Thief (The Key to Magic Book 7)

by H. Jonas Rhynedahll

  A range of emotions collided on Rhavaelei's face, including shock, joy, and fear. No doubt having carefully rehearsed this meeting in her mind, she would have made a fixed plan for the way that she wanted it to go and that plan could not possibly have anticipated Telriy's abrupt announcement. The disruption had left her off balance and searching for direction.

  "You know this by...witchery?"

  "By magic, yes."

  Grimacing, Rhavaelei demanded, "Can you tell how it will go?"

  "The birth?"

  "Yes!"

  Telriy concentrated to pursue the vision. "It will be a hard labor, but ... both you and he will be alright."

  "Please tell me more!"

  Telriy tried to grasp the dissolving wisps of the vision, but they faded away. "I'm sorry. There's nothing else."

  "Will Ghorn come back to me?"

  On the slim chance that another vision might intrude, Telriy did not respond immediately, but nothing came to her. "I don't know."

  Rhavaelei fell silent, thoughts churning behind her eyes.

  "What is it that you wanted?" Telriy asked her after a moment.

  Rhavaelei gave herself a slight shake, almost literally gathered control of her expression, and smiled a smile that Telriy did not believe.

  "I ... I just wanted to thank you for releasing me from the dungeon. It has changed my life -- which you must obviously now know."

  This sounded and felt -- if not entirely false then at least evasive -- to Telriy, but she hid her reaction. Whatever the matter had been that Rhavaelei had come to discuss, it was apparently no longer of much importance to her.

  "You can show your thanks by leaving me and mine alone," she told Rhavaelei. Her tone was harsh. As far as she was concerned, the noblewoman was less trustworthy than a snake and she was not about to pretend otherwise.

  Rhavaelei's artificial smile faded. Her hand rested on her belly, perhaps unconsciously. "I will, my lady queen. I have everything that I want."

  Telriy nodded at Yhejia and she immediately led the noblewoman out.

  She spent the remainder of the day enjoying the company of her friends and the joy of her daughter. When evening came, the women and girls departed, laughing and chatting, and she and Celly made ready for bed.

  There was nothing to be gained by leaving at that point. The courier boats would all make dock between sunrise and midmorning and sail away by noon. To put her plan in motion, she would have to be in place just after daybreak.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  7026 by the Common Reckoning

  (Tenthday, Waning, 3rd Springmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire)

  Orbital B

  Oyraebos had just scattered and sorted his notes on the chart table (usually displaying high altitude images of the world taken by the orbiting fleet of drones, but now blank) when his newly appointed administrative assistant -- the Progress Committee had insisted -- entered Orbital Control. She came in on the heels of several section chiefs who possessed high enough standing to have been awarded one of the limited number of spectator's seats available for this first civilian shuttle descent. The seats, installed specifically for the event, took up most of the floor space of the compartment and their installation had necessitated the temporary exile of the Section personnel who normally monitored the observation automatons that had been placed all about the planet.

  The Eagle would launch within the hour and all six wall displays showed various views of the docked shuttle. The effort to remotely reprogram and initiate the backup emergency landing beacon at the Tertiary Launch Site had been a complete success -- after the fourth attempt. Oyraebos himself had led a team of the Orbital's most accomplished enchanters in the successful casting, using the still operational security magics at the site as a relay to feed modulations incrementally through a series of still intact devices to reach the cluster of Vessels that served the beacon.

  In an emergency, the shuttle had the ability to land without the beacon, but the onboard magics did not have the computational capabilities needed to put the craft down at a the required precise location, the (now buried) top of the lift platform that would load the shuttle into the launch tube array. The calculated margin of error for a manual landing was in excess of two thousand meters, which meant that it was possible that the shuttle could miss the launch site pedestal altogether and settle into the rough forest that surrounded it. Without specially designed magical tugs, which no longer existed, it would be impossible to move the shuttle any significant distance. A shuttle that came down away from the launch site would almost certainly never fly again.

  It was imperative that the launch site be recovered and put back into use, whatever the cost.

  He had decreed a general holiday for all non-essential personnel and practically the entire roster of the Project, Proctors and Participants, was glued to their skry pads. Although thirteen scout teams of four had been deployed in drop pods into remote areas by the military shuttle without breaking atmosphere, today would see the first open landing and undisguised contact with the grounders. As long as nothing went wrong, the first settlement groups would descend within five days and thereafter a full general migration would commence. The day of their return to the surface had finally come.

  His only worry was that, of late, his dreams had been troubling. No clear warning had come to him from the ether and his unease had not coalesced into an actual foreboding, so he had kept his misgivings -- which might only be an understandable performance anxiety -- entirely to himself.

  Emeraae smiled as she drew near and he smiled in return, especially happy that she was not carrying the assortment of information devices that customarily burdened her. That lack normally meant that she had only one or two items to trouble him with.

  She was an athletic, older woman with a beauty that had simmered with time. She had been a professor at university in the life before. Now, as a Proctor with no mechanical or technical skills practical to the current environment, she had been assigned to stand by until the current pregnancy explosion became a student explosion. One of her acquaintances, a member of the Progress Committee, had privately suggested her for the position.

  It had taken him only an hour to recognize her exceptional expertise, competence, and efficiency. It had taken only another for him to offload the majority of his purely administrative duties to her. Following his standing instructions, she did not consult with him on most matters, but at least once a day she would find him to present items that she had determined must be brought to the personal attention of the Project Leader.

  Emeraae raised her eyebrows at all the neat stacks of handwritten pages.

  "It is a textbook," he explained. "I began it years ago. Well, millennia now, I suppose. It was scheduled to be published by a university press as soon as I had finished. Of course, all of that is gone now, but I have dug out all the notes and drafts and have started working on it again. I find work on it to be extremely relaxing."

  "But pen and paper?" Emeraae's voice was strong but dulcet. "Why not a data store on a skry pad?"

  "Keeps my hands busy while I ponder various issues. What do you have for me today?"

  "Just one item. The report from Scout Enael and his team."

  Under normal circumstances, the daily reports from the thirteen scouting groups only circulated to the relevant sections for review. It was highly unusual for Emeraae to bring one to his attention.

  "Where are they?"

  "They have just moved from the island chain onto the mainland of the northern continent and are at present in one of the large cities of the eastern sector. They have been observing the advance of the dominant sociopolitical group of the central island grouping."

  "A quasi religious cult with a secular oligarchy at its core?"

  "Yes."

  "Remind me what they call themselves."

  "The Brotherhood of Phaelle."

  While the grounders of the larger southern continent, where most of the scout teams were operating,
spoke a tongue that had its roots in Common, the primary spoken language of the central island chain and the northern subcontinent was a derivative and amalgam of several of the regional dialects that had existed in the life before the cataclysm. Neither grounder tongue was intelligible to a native Common speaker, but Oyraebos had used high order spells to make himself -- and anyone else who expressed a desire to be -- permanently fluent in both.

  "Quaint."

  "Would you like me to recite the entire report?"

  "Summarize, if you would," he told her with a weary grin.

  "The key information is that Enael has been able to directly confirm that The Brotherhood has possession and use of a number of sophisticated technological devices, all salvaged from archaeological digs or hidden caches. As previously reported, these include warships, aircraft, and at least one portable freight hub port. They also have a working comm network and some side and shoulder arms. Enael also reports that rumors amongst the local grounders at Mhevyr indicate that the monks are manufacturing working copies of a hand weapon that appears to be a standard civilian model null pistol. He has directly sighted wood and steel lorries that are using a simple motive device of some sort."

  He frowned. "Then they must have more Proficient personnel than our original estimates indicated."

  Emeraae shook her head. "Scout Enael suggests that they have developed some sort of brute force workaround to overcome their lack of magical ability."

  "Success is often an indicator of capability. It would seem that this Brotherhood of Phaelle should be taken in hand as soon as we land."

  "They have a solid civil organization, considerable familiarity with technology, and a significant and effective military capacity, at least in comparison to their adversaries."

  Given the vast disparity between the numbers of the members of the Project and those of the grounder population, the Progress Committee had already determined that to govern effectively, the Project would require grounder intermediaries and functionaries. It had been agreed that making use of an existing governance infrastructure would be the most efficient and speedy means of accomplishing this.

  He thought a moment, then told her, "Order Scout Enael to begin preparations to make open contact with the leading echelons of the oligarchy. As soon as the first shuttle is down and we have a base camp, we will need to move swiftly to establish oversight. I want a smooth and, as far as possible, painless transition."

  "I will send a comm message immediately."

  "It can wait a few minutes, if you would like to stay and watch the launch and landing."

  "Thank you, but I am recording the event on my skry pad and I will review once I have my desk clear."

  "Very well. Thank you."

  As soon as she moved away at her standard ground eating pace, he looked up at the big countdown clock projected near the forward bulkhead. Launch was less than ten minutes away.

  To make best use of the wait, he tried to return to a study of his notes but found that his building excitement made assembly of dry technical phrases impossible. With a sigh, he left the chart table to join the other ranking members of the Progress Committee in the center section of the arc of spectator seats.

  Though the process itself was fully automatic and no active input was required, all of the consoles forward of the arc were occupied by senior technicians, many of them higher ranked enchanters and sorcerer fabricators. Those men and women had personally verified, deconstructed, and recast the sequence of spells that would control the launch and guided landing and they were on hand to make sure that absolutely nothing went wrong. Launch Coordinator Teshthris had the central console. She looked relaxed and confident, as she should -- even if she did not actually feel that way.

  Having already greeted all the members of the Progress Committee on their entrance, he managed to reach his seat without having to stop more than twice to share words and congratulations.

  Chairman Tredglas had the seat to his immediate right. Section Leader Dhavosh was on his immediate left. Beyond each of those in turn, were Chairwoman Lyrsee and Chairwoman Deldris.

  While no seats other than his own centrally placed one had been specifically reserved, Oyraebos knew that this arrangement was not by chance. All four were members of the growing hard line faction that had emerged since the publication of the Medic Section report on grounder genetics.

  Emeraae had recently informed him that the anonymous draft proposal calling for a targeted culling of the grounder population had likely been authored by this group or at their instigation. The proposal had been distributed in an untraceable way to every skry stone on the orbital, but thus far had not been formally introduced into the Agenda of the Progress Committee.

  Oyraebos knew that he had the votes to quash any such proposal, but his preference was that the idea not be exposed to open debate.

  He knew that many members of the Project already felt that they were "the last of our kind." If that mild group paranoia developed into a full blown homicidal conviction, then the peaceful but firm adoption of the ground population that he had envisioned would become an all out war of extermination. In his nightmares, the rally cry, "It is them or us!" raced across blood soaked fields.

  While it would be inevitably successful, a war to retake the surface would, he felt certain, result in nothing less than the total destruction of the Project's cherished altruistic goals, progressive principals, and equalitarian ideals.

  At this stage, however, he felt that it would be counterproductive to openly or even privately rebuke the four. The whole-hearted efforts of every member of the Project were necessary to achieve a return to the surface and the establishment of modern order there.

  Thus far, he still had their full support and it had only been necessary to hint at his disapproval of the proposal to keep it off the Agenda and thus officially nonexistent.

  Which was good enough for now.

  "Exciting day, Project Leader," Lyrsee said as Oyraebos took his seat.

  "Yes, indeed," he replied with a warm smile. "It took a lot of hard work and cooperation to reach this point and we can be proud of what we have all accomplished together."

  He glanced at the big clock. The time was down under two minutes.

  Dhavosh nodded. "The Project advances."

  "I have missed the sun and the fresh air," Deldris mused. "And swimming. I hope that we can build a pool very soon."

  "We have enough automatons stored to get decent accommodations up in a matter of days," Tredglas assured her. "Once we have a water treatment plant going, we will have all the water we need for every modern convenience."

  Launch Coordinator Teshthris began to go through the final checklist with Chief Pilot Evhwe and everyone fell silent to listen as the exchange was relayed through the compartment's announcement imp.

  "Propulsion," Teshthris prompted.

  "Propulsion optimal."

  "Navigation."

  "Navigation optimal."

  "Auxiliary Systems."

  "Auxiliary Systems optimal."

  The clock counted down to one minute.

  "Senior Pilot Evhwe and Eagle, you are approved for launch. Good luck!"

  "Thank you, Orbital B."

  Oyraebos felt the ether scream. After a second of frozen shock, he leapt to his feet. "Abort the launch!"

  Reacting without hesitation, Launch Coordinator Teshthris slammed her hand onto a control surface. Warning lights began to flash on every console and a cycling alarm sounded throughout the compartment.

  Dhavosh jumped up his hand going for his sidearm. "What is it, Project Leader? What is wrong?"

  "Wait, there is a --"

  One of the technicians cut him off with a shout. "High energy blast detected on the surface! It is in the teraflux range!"

  "Broadcast a general warning throughout the orbital!" Oyraebos commanded. "The ethereal wave will strike us in seconds!"

  More sirens blared as Teshthris' hands flew over control surfaces to relay the war
ning.

  Oyraebos felt his body vibrate as if it were no longer under his control. Then the lights went out and the artificial gravity failed. As his weight vanished, he felt an instant of panic. The lights, artificial gravity, and mental equilibrium came back before three full second had passed. The sudden return of his weight made him sway slightly for a moment.

  "Check all primary spells!" Teshthris shouted at her technicians.

  "That was a strategic detonation!" Lyrsee exclaimed to Oyraebos.

  "Whoever set that off is a major threat," Dhavosh agreed. "That level of magic should not exist down there."

  Oyraebos nodded, then called to Launch Coordinator Teshthris. "Do you have an epicenter for the blast?"

  The enchanter's eyes danced over the readouts. "It was on the northern continent. I have a drone focused on the point now."

  She tapped control surfaces and one of the wall displays changed to a view of a devastated landscape. Fires and smoke obscured much of it, but the dark line of a broad river bisecting it vertically and a light grey line of a road bisecting it horizontally could be readily identified. She made a quick gesture and a blue imp shaped as a torus highlighted the intersection of the river and the road.

  "That is a bridge," Dhavosh said. "How could a primitive stone bridge possibly survive that blast?"

  "How soon can the military shuttle be launched?" Oyraebos asked him. Emeraae had informed him only that morning that the armed and hardened craft was down for maintenance.

  "The techs are rebuilding the entire starboard propulsion unit. The spells will take at least two days."

  "Section Leader Dhavosh, make preparations for a recon in force as soon as the shuttle is repaired. You will be in command. You will utilize full defensive countermeasures, including total illusory concealment, during the descent and landing."

  "Yes, Project Leader."

  "What about the landing at the Tertiary Launch Site?" Deldris asked.

  Oyraebos frowned. An indefinite postponement of the civilian shuttle's mission would shatter morale. In fact, the same was true to some extent of anything but an immediate launch.