Pathspace: The Space of Paths

by Matthew Kennedy

  He yawned. This would have been a lot more convenient if he could do it in the daytime. But the Honcho had been adamant. All of Ludlow's practicing had to be done after the workday for most was over, because there was a chance even the armory workers had been infiltrated by Rado spies. And what he was about to practice would lose its advantage of surprise if Denver had any inkling of it.

  He stood in front of a tank and faced the jeep across from it, concentrated as he strove to weave pathspace. As the light from the lanterns began to flow around him in the new configuration, he was plunged into darkness. Damn. This will never do. The drivers have to see where they are going.

  He abolished the weave and the light flooded back into its original straight path. Now he could see again, but the tank would be visible. Also unacceptable. There had to be a way to hide the tank without blinding it.

  Frowning, he kicked at a clod of dirt that had fallen off one of the tank's treads. The clod sailed across the room and bounced off the grille of the Jeep back toward him.

  He froze, seized by a sudden realization: the tank was visible not because of light moving toward it, but by the light moving toward the observer. Bending the pathspace of the incoming light, as he had done, would prevent reflected light from being seen. . . . but would also prevent the driver from seeing where he was going. But what if he was going about it the wrong way?

  He turned around to face the tank and took three steps backward, toward the jeep behind him, and began to concentrate again. Picturing in his min a wall of light behind the tank, coming toward him., he imagined it splitting and going to the left, to the right, and over the tank, coming forward and rejoining back into a plane just in front of the projected gun.

  As he had hoped, the tank faded from view. Now he saw only the wall behind it. He stepped forward until he was through the bent pathspace, nearly brushing the front of the vehicle, which had reappeared,. and slowly turned around.

  It worked! He could see forward now. The trick was not to worry about incoming light, but about the reflected outgoing light. You had to let in light so the driver could see...but you also had to let light that had not struck the tank continue outward, so that objects behind it would be seen instead of a patch of darkness.

  While he was gloating, the pattern decayed and the tank faded back into view. At first he was tempted to curse at it. He should have anchored the pattern on the tank itself, not on the region of space around it. It would have been longer-lasting that way . . . and would be able to move around with the tank, hiding it even when it was in motion.

  On the heels of that thought another realization struck him: if I make his tanks permanently invisible from the front, he won't need me any more. Then, the best-case scenario is I get exiled, and worst-case is, I go back into the cell . . . or get executed to satisfy the Church.

  He was well aware that this was not Rado. For the support the TCC gave the Honcho, Martinez would had to be seen as respecting the Church's ban on “demon magic.”

  He would have to be very careful now. If he could not help, he was doomed. But also doomed if his help was permanent.

  The sound of a door interrupted his musings. Speak of the Devil! Turning, he saw Martinez coming into the armory toward him. The door closed behind him, eclipsing the sight of the Honcho's bodyguard left outside.

  “I see you found the place,” the Honcho said, pretending his men had not personally escorted Ludlow here to the Abilene armory. “Have you thought of anything yet that could help us?”

  Ludlow smiled. “Yes, Excellency, I have,” he said. “I believe I can give you another advantage. But there are a couple of problems.”

  “Explain.”

  “I'm sure Commander Glock told you that I can make myself invisible when I want to. I can also do this to objects – make the tanks invisible from the front,” he said. “Kristana and Xander won't see them coming.” Swiftly, he gave a partial explanation, and demonstrated, doing exactly what he had just done.

  Martinez appeared impressed. That is, until the tank reappeared again. “What went wrong?”

  “Nothing. This is one of the problems I mentioned. The effect is temporary. Anchoring it in the metal will help the spell last longer, but it will still fade in time.” He neglected to mention that with the dense metal, that time might be measured in years or decades. “And if we were to invisible them just before you get to Denver, the border patrols will see them coming in before I cast the spell.”

  The Honcho frowned. “Either way we'd lose the element of surprise. Is there any solution?”

  “There is.” Ludlow paused, thinking. “We put the tanks in a single file column, and I will have to ride in the lead tank, continually refreshing the spell. That way it will hold all the way to Denver.”

  Now he held his breath, watching the Honcho absorb this. Ironically, his survival now depended on Martinez not caring whether he lived or died. If he worried about losing his only wizard, it would be back to the prison cell.

  But Martinez did not disappoint him. “Then we'll do that. What's the other problem?”

  “Sound. Invisibility worked for me in Kristana's fortress because I walked quietly. But I imagine your tanks make a lot of noise. Even if they don't see them coming, they'll hear them.”

  “So it won't work.” His disappointment was obvious.

  “I didn't say that . . . only that it was a problem.”

  “Is there a solution to the noise?”

  Ludlow let himself appear to be in deep thought. “There might be,” he said, after a pause. “If I can bend the paths for the motor noise also, send it back behind the tanks, then no one will hear them coming.”

  The Honcho's eyebrows rose. “Can you do that?”

  “I think so, but it might take a bit of practice. I've never bent sound before. As your spy in Denver, it was more useful for me to be unseen but still listening.”

  The other man considered this. “All right, you've got three weeks. They tell me it'll take that long to cook up enough fuel for all the tanks and fuel trucks and jeeps. If you can do it by then, you'll get a uniform and rank to avoid questions from the troops, and we'll proceed as you suggested. Otherwise . . . well, we'll just have to do without you.”

  Do without you, Ludlow thought. You mean, execute me. “I think I can be ready by then, Excellency.”

  Chapter 83

  Lester: “Every man to his work.”

  His days were blending into each other, becoming seamless, like waves that crash upon the shore and are renewed by more water, the same water, repeating endlessly the same patters with minor changes.

  Each morning he arose and practiced his pathspace weaving, getting a little better, a little quicker in reshaping the flowing lines of tendency. He was never quick enough to satisfy Xander, who kept emphasizing that the smallest delay could mean the difference between surviving and not.

  After lunch, they went to the metal workers and he made more sizzles and invisibility shields, as many as he could manage, while Xander sat grimly at a table turning metal disks into everflames. The old wizard was too busy to show him how it was done, saying that he should concentrate on his pathspace until he had mastered that. Later he could move on to other weavings.

  In the late afternoon they would troop up to Aria's garden floors, where Xander spent his time refreshing the ceiling glowtubes that would keep Aria's gardens blooming through the long winter ahead.. After dinner Lester would resume reading his way through the old wizard's bookshelves, searching for clues in the old volumes that lines the walls of the wizard's den. He supposed that Xander must have done the same thing, but another set of eyes could not hurt.

  He wasn't even sure what he was searching for, but there had to be something.

  “Did the Tourists have any kind of weapons?” he asked Xander one evening. The older man did not answer immediately, distracted by something he held cupped in his hands. “What is that?”

  Xander was about to drop it into a pocket of his robe. H
e hesitated, then changed his mind and held out the hand, palm up, and opened it.

  Lying in his palm was a flat round locket from which the chain had broken off, long ago. Framed by the old metal was a portrait carved in stone, of a woman's face seen in profile. The whole thing was only an inch or two across. Lester had never seen anything like it. “It's an old art form called a cameo.. Some people still make them, from time to time.

  “Where it you find it?”

  “I had it made.” The old wizard seemed lost in thought.

  “So it was someone you knew? Was it your mother, or someone special?” For some reason,.the profile reminded him of Aria. Lester wondered if he could find someone to make a portrait of her.

  “Someone special,” said Xander.

  “What happened? Did she marry another? Or did one of the plagues take her?”

  Xander snapped the locket shut and dropped it into his pocket. “Neither,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he looked away. “She was already married, to an important man. I couldn't take her away from him.”

  “But you're an important man! You're the only wizard in Rado!”

  Xander grimaced. “You won't find many people who agree with that,” he said. “And besides, you're wrong. You're becoming one too, and at the rate your ability is growing, you will be a greater wizard than I ever was.”

  “I don't know about that. But what about the girl? How could you just give up on her like that? Didn't she love you too?” Lester brooded on it. “All right, you said she was already married. I can see you;d respect that. But people don't live forever. Is he still alive?”

  “No. He died years ago.”

  Lester let his bafflement show. “Then why don't you go to her? Did you find someone else?”

  The wizard sighed. “Maybe I should have, but no. She's the only one.” He seemed to finally notice Lester's questioning face. “And I never gave up on her, either. I know, it sounds ridiculous. There used to be a saying: 'no fool like an old fool'. One day you'll understand.”

  “I'm not sure I want to.” I hate it when adults say that to me! He knew that most humans go through the same kinds of learning experiences, but he had always resented the smugness of it, the certainty that he'd always come to the same conclusions that they had.

  Xander looked at him, seeming to read his mind, and shook his head. “I know, you won't grow up to be the same as me. You'll make your own mistakes.”

  Lester raised an eyebrow. “So you think love is a mistake, now?”

  “Never. But it can lead to mistakes. When you look at Aria, remember that.”

  Chapter 84

  Xander: “And I would do it again”

  After Lester fell asleep Xander tried to follow suit but found he could not. Old thoughts and memories had been stirred, and would not settle. That stupid locket! He should have thrown the damned thing away long ago. But he couldn't.

  Arising, he groped for this staff and went to the door and threw back the bar on the other side with a mental flick of pathspace.

  Karl, the guard on duty, startled, tried to block his path. “Um,” he said, swallowing, “you're supposed to stay here at night. Governor's orders.”

  “I'm aware of that. But I need to see the Governor.”

  “Can't it wait?”

  He could see the guard was nervous. Caught between a Wizard and his Governor. But he had no time for this. “Maybe it can,” he said. “But I can't. Oh, put away your sword, Karl. You don't really want to fight me. If you like, you can come with me.” Seeing the man hesitate, he added “Unless you want me to knock you out with magic. Don't worry, I'll see to it you don't get in trouble.”

  Glumly, worry plain on his face, the guard followed him to the stairwell.

  After they had gone up a few floors and were resting on a landing, Karl finally has to ask. “What is it that you can't wait for morning to say to her? Is it a new idea for the defenses?”

  “No.” Xander didn't volunteer anything further.

  “Only it's late and she's probably asleep, you know. She won't thank either of us for waking her. Maybe you're not worried about that, being the court Wizard and all. But I'm just a guard.”

  Xander glanced at the man's uniform. “You're only a private,” he said. “She can't demote you any lower.”

  “She could throw me out of the Army!”

  “When we're about to be invaded? I don't think so. And like I said, I'll make sure nothing happens to you for this. You should trust me, soldier. She does.”

  Karl chewed on that the rest of the way up to Kristana's floor.

  There was no avoiding another “discussion” with the guards posted outside the Governor's floor. Standing there in the stairwell, Xander could feel himself beginning to lose patience. “I need to see Her Excellency,” he repeated. “We both know she'll see me if you'd just let me in.”

  “Actually, I don't know that. Not this late.” The guard did not move from in front of the door.. “And we both know she needs her sleep.”

  “I'm tired too,” growled Xander. “But this is important, damn it!” He could hear his voice getting louder but was too tired and annoyed to master his irritation.”

  The door behind the guard swung open and a weary Kristana regarded both of them.

  “The two of you are arguing about my rest so loudly,” she said, “ that I can't get any. You might as well let him in, Loyd, so we can all have some peace.”

  Xander and the guard shared a rueful glance, looking for a moment like unruly schoolboys caught by a teacher, and then Loyd stepped aside, abashed. “You might as well stay here, Karl,” said Xander. “I'll be back shortly “

  Karl's face wore a resigned look that said plainly that he doubted that, but Xander had no time for niceties at the moment. It was true that he and the Governor both needed sleep, and the sooner he finished this meeting, the better.

  Kristana ambled back into down the hall to her outer office and plopped herself down behind a desk. “So what couldn't wait until tomorrow?”

  He grabbed a chair himself and regarded her. He could still see the beautiful woman he had met, so many years before, now trapped behind a mask of authority and tiny wrinkles. “The aftermath,” he said.

  She raised an eyebrow, inviting him to continue, so he did. “We've been so focused on how we're going to repel this invasion that we haven't considered what we do next.”

  “Speak for yourself,” she yawned. “I meet with my planners every day.”

  “You know what I mean,” he said. “Simply avoiding being conquered isn't enough. We have to have a lasting peace, and that means forging alliances.”

  “With who?” she snorted. “Wyoming? Those communalists can barely defend themselves, let alone help us.”

  “No,” he said. “With Texas.”

  “Are you out of your mind? They're the ones trying to crush us!”

  “The Honcho is, sure. But he won't live forever. From what I've seen, the Runt appears more amenable to negotiations than his father.”

  “They tried to kidnap my daughter. And rescuing her nearly got you killed.” She crossed her arms and lowered her eyebrows. “We don't need Texas.”

  “Actually, we do.” Xander coughed and leaned back in his chair. “There is no way to accomplish the General's Dream without it. Unless the new Union encompasses every lost State on the continent, we'll have enemies at our backs when we try to reach out to the rest of the world.” He knew that invoking her memories of the General wasn't exactly fair, but he couldn't help it.

  “If we defeat them this time, we can defeat them again later,” she muttered.

  “If we can bring them to an alliance, we won't have to fight them again,” he countered.

  “Why should they agree to anything with us? They don't need us.”

  “Actually, they do. This invasion isn't just about neutralizing us as a potential threat. He wants to expand his armies and territories, and we have the gold he needs to do t
hat.” Xander paused. “If he finds he can't take it by force, by occupying us and our mines, then he'll realize he has to negotiate for it.”

  She studied him. “And what does he, or rather, Texas, have that we need?”

  “More farmland, for one thing. Our population is growing, in case your planners haven't noticed. Texas has beef and crops. We both now the old Union wasn't held together by force. What glued the United States together was the synergy of trade. Every region has its own peculiarities, its own produce and trade items, and the more States we incorporate into the new Union the better off we will be. Not just to restore the grand Union that was lost. We will all be better off when the internal wars are over and all the areas can trade freely again.”

  She shook her head. “All right,” she said. “I'm not crazy either. You know I'd rather have peace than worry about invasions all the time. If we can find a way to conclude an alliance with Texas, we will. Satisfied?”

  “It's a start,” he said. “But you need to have your people begin crafting the terms as soon as possible. And the treaty will be a model for many others, so it needs to be expandable when we bring other countries to the table to consider joining. We can't give Texas a better deal than anyone else.”

  She frowned but nodded. “is that it? Are we done?”

  “One other thing,” he said. “As you know, I can make everflames, and I've been with your chief armorer cranking them as as quickly as I can in case we need to use them to fight.”

  “So?”

  “When the invasion is over, I want to start giving them away. I'll keep making them, and eventually Lester will be able to help me, but I want us to start distributing them to the people, one per family.”