Warsinger

by James Osiris Baldwin

Istvan was drilling new troops in the yard, screaming at them with the benevolent sadism of a skilled NCO. The door to the hospital was locked, the windows sealed, and the scent of clear spirits hung around the building like an antiseptic mist. According to the map, Rin was inside, as were Masha, Lazar, and Vash.

  “Guess they’re going ahead with the surgery,” I remarked, watching as Istvan expertly disarmed a recruit with his wooden practice sword and gave him a couple of swats on the ass with it, to the amusement of the others standing around the sparring ring. “I hope Istvan can stay off the sauce while we’re gone.”

  “I think he will, as long as we write back sometimes,” Karalti said. “He doesn’t like to drink, but he struggles with despair. He only does it when he feels hopeless… like there’s nothing left to live for.”

  I arched an eyebrow, glancing across at her. “Look at you, being all grown up and insightful.”

  “Of course. I’m as insightful as I am beautiful.” Karalti smugly flipped her hair back. “But I’ve only got thirty minutes on my spell timer left, so I’d better go take care of that before I change shape somewhere too small to handle the extent of my majesty.”

  “You HAVE been eating a lot lately,” I teased. “Your majesty gets a little more extensive every day.”

  “You’re one to talk,” she huffed. “I have to level a special skill just to carry your fat ass around.”

  “You know what happens when you start making fun of the ducal hiney,” I said. “Do you really want to go down that path?”

  Karalti hurrumphed. “MY hiney is sleek and properly plump for a dragon of my size. YOU eat too much bread.”

  “This is your final warning before I follow you around everywhere you go, raving and twerking.”

  “I should make you shake it for money in the Karhad Market.” She vaulted onto the railing of the walkway and made a face at me.

  “That’d be one way to fill the treasury.” I grinned back.

  Karalti stuck her tongue out, then dropped down to the next railing down. She bounced off it to the ground, breaking into a jog.

  “Looks like all that agility training paid off.” I couldn’t help but feel a touch of pride, watching her move like that.

  There was some housekeeping to do before we went anywhere. I went to my office, and was surprised to see my new Valet inside. He was tidying up: the place no longer had the shabby look of an abandoned room, and there was a silver tray with a cover waiting for me.

  “Good morning, my lord,” Rudolf said. “I noticed you prefer to spend most of your time here, so I thought you might like to take your breakfast at your desk. If you prefer to eat elsewhere…?”

  “Uh, no, the desk is fine. Thanks.” I shuffled in, feeling a little awkward. The last person to make food and insist on serving me had been my grandmother. “What’s on the menu?”

  “Salt pork stew with eggs over rice,” he replied. “We still lack a lot of fresh produce, I’m afraid. The Volod’s food relief ought to arrive soon enough, and after that, we will have less homely fare.”

  “‘Over rice’ is always going to win with me.” I plopped down and uncovered the dish, and sure enough, there was a heaped bowl of fluffy white rice with a fried egg, chives, and stew poured over the top. It smelled amazing. “You have no idea how glad I am to see really good rice again.”

  “Oh?” Rudolf continued dusting. “Most noblemen would turn their noses up at such a humble grain. Steamed barley is usually more suited to the upper-class palate.”

  “All the more for me, then.” I broke the egg and gathering up a spoonful of food. “My parents and grandparents always had a big rice cooker warm on the counter full of stuff called japgokbap.”

  “Interesting name. Sounds like something you would find in Jeun. What were the ingredients?”

  “At home? Small red beans, barley, some other grains mixed with rice. But you can throw any kind of grain in with it.” I broke out some of the pickles I’d bought at the market, dumping about half a bowl on it.

  “I’ll be sure to pass that on to the kitchen. Livia may know how to make it,” Rudolf said. “Excuse me, my lord; I must go and clean the bathroom. And, my lord… in regards to the bathtub…?”

  “It’s fine. I’ll scoop it out if it gets gnarly.” I savored another spoonful of stew and rice. It was fluffy and tender, a world away from the bleached rat droppings that passed for ‘rice’ in MREs. “I’m going to have to replace the bed with some kind of purpose-made sandbox.”

  “That will be an interesting challenge,” he replied archly. “Do you need it due to your… affliction?”

  “Yeah. My affliction.”

  Rudolf let out a little sigh. “Understood. I will look into it. Perhaps, if you are willing to expend some Build Points, we can expedite renovating this apartment more to your specifications?”

  “Sometime. Not yet. We’re not going to be here that much, and I can’t justify pampering myself while there’s cities and villages struggling to survive.” I brought up my Kingdom Management HUD, and was pleased to see I’d gotten another 20 Build Points from leveling up, giving me a total of 140: not a bad start. I had about 5,000 olbia left in the bank, so I committed half of the points and two thousand gold to rebuilding roads, importing some more food, and opening up the marketplace, easily the two most important factors in restarting the county’s economy and getting people back to work, fed, and housed. The rest of the points and another thousand olbia went to building the temporary accommodations that Ur Gehlan had requested: shelter for the refugees-turned-harvesters who would help us ride out the coming year.

  My Level 24 level-up was next. I hadn’t seen the need to rush after the Tomb Guardian battle – oops – mostly because I was one level away from being able to unlock Level V combat abilities. For now, I dumped my two combat points into Shadow Dance and Rain of Glass:

  >> Rain of Glass IV

  Chained from Master of Blades. Twist acrobatically mid-air, unleashing a second blast of Dark energy shards down on a group of enemies. 1350 damage to 6 enemies. Damage and number of affected enemies increases when you level this skill.

  Shadow Dance III

  Basic Evasive Dash reduces damage by 85% at the cost of HP (8 HP per dash). Can now be used twice in a row before recharging, including while in mid-air.

  I’d been resisting leveling up Shadow Dance, because I’d been pretty sure there would be better mobility dashes going forward, but after the Golem and Assassin fights I wasn’t waiting any longer. Shadow Dance had saved my life more times than any other ability. Rain of Glass was also a no-brainer: The MoB-RoG combo was one of the best heavy-hitters available to me, made even better by the fact it was not technically magic. That meant it didn’t consume mana, couldn’t be dis-spelled, and was spammable as long as I had enough adrenaline points. I was up to 400 AP now: enough that I could use the MoB-RoG combo, then Whirlwind Butcher, then Mob-RoG again after Butcher regenerated AP. In theory, if I could somehow manage to stay in the air, I could just keep doing that over and over again…

  My HUD chirped: it was a message from Rin.

  “Heya, Hector!” she said. There was no video today – just voice. “I wanted to let you know Vash opted for the surgery, and it went great! Masha had this really clever idea to like… fumigate the room with alcohol to make sure no baddies got in while she was fitting the osteo-fusion implant. I ran some tests to see if he could accept the titanium alloy, and he doesn’t seem to react to it at all. I think he’s gonna be okay.”

  “Great. Is he awake?”

  “He was never asleep. He refused to be anesthetized… he just meditated through it all. I’m kind of in awe, actually. He said he wants to see you.”

  “Sounds like Vash. I’ll be down soon.”

  There were a couple more things to take care of first: namely, the preparations for Dalim. For me, that meant a lot of brewing and mixing of potions. I used up my remaining stock of green moss to make Green Moss Tinctures. It was a common herb able t
o be found almost everywhere, so I had a stack of six hundred doses or so. I crafted about twenty potions, plus two dragon-sized ones for Karalti. Other common potions followed: stamina-boosting draughts, a couple of Bonefuse potions, and some other odds and ends. I needed more King’s Grass. There were places to get it in Taltos, and I planned to stock up.

  About ten minutes later, I was in the hospital with Istvan while the others were getting ready. Vash was looking down curiously at the big titanium rod-and-socket that now extended from his shoulder. The skin around it had been stitched and slathered in a healing balm that was being left to dry before bandages went on. He had an I.V. in his other arm, which was drip-feeding him fluids, and someone – probably Masha – had finished rebraiding his hair.

  “How do you feel, metal-man?” I asked from the door.

  “Much better than last time. No burning, no itching.” He looked a bit wrung out, but his weathered face split with a cheerful smile. “So, I’m coming with you all now, you know that?”

  “Ridiculous man,” Masha muttered.

  I eyed the freshly- sewn arm. “I think it would be really stupid for you to come with us to Dakhdir.”

  “You would rather take me than have me follow you,” he said. “The Masterhealer here has told me that, with the help of these potions and poultices of hers, I should soon regain my health and be able to attach the arm within three days. It will take us four to reach Dalim by airship. That means I should be in fighting form by the time we arrive. In the meantime, I plan to take Karalti up on her desire to become a Baru.”

  “Think you can start her on the Advanced Path in that short amount of time?” I asked.

  “She is bonded to a Starborn rider,” he replied. “Which means that she learns at freakish speed, so long as she has the ‘points’ for it. You and she have already laid all the groundwork for her training. She’s fast, she’s strong, and she seems to have already absorbed some combat savvy from you. Her mental skills need more training than her body does. The Baru path requires two things: speed and wisdom. She is well-endowed with the first and rather lacking in the second.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “My fault.”

  “Everyone has weaknesses.” Vash absent-mindedly shrugged, and winced. “Ah-ta-ta, that smarts.”

  “And you’re sure about this?” I crossed my arms.

  “Absolutely. I’m not letting you idiots run off on your own. You’ll get yourselves killed.” Vash paused, and cleared his throat. “I may need help getting on Karalti’s back. And by that, I mean you will need to carry me onto your dragon like a blushing bride. Think you can do that for me, dog?”

  Chapter 35

  4 Days later: Dalim, Dakhdir

  As we came in over Dalim, the City of Bridges, I finally understood what Suri had meant when she'd told me the nobility of Dalim never walked on the ground. The city was a geometric artwork from the air, an intricate flower of white marble and brilliantly colored tile blooming out of the desert, surrounded in three directions by a patchwork quilt of awnings and adobe rowhouses and slums. It reminded me of Vegas, in the way that it was plunked down in the desert like a great gaudy middle finger held up to Mother Nature.

  Suri and I stood together at the rails of the ship, listening to the distant ‘hyah!’ of Karalti’s shouts as she got in some last-minute training with Vash on the starboard stern of the Tellak, the Dakhari cargo ship carrying us in berth. We weren’t headed to Dalim as nobles. After a terse meeting with Ignas and Ebisa in Taltos, in which we discussed the assassination attempt and its implications, we unanimously decided it was too risky for Suri and I to travel as the Voivode and Voivodzina of Myszno on a Vlachian charter flight.

  “You know, on Earth, it took millions of years for scorpions and cactuses to find ways to flourish in the desert. But somehow, humans just come along one day, vomit a city onto the sand, and somehow make it work,” I remarked to Suri, watching the city grow closer from the deck of the airship. “Which is why I really believe we can beat the Drachan. There's nothing in this fucking universe scarier than human beings, Suri.”

  “Too right.” She gazed out over the view with a complex expression: part longing, part loathing, part nervous anticipation.

  The Sultir's golden palace sat at the heart of Dalim like a great starburst. The inner walls of the city unfolded around it like the petals of a massive, multilayered lotus. The city reminded me a bit of the old Final Fantasy 7 capital, Midgar. It was built off the ground and had different levels, with the palace and other major buildings connected to the rest of the city and each other by a network of graceful bridges. Hanging gardens waved in the hot desert wind. Artificial waterfalls tumbled into beautiful, clear mosaic canals that ran alongside or under the roads. But under the brightly colored paths and bronze-clad minarets, the ground level streets receded into shadow.

  “It’s a beautiful city,” I said.

  “Yeah.” Suri sighed. “Like a pretty mask clapped over a rotten mouth.”

  “If I'm reading this right, the upper castes literally live above everyone else?” I tried to follow a network of paths from the palace to a big domed complex I was pretty sure was a temple.

  “Sure do.” Suri sketched out into the air with a finger, marking the roads I was looking at. “They all live within the city walls on the uppermost level, which we called Meega Shahar', Cloud City. Under that is the Dappled City, named that because the whole place is shadowed from the city overhead. Most of the middling classes live there, merchants and townsfolk and whatnot. Now, what you can't see too clearly from here is that the Dappled City is also elevated off the ground, and beneath THAT is the Gadada Sha', the Undercity. The Undercity is the ground level, where all of the structural stuff that supports the rest of Dalim is mounted. One guess where the lower Castes and the Fireblooded live.”

  “If the whole thing's raised off the ground, surely that's not defensible?” I said. “You drop bombs on that from the air and the whole thing would come down.”

  “Rumor has it that Dalim can throw up some kind of magic shield around itself,” Suri said. “Like the Caul of Souls, but just for one city. They - they being the guys I hung out with at the Tiger's Den - might have been talkin' out their arse about that, though. Dalim hasn't been assaulted in going on a thousand years.”

  “A city on stilts, rotting from the head down.” Vash, who hadn't been at my elbow five seconds ago, suddenly remarked from my right side. Even with my crazy Trial of Marantha-vision, I hadn't seen him come up on us. By the way Suri jumped, neither had she.

  “Jesus!” I scowled. “Don’t do that to me, man.”

  “You need to pay more attention, Dragozin. If I was an assassin, I’d have been able to poke you right in the ribs.” He jabbed at me with one metal finger. “Right here.”

  I grumbled, and swatted at his hand. “How’s Karalti doing?”

  “Breaking planks. Not the planks to the deck, fortunately. She’s picking it up as quickly as I expected, though her lack of wisdom is proving to be an issue. The key ability of the Baru Path is Dark Focus, which she struggles with,” he said. “She struggles with focus in general, actually. Every seagull that passes by is of sudden and complete interest to her. It’s like trying to train a kitten into being a guard dog.”

  “Sounds like my Tidbit,” I replied.

  “She’s sheltered, Dragozin.” He gave me a sidelong look. “Somehow, you managed to emotionally shelter this awe-inspiring apex predator as thoroughly as a cloistered Kyrian nun. Don’t ask me how.”

  “Not everyone has to be hard and bitter like we are.” I managed not to look at Suri. “How’s the arm treating you?”

  “This? It’s the tits.” He made a fist with it and gave it a little pump. The area around the graft was still bandaged, but he was able to move the mana-driven metal prosthetic just as well as a real arm. “Light, tough, strong enough to break a man’s jaw. Rin outdid herself.”

  “She’s a kind person,” Suri said. “I worry we take her for gra
nted, sometimes.”

  “She likes to help out. We just have to keep checking in with her and make sure she’s happy with how much and how often,” I replied. “I take it we're headed to the Undercity?”

  “Only place in Dalim I know,” Suri said bitterly. “Only place I'm allowed. The Fireblooded don't even get to share the open spaces under there with the Lower Castes. I was lucky. Most Fireblooded born in Dalim never see the sky.”

  “Jeez.” It was hard to imagine that kind of hidden squalor from up here, with the wind blowing the sweet aroma of jasmine to our noses. “Dangerous?”

  “Yeah, for sure.” Suri ran her fingers back through her hair and pulled her helmet on. “There's parts of Gadada Sha' that make Taltos' Cat Alley look like a luxury resort.”

  The beautiful, exotic parts of the city receded above us as the airship came in for landing. Unlike the open-air Taltos skyport, Dalim's was more like a grand central station, with paved platforms and cargo cranes and a control tower. The ship was seized by huge, magnet-like devices that guided it into its bay, and I saw for the first time how such a strict social hierarchy was maintained in a city of this size. The port was crawling with soldiers... and magitech. Guards in gold and white uniforms idled in groups of three or five, armed with sabers and muskets, but they were backed up by mechs: the kind of powered armor we used to call Striders in the Army.

  The artificed machines had a vaguely reptilian look about them, with lanky, prehensile legs and bladed arms clearly modeled on hookwings. They had open cockpits with crenellations on four sides and a small awning for shade. The pilots had plain old bows and arrows, and they rode in such a way that they could crouch and shoot in any direction. More puzzling were the lanterns: each strider had an oversized lantern hanging from a long, arched antenna that bobbed behind it. The lanterns cast a circle of vivid blue-violet light that caused bugs and bits of food to sizzle on the ground when it passed over it. The crowd bustling along the platforms gave the powered armor troops and their weird lamps a wide berth.