by Gage Lee
Reality intervened when my physical presence overlapped with the table’s, and the laws of physics shoved the furniture across the room and into the counter. Its explosive movement toppled both of the chairs. Hahen was sitting at the table when I arrived, and yelped in surprise as his slight, semi-solid form skidded across the floor after the chair.
“Are you trying to kill me?” he shouted.
“Nope,” I said, staggering into the wall I’d appeared beside. “Just about did myself in, though.”
While my core had done an excellent job repairing the damage I’d suffered at Eric’s hands and the injuries it had inflicted on me when it ascended, I was a long way from peak health. Worse, my core was empty of jinsei, as were my channels. Cycling hurt, and the combination of mild channel burn and a recently improved core made it difficult to recharge.
“You look terrible,” Hahen said as I repositioned the chairs. “What happened?”
“Eric tried to kill me,” I said. My serpents appeared to place the table back onto its legs, and Hahen helped me arrange it between the chairs. With my suite’s common area back in order, I slumped down into a seat and cradled my head in my hands.
“I’m glad he failed,” Hahen said. “Completing the quest would be much more difficult if you were dead.”
“But not impossible?” I asked sarcastically.
“Well,” Hahen said, looking down at his ghostly body, “I get a lot done.”
That was a bit of a surprise. I’d always imagined Hahen as a pure spirit, an esoteric ideal of a creature, rather than a vestige of a living being. But there weren’t any diminutive rat men running around in the world, which begged the question: What had Hahen been when he was alive?
“Okay,” I said, “are you telling me you’re not a spirit, you’re a ghost?”
“Not exactly,” Hahen said. “But that’s a discussion for another day, when you’re prepared to hear it. You dropped something.”
Hahen reached under the table and scooped Clem’s laptop off the floor. He set it atop the table and slid it across to me.
“Thanks,” I said. “I almost forgot the most important thing.”
I opened the clamshell computer and frowned. Clem hadn’t locked the computer, but had closed the browser she’d used to access the Legal Library’s archives. She had to know I wouldn’t be able to log back into her account, so why close the window and erase all the information I needed?
I tried to remember what I’d seen on the screen, but everything was a jumble. I chewed on my lower lip while I considered how to get that information back. Could I call Clem? Maybe, but then whoever had tracked me to her place would know that I’d reached out to her. Better to avoid that if at all possible.
Clem knew how important this information was. She wouldn’t have retrieved it for me, only to delete it at the first sign of trouble. And she certainly wouldn’t have told me to take the laptop if it wouldn’t do me any good.
No, Clem was too smart for that. The information I needed was still on the computer.
If I could find it.
I was no computer expert, but I understood the basics. Clem could’ve taken a screenshot, then closed the browser to keep the intruder from seeing what we were chasing down. That made sense. But finding one image file in a full hard drive was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
“Computers,” Hahen snorted. “A terrible invention for lazy minds. I’m surprised mortals can do anything without consulting the digital oracles they’ve created while letting their minds atrophy.”
“You’re just jealous you don’t get to play Monster Mayhem Online,” I said. “Or any video games, right?”
“Yes,” Hahen said, grumbling. “The controls will not respond to my input.”
“Bummer,” I said. “Maybe if you’re nice to me, I’ll let you watch me play a few games.”
Clem’s computer seemed hopelessly antiquated compared to the quantic model I’d used the past few years. It lacked a mental interface, so everything had to be clicked or typed in. So primitive.
After a few seconds of noodling around with the track pad, I finally found the search function. A few seconds after that, I waited impatiently while an hourglass slowly rotated in the center of the laptop’s screen. It finally presented me with a list of files created in the past twenty-four hours.
It was a short list, and I clicked the file Clem had captured. It opened after a moment of whirring from the machine’s disk drive, then showed me the unformatted text my friend had captured for me.
“Here it is,” I said excitedly. “Mock computers all you want, but this one has the answer we need.”
“Oh really?” Hahen asked. “And what has this modern miracle of technology found for you?”
“A list of draconic punishments,” I said. “Listen to this: exsanguination, decapitation, vivisection, banishing, and quartering. Must have been too hard to find horses to handle the drawing part.”
“They knew how to make an impression,” Hahen said, his whiskers drooping. “But you already knew the Empyreals banished the Five Dragons.”
“Yes,” I said, scrolling down, “but there’s also details on how they used the different methods. Look at this. The dragons and Empyreals agreed to stop banishment beyond the mortal realm because of the damage that form of punishment caused to the world.”
“That seems extreme,” Hahen said, leaning in to peer at the screen. “If this is true, then the banishment sites should be surrounded by broken dragon lines.”
Hahen was right. And according to what Clem had found, the more impressive the banishment, the more damage it caused. Sending five of the most powerful dragons in the world beyond the boundaries of time and space would punch a big hole in the network of jinsei channels that kept the Earth running.
“All we have to do now is find a giant hole in the dragon lines,” I said.
“That makes sense,” Hahen continued his musing. “It would take immense power to create the portals to push the exiles out of the mortal realms. It’s like the soul scrivening that you learned from Ishigara. But instead of binding your technique to a talisman, they bound the Earth’s channels to a banishing spell.”
Hahen’s words jogged something in my memory. When I’d used soul scrivenings, that tied the technique to the talismans I’d created. I couldn’t use it on my own. Maybe those channels were still around, but they were bound to the exiles. Which meant healing the damage done to the dragon lines might be enough to bring the exiles back.
Or at least open a portal that would let me track them down.
“I still don’t have any idea where Ultima Thule was before the banishment,” I muttered. “I need to talk to a dragon. Preferably the First Scepter.”
“That’s impossible,” Hahen said. “I told you, the dragons have withdrawn to Shambala and aren’t accepting visitors, least of all human tourists.”
“There must be at least one dragon who’d see me,” I said.
“Not Tru. She’s furious over the help you gave Eric with the Battle Federation. She’ll never speak to you again, if you’re lucky,” Hahen said.
Knowing I hadn’t fixed all of Eric’s problems bothered me. He was in the Battle Federation training camp, where he wanted to be, but Tru was still angry with him. Maybe later that would work itself out. For now, though, best to steer clear of the young dragon.
“Niddhogg would talk to me,” I said. “We go way back.”
“Yes,” Hahen grudgingly admitted. “But not even Niddhogg can get you permission to travel to Shambala. And he certainly won’t come here and risk his standing in the draconic community by consorting with humans.”
“I’m not asking anybody for permission for anything,” I said. “There’s still enough time tonight for me to pop over and see my dragon buddy.”
“No,” Hahen said and slapped his hand down on the table. “You can barely stand up. You need rest, now. I can smell the channel burn from here.”
I bristled at my me
ntor’s angry command. I didn’t have time to wait around for my body and channels to get with the program. Now that I had a lead, all I wanted to do was chase it. “I guess you didn’t hear when I said I wasn’t asking for permission anymore.”
Hahen said nothing, but he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at me. The look on his face told me the tough-guy act didn’t cut it with Hahen. “Rest. Now.”
Maybe he had a point. I felt like a dump truck had run over me, then fed me feet first into a meat tenderizer. My last use of the gate technique had knocked over a table. Next time it might miss the mark and dump me off a cliff. It’d be hard to accomplish anything splattered across the bottom of a ravine.
Hard, but not impossible.
“Fine, I’ll get some rest,” I conceded. “But tomorrow night I’m headed to Shambala to get some answers. I don’t know what the sages are doing with the Design, but I don’t want to give them any more of a head start than they already have.”
“Tomorrow will take care of itself,” Hahen said. “I brought some food from the dining hall. It’s in the refrigerator there.”
“Thanks,” I said, raking my fingers through my hair.
“I’m sorry, Hahen. There’s no need for me to be rude to you.” I bowed deeply, then retrieved the plate of food from the refrigerator and shoveled it down my throat. I didn’t even take time to warm it up.
“I will see you in the morning,” Hahen said with a smile. “I’d rather not watch you eat like an animal.”
With that, the rat spirit vanished from my suite, leaving me alone. I chowed down on the rest of the plate, appreciating the calories and the fuel they provided more than the taste, and crawled into bed.
I slept terribly that night and woke the next day in a foul mood. Hahen wasn’t waiting for me, which was probably for the best. The last thing I wanted to do was pick a fight with my mentor. He was right, I was wrong, and I didn’t want to admit it.
I examined my channels. It was a relief to see that the worst of the burn had receded. I still looked like I’d been in a train wreck, but my life-threatening injuries had mostly healed. All that remained were superficial wounds that looked worse than they felt. Another couple of weeks, and I’d be back to normal.
Whatever that was.
A banging on my door cut my relief short.
“Who is it?” I shouted at the closed door. “I’m getting dressed.”
“Open up,” a woman’s sharp voice came through the barrier. “Clan Elder Dusalia requests a meeting.”
That was irritating. I had more than enough on my plate without that usurper to my place as elder bothering me. “Tell her I don’t have time.”
“Tell me yourself,” she called. “Now open the door.”
Great. Dusalia was probably here to bust my chops about what had happened yesterday. The burst of power that saved my life had attracted a lot of attention. I was beginning to regret it.
The urge to use the Gate of the Design to leave my dorm seemed like a fantastic idea. Surely it would have recovered enough over the last several hours that I wouldn’t have to worry about it killing me. Hawaii sounded good. Maybe somewhere more exotic. Bali?
I sighed. Putting this confrontation off wouldn’t solve anything.
“Just a second,” I called. My serpents grabbed a clean pair of robes out of the closet, removed the tattered ones I’d collapsed into my bed wearing, then dressed me all in a few seconds. I raked a hand through my tangled hair, then gave up on it. The banging came from the door again.
“I’m coming,” I called.
Dusalia glared at me when I opened the door. She looked exactly as I’d imagined: a tall, severe woman with gray hair braided tight, the long plait running from the nape of her skull down over her shoulder. Gray-green eyes appraised me with open disdain, and the weight of her attention was heavy against my aura.
“You look terrible,” she said. “But you’ll look far worse when I’m through with you. You’ve done a terrible disservice to your clan, Mr. Warin. You must make reparations.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I bluffed. I didn’t have time for inter-clan politics or listening to lectures from my elders. I had real work to do, something Dusalia would never understand. If lying moved this meeting along, I’d lie until I was blue in the face.
“You mean to tell me you weren’t on the Far Horizon yesterday?” she asked.
I gave a helpless shrug and my best puppy dog eyes, which weren’t very good on account of their being solid black. “The last time I checked, the Far Horizon is not on the list of approved vacation spots,” I said. “Besides, the last time I visited the place, things went poorly for me.”
“And you weren’t in Moscow visiting Ms. Hark?” the elder snapped, her eyes narrowing to angry slits. “Lying to me will only dig you into deeper trouble, Mr. Warin. You should come clean with me now.”
This was exhausting. The elder had the authority to punish me, but we both knew that was a dangerous game. I was powerful enough that pushing too hard could backfire and force me to turn rebel. There weren’t many precedents for what to do when a clan member’s core was a full rank above their elder’s.
She could, however, make my life difficult. I did not have time for that. Maybe there was a way to make us both, if not happy, at least tolerant of the other person’s existence.
“I have a better idea,” I said. “But if I tell you the dirt I’ve got, you have to promise to keep it close to your vest until it’s time to make a move.”
The elder watched me cautiously as I stepped back and let her into my room. I didn’t want the two Guardians in the hall eavesdropping on the rest of our conversation. Let them report back to the sages that I was making deals with my clan’s leadership.
That would keep everyone on their toes.
She raised an eyebrow as I locked the door. “Are you expecting trouble from the Guardians?”
I sighed and gestured to the table in the common area. The coffee maker that came with the dorm room was utter garbage, but caffeinated swill was better than no caffeine at all. “Lady,” I said, “I expect trouble from everyone.”
She watched as I puttered around with the plastic machine, filling it with vile pre-ground coffee and unfiltered water from the tap. I kept a stash of better beans and a grinder in the cupboard, but there was no way I’d share that with an intruder who’d stolen my title as Clan Elder while my mind was occupied fixing all of creation.
Yes, I was more than a little bitter about that. If I were still the elder of the Shadow Phoenixes, I’d have the freedom and power I needed to get work done. As it stood now, I had to deal with suspicious jerks and controlling bureaucrats who kept messing things up.
“What is this information you’ve uncovered?” Dusalia asked. “And what makes you think I’ll care enough about it to forego the punishment you so richly deserve?”
“You keep saying I did something wrong,” I said, annoyed, “but you won’t tell me what I did that was so awful. And why whatever I did is a problem for you.”
The machine chugged as the pump forced water through the grounds and into the plastic mug resting on its base. I watched a few drops of the dark, dripping fluid emerge, then leaned back on the counter to face the table.
Dusalia seemed taken aback at my question. She’d probably gone through most of her adult life with no one questioning her. Judging by the aspects in her aura, she was more confused than angry about it.
“I thought it was obvious,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You took portal network transport into forbidden areas without prior authorization.”
It was my turn to look confused. If that was all she had on me, then maybe she didn’t know about the ridiculous amount of energy I’d pumped out from the Far Horizon. I covered up my reaction, I hoped, with some bluster of my own.
“Seems like a trivial charge,” I said, “especially because I know you won’t see any security footage with my smiling face going
through a portal last night.”
Dusalia said nothing.
“Who’s standing on your neck?” I asked.
Still nothing. But her silence was as good as an admission of guilt. She’d come here to shake me down, but only because someone else had given her a shove.
The coffee maker finished with a chuckling burble and a hissing gout of steam. “Cream and sugar?”
Dusalia blinked, like my request was too ludicrous to consider. My correct guess had put the elder off her game. “Both,” she said.
I fixed the coffee for her, then used my serpents to put it in front of her. It was a delicate operation, but well worth the look of shock on the elder’s face. She’d never seen anyone like me.
“You can fight me,” I offered, “or work with me. If you could ask my former elders, they’d all tell you that working with me is much better for your health.”
“You broke the rules,” she said. “You must be punished—”
“I’ll give you something, then you give me something,” I said. “That’s how this works.”
The elder glared at me for a long moment, her aura seething with anger aspects. She didn’t like my attitude. She didn’t like being pushed around from the front and back. And, most of all, she didn’t like being utterly out of control.
Too bad. She should have thought twice before running errands for the sages. It had to be them. No one else had the juice to make an elder look simultaneously constipated and nauseated with fear.
“I’m taking an enormous risk,” she started. “This information must be precious, or I can’t agree to betray my patron.”
“The sages aren’t your patrons,” I said, trying for warm and comforting, but probably ending up farther to the condescending side of the spectrum. “They’ll use you, just like they want to use me. Or, you can work with me and I’ll get their leash off your neck. As a gesture of good faith, I will give you a tasty tidbit.”