Footwizard

by Terry Mancour

  “So this is a medical treasure trove,” I nodded, impressed. It’s easy to impress an ignorant man, but I trusted Lilastien’s judgement.

  “You have no idea, Minalan,” she sighed, wistfully. “I’ve been dealing with human ailments armed with nothing more than songspells and pre-industrial technology for four centuries, at the Tower of Refuge. That’s like trying to do magic without irionite.”

  “You seemed to have done all right,” I shrugged.

  “I’ve lost too many patients I could have saved, over the years, if I had access to a place like this. When they first came here, your ancestors could do things with their tekka that even our magic couldn’t manage, when it came to human medicine. It was quite remarkable. Ah! But no treasure could be greater than this!” she said, triumphantly, as she grabbed an object from a shelf with reverence.

  It was the size and shape of a small tray, made of some hard white substance. She touched it in a familiar way, and suddenly the white on its face was replaced by a series of symbols.

  “What’s that?” I asked, ignorantly.

  “This, my boy, is a Colonial Therapeutics Mark Four Medical Tablet Scanner, Field Model,” she said, reading from the tray. “It’s a bit clunkier than the ones I used back on Perwyn, but that’s likely to make it more durable in these rugged conditions. And there are three of them here!” she said, excitedly.

  “That thing is medicine?” I asked, intrigued.

  “Think of it as a medical baculus . . . only far more accurate. It has a seventy-five terabyte medical library included. A full range of diagnostic equipment. And a Level Two Constructed Intelligence medical assistance program that can tell you how to do anything up to brain surgery. So, it’s like a medical baculus with a better doctor inside than any in the Five Duchies, apart from me. A pity they didn’t stock this place with a biochemical synthesizer, Minalan – a machine that can produce thousands of useful medicines. Your people have lost so much,” she said, with genuine sympathy. “It pains me to see how far you have fallen.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Being told that your people used to be geniuses and were now ignorant farmers was a little off-putting.

  “We get by,” I shrugged, a little miffed.

  “Oh, I know you do,” Lilastien sighed. “Your race is truly resilient. More than mine, I suspect. You crossed the void without magic. You forged a hostile world into a beatific colony. You live so briefly, but shine so brightly.”

  “I think that’s your romantic view of us speaking,” I dismissed.

  “Is it?” she challenged, sharply.

  “Am I wrong?” I riposted. “I appreciate the assistance, Lilastien, I truly do. And the adoration, though it’s misplaced. But your opinion, as well-informed as it is, ignores the reality of our lives. Most of us are woefully stupid, painfully ignorant, and possessing a miserable disposition. Perhaps it’s best we die so quickly. Humanity seems a disappointment, most of the time. Even to our own gods.”

  “Now, now, Minalan,” Lilastien chided. “If I was Ithalia or one of the other Emissaries, I might harken to your words. But I know better. Yours is not the only race I’ve studied, if you recall. I was a student of the Vundel, for over a century. And, before that, I studied the Met Sakinsa, briefly. As well as my own folk,” she added, defiantly. “I, alone, have insight into four different sapient species. Four civilizations, so to speak. The Vundel are remarkable for their endurance. The Met Sakinsa for their wisdom. The Alka Alon for their subtlety.

  “But humanity? Humanity is resilient. As simple peasant farmers or scientists who understand the nature of the universe, humanity alone of the species of Callidore has the resilience to find a way to succeed. To survive.”

  “We do face the end of the world,” I reminded her, grimly.

  “Which proves my point. The Vundel embrace fatalism, in the face of their doom. The Met Sakinsa cleave to intuitive philosophy and have mistaken doom for destiny, comforted by the unfulfilled promise of the Grandfather Tree. And the Alka Alon have presented cowardly retreat as subtle wisdom.

  “But humanity?” she declared. “Humanity may save us all, because of its resilience. Because you stupid, silly, ephemeral primates just don’t understand when you are beaten. When the universe clubs you down, you rise again and keep fighting. When everything is taken from you, you seem to find some inner strength to keep going, even when every sane and reasonable perspective says that you are defeated. You are literally too stupid to know when you are down,” she pronounced.

  “Your choice of inspiration is questionable,” I chuckled.

  “I work with what I’ve got,” she shrugged. “Look, I know I’m an old, half-crazed Alka Alon lady with a fetish for other races,” she said with a resigned sigh. “I’m over-educated and radicalized by my supreme desire to understand the ‘other’ in the universe. But I’m not wrong, Minalan.

  “The Vundel have given up. The Met Sakinsa will accept the fate the universe has dictated to it as part of the natural cycle. The Alka Alon will run and hide and pretend that we’re being noble in doing so. But humanity? Humanity is too bloody stupid to know when it’s finished. It keeps fighting, and striving, and struggling, when all else seems lost. And damn if you don’t occasionally find victory, in a sea of defeat. That, my boy,” she insisted, “that is what makes your folk special!”

  “Then why don’t I feel particularly special?” I asked, shaking my head.

  “Because you don’t truly understand your own capabilities,” she said, poking a finger into my chest. “Your people don’t need magic. Indeed, I think it hampered your race when it was discovered some of you had rajira. It’s made you soft. Let me show you what power you had, when you had no Talent, and had to rely on your wits and your institutions to sustain you. I pity the day you gave it all up in exchange for the promise of mere arcane power.”

  When we rode back to the Kasari camp, that evening, I was a far better informed wizard about our storied past. Lilastien had shown me things in our brief few hours at Unger Station that I never would have dreamed.

  I saw visions of humanity’s home planet. Terra. I saw images of Terran sunsets, Terran music, Terran technology that few in my age ever dreamt of. I was amazed at what a colorful, varied world my ancestors came from. Massive cities with buildings thousands of feet tall. Flying ships. Floating cities. Ocean-borne ships of steel the size of a leviathan. The entire thing was surreal, to see so many people in such a strange environment.

  It was enchanting, even awe-inspiring, though I did not understand half of what I was seeing. To prove that the Ancients hadn’t always been that advanced she reached back even deeper into the archives and showed me pictures of rural scenes that could have been seen in any Riverlands manor. She even showed me a few castles that could have been anywhere in the Five Duchies.

  The music was good, though. Some of it even seemed familiar.

  But it gave me a sense of hope that my people had gone from castles and farmsteads to ships that could cross the void – all without magic. It gave me hope, at the same time I realized how much power they must have had.

  I held some of that power in my hand, now. Lilastien had insisted that we test the weapons we found in the security locker of the base out on the “landing stage” of the station. I learned the basics of how to prime, aim and fire a plasma rifle and pistol. I learned the mechanics of our ancestors’ projectile weapons and got the opportunity to use them.

  It was a small but impressive arsenal that Lilastien distributed among my party. After a detailed explanation of each weapon, and a convincing demonstration, she entrusted the various implements of destruction to us in careful moderation. When I rode down the slope from Unger Station, I carried a plasma rifle – new words for me to master – instead of a baculus. It worked like a simple battle staff, in function, but was entirely un-reliant on magic.

  Similarly the wand-like ten-millimeter pistol – another new word – rode on my hip where I usually carried a dagger. I�
��d fired it several times, now. It worked, in principle, like a crossbow, but the power implicit in the device was far greater than a mere bolt. Lilastien had demonstrated that on the mountain slope. She may have expressed her ignorance of colonial weaponry, but she seemed adept enough to reduce a target to dust when she demonstrated the power of the weapons.

  I didn’t hesitate to arm ourselves once we understood the basics. Nattia and Travid had chosen the two hunting rifles, while Gareth contented himself with a plasma pistol. I think he was suspicious of such powerful nonmagical weapons, even if he was intrigued by their design. All of us were carrying radios, now – devices that allowed us to communicate with each other by voice, within a certain range. I could certainly see the value in that. They had been a bit trickier to figure out than the weapons, but the principle seemed simple enough.

  “I only wish that damned boulder wasn’t in the way,” she fumed, as we finally rode down the mountain, near dusk. “Both of those Beasts were operable, I’m sure! Or could be, with a little time and attention. If we could actually get them down the mountain, they would be incredibly useful. Pity. They’re armored, too. Little castles on wheels,” she said, shaking her head.

  “The horses will suffice,” I chuckled. “You have already gifted us with mighty treasures from our past,” I said, hefting the plasma rifle. “Treasures that may well turn the tide when magic has failed. Be content, Lilastien. You have introduced magi to the wonders of our ancient civilization. You have given us power in a land that denies us our own power. I am no longer dependent on mere steel for our defense. That was unanticipated. And I thank you.”

  “Bah! I feel like I’ve barely introduced you to the power the ancient humani once wielded,” she dismissed, as she patted the stock of her own plasma rifle. “These are trinkets, compared to what you once had. And what you deserve to have.”

  “Trinkets, perhaps,” I conceded, patting the plasma rifle. “Still, you have armed me in a place I felt naked and terrified. That boon is not to be forgotten.”

  “It looks like they got some use, before this place was abandoned,” she noted, as she glanced out at the valley, and the beautiful sunset. “That implies some danger. But they’re still in good condition, all things considered.

  “Age is always a challenge,” I agreed.

  “They aren’t bad, for being six hundred years old. The plasma weapons’ power cells are degraded, but they will still fire about a hundred and fifty full-power charges, if I read the meter correctly. Oh, and the radios only have a three-month charge. They used to be good for twice that long. The hunting rifles and pistol ammunition should be functional, but Forseti cautioned me that as many as one in ten cartridges may be inert.”

  “They were interesting to try. Simpler than a wand. I didn’t expect the loud explosion with the firearms,” I admitted.

  “Your ancestors preferred energy weapons because they were more powerful and efficient, but the ‘quantum field effect’ frequently made them unreliable. Magic does strange things to solid state electronics. But in this place, they would work as intended. Elsewhere, they often went back to alchemically powered firearms for their police and security forces. But most of the machines to make them sunk with Perwyn. After that, these things got scarce.”

  “That’s probably a good thing,” I shrugged. “The Mage Wars of the Late Magocracy were pretty brutal. With weapons like these, they would have been much bloodier.”

  “But they would have been able to resist the Narasi Invasion,” she reminded me. “I do hope it doesn’t take Forseti too long to re-establish control over the installation. It would be interesting to see if there are any records of other facilities like this that may have survived intact. I can work wonders with those three medical scanners, and the robotic surgery suite is incredible, but what I could do with a proper clinic! Well, if nothing else I can start a medical school with what I’ve gathered here.”

  “I’ll make sure of it,” I agreed. “Whatever we can recover from those ancient days, we should use. Besides, it will be good for Vanador’s economy,” I decided.

  “It will be good for humanity’s health,” she countered. “I’ll start having Forseti pre-program one of the scanners for that, when we return in a week or so to check his progress. In the meantime, I’m incredibly pleased he added music to this one,” she said, as she tapped on the face of it. “This sunset is inspiring me . . . maybe some John Denver, I think . . .”

  Everyone was pleased with our report, when we returned to the Kasari base just in time for the evening communal meal. We showed off our new equipment and gave some basic demonstrations of how they worked. Master Suhi was particularly intrigued by the firearms, of course, inspecting each one with great interest, and remarking on its design.

  “So, you’ve completed part of your quest,” Fondaras said, when he approached me after dinner, pipe in hand.

  “Part of a part of our quest,” I corrected. “Forseti hasn’t learned anything terribly useful, yet, but I’m hopeful. And as pleasant as the hospitality of the Kasari is, we should move along toward the next part of our itinerary. Our vassals.”

  “The Domain of Anferny,” he nodded. “I’m eager to see it again. But we will ride to Midmarket, first,” he explained. “It’s on the way, and there the dwarves can depart on their errand.”

  I glanced over at the Karshak and the Dradrien, who were each smoking and trading stories in their own language. For traditional rivals, Suhi and Azhguri only occasionally argued, now. Perhaps the responsibility for visiting the Kilnusk was influencing their perspective. From what I understood whether or not the Kilnusk’s exile was lifted would depend on their report.

  “What can we expect at Midmarket?” I asked, concerned at the possibility of conflict along the way.

  “It is a small market village that, as the name implies, and it lies midway between the various settlements. That’s where the majority of trade occurs. The market does contain some interesting fare, but there’s not much to it, nor much to see in the village, from what I recall. What it does offer is a road to Anferny and likely a guide. The Kasari tell me that market day is the day after tomorrow. We can make it there in a day, spend the night, and then leave with the retiring merchants back to the domain.”

  “A sound plan,” I nodded, preparing my own pipe. “Is there much chance of danger on the road?”

  He gave a convincing shrug. “This is Anghysbel. Anything can happen. And usually does.”

  We set out the next morning after a big breakfast of porridge, griddle cakes, and sausage that seemed to be a tradition amongst the Kasari. Indeed, they were sending a delegation to Midmarket, themselves, who would act as our guides. Travid, unsurprisingly, arranged to have himself assigned to that duty. Ostensibly it was to spend more time with his sister, but I think his critical assessment of his potential future brother-in-law had as much to do with it. Travid remained suspicious of the mage, though not entirely hostile.

  Ithalia rode cover for us on her bird, and Nattia’s mount flew unmounted as the Sky Captain rode on the ground with us. The journey was improved by the use of the radios, when Lilastien presented her granddaughter with one of the spares she had snagged. After that, she was able to report clearly and routinely what she was seeing from the sky as easily as if it were mind-to-mind.

  I appreciated that because we started to see odd creatures emerge from the bush almost immediately. As the grasslands around the entrance of the vale gave way to more underbrush and larger stands of trees, we began to witness animals and insects most of us had never seen before. From hook-shaped reptiles that dangled in tree branches to herds of insects the size of a dog gnawing on deadfall to a four-foot long furry caterpillar calmly crossing the road, Anghysbel was replete in wonders more exotic than Farise could boast. I kept my new weaponry close at hand on the seat of the wagon, between Alya and I.

  Fondaras tried his best to explain what they were, when we encountered them, and the Kasari helpfully gave detailed taxon
omies and natural histories of each species, including which ones were dangerous and which were edible. Apparently, they had an entire course of study on the natural history of the vale, as part of their achievements, and it went far beyond the basics. There was a practical use for it, of course, as the Kasari hunted and trapped as a portion of their economy, and then traded their hides, skins, and other handicrafts with the other communities. They had three packhorses loaded with such supplies to be traded at Midmarket.

  “Any fear of bandits in these woods?” I asked, curious. The question brought laughter from the Kasari who rode alongside our wagon for a time.

  “Who would be a bandit?” Travid asked. Despite his antipathy toward Gareth, he was a friendly lad, and had known Fondaras for years. He was eager to be helpful to the Spellmonger, and proved an able native guide. “We wouldn’t allow it. Nor would Anferny, Grost Kilnuskum or Lakeshire. None of us want that sort of trouble around.”

  “None of the communities is very large,” Fondaras explained. “Each polices its own lands and wards them from other dangers in a surprisingly cooperative fashion. There are enough things that can kill you in Anghysbel. No need to allow your own people to do it.”

  “Besides,” Travid added, “a bandit would starve, here. Most of trade is in barter. There is a little silver and gold, but most transactions are just swapping. Anferny grows bread, the Kilnusk mine and forge, the Kasari hunt, trap and fish, and Lakeshire grows vegetables and makes spirits. It’s just easier to trade directly than using coin, for most things. And where could a bandit spend that coin once he stole it? He’d be known across the vale in a fortnight. And none would give him refuge. That sort of fellow would get sent back.”