“Glad you understand, Holiness. We shall await word.” Jiminez stood up. “I need to go supervise the search efforts.”
“Go in peace, Commander,” said the Pope, making the sign of the Cross. “We hope this is all over as soon as possible.”
Jiminez grunted. “One way or the other, it will be.”
Chapter 85
Katerina: lioness in repose
She sipped mint julep by the lake and watched them come with eyes that did not blink. The Moon was full tonight. Its silver rays revealed the men – their torches seemed redundant. As she often did these days and nights, Katerina Martinez toyed with her jeweled dagger, then slipped it back into the sheath low on her leg. No. She was no Juliet, to mourn her love with premature demise.
At first they went inside the house, and she nodded to herself. Her candle had burned down; the meager light that would have marked her presence now a curl of smoke. Yet even without its beacon, they'd find her here beside the lake. She had not left the grounds in several months.
At last, while horses whinnied, a line of light extruded from the house. Finally. She hoped they had been gentle with Esmeralda.
They did not hurry, nor did she expect it. She took another sip of her bourbon and mint. Come closer, she thought. Yes, come closer, and see how far I can spit.
But they drew up short of her range. Their leader was a Commander; she could make out his insignia now. Vaco.
He hesitated. “My Lady Honchessa...”
“Don't.” She regarded him. “That title now belongs to the woman my son Jeffrey takes to be his wife.”
“As you wish. Have you --”
“-- seen my son? No, sir, I have not. Are you going to stand there and pretend you have not had your men watching my house for days...even before you made your cowardly betrayal?”
He stiffened, and she wondered idly if she was trying to goad him into doing what her dagger might yet do.
“We both know my watchers might have been eluded, Lady. As a citizen of the Empire, it is your duty to assist us.”
She laughed, a bit louder than she intended, probably from the alcohol that fortified her. “You speak to me of duty? You, who have neither kept to your oath, nor fetched my late husband's remains?”
His eyes narrowed. “My oath is to the Empire. When leaders forget its destiny, when steersmen drift off course, will not the loyal sailors seize the wheel, and make correction?”
“A pretty speech, for an Army man. But you mix metaphors.” She raised her glass again. “What some call correction, others name it truly as mutiny, were Texas a ship.”
He shrugged. “This is not a debate, Lady, nor you a judge. History will someday have its say. Meanwhile, we proceed.”
She yawned indifference. “Proceed to do...what? Am I to be a martyr or a hostage? I'll warn you that I do not give a shit. There is nothing you can wring from me to further your agenda. Do your worst. That is, if you have not done it already by making your Honcho a hunted man.”
“We both know it's only a matter of time before we have him.”
“Do we now? If that's so, then why waste time with me? Do you come to gloat? Or I am just a loose end that needs...trimming?”
He frowned at that, and eyed her glass. “I'll let that pass, because you've obviously been drowning your sorrows. But whatever you might think of me, you can't think a Texas man would ever harm a lady.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “That's not what Jeffrey said about Brutus.” Her eyes bored into his. “Don't try to tell me he wasn't one of you, Vaco.” She sipped again. “If he hadn't perished in the invasion of Denver, I'm sure Commander Glock would be the one speaking to me of my duty.”
Commander Vaco turned away for a moment. When he faced her again, he had himself under control. “Here is what happens next,” he said. “You will remain here under guard until your son is apprehended.”
“You mean, murdered. Or will you hold a mock trial first?”
“When we select the new Honcho....”
“...when you rebels pick your designated usurper...”
“...you will vacate the house. We will find somewhere to relocate you, and you will live out the remainder of your life in relative comfort, providing you refrain from attempting to meddle in affairs of state.”
“You bribe me with a pension? What a gentleman.” The venom dripping from the word could have eaten holes in the table. “Begone. Off with your dogs to chase the noble fox.”
Chapter 86
Nathan: secrets
מי ששומר פיו ולשון שומרת את נשמתו מהצרות
“Whoever guards his mouth and tongue keeps his soul from troubles.”
– Proverbs 21:23
Nervously he knocked on the door., hoping he was doing the right thing. After a moment the unfamiliar voice answered. “Yes?”
“Father Andrews, I need to speak with you.”
Andrews opened the door. He seemed preoccupied. “Come on in. I was just finishing my prayers.” He led Nathan into the sparsely furnished chambers. Nathan looked about and saw a crucifix hanging on one wall, a sofa that someone had slept in recently, and an open Bible on the little table next to an empty cider mug.
Andrews straightened his robes and eyed him. “Have we met before, lad? If so, I must apologize for not recognizing you.”
“We haven't father. Mainly because I'm from New Israel.”
Now the priest peered at him. “Really?” He blinked. “Well, this is a first, for me. What can I do for you?”
Nathan sank into a seat. “Um, well I need to talk to someone, and I hear you are used to keeping secrets.” That didn't come out well, he decided. “I mean, I hear people tell you things you keep to yourself.”
Andrews nodded. “That's true. The seal of the confessional is a sacred duty. No one would unburden themselves if I spread their guilty secrets around. Is there something you need to confess?”
Nathan squirmed in the chair. “Not exactly. I mean, it's like this. I have an idea that I think will help the school, but it's something I'm not supposed to talk about. I need some guidance, and if I can't go forward with this, then I don't want to disclose anything that can't be unsaid, if you know what I mean.”
Andrews frowned and took a seat across from him. He drummed his fingers on the table. “I'm not sure I do. But take your time. I guess we're both in unexplored territory now.”
“Do you know about the trouble we're having in the School?”
Andrews studied him. “I've heard some of it. The suspicion is that one of the students is sabotaging things, trying to stir up trouble among the students, or between student wizards and the ordinary soldiers. Is that what you're referring to?”
“Yes.” He swallowed.
Andrews interlaced his fingers. “Are you telling me that you've done something, something that's bothering you?”
“No!” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I mean, no, father, but I think I know how to catch whoever is doing it.”
“Then why are you telling me, instead of Xander or Lester?'
“That's the hard part. Someone I know has a trick that could be what they need...but no one knows he can do magic, and I'm not supposed to tell anyone.”
The priest gazed at him for a minute. “Is there any chance you could persuade this person to teach you the trick, so you could show it to Xander?”
Nathan shook his head. “I thought of that. But he'd want to know where I learned it. Then what would I say?”
“True.” Andrews rubbed his chin. “And I suppose you can't tell me who it is, either.” He sighed. “Look, if you want my advice, then here it is. Tell this person what you've told me, and how important this is, and ask if they'll make an exception in this one case.”
Nathan looked down at the table. “I guess that's all I can do. I was hoping you could tell me something else, something I haven't thought of. But if he says no, then I'm just stuck with that.” He stood up. “Thank you, father. Carolyn's wait
ing to escort me back up to the school floors.”
Andrews exhaled. “If it helps, I can tell you that I think Xander's an honorable man. He can keep your friend's secret. Maybe it will help if you pass that on.”
“Maybe,” Nathan said, doubtfully. He turned to leave, then another thought occurred to him. “Father, can I ask you something? How did you end up here? I've heard the Church disapproves of wizards. According to them, sorcery is a sin, a way of getting involved with demonic influences.”
Now Andrews rose, to show him to the door. “They have said that, in the past, that's true. But you have to understand that people used to be a lot more superstitious in the old days than I think they are now. In your Torah, our Old Testament, Saul consulted a medium or witch to conjure up the spirit of Samuel. The spirit, or Samuel, ghost if you believe that, tells Saul he has disobeyed God.”
“In a copy of the Septuagint I've seen,” said Nathan, “she is called a ventriloquist. But that might be because of the Alexandrian translators who said demons don't exist.”
“Well from what little I know, Xander has nothing to do with demons. I'd bet he never mentions them in your classes up there. I hear he calls it psionic engineering, something done with the mind influencing reality. More like the working of miracles than the tricks of demons. From that, and what I know of him, I think Rado's senior 'wizard' is nothing the Church should be afraid of.”
“Do you think the Church's attitude will change?”
“Maybe. To answer your question, how I ended up here, well Xander rescued me from some soldiers and I never got around to going home.” While Nathan waited for a knock on the door from Carolyn, the priest told him the story.
“So he knew how to undo the alien magic. To make the artifacts at St. Farker's useless to them.”
“Yes. Or just re-did them in the opposite direction. Either way, he made them inert.”
“So you could go back there if you wanted to.”
“Probably, except for two things. First, they might think I did a swap – that I still have the real artifacts. But to be honest, the real reason is the second one, that it's just starting to get interesting up here in Denver.”
Chapter 87
Isaac: trading and trapping
“I don't speak because I have the power to speak; I speak because I don't have the power to remain silent.”
– Rabbi A. Y. Kook
The diplomats from Okla and Kansouri were retiring for the night, but Qusay remained, as if he had something to bring up in their absence.
Isaac sipped his wine and waited him out. It was rather good; he guessed it had recently come from Californ on one of the regular caravans. His smile echoed the one he saw on the darker man's countenance: I can wait if you can.
Perhaps he was being silly. The 3-way trade agreement they had been hammering out with Kristana was a brilliant idea, but there were a few sticking points. The timing, for example.
If the Emirates traded crops to Rado in return for swizzles, then they had most of what they needed for their agrarian-centric economy. If New Israel expanded their book-printing, requiring more paper than their few river-powered mills could produce, they would be at the mercy of the Emirates. Unless they got their paper from the Emirates on time, they would have trouble trading books for swizzles with Rado. Conversely, if New Israel were slow in their ore shipments to the Emirates, this would have little or no effect on the ability of the Emirates to ship crops to Rado.
This appeared to be a serious flaw. He very much doubted that he could sell the idea of formal, official trade with the Emirates to his colleagues in New Israel with such a loophole.
“Isaac,” said Qusay suddenly, do you play cards?”
“What?” The other man's question jolted him out of his ruminations. Isaac stared at the Muslim. What does that have to do with anything? “Why?”
Qusay showed him a little smile, as if he had scored a verbal point that made up for having broken down and spoken first. “I was thinking perhaps it might be time for both of us to lay our cards on the table, so to speak. In other words, to speak frankly.”
“And what do you mean by that?” After you, Qusay!
“What I mean,” said Qusay, for the first time sounding a bit impatient with his reticence, “is that we can both recognize other magic-users when we are near them. I'm quite certain Xander recognized me upon my arrival with Kareef...just as he and I both recognized you when you showed up with Nathan.”
What was the point of denying it, especially when there were no others near to hear his admission? “Yes,” said Isaac. “I'm aware of that. I presumed that we were each avoiding the subject out of fears that the other's government might expect them to attack all foreign miracle-workers on sight.”
Qusay laughed. “Surely we can agree not to repeat the errors of our forefathers!”
“I would hope so. Because I suspect we would both lose.”
Qusay's eyes glittered with interest. An eyebrow arched. “Oh,” he said, deliberately casual. “How so?”
“I suspect that our presences here at this time are no accident,” said Isaac. “Our governments have sent a message to each other. By sending mage-ambassadors, each is tacitly admitting yes, we have them too. Neither nation would send their only mage into a potential war zone, so both are thus declaring that they have many. That each can spare one to make a point.”
“I cannot fault your reasoning,” Qusay said. “Our situation is a lot like the days of the Ancients before the aliens arrived. Back then they had a balance of power in the form of thousands of nuclear missiles. Now, we have a balance of magical power.”
“Collectively, perhaps,” said Isaac. “But individually, less so.”
“Oh?”
“I agree, let's be frank, Qusay. Like my colleagues back East, I'm a master of energy-magic. “I can make everflames any time I want, and my control over my energetic vicinity makes me immune to heating or freezing attacks.” He sipped the wine. “Unless I'm wrong, you are a master of spin magic. You can make everwheels, and no one can twist-rip you, as you can do to those without such control.”
He set the wineglass down and regarded Qusay evenly. “If we were to attack each other, we would both die. Thus, we would both lose. Or so I believe. Am I wrong?”
Qusay laughed. “You're not wrong. It is exactly as I hoped. We are made safe by our vulnerabilities.”
“Indeed,” said Isaac. “Which brings me to my next point. This trade agreement we are negotiating needs to be changed. There is a way to make it better, but our respective governments might not like it.”
“How so?”
“In its current form, the agreement is unbalanced. Rado is providing swizzles, whereas our countries would ship more mundane goods. All very fine, but don't you think it would be better to openly acknowledge our strengths as well as out weaknesses? Just as Rado provides swizzles, the Emirates could ship everwheels, and new Israel could provide everflames. Then all three of us would have all three kinds of tools to advance our civilization.”
Qusay stood up and began to pace on his side of the table. “There is much merit in your suggestion,” he said. “But you are correct. Our governments will not like it. They will not want to acknowledge what they have that others do not. Such admissions would tempt less enlightened countries to invade, rather than to trade.”
Isaac tossed down the remainder of his wine and stood. “Which leads me to my third point. I think the only way to do this and keep the peace will be for both of us to join Kristana's new Union.”
Qusay stopped pacing. “I salute your ambition,” he said, shaking his head. “But can we accomplish so much change in one fell swoop? It may prove to be a difficult sell.”
Isaac agreed with him. “Then let's get to it,” he said. “Starting tomorrow. I can't wait to see the look on Kristana's face.”
He walked Qusay up as far as the Emirates floor and then continued up to his own. As he reached his own landing, he heard voices coming
down the stairs from above.
These proved to be Nathan and the female student, Carolyn. Both were wearing gray robes. “So they are finally letting students out of that prison they call a school, are they?” he said, eyes twinkling.
His son rolled his eyes. “We really need to talk,” he said. “I have a lot of news, and a big favor to ask.”
“I'll wait here,” the woman said, pulling a book of geography out of her robes. “Just let me know when you're ready to go back up. I don't want to make Lester wait too long for me to relieve him.”
He led Nathan in and closed the door. “You know, you could have just sent word, and I would have come up to you.”
“I know you would have.” Nathan sat on a chair and looked up at him. “But I wanted to talk to you in private.”
“Is it the other students?” Isaac pulled up a chair and sank into it. “Is one of them picking on you. The one from the Emirates?”
Nathan flushed. “No, that's not it. Someone is trying to undermine the school, and they think it's one of the students.” He looked down. “They questioned us, but they still don't know who it is.”
“I see. But why are you telling me? What can I do about it?”
“When we were traveling here, you said we were safe from wild animals because every night you set the wards. Is that a Tzaddik thing?”
“It's one of the things we learn, yes.”
“How does it work? Does it make a barrier, or scare them away?”
“No,” he said. “It's a little like an old trick hunters use when they're camped out in the woods. The hunters sprinkle twigs around their campsite, so that if a bear or wolf comes close the snapping of the twigs wakes the hunters up. The ward is a fragile pattern that stores a little energy. If a large animal comes too close, it breaks the pattern, releasing the energy, and waking up whoever set the ward.” He looked at his Nathan. “Why are you asking me about wards?”
Spinspace: The Space of Spins (The Metaspace Chronicles Book 2) Page 28
