Fires of Memory

by Washburn, Scott;

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “Now, before we go on, I would like a full accounting from you on what, if anything, the wizards are able to do—and how that Hegurian bastard managed to find out all the things I could not!”

  “Yes, sir,” said Matt. He was relieved that this was all out in the open now—and it had not gone as badly as he had feared. He proceeded to tell the general about the ‘waterbugs’ and the lead crystal firefly barrier. As he expected, neither one terribly impressed the man.

  “Well, I’m a bit relieved that there has been some progress—however small. I agree that the crystal probably isn’t a practical solution, but we’ll put out a call for glassmakers anyway. We might be able to safeguard some powder, although it remains uncertain if that will do any good. But tell me, Colonel, in your opinion, is there any hope at all for some new discovery? Something might really make a difference?”

  “I don’t know, sir. They are all working terribly hard. Realistically, we have, at most, three months before we’re likely to meet the Kaifs. Whether they can come up with anything in that time, I just don’t…”

  There was a knock on the conference room door that interrupted him. A servant poked his head in. “Excuse, me, my lords, but Master Carabello is here and wishes to speak with Colonel Krasner. He says it is most urgent.” Matt’s eyebrows shot up. Carabello, here? What could be that important? For a moment his hopes rose, but then he reflected that he was probably here to report that Hesseran had accidentally blown up the whole estate this time. Matt looked to General DeSlitz who simply nodded.

  “Send him in,” said Matt to the servant. A moment later, Carabello entered. He was smiling, which was good, although he seemed a bit intimidated by all the uniformed officers who were now staring at him. Matt noticed that the man was splattered with mud and was clutching a large leather valise in his hands. Had he found something?

  “Ah, Master Carabello,” said General DeSlitz, “welcome to our little meeting. I understand you have something urgent to report? Please have a seat and tell us about it.”

  Carabello glanced over to Matt and looked uncertain. Matt just waved him to a chair. “Yes, please sit down, Jarren. And don’t worry: we have no secrets from the general.” Carabello’s eyes widened and he swallowed nervously as he sat. He fumbled around with the leather case and carefully drew out an old book.

  “I found something very interesting today. I think it might be the answer we’ve been looking for.”

  The silence that answered clearly startled Carabello. Obviously he was expecting something a bit more enthusiastic.

  “Hopefully not more lead crystal cartridge boxes,” muttered one of the officers.

  “Uh, no, no, not that at all,” He began flipping through the pages of the book until he found what he was looking for. “Here it is. This was written by an alchemist about forty years before the Battle of Soor. Now, we had already learned about how fake magickers used gunpowder to fool unknowing people, and how the Seekers could be used to expose the frauds. But in addition to those frauds, there were also legitimate users of gunpowder. Fireworks makers, in particular, used it and had a perfect right to pursue their avocation. But naturally, their wares were just as vulnerable to the Seekers as…”

  “Master Carabello,” interrupted Matt, “could you please get to the point?”

  “What? Oh, I’m sorry. Well, to summarize: the legitimate users of gunpowder didn’t want their powder to be exploded accidentally by Seekers sent against someone else. This alchemist apparently devised a means to make gunpowder immune to the Seekers.”

  “What!?” cried a dozen voices simultaneously.

  “The author provides an unusually detailed description of the spell. Much of it means nothing to a non-magicker, like me, but the wizards seem very excited by this. They seem to think they can recreate the spell.”

  “That’s wonderful!” exclaimed General Saginau. He was echoed by several others. General DeSlitz was not quite so enthusiastic.

  “How long will it take to do that, Master Carabello? And then how much powder can they treat and how long would that take? We don’t have a great deal of time remaining before the Kaifs come east.”

  “I realize that, sir. The wizards are very hopeful that they can devise the spell quickly. Apparently it is a variation on another spell that Idira already knows and that will help. So, perhaps a month to perfect the spell, itself. As for how much powder they can treat, we won’t know that until they have the spell working. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific, but this is not an exact science. At least not yet.”

  “I see. Well, this is still the best news I’ve heard all day. You have my congratulations, Master Carabello. Please keep me informed of the wizards’ progress on this.” He turned back to the assembled officers. “But we shall proceed as I outlined earlier. Training with the non-gunpowder weapons will proceed as quickly as they are available. The fact that our troops are still scattered all over the east complicates this, too. I don’t plan to relocate our headquarters for another month at least, so our couriers are going to be kept very busy.

  “Let’s get to work, gentlemen!”

  *****

  Thelena stood on the balcony overlooking the great audience chamber and stared down at her father. He looked tired, but then he almost always looked tired these days. He was working far too hard. Between teaching his students and attending to the seemingly endless political crises, he never had enough time to rest. She had tried to convince him to slow down, but he had simply smiled and told her there would be time for rest later. She hoped he was right, but for the moment, things looked to be busier than ever.

  The preparations for the spring campaign were in full swing. The snows were nearly gone, and it looked like they would be getting mostly rain from now on. With the thaw, the roads were all mud, but the Kaifeng did not depend on wagons, so that was not a major problem. But they did depend on horses, and horses needed to be fed. There was no possibility of carrying fodder along for a half-million animals, so the army and the families and the herds could not move until the new year’s grass had grown enough to feed the horses. The locals said it would probably be another month, although some fresh green shoots were coming up already.

  So they would ride north. Just three days ago, a huge wagon train had arrived from Heguria laden with tribute. They had been forced to hitch twenty large horses to each wagon to drag them through the mud, but they had arrived. The Hegurian ambassador had groveled before Zarruk and begged him to leave his people in peace. Zarruk had accepted the gift and would abide by the agreement—for now. The ceremony had been impressive and the gifts given out lavish. There was now an incredibly elaborate, gold and diamond chandelier hanging in their tent. Thelena had no clue how they would ever manage to transport it when they moved.

  There had been other arrivals, too. More tribes were braving the mud and scarce grazing lands to arrive in the city. They did not want to miss out on the loot this year. Enough had arrived to form a new helar and elect a new ka. The man was down there now, swearing loyalty to Zarruk. Atark was standing in his usual spot to Zarruk’s right and witnessing the proceedings. As part of the ceremony, her father worked some magic and sent fireballs streaking into one of the fireplaces. It was strictly to overawe the new ka and convince him that the tales he had heard were true. Even from this distance, she could see that the magic had had the desired effect. The ka’s eyes were wide and he bowed more deeply than ever.

  Thelena’s brow furrowed. For some reason, it bothered her that her father would use his magic in such a cavalier fashion. He had been doing more and more of that lately. Perhaps it was because he was no longer the only one who could work the magic now. Some of his students were becoming quite good. Did her father feel the need to continually show that his was the greater power? Or was there some other reason? In her mind’s eye, she could see the skull of Ransurr grinning up at her with the eyes glowing purple. In spite of her eavesdropping, she had never actu
ally seen the skull before, and now she could not get the image out of her head.

  Or the voice.

  There had been a faint voice in her head when she stared at the skull. It had been calling to her, telling her to pick up the skull, hold it to her. It had promised her power and happiness. A loving husband and healthy children. It could give that all to her if she wanted it enough—if she would submit to him. All of that had flashed through her mind in an instant, and it only took her an instant more to realize that it was all a lie. She had stepped away and allowed her father to retrieve the skull and put it back in its box. The wood box was now in a much larger and heavier chest with a very strong lock on it. But the inches of thick oak could not seal in the voice. Ever since that night, she had heard Ransurr whispering to her. Tempting her, pleading with her. Not all the time. Not every night. But he was there.

  And he wanted her.

  It was a hunger deeper and more terrible than she had found in the most sadistic and lust-crazed Varag. Ransurr did not just want her body for a few hours’ pleasure. He wanted her body and her soul—permanently. But he would never have it. Thelena knew exactly what it meant to be a slave, and on some instinctive level, she knew that to submit to the Ghost would mean a slavery more complete and more terrible than anything mortal chains and whips could inflict. No, she was not tempted, and she was certain the Ghost could do her no harm if she did not let it.

  But what about her father?

  Clearly, the Ghost had not taken control of her father as it wanted to take her. If it had, it would no longer be in the skull and demanding her own body. No, that was not the danger. But what sort of influence did the Ghost have over her father? She had noticed from that very first night—the night he had burned Gerrik to death—that he was harder and more violent than she remembered him. Well, she was harder than he probably remembered her, too. They had both been hardened by life’s cruelties. They both had good reason to crave revenge.

  But her thirst for vengeance had been sated very quickly. The sight of Kareen, unconscious at her feet, with the blood from her mangled back spattered on her hand and dress hem, had sated it completely. The sight of five hundred headless bodies and the anguished howls of their doomed souls had purged any remaining hunger to hit back at her tormentors. She had enough of revenge.

  But her father clearly had not. He had ignored her pleas about the sacrifices and had continued to take them. She had heard the plans for the coming campaign and knew that it could be far crueler than what had already taken place. If the enemy resisted—and they would—they would pay for it in a terrible fashion. She found it hard to believe that it was her own father so calmly discussing mass impalements and mass rapes. Was it really him she was hearing, or was it some echo of Ransurr?

  She looked down and saw that the ceremony was nearly finished. She knew that the end of it would include Re-Ka Zarruk embracing his new vassal and then presenting him gifts. One of the gifts would include a naked and terrified slave girl, wrapped in chains, and laid at his feet. Thelena had no desire to see that. She turned and made her way back to her tent.

  * * * * *

  The last soaring note of the symphony died away and the huge audience broke into cheers. Jarren shuddered with delight. The performance had been magnificent and the selection from among his favorites. He glanced to his right and saw Idira with a warm smile on her face that almost countered the dark circles under her eyes. Dark circles under the eyes were standard issue for everyone. They had all been working eighteen hour days for months. Jarren had decided they needed a night off.

  “Oh, that was lovely,” Idira sighed. “It has been so long since I’ve heard anything like that. Thank you for bringing us here, Jarren.”

  “You are very welcome. Consider it a going-away present. We won’t have the chance to do this again for quite a while.” The woman’s smile faded slightly. In just two days they would be taking ship for Laponia. The army was starting to gather and they had to be there. He looked past Idira to where Thaddius, Hesseran, and Lyni were sitting. The alchemist had appeared to enjoy the concert, too, but he could not quite decipher the expression on the young woman’s face.

  “Did you enjoy the music, Lyni?” he dared to ask. She looked over at him and her expression became troubled.

  “I…I’ve never heard anything like that before. My village was poor and far from any town. After that I went to the island. This was… beautiful.”

  “You see, Lyni?” said Idira. “Civilization does have a few redeeming qualities after all.”

  “Maybe it does,” she admitted. “But we’ll soon be leaving it behind—the good and the bad.”

  The audience was filing out of the concert hall. Jarren had secured a private box and they were all here incognito. If it had been known that the wizards were here, they never would have been left alone. They waited until the crowd was nearly gone and then left the box and went down a rear stair. Jarren looked out the back door and was relieved to see only their carriage waiting for them with a small cavalry escort. It was raining rather hard, so there were few people about on the streets. They quickly crossed the short distance to the carriage and got inside. He was surprised to see Colonel Krasner and Lieutenant Prinz already there. Putting seven people in the coach was a bit of a squeeze, but Jarren didn’t mind when he found himself sitting next to Lyni. Was she wearing perfume?

  “I trust you all had a nice time?” asked Krasner after the coach had lurched into motion.

  “Yes, very much,” said Idira and Hesseran together. Lyni and Thad just nodded.

  “I was hoping to let everyone relax a bit, tonight, Colonel,” said Jarren.

  “Well, I’m sorry to interrupt your evening out, but General DeSlitz wants a fresh report on your progress. It’s been a month since you discovered the ‘immunizing’ spell. Do you have it working?”

  “Yes,” said Idira, Hesseran, Lyni, and Jarren in unison.

  “Just ‘yes’?” asked Krasner his eyebrows rising in surprise. “No ‘buts’ or other qualifiers? You can protect the gunpowder?”

  “Yes,” said Jarren. “We ran a series of tests today and it works. That’s one reason we are out celebrating.”

  “It was quite tricky to do, in spite of the instructions we had,” said Hesseran. “Before we found that, I had been experimenting with ways of preventing the fireflies from igniting the gunpowder, but that was just not working. Anything that would stop the fireflies also prevented the gunpowder from being ignited at all. We assumed that gunpowder that would not burn wouldn't be of much use to you."

  “A good assumption. But you found something that does work?”

  “Yes. As we’ve explained before, the Seekers that the Kaifeng are using were originally devised to find things. Lost items, but also things that had been stolen. In fact, that was probably its most common use: tracking down stolen goods. Jewelry primarily, I believe. Obviously you couldn’t send out Seekers to look for stolen coins, because they’d just go after the nearest coins they could find—whether they were stolen or not. But unique items like jewelry could be found and returned.”

  “Fascinating,” said Krasner in a patient voice. “But what does that have to do with gunpowder?”

  “Ah,” said Idira, taking up the explanation, “sadly—or perhaps I should say fortunately—not all magickers were completely law-abiding. Some used their powers for bad purposes. Apparently the thieves’ guilds in some of the larger cities were upset that Seekers could be used to track them down, so they hired magickers to find a way to defeat the Seekers. They devised a spell that could be cast on an object that would prevent any Seeker from finding it. The alchemist who wrote that book used a variation on that spell to protect the gunpowder.”

  “And it works? You’ve tested it?”

  “Yes, we have. All day today we worked with it. We even borrowed a pistol and some cartridges. After the spell was cast, the Seekers could not find the cartridges and we could still load and fire the pistol using them.”


  Krasner relaxed and leaned back in his seat. “Thank the gods!” he whispered. “And thank all of you, too,” he added in a louder voice.

  “You are welcome,” said Idira. “We are happy we could help.”

  “Excuse me, my lady,” said Lieutenant Prinz. “How long will it take for you to safeguard the army’s powder supply?” It was one of the few times that Prinz had spoken since he had appeared as Krasner’s aide some weeks earlier.

  “Oh, well, I’m not really sure,” said Idira.

  “We just perfected the spell, you have to realize,” said Hesseran. “But as a rough guess, I’d say each of us could probably treat three or four pounds of powder a day—we have to work with small batches, you understand. Lyni probably more. So, say a dozen pounds a day for the three of us. If we still have two months as you hope, then we could probably have, what? Seven or eight hundred pounds treated. That will be enough, won’t it?”

  Krasner’s face had gone white. “Seven or eight hundred pounds?” he choked.

  “Yes, quite a lot, isn’t it?” chuckled Hesseran. “Make quite a bang if that all went off at once!”

  “Master Hesseran, Mistress Idira,” said Krasner gravely, “I don’t want to deride your accomplishment, but you are badly out of your reckoning. We are going to have at least fifty-thousand infantry in the army. They will use up eight hundred pounds of gunpowder with one volley! That doesn’t even consider the artillery! You are going to have to do better—a lot better—than that!”

  “Oh dear,” said Hesseran.

  “We’ll do our best, Colonel,” said Lyni, “But there are limits to our strength.”

  “They’ve been working themselves to death as it is,” said Jarren angrily. “You can’t ask the impossible of them!”

  Krasner was visibly struggling to hold his temper. After a moment, he was in control of himself. “All right, all right. Do what you can. We may end up with a core of the army that has guns and powder and the rest with spears and bows. If we do, so be it. We’re still far better off than we were a few months ago.”