The King's Craft (The Petralist Book 6)

by Frank Morin

  She did appreciate her authority to mold the city and the focus of their work even more than before. Her time was full with so many responsibilities that she’d been forced to promote more well-deserving people and delegate ownership of some of her projects to them. Bruno’s appointment to oversee manufacturing was one, as was Artur’s appointment over the city construction. Lady Carolin oversaw most of the social and educational aspects of the city, and was preparing plans for a wonderful new theater and arts center.

  Danhildur, the lead Althing scientist, now served as acting head of the Schwinkendorf Academy, which was still growing fast. Scientists, researchers, and academics from every realm were pouring in, eager to participate in the academy, which was already recognized as an important center of learning.

  They were all extremely capable, and Jean trusted their decisions completely, but she still felt a slight sense of loss that she hadn’t figured out how to utilize her time efficiently enough to still participate in every aspect of all of those efforts. She loved hearing their daily reports, but already felt more removed from the actual day to day work of her beloved teams.

  Worrying for Hamish and Connor was not productive, so she rose and headed for the exit, humming softly to keep her summoned arm swinging correctly. She had already grown so used to the summoned limb that she didn’t have to think about the notes she needed, and it responded so smoothly, she could almost forget that she’d lost an arm. Bruno’s leg brace reinforced her weak leg wonderfully. In fact, some days grew so busy she was sometimes tempted to ask him for another brace for the other leg so she could keep up with herself.

  Gisela fell into step beside her, carrying the leather tome of Jean’s daily schedule and updates from every team. So much of their current effort was focused on churning out mechanicals and weapons, but not every aspect of her life was consumed by the threat of war.

  “You are due to meet with the Builder teams in one hour,” Gisela reminded her.

  “Let’s stop by the hospital on the way,” Jean said. She collected a small bag containing her healing herbs and draped the strap over her shoulder. It was warm enough that she didn’t need a jacket over her blue dress.

  “Stopping at the hospital usually makes you late.”

  “I’ll be quick,” Jean promised.

  Gisela wasn’t fooled, but knew better than to try convincing her to skip the hospital. Together they left the opulent palace and headed down the main thoroughfare toward the wonderful new hospital just three blocks away.

  The streets were crowded with people, from military officers to workers to researchers to housewives, with children running around everyone. Most people walked, while some rode horses or drove wagons. Striders rushed past, using special lanes marked in the middle of the streets that allowed them to move fast while minimizing the risk of colliding with other pedestrians.

  Everyone knew her, and many of them waved or bowed. She greeted them all warmly and knew most of their names. She only wished she had more time to ask them how they were doing. New Schwinkendorf was bustling and alive, despite how their numbers were depleted after the departure of the army. To Jean the city pulsed with its own spirit, like a lifeblood of vibrant energy that enlivened her. She loved being a part of it, and still scarce believed she’d been entrusted with its governance.

  The hospital was actually a group of buildings, packed within a low fence around an entire city block. The main treatment areas were located in the large, three story central building. The entire top floor was one huge, airy room with lots of windows, all open to let in the warm spring air. A dozen healthbeds clustered on one end of the room, while observation beds marched down either wall.

  There were not many patients at the moment, but Jean still found old Healer Karlmann making the rounds. He was immensely old and frail, but his blue eyes still glowed with enthusiasm. A score of other doctors and assistants trailed him. They did most of the work while he observed or took the hand of each patient, asking about their health in that comforting voice of his.

  When he spotted Jean, he rose from the side of a mature woman who had fallen down a flight of steps. She looked bruised, but nothing a little time on a healthbed wouldn’t cure.

  Jean gently hugged the kindly old Healer. “How are your patients?”

  “Most of them are recovering well. I hear there is need for healers in Merkland.”

  She wasn’t surprised he’d already heard. He might be old, but his mind was sharp, and he had a way of knowing what was going on. “I think we have enough people available. We shouldn’t need to pull any of your staff.”

  “We are willing to go, if needed,” He assured her, then winked. “But I am grateful we may not need to interrupt our work so soon. We seem to make new discoveries every day.”

  Together they headed toward the wide stairs leading to the lower levels. The second floor held offices for staff, while the first floor was used for surgery and treating serious trauma.

  Karlmann led the growing team of Healers and medical staff researching diseases, particularly infection. Using the latest generation of the near-vision goggles Hamish and one of his teams had developed, they could peer deep into tiny secrets of the little molecules that made up the basic building blocks of life.

  An entire score of Althing scientists had recently arrived, excited to participate in those efforts. Jean hoped they would uncover secrets to battling infection and other diseases that resisted Healers. That understanding could lead to medicines that could save thousands of lives every year.

  Even more exciting, secretly she hoped one day to discover the physiological effects that resulted from powerful Petralist affinities. Why was it that some Petralists could defy aging and live for centuries? If they could identify the changes those affinities gifted to those special individuals, could they figure out how to replicate those benefits? Perhaps the Builders could produce a mechanical to similarly slow aging. The possibility thrilled her.

  When they reached the second floor, Karlmann gestured toward his office, located at the end of the wide hallway. “I would like to share my most recent notes.”

  She wanted nothing more than to spend half a day poring over that research with him. She was still more a healer than nobility, but she sighed. “Perhaps tomorrow. I want to visit the long-term residents before my next meeting.”

  “Tomorrow then,” he said.

  Feeling refreshed by even that short visit, Jean led Gisela to one of the other buildings in the compound. It was long and low, built of honey-colored wood, with a friendly feel. Inside lived several patients recovering from terrible wounds that had left them paralyzed or crippled. Most people liked to pretend wars didn’t produce so many victims of lost limbs, lost eyes, broken hearing, or other handicaps.

  With the help of Rafford and Render Flight she was trying to build semi-autonomous summonings to assist. Unfortunately, with Ilse gone the work had slowed. Still, the team had made tremendous progress and Rafford was working hard to apply the techniques he’d learned from Ilse.

  So far they had built a dozen summoned arms, although none of them included the sophisticated sound-controlled movements of Jean’s. At least one patient possessed the vocal range to possibly succeed like Jean, so the upgrade was planned for the following week. For the others, they were exploring related concepts to improve mobility, and she expected many marvelous breakthroughs in the coming months.

  They had produced eight summoned legs with varying levels of success. When Ilse returned, Jean hoped to work with her to explore ways to reproduce the miraculous summoning she’d crafted for herself that allowed her to walk and move, despite her crushed spine and paralyzed legs.

  She spent twenty minutes visiting the patients, encouraging them, and listening to their enthusiastic reports of progress made with the summoned limbs. Even though none of them had resumed full mobility yet, they were optimistic about the future.

  Eventually Gisela made a discrete gesture toward the door. They were already late
for her next meeting. As the lady governess of New Schwinkendorf, Jean could skip a meeting if she chose, but that would result in extra work for her people, so she didn’t like letting them down.

  So she reluctantly excused herself. As they headed across the campus she said, “Almost ready. One more stop to make.”

  “I can reschedule,” Gisela offered, but Jean shook her head and gestured toward another cottage nearby.

  “I just want to check in on Nicklaus.”

  50

  You Can’t Walk through a Closed Door

  Hamish pushed the Hawk to its limits and they tore through the air, fleeing the dread queen. Beside Connor, Kilian looked outwardly calm, but he spotted little telltale signs that even he was nervous. For his part, Connor couldn’t help constantly glancing behind them. He kept imagining the queen rising into the air to chase them down. He sensed nothing, but could he really penetrate her shielding?

  Student Eighteen had remained in stunned silence for the past several minutes, tears dripping down her cheeks. Connor didn’t blame her. He struggled to process what they had just witnessed. Somehow the queen had unleashed unprecedented destruction upon Jagdish. He doubted he’d ever forget the sight of the city shattering, bodies blasted to pieces, and the mountain collapsing over everything in the biggest mass grave in all of history.

  He felt a chill of dread thinking of all the people. Had the citizens of Jagdish survived the implosion of the mountains in those shielded caverns, or had they all collapsed too?

  He was amazed the queen had not yet attacked them in the Hawk. No doubt she could reach far with her elemental powers, farther than he could, and make their life difficult. Why hadn’t she?

  Hamish was flying fast, and the Hawk could outrace even many air currents. Air seemed nervous when Connor reached out to her, but she did not flee his mind. With her help, he identified a strong wind at a slightly lower elevation, and guided Hamish down to it to increase their speed.

  Eventually Student Eighteen sniffled loudly and wiped her nose. Her eyes were red, but her expression determined. “We have to go back.”

  “Not today,” Kilian said calmly.

  “She’s weak. You saw her,” she insisted.

  Hamish glanced over from the controls. “She saw us. She would know we were coming. We wouldn’t last long enough to get within a mile of her, let alone within striking range.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “We’re lucky she hasn’t attacked already,” Connor said.

  Student Eighteen shook her head. “That she hasn’t proves she’s weakened. So she sensed us? Does that mean she could still fight us? You saw her. She looked exhausted. Perhaps she frightened us away only because she is too weak to fight us.”

  Kilian looked unfazed. “Or she was trying to lure us into attacking so she didn’t have to chase us halfway across the continent.”

  “If she wanted to draw us in, why look at us?” Student Eighteen asked.

  It was a good point, but the only way of knowing was to go back and see who was right. If they got it wrong, they would all die. If they got it right, some of them might live. Then Connor remembered something. “Hey, doesn’t she think we’re dead?”

  They all exchanged surprised looks and Hamish said, “Well, she thinks at least some of the Builders are dead, but she’ll know some of us survived now that she’s seen the Hawk.”

  “She thinks you’re dead or captured,” Student Eighteen said to Connor.

  “So who did she think was in the Hawk?” Kilian asked.

  Hamish said, “We had shielding up, so I doubt she could reliably scan us, and with the angle of our approach, I doubt she could have seen us in the windows.”

  “What does that change?” Kilian asked.

  “I don’t know,” Connor admitted. “Maybe that’s why she didn’t attack us. Maybe she figured we were just random Builders.”

  “Random Builders who just happened to be flying to Jagdish?” Student Eighteen asked.

  Connor shrugged. “We could turn around and go ask her.”

  “Not funny,” Hamish said with a shiver.

  Kilian said, “We can’t risk turning back, not yet.”

  “We do need to risk it, though,” Connor said, even though all he wanted to do was keep running as fast and as far as possible.

  “Connor . . .” Kilian started, but Connor cut him off.

  “Mister One sent a final message.”

  Student Eighteen looked shocked. She’d been so distraught she hadn’t even noticed the message. Connor explained. “He only got part of it out before he died.”

  She leaned back in her chair, fresh tears in her eyes, and couldn’t suppress a sob. Her features shivered and tough Tresta took over. Her voice became rougher. “We need to avenge her people.”

  Connor wondered if the other ladies were all gathered in their common mental space, comforting Student Eighteen as she mourned the loss of her leader and her people. He’d been almost overwhelmed by the sight of Merkland swarmed and the knowledge that he almost lost Verena and so many of their friends. What must it feel like to witness the total destruction of your home?

  He said, “In the message, he said that the treasure I needed was with someone. It sounded like somehow he thought they could still help us.”

  Kilian blew out a breath and glanced back the way they’d come. “If she does attack us, we’d be in serious trouble. We have to learn how she struck Jagdish like that. Not even I understand and that worries me.”

  “I need to ascend, and whatever Mister One left for me might be vital in making that happen,” Connor reminded him.

  “We have to go back, find out if anyone survived,” Tresta insisted. “What if they’re trapped under that rubble?”

  That was a scary thought. Connor realized that if the kill squads out on the plain had been identified and killed by the queen too, and if the people hiding under the mountain had died, Student Eighteen might now be only one of very few living Mhortair. Sure, there were small groups scattered around the rest of the continent, but all together how many could there be?

  “Slow down, Hamish,” Kilian said after a moment. “Take up a circular flight path at high elevation. If we can verify my mother has left the area, we’ll make an attempt to land tonight after dark.”

  “Thank you,” Tresta said.

  Connor felt it was the right decision, but as Hamish slowed, gently banked to the left, and began climbing, his tension rose. Would the queen really leave, or was she hiding somewhere, waiting to attack?

  He leaned forward, calling upon his elemental affinities again to scan for any sign of the queen. He also tapped serpentinite. His connection with it had faded as they fled from the disaster. He couldn’t afford to get distracted like that. Any sounds the queen made might be the one clue he’d get before she attacked.

  He felt nothing from serpentinite.

  Frowning, Connor tried again, focusing on the little stone, but still felt nothing. He pulled it out of his pocket, just to make sure it had not broken or wasted away when he was not paying attention. Holding it in his hand, he felt power in it, but somehow could not reach it.

  He looked to Tresta. “Has Student Eighteen used serpentinite lately?”

  She shook her head. “Not since the queen destroyed Jagdish. The blast was so overwhelming, it felt like she nearly burned out our serpentinite eyes.”

  Connor nodded. “I felt that way too, but now I can’t get anything.”

  That drew Hamish’s and Kilian’s attention. They watched curiously as Student Eighteen resumed the control position and tried to connect to serpentinite too. After a moment her brows furrowed and she said, “I can’t either. I sense power in the stone, but somehow I’m locked out from the sounds.”

  “Do you know what’s going on?” Connor asked Kilian.

  He shook his head. “I’ve never heard of affinities getting blocked, not to multiple people at the same time. Individuals can have an affinity sundered under certai
n circumstances, but this is different.”

  Hamish asked, “Is serpentinite somehow tied to Jagdish?”

  “Are you asking if the destruction of our home and the collapse of the mountains would somehow affect our affinities, I would have said definitely not,” Student Eighteen said. “But at the moment, I have no explanation.”

  Hamish said, “We never had much serpentinite, so we never did much with it as Builders. I was hoping to see if we could combine it with quartzite speakstones and one of those diamond recording crystals of yours to see if we could record messages we receive via speakstone, but I haven’t had the chance.”

  Connor handed him the piece of serpentinite. “See if you can release any of it.”

  Hamish took it and concentrated over it. “I feel power for sure, but it’s like the crack I usually pry open to release a stone’s power has been welded shut.”

  Connor took the stone back. “Can she do that? Can she seal us away from our affinities?”

  Just saying the words terrified him. Their Petralist powers were the key to their hope of meeting the queen in battle. If she could sunder their affinities, she would have no need to fear anything.

  Aifric shook her head. “If she could do that, why hasn’t she done it before? She could have marched into Merkland and Granadure with no resistance and taken everyone.”

  Kilian said, “No, I suspect this is something new.”

  Hamish asked, “But is it new to the queen too?”

  The thought that the queen might have discovered a way to break their affinities terrified Connor. The thought that she had stumbled upon that truth by accident seemed even scarier, and very offensive. She was already more powerful than any of them. It was so unfair to think she might accidentally discover a higher order of power just when they were hoping to catch up.