Reality's Plaything 4: Savants Ascendant

by Will Greenway

  The mecha female rolled her eyes. “The warrior types are very protective of us squishies.”

  Sarai raised an eyebrow, and her mother glanced back.

  “Squishies?” she asked.

  Wysteri’s mouth quirked into a smile. “Squishy. You know—soft, easily damaged.” She held out her hand. “I am not made out of metal like they are.”

  “Why is that?” Bannor asked. “I met some combat medical frames and they were quite burly and really well armed.”

  Wysteri shrugged. “The key word is combat. They provide emergency care in forward areas where soldiers are under fire. While they can treat patients, you could hardly call any of their work delicate.” She tilted her head and gazed at Sarai. “I am a caregiver.”

  “You know,” Janai said. “I was thinking that Nomar’s concern was a little more personal…” She let her voice trail off as if troubled by her conclusions.

  The medical mecha pushed out her lip. “It is a new environment… and we just escaped enslavement… Concern is understandable, yes?”

  “Right,” Janai responded with a roll of her eyes.

  Ryelle twiddled her fingers together turning them back and forth. “He is quite large and you are…” Her brow furrowed.

  Wysteri shot a frown at her. “We are just friends.”

  “Ouch,” Bannor pressed his hand over his heart.

  “My One?” Sarai looked up at him concerned. “What?”

  He sighed. “Nothing, just an empathy pang. Poor sod.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nevermind.” If that wasn’t a sign of them being living creatures, Bannor didn’t know what was.

  They went down the hall in silence. Wysteri gazed at every piece of art, tapestry, and coat of arm with obvious fascination. She ran her hand along the stone, touching fabrics, ceramics and weapons.

  They turned a corner and started down the stairs to the second level.

  “You find this interesting?” T’Evagduran asked Wysteri.

  “Indeed,” she answered. “Long ago the Karanganoi were under the mistaken impression that non-technical cultures could not be evolved. I suppose it took being over-run by such a culture to learn the error of that thinking.” She sighed. “The Baronians are barbaric, but in that barbarism is a purity of focus, an enviable determination and spirit. It is something the Kriar lack. It is why Karanganoi Homeworld remains in their hands.”

  “Because they aren’t as vicious as the Baronians?” Kalindinai asked. She glanced back to Luthice and Senalloy. “No offense.”

  Senalloy shrugged. “None taken, we are vicious.”

  Wysteri frowned. “Viciousness does not win wars—courage does. The Kriar had been bullies so long they’d forgotten how to strive. When pressed, instead of meeting the challenge, most gave up. We were weak. We deserve the fate that took us.”

  “You include yourself?” Kalindinai asked. “It doesn’t sound like you gave up.”

  “When a society fails, all its members are culpable, not just its leadership. After all, does not the populace choose its leaders?”

  The King and Queen looked at one another. To them that was probably a refreshing point of view. After all, much of the maneuvering plaguing them of late was due to how they, not anyone else, were responsible for events that happened within Malan’s borders.

  “Sometimes, the people don’t choose their leaders…” Janai said in wistful tone.

  “If an entity or group seizes power, again it is the failure of society to nurture harmony,” Wysteri remarked. “In a society such as yours, there may not be enough resources to provide equally for all. Thus, stratification of haves and have-nots is inevitable; especially given a variation in each person’s levels of ingenuity, ambition and drive. The Kriar have had no such limits on their resources for hundreds of eons.” She looked to Bannor. “You have been to Fabrista Homeworld, yes?”

  He nodded. “I found it strange, parks, cities, entire worlds that were empty. The one Kriar we went to see had an entire world to herself.”

  Wysteri nodded. “Exactly. Unlimited resources, unlimited space, everyone has everything they need. Artifices provide all the menial labor. Each Kriar can dedicate their lives to the pursuit of personal and spiritual gratification.”

  They stopped at a side-hall and Kalindinai fished around in a pocket for a jewel that she placed in the recess in the middle of the door. The large wooden valve unlocked with a clank.

  Wysteri watched this process with unblinking gold eyes. She seemed fascinated by everything.

  They stepped across the threshold. Kalindinai gestured and magelights illuminated a stairwell leading down. Bannor had not seen this place, but then much of Kul’Amaron was still new to him.

  “So,” King T’Evagduran said, his voice echoing in the tighter confines of the passage as they proceeded down. “Let me see if I understand where you are going with this. Without strife they became complacent.”

  “Yes,” Wysteri said. “Our people were wise enough to recognize that intellectual and physical stagnation would set in, so social programs and schooling were put in place. Still, there is a difference between academic exercise…”

  “And actual fitness through real hardship,” the King finished. He reached the bottom landing and looked up as Wysteri came down. “Interesting. Still, that begs the question why your—subnet—would want to live here.”

  Wysteri stopped at the bottom and looked up at the tall pale-haired King. “Here there are people who need us. On Fabrista Homeworld, they have as many frames as they want. They have no need of more, especially a misfit subnet that had the ingenuity to run away.” She tilted her head. “Besides, I served Kriar for eons. I have been a slave to Baronians as long as I care to. This place is different—intriguing—and there is opportunity for challenges.”

  “I see,” the King said with a nod. He gestured everyone ahead of him.

  Through an archway was a large chamber. It was obvious from the pallets and shelves of various herbs that it was a private infirmary. On one side were two stone slabs probably used for actual treatment. There were racks of tools and implements obviously intended for surgery.

  Wysteri glanced around running her hand along the crystal containers of herbs, and leaning close to look at the various blades and cutting tools.

  She put her hands behind her back and peered around with an expectant expression.

  The Queen glanced at the mecha, took Sarai’s arm and lead her to a pallet and pushed her down.

  The hardened wood let out a startling creak. Bannor grabbed Sarai’s hand and pulled her back up before the wood gave.

  Kalindinai growled. “Damn, sorry Mimi, I forget about the weight. I guess over here.” She pointed to the stone operating table.

  With a sigh Sarai arranged herself on the edge of the table, it took effort because of the wings.

  Kalindinai touched the rainbow feathers. “However do those valkyries lie back?”

  “Perhaps if you would allow me?” Wysteri said.

  The Queen frowned at her and nodded.

  She stepped in front of Sarai. “Arminwen, your name?”

  “Sarai.”

  “Sarai, I want you to cross your arms over your chest with your fingers on your shoulders.” She demonstrated.

  Sarai complied.

  “Now,” the mecha intoned. “Clear your mind.”

  Sarai closed her eyes and let out a breath.

  “Don’t be alarmed I’m going to touch your forehead, I’m going to put a picture in your mind. When you see the picture, focus on that image and repeat it in your thoughts.”

  Sarai nodded.

  Wysteri reached out and a pressed her finger above the bridge of Sarai’s nose.

  His fiancé tilted her head as if whatever she saw confused her. Her brow furrowed. With a crackle and a shower of sparks, Sarai’s rainbow-colored wings shimmered and faded out.

  She jerked and opened her eyes. “Whoa. How did I do that?”

  “Your bod
y naturally has that ability,” Wysteri said. “Commander Megan said you were unfamiliar with this shape.” She brushed at her purple hair and glanced back at Kalindinai. “Help with controlling all of a form’s natural capabilities is typical service physicians provide for those who like to joy-form.”

  “Joy-form?” Kalindinai said.

  “Kriar can live for eons,” Wysteri explained. “They get bored with the shapes they were born with. So, a common pastime is to get various form changes. Gender changing is the most common. The older they get, the more extreme the morphisms they tend to experiment with.” She shrugged and gestured to Bannor. “His body is an example of a custom design done by a class seven or higher physician. I could even tell you their name by reading the signature in his microstructure.”

  King T’Evagduran massaged his throat and eyed purple haired mecha. “I am glad we’ve had this opportunity to talk Wysteri. You have provided a great deal of insight into a large number of things.”

  She bowed to him.

  Kalindinai glanced sidelong at her husband. She concentrated on Sarai. “Well, since we don’t have to worry about the wings, we can get this armor off so I can look at you?”

  Bannor rubbed Sarai’s thigh, and then stepped over with her father to honor her modesty. He noticed Senalloy and Luthice stood by the entrance to the room, apparently involved in a silent conversation.

  Wysteri stepped back and observed as Kalindinai, Ryelle, and Janai helped Sarai remove the chain-mail armor and various plating that were part of a valkyrie’s ‘uniform’.

  When Sarai was stripped down to only a silken slip, the three Elven ladies started examining her.

  “Here,” Ryelle said touching Sarai’s back. “Carellion, Sarai, you didn’t feel this?”

  Janai leaned back and her brow furrowed. “Aie.”

  Sarai twisted instinctively trying to see but obviously unable. “I felt nothing. I feel fine.”

  Kalindinai frowned fingering a couple locations on Sarai’s side and spine. She looked back to the armor. “Apparently, her skin was tougher than these links. They’re mashed flat.”

  The mecha blinked. Even though she was in front of Sarai, her expression was as though she were seeing the wounds. “Redistribution and compression of the subcutaneous kinetic flesh armor indicate three impact zones,” Wysteri paused. “Bladed weapons across the left scapula, sixth rib, and middle lumbar. The underlying bone filament endostructure distributed the majority of the force. Micro displacements of bone have taken place and there is some bruising of the left kidney. Nominal regeneration of all hard and soft tissue damage will naturally occur within two to three bells.”

  “You can tell all that standing over there?” Janai asked.

  Wysteri’s brow furrowed. “I am a class two physician. It’s what I do.”

  Sarai rubbed at her back. “I could have sworn nothing touched me. There are marks back there?”

  “Trust me, Sister,” Janai said. “Judging from these welts, without that shaladen and that body, I’m thinking those hits would have cut you in half.”

  “Given typical Elven anatomy, three shattered bones and incidental organ damage,” Wysteri determined. “Without immediate emergency treatment, shock and blood loss would have resulted in death in a tenth of a bell.”

  Bannor felt his heart skip a beat. His gaze met Sarai’s across the room. She looked bewildered. She had been in that much danger and didn’t even know it.

  “Well, if she can tell all that without even seeing Sarai’s back, I’m convinced she knows what she’s talking about,” Ryelle said.

  “Yes,” Kalindinai said. “So, about the baby?”

  “That means I pass?” Wysteri asked with a raised eyebrow.

  The Queen frowned. “Yes. Please examine her.”

  The King put his hands behind his back. “Impressive.”

  Wysteri came forward. “Arminwen, if you would please lay back. Please pardon that I must touch you.”

  Sarai nodded and did as the physician requested.

  The purple haired mecha pushed a hand up under Sarai’s slip. She closed her eyes and stood motionless for a long breath. The Queen and Sarai’s sisters watched her intently.

  Wysteri opened her eyes, and pursed her lips. “The unborn is very sturdy, and despite the knocking around and deprivation remains within nominal health parameters. She is, however, at the extreme the lower edge of what is acceptable in terms of healthy development.”

  Sarai sat up and stared at the female mecha with wide green eyes. “What does that mean?”

  “It means, no more getting hit in battles, for one thing,” Kalindinai snapped. “I swear child. What were you thinking?”

  “Mother,” Sarai said with a roll of her eyes. “I had more than a dozen Kriar, Shael Dal, and valkyries around me. The battle was in front of me the whole time. I have no idea how I got hit in the back.”

  “Three times,” Ryelle added. “Sister are you sure you were not facing the wrong direction?”

  Sarai growled. “Yesss.”

  Wysteri held up a hand. “There is no lasting harm. Malnutrition has done the unborn more damage than the battle.” She frowned. She glanced at the King and Queen. “Arminwen, these are your hereditary parents, yes?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Correct.”

  “You obviously did not conceive in your natural form or this one.”

  “Yes.”

  The mecha pressed her fingers together and her brow furrowed. “Have you given thought to the child birthing process and nursing?” She asked. “This baby will weigh more than a stone at birth.”

  “A stone?” Kalindinai coughed.

  Sarai clutched her abdomen. “You jest.”

  “That’s minimum healthy weight actually,” Wysteri remarked, tilting her head. “For optimal postnatal development of a fetus of this type a birth weight of a stone and a half is recommended.”

  “No way,” Janai gasped with wide eyes. “Sarai will explode!”

  “Recall,” Wysteri said. “The tissue of the baby in question is approximately three and half times as dense as average elf flesh and blood.”

  “Oh,” Janai said with a sheepish tone. “I was envisioning…” She defined a large round space with her arms.

  “All told she’ll put on nearly three stone of baby and fluid,” Kalindinai shook her head. “This is a mess.”

  “I won’t be able to move,” Sarai breathed with wide eyes.

  “She can’t bring this baby to term in her hereditary body, can she?” Kalindinai said.

  Wysteri winced. “Is she approximately your height and weight?”

  Kalindinai frowned. “Hereditarily—shorter, slimmer—a little taller than Janai. Because of an incident—she’s since worn a much bigger body—a little more than 17 hands and six stone.”

  The mecha shook her head. “There would be an unacceptable risk of complications. Twenty-five percent birth/body weight ratio is healthy. Fifty percent could be potentially harmful.” She pressed her lips together. “And certainly not comfortable. She would end up confined to bed.” She leaned forward to Sarai and put a hand on her shoulder and looked with her toward Bannor. She pointed to one of his arms. “See those muscles? Imagine when she weighs a stone and starts kicking.”

  Sarai hugged herself. “Okay, all right, I get it. Ow.”

  Kalindinai massaged the bridge of her nose. “So, I am almost afraid to hear this. What do you recommend?”

  Wysteri drew a breath. She looked sidelong at Sarai. “She needs to settle on one body. No more joy-forming. I recommend a good pre-natal customized body to carry her through the rest of the pregnancy.”

  “This is her body we’re talking about, not a set of clothes. We can’t just pick a color and style and put it on her.”

  The physician looked confused. “Then how did she get in that body?”

  “Well, it’s a copy of someone else. An eternal did it for her as a disguise and to help her with the pregnancy.”

  “
Matradomma,” Bannor said. “The Felspars have a physician like Wysteri. I bet she could do this body thing that Wysteri is talking about.”

  “Really?” Kalindinai said.

  Wysteri focused on Bannor. “A physician like me? Do you know what class she was?”

  He shrugged and shook his head.

  “A class fourteen,” Senalloy said looking up from her conversation with Luthice.

  Wysteri turned to Senalloy. “Fabrista Homeworld is letting elites wander around?”

  The silver-haired Baronian shrugged.

  “Well, you don’t need to go to that other physician,” Wysteri said. “I can perform the optimization for you.”

  “You can?”

  “Yes, I simply need the equipment is all.” The mecha female pushed a hand through her purple hair. “Of course, I am considered only a class two because I do not have all the tools available to me.”

  “How can we get you those tools?” T’Evagduran asked.

  Wysteri smiled. “Introduce me to this other physician. She can help me get them.”

  “Maybe she can,” Sarai growled. “Her mistress is a witch.” She turned to her mother. “We saw Bronawyn Shadowstalker at a local tavern, she’s married to one of the Felspar boys. I’m not sure how, but the Felspar physician apparently belongs to her.”

  “Shadowstalker? Xenos’ daughter?” Kalindinai asked. At Sarai’s nod the Queen shook her head. “That’s interesting. Is she as arrogant as her father?”

  “Worse,” Sarai growled. “I was ready to slap the little trollop sideways.”

  “Senalloy and Eclipse had to intervene to prevent blows from being struck,” Bannor said. “Bronawyn hit me as rather mercenary, but her husband Caldorian was a good enough fellow, and the physician, Mercedes, was quite helpful.”

  “Mother, just ask Cassandra,” Ryelle said. “Let’s not deal with the little snot.”

  “Snot?” Kalindinai said.

  “I met her a few times while we were negotiating in that debacle with Corwin and the Drakmourn mercenaries,” Ryelle answered. “She has all the diplomacy of a slitherbelly. I found her extremely irritating.”

  “Sister,” Janai stepped back with hands on hips and looked at her as if she didn’t recognize her. “Someone irritated—you?” She licked her lips. “Now, I simply must meet this wretch.”