by Ryk E. Spoor
“Well, we were really only introduced to one,” Tobimar said. “What was the name...? Patina, that was it.”
“Name? Introduced?” Wieran snorted. “Names I suppose are convenient labels, but do not make the mistake of thinking that because they move and can speak that they are anything but mindless mechanisms. Which unit was this?”
“Number Fifty-Seven of Murnitenzei,” Hiriista said.
“Ah, I remember that one. I was experimenting with ceramic variants for covering. Very hard, durable, and with the right admixtures not overly frangible. A satisfactory design, but while possessing much ornamental utility did not meet the desire for more human-looking servants. Now this,” he pointed to the skinlike material, “is a far superior covering. Go ahead, touch it.”
Poplock bounced down and did so as the others took advantage of the invitation. “That’s artificial? It feels like real skin!”
“Indeed it is artificial! My own creation, a combination of distilled saps, a touch of naptha, proper application of heat, and just the right alchemical treatment which yields a substance that will feel just like natural skin, breathes like natural skin for certain purposes, is waterproof, much tougher than any ordinary skin, and with the right materials and mystical energy infusing the entire creation can repair itself like skin.”
“I’m more interested in the skeleton,” Poplock said, perching on an elevated tool tray above the table.
“The armature,” Wieran corrected with a bit of impatience, “is the central support as well as the channel for the mystical forces that motivate the entire Eternal Servant.”
Poplock squinted; along the silvery-glinting steel he thought he saw faint traces of gold-tinted blue-green. “Thyrium, I see.”
For just an instant he was sure he saw a narrowing of the ebony eyes, the sort that signaled a realization that one was more dangerous than suspected. Oh, drought. I shouldn’t have said anything.
But the expression—if it was there—had disappeared even as he thought that. “An excellent eye, Poplock Duckweed. Am I correct, then, in assuming you are a student of arcane works?”
Mudbubbles! Okay, I guess I’ll have to just recover as much as I can. “Well, I dabble a bit. Do clockwork stuff and I’ve fiddled around with alchemy. Really, I just noticed the similar lines here to the ones on Phoenix’s armor.”
“Hm. Well, yes, you are correct. Thyrium is not common but it takes very little, properly applied, to provide an excellent channel for all sorts of mystical forces.” He went on to describe how this allowed him to provide the mystical force for operating the Eternal Servant in one location but have it available throughout the device.
“If you don’t mind,” Tobimar said at a pause in the description, “I’m curious about what you said about the Servants being purely mechanisms. I can see they’re mechanisms, yes, but Patina spoke as if...it, I guess...was as intelligent as any ordinary person, and I’ve seen them performing a vast number of tasks. Some, like street-sweeping, might not be very hard to imagine being able to automate, I guess, but repairing stonework or cooking meals? These are complex tasks requiring judgment. I’ve heard of some magicians who have summoned or bound spirits to do such routine work, but those are still very much individuals, thinking beings, even if they’re not as bright as the average human being. So how are you achieving this effect without what I think of as the cause, so to speak?”
Wieran studied Tobimar for a moment, then smiled again. “A penetrating question which deserves a good answer,” he said finally.
I’m not sure I liked that smile. But was there really anything wrong with it, or is it just that I started out suspicious of him? I hate this kind of silt-clouded groping around.
Weiran led them to another part of the lab, this one with a tremendously complex mystical circle inscribed in it. Poplock studied the curving ranks of symbols and found himself, unwillingly, awed by what he saw. I can’t even begin to figure out everything that circle does. It’s maybe the most intricate piece of magical design I’ve ever seen; makes the summoning circles for old Voory look like something a bird scratched in the dirt.
Wieran was speaking. “During the development of the Eternal Servants, I had to address precisely this problem. It is of course immoral to have living intelligent beings performing your drudgery without recompense or choice, yet if an insensate construct is to do so, there must be some means to give it the capability to perform many tasks while not giving it sentience.
“Thus, the Learning Array!” he gestured grandly to the circle. “Only someone of my genius—of which there are no equals!—could have devised this solution to that seemingly insoluble problem. Here, and in similar arrays, I brought skilled individuals of all the key trades. The Learning Array impresses the entirety of their actions into these crystals here,” he pointed to a matrix of crystalline discs which appeared to have been cut from huge gemstones. “I would present them with different challenges for their procedures—a missing piece of pipe for a plumber, a deficient or spoiled ingredient for a cook, and so on—and by varying these parameters the Array was able to distill the task’s essence into a performance matrix—a matrix which I could then impress into all of the Eternal Servants.
“The matrices can be updated by the users or periodically by myself or my assistants, if and when desired,” Wieran went on. “For example, as we have mentioned cooking, a few years ago certain dishes emerged and became popular around Kaizatenzei; I had one of the best chefs of this particular cuisine come here and extend the envelope of the cooking performance matrix, allowing me to revise the matrix on the existing Servants who were used for cooking duties.”
He tapped a crystal on a low railing that surrounded the Learning Array. “Here, allow me to demonstrate. Master Tobimar, would you assist me?”
Poplock cursed inwardly. There was no good way to say “no” at this point, not with their displayed interest and avowed lack of suspicion of those in the higher echelons of power.
Tobimar tried, though. “Um...is it safe? My people are very nervous about magic applied to—”
“Safe?” Wieran looked scandalized—though to Poplock’s eye the expression was a bit overdone. “I tested it first on myself, and many citizens—including Miri and Hiriista, both of whom are here—have been in this Array. I should think it is safe!”
“What was he recording on you?” Kyri asked. “That is...you aren’t doing menial tasks, right?”
Miri laughed. “Oh, no, no. The Learning Array’s useful for so much more than that. Remember you were asking if you could get one of the summoning crystals or a farcaller stone? Well, this is where you can get one, and the Learning Array helps with that!”
Mud, mud, MUD and DROUGHT. Stuck with our own earlier words.
“Well...all right.” Tobimar took a breath and stepped in. “Does it...well, how does it feel when it’s working?”
“It should not feel like anything,” Wieran said, a touch of exasperation in his voice. “The whole point is to record the normal performance of someone’s duty, or the normal signature of their essence, in the case of the crystals. If it felt odd, or painful, it could interfere with the data. Now...none of the Eternal Servants have ever been created with combat knowledge. If you could do a few simple combat moves, I can record those and give you a demonstration.”
Poplock had hopped off onto Kyri’s shoulder. He watched, trying to keep his face looking interested and carefree rather than grim, as Tobimar ran through a number of basic combat poses with his swords. The little Toad was pleased to note that Tobimar was sticking to poses not terribly unusual and certainly not connected with his Tor martial art.
After a few minutes, Wieran nodded. “Excellent. That will be sufficient for a demonstration.” He went to the matrix of crystal disks and inserted a small, multicolored crystal into a slot below. A moment later he took it out and brought it over to what was apparently a completed Eternal Servant. “Expansion of directives,” he said. “Provide access.”
The Eternal Servant bowed and then a panel in the chest opened; this Servant had skin that looked more like pebbly leather but was otherwise much more human-looking than Patina had been, so Poplock found it a bit disquieting to see a piece of its chest just pop out. Wieran reached out, inserted the crystal into something within the Servant’s chest, waited a few moments, and then pulled the crystal back out.
“Now,” he said, stepping back, “demonstrate your recent directive expansion.”
The Servant paused. “I do not have the requisite tools.”
Wieran nodded proudly. “You see! It recognizes that it is missing a key element of the task, yet refers to that element as ‘tools,’ not connecting it with anything else.” From a workbench nearby—an enchanting bench, for making weapons I guess—Wieran took two swords. “Use these.”
The Eternal Servant took the swords and moved its arms as though weighing them. “These are not identical; some loss in efficiency will result.”
“Acceptable. Proceed.”
Instantly the Eternal Servant ran through the exact set of exercises that Tobimar had, duplicating his gestures precisely. Well, that’s impressive.
“As you can see, right now it is extremely limited; there is no context showing the Servant that this is meant for use against an adversary; there is nothing to demonstrate the need to vary the approach, timing, and other aspects. To actually train a Servant to be a warrior would require two or more people in the Array, then tuning it to ignore all but the exemplar, and then a number of varied battle scenarios to generate a sufficiently flexible and defined envelope of operations. But I think it serves the purpose, yes?”
“Sure does,” Poplock said. The question I’ve got is what purpose it served for you. He was also not entirely convinced that this would work to cover all the varied circumstances that such an automaton would encounter...but then, they hadn’t followed any of the Eternal Servants around for any length of time; possibly they had routines to ask someone when they met some new situation.
“Kyri, why don’t you get a pattern made for you?” Miri said brightly. “Then you could have a summoning crystal and give it to me or Tobimar. Or maybe we could get you a farcaller, and you and Tobimar could speak even when apart.”
“Well, I don’t want to impose—”
“It is no imposition,” Wieran said. “In fact, I insist. Visitors of such unique nature and importance should be given the special attention they deserve. It will take only a few moments. Making the crystals will take somewhat longer, but that will not require your presence.”
Poplock transferred back to Tobimar as Kyri entered the Array. Our clever plan of acting like we had no suspicions kinda blew back in our faces. I’d really like to think there’s nothing else going on here, but I wouldn’t bet a single fly-wing on it. He noted that Hiriista had not supported the idea or encouraged them to get involved, which was about as close as the mazakh magewright could probably get to telling them it was a bad idea.
“What about you, Poplock?” asked Miri, as Kyri stepped back out of the Array, finished with whatever it was that made the “pattern” for their crystals. “We could—”
“I am afraid not,” Wieran said reluctantly, and Poplock was sure there was, in fact, real regret in those words. “I have tuned the Array for all of the types of beings known in Kaizatenzei, but an Intelligent Toad is something completely different. While the spiritual parameters will of course be similar, they will almost certainly not be identical, and the physical ones are highly divergent. I would require some weeks to perform the needed adjustments.”
“Well, that’s disappointing,” Poplock said. “Having one of those crystals would be really neat. Maybe later, if we both get the time.”
“I would very much like that. But I understand you have more pressing matters to attend to in the next weeks.” He straightened from checking the matrix of crystal discs. “Well, allow me to show you a few more projects which should be of interest.”
Poplock gave a tiny sigh of relief. At least one of us won’t be recorded or analyzed by whatever that is.
I hope one will be enough.
Chapter 38
“Oh, Light, I hope people won’t think this is all I do,” Miri said, as she held up one of the blades and examined it.
Kyri felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you down—”
“Drag? No, no. It’s just that sometimes I think all I do is be ‘Miri, Light of Kaizatenzei,’ fighting things, tracking down problems, choosing new weapons so I can go out and track down more problems and fight more things.”
“I think the people around here...and in the other cities, for that matter...see a lot more than that in you,” Kyri said. “I haven’t seen a single person who didn’t smile when they saw you, not a single town we visited where the whole place didn’t...well, light up when you arrived.”
That amazingly delicate pale complexion looked even more perfect when touched with a blush of red. “Oh, Phoenix, I’m...”
“...just doing your job, yes.” Kyri laughed suddenly and looked down at the axe she’d been studying. “You sound just like me, you know. Like what everyone told me I sounded like.”
The realization sank in, and for a moment she remembered—as clearly as if she were there—the fitted-stone streets of Evanwyl, the heads lifting and the smiles suddenly bursting out as she was seen, and she knew that what other people had told her was true. For a moment she was so homesick that her heart ached, but at the same time she suddenly understood Miri so very well. “Really. And I think it’s just as true about you as I know now that it was about me.”
Miri’s wide blue-green eyes stared into hers, wide-eyed, and abruptly dropped away, the blush even more emphatic for a moment. “Well...maybe you’re right. I try to make it so that people look forward to my visits.” She shook herself. “All right, we’re a lot alike, right? Except that I’m so tiny and you’re so tall and beautiful like Shae. I wish I was like that.”
Kyri felt herself blushing, but hoped that her own much darker skin hid it. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re absolutely perfect. I wish I looked half as good.”
“Can I tell you that you’re being ridiculous?”
The two of them shared a laugh. “All right, look,” said Kyri, “if you don’t want to just look like we’re grim warriors without any other interests—”
“Then you just keep doing what you’re doing, Phoenix and Light Miri!” said Grithu, the weaponsmith who owned the shop. “A less grim and more fair pair of warriors I have yet to lay eyes upon.”
“I think it’s really the ‘warrior’ bit we were worrying over,” Miri said. “But it may be that I’m just silly. Are you actually getting anything here?”
“Probably not,” admitted Kyri.
“Alas, I would think not as well,” Grithu said, tucking a strand of brown hair back under the band of cloth that kept it tied back while he worked. “I thank you for the privilege of examining your sword, Phoenix, and I confess that I cannot imagine you ever needing another weapon. If this and your armor is typical of the work of this Spiritsmith, I can but stand in awe and dream that I might one day be a tenth, no, a hundredth of the smith that he is.”
Kyri laughed. “Thank you, Grithu. You’re very good, you know; if you live as long as he has, you may well gain the same skill.”
“Practice does perfect one, yes,” Grithu agreed, then bowed and waved as they left.
“Well, I like my new fighting knives, even if I mostly don’t use weapons,” Miri said, spinning them expertly about in a complex flow of cuts. “But I’m hungry. I wouldn’t expect Tobimar and Poplock to be back down for a bit, so why don’t we get something to eat?”
“I certainly don’t mind,” Kyri said. She felt a bit left out at the moment, but tried not to show it.
But once they’d seated themselves at a table in the open-air dining square, Miri caught her gaze. “He should have let you come.”
Kyri looked down. “
Am I that easy to read?”
“As Hiriista would say, it’s a matter of observation. You were suddenly a lot more quiet after I mentioned Tobimar, and you kept glancing back at the Tower whenever you thought I wasn’t looking. It’s obvious you’re thinking about him.”
“I guess it is.” She took a bite of the ourta (a thick steak cut from a large fish in the lake, heavily seasoned) and swallowed. “He didn’t stop me from coming. It’s not like he has the authority to do that even if he wanted to, right?”
“He made it clear he wanted to ascend to the Great Light himself. Yet he took the Toad.” Miri’s lips tightened, and Kyri realized she was actually angry at Tobimar.
That realization suddenly relaxed the tension in Kyri’s stomach. Impulsively she grabbed Miri’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, Miri.”
“For what?”
“Being angry for me, so I could see whether that was what I wanted to feel.”
“And...is it?”
She shook her head. “No. No, I don’t think so. You didn’t hear our discussion before, but...if we’re right, what’s at the top of that tower is the most holy relic not just of your country, but of his—of his own religion, of Terian, the Light in the Darkness, the Infinite, himself. Climbing that tower’s a pilgrimage for him, I think.”
“But he took Poplock with him.” The tone was still resentful, defending her against the wrongdoings of her friend, and Kyri laughed.
“Oh, Miri, it’s okay.”
Miri looked up, surprised. “But—”
“Really. Oh, I love Tobimar. And he loves me, to my astonishment. But Poplock and Tobimar traveled a lot longer together, and I think in some ways they’ll always be a lot closer than he and I will. Poplock’s able to be there without being...intrusive, when he wants to be. Hard for me to just fade into the background.” I’m not going to mention the fact that he’s also there just in case there’s a trap waiting.
Miri looked at her wonderingly for so long that Kyri felt her cheeks heating up again. “You really mean that,” she said finally. “You were annoyed but now you’re not.”
