The Apprentice Stone (Shadows of Time Book 1)

by Darrell Newton

  Uncle Bernat’s steel glare melted. He looked down.

  La Grande picked up a sword, and with arms rock hard and quick as a hammer strike, she thrust it at him. The tip stopped just under his nose. She held it steady as if it were in the hands of a statue. “I know naught of this boy, but I know an arrogant, bastard-murderer when I see ‘im. Now, off with you and your idle boast.”

  He took a step back, but checked himself. He cocked his head to one side and a sly smile crept across his cheek. “No woman—”

  She leapt across the counter, as lithe as a deer, despite her heft. Uncle Bernat finally had enough sense to dart from the smithy like a rabbit from a fox. He tripped on the threshold, landed hard, hopped up, and ran with a limp.

  Francisco came out from behind the partition, around the counter, and wrapped his arms around La Grande. He hadn’t hugged a woman since his mother died.

  “Well now,” she said. “It’s a good thing you ran away from the likes of him. And I think you’ll be owing me some free labor.”

  Francisco recovered himself. “Anything. You name it.”

  She laughed. “Whatever Mateo doesn’t want to do.”

  With a smug smile, Mateo pointed to the ingots.

  Chapter 6

  Miyuki

  Sittiri Academe, Neubawni

  Sittiri Date 5198-102

  PROFESSOR MACADAM cleared his throat and said, “The Field Agent Final Exam, like most of your training in the past year, is in a simulated environment. Your score will tell us if you will be a recruiter, a grunt, a mech-shock-trooper, or a rift specialist.” He spoke the ever-difficult “r” sounds with rolling ease in a thick accent.

  In the beginning of the school year, Miyuki didn’t trust the professor. She had mistaken his over-reaching familiarity as insincerity—a salesman’s tool of manipulation. Over the past few months, she warmed to him and considered him like a father. Whenever he clarified a point, he shook his hands before him and his full, rusty-brown beard bounced. A stout man, he stood a full head taller than anyone in the classroom, but he never used his size as a tool of intimidation.

  He started pacing between the two rows of plexus beds, which were used to create the simulated environment. They weren’t for sleeping. In truth, Miyuki felt exhausted in mind and body after using one. They were narrow, padded boards extending from the walls about waist high and adjusted to fit the contours of a student’s body. Miyuki rubbed her hand over the cool, transparent surface. It glowed and shimmered from underneath in rippling waves as if sunlight shone through seawater and with an iridescence that reminded her of an abalone shell. She looked around the room. Half the beds were empty. Of the sixteen cadets who started the class a year ago, only eight had made it to the placement exams. The studious Yusuf from the Almoravid Empire was now studying history. Stana from Novgorod was in medicine. The others were in the arts, sciences, or general logistics. No one at the Academe or in Neubawni8 handled the servant’s work. That was done by thinking machines of all shapes and sizes—the bots. If I fail, Miyuki thought, then at least I won’t be scrubbing floors.

  Professor MacAdam cleared his throat and spoke with his hands. “I know you’ve all heard the rumors about how we’ve taken the safeties off the plexus beds for this test so you can feel pain in the simulation. The rumors are true.”

  “What?” Elizabeth asked. She was a ginger-haired, freckle-faced girl from islands far to the west of Nippon. “We could die?”

  “That rumor is false. You’ve used the plexus beds all year long to train with your bio-implants and to learn at an accelerated rate. Some of you have died in the simulations, but you woke up fine, did you not? You did not truly die. Yes, the simulated environment feels real, but it is not.”

  The professor stopped pacing and held his hands behind his back. “For those of you who slept through this past year, permit me to repeat the rules. We have split the class into two groups. Two of you will be randomly selected to act as Sittiri recruiters, and the remaining six will be Key’ari infiltrators. The Key’ari have one hour to capture or kill the recruit, but they don’t know what the recruit looks like. The Sittiri might be able to guess because they will be given an Ox Shalay prophecy. The Sittiri have one hour to interpret the prophecy, find the recruit, and protect him from the Key’ari until the hour is over. As in the real world, the Sittiri are outnumbered and will be given a technological advantage. They will have the Ox Shalay prophecy, a handful of recorders, and a simulated onyo. Each team will be given stun-sticks and two verisuits.9 There will be no restrictions on their forms. You can use the verisuits to change your appearance into anything you want, including invisibility, and you can use your favorite stun-stick shape.”

  Miyuki smiled. Ah, stun-sticks: finally, something I can use.

  Everyone looked over at Nitish. Hearing their snickers, he threw up his hands in protest.

  “Cadet Nitish,” Professor MacAdam said, “I would suggest this time that you program your stun-stick to take the shape of something like the weapon of the period, which would be a double-edged, straight short sword, and not a beautiful young woman. You failed the last exam because you caused a rift.”10

  Nitish raised his index finger. “In my defense, the Key’ari did kiss the stun-stick-woman and passed out.”

  “No rifts. And remember, this is as close to a field experience as we can get. In a real recruiting operation, our treaties with the Key’ari prevent us from killing each other, but the recruit can die.”

  “So, if I get to play a Key’ari,” Nitish said, “I have to kill the recruit? Isn’t that a little brutal?”

  “Capture or kill. This is only a simulation. No one truly dies, but in the real world the Key’ari have killed to prevent us from getting a recruit. They would rather turn our recruit so that he joins them, but if he won’t turn, they will kill him.”

  Lowanna, the dark-skinned girl from the Southern Isles with a broad smile asked, “If I get to be a Sittiri, how will my onyo work in the simulation?”

  “Your onyo will not work,” Professor MacAdam explained. “The onyo implant,” he tapped his forehead, “only senses real time rifts. This exam is simulated. No rifts are created. So instead, you will be given a visual warning if your actions are about to create a rift. A bar graph will appear that grows with the severity of the simulated rift.”

  “Appear?” Lowanna asked.

  “Your oc-loks—your ocular locking implants,” he tapped his forehead next to his right eye, “will project the image directly onto your retina, along with other data. As for scoring, you will be judged based upon your performance. For the Sittiri, I will deduct points if you disrupt the timeline and create a rift. Any other questions? No? Very well. The test will begin once everyone has locked into their plexus beds.”

  The cadets lay down face up and with arms extended along their legs. Miyuki lay down and closed her eyes. She felt her palms; they were damp. She focused on breathing slowly to calm her nerves. She had such a hard time over the last year adjusting to the new culture, and she feared that since the requirements for a field agent were broad and her skills were narrow, she would probably fail.

  Miyuki felt herself slip into the dream, the sign that her mind locked into the training bed. She heard the Sittiri anthem and saw the Academe’s emblem with its motto under it: duty, loyalty, service, valor, integrity, and courage. The image faded and her oc-lok display appeared over darkness as if she were reading glowing letters and symbols inscribed on the wall of a dark room. The display showed readouts for time, temperature, humidity, current mission status, distance to objects, and information on objects such as material composition and density. A new readout labeled “Rift Indicator” showed a zero for strength of rift incursion. Under the mission status it read “Field Agent Final Exam” and beneath that it read “Role: Sittiri.”

  Ah! So, I am a Sittiri. She relished the challenge of being outnumbered. Unconsciously, her simulated hand slipped to her side and she felt the stun-stick’s
hilt. The oc-lok display remained, but the darkness behind it was replaced by a pastoral scene. She found herself standing on one of many grassy hills with stone outcroppings. A flock of sheep grazed on the hill next to her with a young shepherd. At the bottom of the hills was a modest village next to a wooden fort surrounded by a moat.

  “It’s so peaceful,” she said.

  “At least it’s not the Himalayas this time.” Miyuki turned to see Su-Laras standing next to her. “That was freezing.”

  “So, you’re my partner?” Miyuki said.

  “I don’t believe the selection was random,” Su-Laras said. “Come. We better change our verisuits or we’ll create a rift before we start.” Miyuki looked down. The metallic suit in its natural form covered her from hood to boots. It breathed and stretched with hardly any resistance so that when she had put it on the first time, she was embarrassed to go out in public. She felt naked. It didn’t show anything but her face, but she felt like nothing was there.

  “Ah! Why did they not start us out in native clothes?” Miyuki asked. The suit was made of vericloth that allowed the wearer to change appearance or choose invisibility with a thought, but she needed to think of the right image. Other than the shepherd, she had no idea what these people wore. The verisuit was linked to her cerebral implants. All she needed to do was look at someone else, lock the image into the suit mentally, and tell it to transform. “What should we look like?” Miyuki asked.

  “The natives, of course.”

  Miyuki nodded toward a bolder that jutted up from the slope. “Behind there, so the shepherd doesn’t see us.” When they ducked behind the boulder, Miyuki reached into a slot in her verisuit and pulled out two dormant beetles. The surveillance devices looked like common, dark brown beetles the size of the fingernail on her small finger, which she kept trimmed short. “Only two?” she asked. “They only gave me two recorders.”

  Su-Laras fished two out of her pocket. “Two. That should be enough. We’re only going to be here one hour.”

  Miyuki checked her oc-lok display. It showed fifty-seven minutes and a few seconds. She had such a hard time activating the implants without thinking in pictures. She closed her eyes and thought of the courier her father had used, who was a thin, old man with a quick smile and a quicker step. He had the odd habit of twirling the stick he carried with the word “messenger” written along a white slip of paper attached to the stick. The image was a key thought for her that activated one of the recorders. One recorder beetle flew off toward the village. She slipped the other recorder back into her pocket. Her oc-lok displayed what the recorder saw in her left eye. Her right eye saw normal vision. She looked over at Su-Laras, who had just released both of her own recorders. “Why are you wasting both your recorders?” Miyuki snapped. “I already sent one!”

  “Efficient use of resources and time. While you look for native garments, I’m going to look for someone who matches the Ox Shalay. I sent one recorder to the village and the other to the fortress, and they’ll both come back once they’re done.”

  Miyuki bowed. “Ah, please pardon my rash judgment.”

  “Please stop begging for forgiveness. It’s annoying.”

  Miyuki felt her face flush. “Have you even read the prophecy?”

  “No. You can read it to me as soon as you get us something to wear.”

  Using the image from her recorder, Miyuki found three young women in what looked like a marketplace who appeared to be about twenty years old. Miyuki didn’t need to find someone her age, but she thought it would be easier to fit the role if she did. “Here,” she said. “I am transferring you the image.”

  Su-Laras nodded. “Good choice.”

  Miyuki thought of her verisuit and the image of the girls. Her suit appeared to melt and shimmer. It turned red with brown stripes before it solidified into a long skirt. The torso portion of the verisuit had drooped and changed into a white blouse with a brown, sleeveless vest. She put her hand up and felt a scarf covering her head. The hilt of the stun-stick dangled from her belt in the form of a diminutive bag. The material for the stick was inside the hilt and would extend upon thought command into one of several preformed shapes. The hilt was covered in vericloth and followed the camouflage command with the rest of the suit.

  Su-Laras’ skirt and blouse matched Miyuki’s with a black vest and a black scarf with a flower pattern. She looked just like one of the girls in the market, except for Su-Laras’ Asian features.

  “I don’t think there is anyone from our lands here,” Miyuki said. “We should change our faces.”

  Su-Laras closed her eyes and her face changed to match one of the girls.

  “Would a different face be better?” Miyuki asked.

  “You mean like one of the other girls?”

  “Field Guide rule 26 c.: ‘Unless there is a good reason to mimic a specific native, it is best to choose a form that blends several that have been observed.’”

  Su-Laras smirked. “You memorized the rules?”

  “The great Angelo Tenishi-san wrote the rules, and he knows from—”

  “Yes, and we all know he was your recruiter.” Su-Laras shut her eyes and her facial bone structure widened at the cheeks and her hairline raised slightly. The verisuit’s light-bending ability extended far enough to cover her face. “Read me the prophecy. It’s already eight minutes into the test.”

  Miyuki brought the Ox Shalay prophecy up on her oc-lok display and was about to read it aloud, when she remembered another rule. Through the wireless link, she cast her thought to Su-Laras, We should also use our link instead of talking. I won’t tell you the rule number.

  Thank you, Su-Laras cast.

  The prophecy reads,

  A guard by day and night

  On hills and valleys deep

  With one eye, he watches

  All the little ones

  Even while they sleep.

  A guard, Su-Laras cast. I don’t see any in the city, and there appear to be six … no, seven guards in the fortress, at least right now. From the fortress, they should be able to see both the valley and the hills.

  With one eye—

  Shh. Su-Laras sat with both eyes closed. I’m already checking their eyes.

  Miyuki ordered her recorder to fly from the village to the fortress. I’m sending one recorder in to check with you.

  Su-Laras shook her head. They all have two eyes.

  Ah, but you are not an archer. I am, and most archers close an eye when they aim. Do you see any archers?

  Yes, Su-Laras cast. One on the east side near the corner, do you see him? Let me mark him.

  One of the guards on the east side lit up with a green glow projected by her oc-lok. I see him.

  Su-Laras stood up and brushed herself off. I’m going in.

  Already? Miyuki asked. We haven’t seen their patterns yet: what he does, who he trusts. Rule number—

  I don’t care about the rules. I trust my own eyes more than a recorder.

  They’ll see you.

  I’ll use stealth. Su-Laras shimmered and vanished.

  No, Miyuki cast. You will be visible to the enemy if they have oc-loks. I can see an outline of your body.

  Su-Laras switched back into the image of the village girl. She started walking towards the fortress and cast, You can stay here and watch with bug eyes if you want. Scan for Key’ari Avar-Tek.11 I’m going in.

  Less than forty-eight minutes left. Miyuki ordered her first recorder to follow Su-Laras, and then she shut her eyes to watch and pray.

  Miyuki’s recorder flew behind Su-Laras as she walked into the fortress, found the stairs to the battlements and boldly walked up them.

  A guard stopped her and asked, “Who are you?” Miyuki wasn’t sure what language the guard spoke, but her linguist bio-implant translated his words for her. No sooner had he said the words than Miyuki’s rift indicator flashed and showed a twenty out of one hundred. She cast to Su-Laras, Rift! Whatever you are doing is creating a rift.
/>   Su-Laras stammered.

  The guard snickered, “Ah, it is Roberto you want, isn’t it? Wait ‘til evening. You’ll get the scoundrel in trouble if the commander catches you in here.” The guard escorted her out through the fortress gate. The rift threat abated.

  Su-Laras walked out and cast, Miyuki.

  Miyuki didn’t answer.

  Another guard approached Su-Laras. He was an older man with hard, careworn eyes.

  Su-Laras tried moving to the side to let him pass, but he walked right up to her. Su-Laras lowered her head and said, “Begging your pardon, sir, I was just leaving.”

  The older guard said, “No need to explain, Su-Laras.”

  Su-Laras swept one foot back in a fighting stance and grabbed for her stun-stick. Key’ari! she cast.

  No, Miyuki cast. It’s me.

  Su-Laras dropped her hand and tilted her head, peering at the old guard. Miyuki? she cast.

  Yes. I watched their patterns and noted how their commander mistreated them. The commander left and headed for the market.

  Is that what he looks like?

  Yes. Change your appearance to the commander’s aide. Together we can protect the recruit from Key’ari attack. It is a good defensible position. If the Key’ari are not already in the fortress, then they can only come in by the gate.

  A few minutes later, Miyuki and Su-Laras stood on the battlements, trying to blend in and hoping the real commander wouldn’t return before the hour’s end. Miyuki saw their target, the archer, glance over at her. He was short, with thin lips that moved with a nearly constant mutter. He tried keeping his glance low and to the side so his commander wouldn’t notice. A shiver ran up Miyuki’s spine. All the guards gave her sidelong looks, and whispered to each other while looking at her.

  She grimaced. I must pass this test, she thought to herself. There is no room for a female samurai in administration. She cast to Su-Laras, This isn’t working. We aren’t matching their expected patterns. What if the real commander shows up? There will be a major rift.