Mobius

by Garon Whited

  “Any last words?”

  “May your rebirth be ignoble.”

  “That’s the best you can do? You waste your last breath on a curse when you’re dying for no good reason?”

  I attacked at human speeds. This didn’t call for a shift into hyperdrive. He took it on his shield—with a clang. It was merely enchanted to be tough, not with a repulsion field. He counterattacked and darn near lost his sword in the infinite blackness. This ruined his timing and his balance. He gave a cry and staggered, but Firebrand’s backstroke was already coming in. He raised his shield to meet Firebrand with the edge, but Firebrand cut into it nearly a foot, far enough to ring his helmet like a bell. This staggered him. I swept his sword out of line and targeted the center of his shield with a two-handed thrust. He took the bait and leaned into his shield, but Firebrand went through it and his arm. He screamed and cut at me, but I wrenched at Firebrand, throwing my adversary off-balance. I jerked Firebrand free and traded a few passes with the warrior. He should have practiced techniques against a disarm. He thrust at me and I circled his blade, tight, and thrust once, myself. His blade spun to the ground as Firebrand’s point penetrated his shield, breastplate, and maybe two inches of flesh.

  There was a sudden gush of light and smoke through all the openings of his breastplate. He didn’t scream. He fell with a clang.

  Meanwhile, with four attackers, the taller one was not faring well. Whoever he attacked went full defensive and absorbed the blows with sword and shield. Even attacking as quickly as possible, he couldn’t occupy more than two at a time. The others pecked at him, seeking joints and gaps. Now and then, a thrust would get through. He was already bleeding from a couple of penetrating wounds. As I watched, he parried one blow, took another on his shield, but the third—the third was a thrust to his thigh. The point met the armor and slid up, under the tasset, and went home beneath the fauld. He aarghed appropriately and bled some more.

  When his friend went down, thud!, he realized he was vulnerable to the rear, as well. He spun and cut at me, desperately, so I parried and stepped forward, corps-à-corps, locking blades with him—and did nothing. We got into the traditional shoving match over crossed blades. It was not to his advantage. Three out of the other four blades found openings in shoulder, hip, and knee. He screamed and all the fight went out of him as he collapsed. Slim swords then found his armpit, neck, the open face of his helmet.

  My guards stood there for a moment, panting at the exertion. I understood the feeling perfectly, but there were things to do to avoid unpleasant questions.

  “Go get the cart,” I ordered. “We’re taking the bodies with us.”

  “We are?”

  “Heads on spikes beside the road might deter others. We’ll start a collection.”

  Velina looked dubious, but the rest immediately moved to obey.

  I, meanwhile, made sure to soak up all the blood. It’s not easy to see in the shadows of moonlight, but I don’t like taking chances. I also started the process of sucking up souls from anyone who wasn’t quite dead yet. The First are generally well-educated. My language skills improved drastically, as well as my grasp of the do’s and don’ts of the culture. I still don’t understand why something is proper or not, but I have a better chance of knowing which way to jump.

  We loaded the meat and metal onto the cart.

  “Where do we ride?” Velina wanted to know. I considered it. They could ride on top, but the cart might not take all the weight. Instead, I gestured at the waiting horses.

  “It’ll be slower than a ride in the cart—” I began.

  “We’ll take care of it, sir,” Velina interrupted. “You can count on it.”

  “I get the impression you don’t like riding in the cart.”

  “Not one damn bit, sir.”

  “Fair enough, fair enough,” I chuckled. “We’ll go together for another mile or so, just in case, but I don’t think anyone escaped the ambush. If there’s anyone else along the road, I’ll find out for you.”

  “I wouldn’t mind riding second, sir.”

  “Worried about me?”

  “It’s my assignment, sir.”

  “What about the youngsters?”

  “None of ’em are mine, sir.”

  “Well… all right. Leisel will be mad at me if I don’t have at least one of you along.”

  Velina rode with me while the other three took the mundane horses. I wondered if the kids could ride, but realized, if not, they would learn quickly. Bronze towed the cart so it wouldn’t slow them down. It did slow us down a bit, but without anyone alive in it, we could press on much more quickly. Corpses don’t mind a bumpy ride. We didn’t stop until we reached the new fence at the bridge.

  Our sentry post is now a guard station. They’ve stacked rocks to form a wall at the edge of the ravine. The wooden barrier blocks the bridge, but it’s easy enough to move. Maybe we should consider a drawbridge and some towers. With the only practical way in being over the bridge, it’s a good spot for a real fortification. Besides, I hear there’s a vendetta on.

  They let us through and our next stop was the village.

  I let Velina handle the salvage and disposal. I went into my tower, down into the dungeon, and laid my armor out on the floor. I considered it, touched up the repairs, and got out the chalk.

  This was clearly overdue.

  Tauta, 15th Day of Milaskir

  Ten people for dinner and a night to myself in a high-magic environment? Armor enchantments complete. There’s an over-powered repair spell embedded in it, now. It’s constantly trying to pull everything into the proper place and shape, even down to the molecular level. Not only does it repair the armor, it literally helps hold it together, making it harder and stronger. I also copied the repulsion spell on Tobar’s shield. I duplicated the effect and spent a while fiddling with it, figuring out how to clean it up. His version was clearly done in a “messy bits” fashion, but I’ve seen a working example. I revised and—in my opinion—improved it. It’s not on the armor, itself, but on the scales and fibers in the joints. If someone’s aiming at my neck, I’d rather have the blow or bullet nudged aside to hit a rigid piece, instead. It’s not perfect—nothing ever is—but I think it’s a material improvement.

  All things considered, I think I did good work. I probably could have done better if I knew what the hell the armor was made of, but… darn it, Diogenes kept making new suits! I don’t even know what the clear stuff in my faceplate is. For all I know, it’s transparent aluminum—or maybe used to be, two or three or ten model numbers ago! Almost every time I left, when I came back, there was an upgrade! How was I supposed to keep up? That’s why I never bothered to enchant the things!

  I also spent some time and energy on my underwear, upgrading it. The over-powered variant of a repair spell seemed a good idea on it, as well. Not just for the protective qualities, but because it helps keep the molecular structure intact. Both sets of armor will be harder to affect on a chemical level—they’re more resistant to burning. Come to that, they’re more resistant to melting, but if I have to worry about my armor melting, I have bigger things to worry about.

  My saber seems to be in good order again. The enchantment drew power for quite a while, pulling the metal back into shape, but it’s settled down. I let Firebrand heat it up to encourage the movement of atoms, which may have helped. I think everything is back to normal on the personal equipment front. I may have to explore some of the messy-bits enchantments around here. Clearly, they’ve developed their weapon and armor upgrades to a fine art.

  Leisel left me alone all night, much to my surprise. On the other hand, she was waiting outside my shower stall when I emerged. My startled reaction was amusing to her.

  You could have told me she was there! I chided.

  And miss the opportunity to watch you fall over yourself trying to duck back inside? Firebrand asked. Not a chance, Boss. Besides, it’s daytime. You look human. Human-ish.

  Thanks bunches.r />
  I shot Bronze a look. Bronze tossed her head and chuffed hot air at me, amused. I silently admitted it was funny, from their perspective. The joke’s on me, I guess. Okay. I’m tough. I can take a little humor at my expense—from them, at least. It did make me think about new shower arrangements, though. At first, I wanted a private, sun-proof shower. Now… now it’s a potential ambush point. Technically, it always has been. I should have stopped using it the moment I had a relatively private room in the village.

  On the plus side, I’m alive. This pretty much guarantees no one is actively trying to assassinate me at present. If I’m going to go off somewhere once or twice a day to be vulnerable, I’m a target. Yet, no one has mustered up an attempt on my life. Ergo, no one is trying to kill me, personally. Or, to be fair, no one has figured out how to drop in enough troops to make the attempt worthwhile. Maybe they can’t teleport a dozen people at once. Maybe they don’t have enough thugs willing to attack a man in the shower. Maybe their wizards aren’t comfortable with it. I don’t know how they think. I only know I’m lucky not to find my shower stall on fire while I’m in it.

  How many times have I survived being an idiot simply by dumb luck? But I do so prefer to stand under the waterfall while I’m sweating goo.

  How hard will it be to get running water in the tower?

  “Good morning,” Leisel offered, along with my underwear. I snapped my fingers and was dry. I dressed while we talked.

  “I have got to learn that,” she remarked.

  “It’s actually not a hard spell. Feels a little weird, though.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  “There’s a tugging feeling as it draws the water away. It also tries to pull your skin off. It’s not strong enough to do it, but—did you see what happened to my hair?”

  “It all stood up for a second. The spell?”

  “Yes. It’s peculiar, but a mild sensation. It’s still strange.”

  “I really want to learn.”

  “We’ll start lessons when we we’re alone. Is that what you came out here for?”

  “No. Messengers from Sarcana arrived while you were out. They brought the formal vendetta declaration. I found someone with good penmanship. We’re drafting the reply.”

  “Oh? What’s it say?”

  “The usual. We reject their terms, they’re all doomed, and so on.”

  “You make it sound routine.”

  “This is just the first exchange of letters. We haven’t got to the part where we negotiate. You’ll want to read their demands, I imagine, before we settle on a counteroffer.”

  “In the meantime, people keep trying to kidnap or kill Renata? And anyone in their way?”

  “It’s a vendetta. If she’s the reason for the vendetta, it’s allowed.”

  “I see. What do they want?”

  “Renata, a hundred shirak in gold, and a public apology at the Hall of Ruling for the murder of Palan, manzhani of House Sarcana.” She shook her head. “They know you can’t do the last one. The apology would be a confession to murder.”

  I bundled my armor together and lashed it behind the saddle. I didn’t feel like it, today. Besides, it was nice out.

  “What would happen if I simply gave them everything they asked for?”

  “They would have no choice but to accept.”

  “But they wouldn’t have time to cause a lot of ruckus and disturbance out here, either. And anything happening after I paid them off, they would be on the hook for.”

  “True, but their demands include a confession you murdered Palan, not killed him in a warriors’ dispute. Do you plan to?”

  “Not even close. No, I think I’ll make them a counteroffer.”

  “May one ask?”

  I mounted. Leisel grabbed the rear of the saddle and swung up behind me. It’s an impressive feat and both Bronze and I were.

  “I plan to give them what they really want,” I told her.

  “Do you know what they really want?”

  “I think so.”

  “And if you’re wrong?”

  “I hope I’m not,” I admitted, “because I’m severely tempted to go kill them all.”

  Back at the tower, I set up on the top floor again—the new top floor, since the tower is still growing—and made it my workroom. Leisel had a brief conversation with some of my personal guard and followed me up to help move my stuff. I think she didn’t want anyone else asking questions about why I had wizardly weirdness on hand.

  The top two floors are still a bit cramped, vertically, but they’re getting taller. I don’t have to duck, but I keep feeling as though I should.

  With scrying mirror engaged and a bit of persistence, I probed the scrying defenses of the Sarcana estate in Sarashda. The barrier around the place was a good one, apparently solid from the outside, but there were openings, deliberate ones, leading like narrow tunnels into the building. These converged on a single room with a couple of crystal balls and a mirror. Clearly, communication between mirrors was available, so I did the equivalent of ringing theirs.

  A wizard—the same wizard who came to visit us, Kellogg or something—entered the room after a minute or two. No, I remember. His name was Kellonol. He regarded the mirror and breathed on it, fogging it instantly. He waved a silken sleeve over it, completing the activation.

  Our scrying spells interlocked and I looked out of his mirror as he looked out of mine.

  “Good morning,” I began, but his face went white, his eyes went round, and his hands flashed up, crossing and snapping apart, severing the link. The image fell away and I regarded my daytime reflection.

  “Well, that was odd,” Leisel murmured.

  “You think?” I grumbled and fired up the scrying spell again. It didn’t want to connect. I had to fiddle with it a bit, forcing it to accept an incoming call. Eventually, it flickered to life. The Sarcana scrying chamber was still occupied. Kellonol was busily talking to someone in a crystal ball. Judging by the outfit, I’d guess it was another wizard—one not employed by the House. His colors and patterns were nothing like Kellonol’s. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Maybe one of the wizards I bought back the sigil from? Probably.

  “It called me on the mirror!” he snapped back, obviously irate at something the other person said. “It knows!”

  “It can’t know,” came the reply. “At most, it might have suspected. But now? After you’ve panicked? This is your fault, and your problem.”

  “Actually,” I interrupted, speaking through the other mirror, “I just want to be left alone. I called to discuss negotiations with House Sarcana, but I’m prepared to discuss negotiations with all of you, too.”

  The two of them screamed “Ahh!” together. The one in the crystal ball hung up. The other gestured to sever my connection again.

  “Rude,” I observed.

  “I agree,” Leisel offered. “What now?”

  “It’s hard to negotiate if they won’t even talk. On the other hand, if they understood what I said, it’s possible they’ll try to call back.”

  “Should I have someone sit by the mirror?”

  “No, it isn’t set up properly.” I sighed. “It’s only a spell, not an enchantment, and not at all user-friendly. I’ll set it up, but I’ll have to work on it for most of the morning, I think.”

  “If you say so. Velina tells me the others are bringing in some horses?”

  “Yes. There’s also a collection of bodies and armor in the cart, if no one has done anything with them. Did she mention those?”

  “Only the heads and spikes. Where do you want them?”

  “Form a line along the road, starting at the far end of the bridge and pacing away. Let people see them as they approach. It might be a deterrent.”

  “Possibly. Can I divide up the armor?”

  “Divide it up?”

  “The equipment we got from the kidnappers all fits someone, more or less. This is hard armor, so some pieces will always fit someone. We can divide up b
racers, greaves, possibly a gorget, a pixane if they have them—those sorts of things.”

  “Sure. We’ll build an armory to store miscellaneous parts. And we do need to hire a wizard. Not all the enchantments will work together in a mix-and-match set. We may also need a good excuse, since my current wizard is never seen in public.”

  “I’ll send some scouts to various cities. There are other occupations we could stand to recruit, too.”

  “Thank you. What else do we need to do?”

  “I’ve been told some barbarians have been seen along our western border, climbing around on the mountains and exploring the waterfalls downstream. I think they’re looking for a good way to come in for a full raid.”

  “I’ll look into it after I finish enchanting a mirror,” I sighed.

  “Save some of your strength for the evening, please.”

  “Oh?”

  Leisel squeezed me for a moment and relaxed against me.

  “Oh. Of course.” I squeezed her in return and she let me get to work. She’s a practical woman.

  The mirror was the start. It was fairly simple, but other thoughts occurred to me. How do the local wizards communicate with each other? Do they have dedicated mirrors for these things? The look I got into the Sarcana estate’s scrying room implied it. The room had deliberate communications channels and more than one scrying device. Did they link different Sarcana estates? Did they have dedicated connections to allied great Houses? I didn’t get a close enough look.

  Which raised the question of how anyone could call us. Is there a protocol for exchanging mirrors? Do I enchant a pair of them—or, rather, have “my wizard” enchant them—and send one to whoever I want to talk to? Or do I wait for someone to scry in our direction and re-route it to my mirror? I know I can do that, but what’s the protocol? What’s the etiquette? Is there an equivalent to a phone number, or a radio frequency? Or do the House symbols have something to do with it? I did see Sarcana’s abstract design on the stands holding the crystal balls. It might have been built into the mirror, too. Do I need a House symbol people can recognize so they can call me?