Mobius

by Garon Whited

  Tauta, 20th Day of Milaskir

  I spent the rest of the night hauling stones down from my someday-would-be-mines. The tower is nice, but it occurs to me if even one of the local wizards has perfected the art of walking through walls, there really isn’t anything between a wizard and my recovered prisoners. It’s time to start expanding. I find myself needing more rooms—one of which needs to house a better cistern for water and another which needs to be a bathroom. I probably need a barracks for the guards currently in my employ—something better than the long log cabin they use. An interior space for a messhall, a kitchen, a stable, possibly even a smithy, an armory… the list goes on and on.

  The stones didn’t get stacked into rooms. All Bronze and I managed were the trips to transport and dump them. Laying them out and building with them would be immensely quicker. It’s not like we’re actually doing masonry, where we cut stones to fit, mix mortar, align them precisely, tap them into place, and carefully lay precise courses for a foundation before building a fresh course on top. With the spells on the tower making it grow, it’s more like building with Legos.

  I have to ask Leisel and Hazir if there are any cities or Houses named “Lego.” I mean, there might be. It’s two syllables and could potentially be found in any language. I wouldn’t want to step on a local family name and create more confusion by calling it “Castle Lego.”

  The new cart, by the way, works wonderfully. It has leaf-springs between the bed of the cart and the axle, as well as more regular, spiral springs out at the edges. It needs something to act as resistance, as well, like a shock absorber, but that comes later. Right now, I’m not sure it’s an improvement over a normal cart. Without the resistance, any given jolt is lessened, but it bounces for longer. I’m guessing people could ride in it more easily, but they’re still not going to enjoy the experience. Someday… pneumatic tires, shock absorbers, and independent suspension!

  Leisel was up slightly before dawn and waiting for me when I came upstairs.

  “Busy night?”

  “Not as bad as some. Mostly hauling rocks down to expand the tower.”

  “Does it need more rock?” she asked. “There’s a lot of dross and tailings from the mines.”

  “Couldn’t hurt.”

  “I’ll see to it they make two trips a day instead of one.”

  “The tower already has bedrock, but moving it is unnecessary effort. And the dross and tailings—they’re waste, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about we task someone to do it all the time? You can use it as a punishment detail for the slackers or something. They load up a cart, haul it here, spread it around the courtyard, and go back for more.”

  “All day? It’s definitely a punishment detail.”

  “If nobody earns it, don’t bother with it. All it’ll do is thicken the courtyard, or mostly. It’ll speed up an outer wall, as well, I think.”

  “Oh, someone always earns it. You can’t have a hundred people without at least one person screwing up for the day.”

  “Fair point.”

  “Can I use this instead of sending them to take orders from a craftsman?”

  “Huh?”

  “The bellows at the smelter?”

  “Oh! Sure. Has it been a problem?”

  “No, but it’s inappropriate.”

  “Oh. And hauling stones is better?”

  “Yes. They’re working for you, following your orders. It’s a major difference.”

  “Ah. Got it. Yes, by all means.”

  “Good. And since you bring up the tower, can I ask if my lessons will ever cover what’s going on with it? People talk, you know.”

  I started getting out of my armor and clothes, anticipating the sunrise.

  “Yeah, I know. What are they saying?”

  “It depends,” she shrugged. “We’re all on comfortable terms with magic. None of the ‘death to all wizards’ types saw fit to come out here.”

  “Hold on. There’s a bunch of people who want to kill all the wizards?”

  “Of course,” she said, surprised. “Cowards, really. They’re afraid of magic and what it can do. They might as well be afraid of a warrior. Or a hunter’s spear and bow.”

  “I suppose. But go on.”

  “People notice changes. The tower gets taller and wider. The hole in one side of it is gone, now. The rocks we spread around it sink into the ground. Stack stones anywhere and they stick. It’s magic. Your magic.”

  “Yep.”

  “Thought so. Do I get to understand how it all works? It’ll help me reassure people if I know how to lie correctly.”

  “I’ll include it in your morning lesson, if you like.”

  “I’m wide awake.”

  “True, but we can enter a dream by choice, if we want. Let’s go over how to do that, too.”

  “Lesson first? Or sunrise?”

  “I feel the tingle. Let’s wait until after.”

  Leisel hasn’t built a mental study. Instead, we visit mine. We’ll get to it eventually, but there are more pressing things for her to learn. These include light spells, a cleaning spell, how to use some not-user-friendly items, how to analyze enchantments, and so on. Speaking of which, she now understands the way the stone of the tower flows to match the pattern I’ve given it. If she wanted to, she could probably alter the pattern, but it’s rather delicate and tricky work, visualizing it. I have the advantage of being able to draw the plans for the end result in my head and imprint the design in my spell.

  And, upon realizing she could change the tower’s architectural plans, I realized any of the local wizards probably could, as well. It wouldn’t be a disaster—it takes too long to change anything—but it would be an annoyance. They probably wouldn’t understand what they were doing, but I still didn’t like it. I spent several minutes wiring in some distractions, defenses, alarms, and locks. They might break the spell, but I doubted anyone would alter it without my knowing about it.

  A busy day started there.

  First it was the morning workout with the troops. Huron participated and was clearly surprised at the proficiency of the local warriors. I wondered if he might reconsider. Everyone recognized his seniority and was respectful of it, especially the women. Maybe the women were also being a bit flirtatious. He’s a handsome man in the rugged, masculine way. He reminds me of… oh, who was that actor? Starred in Spartacus. Also as the captain in The Final Countdown. Dang it.

  Huron did seem to be enjoying himself.

  Breakfast came next, and kept coming; I was hungry and had a lot to do.

  Then came the matter of the floor plan for the tower. I elected to go with simple, geometric shapes. Adding an outer ring around the tower would start the castle wall. Between the tower and this outer wall, rooms could be laid out, ceilings formed, and so on. Later, we could add outbuildings or attach wings to the central keep as need arose. I moved a lot of stones—with help—and soon reached a point where my efforts were no longer needed.

  About there, I decided we did need a stable. Maybe it was all the horses in view, plowing, hauling, carrying. Maybe they caused me to look around and see the little one- or two-horse barns scattered around. How many horses have we captured? Sixteen? Twenty? Something like that? And not counting any horses the local citizenry brought with them. And one of the horses breathes fire… A real castle stable might be a good idea.

  I remembered—for some reason—to do a quick check on my divinity dynamos. They were in some shielded place last time I looked. Had someone taken them out to examine or analyze them?

  No, or not at the moment, but I’ll try again. It annoys me that the local version of scry-shielding—based on what I’ve seen of it—seems to create a solid, anti-scrying space, not simply a shell. I’m not sure if they do it deliberately, since it’s more power-intensive to make and maintain. They may not have developed a shield, but, rather, a block of armor. Then again, if it’s mostly enchantment, it’s a magical object doing the work, not a
hired wizard maintaining a spell.

  I wonder if the Sarcana wizard, Kellonol, had anything to do with it. Aside from the one I ate, he’s the only wizard I know who was certainly in the valley. He would have the best chance of noticing, especially if he was out here on a mission to spy on the place.

  I checked to see if I could find him. Not at the moment, sadly. Still, he’s probably at the Sarcana estate, safe inside the building’s scryshields.

  Speaking of which, I made some preparations for a weather-working. What I wanted was a cold front, preferably with quite a bit of rain, to move through Sarashda and finish up in the afternoon. Ideally, around midafternoon it would be relatively cool and with most of the smells of the city at least temporarily washed away. Not today, no, but soon. Tomorrow, maybe, or the day after. Getting it to rain wasn’t any trick, but the timing was. I watched the clouds from above, looking for patterns. A nudge here, a guiding impulse there…

  No, not today. But I could start the process to make it work tomorrow. Yes.

  The dungeon and other basement rooms were still going, but slower. The tower’s spell now had a lot more to do, so its efforts were divided. With two spells drawing on the local magical field, both were slowed. It’s a high-magic world, sure, but it doesn’t have enough to power every spell ever cast, all in the same place. They need to be spread out more to work at peak effect, or to have an auxiliary source of power.

  Looks like I need to start a solar panel replication. I’ve considered it before, but now it may be necessary. I flatly refuse to build a reactor again. On the plus side, the panels can draw in local energies to replicate much more quickly. If I’ve set them up properly, they should form a dome and expand from there, replicating all day. It’ll slow down the growth of the scry-forwarding shield, but I’m okay with that. The shield is big enough to ward the whole keep. I can leave it at that. Besides, anyone looking into the keep should already know what’s going to happen.

  With a bit of luck, by tomorrow morning I should have most of the valley covered in solar conversion panels. A little manual tweaking can arrange them to have a more valley-shaped footprint. Then they can feed the keep directly. We’ll see how much it speeds things up.

  Hmm.

  We have a coal mine. What if I built a furnace? If the whole thing was covered in multiple layers of conversion panels, like the conversion spheres around the reactors, we’ll eventually get a near-total conversion efficiency. Could I have a coal-fired keep instead of a reactor-fired mountain? Is it worth looking into? I’ve already subdivided the growth and maintenance spell. Should I plan for a power furnace in each section? Or feed them all from one central furnace?

  It’s an idea, but I’ll leave it for now. I know the solar panels will work.

  Next on my to-do list, I paid a visit to the mines. The communities around them were what one might expect: Small and tightly focused. Miners generally want only a few things when they come out of a dark hole, and the mining camps were geared to provide them. Their economies were much less dependent on my goodwill, though, with merchant caravans buying and selling there.

  Turns out, my iron and coal are for sale. In theory, I get a percentage, but I don’t do any of the work. The proceeds are actually used to pay miners and other employees. I still subsidize the mines, but it’s a lot less than when we started. When I returned to the central village, I asked Leisel about it.

  “You put me in charge, did you not?” she replied.

  “Yes.”

  “Which is why I didn’t ask. I don’t have to always take orders. I do think for myself.”

  I’m not sure, but I think I need to come up with some way to apologize. I’m not sure why.

  Huron and I finally had a chance to sit down—I missed lunch, so I ate while we talked.

  “How do you feel about killing a wingless dragon?” I asked him.

  “Has it been wounded?”

  “No, it’s a specific type of dragon. Big, lots of teeth, tiny foreclaws, powerful hind legs, can chomp and swallow a man in two bites—possibly in one.”

  “I’m for it. You know where one may be found?”

  “Yes. I believe one makes its lair in a dell not too far from here. It’s a bit of a hike and something of a climb, but I can find it.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “Before we go, I’d like to double-check. Are you sure you don’t want to take my offer? I’d be delighted to have you supervise the training every morning. The warriors would, too.”

  He turned away and puffed out his cheeks, sighing. I ate while a couple of morose-looking warriors drove a wagonload of mine tailings toward the keep.

  “You tempt me,” Huron admitted.

  “I’m weird like that. I think a man of skill should pass as much of it on as he can. Plus, I’m in the middle of a vendetta. My warriors need to be as skilled as I can make them.”

  “I agree, and I admire you for it. But this is my failing, not yours.”

  “How so?”

  “I cannot bear the shame of being a warrior who cannot fight. The days of my youth are behind me. My age approaches fast. Silver marks my hair and my eyes no longer see as once they did. Before long, my hand will tremble and my breath will come hard. What is a warrior who cannot fight? In every war I have ever fought, the answer is the same: A burden.”

  “But an instructor is one who does not need to fight. A teacher may know things he can no longer do.”

  “Yes, certainly. As I said, the fault is mine. I can see truth in what you say, but my heart will not hear it. It longs to die in battle, not wither beside some hearth, hidden under a shriveled skin. There is also,” he added, “the matter of my rebirth.”

  “Oh?”

  “I will die in battle against a great foe. This is a hallmark of a great warrior. If I am victorious, even in death, my soul may be reborn as a warrior again, rather than as some other caste.” He sighed. “I would join your cause and hope to die in battle against your enemies, but it will not secure my rebirth in the warrior caste. An heroic deed will. This is my desire.”

  “Sounds to me like you know what you want.”

  “I do.”

  “All right. Let’s go look at a dragon.”

  I had someone fetch his horse. I rode Bronze. We trotted north, along the eastern side of the stream, following the road.

  “By the way,” I asked, “what do you want done? Afterward, I mean? Do we burn your body and send your sword home to a son?”

  “I would be best pleased to be buried where I fall, if it is not in the belly of a beast.” He chuckled. “If it is, there will be little enough to do.

  “And your horse? Your sword?”

  “All I have with me is mine, and mine alone. Do with it what you will, for I will have no further need of it.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I have provided for my sons and daughters in what ways I may. There are none I need bequeath what is left of my wealth.” Huron’s mouth twisted in what, technically, had to be a smile. “I doubt any of them remember my name.”

  “There’s a story behind that statement.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, and fell silent. I waited, but he said nothing else. Apparently, it wasn’t a story I was going to get.

  The road turned eastward and we left it, still following the stream, heading for the waterfall. We reached it and left the horses there. We climbed. Bronze snickered as we started to climb, knowing she could clear the rim with a running jump. I told her to keep an eye on Huron’s horse, instead.

  The spear proved useful, since I neglected to bring a rope. It was at least a pole to extend down to provide a handhold. We made it up to the level of the reservoir and skirted around it, angling higher so we wouldn’t come out inside the dell, but on the ridge surrounding it.

  As we stood on a rocky edge, looking out over the trees, I heard the trumpeting roar of the beast. Huron’s eyes widened.

  “Is that it?” he asked, shading his eyes and looking for the source
.

  “It is. When we go down there to face it, I’ll flash the sun in its eyes, both to dazzle its vision and to provoke it. With luck, it’ll come at me. You’ll be hiding to one side, so when it comes for me, it’ll have to pass you and you can attack it. If you get in a good hit from the start—something to cripple it—killing it should be a one-man operation from there.”

  “Perhaps. I should like to see it, first.”

  “I understand. Maybe it will smell us, or simply wander by as it hunts. Let’s wait here for a bit.”

  Firebrand?

  Yo.

  Think we can call it over here?

  I don’t know. It’s not a dragon, Boss. There’s not a lot of brain in there, and it’s pretty far off. We can try.

  Firebrand and I thought hard about the tyrannosaur, projecting the idea it should come this way. It’s not a sophisticated thinking machine, running more to instinct than thoughts. Still, it meant the beast couldn’t tell the difference between instinct and external impulses. It passed among the clearer areas toward the middle of the valley—the trees grew largest there—and into the denser growth of smaller trees, crashing and crunching through them. It emerged into a gap less than a hundred yards away and raised its head to look at us.

  It was taller than I remembered. Not as tall as the cliff we stood on, but I was glad the beast lacked real forelimbs. If it could climb at all, we could have been in trouble.

  Huron gulped.

  “Big, isn’t he?” I asked.

  “Indeed. Are you certain this is something a man can kill?”

  “I promise. The hide is thick, but it’s not armored scales.”

  “I should hope not.”

  It trumpeted its roar again, tail swinging back and forth as its head swayed. It seemed awfully lively for a lizard with a full belly, especially since it was comatose with exhaustion not twelve hours ago. I may have given it a slightly too high concentration of oxygen, even for its metabolism.

  “Let’s get out of its line of sight so it can go back to doing whatever it does.”