by Garon Whited
Thank you, I think.
“Fair enough,” I said, aloud. “Anything else that we can hit quickly?” Rendal lifted a hand and I nodded at him.
“Sire, your knights have undergone some sort of magical training. Would it be possible to begin similar training for the City Guard? I understand that it is your intent to, eventually, allow immigrants to gain status and position after serving in the Guard. Should not their training there be thorough?”
“Yes and no. Their year in the Guard should teach them more about respect for civilized behavior and the proper use of force, not just how to use more of it. That’s their primary lesson.”
“Ah. Very good, Sire.”
“But you’re right about Guardsmen in their second year or more,” I agreed. “Kelvin, Thomen—please work with Rendal on a schedule for them. They have regular duties, remember, so there will have to be some sort of rotation, obviously…”
They assured me they would sort it out. No one else had anything pressing, which was good. I wanted to get to work on my distribution-of-momentum spell while the idea was still hot and fresh. I handed the meeting over to Tort and disappeared into my workroom.
The reason people die from impacts—sword strokes, maces, car crashes, falling off buildings, whatever—is not the acceleration. Acceleration doesn’t hurt. Every time you jump into the air, you accelerate. The problem is uneven acceleration. A punch in the face will accelerate your head, but it will start with your nose and start it moving backward before the rest of your face gets the idea. A sword will try to move the part of you under the edge without moving the stuff to either side, resulting in a cut. Even an astronaut being launched into space has this problem; the seat behind him is pushing him forward, trying to shove his backside while his frontside is still wondering where they’re going. Give it enough oomph and you get squished astronaut.
What if an incoming object could have its force distributed evenly throughout the target in a perfectly inelastic collision? Instead of a cannonball hitting a breastplate, with predictable results, how about hitting the breastplate and transmitting that force out to every cell and atom in someone? If everything moves together, you don’t get the squish effect. Everything stays—as far as the subject is concerned—right where it is. Ribs don’t try to relocate; organs don’t splash; tissues don’t tear.
Think of it like gravity. Falling doesn’t kill you; you accelerate everything in your body at once, which makes it harmless. The sudden stop at the end, however, doesn’t affect the whole of you, just a sequence of body parts as they come into contact with the ground.
If this can be done, instead of making a hole, someone would suddenly start moving backward in the direction of the cannonball’s line of flight. Just slower.
How much slower? Depends on the mass of the cannonball, the speed it was going, and the mass of the target. It would average out. A one-kilo ball hitting a nine-kilo target would wind up being a total of ten kilos. If the ball started at ten meters per second, the combination of the two would wind up traveling at one meter per second.
Ratios. Nice. Finally, I can use math.
Boss?
“Hmm?”
Good time to bother you?
“Hmm? Oh. Yes. What’s on your mind?”
Tort wants to know if you’re coming to dinner and if you’ll have time for a meeting afterward.
“She asked you to ask me?”
Yep. You were busy, and she didn’t know if she could interrupt without disintegrating the world.
I didn’t ask if that was hyperbole. Tort has a very high opinion of me; she might have meant it.
“Tell her yes, to both. I’ve got the basics on this sorted out. Some of it came from aspects of that flying spell T’yl cast for me; it seems to treat a person as a whole unit, rather than directing forces from a direction. I’ve got that going on, so any transfer of momentum in or out of the system should affect the subject of the spell as if it were a particle, rather than a system of particles. But my spell still needs more work. I keep getting some thermal changes and I’m not sure why. It’s more than I like, though. At higher speeds and masses—like cannonballs—I’m worried that it’ll heat up a human enough to cause shock. It’s fine for me, at night, but living people are more sensitive to rapid temperature changes. I need a way to shield the subject from it, or work out how to vent it somewhere else.”
…am I supposed to understand all that?
“Not really, no. I’m just talking to myself.”
Bronze is up on the throne level.
“Oh, very funny. Wait. Throne level?”
That’s what people call it.
“Oh. I guess that makes sense.”
And you haven’t got long before dinner. Do you plan to get ready for it, or just show up? —Tort wants to know, Firebrand added.
“I’ll be right up.”
And I was. I made it a point to arrive a little early, freshly cleaned, pressed, and polished, just to make Tort happy. She likes it when I clean up for dinner. I was awarded the Pretty Smile of Cheerfulness in reward.
Dinner was dinner; not much different about that. My recent trip to visit Hargus, though, made me especially conscious of the differences between the cultures, as well as the similarities. Entertainment here was less participatory, more performance-based. Music was more melodic here, rather than rhythmic. And, of course, there was a good deal more polite nothings, courtesy comments. Sometimes, I think the please-and-thank-you of a civilization can tell you more about that civilization than any of its technical achievements.
I did notice Sir Sedrick picking at his food, though. He didn’t seem happy; he seldom smiled, nor did he participate in the singing or the laughing. At a bet, something was on his mind. I had the young lady who was waiting on my table mention to him that I wanted a meeting after dinner, if he was available. A minute or two later, after she whispered in his ear, he looked up at me and nodded. Good.
Tort looked an inquiry at me. I smiled and nodded: yes, she was invited.
After the ceremonial goblet of blood, I called it quits for dinner. Tort got up with me and we headed up to my chambers. T’yl joined us in the hallway just outside his rooms.
“Majesty. May I have a word?”
“Of course.”
“In private?” he asked, glancing at Tort. I shrugged.
“Tort, if Sedrick shows up before I get there, please ask him to wait.”
“I shall.” She gave T’yl a look, then continued. T’yl and I stepped into his chambers and he closed the door. He also gestured, activating a powerful shielding spell around the room.
“Private conversation, hmm?” I asked.
“Indeed, Your Majesty. I have some concerns.”
“If you’re concerned, I’m concerned. Tell me.”
“It is about Tort, Your Majesty,” he said, sounding nervous.
“Oh?”
“I know you are intimate with her, and that you have strong feelings about her. Yet, I feel I would be remiss indeed if I did not share my thoughts on the matter.”
“T’yl, you’re a trusted advisor and a member of my council. Whether your observations are correct or not, I want them. I understand that you’re a little worried about making me angry. Don’t be. You’ve just warned me that you are only doing your duty by telling me what you think. Okay?”
“Very good, Sire.” He visibly, consciously relaxed. “I believe she is maneuvering to place herself on the throne.”
I waited. He looked at me.
“And?” I prompted.
“She may be planning to take the throne,” he repeated. “I believe her intent is to rule as Queen.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he echoed.
“Amber doesn’t want the job. Tianna’s too young and I doubt she’d enjoy it, either. I know I don’t like it, and I don’t feel that I have the organizational skills needed to run a kingdom, anyway—that’s why I have so many council members. I need all the help I ca
n get. Tort runs the day-to-day stuff and makes an excellent right hand in all matters of internal affairs. Can you think of someone better suited for the job?”
“But… but you are the King!”
“Yep. And if she wants the job of ruler, she can ask for it. I might just give it to her. Not because I love her, which I admit freely that I do, but because I think she’d do a swinging job of it.”
T’yl gathered up his jaw and worked it back into place.
“You…” he began, but didn’t know where to go with that. I clapped him on the shoulder.
“I know. But don’t worry about it. She’s a woman, and they’re dangerous, but this one seems intent on being dangerous in ways I can live with,” I said, humoring him.
“For now,” he said. “I don’t fully trust her, Sire, and particularly when that much power is at stake. As a magician, her mischief is limited by her own capabilities. As a ruler, it knows no bounds.”
“You’re forgetting that I’m the King. If she becomes Queen, I’ll be her boundary. But if it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll keep an eye on her and her mischief. If I find something I don’t like, I’ll let you know. Maybe you can help me if she starts to get out of hand.”
“Just as you say, Sire. I have warned you.”
“So you have, and I thank you for it.” I lowered my voice and added, “Please keep an eye on these matters. People are more careful around me; they know I can hear them even at a distance. But you can notice things I’ll miss. Let me know what else you discover.”
“I shall.”
He didn’t seem completely put at ease, but he obviously felt better with royal sanction to listen to gossip. For my part, I made a mental note to pay more attention to what Tort does, just to keep him happy—and because I’d probably have to justify her actions to him. What I go through to keep my friends from being nasty to each other…
Of course, Tort does wear a lot of hats for me; how would I tell if she was plotting after the throne? She does most of the work of governing the place as it is! Besides, if she cared to play a long game, it wasn’t unreasonable to hope for a crown just by marrying me.
Hmm. Do I even own a crown?
I continued my interrupted walk to my rooms and found Tort in conversation with Sedrick.
“Evening,” I offered, and thudded into the carved chair. “What’s on your mind?”
They looked at each other, clearly offering to let the other go first. Tort insisted with her eyes and Sedrick bowed from the neck in assent.
“Majesty, I feel that I am wasted here.”
“Oh? Not enough evil?”
“Exactly. I am a Hero. I quest for evil to destroy, yet the only evil here is the occasional, petty evil found in all men. That is hardly fitting work for a Hero.”
“I don’t know. There’s the never-ending battle for Truth, Justice, and other capitalized things. But I see your point. Your job is to find big evil things and smite them, and there’s nothing worth your powers here.” I sighed. “Well, I’d say I’m sorry, but, you know…”
“Of course, Your Majesty, of course.”
“I do apologize, however. I really thought that horrible nastiness would pop up more often around here. I expected it to keep showing up, but now it seems to be avoiding the place.”
“It’s not your fault, Majesty. Well,” he corrected himself, “perhaps it is your fault, but I doubt anyone can blame you for it.” I chuckled at that.
“Fair enough. Do you plan to leave us?”
“I must.”
“I think I understand. Well, if I may make a suggestion?”
“I would welcome it.”
“Go through Baret and head north. Take a look through the territories of Byrne, if you can. They’re rapidly becoming my major political priority, and I suspect they’re being unpleasant to everyone. I hear rumors of conscription and tyranny, and I suspect there’s at least one professional demon-summoning magician working for the Prince of Byrne. I don’t know if that counts as the sort of evil you want to challenge, but I’d sure like to have a Hero’s opinion on whether or not Byrne is an evil place or not. My own judgment may be a little skewed, you understand, being king of another country.”
“Certainly, Your Majesty. I can look for evil anywhere. Who knows? Byrne may have more than its share.”
“It will take some time for him to ride to Byrne,” Tort said. “Not everyone rides an enchanted steed, my angel.”
“Ah. Yes, there are disadvantages to living so far out in the country. Hmm.” I thought about it for a minute and decided it was probably worth it. “Tell you what. When you get your gear together and get ready to leave, I’m pretty sure I can put you down on the other side of the Eastrange, maybe pretty far north. I’ve got some other errands to run, but… day after tomorrow? Is that too long? Or too soon?”
“I see no reason I could not wait upon Your Majesty’s convenience.”
“Wonderful! I won’t be ready before the day after tomorrow, at the earliest, so there’s no rush to pack. Anytime after that, I think.”
“Nonetheless, I shall hold myself in readiness,” he assured me. “And thank you for your kindness, noble King.”
“Think nothing of it. I’m just here to help.”
“Perhaps you are,” he said, which I found rather cryptic. “By your leave, Majesty?”
“Go.” He went. Tort immediately moved to occupy the Royal Lap. I kissed her lightly before speaking. “You can’t stay there long. I’ve got a lot to get done, and some of it requires me to be dead.”
“Still? What else is there after your long absence?”
“It wasn’t that long.”
“It felt like forever, my angel,” she said. I made a pfft noise. She smiled. “It always does. Perhaps not forever, but it was longer than I expected or desired, especially at my age.”
“Ha. I should be back before morning. I have to talk to the sea-people about Mochara’s sewage.”
Her brows drew together as she tried to figure out how those two things related.
“Trust me,” I said, “it’s important. And I have to get going—wait. There is one other thing.”
“Anything, my angel.”
“Do we know farmers who would be willing to go live at Crag Keep? Not that I want to order anyone to go, but I’m thinking of offering a sizable pile of gold, a plow, tools, a pair of horses, a wagon, and all the trimmings. Do you think anyone would take me up on the offer if it meant moving to Crag Keep and setting up farming shop there?”
“Probably. We have marked off a number of plots within each of the four fields, as you described, but there are younger sons who do not stand to inherit. If a bride-price can be included, I feel sure a new couple would find it very tempting. May I ask why you would do this?”
“They were nicer to me than they needed to be,” I told her, “and they need the help. I won’t send anyone, but if someone can be paid to go there, I’ll do that much for them.”
“I see. Very well. I will find out if there are any takers.”
“Thank you. Now, I’m off to the ocean, then probably to the lab.”
“Shall I have the stone bridge placed in your workroom?”
“Stone bridge—? Oh. I’ll handle it. Thank you for reminding me.”
“One of my many utilitarian services,” she assured me, and kissed the end of my nose.
“You have lots, as well as your ornamental functions,” I said, and set her on her feet. “But I’m wasting the night. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight, my angel.”
I ducked into my study while she headed to the bathroom. I found a small, stone model of a bridge in the middle of the floor. It looked a lot like the ones that spanned the gorges for the road to Baret, just tiny.
It was alive. Seriously alive. The mountain had jam-packed vital energy into it. I immediately recognized what it had done. It had created a sort of mountain-seed. If I put this thing on one side of a river, in contact with
the ground, I had no doubt it would start to grow. Would it grow enough to span the Averill? Maybe. If it didn’t, though, I could add more vital energy to it to make it grow more.
Would it grow into a mountain? Or would it just be a bridge? I suspected it would just be a bridge. It looked like a bridge, rather than a miniature mountain. Since it didn’t have a vital-energy reactor setup, when it used up all the vital energy stored in it, it would just be regular stone again.
Probably.
I moved the model bridge into my workroom and left it there. I could plant the seed when I dropped Sir Sedrick off. For now, I had a seaside trip to take. Bronze took me out and around and down. We passed by Mochara on the way to the sea, waved at the sentries on the wall, and went right over the low cliff, landing in the water with an enormous splash.
Neither of us needs to breathe. At least, Bronze doesn’t; I don’t need to breathe at night. We just kept going out into deeper water. I squinted and blinked a lot, at first; the salt water stung my eyes.
Firebrand?
Yo.
Can you hear anybody?
You mean any fishy guys?
Yep.
No… but then, I don’t hear anybody all that far away. I only hear you over long distances when you shout.
Got it. I should have given some thought to how I was going to find anybody.
Bait? it suggested.
Not funny.
No, I mean, is there anything we could use to attract them?
I gave that some thought as Bronze plowed us deeper into the ocean. I knew they liked glass. They also liked gold. Was there anything that they liked that would be useful as an attractant?
Aha, I thought. Fire.
Fire?
They like fire, remember?
Well, yeah, when it’s not so close it’s blinding. Okay. Want me to light up and see what swims over, Boss?
Hold on a second.
Bronze slowed to a halt on a rocky, underwater prominence. I unsheathed Firebrand and held it up. It blazed like a bar of burning magnesium, shedding a hard, harsh light and sending up a boiling, seething column of bubbling steam. The light drove back the abyssal darkness and changed the pure black-and-white of my vision into a brightly-colored tapestry of plants and corals and fish. Fish schooled and swarmed around us, attracted and repelled at once.
