by M. Gregg Roe
Marryn took his left hand and smiled at him. “You’re a good brother. Yes. Let’s head back.”
Gabriel acknowledged the salutes of a pair of passing city guards as they neared the bottom of the stairs. His sister maintained a firm grip as they descended, but released his hand when they reached the street. He took the lead, opting for the shortest route, which also meant less-traveled thoroughfares.
“Have you seen Kora recently?” Marryn asked suddenly, and he felt a twinge of discomfort. “You have,” she said with a note of sadness. “I can see it in your face.”
He had never been skilled at hiding his emotions, or at telling untruths. It simply wasn’t in his nature. Unfortunately, both of those things were part of normal social interaction.
“It was official business,” he told his sister, then quickly explained.
“I haven’t thought about that incident in years,” she said, turning pale. “From what I heard, their business actually increased when they reopened.”
Gabriel wasn’t so sure. The incident had probably repelled at least as many clients as it had attracted. Furthermore, he knew that some of the courtesans had resigned afterward, receiving an early release from their contracts.
“You know,” Marryn said, with a hand to her chin and a calculating look, “Hazel once told me she has no interest in having children.”
His sister was deliberately making a point, drawing a parallel with Kora. “Maybe I no longer consider children a necessity,” he bluffed.
She regarded him with pity. “Yes, you do, Gabriel. You not only want to sire children, but to prove that you can be a better father to them than ours was to us.” She spread her arms and raised her head. “I understand how you feel. Any man I marry needs to be a good father or I’m kicking him out.”
Awash in powerful and unfamiliar emotions, Gabriel said nothing during the remainder of their walk back to Tobias’s house. He wanted to deny his sister’s assertion, but feared she was correct. As much as he admired his father, even he had to admit that Mardan’s parenting skills had been lacking, placing an undue burden on Medea. He needed to give the matter the serious thought it deserved. But that could wait. Tonight was for family.
[ 8 ]
Stone Blocks
Standing amidst the strange blocks of stone on a vividly bright morning, Audrey felt uneasy. It was her first visit to the site, made possible by first viewing it close up from one of the crystalloids’ observation rooms. All she had done so far was to scan the nearest block for magic. The results, displayed in two neat lines of floating white text that only she could see, were surprising. The level of magic was lower than she would have expected, but that wasn’t all. “What do you mean magic type unknown?” she demanded, spreading her arms in exasperation.
There were seven types of magic—white, black, air, earth, fire, spirit, and water. Teleportation was a type of black magic. Flying required air magic. White magic including healing and even raising the dead. But this magic was something different, something unknown to Andoran? The thought of it was chilling. The blocks might represent a real threat.
The display was how she interacted with the many magical powers she had gained as Guardian. Responding to either vocal or mental commands, it could show both text and simple line drawings. More impressive was the built-in information store, kind of like having her own personal library. For someone who was neither a spell-caster nor well-educated, it was a godsend.
Audrey picked another block to scan, but got the same result. Then she scanned the entire area and found nothing magical aside from the blocks.
“Why are you here?” she asked the nearest block, but it didn’t reply. Actually, it would have been scary if it had.
The surrounding area was unappealing, relatively flat and with little in the way of vegetation. Most of the trees and bushes were either dead or in terrible shape. It looked to her like there had been a long drought. This definitely wasn’t one of the nicer parts of Andoran’s Realm.
She continued her investigation. A block’s longest dimension was nearly the length of one of her arms, with the other two dimensions about half that. She tried to move a block and found it to be unexpectedly light. Holding it cradled in her arms, she estimated it weighed maybe forty pounds. It must be hollow. She placed it back down next to one of the other blocks and eyed them. Aside from minor variations in the surface coloration, they were identical.
Since the blocks weren’t that heavy, she tried arranging some of them. Six blocks formed a six-sided ring with a six-sided, hollow center. “A hexagon,” she said, happy to remember the proper name. “If Andoran were responsible, it would probably have been a…” The word escaped her. “It would have had seven sides,” she finally said.
She squatted down and ran her hand over the surface of a block. The surface had the coarse texture of sand. In fact, the block appeared to be made from compressed sand. “Is there a type of stone made from sand?” she queried. Quite a lot of text appeared. “Sandstone,” she mused as she skimmed the information. “How literal. And sand is just little tiny rocks? I never knew that. Or that it came in different colors. That’s enough. Thank you.” The text obediently vanished from sight.
Next, she squatted down to examine something else that she had noticed. It was hard to see, but easy to feel with her fingers. On top of the block, there was a pattern composed of circular areas that were either slightly concave or convex. Measuring about half an inch across, each circle was part of a tight, five-by-five grid. There were also patterns on the two angled ends, but they were different. The rectangular sides had no patterns that she could feel, but when she flipped it over, she found yet another pattern on the bottom.
“It’s a guide,” Audrey exclaimed happily as she stood back up. “It shows how to fit the blocks together.”
She had to try it. After carefully noting the pattern on the angled end of one block, she set about finding one with a complementary pattern. She assumed that the matching block would be relatively close by, and she was right. It only took her a few minutes to find it.
Audrey put the first block down on a relatively flat area. After placing the second one inches away from the matching angled end, she pushed it toward the first one. When they were less than an inch apart, the two blocks slammed together with an odd sound—a resounding thud combined with a faint ringing. They were like one long block now, with a seam that was barely visible.
“What was that?” she said, feeling a sudden sensation of warmth. Standing up straight, she even felt slightly light-headed. “It’s almost like being drunk,” she murmured. That was something she hadn’t experienced in years because alcohol had no effect on her modified body. She still wasn’t happy about that, but it was nice to be immune to both poisons and diseases.
Shaking off the odd feeling, Audrey tried to separate the joined blocks but was unsurprised when she failed. The two-block unit was the beginning of a straight section of wall. Other blocks would fit above, below, or attach to the ends. Eventually would come an angled corner. Or maybe a hexagonal tower.
“It’s a castle,” she declared, feeling proud of herself. “Well, more like a full-sized castle kit.” (She had seen wooden kits for sale that assembled into models of buildings or ships.) “But who’s supposed to put it together? And who is it for?” And just how big would it be?
The time had come to seek advice, and she knew just who to ask first. After picking up a block, Audrey teleported home.
Sitting dazed on the floor of her sewing room, Audrey looked over as Benson sauntered into the room, no doubt wondering what all the fuss was. He glanced around briefly before walking over, and she obediently began to stroke him. It was the block’s failure to teleport with her that had caused her to stumble and fall. Nothing like that had ever happened before.
“How can something not teleport?” she said to the cat after sitting up. “Magic resistance?” That was something that she had heard of but never encountered. Would that read as unknown m
agic?
Benson didn’t reply, but he did climb into her lap and settle down. He was becoming more affectionate in his old age. No more did he spend his days outside terrorizing the other denizens of the mansion’s grounds. Now it was sleeping inside and availing himself of any available warm body, especially hers. She thought it rather sweet.
After some additional stroking, Audrey gently removed the cat from her lap and stood. He gave her a dirty look and then headed out of the room with his tail swishing back and forth. “I’ll give you more petting later,” she promised.
She exited via the front door and turned left when she reached the flagstone path that ran nearest to her cottage. Her route took her behind the mansion and past the wide garden shed near the south wall. Minutes later, she arrived in front of a cottage identical to her own. Before knocking, she ordered a magical scan that revealed that Daragrim was in his office. Happy to find him home, she rapped on the door three times.
“Good morning, Audrey,” he said, smiling amiably as he answered the door. As usual, his simple attire mixed shades of light and dark brown.
“Good morning,” she responded, sporting her own friendly smile. “The Guardian needs your advice about something magical.”
“I see,” he said, then stepped back and gestured for her to enter. “I am free until early afternoon.”
That was when he gave her cousins their daily magic instruction. In fact, Daragrim was the most experienced spell-caster in the Witch’s City. And it was his daughter, Almera, and her husband who owned the mansion and grounds. For Ilona and Iris, it was incredibly convenient.
Now over a century old, the wiry elf was remarkably spry. His hair and beard were gray with age, but his green eyes sparked with life. Audrey frequently dined with him, either at his cottage or hers. Really, he was one of her favorite people, quick-witted and rarely in a bad mood.
After seating herself in one of the two human-sized chairs in the sitting room, she briefly explained what she had discovered so far.
“It does indeed sound like magic resistance,” he remarked, absentmindedly fingering his goatee. “I would like to see it for myself. Just give me a minute to gather a few items.”
He soon returned with a leather satchel slung over his left shoulder, then fetched a broad-brimmed hat from a peg near the door.
After teleporting the two of them to the site, Audrey walked over and glared down at the block that had refused to come with her. It had made a noticeable dent in the ground but was undamaged from what she could see.
“It is just as you said,” Daragrim said, holding his hands above a block. “There is an aura of magic, but not a particularly strong one. And I can detect nothing in the surrounding area.”
“Can you tell what type of magic it is?” she asked.
He hesitated. “It is like nothing I have ever sensed before. Although…”
“Yes?”
“There is a similarity to the spell that Oljot uses to transport himself here. That also has an odd feel to it.”
She knew that Daragrim had tried unsuccessfully to learn that spell, but that was probably Oljot’s fault. The man wasn’t exactly sociable, even to other spell-casters.
“Then do you think the blocks could be from outside Andoran’s Realm?” she asked.
“I can’t rule it out,” he replied with a small shrug.
That was ominous.
After walking over, she gestured at the block in front of him. “Can we figure out how many blocks there are from the size of those patterns? There are twenty-five circles, and each is either carved out or sticking up. Wait. Isn’t that only fifty possibilities?” There were already more blocks than that.
Daragrim regarded her with a stern expression. “That is not the proper way to calculate the number of possible combinations,” he chided gently. “If there were only three circles, the answer would be two times two times two, making eight. If a fourth circle were to be added…”
His expectant look brought back unpleasant memories of disappointing the various people who had educated her when she first came to the Witch’s City. It had taken her quite some time to master addition and subtraction, and she still made mistakes more often than she would admit. Multiplication was fiendishly difficult and division nearly impossible, at least to her.
A glance showed that he wasn’t about to let her off easy. Even worse, she had begun chewing on her lower lip, a nervous habit she despaired of ever eliminating. The answer must be simple. Maybe multiply by two again? That was just like adding a number to itself. “Sixteen?” she finally said.
“Correct,” he said, to her delight and relief. “I can’t multiply two by itself twenty-five times in my head, but it is a very large number, certainly in excess of a million. That implies that each pattern has only one match.”
“There’s only one way to put it together,” she said, nodding. “Do you think someone will eventually show up to build it, maybe after all the blocks have been sent?”
“That is one possibility,” he said thoughtfully. “It is also possible that this is some type of test or puzzle.” He prodded the block with the toe of his left boot. “Have you attempted to damage one?”
“I didn’t want to risk it,” she replied. She also didn’t want to end up with a hole in the wall of whatever it turned out to be. That would be annoying.
“I would not be overly concerned. There has to be some means to replace damaged blocks, but we should pick one out and record the patterns on it before making the attempt.”
“So we’ll know if it gets replaced.” She walked over to the one she had failed to teleport and pointed. “This one.” That would teach it to be obstinate.
Daragrim had come prepared. He produced a stylus and a piece of paper from his satchel and recorded the patterns, even making a sketch to show exactly where each one was located. She helped by flipping the block over to make sure they didn’t miss anything. When he finished, he gave her the paper, and she stowed it in her belt pouch.
Since the blocks were resistant to magic, damaging it obviously called for physical force. “Just a second,” she said, then teleported to her sewing room. She grabbed her quarterstaff from the rack by the door and then teleported back. Crafted of thick ash, both ends of the weapon were capped with hardened steel. Daragrim had also enchanted it, toughening the wood without sacrificing flexibility.
Audrey began by using one end of the staff to tap the block. “It doesn’t sound hollow,” she commented. Holding the staff with only her right hand, she raised it up and drove it down at the center of the top. The block shattered, not into pieces, but into reddish-brown sand that fell to the ground. She stepped back to avoid the dust cloud now spreading outward.
“It is definitely sandstone,” he commented dryly. “And surprisingly fragile.”
“No kidding. A castle built from these would be ridiculously easy to break into.” She could probably punch and kick her way in.
He squatted down to examine the heap of sand. “I suspect that the completed structure will be far stronger.” He picked up a handful of sand and scrutinized it. “There is no longer any detectable magic. This looks and feels like normal sand.” He turned over his hand and let it trickle out before standing up.
“So what do you think I should do?” she begged.
“You have three options,” he stated, holding up three fingers. “Wait for blocks to stop appearing and see what occurs. Continue building the structure and see if that reveals anything. Destroy all the blocks and any others that may appear.”
“Destroying the blocks might make whoever is responsible mad,” she pointed out. She would only resort to that if she knew for a fact it was something dangerous.
Daragrim adjusted his satchel’s shoulder strap. “If all the block patterns were documented, then it would be possible to construct a small model to see what the completed structure would look like.”
That sounded like a huge amount of work. She would rather just build the thing. “
I’ll think about it,” she lied, smiling. “Let’s head back.”
Back in his sitting room, Daragrim said, “How are things faring with that elf you spirited off to Tritown?”
“Ferikellan?” Audrey shrugged. “I still don’t know that much about him. I’m going to put him to work and see how he does.”
“That sounds reasonable,” he said. “As far as the blocks are concerned, please let me know if you discover anything else.”
“I will,” she promised, then teleported back to her cottage. He wasn’t the only one who had teaching duties that afternoon, and she needed to prepare.
During dinner in her cottage that evening, Audrey realized she had never told Daragrim about the odd sensation when she had joined the two blocks. She should have demonstrated the way they snapped together, maybe even let him try it. Well, she could always do that later.
Her dining companion was Conrad, an innocuous-looking, blond-haired man three years her elder, who had been her steady boyfriend for several years. Not a word had been voiced as they ate, but that was typical. They also had spoken little as they worked together to prepare the meal. It was an activity they both enjoyed, partly because they were both competent cooks.
One reason for the lack of conversation was their lengthy relationship, but Conrad was also shy by nature. The sole exception was any mention of carpentry, which was his profession. The man could drone on endlessly about the relative merits of different types of wood and joinery.
No one had ever described Audrey as shy, and she had as little interest in carpentry as he had in martial arts. But somehow the two of them had meshed, and not just physically. They got along well, rarely even having minor disagreements. Their many differences were a strength, not a weakness.
After they had finished eating, Audrey made a quick sketch and handed it over. “Have you ever seen a stone block shaped like this?” she asked as he sat on the rug in front of the fireplace, stroking an appreciative Benson. Many of the buildings he worked on included some stone.
