Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4

by Adolfo Garza Jr.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Those people must be incredibly cautious about security. Without a national network link, it means the ’writer is part of a private network. That was how ’writers were first used, actually, until the large networks were put in place. Ether writers in private networks can be ether-tangled serially or in parallel.”

  Chanté watched as Quillan further explained, voice rising slightly with excitement.

  “Serial is cheaper, but if one ’writer is broken or destroyed, it cuts the link to those beyond it. Thus, it’s likely these were ’tangled in parallel, and if so, this ’writer will receive every message in the network. Normally, it would only keep and display those messages meant for itself, ignoring the others it receives. However, one of the circuits I placed will change that. This ’writer will now show all messages from the network.”

  “Clever. But if those people are so careful about security, won’t they get replacement ’writers and put a new private network in place?”

  “Possibly, but depending on how many ’writers they need to replace or re-entangle, doing so could be incredibly expensive. They might assume they are safe to skip that expense by not communicating directly with this device. Setting these circuits is simple and could lead to a treasure trove of information in case that happens.”

  “I see. And what is that cricket?” Chanté pointed.

  “Once finished, the magic circuit I inscribed on this,” Quillan lifted up the small metal sheet, “will be linked to one I placed on the ’writer. It is enchanted with a spell that will emit a chirp whenever the ’writer receives a message. That way, I’ll know even if I’m not looking at the ether writer. Each time a message is received, you see, another circuit I linked to the device will gain a little data. I can use a spell to read that information and jot it down for Master Gella. The cricket will let me know I have something waiting. I’m going to provide a cricket to her as well so she’ll know that I may have information for her.”

  The way Quillan’s eyes shone, the excitement in his voice, even the way he used his hands while he explained his work all made Chanté feel . . . happy. His lips pulled into a smile.

  Quillan titled his head slightly. “What?”

  “You’re very good at what you do, and you seem to really enjoy doing it. I like listening to you talk about it.”

  A half giggle, half chuckle burst from Quillan and his cheeks turned a faint pink. He looked as if he wasn’t sure he should believe it. “Really?”

  Some kind of loud, strange sound came from Chanté’s abdomen. Mortified, he glanced down. What in the world was that?

  Quillan laughed. “It seems like you’re starving. Let’s go eat.”

  At seeing his smile, Chanté’s lips curved into one as well. Why was it that even if his body did the most distressing things, he didn’t mind as much if it was Quillan who’d witnessed it?

  Chapter 9

  Therday, Quartus 22, 1875.

  Afternoon.

  Aeron walked in, narrowed his eyes, and glanced around the classroom before returning his gaze to the strange sight.

  At the front of the room, a cow stood within a fenced-in area just to the side, slowly chewing on hay from a bale. Whenever she lowered her head to grab another mouthful, the bell at her throat would give off dull, hollow clanks.

  He again glanced around the room as he walked to his seat and saw confused but curious looks on other faces.

  “What do you make of that?” he said as he sat between Willem and Fillion.

  Willem shrugged and chuckled. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “I’m not sure, either,” Fillion said, “but Gregor is involved. He wouldn’t tell me anything about it, though.”

  “Gregor?” Aeron looked back at the cow. Fillion’s boyfriend was wont to be somewhat dramatic in his Healing Craft demonstrations. What was this poor heifer in for?

  The young man in question and their normal instructor walked in, but only Gregor continued farther into the classroom. The instructor sat in a seat near the door.

  Hmm. Aeron watched Gregor walk to the front and turn to face the class. The healer adept wore a long apron that almost covered him completely.

  “Many of you were at the attempted train robbery,” Gregor said, “so were witness to the life-saving measures and procedures that were used on people there, particularly those at the ballista after the tree exploded.”

  Aeron nodded. Some of their injuries had been pretty bad. Once they’d caught the group that had tried to run, he’d helped tend to the wounded until actual healers could get to them and prepare them for transport to Stronghold.

  “That fight,” Gregor said, “only reinforced our decision to teach you another healing spell, Aeron’s Vascular Sleeve.”

  Aeron’s eyes widened. Oh gods. As heads suddenly turned to him, he sat as far back into his seat as he could, sinking down a bit as well.

  “Aeron developed this spell in response to Jessip nearly losing his life to a nicked vein.”

  He glanced over at Jessip, who was looking at him. With a smile, Jessip nodded at him in a kind of salute.

  He returned a weak grin.

  Why do you feel embarrassed?

  They’re going to teach the class my spell for nicked arteries and veins.

  You should be proud, then.

  Aeron pressed his lips together. Maybe, but you know I don’t like being the center of attention. Through the link, he felt her chuckle and her humor.

  “This spell, along with others, was instrumental in saving limbs and lives at the train.”

  “S–Sir?”

  Aeron turned to the speaker and raised his brows. Chanté was taking the initiative to speak?

  “Yes?”

  “W–What exactly does this spell do?”

  Gregor smiled. “I’m glad you asked!” He turned to the board and began sketching. “Arteries and veins are comprised of three major layers. The outer layer consists primarily of fibers of a protein called collagen. Below that is a layer of mostly muscle, and the innermost layer is made up of a thin layer of cells.” He turned to the class. “That’s a very general breakdown, but what we care about are the collagen fibers in the outermost layer and the muscle fibers in the middle layer. Those two layers are what the spell anchors to.”

  Turning back to the board and sketching some more, he said, “The primary reason limbs or lives are lost in the field is due to blood-loss. The patient loses too much before they can receive proper medical attention. Aeron’s spell places a sleeve over the cut portion of an artery or vein, acting as an extension of the vessel itself. Even if it has been completely severed, as long as both ends are visible, you can place the sleeve spell. And as you can see,” he gestured to the sketch, “the sleeve is anchored in a short band completely around the vessel beyond both ends of the nick or cut, here,” he tapped the sketch, “and here,” he tapped again. “The spell draws the anchored bands together, pulling the vessel closed, and then the thin barrier around keeps the blood inside, where it should be, until the injury can be treated properly.”

  Gregor turned to the class. “It is by no means intended as a permanent fix, but it serves admirably in allowing time for a patient to receive medical attention. Once at a medical facility, a doctor or surgeon can clamp off the ends of the vessel, counter the sleeve spell, and begin suturing. It’s quite an elegant solution to a terrible problem.”

  He walked over to the cow. “And that brings us to Clementine, here.”

  Aeron got a tight feeling in his stomach. What was Gregor going to do to Clementine?

  “We have placed a spell on her to temporarily deaden the nerves in this area.” Gregor passed his hand over her side. “That will allow me to expose a vein without causing her any discomfort.”

  A little moan of worry slipped past Aeron’s lips before he could clamp his mouth shut. He wasn’t alone in those feelings. Uncomfortable noises and the sound of shifting seats came from all around the room
.

  “Do not fear,” Gregor said as his scalpel sliced through Clementine’s hide. “She is perfectly safe and feels no pain.”

  It seemed to be true. Clementine’s only response so far was to shake her head. Her big, fluffy ears flapped quietly, and the bell at her neck rattled dully, before she continued to chew contentedly on hay from the bale.

  “There. I have exposed the vein we will use in this demonstration.” Gregor turned to them. “If you could all approach, please? I’ll be using a modified version of the spell so you can all see the sleeve.”

  Aeron stood and glanced at Willem, who chuckled at his discomfort. After a brief glare, Aeron made his way along with everyone else down to the front of the room.

  The class stood in a loose semi-circle before Clementine and Gregor.

  A pulse of magic came from the healing adept. “I’ve put up a barrier to protect you.”

  Aeron didn’t like the sound of that one bit.

  “From this.” Gregor turned, and with a quick slice, partially cut the exposed vein.

  Blood spurted, then dribbled, then spurted, over and over, in response to Clementine’s heartbeat. A little splashed against the barrier each time.

  Cheddar groaned. That shade of green did not suit his complexion at all.

  Sharrah reached for his hand.

  Aeron couldn’t really blame Cheddar. He, too, felt a little queasy. Performing autopsies and examining nahual at attack sites had gotten him a little used to things like this, but it was still a bit distasteful.

  “As you can see, the vessel may at times be difficult to locate or observe. In such cases, you may need to apply pressure near the nick, slowing the flow of blood in order to get a clear view for placing the anchors.” He put words to action by pressing a finger against the vein and halting the rhythmic flow. Little pulses of magic then came from him as the sleeve spell was built.

  “And when you’re ready,” Gregor said, “complete the spell.” He lifted his finger, blood spurted, a slightly larger pulse of magic washed over Aeron, and then a shimmery, blue sleeve appeared on the vein, covering the nick and half an inch on either side.

  The blood loss had been stopped.

  Chanté grunted. “Excellent.” He turned a surprisingly intense gaze on Aeron. “That spell is fantastic.”

  Aeron blinked. He felt . . . inordinately happy, almost as if his father had praised him for a job well-done. His lips curved into a grin and he turned to stare at the sorcerous sleeve. “Thanks.”

  Anaya was right. He should be proud.

  “Now,” Gregor said, “let’s take care of that vein before I close her up.”

  He removed a small span-clamp from an apron pocket and clamped its ends on either side of the sorcerous sleeve before he countered it. A few deft sutures later, and he removed the clamps. A small pulse of magic was likely a spell to ward off infection, and then Gregor stitched Clementine’s hide closed.

  “Good as new,” he said, smiling. “We’ll leave the anesthetic spell I mentioned for a day or two, to let her heal up a bit without pain.” He patted her on the back, and she turned, still chewing, and gave him a quiet little low.

  Wiping his hands with a cleaning cloth, he said, “If you’ll return to your seats now, you’ll find copies of this spell waiting for you. Please place your copy in your binder. It’s a journeyman-level spell, so you’ll want to be sure to devote some time to studying it. The class will practice this spell next time we meet.”

  Aeron paused in sitting down. His classmates were nowhere near as talented as Gregor. What if they botched things up and hurt Clementine?

  Gregor turned to the happily munching cow. “You’ll not be working on a live patient, however, merely on vessels saved for us by the kitchen staff.”

  Aeron let out a relieved breath and sat. He picked up the spell sheet and looked it over. It had taken four months, off and on, to work it out with Gregor’s help. They’d finally finished it a little over three weeks ago. It would likely have gone faster if not for all that madness with the Corpus Order.

  “Aeron, this is a great spell.” Chanté leaned forward to see him past Fillion and Willem. “You created the portal spell as well, correct?”

  He nodded. “I did. But you’ve got skill with creating spells, too. That shield spell is amazing. I wish I’d thought of it. I heard Master Doronal was very impressed when he saw it.”

  Chanté blushed. “He was?”

  “Yeah. Something about never having seen a spell with multiple primary foci.”

  Chanté grew pale, for some reason. “I–I see,” he said. “W–Well, I, ah, guess you could say I was inspired by your portal spell. It uses trilateral symmetry with respect to which foci are placed into hyper-magic states. That was a brilliant way to stabilize the various stages with the spell having only a single, ah, well, with the way it was built.”

  “Did you understand any of that?” Fillion turned to Willem.

  Willem laughed. “I think so?”

  Aeron frowned. Trilateral symmetry? If you looked at the portal spell a certain way, the transformed foci were kind of grouped into threes, actually. He grunted.

  “You sure know a great deal about magic,” Quillan said. He was sitting to Chanté’s left.

  “I, ah, guess I do.” Chanté placed the spell sheet in his binder and stared at it.

  The Guildmaster was still studying the shield spell for safety, so Aeron hadn’t used it, much less become more familiar with it. When she’d learned about it that day, the Guildmaster had wanted the spell scribed, but Chanté had been in a kind of daze. Because it had been anchored to Anaya, however, Aeron had seen the spell and was able to write it down. He prepared a neat, proper copy for her later, but he still had the rough version he’d hastily scratched out. He’d have to take a look at it to see about this trilateral symmetry business.

  + + + + +

  Elizabeth rubbed the back of her neck, flipped the form over, and read the next one. Gods but she could use a massage right now.

  Focus, Bethy. Focus.

  She sighed and re-read the form. This was the part of investigative reporting she dreaded. Long, boring hours in libraries or record rooms like this one. Still, she’d found many a solid lead in a dusty chamber. At least, once she was granted access. That was bureaucracy, for you. It had taken almost the entire day for the clerk to gather the documents and lead her to this airless room to review them.

  She’d much prefer the excitement of being in the field in a covert role. True, it was more dangerous—she’d almost been killed investigating the leaders of a child pickpocket ring—but at least out there you were doing something.

  “Better than filling my lungs with dust,” she muttered.

  She set the form onto the pile she’d already read through and began on the next.

  Owner: Insurgo Industries.

  Hmm. Of the businesses she’d already researched—all of whom had so far lead to dead ends—Insurgo Industries was the parent company of a few. She was looking for more companies owned by any of those same parent companies, hoping to find something, anything that she could move forward with. This formation document was for a company named Stronghold Vermin Control.

  More and more rat catchers were trying for legitimacy, tossing aside their old, almost minstrel-like affectations and using—and touting—the more scientific methods of magic, chemistry, and technology, so there were actually a few legitimate pest control businesses. But was Stronghold Vermin Control real, or just another fake company? Its date of formation was a year ago, which was well in the range of the false companies she’d found so far. She jotted down its information anyway, including the listed address, and moved on to the next form on the pile.

  The bottom of the stack was reached an hour later, and she’d found no other formation documents listing any of the companies she was interested in as owner. She sat taller and stretched her back. There was a little time before most businesses closed for the day, so it might behoove her to inv
estigate the one new lead she’d found.

  She folded the sheet of paper with the address and tucked it in her purse. “Let’s see if Stronghold Vermin Control actually exists.”

  As the carriage pulled away, she stared at the front of the building. It was not located in a prime part of the city for businesses, the more desirable parts of town were not where one found rat-catchers, generally, but it was a respectable enough area. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, the buildings were mostly of a height, and an alleyway opened between every two. Most buildings had two doors on their fronts, each home to a different business, based on their signs.

  Stronghold Vermin Control’s offices were in the left side of this building. The front of the one-story structure was nondescript, and the windows had blinds pulled shut, so she was unable to get a glimpse inside. A large glass pane in the door was painted with the business name in white letters, which stood out starkly against a dark curtain that also blocked her view inside. There was a card tucked in the bottom right corner of the door pane that read, ‘By appointment only. Deliveries in back.’

  Elizabeth frowned.

  Knocking a few times over the course of five minutes produced no results, and trying the door revealed that it was, of course, locked. She looked up and down the street, but there were too many people about for her comfort. She glanced at the card again.

  The alley was neater than most, and even neater than the street where that one enchantment shop had been located, though there were still occasional bits of garbage or broken crates or barrels about. There were no rats, however, for which she was grateful. And one reason for that made itself known in a quiet way.

  A mottled cat mewed at her.

  She smiled at the mouser. “Keep up the good work,” she murmured in passing.

  At the rear, she peeked around the corner. The back alley was a little wider and, surprisingly, had less trash strewn about. Garbage bins stood near the back doors of the buildings, but other than that, the alley was clear of any large obstructions. It probably had to be, though, so that the garbage wagons could get through the narrow lane.