Jab stood at Nee’s feet, straining eagerly at the rope leash to cross over to Jae’s property. She had a long cylindrical body and muscular legs that held her low to the ground. Scaly pink skin was perpetually covered by a layer of dirt. Her needle-sharp sting, the source of much of the trouble, was retracted into her forehead now.
Jab was a notorious creature in the town of Lok. Farmer Nee, busy fermenting moss into alcohol, let her roam wherever she pleased, and wherever she pleased tended to be a source of trouble. Galen couldn’t imagine how Elric could waste his expertise on another one of Jab’s misadventures, yet he knew that Elric actually enjoyed these escapades, since he would often recount them with the townspeople, and those were among the rare times Galen had actually seen Elric smile or laugh.
Jae took a threatening step toward Nee. “You shouldn’t be allowed to keep that animal. You don’t control her. She’s a menace to the town!”
Elric blocked his path. “Thank you, Farmer Jae. We will now hear Farmer Nee’s side.”
“He has no side,” Jae yelled. He stabbed a finger at Nee. “Incompetence! Laziness! Jealousy!”
Nee had been craftily holding one final clot of excrement behind his back, and he now flung it at Jae. It hit Elric in the side with a loud smack. The clot tumbled to the ground, leaving a splotch on Elric’s robe. Galen gasped as the crowd around him yelled insults at Nee and laughed. Elric lowered his head, but Galen could tell he was smiling.
Galen didn’t understand it.
Nee gave a short nod. “My apologies, Honored El.”
When Elric raised his head, Galen was glad to see the look of grave disappointment. “You will deliver three casks of your finest for the festival in two months’ time.”
Nee’s face contorted at the thought. At last he gave a reluctant nod, and the crowd laughed.
“Have you a side, Farmer Nee?”
“My Jab didn’t sting his Des. Wouldn’t want to.”
“Well said. Now we will examine Des.” With a flourish he extended an arm toward Farmer Jae’s barn.
The crowd parted, and Elric proceeded into the stone barn, followed by Galen, Farmer Jae, and most of the town. There was some controversy about Farmer Nee entering; he was forced to leave Jab outside. They crouched around the swug, who lay on his side in a bed of freshly cut kew grasses. A suffocating putrid odor suffused the air. Elric conjured a few small balls of light. The townspeople had seen him create light displays in the night sky, so this was little more than a curiosity. What most interested them, Galen knew, was who was right, how Elric would discover this, and how the farmers would react. This day would be a hot topic for months to come.
Elric bent over the vast expanse of swug. He placed his hands high on her mottled side, stepped them down slowly and methodically as he made his examination. If Jab had stung Des, that meant the swug would have tiny jabs growing beneath his skin. Jab reproduced by injecting her fertilized eggs into a host. Galen had done one of his earliest research projects on this. The eggs developed within the host, feeding off of it until they hatched into tiny larvae and popped back out through the skin.
As unappealing as that was, it wasn’t fatal. But Jab inserted something else along with her eggs, a virus that incapacitated the host’s immune system, preventing it from killing the invading eggs. As far as Galen knew, a swug had never been stung by a jab, so any effect the virus would have was unknown. Jabs generally chose other animals as hosts, but Jab was a renegade and a bit sting-happy. She’d stung several townspeople in her day, triggering days of vomiting and diarrhea, and startling outbreaks of larvae.
Elric’s eyes found Galen, and his hand extended in a practiced gesture to indicate Des’ right front leg. Galen lifted the fleshy limb, exposing the pale, bumpy belly. Elric palpated the expansive surface thoroughly, then gestured again to the swug. Clearly, he intended for Galen to turn Des onto his other side. Galen didn’t have the first idea how to go about this. He took hold of two of the front legs and pulled. Des twisted a bit, but his bulk didn’t budge. Galen let go of one of the front legs and took one of the back instead, pulled again. The legs stretched toward him, but the swug stayed put. Galen tried bracing a foot against Des as a lever. He caught Farmer Jae hiding a laugh behind his hand.
Farmer Jae licked his lips and cleared his throat. “Well then.” Jae picked up Des’ tail and began hauling him over. The townspeople, apparently ready to move on to the next stage of fun, pitched in and pushed the swug over. He fell with a ponderous thump.
Elric examined Des once more, including the head, neck, and back. He waved a hand over Des. “He has not been stung.”
Farmer Jae pulled unhappily on his facial hair.
“I knew it,” Nee said. “My little Jab wouldn’t have that fat carcass.”
The townspeople quieted him, anxious to hear what Elric would say next.
Elric had surely known Jab’s innocence since the beginning of the argument. One of the many probes Elric maintained on Soom was attached to Jab. She had such a nose for trouble, Elric had said she gave him more useful information than all his other probes combined. The microelectronic device transmitted images and other data to Elric’s place of power, where he could access them as needed. If Jab had violated Des, Elric would have a record of the crime. But if Jab was innocent, then what was wrong with Des?
Elric stood. “You have changed his food.”
“No,” Jae said. “I feed him only the best. Sea spree gathered from the caves.” Jae had asserted this with pride many times.
Elric produced a large bowl from his robes, making the townspeople gasp. “This is not sea spree.” The heavy earthen bowl was filled with a foul-smelling glop. “This comes from the city.”
Galen was angry at himself for not anticipating Elric’s action. He was supposed to know by now how a mage worked: information, preparation, control. He played back events, trying to figure out when Elric had concealed the bowl in his robes. He had arrived before Galen. He must have gone into the barn first to examine Des, found the odd food, and placed it near the barn door, where he could easily grab it and conceal it when he led the group inside. A quick chemical analysis could tell him the food’s composition, and he could cross-reference that with information on the care of swugs. His sensors could reveal any intestinal upset or blockage.
Jae appealed to the assembled crowd. “I bought it from a trader. He said all the prizewinners in the city eat this. Gives them better color.”
“This food has made Des sick.”
“No.” The hair on Farmer Jae’s head stood up on end. He was horrified.
“You endangered his life to win a prize. You did not know this stranger, yet you trusted him. You know your neighbor, yet you accuse him.”
Farmer Jae crouched beside Des, cradling the swug’s head in his hands. “Will he live?”
“You must feed him only the chal root for three days. Then he will stand. And for each of those three days, you must sit with Farmer Nee and drink three mugs of his brew.”
Farmer Jae licked Des’ cheek. “My boy. You’ll be all right. My large flower.” The townspeople laughed. Farmer Jae noticed Elric’s stern gaze still on him. He stood and approached Farmer Nee. “I wrongly accused. It is a mark against my own name. I apologize.”
Nee had retrieved Jab from outside. He pointed down to the animal. Stiffly, Jae crouched, and his voice quivered. “I wrongly accused. It is a mark against my own name. I apologize.”
Jab’s nostrils widened, and her head lowered. Galen knew that look. Jab’s sting shot out to full extension, and with her powerful legs she lunged at Jae. Galen grabbed Jae’s arm, yanking him back. He stumbled and fell, Jab’s sting passing only an inch from his leg. Galen pinwheeled his arm for balance, but it was too late. He was pulled down with Jae. He landed on Des, eliciting a sonorous belch.
Jab made aborted lunges at the end of her leash while Nee held her just out of reach of Jae, a satisfied smile on his face. Farmer Jae raised his head. It had landed in
the bowl of foul-smelling glop.
“We erase the mark,” Nee said. He turned and dragged Jab out. The townspeople began to follow, stopping to give Elric a nod of respect.
“Look!” Fa cried. Galen had lost track of her. She stood in the doorway of the barn, pointing upward. “Wonders fall from the sky!”
Galen worked his way off the swug and threaded through the crowd, burst outside. The mist had cleared—the work of Elric, of course. The sun was low, and against the clear backdrop of pale blue, he saw what appeared to be a long red streamer coursing and twirling downward. Above that, a winged horse glided down in a lazy spiral. The mages were beginning to arrive.
Elric laid a hand on his shoulder. “We will meet them.” He had only one frown line between his eyebrows, and his thin lips were raised in a slight smile.
Galen had looked toward this convocation with a mixture of excitement and dread. It brought the chance to renew old friendships, the chance to learn from the wisest and most skilled. It also brought his initiation, when he would become a techno-mage, as he had hoped since he could remember.
But in truth he did not believe he was ready. He did not yet deserve to become one of their number. He had not produced anything truly original for Elric.
“You have set me a task for tomorrow,” Galen said. Fa grabbed hold of his hand and tugged him in the direction of the landing ships.
A second line appeared between Elric’s eyebrows. “You need time to prepare.”
Galen knew he should greet the mages with Elric. Elric had impressed on him that he, too, was a host of this convocation. But he needed time. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
“You will not disappoint me.” The intonation was somewhere between a reassurance and a threat. “Go,” Elric said.
Galen bent toward Fa. “Stop. I’m not going with you. I have work. Go with Elric.”
She released him reluctantly, and he ran toward home.
Angels, dragons, and shooting stars rained from the sky.
— chapter 2 —
Mages arrived steadily now, as the sun set. Elric stood before the tents on the mak. As always, he stood not only in this place but in many places; he saw not just one thing but many things. All around him, the planet lived and breathed. Magma circulated; volcanoes exhaled; water nourished; life grew. He had given himself to Soom, sunk his bones deep into this planet. As it lived, he lived.
His place of power was just a few hundred feet away, below the great circle of standing stones. A part of him was always there, within that silent chamber of rock, within Soom itself, connected to it, giving it living spirit. The connection arose from a large section of the chrysalis with which he had long ago trained. It sat at the heart of his sanctum, and over the years it had grown, sending threads deep underground. It was a part of his extended body, as was the planet. Intertwined with a variety of other devices, it formed his place of power, allowing him not only spiritual union with his home, but increased abilities and powers.
Within the datasystems of the place, he held his knowledge of the planet, its history, evolution, and development. Through the place, he coordinated the many devices that he had developed and deployed over the years, devices that controlled the planet’s weather, that directed the course of rivers, that diffused the force of earthquakes, that sensed changes in the universe about him and helped further his scientific studies.
From the place, he accessed the faster-than-light relay in orbit about Soom, a part of the vast network of relays mages had established around their homes and other locations that drew their attention, allowing them to communicate with one another across vast distances. With the energy of the place, generated by his chrysalis, he maintained spells over the course of days and months and years, and recorded data from millions of microscopic probes he had planted across Soom. He monitored those probes constantly, nourishing his relationship with this world and everything on it.
On the far side of the planet, a herd of wild tak trotted toward the Lang River, the sunrise shining through their voluminous hair.
Across the continent, the desert city of Drel baked under the high sun. Deep below it, the stress in the planet’s crust had been safely dissipated, preventing a disastrous earthquake.
Closer by, the coastal city of Tain was fading into dusk. Tain was one of the largest Soom cities, an unplanned patchwork that served as a center for trade, mainly by sea, but in a modest way, also by space. The sole spaceport on the planet was quiet, a single row of small trading ships parked out on the grassy field. The corrupt leader of this city, the Rook of Tain—His Exaltedness, as he liked to be called—appeared particularly thoughtful as he chewed energetically on his dinner, a swugskin souffle.
In nearby Lok, the town Elric had made his home, the streets were quiet and the air was clear. Elric had altered the weather patterns so the arrival of the mages would not be obscured by mist. Many of the townspeople had come down to the mak to watch the wondrous display in the sky, and the landing of the ships. They were welcome for this opening night of the convocation. After that, the proceedings would be closed to them.
Behind Elric, Fa watched from the shelter of a tent flap. Though Elric had placed no probes in the tents, out of respect for the mages’ privacy, he knew that within, cooks, attendants, and cleaners, hired from Lok and the city of Tain, were finishing preparations for the welcoming feast.
All this he knew at once, and all this he watched at once. Yet one vision in particular held his heart and mind, and before it all others faded into the background. He terminated his connection to the various probes, allowing himself to focus on the beauty of the here and now.
Each ship, as it approached the landing site, was disguised in a different, beautiful illusion. A silver fish wound among the evening stars, singing a haunting aria. A golden dragon breathed bouquets of flowers. A sailing ship rode the air currents. A giant model of an atom made a stately descent. A pin-wheel of fire spiraled through the night. They were dreamers and shapers, singers and makers.
Once they had been greater in number. Yet in the past, more had been drawn to them for power than for understanding. Now they were five hundred, dedicated to learning, sharing the beauty of magic, doing good. For once no mage was in serious violation of the Code, and no feuds between mages seemed likely to erupt into violence. They were far from perfect, to be sure—eccentric, opinionated, intense, quick to anger—but Elric had never been more proud of them.
When he had been elected to the Circle nine years earlier, his feelings toward the mages had subtly changed. Before that, they had been his colleagues, his order, his clan, his family. Now they were also his responsibility. Joining the Circle had been a great honor, yet it was also a great burden, in ways he could never have anticipated. The mages’ past, and their future, lay in his trust. It was his charge to keep them safe and whole and focused on the Code. He felt that responsibility keenly now.
The convocations were critical times of bonding and affirmation, and this one perhaps more than any other. The signs were uncertain, yet he felt a growing sense that things were changing, quietly but irrevocably, not only here on Soom but everywhere. A darkness was growing. The mages had to be unified in purpose and spirit, prepared for any danger that might threaten.
And if no danger threatened, he would gladly laugh at the fool he had been.
As the various shapes landed they shed their illusions, revealing the sleek, triangular techno-mage ships beneath. Using his sensors, Elric scanned the three ultraviolet frequencies in which mages hid signs. Signals sent on each of the three frequencies had to be correctly combined for a complete sign to be revealed. This allowed mages to mark various objects, such as their ships, with signs that no one else could see. Each ship was marked with the rune representing its owner.
The mages began to emerge from their ships, and they crossed the mak to greet him, walking beneath his globes of conjured light.
Elric greeted them each in turn. First came Kell, the greatest o
f them. Kell was of the line of Wierden. They shared no genetic connection, but Wierden had passed her wisdom to her apprentice, and those teachings had continued along a chain from mage to apprentice. That chain had led to Kell, and now to Kell’s apprentices. Though each member of the Circle was meant to be equal, Kell’s opinions were given the greatest weight; his plans were most often approved. He was the Circle’s unofficial leader, the one who had guided them, during his nearly fifty years in the Circle, into this period of focus and relative equanimity.
Elric was dismayed to note that Kell had further weakened. In his prime, he had been strong of body and mind, a master techno-mage with a vibrant, charismatic personality, filled with energy, driven by commitment, and illuminated by wisdom. But he was now one hundred Earth years old, and over the last six years, Elric had observed signs of decline. Kell’s stride, once long and quick, was now shorter and slower. His shoulders had become hunched, his lined face tensed with the effort to understand events that would have previously required no effort. Kell’s powers of technomancy must have suffered a similar decline, though Elric had seen no evidence of it. Kell’s falling star had burned as brightly as ever as it had made its way to the planet’s surface.
Kell always used that symbol at convocations, as did many others in his honor. Kell believed the falling star embodied the concepts of magic and science for every intelligent race. What intelligent species did not look up in wonder at the sight of a mysterious, brilliant object streaking through the night sky, or later seek to explain its nature?
Kell wore a plain black robe with a short, white fur cape over it, and carried an intricately carved ivory staff. The cape had been awarded to him several years earlier by the Shan of Zafran 7, to whom Kell served as adviser. Kell kept his dark scalp hairless, in respect of the Code, though he always wore a goatee scoured into the complex pattern of the rune for knowledge. It had gone white in recent years.
Casting Shadows (The Passing of the Techno-Mages #1) Page 3
