by Garon Whited
“So, any questions?” I asked.
“Since I didn’t follow more than every third or fourth word, no.”
“It’s really pretty basic—”
“—for you. Stop talking.” She kissed my forehead. “You’re busy with things that might mean life and death. When you’re bringing the plane in for a landing, on fire and shy one engine, is not the time to give a flying lesson. You focus on landing the plane. I’ll be ready to bail out if you say so. You can explain later.”
“Are you sure? You like to be kept in the loop.”
“And I appreciate your effort,” she assured me. “I don’t actually need the technical details.”
“How else are you going to learn?”
“Slowly, and with lots of patient help.”
“Fair enough.”
“All this is preparation for finding your missing ball, right?”
“Not exactly. Mostly I’m cleaning up after myself, undoing all the things I did. I’m trying to put the world back in order since I’m the one who messed it up. This part of it, anyway.”
“That’s a good enough reason for me.” She kissed my forehead again. “You save the world. I’ll check on the news.”
The sun sank and so did I. I checked on the progress of the nexus healing spell.
Well, crap.
I sat down in the mud by the nexus and considered it carefully. The network of lines I placed over the opening was visibly thicker, at least to my eyes. The gaps between lines were slowly closing, as though growing a skin over the open wound. As a rough estimate, I placed the complete sealing-over at something like forty or fifty days.
But the intensity of the forces within the containment seemed lower than before. That didn’t strike me as right. If there was a constant flow, a reduced aperture would account for a lower intensity. This was more along the lines of a pressure bottle. As long as there was any opening, the intensity inside the containment should equalize and remain relatively constant—aside from the usual drain to maintain containment, of course. But that relatively minor drain wouldn’t account for this, would it? Damn it, this is why I need to create a scale of measurement for magic!
Excuse me.
I let out a burbling warble that probably scared whales halfway around the world. I whirled in place as I came to my feet, scanning in all directions on the way up and finishing by looking directly above me. Nothing, nobody, nowhere, aside from a cloud of mud the size of Newark.
Sorry about that, the voice continued. I tried not to startle you.
I recognized the voice. It was me. The other me. The psychic energy-imprint me.
Could you try saying “Hey, it’s me,” next time?
Sure. Got a minute?
For you? Sure. But I thought you couldn’t talk to me unless we were on holy ground? Or if I invoked you?
I just need to be invoked. You don’t have to do it. In this case, Sparky asked me to pass along a message.
Sparky did? Why?
Because you’re not anywhere near an open flame? In Karvalen, candles and lamps are commonplace, but in a technological culture, open flames are regarded as dangerous. Aside from the occasional fireplace, power outage, or candlelight dinner—
I take your point. I’ve been on a ship a lot.
Yeah, those don’t take well to fire. Unless it’s a steamship. I wonder if the interior flashes of flame in a gasoline or diesel engine would be enough—
I don’t get along with fire too well, either, I cut him off, when I’m on the boat. I’m allergic to drowning.
Well, that’s ironic, considering where you’re standing.
You think I haven’t noticed?
Just observing. Anyway, Tianna did the actual invoking. She wants to talk to you when you have a minute. As I understand it, she asked Sparky and Sparky couldn’t reach you, so Sparky asked me.
That’s gotta be galling.
Not really. Letting Tianna go into the Temple of Shadow and ask Beltar, the Deveas of the Lord of Shadow, for help—that would be.
Ah, I see. As long as we can keep it from the children, it’s okay?
Kind of, yes. By the way, how’s the cloak?
Shifting shape.
Really? Interesting. Does it do anything else?
Not that I’ve noticed, I admitted. It does blend in well, though.
Good to know.
I felt an increase in attention as a sort of psychic pressure.
Mind if I ask what you’re doing?
Trying to close a nexus.
I see. Why?
Because I don’t want the locals tapping into it and using it to fry me.
Good reason, he agreed.
By the way, since you’re here…
What can I do for you?
Can you locate my Evil Orb? I figure I ought to ask, rather than make you read my mind.
Good thinking. No, I’m afraid not. I’m not capable of reaching into this world unless it’s in your immediate vicinity. Even then, it’s hard. If you weren’t standing so close to a power center, I might have had to quit this conversation already.
Is it worth asking why?
You’re the only thing I have that’s even remotely like a worshipper. Well, I take that back. There are still a number of people who know you or are scared of you, but no one who actually prays—directs their psychic energies, if you prefer—toward you. There’s no active faith, therefore, no real power. Acting in this place is like trying to run an electric car off your flashlight battery. Each world has a certain tuning to it and we sort-of gods of Karvalen don’t have the knack.
I thought you mentioned the Lord of Light could do it.
I believe so. I need more samples to work out the trick of it.
I plan to do some world-traveling, someday, I thought back, while I look for a comfy spot to settle. I’ll keep you posted.
Would you? I appreciate it.
De nada. Anything else?
That’s it for me.
Okay. How is Tort?
Coming along nicely, he assured me. It’s a slow process, though, and I want to get it exactly right.
When you put it that way, take all the time you need, I assured him.
I appreciate your patience. Anything else?
While you’re here, can you tell me if my healing spell on the nexus working? Any suggestions to improve it?
I waited while the psychic presence directed its attention at the nexus.
Offhand, I’d say you’re on the right track. If anything, you might make the meshwork finer. I’d also suggest putting multiple layers over it. After it grows in, you’ll want it strong enough to take the load, rather than just a thin layer of metaphysical tissue.
Good thought. I’ll get right on that. But why the finer meshwork?
From what I can see, it’s having a hard time growing over the holes you’ve got. Smaller holes will fill in faster and get you a better growth rate.
I’ll take your word for it. It’s hard to get a good look inside. Thanks bunches.
De nada.
And I was alone on the ocean floor again.
I got to work on the nexus bandages and tried not to wonder what Tianna wanted. I hoped it wasn’t urgent. I should have asked what the time differential was like over there.
Friday, February 26th
With the nexus sealing itself, we steamed off to the island again to top up the yacht’s stores while I went ashore and set things on fire.
Recalling the last time I had a fiery conversation, I drew ideograms in a flat spot on the beach. On this, I carefully laid a few wooden boards, each carved with the appropriate symbols. With several armloads of driftwood piled nearby, I built a fire on the boards and attempted to invoke Sparky. If she was listening, I might get her to connect me with Tianna.
The fire roared up into a pillar, shrank down into a woman-shape. It was featureless, like some of the more abstract mannequins, but it spoke.
“I heard your call,” said the rushing flam
es. It sounded a lot like Amber, but I blame that on biology. Pyrology? The flames.
“Hello,” I replied. “I understand Tianna wants to talk to me?”
“Yes, but she gave Me a message for you, if you are willing to receive it.”
“Ah. All right, tell me, please.” It pays to be polite.
“Your wife, the Queen Lissette, requests the aid of the Demon King.”
My reply was not addressed to Sparky, but it had a lot of heat behind it. The flaming figure folded its arms.
“Shall I tell her this is your reply?” Sparky asked. I detected a trace of frost from the flames.
“No. I apologize. I was annoyed at the circumstance. I thank you for the message. If you would be so kind, please let her know I’ll be along as quickly as I can. —speaking of which, how long has it been since I left there?”
“Three months, give or take.”
“I’ll try to hurry. Thank you again.”
“You see?” Sparky asked. “We need not be adversarial.”
“Maybe you’re right. We can be civil.” I did not add I would continue to trust her about as far as I could comfortably spit boiling tar.
“I would wish for more, but I will content Myself with the progress we have made.”
The flames flared high and fell to ashes.
“Thanks bunches,” I told the smoking pile. I sat down on the beach and looked out over the ocean, thinking tired thoughts. Of all the things I wanted to do—at the moment, a very short list—putting on my Demon King hat and playing monster was not one of them. Secretly, I suppose, in the deep, dark places of my heart, I hoped Lissette would have no further problems. She could have a happy reign over a happy realm and everyone would eventually realize what a wonderful ruler she made. And, by extension, I wouldn’t be feeling like a tired worker called back after a long shift to deal with an unexpected problem.
So, why go back? Because she needs me, and because she asked for my help.
“So,” Mary said, once I was back aboard the Princess, “what’s the plan?”
“I’m thinking I can—okay, we can—go through a gate, ask Tianna what the trouble is, and make plans from there. While we’re gone, this nexus can heal itself and close. The rest of them will keep pounding the dome territories and keep everyone away, so there’s no rush to get those closed. I doubt anyone is going to go down to the ocean floor, and I don’t think anyone here can affect them at a distance. I think we can get away with letting things sit like this for a while.”
“The plan is to drop everything and see what your granddaughter wants, then decide what to do.”
“Yes.”
Mary blinked at me for a moment, head cocked to the side.
“I was being sarcastic.”
“Oh? Sorry. You should have used more; I missed it entirely. Is there something wrong with my priorities?”
“No… No, I suppose there isn’t.” She looked thoughtful for several seconds, tapping her lips with a fingertip. “Come to think of it, I guess your priorities are in better order than mine. You’ve got family values and suchlike. It’s been a while since I had to deal with any of those.”
“You could stay here and keep an eye on everything, if you prefer.”
“Not on your unlife! From now on, whatever world you’re in, I want to be in. Getting dropped off here with no way back was uncomfortably like being a child dropped off somewhere until Mumsy or Dad came to pick me up again.”
“I hadn’t considered that.”
“Yeah, well… Sometimes I’m not the best at expressing my feelings.”
“You do all right. I’m the one with all the denial and repression.”
“Not all of it,” she muttered.
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked when we are leaving.”
“First, we make arrangements for the Princess and the crew. Second, we unload and go ashore. Then, first thing in the morning—never open a gate to another world at night; it might be daytime on the far side—we go into my gate room in Karvalen.”
“Isn’t your gate room underground? We’ll be safe from the sunlight.”
“Yes, but there are two points. First, I can miss. If I don’t hit my gate room, we could have a full-sized garage door of sunlight pouring through at us.”
“Considering how bad that is, what do I need with a second reason?”
“The second one isn’t so bad. Sudden transformations go with gate travel between time zones. From living daylights to dead of night is unpleasant but brief; our regeneration will fix everything. From dead to alive—from night to day—is a terrible, sickening shock and it takes all day to recover. I don’t recommend either of them.”
“Good to know,” Mary agreed. “Let’s pay the crew some bonus money, talk to Walt about long-term parking, and get Bronze unloaded.” Mary looked thoughtful. “I wonder if they have a crane at the marina?”
They didn’t, but getting Bronze off a boat is much easier than getting her on. She walked carefully over the edge and right into the bay. A short while later, she walked up out of the surf with an air of “Problem? What problem? I looked, but I couldn’t find a problem.”
I love my horse.
Mary set up some automatic payments to maintain the crew and staff. Apparently spending the rest of the winter and possibly some of the spring in the Bahamas is not, in their opinion, a terrible hardship. I also agreed we were unlikely to need the Princess instantly when we returned, so allowing Captain Tillard to use it at his discretion around the islands was a nice bonus.
Finding something to use for an archway wasn’t any great challenge, either. There are a number of storage places, garages, warehouses, and so on possessing doorways large enough for Bronze. We selected a suitable rental unit for storing excess goods and I drew symbols on several sheets of a notepad. With some tape, a spell to burn the paper, and a couple of charged power crystals, we were practically home free.
Saturday, February 27th
Early this morning, we went into the storage place, taped paper all around the garage-sized door, and flushed for Karvalen. My gate room snapped into view and we slid through immediately. The gateway behind us shredded into nothingness. I didn’t get to see it, but if all went according to plan, the papers burst into flame once the gate shut.
I didn’t want to destroy a gate, even a temporary one, while it was running. I remember the last time.
Once we were through and safely home in the mountain, my jacket rippled into a cloak again, crawling up my arms to slither around my shoulders and lengthen down my back.
“That’s not fun to watch,” Mary said, staring at it. She looked a little green.
“I’m the one wearing it,” I countered. She nodded, still eyeing my cloak with sickly sort of fascination.
I popped a quick scrying spell outside to check the time. It looked like early afternoon. I canceled the view and dialed the mirror for the Temple of Flame. One of the assistant priestesses answered. Sheena, I think her name was.
“Majesty,” she said, as the image swam into focus. She bowed.
“I hear my granddaughter wants to talk to me. Is she in?”
“She is in Carrillon, Your Majesty, attending to the establishment of a temple within the city.”
“Figures. Thank you.”
“It is an honor to serve.”
I hung up and dialed for the Palace at Carrillon. If Tianna wasn’t immediately available, at least I could call Lissette…
One of the Palace mirror-minders swam into focus. She didn’t scream, so that was to the good. She looked as though she wanted to, though. I tried to ignore this.
“Good afternoon,” I told her. “My compliments to the Queen and if it suits her to take a call…”
“I’ll see to it she’s informed.” The mirror tilted upward to a pleasant pastoral scene on the ceiling and I heard a lot of hurrying in the background. They changed the picture since last time, I noticed. It was a forest with a stag half-hidden among the trees
.
It wasn’t a long wait. The mirror tilted down again and Lissette looked out at me.
“You came?” she asked.
“You called. That’s how it works.”
“I… I wasn’t sure…”
“I’ll always try. I may not get the message until much later, or it may take me a while to get here, but if I’m too late to help you, it will be from circumstances, not from a lack of trying.”
“It’s good to know. And it’s good to see you again.”
“The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure. What seems to be the trouble?”
“Do you remember the Kingdoms of the West—Hyceteyn, Actareyn, and Lyraneyn?”
“Vaguely. There are several city-states, I think, on the shores of the Western Sea? Those are three of them?”
“That’s correct, although they are more than single cities. They each have one major city from which they take their names, but they also have vassal towns and villages all around them.”
“Gotcha,” I agreed, without commenting on the idea of a city-state. Rethven doesn’t really have the same concept. A prince might rule over a regusularium, or a prince’s domain, but—silly me—I used the old Imperial term, asticogens, which is more in keeping with what I think of as a city-state. I think Lissette wasn’t familiar with the term.
“The Church of Light has little influence within the core of the kingdom, more as you go into the farther reaches. Beyond our borders, they have considerably more power. I believe they have influenced the rulers of Hyceteyn, Actareyn, and Lyraneyn to rebel against the nominal authority of the Crown.”
“I thought they only paid lip service to the Crown, anyway? We don’t tax them, do we?”
“No, we don’t. This conflict is based on appearances, pride, and on religious prompting.”
“When you say ‘conflict,’ you mean it… how?”
“They’ve been building armies ever since the days of the Demon King, but they’ve been assembling troops over the past month or so. Our spies tell us they should start their march east any day now.”
“Huh. And what is their objective? To take Carrillon?”
