The Invisible Hand

by Chris Northern

"I think she is close by, perhaps. Let's look inside." I mounted the steps. "We won't be long."

  Stepping through the doorway, I moved to one side of the block of light that streamed through the door. After a moment, I reached out and pulled Anista to my side. It's not good to stand in the light when you might be being observed by someone whose eyes have adjusted to the gloom. Not that I expected that to be the case; in fact, I could feel that the Keep was empty. The stillness whispered of abandonment. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that the room took up the whole level of the Keep with smoothly plastered whitewashed walls. Nothing remained of furniture; a single staircase led up to the next level. It was the floor which caught and held my attention. It was made up of a large circular mosaic of complex design, and after a few moments I walked forward to examine it more closely, trying to make sense of the pattern. Blocks of varying size spiralled unevenly in to a central circle. Within each block were symbols, some of which I recognised from our system of mathematics, others more arcane and unknown to me. In the centre of each block of symbols lay physical representations of parts of the anatomy, and here the pieces of the mosaic were minute, the detail superb. At the centre a complete human figure lay within the inner circle. On an impulse I reached down and touched the mosaic, running my fingertips along the lines of a section of bone, showing the marrow within. The floor was smooth, untextured, the lines between each piece almost invisible. It might have been created as a mosaic, but then magic had been used to make it into something else. Like the Grave, I could feel the magic of it plucking at my mind.

  "What is it?"

  I glanced up at Anista, who stood to one side and watched me examine the mosaic. "I don't know."

  "I don't think I like it here."

  I straightened. I was standing in the middle of something arcane, and I didn't know what it was. I took a couple of quick steps to the edge of the mosaic and walked around it, back to the door where Anista was waiting for me. "Nor do I," I said. But I knew of someone who did like it here and I'd already decided what to do about that. I congratulated myself for thinking ahead and left what I'd brought with me by the door as I followed Anista out.

  Outside, I saw at once that the guards were on edge. The mounted guard was leading our horses closer, his sword was in his other hand and he guided his own horse with his knees. The second guard also bore naked steel and was on the steps as we emerged. He checked and cupped his free hand to his ear, then pointed east and twitched his hand to one side. I stopped and turned, cocking my head to listen, but couldn't hear anything over the sound of our approaching horses’ hooves thudding dully on the dry ground. I raised a hand to check the guard that brought them and he brought the mounts to a halt. I could still hear slow hoof beats approaching, any view of what sounded like a single rider blocked by the bulk of the Keep.

  There was nothing to do but wait and see. So we waited.

  Everyone relaxed when Balaran rode around the corner and reined in on seeing us.

  "Balaran," I greeted him. "What are you doing here?"

  He walked the horse closer. "The same as you, Sumto, exercising my curiosity. Have you been inside?"

  I told him I had.

  "What do you make if it?"

  He didn't have to say what. "City built. Old. It reminds me of the Grave."

  He nodded. "Yes. Makes you think doesn't it? There is another one, identical," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Want to come and take a look?"

  I did.

  He led us back the way he had come, through the gardens and up a shallow rise to a small plateau of bare stone where stood a circle of standing stones. In the centre of this lay a second mosaic which was, as he had said, identical to the first. We dismounted and left our horses with the guards at the head of the trail; they didn't seem eager to come any closer. Anista walked at my side but cast only sidelong glances at the mosaic, her attention more focused on the surrounding hills and the spread of woodland below the hill.

  "Why two?" I asked.

  "Good question," Balaran said. "Whoever made this and the other did not mind to spend a great deal of money; the amount of stone involved," he cupped his two hands together to encompass an invisible sphere as large as a small apple. "Expensive. But to answer your question, there are two because one would not serve. This is how Duprane made her beasts," he pointed to the mosaic. "A man would stand here, and I am guessing that inside the Keep there would be a wolf placed in a cage at a given location on the mosaic there. Then, when the artefact was triggered, there would be a merging between the two, the extent and direction of that merging depending upon where each was located. See the symbols? Eyes, ears, blood, bone, muscle, heart, sinew, brain, and the characters set around them? They indicate the extent of the change."

  "How would she trigger the artefact? The Grave needed stone to trigger it, but the Necromancers gained abilities simply by study. Would it be the same here?"

  Balaran nodded. "Artefacts bleed magic of their nature; they affect those who are close. This is how the Necromancers acquired their abilities, abilities in tune with the Grave’s power; but to use the full power of the Grave as it was intended, a sorcerer with knowledge and stone would be needed. But this, I think, was a little different from the Grave. Why do you think the standing stones are here?"

  I looked around, taking in the stone circle, noting the shadows they threw in the afternoon sunlight. Then I shrugged. "I haven't got a clue."

  He smiled. "I had to think about it but I think I have an answer. The stones are a calendar, the shadows tell the time of year. I think the process is triggered at set times on specific days of the year. Different effects on different days. Unlike the Grave, I think this artefact is self-contained and we see its entire purpose. No sorcerer or stone needed; simply knowledge of its workings."

  "So who made it? And why?"

  He turned to look back the way we had come. "You saw the Keep?"

  I turned with him, nodding. "City built; old."

  "Yes. In the early days, we were more profligate with our power, more experimental, and the sorcerers who emerged were less restrained; stone was more plentiful, used more casually. The Speculative Histories..." he broke off. "Well, today a working such as this would cost a vast fortune, but five hundred years ago stone was not accorded a monetary value in the same way, mining was not controlled because there was no one with the motive, the power or will to control it. So, my guess is that this is nothing more than an expensive folly, perhaps an experiment or made as a gift to some local king, long dead, or even created by a sorcerer for some personal purpose that will never be known to us. Perhaps what we would now call a rogue mage." He shrugged. "Who knows?"

  I knew our history, possibly better anyone, yet I'd never read any mention of this place, any more than I had heard of a collection of works called The Speculative Histories. With the Grave, that made two such artefacts in close proximity that were unmentioned in the histories that I knew; with a hint that there might be more in and around Battling Plain. In short, I wasn't fully buying into Balaran's explanation. Not that that helped me much. I still had no idea why it was here or what its real purpose was, and only a vague idea of when it was made.

  "Why wolves?" I turned back to scan the mosaic within the standing stones.

  Balaran shrugged. "No reason I can see. I suspect it would work in the same way with any two living things, each taking attributes from the other and melding into two different forms or," he pointed to the centre of the mosaic, "one completely absorbing the other."

  That thought made me shudder. "And so far apart so that it could be done without knowledge or consent?"

  He looked thoughtful and slightly disturbed, looked back to the Keep with his eyes unfocused. "I suppose so. I can visualise a scenario or two involving both lies and coercion. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

  "It makes me wonder about who made it and when and why."

  "Why so complex? Why so many possibilities? A wolf like a man, a man like a wolf, two me
n made into one. You could steal a man's health or part of his mind; endless combinations of merging both subtle and gross." He trailed off, deep in thought.

  "She won't give it up."

  "No," Balaran said, "I don't imagine she will. Have you seen enough?"

  I shrugged. There was nothing else to see. But there was plenty to think about. I thought about the value of stone that would have been consumed to make this thing, and came up with a pretty big number. It was a large investment to be just left here, abandoned. What had Tahal Samant said about the Grave? Family secret, too well kept and then more or less lost. And Jek had spoken of the Keeps in and around Battling Plain, the implication being that there were several artefacts like this, each granting a different power, each made by sorcerers of the city who had the knowledge of their full potential, though their secrets could be partly unlocked by study.

  "It's like the Grave," I said.

  Balaran didn't agree. "It's not a weapon."

  "Isn't it? Duprane made wolf-man mergings here that fought well enough. You could put an insect on the pattern in the Keep and give a man chitinous armor, mandibles," I spread my arms in an expansive shrug, "or any combination and degree you can imagine, yes?"

  "Maybe yes. You could make a monster or an invisible enhancement, say the bulk and muscle of a bear but no other feature. But only one at a time and only at set times. Not much of a weapon." He shrugged. "How long had Duprane lived here? Decades? How many mergings had she made with it? Not that many, not enough to be a threat to any but locals. As to who made it and why? It's a mystery."

  I didn't mention the Keeps and what I suspected of them. "Yes. It is."

  #

  I got the baths to myself. I like to think in the bath and prefer to do my thinking on my own. I soaked in the hot water for a while, easing the aches and looking forward to being thoroughly clean again. Riding hadn't hurt my inner thighs anywhere near as much as I'd been expecting. I was pretty much better. My wrist still ached but I could tolerate to use my hand so long as I didn't lift anything with any weight to it. I was healing nicely and content with that.

  After a while I let my mind drift over what I had achieved here so far. I was content, so far as it went. I was expecting more resistance to change than seemed to be happening, but thought I could let it develop and deal with it as it happened rather than attempt any pre-emptive action. People change but slowly and reluctantly. Let it happen in its own time as they saw their lives improve. Money was the key, for me as well as them. The rental income I would make from the new housing would always be there for me, once the initial investment was recouped. It wouldn't be enough for my purposes, not near enough. For serious money I needed to do more. I'd drive a road through the pass and improve trade before I left here, and make sure I got a good share of it. Trade in exactly what was what I considered next. I imagined the map that Caliran had given me, bringing up a picture of it and looking over it with a critical eye. There was lead, zinc, iron, copper, and gold, some of it close enough that I could be sure no one would contest the mining of it, and some doubtless already mined. To find out the scale and increase it would take time and investment; local crushers, separation and refining would be needed if it was to be viable as an industry. There was also slate to be investigated. So, an industry could be built around mining even if I had to hire craftsmen and bring them here; always better to move the craftsman to the raw material than the other way around. That would put some coin in my pocket and improve things here generally.

  The presence of slate irritated me. I'd seen it used on some few roofs and so knew it must be available. What irked me was that it was probably mined locally, worked locally, but too expensive for most people to put on their own roofs. Hence the prevalence of thatch that had seen Learneth burn so fiercely. It was often the way; the product made so much money when transported away from the local area that few who worked in the industry could afford to have what they made with their own hands. Ironic. The only way to solve the problem was to increase production so that the price fell.

  There was also peat to be had, and I wondered if it was known here that burning peat left a copper rich ash. Of course, I didn't know for sure that there was copper to be had this way, but I read about it somewhere and it was certainly worth investigating. I'd noticed peat being used as fuel, and guessed that the ash was ploughed into the fields. Worth checking, I decided. Depending on how much peat was available and from where.

  I'd decided to start personally hiring the people I'd need and was thinking about distance and increased costs and risks of transport and how long it would take to realise a return when the door opened and Anista came into the room.

  She didn't say anything; neither did I. She refused eye contact so I ducked my head under the water and came up purposefully to begin washing in earnest now there was a hint of a reason to be clean. As I washed I watched her organise hot water and drop her robe, her back to me. She began to lather herself without any hint of hurry in her movements. After a while I leaned back and watched, not having any pressing reason not to. The smile that came to my face wasn't the only thing that happened involuntarily. She lathered and rinsed and cleansed her body, clearly aware of me, more and more obviously putting on a show for me. By the time she decided she'd teased me enough and joined me in my bath, all without a word being spoken, I was more than ready for her.

  #

  I woke up in the night. Unusual. Sex usually puts me out like a candle.

  A scratching sound from the next room caught my attention and I eased out of bed. Candles had been lit. A glance out the window told me that the extra guard I had stationed there was missing, so I guessed what the scratching was and wasn't disappointed when I went through to the next room. Sapphire was there, writing something in the semi-dark.

  "You should have come through the door with a weapon in your hand," he said without looking up. "I was leaving you a note. I didn't intend to wake you, so it's good that you woke. But still, you should have come through the door with a weapon in your hand."

  "Where's the guard?" I kept my voice as low as he had.

  "Having a headache around the corner. He'll be fine."

  "It will stir things up when he comes to."

  "Good. They are getting complacent. Things need stirring up and you should always set a guard to watch the guard," he flipped the paper over as I came closer and started sketching. "Like this," he had broadly sketched the hall and a few surrounding buildings, then the walls. He marked crosses in several places. "Each guard is in the view of two others, no matter what. Someone is killing people in the night."

  "Apart from you."

  "Apart from me. I know he's there but I can't find him." He looked up and met my eyes and I could see how disturbed he was. Deadly serious. "It's the same someone who is snatching children. Nearly caught him at that, saved one at least. He has some agenda but I have no idea what. And he got away from me."

  Snatching children? "That worries you."

  "That he got away from me? It's a first. Can't say I'm liking it. Set the guards like this so that you are covered."

  "And you?"

  "There's work to do, and this child kidnapper to track. I can't do that and watch your back at the same time, not all the time. Set the guards, like this so that the hall is covered but just the hall; I want him feeling free to wander the night as usual so I can catch him."

  "Alive?"

  He looked thoughtful. "Maybe. I'm curious enough... and the why of what he's doing might be important."

  He got up and moved to the open doorway and gestured to the bed. "Are you sure that is a good idea?"

  It had seemed like it to me at the time and I told him so.

  "I think Jocasta was better for you."

  "Jocasta left."

  He just looked at me for a moment, like he was trying to figure out who I was. "I find that what people do is a little less important than why they do it. If you want to be able to guess what people are going to do,
then understanding their motives is a key to that. For example, you felt guilty about killing the men of Darklake in the woodland south of here. You feel guilty about the razing of Learneth, which is why you are here trying to make life better for the survivors. And you needed to ease the pain of rejection when Jocasta left, and there was an attractive and willing woman available for that. Now," he held up one hand to stop me protesting and I held back. "Now, examine Jocasta's motives for leaving."

  I couldn't. I had no idea what they were. "Anything else?"

  He shrugged off the edge to my voice, unimpressed. He pulled a small pouch from around his neck and passed it to me "What do you make of this?"

  I took the pouch; if I made a circle of my thumb and forefinger it would be about that size; small. A leather thing stuck out of the closed end, long enough to pass around someone's neck and hang at their breastbone. There was also a fine drawstring. I opened it, the movement giving rise to a soft shifting of broken glass from within. I peered inside anyway for confirmation. "Broken glass?"

  His expression was not one of approval. "A small glass sphere worn around the neck inside a pouch. Broken now, yes. But what was it when it wasn't broken?"

  I shrugged. "I'll take a look in the morning."

  "Good. If you arrange the guards the way I said, then I won't be able to get in here without killing your people, so I'll leave messages with the crazy old man who looks after the latrines. It's secure; no one listens to him anyway. Give him a coin and say 'this is from Sapphire' and he'll give you anything I've left there. You can leave notes for me with him also."

  I hadn't anything to say, so I said nothing. After a moment he left.

  There was no hope of sleep. Sapphire had named my motives, and I had been trying not to be much aware of them. I didn't want to think about any of that. Those decisions were made and done with. If I couldn't sleep, and didn't want to think, I'd better think of something better to do than stand in the dark and frown to myself. I decided a snap inspection of the guard was in order and pulled on some clothes. Anista didn't wake.