“I believe in my code, though. It’s still the only thing that makes sense,” Astrid replied.
“Of course, you do. The code of the Well is a most apt metaphor,” Vinnie acknowledged. “It is noble and just. But just like a map of the world is not the world, a metaphor for the truth is not the truth itself. Each of us understands this differently, which is why we are so far from home. It only stands to reason five seekers should find each other. It is a question of the mathematics of averages.”
“Well,” Astrid said, finally smiling. “I’m still uneasy, but I’m a lot more comfortable with my unease. It’s strangely calming to know the Dregs are lost and found at the same time.”
“I suppose my work is done, then,” Vinnie announced. He lifted her from her chair by the hand and gave her a bear hug that made her spine crackle. “Now, let me show you what we have discovered!”
Vinnie led her back down into the workshop. The workbenches in the center aisle were crowded with village scribes, blacksmiths, and craftspeople of all descriptions. People tinkered with mechanical objects or huddled over piles of paper engaged in furtive discussions that produced mad scribbling with ink pens and charcoal pencils.
Astrid gazed at complex mathematical formulas and intricate drawings illustrating things that boggled her mind.
“This place is busy,” Astrid remarked. “What is everyone working on?”
“Whatever their minds fancy,” Vinnie declared. “I built a place where people are free to explore questions they might not have the chance to ask elsewhere.”
“This sounds like something you’ve always wanted,” Astrid observed as he led her into a converted horse stall finished with polished wood.
A sturdy workbench with a metal tabletop stood in the dead center of the space.
Elise was there. Her nose nearly touched a stack of papers on which she marked down figures with a pencil, an abacus and a strange ruler with sliding sections and lines of numbers carved into its surface.
“Is that Astrid?” the girl asked, squinting up in her direction. In the bright, white light of magitech lamps, her eyes were crystal blue.
“Yes, it is,” Astrid said. She stepped closer so Elise could see her better. “What are you working on?”
“Teacher and I are attempting to qualify and quantify magical energy and the work it can produce.”
“Very good,” Astrid replied, having no idea what the girl was talking about.
Her eyes were drawn to a rectangular box made from thin copper panels. Several dials like those of a clock were set into one side. The device bristled with buttons, switches, and knurled knobs on its other sides. One of its ends had been removed to reveal a dense arrangement of thin copper wires, complex gear mechanisms, and tiny glowing gems.
“Is that the device Yarik used to hunt for amphoralds?” Astrid asked suspiciously.
“Yes, it is,” Vinnie replied. “It is sensitive to magical energy, so we are using it as a learning device. We don’t completely understand how it works, but it has taught us a great deal about magic.”
“That thing is evil,” Astrid stated. It was the same device operated by the man who sold weapons of destruction to those who intended violence against innocent people.
“A tool is only evil in the hands of evildoers,” Vinnie replied.
“I suppose so. I don’t have to like that thing, though. It’s got bad associations in my mind.”
“Fair enough,” Vinnie granted. “But this device proves magic is not some mystical force. It can be countered, measured, and observed directly. Just like air, Irth, fire, water, or lightning. It has physical properties.
“The Prophets of Ezekiel taught my great-grandparents Magic was the source of all life and that meditation, purification and a life devoted to justice allows some people to draw from it like water from a well.”
“Prophets?” Elise asked, putting down her pencil. “Some people here believe Magic was a gift from the Matriarch and Patriarch to the strong and worthy people who defend the land from evil.”
“My people have similar beliefs to this, Elise,” Vinnie added. “They believe the Matriarch and Patriarch showed certain people secrets about Irth and how specific vibrations can shape it to the will of the magician.”
Elise folded her slender, white arms across her chest. “The woods people never believed any of that hokum. We always thought magic users just made that stuff up to justify ruling over us like they’re better than everyone. You and Astrid are the first mages we ever met who act otherwise.”
“How can all these differences be explained?” Vinnie asked. “Why does the magic take so many forms? Why was the world so different before?”
“What do all those questions have to do with our situation now?” Astrid demanded.
Vinnie just smiled and reached under the table to retrieve a wire cage. Inside the cage, one of the creatures that had been attached to the remnant lay on a polished copper plate.
The creature had been precisely split down the middle. A web of copper wires of various thickness attached to thin needles had been inserted into the gray globs of the creature’s innards.
Astrid cringed at the sight.
Elise quickly moved her tools and papers to a side table. She adjusted dials and knobs on the copper box. Without words, Elise and Vinnie brought out more wires and connected them from wires on the cage to delicate structures inside the exposed mechanisms of the device.
It took a while, but Astrid stood there fascinated by the mysterious work. With a nod to Elise, Vinnie reached under the table again for another device very similar to the one on the bench.
“Switch on,” Vinnie said.
Elise flicked a tiny lever, and the first device whirred and ticked. The tiny gems inside flashed to life in colors of blue, red, and bright white.
Vinnie motioned Astrid closer and pointed out the second device. “This is a measuring tool for magical energy.”
Another nod from Vinnie and Elise flicked several more switches. She slowly turned a knob below one of the dials.
Astrid jumped back when the dead creature crackled with blue sparks of static electricity. One of its claws lifted straight into the air. The measuring device in Vinnie’s hands rattled and clacked as number dials ticked off digits.
“Increase the frequency,” Vinnie ordered. Elise complied with glee.
The beast cast off more sparks and the limbs lining the sides of its abdomen moved in a rhythmic motion.
“Second pulse,” Vinnie ordered. “Midrange frequency.”
Elise worked the mechanism expertly. She brought her face within inches of the machine to see its indicators, but she knew precisely what she was doing.
A red, metal flag popped up on Vinnie’s device. “OK, that’s it. Devices are synchronized. I’m sending the sequence.”
Vinnie twisted a dial that made a series of rapid clicks. When he let it go, it ticked like a clock. The creature didn’t look dead anymore. The corpse undulated as if it was swimming. The snot-like substance in its innards pulsed and bulged.
Soon, the wires attached to the cage started to smoke and glow. The creature sizzled like meat over a fire.
“Turn it off,” Vinnie ordered.
Elise shut her machine down, but the dials on Vinnie’s machine kept ticking off numbers. The dials spun and pulsed back and forth.
“Well,” Astrid said, folding her arms across her chest. “That was a fun trick. But what does it prove?”
“It proves a great many things,” Vinnie said with a broad smile. “Not the least of which is that magitech is ever so much fun.”
Astrid snorted laughter and shook her head. Vinnie was always good for a laugh, especially when it was sorely needed.
“But I assume you mean to ask what practical purpose this might serve?” Astrid nodded. “This is just the testing equipment. Soon, we will have instruments able to detect the specific energy given off by these creatures. If our theories are correct, we should be able to det
ect magic given off by the portal. We may even detect when a portal is about to form.”
“And I’m working on the calculations,” Elise exclaimed. She put the instruments back under the desk and returned to her papers and tools once again.
They left Elise to happily work on her math problems.
Astrid and Vinnie walked past two vehicles being dismantled by a crew of more than a dozen people led by a familiar face.
Astrid stopped short when she recognized Oscar. The bearded man wiped his hands on a rag and walked over to her when she called his name in greeting.
“You’re looking well,” she said, remembering how bruised his body was and how crazy he acted a few weeks prior during battle.
He laughed easily, “That’s exactly what Vinnie said. Thank you. I’m feeling much...saner these days.”
“Oscar just joined the Workshop, and he’s involved in numerous projects,” Vinnie explained. “He was the one who theorized the control beasties are artificial.”
Oscar shrugged. “Beginner’s luck. I was just a fresh set of eyes. Machines are my specialty. I’m studying these self-moving carts to figure out how to make more of them.”
“Don’t wear yourself out,” Astrid advised. “The more I see of the Workshop, the more I realize the importance of this work.”
Oscar paused and searched for words to express the depth of his gratitude. “Thank you,” he finally said, then turned back to his work.
“See you soon, Vinnie,” Astrid said. “I have to go oversee the shift change for the guard watching Charlie. I’ve got a hundred Movers on the job, but I’m still nervous. That portal could open anywhere at any time.”
“Well,” Vinnie replied. “I hope to have that detector in a usable form soon.”
“Just make sure you get some rest, too. We need you sharp and ready.”
“I’m always sharp and ready,” Vinnie replied with a twirl of his handlebar mustache.
Chapter Thirteen
Back to the Quarter
Gormer and Mortsen timed their trip to arrive in the quarter well after dark. Dusk was considered the beginning of the business day for most people there.
“You sure you don’t want to create an illusion? Too many people know you now.” Mortsen asked as he dismounted Boy and handed the reins to the old, toothless stableman.
“Here ya go, Nick.” Mortsen slipped him three full-coins.
“It’s better they know me,” Gormer said. “I want them to know Astrid is behind this.”
“You brought your tough friend with you again,” Nick snickered, casting a gray-lipped smile at Gormer. “Hoo-hoo, oh no!”
He made a mock display of fear at Gormer, who rolled his eyes and dismissed the old coot.
“Yeah,” Mortsen said. “I’m gonna need you to keep Boy here until I get back. I don’t want him wandering this time.”
“I only got so many sugar lumps,” Nick complained. “Can’t bribe a horse like this forever.”
“He likes older women,” Mortsen said, pointing to Gormer’s mature mare. “That’ll keep him around just fine.” The bulky man pointed his finger at Boy. “You stay here,” he ordered firmly.
Boy bared his teeth and scraped the ground with his hooves.
Gormer burst out laughing as his eyes suddenly turned milky white. “I felt a strong emotion from him,” he said. “He just told you the horse equivalent of ‘go fuck yourself.’”
“I mean it, Boy. I’m gonna need you. Don’t be like that.” He gave Boy’s neck a good scratching before he and Gormer walked away.
Boy immediately turned his charms to the old mare.
“Maybe if you call him by his horse name,” Gormer suggested casually.
Mortsen stopped dead in his tracks. He rounded on Gormer sharply with an unguarded look of surprise, his enthusiasm was nearly childlike. “You know his horse name?”
Gormer couldn’t hide the smirk. “Yeah,” he answered. “It loosely translates into something like ‘runner who hates carrying ugly assholes.’”
“Slimy goat rectum,” Mortsen grumbled, returning to his normal gruff persona. He stomped along clenching and unclenching his calloused hands.
“Sorry to crush your dreams,” Gormer replied.
“Couldn’t do that even if I had any, fuckwit.”
Gormer pushed past Mortsen. “Not that way.” He navigated the alley, turning them toward the water.
They trekked deeper into the Quarter toward the lake where docks, canneries, and warehouses dominated the architecture. Here is where trade came in from villages near the lake further to the northeast.
“Are you going where I think you’re going?” Mortsen asked.
“Why don’t you ask me where I’m going, and I’ll tell you?”
“Are you taking us to Faleena’s?”
“Why do you ask?”
Gormer ducked the fist that whooshed past his head and quickened his pace.
“The place smells like a fish barrel,” Mortsen complained.
“So does Faleena,” Gormer replied. “And also, it is a fish barrel.”
The dive bar was attached to the back of a wholesale fish market and cannery. The set up allowed the Fishermen to sell their catch, get the catch processed, then drink away their profits all in the same place. Gormer suspected Faleena was a genius.
It was also a hub for smugglers, thieves, gamblers, and anyone who wanted to contact the wrong people.
They headed downhill on a cobblestone street that ended on an expansive pier stretching far into the lake. Faleena’s operation took half the pier, and less than half of that space was devoted to anything remotely related to fishing.
They passed clusters of men and women huddled together smoking various herbs and passing bottles. A few dice games were in progress along the low ledge of the retaining wall that only sometimes prevented drunks from falling into the lake.
Gormer turned his face away from people so they wouldn’t see his eyes glowing white as he scanned them.
“Couple people are watching us,” Gormer told Mortsen in a low voice as they headed to an unmarked door flanked by two flickering oil lamps.
Three burly men and a woman nearly as tough-looking as Astrid peeled off from a group nearby.
“You got business here?” the woman demanded. Her black leather armor creaked as she shifted her ample hips to one side and propped her hand upon her belt—conveniently close to a short sword.
“Same business as anyone else thirsty for a drink and hungry for a dice game,” Gormer replied.
“Funny,” the woman said. “We’re here on business, too.” The two bull-like men behind her stepped closer to the woman, making her the tip of an arrow. “We’re looking to run a job to catch us a giant. We’re gonna need a big crew. You interested?”
Gormer produced his smarmiest smile and cheerfully said, “You must be dumb as a severed fish head to ask me something like that. I know you know who I am.”
“Gormer…” Mortsen moaned as they all reached for their weapons.
Gormer’s eyes glowed bright white. He didn’t flinch as the woman’s arm started to draw the blade.
Gormer relaxed into the new magical ability that allowed him to perceive emotion. To him, their anger looked like a red cloud. Tonight, he wanted to try something new. He had only done it once before to save the life of a friend.
Fear me, Gormer thought casually as he calmly observed the hostile motions directed at him.
The woman gasped. The two men made choking noises. Their faces turned cadaverously pale. One of the men wet his pants. Gormer watched black snakelike tendrils extend from someplace behind the man’s head.
The cirrus snaked around their heads, surrounded their necks and sank into their chests.
“Run,” Gormer whispered.
They didn’t hesitate. They bolted for the end of the pier.
“Stop,” Mortsen hissed. “They’ll drown in that armor.”
Gormer released the magic just before the gr
oup reached the end of the dock.
“I guess I got carried away,” Gormer replied with a satisfied grin.
Mortsen grabbed his arm when he went to push open the door. “You learned that from the Reachers, didn’t you?”
“Sure did,” Gormer replied, trying to sound nonchalant. The look in Mortsen’s eyes made that difficult.
“Gonna tell you this once,” Mortsen growled. He gritted his teeth and made a sour face. “As your friend. Don’t use that type of magic unless you absolutely must, OK? I mean it, and you need to trust me on that. It’s not for you. You won’t like where it takes you. You’ve come too far for that.”
The look of genuine concern in his eyes disarmed Gormer completely. “OK, Mortsen.” He rested his hand on Mortsen’s ironlike forearm. “I won’t. I promise. On our friendship.”
Mortsen breathed a bit easier. “Let’s go, kid. We got work to do. Try to be less of a rat sack, and we might just get somewhere.”
It took Gormer a few seconds to adjust to the light. But before that happened, his magical senses took over, and he had a moment when all he saw were swirling halos of emotion. Red, orange, violet, and black striated clouds of color made him jerk back a step.
Mortsen grabbed his wrist. “You understand why I told you what I did now. You with me?”
Gormer grunted his assent and shook his head to try and clear it.
“Easy,” Mortsen chortled. “You’re gonna snap your neck off. Let’s get you some ale to settle you down.”
They headed across the rough planks covered in sawdust toward the bar set in the center of the warehouse. The tavern was vast—possibly a hundred feet on a side. Gormer could barely make out the back wall separating the drinking section from the maze-like compartments that accommodated various delights from bedrooms to game rooms to smoking chambers.
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