by John Booth
“But sexual prowess in a wife is also highly prized, so we are taught in school all the ways to satisfy a man. We watch moving images of couples performing. Then we are trained to emulate them. To be the perfect whore. Did I learn my lessons well?”
I could only nod. She was right. I knew exactly nothing about her.
“You were more pleasurable than I expected. But then you tossed me aside for Lana, having first taken from me the only thing my society regards as valuable.”
There was only one answer to that and it was inadequate.
“I’m sorry.”
“It makes no difference now. You chose Lana over me and yet in all those weeks together have you learnt anything about her?”
“She feels naked without her sword.”
Esta laughed. It was a bitter sound.
“Lana was brought up in a rich and powerful family. Her father owns half a planet, cities, rivers, mountains, and farm land. Flying as fast as the fastest bird it would take you months to cross his lands at their shortest side. Hers is a technological society, ordered, regimented, controlled. People only talk to others of their own station. Magic is regarded in the same way my society sees prostitution.”
“How do you know all this about her?”
Esta laughed wearily. “I asked.”
“And what should I know about Jeram?” He would probably turn out to be Gandalf come to take the one ring to Mordor. Nothing was going to surprise me today.
“He loves his wife and has never been unfaithful to her.”
I felt the dig in that.
“There are tattoos all over his body. They provide him with additional magic, though he has never explained how or what they do. He came to the university because his wife is a more powerful mage than him and he wants to catch up with her. Not to rival her, but so she will think more of him. They are both academics and knowledge is everything to both of them.”
“What’s her name?” Maybe Esta wasn’t completely all knowing.
“Fane.”
Darn it.
“And this is why the lot of you used Lana’s sword on me? Because I didn’t ask you the right questions?”
Esta’s eyes went wide again, as though I’d missed the point.
“Not because you did not ask, but because you did not care. We are just things to be used on the way to your goal.”
I didn’t want to think about that and my mind slid away from the idea. Me, arrogant? As if? Best to change the subject.
“Did you wonder how I found a way to defeat the bracelets? It was when the Bomber attacked me at the Dragon Embassy. Fluffy, well his proper name is Retnor, was trapped in the rubble and trying to move it off him would have killed him. So I had to find a way to hop him free.”
Esta stared at me and I saw the streaks tears had made.
“Was he badly injured?”
“I’m a good healer, but I didn’t have enough power. I hopped him to the world where the dragons meet and one of the Dragon Elders and Issus of the Zelphi helped.”
“Who are the Zelphi?” Esta asked as Lana and Jeram reappeared.
“The Zelphi are a mythical race of Gods,” Jeram said. “Or more correctly, we have always believed them to be mythical.”
“A bit like Dragons, at least on my world,” Lana added. She had changed into clothing identical to my own, except the shirt was bigger across the chest. Much like the clothing she had been wearing at university. She had brought a small bag with her.
Thinking of Issus raised a question I’d been meaning to ask.
“Have any of you heard of the Great Destroyer?”
Three gasps suggested they had.
36. Bellweather
We left the warehouse at five minute intervals. I went first because I needed to get away from the others before I revealed something I would regret. The Great Destroyer was pretty much Satan in my companions eyes, destroyer of worlds, killer of billions, the one who would take away the lights in the sky. But Issus had called me the Great Destroyer and I didn’t want to tell them that. Maybe she had been referring to some other Great Destroyer? In a multiverse of infinite universes there must be more than one.
The warehouse was in an industrial district in a world that had no clean air laws. The walls of the warehouses were covered in soot and the air smelled of sulfur and coal tar. I once visited a foundry that stank like this place, but I’d never experienced it out in the open air.
It was morning in Bellweather, and the cobbled streets echoed with shouts and the sound of iron shod hooves on cobbles. Most of the buildings had large wooden double doors big enough to take a horse pulling a wagon and that was what most of them were being used for. I had to press against the wall when a wagon, laden with barrels went past; it was that or be crushed by it.
A man shouted at me. I shook my head as if I couldn’t hear and set off toward him, pretending to stumble so I could reach out and touch his hand. That was all it took to learn his language.
“Are you one of the new stevedores?” he asked.
“I’m just on my way into town.”
“You look useful. Like you can handle yourself and do some real work. We have boxes of vegetables to load. Would you be interested in a job?”
It was tempting, but getting to the center of the city was more important.
“Not really.”
“If you help load a wagon the driver will give you a lift into town. It’ll be faster than walking.”
So I ended up being a warehouse man for an hour. Not that I was unfamiliar with the job. It was much like the work I did for Mr. Griffiths in the woodyard. Move some boxes from A to B and stack them up so they wouldn’t fall off the wagon. The man who gave me the job and the driver helped out, so the wagon was loaded in no time.
As I sat alongside the driver at the front of the wagon with two carthorses pulling us I wondered whether this was my true vocation. It certainly felt comfortable and familiar, and there’s satisfaction in doing simple physical work.
“If you help me unload at the other end, there’ll be money in it for you,” the driver told me. He was a dried up sort of man, more wrinkles than features if you know what I mean.
“Do you do this run often?”
He uttered something between a bark and a laugh.
“Since I was twelve. Getting difficult to get men to work at it these days. Too many fancy jobs in the building trade or in the steelworks.”
“People will always need vegetables.”
That brought another bark of laughter and then we sat in silence, a silence only broken when the driver found reason to curse his horses.
As we approached the center of the city the streets became wider. Trees lined some of them, though most looked sickly as if the air was sucking the life out of them. The street led us to a massive steel bridge crossing the dirtiest river I have ever seen. Just before we got to the bridge, a smaller newer road branched down to the river’s edge where it ended in a steel girder frame. Most of the wagons headed that way and then appeared to drive straight into the river.
The driver spat. “Give me a bridge made from sweat and steel any day. You won’t catch me going that way.”
True to his word we carried on up the road to the bridge. As we passed the frame I could see through it to a similar road on the other side of the river. It was a chain bridge.
“They charge a shilling to go through it. This bridge is free.”
“Not a big fan of magic, me,” I said sympathetically.
The driver grunted and spat on the road.
On the other side of river, the air was cleaner and for the first time the sun showed through the smog. The buildings were newer and the street bustled with activity. We entered an open air market and the driver took a side street that curved behind the market to where dozens of similar wagons were parked alongside a loading bay.
“You’re late, Josh” a red faced man shouted as we backed the wagon into an empty loading slot.
“Can’t g
et the workers,” my driver shouted back.
“What’s he then?” the man asked, pointing at me. “You his new girlfriend?”
Some of the unloaders looked up at this and chuckled.
“I’m just lending a helping hand.”
Getting down from the wagon I went to the rear and picked up a couple of boxes. “Where do you want them?”
When we finished, Josh gave me a small gold coin and a couple of copper ones.
“You can come back anytime. We always need good workers,” he said as we shook hands.
I wandered around the market and tried to get a feel for the place. Some of the buildings were six or seven stories high and for the price of one of the copper coins I was allowed to visit the flat roof of the tallest. There were lots of other people up there, which suggested that Bellweather had discovered tourism.
Looking down, I saw wagons heading back out of the city. I used magic to zoom in on them and spotted Josh as he drove his wagon onto the bridge.
Curls of magic enveloped the piers of the bridge. I would never have seen it using normal sight. The bridge began to sway and groan. People pushed at either side of me as the tourist converged to watch the drama unfold.
“It’s going to collapse,” someone said unnecessarily. Around fifty wagons were on the bridge and the drivers were urging their horses to trot if not to gallop. It was supposed to be one lane each side, but the driver behind Josh cut across into the other lane and sideswiped Josh’s wagon as he went past, breaking one of the wagon’s wheels. The crowd gasped as the steel frame of the bridge began to buckle and collapse.
I hopped to the wagon and grabbed hold of it. It was still moving; one axle grinding on the road surface and that gave me enough momentum to hop the wagon, horses and Josh back to the warehouse where we had loaded up. I calmed the horses with a touch and turned to find Josh staring at me.
“Witchcraft,” he said white faced. Then he spat at me.
I didn’t stop to argue with him. Instead, I hopped back to the warehouse.
Lana was the only one back. She was wearing new clothes and looking pleased with herself.
“The tensions between magic and technology remind me of home. Only chain bridges are accepted here and even then there have been riots in the ship building industry and on the railways after they are installed.”
“Any reports of magic being used to sabotage them?” I asked.
“Not that I saw. It’s the magic users getting all the attacks for being cheaper than the traditional transport systems. Why do you ask?”
“I just saw someone using magic to destroy a large bridge.”
“The wizards here don’t have that kind of capability,” Lana said with certainty.
“Then I guess we have found Dafydd,” I replied and hopped back to the viewing platform.
Nobody noticed me arrive. All attention was focused on the massive bridge lying on its side in the river. The river was breaking it up with surprising speed and downstream river traffic was pulling for the banks as chunks of roadway floated towards them.
“It was magic that did it,” one of the women said.
“Murderers. They should be hung and have their heads chopped off, that’ll teach them.”
“Drowned,” another suggested. “You have to drown witches or they come back to haunt you.”
Dafydd might still be somewhere nearby watching the scene and that was why I had returned. I scanned the tops of buildings that would have a good view of the bridge. There were a lot of people watching from them, but none of them seemed to be Dafydd.
I paid particular attention to any of them who showed traces of magical ability. In magic sight, all magic users give some sign of what they are. There were a few out there, including the woman who had said that magic did it. She had most probably seen the magic forces that would be invisible to the ordinary people. I hoped the others on the roof wouldn’t realize that.
The crowd on the roof slowly dispersed. I stayed up there scanning the buildings until the light began to fade. Wherever Dafydd was, he wasn’t out there now.
It was dark when I returned to the warehouse. The others had lit oil lamps which glowed a reassuring yellow.
“You didn’t catch him?” Jeram asked.
“No sign of him. I think he left as soon as he finished destroying the bridge.”
Esta frowned. “You could have caught him. You were there when it started.”
“I had to rescue a friend.”
“You don’t have any friends here,” Lana pointed out.
It was a fair point and probably truer than she had intended.
“I’m sure you’re right, but I still had to save him and his horses.”
37. Reactions
We converted the warehouse into four rooms. I embellished mine with a wet room as I needed to take a shower. There are only so many times you can clean yourself with magic before the desire to use real water becomes overwhelming. A door formed on a pristine wall and somebody knocked.
“Come in.”
The door opened and Lana entered. She seemed unusually reticent considering how much time we had spent together.
“Jake, can I interest you in a gun?”
She held out what looked like a pistol. When I took it I found it was barely bigger than my palm though it was surprisingly heavy. I shook my head and tried to hand it back to her, but she stepped away.
“I’m not really a weapons man.”
“It’s from home, intelligent bullets.”
Well, I had to ask. No one could have resisted it.
“High explosive with variable effect shaped charges. The bullet knows how far it is from the gun and makes sure you will not get injured by the blast. It directs all of its energy into the target Fired from a few yards away it will kill whoever it hits, wherever it hits them. Our police use them.”
Not a police force you wanted mad at you.
“Then why do you carry a sword?”
She pulled a second gun from her pocket. “These are impersonal and very messy. When I cut someone’s head off with a sword I can avoid the splatter.”
I tossed the gun back to her and she caught it deftly in her left hand. Now she had two guns and both were pointing at me.
“Are you sure you don’t want one? Sometimes the physical can be far more effective than the magical. Esta has taken two.”
I sighed and flopped onto the bed. Last night I had hopped to the Bat Cave, but tonight I was going to stay here. Going to Jenny would have started up another competition with Esmeralda and I wasn’t sure we had squared things up after the last one. Always better to avoid getting Esmeralda riled up, even if it meant taking a sacrifice.
“You are staying here tonight? Do your wives tire of you?”
“Are you spending the night back home?” I responded.
“Not now.” She began to open her shirt, starting with the top button.
“I need to sleep.”
She stopped. “Did it upset you when I hit you? You deserved it.”
“No.” That wasn’t it at all. “I found out I don’t really know you.”
“And whose fault is that?”
She hopped without waiting for a reply, which was fortunate because I didn’t have one.
I took a shower and luxuriated in the warm water spraying over me. Esta was standing by the wet room door when I turned around.
“How could you do that to Lana?”
She sounded angry.
“I thought you didn’t want me to sleep with her?” I felt suddenly vulnerable, naked with water dripping off me.
“Not for that reason. We are going to her home and don’t you dare follow us.”
And I was alone in the wet room again, not at all sure about what was going on. Why had she come to tell me? Why would I follow them, even if I could? Both of them were capable of covering their trail in hop space. I gave up and used magic to dry myself before hopping onto the bed.
When I dissolved my room next mo
rning I found the rest of the warehouse already restored to its previous state. Esta and Jeram hopped into the room, each carrying two mugs. Esta handed one of hers to Lana who took it gratefully.
Jeram offered me one of his mugs.
“Fresh from home and made with Fane’s fair hand,” he said happily.
I took the mug and tasted the dark liquid it held. The drink was even better than the scent it gave off. I made a mental note to find out what it was when I got the chance. Salice needed better brews than the herbal tea they usually drank.
Esta and Lana sat close together and pointedly ignored me.
“Does anybody have an idea of how to find Dafydd?” I asked.
“Can we agree to call him the Bomber?” Lana asked. “You make him sound like an old friend.”
“If the Bomber is taking an active hand in the magic versus technology dispute, we might be able to track him through the actions he’s taken,” Jeram offered.
I shook my head. “I know him well enough to know he’s paranoid. All we’ll discover is how much damage he’s done.”
Lana reluctantly raised her eyes to look at me. “We might see a pattern and predict the Bomber’s next move.”
I waved that idea away as it was rubbish.
“He’s writing a thesis on this culture. He’ll be all over the city today taking notes. We should try and catch him.”
Esta stood up and glared at me. “That is a stupid idea, Jake, even for you. There are millions of people in the city. What chance would we have of finding him? I vote we go to the city library and try out Jeram’s idea. At least his makes sense.”
I stood, anger rising. “Go on then. Do what you want. I’m searching the city for Dafydd.”
Not waiting for a reply I hopped to the viewing platform, which was empty of people. It was still early in the morning and smog hung over the city. I couldn’t see the remnants of the bridge, let alone the river.
Staring into the pale yellow mist I began to calm down. Once my anger was gone I saw I’d been stupid. They were right and I was wrong. What chance did I have of finding Dafydd if I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of my own face? I couldn’t understand why I had been so angry with them.
