Pathfinder Tales--Gears of Faith

by Gabrielle Harbowy

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  Copyright Page

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  To Dad, for the Car Games. Playing Star Wars pilot-and-navigator together showed me that make-believe wasn’t something I was required to outgrow.

  To my teacher, Austin “Larry” Lawrence, for introducing his third-grade class to these amazing worlds.

  To Ed Greenwood, for encouraging me to navigate them.

  Inner Sea Region

  Absalom

  1

  DON’T EAT THE MESSENGER

  ZAE

  Once upon a time, there was in the city of Vigil a brave young man named Darrin, of whom all the bards sang. For Darrin had slain a powerful demon lord, tamed a savage dragon, and deposed a corrupt and evil king—all before lunchtime.”

  Zae—gnome, healer, devotee to the goddess Brigh—paused to blow a stray azure-blue curl out of her eyes. Her audience of one looked as proud as a boy could look with his face still red and puffy from crying. He listened with rapt attention, gaze fixed on the metal ring through Zae’s lower lip. When she’d gotten it, years ago and after her ears had filled up with similar rings from lobe to tip, she hadn’t thought it would come in handy as a distractor of young patients, but between the shiny metal that moved when she spoke and the tale she was weaving, Darrin was barely aware of her hands or the sturdy pliers she lifted from her tray of tools.

  “And so it was that, on his way home from these noble deeds, the victorious hero’s thoughts were full of knighthood and glory and jewels. Thus was one last foe, a fierce serpent with fangs of iron, able to sneak up on our hero unawares. Oh, the viper’s fangs did sting, but they were no match for the knight, who steeled up his courage and pulled out the fang on the count of three.”

  She paused to meet young Darrin’s eyes, and he nodded gravely.

  “One…” Zae said. “Two…” She pulled hard with the pliers and the nail slid out with protest, leaving an angry wound behind. Abandoning the pliers and nail on her tray, she took the boy’s foot between both her hands, whispering a prayer. Before Darrin’s mind could catch up, before he could gather his breath to scream, Brigh’s divine blessing was already flowing through Zae’s hands and into the wound.

  “Three.”

  The wail died in Darrin’s throat and his expression turned perplexed. This was Zae’s favorite part of healing: the part where the body was expecting pain and preparing to react to it, then found itself tense with energy that suddenly had nowhere to go. For the split second before they relaxed, patients always made the most spectacular faces.

  Zae beamed at her brave young charge and offered her hand to help him down from the examination table, murmuring thanks to Brigh under her breath. Darrin landed solidly on both feet and tested his weight, still expecting pain where there was none. Then he beamed back. At age seven he was already taller than Zae—who, as a gnome, stood barely more than a regal three feet—and he seemed to be enjoying the novelty of that, too.

  When the two emerged from the treatment room into the parlor, Darrin ran to his aunt for a tight hug. “Look, Strella! It’s all better!”

  “Please, let me give you something for your trouble.” Strella, barely more than a child herself, handed Darrin his shoes and reached for her coin purse. “And for not telling his parents about this. They trusted me to mind him.”

  Zae shook her head and lifted her hand, displaying the shield marked on her right palm. “I took the oath to protect and defend citizens of Vigil. I heal all Oathbound—and their children—free of charge. And of course I’ll protect you, too, and not mention this to Arrin and Dora … this time.”

  The girl’s arm tightened around her nephew’s shoulders. It said a lot about Strella’s upbringing that Zae’s assurances only seemed to make her more uncertain—as though silence offered freely was a weaker thing than silence bought.

  “Have you been in Vigil long?” Zae asked on a hunch, and wasn’t surprised when the girl shook her head.

  “No, in fact. I was raised in—what’s that noise?”

  It was an odd name for a town, Zae thought, but when she listened for it, she could indeed hear a noise. Clanking and whirring filtered in from the front yard, interspersed with the energetic growls that meant Appleslayer, Zae’s dog, was happily at play.

  Zae followed her young patient and his aunt out the front door of what had once been her home and clinic both, and was now just the latter. She lived a few streets away now, with Keren, and had kept her treatment room apart from their lodgings at Keren’s request. The day they’d adopted Appleslayer, Keren had come home to find Zae doing surgery on him in Keren’s kitchen, and after that a line had been drawn.

  Appleslayer was a sled dog breed, pure white with a black nose and black lips that made him look like he was perpetually smiling. He was large for a dog, and sturdily built, prompting Keren to remark that Zae could practically ride him. Zae, in response, had tried to clamber up on his back. The dog surprised them both: upon accepting a rider, his whole bearing transformed from a playful tail-wagging companion into a serious mount ready for direction. He’d been trained for this, it seemed, and that had settled the matter.

  Like Zae, Appleslayer was full of energy. True to his breed, the dog was always eager to pull a sleigh through a blizzard; more specifically, this dog was always ready to run, to attack a bushel of unattended fruit, or to carry his gnome into battle. The fence couldn’t have kept him in if he’d wanted to leave, but he was content with his new life and seemed happy to have his own patch of grass to bound around in. He’d already been fully grown into his sturdy feet and rounded ears when Zae had found him a year before, but he still had a puppy’s ever-present desire to play.

  At the moment, he was rearing up on his hind feet and pouncing with a happy bark, the way a fox might leap on a mouse. His prey glinted bronze in the afternoon sun, and as Zae moved closer she could see that he’d caught some sort of little clockwork construction, only about a quarter as tall as Zae herself.

  “What’s he got, Aunt Strella?” Darrin asked. Zae was wondering the same thing.

  Strella took Darrin’s hand and steered him to the front walk. “Whatever it is, I’m sure Miss Zae can handle it.” She glanced up at the midday sun and then at the gnome.

  Zae had seen that sort of glance before. “Absolutely. Go on home before anyone knows you’ve been gone.”

  Zae took a seat on the front step and whistled, then snapped her fingers next to her ankle. “Bring it over.” Her tone, while not angry, left no room for argument. The big white dog got to his feet, trotted over to the gnome, and obediently dropped his prey into her lap. It was a bronze orb, dented by his strong jaws and slick with dog slobber. Machi
nery was visible through the hole that had previously connected it to the parts now strewn through the grass.

  “Good boy!” Zae shifted the orb into one hand so that she could pet Appleslayer’s head with the other—and casually wipe her hand dry on his thick fur. He nuzzled her fingers for a moment, then sat back and looked at her expectantly. “Go on,” she said, and he scampered off. When he’d retrieved another piece, he flung it skyward with a snap of his neck and immediately bounded off after it, catching the severed mechanical arm before it could hit the ground.

  Rubbing Appleslayer’s head hadn’t done much to help the state of Zae’s hand. If anything, it had made matters worse, adhering white fur to her damp fingers. It was just as well; this was a job to take to her workshop, anyway, and she could dry the object properly there.

  The workshop was the other room attached to the sitting room. It had been her bedroom once, but was now given over to tools, metal, and gears. As befitting a cleric of Brigh, the goddess of clockwork and constructs, Zae’s personal philosophy dictated that living things and machines had much in common: they had a peak operating condition at which everything ticked along smoothly, but sometimes things happened—whether accident, injury, illness, or just normal wear and tear—that made their performance less than optimal. Engineering and healing, then, were much the same for Zae. Even though they sometimes employed different tools, they were both about fixing what was broken.

  Zae appreciated the aesthetic of orderly clutter, but she preferred to keep her workshop optimized in a tidy fashion. Tools were arranged by function, and parts were stored in drawers along the walls. Rather than interrupt her work to walk to a cabinet and back, she had created a track for her worktable so that it could always be nearest to the appropriate tools. A complex pulley system could also raise the table to the higher shelves, while a rolling ladder and extendable platforms at any shelf could do the same for Zae. That system still needed some refining, though, and was rarely used: Appleslayer had discovered that he could release the brake with a paw and herd Zae’s ladder around the room, so alternate anchoring technology was the next project in her queue.

  A thick cloth was sufficient to dry the clockwork head, and after a brief examination Zae clamped it down and set to work on it. Its construction spoke of quality and skill, and tiny maker’s marks had been struck into each piece, perfectly aligned and consistent. The gears were milled precisely, each tooth the same as every other, and the soldering was all but invisible from the polished exterior.

  Jammed inside was a thin metal tube, spring-loaded to pop out of the top of the little machine’s head. Zae had already had her suspicions as to the construct’s origin and purpose, but now anticipation fluttered in her stomach.

  The tube’s compartment was supposed to be cylindrical, but Appleslayer’s jaws had rearranged things more than a bit. It was the sort of intriguing puzzle Zae loved. Carefully, she removed each component and dismantled the head, taking copious notes and labeling each piece. In less than an hour, the dented tube was in her hands. Inside, as Zae had hoped, was a crisp parchment scroll held closed with a golden waxlike seal in the shape of a gear.

  Zae held it, stretching out the moment before discovery.

  “I’m not going to ask what Apple’s playing with out there.” Keren’s contralto voice was music to Zae’s ears. She spun, grinning up at her knight, who lounged in the doorway with her arms lightly crossed. It was later than she thought, if Keren had already removed her white-and-gold armor, bathed, and changed into a casual tunic and breeches. Her shoulder-length brown hair was mussed and still damp. She had an easy bearing, and what Zae thought of as a young and gentle soul in a warrior’s solid body, all muscle and efficient planes, as if her build itself had no tolerance for the extravagance of curves. Even her chin was no squarer or more pointed than it had to be. Only her lips showed a sensual fullness, and the honey color of her eyes seemed to brighten when she smiled. Keren had been a soldier all her life, and Zae rejoiced quietly to herself whenever she succeeded at drawing out Keren’s playful side.

  “He’s playing with the construct that brought this.” Zae held up the scroll, wiggling it. “I think this is what I think it is!”

  Keren crouched beside Zae to meet her at eye level and offered her hand, which Zae took and squeezed. “You haven’t opened it yet?”

  “I was savoring the uncertainty.”

  Keren laughed and leaned in, nosing soft blue hair aside and nipping Zae on the gently rounded tip of her ear. “Come on, Pixie. Let’s see it.”

  Zae took a slow breath, eased the seal up without breaking it, and unfurled the scroll, holding it for them both to see. Too excited to read the whole thing at once, she skimmed for the words “Clockwork Cathedral” and “accepted,” and relaxed only when she found them. She turned toward Keren with a fierce hug and a happy kiss. “Praise the Bronze Lady and her mysterious ways! Now we’ll both be studying in Absalom.”

  “Congratulations! This couldn’t have been more timely. Tonight we celebrate. First thing tomorrow, we pack.”

  A couple months prior, Keren had requested a transfer to Absalom for advanced training—the Knights of Ozem had a large presence there, with both a church of Iomedae and a training hall for paladins, knights, and their companion steeds. Keren had trained Appleslayer in the art of combat as well as she could, but her experience was with training horses, not dogs; along with Keren’s own studies, the sturdy sled dog was also to receive advanced battle training. As for Zae, she could settle in anywhere, since healers were always in short supply, so she’d have been happy to move with Keren no matter the destination. Attending Absalom’s prestigious Clockwork Cathedral, however, had been a dream of hers for years, so she had seized the opportunity to apply. An academy for artificers, clockmakers, and constructors of constructs, it was the best institution of its kind in the entire world. Anyone could request to attend, but the cathedral was selective about its applicants; its admissions standards were mysterious but rigorous.

  “It says there’s a whole group dedicated to crafting healing devices. I’ve never been part of a group before!”

  “I’m so proud of you.” Keren shifted and pulled Zae closer, rewarding her with another, more serious kiss, toying with the brass ring in Zae’s lower lip. It seemed the celebrating part of their evening had begun.

  * * *

  After the first round of celebrations in Zae’s workshop, they had adjourned home for an evening meal and more celebrating. The gnome always rose early; after her morning prayers, she peeked her head into the bedroom. Keren’s soft brown hair was still splayed across her pillow, and blankets hid the rest of her.

  “You’re going to be late,” Zae admonished. “The day’s going to save itself without you.”

  Keren murmured something unintelligible and rolled onto her back, squinting up at Zae for just a moment before letting her eyes flutter closed again. “Today waits for no woman. All right.” She sat up, if reluctantly, and stretched. “Are you packed?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Mm. Then hurry. I’ve got prayers and drills this morning, and we’re to meet the Precentor of Magic at noon.”

  Zae blinked. “Is there something I’m missing?”

  “Last night, I said you’d need to pack today.”

  “Well, yes…”

  “Because we need to leave today.”

  Zae blinked again. “I’m sure I’d have remembered that part.”

  Keren swung her feet out of bed and drew Zae into her arms. With Keren seated, they were nearly the same height. “We were celebrating. I didn’t want to burst the mood.” She drew back. “But we need to leave today. There’s been a strange buzz around the order. Something big is going on, people are on alert, and the Watcher-Lord himself wants me in Absalom sooner rather than later. So soon that he’s arranged for the precentor to teleport us over.”

  Zae felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach. “I’ve never been teleported before. Don’t they reserve th
at for extreme situations?”

  “They do. It’s an honor that they’re offering it to us.”

  “Is it that the roads and seas are unsafe, or…?”

  Keren shrugged. “I don’t know. Be ready when I get back, and we’ll find out.”

  Zae made a face. “I guess that means we don’t have time for more celebrating?”

  Keren offered Zae a hand. Their fingers entwined, bringing together the matching rings they wore—Keren’s inheritance from her father. “Or it means we can get back to celebrating sooner.” Keren squeezed her fingers. “This is the start of something new for both of us. I love how cozy our life is, but we haven’t had a new adventure in a while.”

  Zae hesitated. “Not to break the mood, but after Ennis…” When Keren and Zae had quested to the Worldwound to find Keren’s estranged brother and tell him of his father’s passing, they had arrived too late to save him from the demonplague. “Failing Ennis—failing you—was the worst new experience I’ve ever had. I do crave novelty, it’s true, but recovering from that and making a cozy life together has been my adventure. It’s what we’ve both needed, I think.”

  “Yeah,” Keren murmured into Zae’s shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about that too.”

  “Then let’s put failing behind us, and embrace whatever comes next.” Zae untangled her fingers slowly, not wanting the contact to end. “Which for you is getting dressed for prayers and training, and for me is packing and closing up shop for a while. Let me know when you’re ready for me to play squire.”

  To Zae, packing was not an ordeal, but a fascinating challenge. Her machining supplies and completed gadgets were the most obvious necessities, of course, so they went into her pack first.

  She paused with a hand on her surgeon’s kit; would she have time to do healing on the side, along with her studies? Possibly not, but if Keren was to be training too, there would be the usual souvenirs from sparring matches for Zae to attend to. As long as she had to bring the satchel, to secure the more delicate potions and sharper tools, she might as well not unload anything from it.