Cradling her left arm, Sigrid hurried for the rear door. Hoping against hope, she grasped the rusty door handle and gave it a turn. Blessedly, it opened.
The alleyway beyond was dark, dirty, and deserted. Wasting no time, Sigrid ran a few quick steps, then did her best to launch into the air. Her left arm didn’t matter-nothing did, save for getting away. As she struggled to gain altitude she heard another of her Night Witches scream out.
As she curved her way south toward Tammerland, this time her watery eyes were not caused by the passing wind.
CHAPTER XVII
AFTER TAKING A SIP OF ABBEY’S ROBUST TEA, TYRANNY stabbed another cigarillo between her lips and lit it with a match. The Conclave meeting had been going on for some time and she doubted that it would conclude soon. As she casually blew the smoke out her nose, she turned her skeptical gaze toward Faegan.
“We’re listening,” she said drily. “By all means, amaze us with your acumen.”
Tristan smiled. He knew that Tyranny’s sarcasm was in jest. But like Tristan, she accepted nothing on faith, and she was quite comfortable with challenging the Conclave mystics and their theories.
Faegan let go a little laugh. “Very well,” he answered quietly. “I will try to do that very thing.”
Pushing away from the table, he wheeled across the room to a mahogany cabinet. He opened one of the cabinet doors and produced a cylindrical object. Cradling it in his lap, he returned to his place, then gently set the strange item on the table for everyone to see.
Tristan leaned forward to look. The glass jar was about a foot high and six inches in diameter. Its top was sealed with red wax, and it was nearly filled to the brim with subtle matter. The flickering firelight seemed to bring the microscopic bits to life. Such a wondrous and beautiful thing, he thought. I suspect that my venerable mystics have yet to unravel all its secrets.
Faegan pointed at the jar. “As best we know, this is all the subtle matter that exists on our side of the world,” he said. “There is no known way to produce more. But we have learned a little about how to use it.”
“This is the same material that formed the maps of Rustannica and Shashida, and the formulas and the written words that hovered below them,” Shailiha mused. “How did it get into the jar?”
“After the rest of you left the room, Wigg and I stayed behind talking,” Faegan answered. “To our surprise, something else started happening. For the last three days we have done little but try to unravel its secrets. We have made some meager progress, but there are many more riddles about subtle matter that are far from solved. But one use for the amazing substance has come to light.”
“And what is that?” Traax asked.
Wigg leaned forward over the tabletop. “A way to help us cross the Azure Sea,” he answered.
The room went silent. It seemed that no one wanted to ask the obvious question for fear that doing so might make the answer disappear. Finally Tristan placed one hand atop Wigg’s.
“Tell us,” he said softly.
Wigg pointed at the glass jar, causing it to slide toward him. He picked it up and regarded it with great reverence. Then he looked over at theJin’Sai.
“Before now, we believed that only three things could truly employ the power of the craft,” he said. “Can you name them?”
“Certainly,” Tristan answered. He looked at the jewel dangling against Wigg’s chest. “One is the Paragon.”
“And the others?” the First Wizard asked.
“Endowed blood and the red waters of the Caves,” Tristan answered.
Wigg gently placed the jar back atop the table. “Correct,” he said. “Our recent discovery of subtle matter makes four such things. These are indeed days of great importance in our understanding of the craft. But subtle matter holds rare properties that even the Paragon, endowed blood, and cave water do not.”
“What do you mean?” Shailiha asked.
“As you already know, the Paragon and endowed blood are tools by which the power of the Vigors and the Vagaries are made available for certain human beings to use,” Jessamay said. “This power comes from the two opposing orbs. But even the Paragon and endowed blood are mere conduits. Simply put, subtle matter is a unique form of pure magic that has been captured rather than simply empowered. Normally we do not see the magic itself, only its results. But this is magic that can be literally held in one’s hand. The treatise confirmed our suspicion that it is the light of an azure bolt, changed into a different physical form. It is no oversimplification to say that if there is such a thing as enchanted dust, this is it.”
Tristan again stared at the mysterious powder. How incongruous, he thought. So powerful a substance, trapped inside such a fragile vessel. He looked back at Wigg. “Is it alive like endowed blood?” he asked.
Faegan shook his head. “No,” he answered. Then he thoughtfully tugged on his beard, thinking. “Or perhaps I should say that it is not ‘alive’ by any definition of the word that we understand,” he added. “We now command one of its uses, but most of the others still escape us.”
“How did it become trapped in the jar?” Shailiha asked. “Was that the strange happening that you referred to?”
Wigg nodded. “Faegan and I watched in horror as the subtle matter unexpectedly scattered, breaking apart the map, the associated formulas, and the treatise. The subtle matter then coalesced into a cloud and began careening around the room. At first we couldn’t imagine why. Was it about to form another message, perhaps? The longer it flew about, the more it seemed to be searching for something. When it found what it wanted, we got our answer.”
“And what was that?” Tristan asked.
“It needed a resting place,” Wigg answered. “When it neared this ordinary glass jar sitting atop one of the Archives shelves, the jar magically emptied. It previously held several scrolls of small importance. As the scrolls drifted to the floor, the subtle matter immediately flew inside. The red wax seal formed immediately after.” Wigg raised an eyebrow. “It was an interesting process to behold,” he added. Wigg’s talent for understatement was far from lost on him, the prince smiled.
“What then?” Traax asked. “How did you come by all this newfound knowledge?”
“Part of the information hovering below the map was a craft treatise written by the Ones,” Faegan answered. “My guess is that it only scratches the surface of this particular discipline. Only a few uses for subtle matter were shown. No doubt the Ones wished that the entire discipline not be given away for fear that the Tome and the two Scrolls-the relics from which all this new information was so recently gleaned-had simultaneously fallen into the wrong hands. The information is sparse, and because the Tome and the two Scrolls were its originating source, it is aeons old. Because so much time has passed since the writing of the Tome and the two Scrolls, there is simply no telling how much farther the Ones have advanced the craft. Despite what we consider to be the treatise’s supreme complexity, for the Ones it might be little more than some schoolchild’s lesson. It was written in a complicated dialect of Old Eutracian that we have yet to completely decipher. But we have learned enough to know that it was a short discourse in several uses of subtle matter.”
“And because the subtle matter swirled its way into that jar, whatever hasn’t already been learned is lost forever,” Traax lamented.
Aeolus let go a soft cackle. “You’re forgetting something, my winged friend,” he said. “True, the message that the subtle matter briefly formed has been disassembled and transferred to that jar. But Faegan read it first! And in its entirety, I might add! Remember, he commands the gift of Consummate Recollection. The message is gone, but it will never be forgotten. Because of its highly important nature, Faegan recorded the entire treatise on parchment. He has done the same with the formulas and with the map of the territories west of the Tolenkas. Each document rests safe under lock and key in the Archives. Along with the Tome and the two Scrolls of the Ancients, I daresay that they rank among the Redo
ubt’s greatest treasures.”
Impressed, Traax glanced at Faegan. The crippled wizard’s only response was to smile and bounce his bushy eyebrows up and down.
“I’m confused,” Abbey said. “How can subtle matter help us to cross the Azure Sea?”
Cackling again, Faegan jabbed a bony index finger into the air. “How indeed?” he asked. “Allow me to perform a brief demonstration.”
Looking around the room, Faegan spied an unlit oil lamp resting on a nearby bookshelf. With a wave of his hand the lamp lifted into the air and came to land atop the meeting table. Then he commanded the jar full of subtle matter to slide toward him.
Faegan pointed his index finger at the wax seal. It soon disappeared, leaving the jar open at the top. Beckoning with the same finger, he caused some of the microscopic bits to leave the jar and float into the air. The individual particles were so tiny and few that had they not twinkled, the Conclave members would not have seen them. Faegan moved his finger again, causing the tiny particles to hover directly over the oil lamp. He placed his hands flat on the tabletop.
“Observe,” he said quietly. The wizard closed his eyes and called on one of the spells found in the treatise.
Tristan watched as the twinkling bits of dust descended toward the oil lamp. At first nothing happened. Then the twinkling stopped and the entire lamp started to glow. Tense seconds passed. Tristan’s mouth soon fell open with astonishment.
The oil lamp was shrinking.
Smaller and smaller it became until it was no larger than a thimble. As the lamp stopped glowing, a hush fell over the room.
His mouth still agape, Tristan looked first at Faegan, then at Shailiha. Faegan only smiled. The stunned look on Shailiha’s face mirrored her brother’s.
Tristan finally found his voice. “I beg the Afterlife…” he breathed.
“Oh, this has little to do with the Afterlife,” Faegan exclaimed, laughing.
Lacing his fingers together, Wigg leaned nearer. “Faegan is right,” he said softly. “The act of the craft that you just saw was true miniaturization. We mystics have long thought it possible, but until now it was quite beyond our knowledge.”
“Is the oil lamp the same in every respect save for its size?” Tyranny asked. She was still so amazed that she could barely speak.
“Yes,” Aeolus answered, “except for its weight. That property is now also reduced to a level commensurate with the lamp’s new size.”
As though still unable to believe, Shailiha leaned forward to touch the shrunken lamp. As she did, Faegan gave Tristan a knowing wink. Just as Shailiha’s fingertip touched the lamp, Faegan used the craft to set the lamp’s tiny wick alight. Jumping back, Shailiha let go a little shriek. As the other Conclave members laughed, Shailiha’s face reddened briefly.
Faegan reached out to pat her hand. “I’m sorry, Princess,” he said, “but I just couldn’t resist. As Aeolus said, save for its reduced weight and size, the lamp is the same in every respect.” He gave her a quick wink. “It can even produce light.”
Tristan’s thoughts soon returned to Abbey’s earlier question. He looked over at the First Wizard. “This is all very interesting, but how does it help us to cross the Azure Sea?” he asked.
Faegan gave him a little smile. “Can’t you guess?” he asked.
Tristan shook his head. He clearly remembered the Azure Sea. It was a vast, beautiful, and most likely very dangerous place. I can imagine only one way to cross it, he thought. But we can’t do that because… Suddenly understanding, he looked at Faegan as if the wizard had just gone mad.
“You must be joking,” he whispered.
“Oh?” Wigg countered. “And why is that?”
“You can’t do it, that’s all!” Tristan protested. “It would never work!”
“And just why not?” Aeolus countered. “After all, you saw what happened to the lamp.”
“But to shrink them to such a small size-could it really be done?” Tristan asked.
“Perhaps,” Jessamay said. “But the process wouldn’t be without its problems, nor would the ensuing journey.”
“What are you talking about?” Tyranny demanded.
Shaking his head, Tristan gave the Conclave privateer a look that said he was still stunned. “They mean to shrink the Black Ships to a size that can be carried into the Caves of the Paragon,” he said, hardly believing his own words. “We would then transport them to the shore of the Azure Sea-presuming that we can find it again. The vessels would be placed onto the water and set adrift. From there I can only guess that more subtle matter would be used to restore them to their original size.”
He turned to glare at Wigg. “Could such a thing really work?”
“Perhaps,” Wigg answered. “Unless we try, we might never reach Shashida. Remember, the Tolenkas cannot be crossed-even by the Ones and thePon Q’tar. Sailing north or south on the Sea of Whispers will only bring us up against dangerous ice packs. We know-it was tried many times during the Sorceresses’ War while attempting to outflank the Coven’s forces. We could fly the ships over the ice, but for how long? That too has been tried without success. Worse yet, going in either of those directions might take us farther away from Shashida rather than toward it. Of even greater importance is the message formed by the subtle matter. ‘To reach Shashida you must first cross the Azure Sea.’ It seems that we might have found a way after all.”
Wigg again raised an eyebrow. “Unless you know more about this than the Ones, and you can imagine a better way to do the same thing,” he added drily.
Tristan let go a deep breath and sat back in his chair. He still couldn’t believe that he and his fellow Conclave members were sitting around a table and talking about such a bizarre thing. As the notion settled in, he looked back at Wigg.
“How would we proceed?” he asked.
“First let me show you something else,” Faegan said. The wizard closed his eyes. A few more subtle matter bits freed themselves from the jar to land atop the lamp. Soon the shrunken lamp glowed again. Then it started to grow. On reaching its original size, it stopped. The lamp was again itself in every respect. Even its restored wick was still alight.
Faegan sat back in his chair. “We had to know whether the process could be reversed. As you have just seen, that is the case. But major hurdles remain.”
“What hurdles?” Shailiha asked.
“Many, I’m afraid,” Aeolus answered. “First, our supply of subtle matter is finite and we have no way to produce more. We do not yet know whether there is enough to do the job. We cannot use more than one-fourth of it to shrink the four ships.”
“Why?” Tristan asked.
“Because an equal amount will be needed to return the ships to their original size atop the Azure Sea,” Aeolus answered. “If we find Shashida and return, more will be needed to shrink them again to take them from the Caves and yet more to return them to their normal size-unless we decide to moor them on the Azure Sea and leave them there. Without enough subtle matter, the ships will never return home. Before we make our first attempt we must calculate how much subtle matter is needed to perform each transformation. We simply can’t afford to waste any.”
“There are other concerns as well,” Jessamay said. “The ships must be free of all crew members before the process starts, because we cannot know what effect the subtle matter might have on living things. Conversely, the ships must be fully loaded and as totally prepared as possible for a voyage of undetermined length. We cannot know how far our journey might take us or what we will face on the way. We will be literally sailing into the unknown. Moreover, we are assuming that the ships’ cargoes will shrink inside them. If not, the cargoes will be crushed or the ships’ hulls damaged. It is obvious that we must understand all these things before we dare to take the ships into the Caves.”
“But damage to the ships or their outright loss might not be as catastrophic as it first sounds,” Faegan said. “As you know, Wigg finally found the ships’ long-lost pla
ns. If need be, another fleet might be built. It might take years, but it could be done. Because the cost and manpower needed would be enormous, if the four Black Ships that currently serve us can be safeguarded, we must make every attempt to do so. We will therefore try to supply and transform one ship first, rather than all at once.”
“And despite these obstacles you believe that the basic theory is sound?” Tristan asked.
“Yes,” Wigg answered. “What works for an object like that lamp should work for any object, regardless of its size or weight. It seems that the only limiting factor will be our finite supply of subtle matter.”
“How will you compute the amount needed?” Tristan asked. “It seems impossible.”
“It won’t be as difficult as you think,” Aeolus answered. “From the original plans we already know how much a Black Ship weighs unloaded. The tricky part will be estimating the cargoes.” He turned to look at Traax.
“That’s where you and your warriors come in,” he said. “You will fill one of the ships to the rafters with supplies and arms. As you do, weigh and list each item that is taken aboard and compile a total sum. We will then add that number to the empty weight of the ship to arrive at a total.”
“And then?” Tristan asked.
“The treatise states how much subtle matter is needed to miniaturize one pound of given material,” Faegan answered. “From there we will formulate our calculations. We need enough subtle matter to perform sixteen such transformations, or four times per vessel. If we have enough, after Jessamay brings the fleet home and the ships are resting comfortably in their new cradles, we will empty the ships of their crews, load them, and try our first transformation. If it works, identical cargoes will be loaded onto the other ships and we will then miniaturize them as well.”
Tyranny gave Faegan another skeptical look. She never liked having “her” ships tampered with, to say nothing of this new madness that the mystics were proposing. Overwhelmed by what she was hearing, she tousled her urchinlike hair.
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