Aetherium (Omnibus Edition)

by Joseph Robert Lewis

  “I’ve known most of them since I learned to walk. I was an altar boy with five of them. All decent lads, I swear it. Your wife isn’t so much a prisoner as a lady with a private army, at the moment.” Alonso was shivering continuously now.

  Lorenzo frowned and stroked his chin a bit longer. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. But she has a point about the stone, and I’d rather put my trust in a company of Espani soldiers than in my own, solitary sword.” He sighed and shook his head. “All right, we’ll do it her way.”

  “So what now, sir? And what stone did she mean? The stone in the message. What is that?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it. All of you.” Lorenzo glanced around the street. “But first we need to get indoors. It must be past midnight now. We need sleep and heat.”

  “I agree, but where?” Dante asked. “If you have more friends in Zaragoza, I hope they’re more trustworthy than the priests at La Seo.”

  “I know a place,” Alonso said. “The church by my parents’ house. We can sleep there tonight.”

  “More churches.” Dante scowled. “There must be a hotel or inn or something civilized in this frozen bunghole of a city.”

  “No, it’s perfect,” Alonso said. “Tiny. Dingy. Empty. No one will see us. And I can get us breakfast from my parents in the morning.”

  “Hot food?” Dante raised an eyebrow. “Free hot food?”

  “I suppose that’s decided then. We’ll get the horses from the cathedral on the way,” Lorenzo said. “We’re going to need them tomorrow.”

  With the hidalgo giving commands, and admitting that she knew nothing about this city or their options, Taziri followed the group back up to La Seo and helped to quietly steal back their horses from the cathedral’s stables. Back on the road, Alonso led them across the river and into a neighborhood of tiny stone houses and snowy streets. Every window was dark but smoke rose steadily from most chimneys to scatter on the surging winds racing across the rooftops. They stopped at the front door of a building that looked just like the houses to either side of it except for the large wooden triquetra carved over the door.

  Father, Mother, and Son.

  Taziri grimaced at the sight of the dark ruin before them, thinking of the bright and beautiful Mazdan temples back home in Tingis.

  Everything is better in Tingis, in Marrakesh. The food. The weather. Even God.

  Don Lorenzo led his horse straight through the open door and Taziri followed on her own mare. When they were all inside, the single room of the church was overflowing with bodies and horseflesh. But with a few simple directions, Lorenzo had the horses bedded down in the front to block the door and the rotting, overturned pews had been dragged into the outlines of beds.

  Inside and away from the wind, the temperature seemed to rise quite a bit. And after half an hour in a small room with four other people and three horses, the temperature rose a bit more than that. Taziri made a hard, lumpy pillow out of her bag and lay down on a carpet of decaying hymn book pages. She closed her eyes, intending to think about little Menna’s face, to wonder what her little girl was doing, what she was learning, what she was thinking. Instead, Taziri fell asleep.

  She woke in black silence. Still hours until morning. What was that noise?

  Taziri squinted in the gloom, trying to remember the sound that had roused her. A voice? Was it Shahera? She rolled over.

  A white face stared down at her, a man’s face, thin and drawn, a face of swirling silver mist that rippled out in the vague shape of hair floating on water. The ghost hovered over her, nose to nose, grinning a terrible toothless grin. “Bah!”

  Taziri screamed and scrambled back against the closest wall. The ghost vanished, its aether fading into the darkness. She sat against the cold stones, shivering, listening to her heart pound in her chest.

  “Are you all right?” Alonso propped himself up on one elbow, squinting around the dark church.

  “It was nothing. Just a ghost. Sorry.”

  He nodded. “Probably the old priest. Sorry. I should have mentioned it. I forgot that you folks aren’t used to ghosts.”

  Taziri crept back down to her blankets. “How can anyone get used to that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just a face and a voice,” Alonso said. “Nothing dangerous. Not like Marrakesh. I hear in Marrakesh you’ve got a place called a factory.”

  She frowned. “Yeah, lots of them.”

  “Are they really full of giant machines that tear off men’s arms and legs?”

  She paused. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

  “Yeah, well, that scares me a lot more than any ghost. Good night.”

  “Good night, Alonso.”

  When morning came, she heard the crackle of a fire and she sat up in a daze, trying to remember where she was and why. A horse whickered by her foot and she remembered it all instantly. Looking around, she saw Alonso and Lorenzo sitting beside a small fire with an open tin of biscuits, white cheese, salted ham, and moldy black bread.

  Breakfast of conquistadors. She crawled over to them and began eating.

  A few minutes later, Shahera and Dante had joined them and Don Lorenzo was telling a confusing and disjointed story about his journey through a jungle, a dead nun named Ariel, and a burning hot ball of metal lost somewhere in the Pyrenees Mountains.

  “That’s fantastic. A magic stone.” Alonso grinned. “And we’re going to go find it?”

  “But what is it? What is it really?” Dante asked. “I may not be much of a chemist, but I’ve studied my craft a bit and I’ve never heard of any such metal.”

  “Neither have I,” said Taziri. “Metal heats when you heat it and cools when you don’t. It doesn’t stay hot for no reason, and I for one don’t believe in magic. Sorry, Alonso.”

  “I don’t know, I really don’t.” Lorenzo shrugged. “But I’ve seen it. I watched those priests use it to kill those men in the river. And now Salvator wants it, maybe for Magellan or maybe for himself. But I don’t intend to let either of them use the skyfire stone as a weapon. It’s a gift. It’s an opportunity. Whatever it is, I’m going to use it to heal this country, to soften the winter and help the crops, maybe even to power our cities as the Mazighs do with their steam engines. But most of all to show the people something good, something hopeful, something to revive their faith. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone use it to kill a single person. I’d rather see it lost in the depths of the ocean than that.”

  Taziri cleared her throat. “That’s all very well and good, but I still have two passengers I need to deliver to Tingis, and a home and family to get back to. I came this far because I believed you could hide us from the military. But now we have this Fabris person just half a step behind us with the Espani army at his beck and call, and you’re setting out to find some magic stone. I think it may be time for Dante, Shahera, and I to head down the river to the sea.”

  “Yes, finally, thank you,” said Dante.

  “No, please, you can’t do that,” Lorenzo said. “It’s not safe. We can’t afford to stay in the city another hour. I know I’ve kept some private matters from you, but I didn’t think I needed to tell you. I planned to leave you safe and sound in the cathedral while I went to find the stone. But here we are and I think I know where to find the stone. It’s near a town called Yesero, a prospector village at the foot of the mountains. We can be there well before midnight tonight if we ride hard all day. And tomorrow, if I’m lucky, and I am very lucky, I will have this stone in my hands. Then we can all go straight south to Tartessos and I’ll put you on the boat to Tingis myself. You’ll be perfectly safe once I have the stone. The stone is the key. We’ll show it to everyone we meet on the road, and by the time we walk into the capital we’ll have a procession of thousands of pilgrims with us. No soldiers will stop you. No Italians will swing a sword at you. You’ll be back home with your daughter in your arms before you know it.”

  Menna. Taziri stared down at her left hand, her fingers wrapping lightly
around the plates and rods attached to her glove to support her hand. The two little fingers twitched, their nerves all dead leaving the flesh numb and rubbery. Home.

  “Two days to find your magic stone? That’s not too bad.” Dante frowned. “How big is it?”

  “What?”

  “How big is the skyfire stone?”

  Lorenzo blinked. “I have no idea.”

  Dante rolled his eyes. “Well, what if it’s too big to carry? It’s a meteorite, right? It could be the size of a boulder. It could be bigger than this church.”

  “I’ve just assumed it will be the same as the one I saw in the New World. I have a special harness with clay pads to carry it. But if the stone is too big?” The hidalgo shrugged. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “And what happens if we don’t find it?” Taziri asked. “What happens then?”

  Lorenzo exhaled slowly. “Then I will escort you all to Barcelona and put you on the first boat to Rome. I swear it. Either way, you’ll be safely off Espani soil by the end of the week.”

  Dante scowled. “I suppose that’s the best deal we’re going to get.”

  Shahera touched Taziri’s knee. The girl was smiling mischievously. “Oh come on, we’ve come this far already. Don’t you want to see if this stone of his is real? It’d be the greatest story ever. You have to be curious!”

  Of course I’m curious. I’m an engineer, after all. But I’m also a patriot, and a wife, and mother, and very tired and very cold person. She stared at the hidalgo. “Two days?”

  “Two days.” He nodded.

  Taziri nodded back and stood up, stretching and groaning. “Then let’s get the horses ready to go. Before I change my mind.”

  Chapter 19

  After one night in the cell, Qhora was ready to leave. The surgeon had done a fine job stitching up Gaspar’s arm and the young diestro had slept soundly through the night with Hector watching over him. Morning brought no sun, only a brighter haze outside the window. A soldier brought a tray of porridge bowls and as she sat eating her lukewarm breakfast she wondered what Lorenzo might be eating just then. Porridge, she guessed.

  When the soldier returned to collect the bowls, he was followed by Salvator Fabris and the Espani major.

  “Good morning, Signora Quesada,” Salvator said. “It would seem your husband has abandoned you. I’ve just received a report that he was seen leaving the city this morning before dawn, under cover of darkness, with several confederates. No doubt one of them was the young man who accosted me in the nude last night and then mysteriously vanished from this cell. Now, you and I both know what your husband is going to do. He may have the journal, but I’ve read the journal. Unfortunately, I did not have time to properly analyze all of the information in it. So, my question to you is, where exactly is Lorenzo going now?”

  “I wouldn’t tell you if I knew,” she said. “But thank you for informing me that he is now at least two hours ahead of you and therefore far beyond your reach.”

  The Italian nodded curtly. “Yes, well, I had rather hoped to simply intercept your husband when he returned from his little expedition, and thus save myself the trouble of following him. But since he didn’t even attempt to save you last night, I can no longer assume if or when he might return for you at all, and I do not like to be kept waiting. So I’ll just have to find another role for you to play. Major, kindly release the lady, shackle her, and place her on my horse. I’m leaving immediately.”

  Qhora opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted before she could begin.

  “Yes, you are leaving, but the lady will not be accompanying you,” the major said.

  “Won’t she?” Salvator turned on the shorter man. “Need I remind you of my letter of command from Lord Admiral Magellan? It clearly states my acting rank as commander, which exceeds yours, major. You will follow my commands or I will find someone else who will. I only overlooked your incompetence regarding the escaped boy because I assumed Don Lorenzo would not leave without his precious wife. But since that is no longer the case, your incompetence is once again at issue.”

  Qhora saw a pair of nervous young soldiers hovering in the open doorway across the room.

  “Yes, yes.” The major sighed. “Your letter bought my obedience last night when I had no reason to doubt your actions or intentions. But you are persecuting Don Lorenzo Quesada, a war hero, and without offering a single accusation or shred of evidence to warrant such action. And now you have imprisoned the Don’s wife and students, again without charges or evidence. From what you have said this morning, it is clear you are simply abusing these poor people for your own purposes, and that I will not allow.”

  Two more soldiers appeared in the doorway.

  “Have you any idea what the admiral will do when he learns of this treason?” Salvator asked.

  “I very much doubt the admiral will look kindly on your abuses of power, but at any rate, I swore no oath to the admiral or any other officer. I swore my oath to my sovereigns, to Prince Valero and to God.” The major gave his soldiers a little wave of his fingers and the young men filtered into the room to stand behind him. “What you are doing here, sir, violates the Father’s command for justice and the Son’s entreaty for mercy and compassion. So you can report my actions to my superiors however you wish, but you will do so after you leave my barracks, right now.” He gestured to the far door.

  “I think not.” Salvator snapped his fingers. “Men, please remove the major and place him under house arrest. And prepare my horse and the lady for my departure. I’ll need an escort of six of your best riders and sharpest shooters.”

  Qhora glanced back at Hector and Gaspar on the bench behind her. What will happen to them after Fabris takes me away? Who will look after them?

  The soldiers did not move.

  “Today, gentlemen,” Salvator said.

  The soldiers still did not move.

  The major said, “It would seem you have much to learn about what it means to be a soldier, sir. Especially an Espani soldier.”

  “Any man who divides his loyalty between two masters is of no use to anyone.” Salvator strode to the far door by himself.

  “I disagree,” the major said. “But a man who has no loyalty to anyone is a danger to everyone. Take care, Señor Fabris. I will send my own report on this affair to your admiral, and my general, and perhaps to the minister of war, as well. Good day, sir.”

  The door slammed behind Salvator.

  Qhora released the breath she was holding. “Thank you, major. I cannot thank you enough. You’ve saved my life, and my husband’s, and his students’ as well. Thank you so much.”

  The major shrugged as he unlocked the cell door. “It was nothing, señora. I was merely doing my duty. My only regret is that I did not do so earlier. It is extremely rare that any officer has just cause to question an order, let alone a senior officer. I admit, I was not prepared to do so until this moment.”

  She saw how pale the older man had become, his forehead beaded with sweat, his veined hand shaking. When the cell door opened, she stepped out and took his hand. “I understand, and thank you again. I’ve said it before and I’m certain I will say it again, that the Espani are the most honorable people I have ever had the privilege to know. But now I need to go. My husband is still in danger.”

  “You mean to pursue this Italian? I would not advise it,” said the major.

  “No. I mean to put an end to this business entirely. But I will need you to look after Hector and Gaspar for me.”

  “Of course.” The major nodded. “But where are you going?”

  “Back to La Seo for my mount, and then to Valencia.”

  “I see. Well, I’ve heard that Lord Admiral Magellan is a passionate man, but a good officer and a true patriot. I’m certain he will hear you out and see that justice is served.”

  Qhora smiled. “I hope you’re right, major. Hector, Gaspar? Take care of each other and when you’re ready to travel again, I’ll see you back at home
in Madrid.”

  They all said their farewells and Qhora hurried back through the narrow icy corridors of Zaragoza back to the great cathedral. It took over an hour for the monks to help her pack a single bag of clothing and food while readying Wayra to leave. Most of the brothers wanted to express their seemingly boundless regrets at the invasion of their sanctuary the night before and the harsh treatment Qhora and her companions had suffered while guests under their holy roof. But eventually she was ready and mounted on Wayra’s shoulders once more. The monstrous eagle quorked and hissed as she strutted out into the bright glare of the morning sun reflecting off the icy walls, icy river, and icy snow drifts that covered the city in a glistening shell.

  The hour was still early, but many people were already out in the streets on their way to work or already hard at it. The crowds forced Qhora to wind her way along side streets and back streets and any place that offered her a clearer path to the edge of city where she could escape the gasps and stares of the pedestrians and let her feathered hatun-anka run free across the frozen plains. It took nearly half an hour to do so, but when the vast rolling hills of España spread out before her she felt all her anxiety about controlling her mount melt away. There was no single road running straight from Zaragoza to Valencia, but Qhora glanced at the sun and noted the nearby mountain peaks and soon she had her bearings.

  A light snow began to fall and Qhora folded up the stiff collar of her Espani coat to shield her face. She pressed her tricorn hat tightly over her hair and shook the reins.

  “Sah!”

  Wayra lowered her head on her long feathered neck and set out at a blistering sprint, her vicious claws slicing and splitting the frozen dirt with every step. The falling snow whipped back into Qhora’s eyes and she felt the tails of her fur coat and Enzo’s old army coat flapping behind her in the wind.

  The huge eagle ran and ran. She dashed up and down hills, across roads, and over frozen streams. Time and again they startled some poor rabbit or fox crossing their path and the tiny white creature would bolt away into the half-dead remains of the underbrush to hide. And more than once Qhora cried out to some person ahead, “Pardon me!” just before the towering bird thundered past, leaving children screaming and adults stumbling back in the snow.