by Jade Lee
Jane smiled. "Well, let's not disappoint them. Here, help me put this out." She brought the black bar and cord to the window, dangling it out under the light. "Hmm. Have we got something to lay this on? Like a table or chair?"
Daken glanced back at the young mage still guarding the doorway. The boy nodded and disappeared. Moments later, two youths returned with a table.
"How's this?"
Jane twisted around to see. "Great. Pass it over."
Once the bar was placed to her satisfaction, Jane turned around, resting momentarily against the cabinet, her expression relaxed as she watched two boys at the doorway. The first, the young mage in his dark blue robe, returned to his sentry position. But the other one, the young blond of about thirteen in servant's garb, hesitated just on the inside of the door.
"Hi," she said to him.
The boy nodded and brushed back a greasy lock of hair. Then he stared at her as if he were afraid she'd try to eat him.
"So much for my winning ways with kids," she muttered before turning back to Daken. "You know, I suppose they could come in if they stayed on that side of the room." She lifted her chin to the back of the room. "That would keep them from killing themselves trying to see around Mr. Dark Blue and Bulky."
"The mage is there to keep others from interfering."
"Oh. Can he keep them on that side of the room?"
Daken nodded. "If it will not disturb you, then..." he paused, choosing his words carefully. "It would be a kindness to them." The people in the hall were those who were not able to watch in more subtle ways, and Daken had always thought it unfair how jealously some mages hoarded their knowledge. It pleased him that Jane was kindhearted enough to allow the less gifted to learn of what they did. And if it did magnify the extent of their success or failure, that was how great moments in history were made.
Even if they failed, his mother would have been pleased with how notorious the event made her son.
"Perhaps we should limit the number to ten," he suggested. "There isn't much room."
"Yeah," Jane nodded, her attention focused on a strange series of holes in a strip of metal. "Whatever you think best." She suddenly glanced up, scanning the faces behind the young mage. "Which one's the Elven Lord?"
Daken stopped, realizing she had no understanding of the abilities of the people around her. "The Elven Lord and other high mages are undoubtedly watching through their crystals."
"Crystals? As in crystal balls?"
"Some are balls. Some are mirrors. Others use pools of water. It all depends—"
She waved it off. "I don't want to know." She looked around at the walls and ceiling. "It gives me the creeps to think of a dozen pairs of eyes watching my every move."
"It is more likely to be a hundred or more. The mages have their own way of communicating. We are probably being watched by wizards throughout the world."
"Swell," she muttered, her gaze sliding back to the holes. "Look. Can you direct traffic, then come on back and help me carry this equipment? I found a monitor back here that ought to work. Plus drives and the like. It may be crude, but I want to start small and build up to the big guns."
Daken hesitated, his voice slow. "There are guns back there?"
Jane glanced up. "You know about guns?"
"Yes. They are weapons. Ancient weapons whose secret has been lost."
"Good. Let it stay lost." She started to duck back into the cabinet, but he grabbed her arm.
"There are guns back there?" He couldn't suppress the excitement in his voice. A gun would be of great use against the Tarveen.
Jane hesitated. "No. There aren't any guns back there. It was just a figure of speech." She stepped away from him. Then she glanced up at the ceiling and projected her voice for all to hear. "No guns." And then she was gone, leaving him to handle the thorny problem of who to allow in the room and who to keep out.
* * *
Jane ducked through the cabinet into the main machine room. She knew exactly where she was going. She had stumbled across the item a few hours ago, but hadn't thought much about it. Or rather, she had thought a lot about it, but wasn't sure what to do with it.
Kneeling down before a small filing cabinet, she pulled open a drawer. A nine millimeter Beretta lay neatly on the dark metal. One magazine clip lay beside it. She lifted them both out of the small filing cabinet, absently flicking out a bullet from the clip.
What would she do with them? This land had enough weapons. She refused to be the snake who introduced modern guns to this small garden of Eden. They'd find it out fast enough on their own.
She looked around the room, belatedly realizing she might be showing a few hundred people exactly what she'd just told Daken didn't exist back here. Well, she could only pray they weren't watching.
She quickly dismantled the Beretta. This wasn't a gun she was exceptionally familiar with, but one couldn't live long in a big city without having some understanding of guns. In fact, her father had taught her how to load and shoot a pistol before she moved to Boston. She fumbled as she tore it apart, finally wresting the firing pin free. She tried to bend or break it, but it was too well-made. So she tossed it into a corner behind the main disk cabinet. Even if someone knew where it was, it would take a lot of muscle to get back there to it.
But there would be no reason to get it. Especially since she intended to dispose of the bullets and the gun as soon as humanly possible.
She heard Daken near the doorway to the machine room. Grabbing her backpack, she scooped up the gun, clip, and bullet, and dropped them into the front pouch. Then she tossed her pack in the opposite direction of the pin before running to the monitor she'd found.
"There you are," she said breathlessly as Daken stepped into the room. "Come help me carry this." She knelt down and lifted the monitor easily. "Er," she stammered. "I mean, can you bring that," she jerked her head back at a set of drives.
Daken stared at her oddly, and Jane bit her lip, trying not to look too guilty. Hoisting the monitor higher, she hid her face, then pushed past him into what once was the Op's office.
Much to her relief, he let her go, although she felt him watching her every movement as she stepped through the narrow, reinforced hallway.
* * *
Daken watched her disappear into the main room and felt his lips press into a tight grimace. Jane was up to something. Until now, she'd been exciting, different, innocent, uncanny, and sometimes just plain odd. But this was the first time he'd seen her sneaky.
She didn't do it well.
He would have stopped her. He would have warned her that now, when most of the known world watched, was not the time to start hiding things from him.
But then that would imply that he was being totally honest with her. And he wasn't.
She thought she was helping him reach for his destiny. She thought by doing her magic with these bits of board and black crystal that she would help him obtain the council seat reserved for the prophesied one. But how could he sit on the ruling board if he was eradicating the Tarveen?
No, she would be the prophesied one. Jane Deerfield, his little fool, would become the Keeper of Knowledge. And he would still be the second son, now king, of the western frontier land of Chigan.
Daken clenched his jaw as he turned away. The Crones of Fate had outdone themselves in perversity today.
So be it. Jane would be the Keeper despite everything she said about leaving. Her words about a home and a livelihood somewhere far from here were no longer relevant. She may want to go back to where she belonged, but after seeing her here, working with this thing she called a computer, Daken knew her place was here. As the Keeper of Knowledge.
He smiled to himself as he lifted the heavy box she called the drive unit and grimaced at its weight. Curse the Crones. All his life he'd thought he would be the one to bring knowledge back into the world. He'd spent his childhood trading on that one prophesy of greatness. Instead, he fetched and carried for a little fool who didn't know about
Old Souls, but apparently could work magic with rocks and green boards.
Perhaps he could still work this to his advantage. Through Jane, he could influence the Council to give him the army he needed. Then, after he and Jane married, he could finally bring his lands and his people into the prominence they deserved, rather than being the back water buffer zone between the Empty Lands and the Elven Lord.
Yes, the Crones of Fate had indeed twisted his life in a bizarre pattern. But, at least in this case, the Father made sure it came out all right.
The only problem now was getting Jane to accept her destiny.
Chapter 6
Jane held her breath as she double-checked everything—all the wires, all the connections, all the boards, dip switches, and power flow indicators. Then she glanced uneasily behind her at her mismatched audience. The original group had been slowly displaced, giving way one by one to people she guessed were higher ranking officials. Instead of the students and servants of before, she now saw dark men in dark robes. Interspersed between them were light-skinned, light-haired people in flowing garments, not one of which looked older than about fourteen. And then, squeezed in the fringes, were every other shape, size, and body type in between.
The only one who stood out in her mind was the dirty boy who she'd tried to talk with before. He gazed at her from around the doorway, looking at her through eyes so pale they seemed almost white. He always ducked his head when she looked at him, trying to shrink into the hallway, probably hoping nobody would notice him and throw him out. He did it very well, this shrinking-into-nothingness act. If she hadn't particularly tried to speak to him earlier, she doubted she would have given him a second thought. But because she had, and because he looked almost as ragtag as she felt, she watched him and tried to become friends.
"Why do you keep looking at that boy?"
Jane jumped as Daken's breath carried his soft-spoken question past her ear.
"What?"
"The boy is dumb. A disappointing servant at best. Your attention to him not only lowers you but discomfits the boy."
Jane turned to stare at Daken, disillusionment in her to-be-lover knotting in her stomach. "It lowers me to talk to a servant? Why? Aren't servants people too?"
"That is irrelevant. That one has been a disappointment all his life. It does you no good to associate with him at your moment of proof."
Jane wondered at Daken's bitter tone as he tried to draw her further away from the boy, but she resisted, knowing he wouldn't force her. Not while bigwigs throughout the world watched.
"What do you mean, he's been a disappointment all his life?"
Daken practically growled at her before forcing the words out. "Years ago, the Elven Lord had a dream that the boy would become a great wizard. He spent much time and money to locate the child and bring him here, only to discover the boy is nothing but a dumb, silent servant."
She looked back at the child. He was perhaps thirteen, with a shallow chest and pale, dirty hair. He didn't seem stupid to her. The fact that he'd managed to stay nearby, when everyone else appeared to be some sort of dignitary, indicated a subtle intelligence rather than stupidity. And there was something in his eyes. It was an odd spark she caught when he didn't think anyone watched, a keen glance that missed nothing.
Then something else clicked in her mind, and she turned to Daken.
"You think that because his prophesy hasn't worked out, yours won't either."
"That has nothing to do—"
"Of course, it does. I'd think that would give you some sympathy for the child. This bitterness is unworthy of you, Daken. I'm disappointed."
His mouth gaped open in shock, then snapped shut with a black anger that darkened the gold in his eyes. Apparently, not many people ever scolded Daken. And certainly not in front of the most powerful people in the world.
Still, Jane lifted her chin, unwilling to back down even as her insides quailed. Daken was her only friend in this strange world. It wasn't wise to anger him. But even knowing that, she couldn't abandon the poor boy. She felt a kinship with him. He looked like she felt: a lost soul on the fringes, struggling to survive in a sometimes hostile and strange world.
She smiled and gestured for the boy to join them. She ignored the shocked gasps of outrage that filled the room, and she jerked free of Daken's restraining arm.
"Don't worry, Daken," she said lightly over her shoulder. "We won't lower your standing with the people here. You've made it clear you want nothing to do with him." She dropped a comforting arm on the boy's small shoulders, making it abundantly clear that if Daken wanted anything to do with her, he'd have to accept the child too.
"You are being obstinate, difficult—" Daken ground out the words between clenched teeth.
"And modern, Daken. I'm being a modem woman." Then she turned her back on him and knelt down to be eye to eye with the boy. "I'm Jane." She touched her chest. "Jane."
She pointed to him, trying by facial expression to ask his name.
"I told you. He's dumb."
She shot an angry look at Daken before turning back to the boy. But then after a few more frustrated seconds, she began to understand.
"You mean he's mute. He can't speak."
"That's what I said. He's dumb."
Jane silently cursed their communication spell, realizing whatever the word "dumb" was in his language, it didn't carry the same overtones of stupidity it did in English. Then she sighed, regrouped, and tried to make the best of it.
"What's his name?"
"Steviens."
"St... st..." She couldn't get the word out. Then she looked down at the boy, "How about I call you Steve? Steve? Sound okay to you?"
The boy nodded as if he understood and approved. Behind her, Daken snorted his disgust, but Jane ignored him. Just as she ignored all the outraged, stuffy people in her audience.
"Come on, Steve. I'll show you how you can help me."
"Jane—" said Daken, his voice low with warning.
"How about you concentrate on crowd control, Daken. We're getting more and more in here every second." She glanced disdainfully at the press of arrogant, richly-attired people who seemed to press further into the room with each passing second. "Leave the machinery to us servants."
"Venzi, Jane! You're not a servant—"
"Well, I'm certainly not one of them either!" And with that, she turned back to the boy. "Okay, Steve. Here's what we're going to do." She took him to the power strip and pointed to the small electronic panel that monitored power flow. Given the steady, bright light on the solar panels in the window, they now had enough energy to run the small drive unit that she hoped would eventually boot the larger computer in the back. The problem was, she'd only found one boot disk. If they had a power drop during the start up procedure, she risked losing the disk and any way of working the small unit, much less the mainframe.
It was a risk they'd have to take. There was no other way until she found some sort of battery back-up.
"I want you to watch these lights," she said to Steve, pointing to a strip of nine steady, red lights. "If they ever drop to less than four or go over twelve then holler..." She remembered he didn't speak. Not knowing whether he could make any noise at all, Jane looked around for another way for him to make noise. Eventually, she pointed to a metal cabinet in arms reach. "Bang on this cabinet." She demonstrated, much to the shock of everyone else in the room. "Do you understand?"
He gave her a blank expression. Of course, he didn't understand. He didn't speak English. No one spoke English. She glanced up at Daken who waited just off to the side, his arms crossed over his massive chest.
"Could you explain it to him, please?"
"He's just a servant boy, Jane. I could—"
"That's not the point! I like him, Daken. A little bit more than I like you right now."
"Jane!"
"Look. It's a virtually meaningless task. If the power drops, there's nothing he can do. Hell, there's not much I can do. But if it k
eeps him beside me, in the spotlight for maybe the only time in his life instead of shoved out in the hallway, then I'm going to do it."
"No good comes from taking a servant beyond his position. It will only make his life harder when he goes back to his duties."
Jane was in no frame of mind to accept the reason behind his argument. She felt increasingly nervous over the spectators, both seen and unseen, surrounding her, watching her every move. She'd never worked well in front of others, and this center-stage-to-the-world stuff made her more agitated than when she'd failed her Doctorate orals. It didn't help that she didn't know if she could bring up the monstrosity of a computer. Everything had been in a jumble of haphazard parts, some so thick with dust she needed acid to clean them off. The odds against her succeeding were so high, it would take a miracle to do anything but fail in the most humiliating, horrendous way possible.
But she'd started. She had to see it through. Even though her audience grated on her nerves, and she'd been fighting back a migraine by sheer willpower alone. Unfortunately, the only way she'd found to release tension was to fight with Daken over a silly servant boy who seemed as skittish at being in the spotlight as she was.
"Damn it, Daken! Just tell him!"
Biting back an oath that was no less vehement for being cut off, Daken apparently translated for the boy.
Steve nodded once, a slight tilt of his chin, then he gazed back at Jane, his pale, pale blue eyes suddenly wide and serious. In that one moment, she realized he understood. Not just his task, but that she was using him to release her frustrations, not to help him. His gaze told her that he not only understood, but he forgave her.
She felt her face burn a bright red as he turned back to the power strip and settled into his task, his small hand poised over the cabinet, ready to signal her if there was a problem.
She glanced at Daken who remained beside her, his face grim.
"I'm sorry, Daken," she murmured. "I'm going nuts here. This will never work, you won't fulfill your destiny, and now I've dragged a boy into this fiasco."
