by P. D. Kalnay
“There’s no point in growing extra is there?”
“Others will come and need food. Also, supplying ships at the midpoint of their journey was an important source of revenue for the Order, in Janik’s day. It will take longer for the markets to grow again and provide the tax revenue they once did.”
Hearing Ivy talk about tax revenue drove home all the things I still didn’t know about her. To be honest, for the first months I’d known her, I’d thought she was a bit slow. I was very careful not to show any of that in my expression.
“It’s nice of you to help out, but I don’t think you should work yourself into the ground to grow food for them to sell. We have no idea when anybody else will arrive.”
“It’s no great task to maintain the existing fields,” Ivy said. “Although some are completely destroyed, many of the master wards are intact. Those closest to the city are still functional.”
“What do the wards do?”
“They give strength to the crops, in the fields and orchards, and accelerate growth.”
“Huh, I didn’t notice anything, walking through them.”
“You wouldn’t,” Ivy said. “Only a florathen can see those wards. I can’t see any of the wards in the apartment, or those that surrounded the warehouse. Everyone has their own gifts. You already have a surplus of them.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
We walked a short way in silence. Enchantments I couldn’t sense were apparently all around us. It would bear consideration.
“Jack?” Ivy said as we ascended to the highest tier.
“Yeah.”
“How will we know when others arrive?”
Lost, in the excitement of exploring and being with Ivy, I’d forgotten about that. Living on the island was like living in the bottom of a crater. We had no view beyond the sides. It was a big crater, filled with interesting things, so the island didn’t feel claustrophobic, but the only thing reminding me the sea surrounded us was the salty air. The tall gates across the harbour blocked the one gap we might have seen through.
“I don’t want to take turns watching the gates for weeks or months,” I said.
“Nor do I.”
I considered the conundrum to the counterpoint of six metal feet on the cobblestones behind us. One, Two, and Three followed us everywhere, and I hadn’t felt right telling them not to. They gave me a solution to our problem, and I set down the cart’s handles.
“Can you guys watch the gates?” I asked One.
“Yes, Master, if that is your wish.”
“They can’t even see out the windows,” Ivy said. “I could barely see out.”
“There were empty boxes and crates in the tower,” I said. This would be perfect. “I can make a platform of them, up to the windows and over to the speaking tube. One, you said there’s another tube in the Order’s Headquarters. Are there others connected to the network?”
“Yes, Master. There is one in the western tower and another in the workshop which was rarely used.”
“Why wasn’t it used?”
“You created it for testing purposes, Master. Sometimes you used it to speak with the Dragon Lord. When he left, you stopped it up. Removing the rags will restore the tube’s function.”
“Sweet, then you can watch for ships, and Two can listen for your signal. When more people are living here, we can have regular gate guards again.”
One bowed, “If that is your wish, Master.”
I grinned at Ivy. A small part of me felt guilty over how much I looked forward to regaining my personal space.
“Problem solved.”
“How will we determine if they are friendly, before we open the gate?” Ivy asked.
I didn’t have a clue.
“I said problem solved, not problems solved. I’ll think about it after dinner.”
***
Right after dinner, Ivy asked if I’d come up with a solution to the second problem yet.
“No, but maybe something useful is sitting around in the workshop.”
I hadn’t a clue how likely that was, but I itched to explore. Ivy planned to spend the following days in the fields. I planned to dig into Marielain’s stuff.
“Winathen can speak across long distances by sending their voices on the wind,” Ivy said.
“Do you know how they do it?” I asked. That’d be handy.
Ivy shrugged, “No idea.”
“Then I’m back to checking the workshop. After that I’ll set up a platform for One in the tower and get the tube here working again. We’ll test the system and go from there.”
“Be careful of what you touch,” Ivy said.
“I will.”
***
I didn’t get to look at anything cool the next day. Ivy worried that allies might show up at any moment, so I got One organised in the tower first. I didn’t see how anybody could make it halfway across the world in the few days since we’d laid claim to Knight’s Haven, but I gave in to make Ivy happy. The only people who might possibly have been en route to us were pirates, fae coming to tidy up after the burning, members of the Order who Sir Andriel had contacted, or maybe someone my Gran sent a message to. Were I among the last two groups, I’d have waited until hearing the island was out of fae control before taking a months’ long sea voyage.
Walking, to and from the tower, hauling crates around, and checking that the speaking tubes worked, took all of a long day. By the end of it, One and Two were in position. Three’s inability to speak made him no use in the operation. I’d glanced outside the gates from the tower before heading home; no ships were milling around below. If somebody showed up, we’d know, but a means of communicating with them was still lacking.
***
I took a break on the way back from the eastern tower and drank from one of the irrigation channels. As I sat on a rough step, staring westward across the width of harbour and island, I could have sworn that I saw a dark speck moving along a higher terrace on the far arm. It flitted about like a tiny bug in front of my eyes. The speck was many miles away and barely visible. When it disappeared from sight, I rubbed my eyes, but after waiting a few minutes for it to return, I gave up and continued home.
***
It was dark by the time I got back to the apartment, and Ivy was already asleep. I didn’t want to bother her with something I may only have imagined, so after wolfing down the dinner she had left for me, I crawled into bed and fell fast asleep. I didn’t notice the dirt in the apartment until the next morning.
By the time I woke, Ivy was out at work in the fields. She’d left me a bowl of fruit for breakfast. I wandered around the apartment while I ate. The place was a lot dirtier than I remembered. Dark, rich, loamy soil ran down the hallway and covered the floor of Ivy’s bedroom. She’d obviously spent much of the previous day hauling dirt. I couldn’t fathom why she’d do so. Ivy wasn’t around to ask, and the workshop beckoned, so I postponed that answer for the time being.
My morning of poking through Marielain’s old things was disappointing, but it wasn’t because of a lack of cool and mysterious artefacts. The workshop was loaded with them. The place was what I imagined Leonardo da Vinci’s workshop would’ve looked like if he’d been a magical dude who’d lived for centuries—and had an aircraft hangar sized workspace. What was disappointing was my inability to figure out what most of the things were, or did. Almost everything had integrated symbols forming the basis of enchantments, and my inner eye saw them as clearly as the back of my hand. The front doors and the warehouse had given me a false confidence in my innate magical enchanting abilities. Those things had been comparatively simple. The same way a lever or a wheel is simple. You can look at them and see immediately how they work. It doesn’t matter if you understand the underlying math. The items in the workshop contained complex enchantments; examining them was more akin to opening a computer and trying to figure out how it works by staring at the motherboard.
Some of the items were identifiable. One highli
ght was a massive mirror that reflected everything but the person looking into it. Its silver frame contained a ring of interwoven enchantments that did something. Not even I’d have made a thirty foot mirror that did nothing more than make you feel like a vampire (as far as I know vampires aren’t real). Whatever the mirror really did remained a mystery by the time I moved on.
The weapons were straightforward. A corner of the workshop was dedicated to weapons and armour. It looked like the kind of collection Bruce Wayne would have kept. Racks held swords, spears, axes… you name it. Empty suits of armour stood on stands giving the appearance of a mismatched band of warriors. No two items were alike, but I was sure that Marielain Blackhammer had made them all.
The coolest armour looked to be my size. It was black enamelled steel plate, inlaid with polished silver, and I stared it for a while. I’d have tried it on, but whoever it had been made for didn’t have wings. The helmet had a frightening demonic face and horns that spiralled tightly against the sides. I carried it across the workshop to Two and she confirmed that it had been Marielain Blackhammer’s armour of choice.
As I set the helmet back on top of the stand, I noticed the bows. One rack held bows of every kind including types I’d never seen before. Longbows, recurve bows, and short bows that would have served well on the backs of horses, hung unstrung in front of me. They were crafted from different materials and combinations of materials. The last of my pride at the bow I’d made for Ivy disappeared as I examined them. Next to conventional crossbows were mechanical bows with no visible limbs. They had complex mechanisms that obviously cranked back (there were handles for cranking) in order to fire. I’d have to try them later.
An unusual bow on the very end drew my eye. The bow was unusual for a few reasons. For one, it had been forged entirely of metal, and the limbs were paper thin. So thin that unstrung you could have used the edges as weapons. It was the only strung bow, and the string was likewise metallic, being a finely braided cable. Most of the string was piano-wire-thin except the serving (the part where hand and arrow would go). Fine engraving covered the bow’s surfaces. The most unusual part was that I knew exactly how it had been made, from the chrome-blue limbs, to the green-gold string. Not counting the hammer, and three tiny hearts, it was the first thing I’d seen on Knight’s Haven that had been crafted using the Blood of the World Tree.
The bow felt light enough that I was sure the riser was hollow. Without the power of the Blood it would’ve bent in half on the first pull and stayed that way. Turned sideways the limbs virtually disappeared. The pull felt slightly heavier than the bow I’d made for Ivy, but it was a recurve, and the length was just right. I set it aside to give to her later.
Near the end of my first search, I found an item with enchantments so straightforward that I thought I could discern their function. It wasn’t the least bit cool looking—or cool at all. A dull black metal tube as long as my arm and a foot in diameter sat on one of the many cluttered workbenches. Unless I was way off, I was looking at a pump, probably for water. It was late afternoon by the time I found it and my confidence had greatly diminished. The things I’d crafted at Gran’s were more powerful than what filled the workshop, and they had enchantments of equal or greater complexity. The problem was I’d made them without understanding how. Finding something I understood was refreshing. Unless I was wrong, the symbols on the ends of the tube formed an enchantment to draw water in one end and expel it at the other. Since there were no moving parts, ‘magic pump’ seemed as good a name as any.
We had water in the apartment, and the fields were irrigated by gravity, so I had no use for the pump. I left it on the bench and went back to the apartment to find an early dinner.
Ivy had returned while I explored the workshop. I found her dumping a sack of dirt on the stone of the living room floor. Then she spread the dirt and patted it flat with her hands. I watched the bizarre scene in silence. Ivy never turned toward me, but she always seemed to know where I was.
“Hello, Jack, did you find anything useful?” she asked.
“No, not really,” I said. The dirt smoothing continued. “I noticed you’ve been bringing dirt up to the apartment…”
Hard not to notice.
“Obviously,” Ivy said, still patting. “You said you wanted to live here, didn’t you?”
“I’m not sure how they’re related.”
I really wasn’t.
“I told you that we need more than food,” Ivy said. “I’m unable to draw nourishment from the rock or the winds. I draw it from earth and living things. So, I need to make this place more hospitable.”
“With dirt? Can’t we keep it in a barrel or something?”
“Not dirt, soil. I won’t leave it this way.”
Ivy closed her eyes and sang. It sounded like the song she’d sung out in Gran’s garden. The surface of the dark soil became green. Thick moss spread from Ivy’s bare feet, filled the living room and continuing down the hallway. Here and there, the moss was punctuated by tiny blue flowers. It was tough, springy, and very comfortable underfoot. The smell was… mossy. I thought the show was over, but then creepers grew and climbed the walls, covering them in ivy. White blooms the size of dinner plates blossomed around me. In seconds our cave-like home became a fairy cavern. No pun intended.
“That’s better,” Ivy said.
She smiled up at me. I wasn’t sure if it was an improvement or not, but if it made Ivy happy, it was fine with me.
“I found this.” I held out the bow. “I thought you might want it.”
Ivy took the weapon and examined it. She drew it, showing no strain.
“A magnificent bow,” she said. “It feels as if it was meant for me.”
“It’s nicer than the one I made.” That was an understatement.
“No bow can replace the one you made for me, Jack. This will come close. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I just carried it here. Although, technically, I made this one too.”
“I shall treasure it.”
Ivy couldn’t take her eyes from the bow. She plucked the string, and the sweet, clear note that resonated throughout the room might have come from a harp. I waited for the note to fade before asking my remembered question.
“Ivy?”
She looked up from the bow, “Yes?”
“Is it possible that we aren’t alone on the island?”
“Anything is possible, but it’s very unlikely.”
“Why’s that?”
“I would sense another presence.” Ivy sat on the edge of a chair with bow across lap. “Now that I’m tied to the island, I have a connection to the life residing upon it. The day after the raiders left, I sent my senses forth to seek out any other people. I felt only your aura and my own.” That was a relief. “Why do you ask?”
“I just thought I saw something, and I’ve had the feeling that I was being watched, but if you can sense the whole island…”
“I don’t sense the whole island continuously. It requires effort and time.”
“So it’s possible there’s somebody else here.”
“It is doubtful. Only one with the talents to hide from my search could now share the island with us. There are few races on this world with such talents, making it very unlikely.”
Chapter 7 – Pumps and Plans
The next day I returned to searching the workshop. I’d only made it through a cursory inspection of about half of the content the day before. Two things stood out in my mind as being off. The first was that a good third of the items were unfinished. I didn’t understand enough to guess whether that was because Marielain had become bored or was unable to make them work. The second thing I’d noticed about the shop and the apartment was the absence of books. There were no books on shelves or anywhere I could see. People who make things and experiment typically record their successes and failures. I thought it unlikely that my former self was any different. Gran had kept her real library locked in the attic, but, with the imp
enetrable security our new home had, that would have been unnecessary.
My morning was spent looking at more objects and contraptions that I didn’t understand. Near midday, I found the first documents I’d seen in the place. A wide workbench near the back contained plans for a boat. A dozen huge sheets were filled with details of construction, and on the bottom lay a sectional drawing of the complete boat. Marielain’s design would have drawn stares at any marina on Earth, but it was unquestionably a small sailboat. Estimating from the size of parts, such as the rudder handle, I guessed it to be around thirty feet long. The ‘paper’ was thick and strong, and felt like thin canvas. Amazingly, it was still flexible after waiting on the bench for centuries. Sir Andriel said he’d watched Marielain Blackhammer sail alone through the gates when he was a boy, and I’d have bet an arm and a leg that I was looking at plans for that same boat.
A quick inspection of the area around the workbench provided me with many of the metal fittings and extraneous parts shown in the drawings. There were almost enough spares to make another entire boat! Mainly, I was missing the wood. I couldn’t help grinning. There was a warehouse full of lumber down in the city, and if Marielain had built a boat, the tools needed were certain to be among the thousands lining the workshop and smithy. We couldn’t use a boat to leave the island, thanks to the vine, but it might serve other useful purposes. I hurried back for lunch, hoping Ivy had returned for a midday break.
***
Ivy was back for lunch, but she wasn’t as excited about my planned boatbuilding as I was.
“We can’t go anywhere,” she said. “It sounds like a waste of time. Do you know how to sail?”
I’d had a handful of sailing lessons at summer camp, so the real answer was no.
“I’ve done a little sailing,” I said. “We can figure it out through trial and error. It might not matter anyway.”
