by Zales, Dima
She gazed up at him, her amber eyes reflecting the lights. “You’re right—it’s gorgeous.”
Blaise felt a familiar warmth in his chest, a type of tenderness mixed with overwhelming desire. Even after seven years together, Augusta was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen—not to mention, the most intelligent. Minor philosophical disagreements aside, she was everything he had ever wanted.
It was time, Blaise decided. He had waited for the perfect moment, and it wasn’t ever going to get better than this.
Reaching out, he took her hand, holding it gently. Then he lifted her palm to his lips, kissing each finger in the traditional declaration of intent. Her eyes rounded with wonder, her soft mouth parting in surprise, and he quickly spoke the words: “Augusta, my love, will you be my bride?”
She blinked, staring at him, and then a smile of sheer joy lit her face. “Yes . . . Yes, Blaise, of course.”
He had never been so happy in his life.
* * *
Regaining her senses, Augusta opened her eyes, feeling the burn of tears. She hadn’t known that Blaise had captured the memory of their engagement; he must’ve been recording it without telling her. She recalled that he did have a big bag with him that day, but she hadn’t known he was lugging around the new Sphere his brother gave him.
The ache in her chest was almost unbearable. For a moment, she felt like she had lost Blaise all over again. Seeing herself through his eyes had been devastating. In recent months with Barson, she had managed to convince herself that she was fine, that she had moved on from the wreck of her eight-year relationship, but the truth of the matter was that she would never be able to fully erase Blaise from her memories.
Getting up, she walked over to the window, gazing out at the streets of Turingrad far below. She could feel her cheeks getting wet from the tears running down her face, and she wiped them with the sleeve of her silk dress. More than ever, she wished that she could go back in time and undo everything that had happened in the last two years, but that was not even a theoretical possibility.
She had to live with the consequences of her actions . . . and so did Blaise. She couldn’t let her emotions get in the way of doing the right thing again, no matter how much it hurt.
Blaise’s creature could not be allowed to live, and this memory changed nothing.
Chapter 17: Blaise
At Blaise’s request, Liva took them to a more deserted part of the mountains. It was a safety precaution on his part—he did not want Gala to accidentally destroy half the forest with some spell gone awry. He didn’t explain his rationale, not wanting to hurt Gala’s feelings, and he knew she thought that he simply wanted them to enjoy the scenery—which did turn out to be truly breathtaking.
It took them about an hour to fly there, and Blaise used the time to teach Liva how to operate the chaise. As he’d suspected, she was a quick learner, mastering the new oral spells with ease. By the time they arrived at the location, she was directing and landing the chaise on her own, reveling in the freedom of using sorcery out of sight of her fellow villagers.
Gala sat quietly on the trip, seemingly absorbing the sights. As they got deeper into the mountains, the green of forest and grass was replaced by the yellow and orange of naked stones. The wind also picked up, blowing from the ocean side.
“The storms are more likely to reach here,” Liva explained when Blaise questioned her about the strange-looking rocks. “And even when it’s calm, like today, the winds tend to be pretty fierce, stripping away all life from these rocks over time.”
As they approached what looked like a large gash in the ground, Liva directed them to fly lower. They were going to a canyon, Blaise realized as they descended. Up close, the canyon was massive. The mountains were like walls, rising up all around them. It was desolate and majestic, and all three of them were silent as the chaise touched the ground, awed by the magnificence of nature.
After they explored the area a little, Blaise began his instructions. “I am going to teach you a very basic elemental spell,” he said, looking at the two women. “You will manipulate the power of fire, the way our apprentices usually do.”
Gala and Liva nodded, watching him intently.
“First and foremost, I need to teach you the language for written sorcery. It’s similar to the verbal arcane language—you still have the conditional statements that you both know—but it also contains some powerful extensions and mathematical constructs that don’t exist in the spoken language. This, for example—” he drew a symbol for loop on the card, “—is a repetition construct we call the ‘loop.’ It allows your spell to repeat an action many times without having to write it out more than once.”
“So it lets you say ‘do this one hundred times?’” Gala asked, looking fascinated.
“Yes, but it also lets you say things like ‘Raise the temperature of this water by one degree until it starts boiling,’” Blaise explained, and wrote out the spell version of what he just said. It was much more elegant and precise on the card than it would be if spoken.
For the next couple of hours, he continued going over the basics of the language, explaining how to use formulas and calculations on paper instead of doing complex math in one’s head. They took a short break to eat some of the food Liva had brought, and then Blaise continued the lesson.
“There are two paths to every spell,” he told them. “The hard way is to start from scratch and specify in code exactly what you want to happen. There are infinite ways of doing that, just as there are infinite ways of writing a poem using words. It’s also very time-consuming. An easier way, the way I am teaching you today, is to use something someone had already written in the past and modify it for your own purposes.”
Liva frowned. “So does that mean a commoner could learn to do some spells by just copying the symbols without understanding them?”
“Yes,” Blaise said, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice. “That had been my hope originally—that the Interpreter Stone would allow people to do this. But unfortunately, it didn’t quite work out that way. Theoretically, one could indeed do a spell by just copying something already in existence, but it still requires access to an Interpreter Stone—and the Council doesn’t let that happen.”
“And I would think many spells require at least some basic understanding of the language,” Gala said, looking at Blaise, “to change the variables and so on.”
“Yes, indeed,” Blaise confirmed, and moved on to the demonstration of the spell itself. Just thinking about the way sorcerers tried to keep this knowledge to themselves made him furious.
Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he pulled out a blank card and started writing, explaining every word and symbol along the way. Here, at least, he could make a difference by teaching sorcery to someone who needed it.
The spell he chose to demonstrate was a simple one. It would just burn some of the dried bushes near them. When he was done, he slid the finished card into the stone.
As expected, the bush to his right flared up, burning quickly in the dry air of the canyon.
It was Liva’s turn next.
Blaise watched as she carefully wrote out her spell, changing the variables to target a different bush. At first, it looked like she wasn’t going to provide enough kinetic energy for the bush to ignite, but then she caught her omission and fixed it before feeding the cards into the stone.
Within seconds, the targeted bush caught on fire as well, causing the older woman to squeal in excitement. Gala clapped, and Blaise grinned at them, pleased with his students’ progress.
“Now let me try,” Gala said, clearly eager to get started, and Blaise handed her the writing implements. To his surprise, the code that she began writing was different from what he had taught them. Apparently she had decided to improvise. While she was busy, Blaise surreptitiously wrote out a protection spell for Liva and himself, just in case anything went wrong.
When Gala was finished with her code, Blaise l
ooked over her cards. He was pretty sure he knew what would happen when the spell was cast, but he was still glad for the protection around them. “Go ahead,” he told Gala, and watched as she fed the cards into the Stone.
The targeted plant started to smolder, slowly and gracefully, one branch at a time. The pattern of this fire was unusually complex. Somehow Gala had managed to raise the temperature of the bush in parts, focusing on branches of specific length and dryness. And then, in what seemed like a coordinated way, the entire plant burst into flames.
“Beautiful,” Liva said, looking deeply impressed.
“Amazing,” Blaise agreed, echoing her sentiment.
“Thank you.” Gala’s cheeks glowed at their praise.
They kept discussing written spells until Liva confessed that she was tired. Gala and Blaise were not ready to quit yet, but Blaise graciously told Liva that they were done with lessons for the day. Gala looked slightly upset, and Blaise guessed that she wanted to stay in this starkly beautiful area for a while longer. “Why don’t you take the chaise?” he suggested to Liva. “Gala and I will remain here for a bit, look around. You can land it in the forest right next to the village, so the others won’t see you.”
Liva frowned. “But how will you get back?”
“I’ll summon the chaise when you’re done with it,” he told her, and spent the next couple of minutes convincing her to use this opportunity to practice her verbal spells. Liva finally gave in, climbing onto the chaise, and Blaise and Gala were left alone.
“I have a special spell I wrote for you,” he told Gala when the chaise disappeared into the distance. “It’s a gift.”
“A gift? Why?” Gala’s face brightened with excitement.
“Because you’re wonderful,” Blaise said softly, “and because I wanted to do something nice for you.”
“Oh, thank you—”
“First experience the gift, then decide if you want to thank me,” Blaise interrupted, smiling.
Taking a batch of cards, he loaded them into the Stone. He had conceived of this gift on the lake, when he was holding Gala in his arms. As the first strains of music sounded and Gala’s face took on a rapturous expression, he knew it had been a good idea. The spell was designed to vibrate the air in exactly the right way, to imitate the sound of instruments playing a tune.
“I wrote this melody for you,” he explained, watching as Gala closed her eyes, swaying to the music.
“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed after a few moments, opening her eyes to meet his gaze. “I heard your music before, in the village, but it was played with instruments. This seems more pure, somehow, and moves me even more. Can we dance to it?”
“Of course,” Blaise said, walking up to her. He had to agree with her in regard to the purity of the music. It was as though the dry yellow mountains decided to sing for them, as if nature itself wanted to express its love. The melody he created was meant to show how Gala made him feel, but it transcended something as simple as human feelings, resembling no earthly instruments.
Putting his hands on Gala’s waist, he slowly began moving to the tune. The beats of low frequency sounds echoed his racing heartbeat. She seemed to melt in his arms, their movement perfectly matching the slow, careful turns of the melody. It was as if they were attuned to each other, their bodies moving as one.
As the music reached a crescendo and started winding down, he leaned down and kissed her again, his breathing quickening as he felt the softness of her lips. His hands encircled her waist, pulling her even closer, when he heard something behind him.
Turning swiftly, he stared at the intruder, instinctively holding Gala pressed against his side.
“I am truly sorry to interrupt such a lovely dance, but we must talk, now,” the Council Leader said, looking directly at Blaise.
Chapter 18: Gala
“Gala, run. It’s Ganir, from the Council,” Blaise told her, pushing her behind him. His face was tight with anger. “Teleport away if you can. He might be the first of many.” As he was speaking, he pulled out his Stone and several cards, beginning to write on them with incredible speed.
The old man stepped toward them. “I am here by myself and with only peaceful intentions,” he said, opening his hands to show that they were empty. He sounded genuine to her, but she could see that Blaise was not convinced.
Deciding to humor Blaise and, at the same time, do something she’d wanted to do for a while, Gala looked inside herself. Learning to do sorcery using the code had indeed changed things for her, enabling her to better understand how she had accidentally been doing magic before—and, more importantly, how she might be able to control it. This was her chance to try a simple spell. If it didn’t work, then she intended to do as Blaise asked.
The spell she had in mind was quite different from anything she’d seen before, but it seemed fairly intuitive to her. She would be here, but neither man would know it—and for that, she needed to bend all the light around her in the right way.
She focused on the mathematics of the task, pretending that she was about to cast a spell using one of the methods Blaise had taught her today. It was a sham, though; deep inside, she knew that she had a direct route to achieving her goal. Going through the training made her realize that she didn’t need the cumbersome spoken word or its slightly more elegant written cousin. In a way, something like the Interpreter Stone was already built into her mind, and she could now sense it.
She took a deep breath, letting her mind clear. This time it happened quicker than when she had practiced at the lake. Then she focused on what she was hoping to achieve, mentally running through the proper calculations. A second later, everything went dark, as though she’d lost her vision. For a moment, Gala panicked, sure that she’d done something wrong, but then she realized what happened.
She had done too thorough of a job of bending light. The inner workings of her eyes needed to reflect some light in order to see. To fix this problem, she needed to make her eyes exempt from this spell, but that would probably result in a strange visual of eyeballs floating in the air, defeating the purpose of the invisibility spell. Oh well, Gala decided, maybe she didn’t need to see—hearing should be enough.
“She teleported?” Ganir asked, his voice penetrating the cocoon of darkness that encased Gala. “Just like that?”
“How did you find me?” Blaise demanded in a hard voice. Gala flinched, startled by the bitter anger she heard there. She’d never heard Blaise speak like that before, not even at the lake when he confronted the hunters.
“I used a locator spell on you,” Ganir answered calmly. “I placed it on you during our last encounter. You know how those things are pretty much unnoticeable.”
“You must’ve embedded it in the pacifying spell,” Blaise said, his voice sounding strained. Gala thought that, mixed with anger, she could hear a slight undertone of admiration.
“Yes, of course I did.” Ganir’s voice sounded like he was smiling. “You always were bright, my son.”
“Don’t call me that.” Blaise’s voice turned hard again. “Why are you here? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you on the spot.”
“Because I’m here to tell you something important.” Ganir paused, and Gala heard him take a deep breath. “The Council voted to move against you and your creation. They are preparing now, and it’s only a matter of time until they find you.”
Gala felt an unpleasant sensation that she identified as fear and resentment. Why couldn’t people leave her alone? She didn’t intend to harm anyone, not even those soldiers who’d attacked her before.
“Of course they’ll find me now,” Blaise said bitterly. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
“I have no intention of telling the Council anything,” Ganir said. “Isn’t it clear to you by now that I’m on your side?”
“Nothing is clear to me,” Blaise said harshly. “If you think I’m going to trust you this easily, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“Blaise . . . there’s something you should know.” Ganir’s voice sounded heavy now. “I have strong reason to believe that the vote during Louie’s trial—and on many other occasions—may have been subverted.”
“Subverted? What are you talking about?”
“Can you tell me how you learned about the vote being unanimous? Who told you that the entire Council, except you, voted in favor of Louie’s execution?”
Blaise snorted. “You think I’m going to tell you my source?”
“Was it Jandison?” Ganir persisted. “Blaise, please, this is very important. I think Jandison has been manipulating the Council vote for years. Ever since you and I spoke about Louie’s trial and you told me you thought I voted to kill him—when I knew full well that I hadn’t—I have been deeply suspicious of the voting procedure. And then I got a letter, an anonymous letter claiming that the vote during Louie’s trial had been rigged.”
“You think Jandison rigged the vote?” Blaise sounded incredulous. “Why? What would he have to gain by it?”
“Was it he?” Ganir sounded frustrated. “Blaise, was it Jandison who spoke to you after the vote?”
“What proof do I have that you’re not lying to me right now, trying to get me to betray something that I was told in confidence?” Blaise asked, and Gala could hear the simmering anger his voice.
“I can give you proof,” Ganir said. “I had a thorough look through my Life Capture archives, and I want you to take this.” Gala heard shuffling footsteps as Ganir presumably approached Blaise.
“If I take that droplet, I will be at your mercy,” Blaise said, still sounding uncompromising. Gala wished she could see what was happening, to better understand her creator’s emotional state.
“You are welcome to use it later to verify my words,” Ganir said. “This droplet contains my recollections of Louie’s trial, including my memory of voting against the execution.”
