by Colt, K. J.
So she knew everything. This was bad. Really bad. Blaise couldn’t let her go to the Council with this information, but how was he supposed to stop her? “Look, Augusta,” he said, thinking on his feet, “I think you misunderstood the situation. It’s true that I tried to create an intelligent object, but I failed. I didn’t succeed—”
“Don’t lie to me!” she yelled, and he was struck by her uncharacteristic loss of composure. He had never seen her in this kind of state before; in all the years that he’d known her, she’d raised her voice only a handful of times.
“I know you had Lenard’s notes, which you hid from everyone,” she said furiously. “You are the ultimate hypocrite. You, who always said knowledge should be shared, even with the common people. Oh, and before you insult me with any more lies, you should know that I used that droplet in your Sphere. I know that you created it and that it took human shape—and I saw your perverted reaction to it.” If looks could kill, the expression on her face would have left him in a pile of dust.
“You’re wrong,” Blaise said heatedly, figuring he had nothing left to lose. “It lived for a while, but it went back to the Spell Realm shortly after I made that recording. Its Physical Realm manifestation was not stable. You saw the notes; you know I left its physical form open-ended.”
She stared at him, her eyes bright with emotion. “Liar. I don’t believe a single word you’re saying. You don’t even know what you’ve done. This thing could lead to the extinction of our entire race—”
“What?” Blaise said incredulously. “How could it lead to the extinction of our race? Even if it was stable, that doesn’t make sense—”
“It’s not human!” Augusta was clearly beside herself. “It’s an unnatural creature with unimaginable powers. You don’t know what it’s capable of; for all you know, it could wipe us out with one blink of its pretty blue eyes!”
“Augusta, listen to me,” Blaise tried to reason with her. “She is intelligent—highly intelligent. She would have no reason to do something so cruel. With intelligence comes benevolence. I have always believed that—”
“Just because you believe it, doesn’t mean it’s true,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. “And even if you’re right, even if this thing doesn’t intend us any harm now, its mere existence puts us all in jeopardy. If it has its own intelligence—an unnatural intelligence that was created, not born—it can spawn more creatures like itself, perhaps even smarter and more powerful. Then those new abominations will create something even more frightening, and this cycle can go on until we are nothing but ants to these beings. They will stomp on us, like we’re nothing more than cockroaches. Mark my words, this will be the beginning of the end.”
Blaise stared at Augusta in shock, struck by the idea of Gala creating others like herself. He hadn’t considered this possibility before, but it made sense in a strange way. Except he didn’t see it as a bad thing, the way Augusta did. In fact, he thought with excitement, this could be the development that would finally change their world for the better. He pictured highly intelligent, all-knowing, all-powerful beings that would view humanity as their parent race . . . and the vision was tremendously appealing.
Then another possibility occurred to him. If he succeeded in his goal of getting to the Spell Realm and gaining powers, then the line between the beings he just envisioned and humans would become blurred anyway. Even if Augusta’s fears had some basis in reality—which he strongly doubted—humans could end up being equals of these marvelous creatures.
Of course, sharing these thoughts with Augusta would not be the smartest move at this point. “Look, Augusta, even if you’re right,” he said instead, “these beings would not want to harm us. They would be too much like us. With higher intelligence, they will surely possess a morality that will be above ours. We don’t have anything to fear—”
“You’re a fool.” Augusta’s expression was full of scorn. “Does morality stop you from squashing a pesky insect?”
“If I knew the little critter was self-aware, I would not kill it.” Blaise was firmly convinced of that fact. “And if I knew it was my creator, I certainly would not.”
“You’re just blinded by lust,” she hissed, her beautiful features twisting into something ugly. “It’s not human! This creature of yours is not real. It’s not going to love you, like you want it to. Did you design it to be capable of emotions? Of love?” And without giving Blaise a chance to respond, she said snidely, “No, of course you didn’t. You didn’t even know it would look like a woman.”
Blaise felt an answering flare of anger, and he suppressed it with effort. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said evenly. “You don’t know her—”
“Oh, and you do?” Her eyes narrowed into slits.
“Are you jealous?” Blaise asked in disbelief. “Is that what this is? You and I are over. We’ve been over ever since you voted to murder my brother!”
“Jealous?” She looked livid now. “Why would I be jealous of this, this . . . thing? It’s nothing more than a few strings of code and life experiences of some dirty peasants. I have a man now—a real man, not some hermit hiding among his books and theories!”
“Good,” Blaise snapped, hanging on to his temper by a thread. “Then you won’t interfere in my life again—”
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t,” she said, her voice low and furious. “It’s not me you’ll be dealing with—it’s the Council.” And she began walking down the stairs, toward Blaise.
“You will not go to those cowards with this!” Blaise felt his own anger starting to spiral out of control. He would not let the Council kill another person he cared about.
“I’m going to do whatever I want,” she said sharply. “And you’re going to face the consequences of your actions, just like Louie did—”
At the mention of his brother, Blaise felt something snap. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said fiercely, physically blocking the stairs.
“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” Her eyes were blazing like fire. Her hand flashed toward him, slapping him across the face before he realized what she was about to do.
His face stinging and his mind in turmoil, Blaise caught her wrist before she could strike him again. She screamed with rage, yanking her arm out of his grasp and stumbling back a few steps. And before Blaise could do anything, he heard her starting to recite the words of a familiar deadly spell.
Blaise’s blood boiled in his veins. He’d never done battle with another sorcerer like this, but he recognized what she was doing. She was about to hit him with a blast of pure heat energy—a spell that would incinerate him on the spot.
His mind oddly clear despite his heart racing in his chest, he started chanting his own spell. It was what he used to protect himself during particularly dangerous experiments. A few key phrases and an Interpreter litany later, he was surrounded by a magical force structure that embedded nothingness in its walls. And just as he finished and saw the telltale shimmer in the air, Augusta’s spell hit.
It was like the sun had descended into his house. Even through his shield, Blaise felt the unbearable heat. Within seconds, he was covered with sweat. All around him, the walls and furniture were on fire, and thick, acrid smoke filled the staircase.
“Augusta!” he yelled, terrified for her. Without a protective spell of her own, she would be burned to a crisp.
A moment later, however, the smoke began to clear, and Blaise saw her standing on the top of the staircase, still very much alive. The wave of relief that washed over him was strong and immediate; no matter what she’d done, he couldn’t wish his former lover dead—not even if it meant that Gala would be safe.
Of course, right now he had to save his house. Thinking frantically, Blaise recalled a verbal spell he’d used in his youth—a spell that would wash his hands in a matter of seconds. All he needed to do was enhance its potency.
As he began saying the words, he could hear Augusta starting her own verbal coding effort.
It distracted him for a second, and he realized that she was working on a teleporting spell for herself. If his own spell failed, Blaise would be the only one to burn.
Shutting out her voice, he focused on his code, changing some parameters to have the soapy water multiplied a thousand fold. Foam started streaming from his hands, covering the blazing fire all around him in a matter of seconds. Now he could pay attention to Augusta—only it was too late.
Just as he started up the stairs, she finished her own spell and disappeared into thin air.
She couldn’t have gotten far—long-distance teleportation was difficult under the best circumstances and required far more precise calculations than what she would’ve had time to do—but all she needed was to get out the door and to her chaise. Still, even knowing the futility of his actions, Blaise rushed down the stairs and out of the house.
And in the distance, he saw a red chaise flying rapidly away. Pursuit at this stage would be pointless and dangerous.
Still shaking with anger in the aftermath of the confrontation, Blaise went back into his house, determined to salvage as much of it as he could. When he entered, he saw that the foam had contained the fire in the hallway and on the stairs. It was only when he went upstairs that he learned the full extent of Augusta’s wrath.
His entire study—all the notes he’d made, all his journals, everything from the past year—was gone.
Somehow she had managed to burn everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Gala
AFTER THE MEAL, A CHANGE of clothing, and numerous instructions on how to appear more like a commoner, Gala was finally on her way to see the rest of the village.
Walking through the streets, she studied the small, cheerful-looking houses and stared at the peasants passing by—who stared right back at her. “Why are they looking at me?” she whispered to Maya after two men almost fell off a horse trying to get a good look at her. “Is it because I look strange and different?”
“Oh, you look different, all right.” Maya chuckled. “Even in that plain dress, you’re probably the prettiest woman they have ever seen. If you didn’t want to be gawked at, we should’ve put a potato sack over your head.”
“I don’t think I would like that,” Gala said absentmindedly, noticing a large gathering up ahead. Stopping, she pointed at the crowd. “What is that?”
“Looks like the court is meeting for judgment,” said the old woman, frowning. She was about to turn away and walk in another direction, but Gala headed toward the gathering and the two women had no choice but to tag along.
“Um, Gala, I don’t think that’s the best place for you,” Esther said, huffing and puffing to keep up with Gala’s brisk pace.
Gala shot her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Esther, but I really want to see this.” She had read a little bit about laws and justice, and she had no intention of passing up this opportunity.
Before her escorts had a chance to voice another objection, Gala walked straight into the gathering, which seemed to be taking place in a miniature version of the Town Square she’d seen in Turingrad.
There was a platform in the middle of the square, and a few people were standing on it. Two bigger men were holding a smaller one, who appeared quite young to Gala’s inexperienced eye. The youngster looked like he wanted to run away, the expression on his round-cheeked face that of fear and distress. Near the platform, Gala could see a group of similar-looking people—a family, she guessed. They looked angry for some reason.
A white-haired older man, who was standing on the platform, began to speak. “You are accused of horse theft,” he said, addressing the lad, and Gala could hear the disapproving murmuring in the crowd. Even Maya and Esther shook their heads, as though chiding the young horse thief. “What have you to say to this charge?” the white-haired man continued, his dark eyes prominent in his weathered face.
“I am sorry,” the young man said, his voice shaking. “I will never to do it again, I promise. I didn’t mean any harm—I just wanted to have some fun . . .”
The white-haired man sighed. “Do you know what they do to horse thieves in other territories?” he asked.
The lad shook his head.
“They hang them in the north, and they chop their heads off in the east,” the old man said, giving the youngster a stern look.
The horse thief visibly paled. “I’m sorry! I truly didn’t mean it—”
“Luckily for you, we do things differently here,” the old man interrupted, cutting off the lad’s pleas. “Master Blaise does not believe in that kind of punishment. Because you admitted your guilt and because the horse was returned to its rightful owners, your punishment is to work on the farm of the people you stole from for the next six months. During that time, you will help them in any way you can. You will clean their stables, repair their house, bring them water from the well, and perform whatever other tasks you are capable of doing.”
A middle-aged man from the family Gala had noticed before stepped forward, addressing the white-haired man. “Mayor, with all due respect, our children would have starved without that horse, with the drought and all—”
The mayor held up his hand, stopping the man’s diatribe. “Indeed. However, fortunately for you and for the accused, you got your horse back safe and sound, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Mayor,” the man admitted sheepishly.
“In that case, the thief will make up for his crime by helping out at your farm. Hopefully, this will teach him the value of hard work.”
The middle-aged man still looked unhappy, but it was obvious that he had no choice. This was the punishment for the horse thief, and he had to accept it.
“And with that,” the mayor announced, “the court is over for today. You can all go forth and enjoy the fair.”
“The fair?” Gala asked, curious about the sudden wave of excitement in the crowd.
“Oh yes,” a young woman to her right replied. “Didn’t you hear? We’ve got the spring fair starting today. It’s right on the other side of the village.” And with that, she flounced off, apparently eager to get to this event.
Gala grinned. The girl’s enthusiasm was contagious. “Let’s go,” she told Maya and Esther, starting to walk in the direction where she saw most people heading.
“What? Wait, Gala, let’s discuss this . . .” Maya hurried after her, looking anxious.
“What is there to discuss?” Gala continued walking, feeling like she would burst from excitement. “Didn’t you hear what that woman said? I’m going to this fair!”
“This is not a good idea,” Esther muttered under her breath. “I’m pretty sure this is not what Blaise meant when he said to make sure she doesn’t draw any attention to herself. Her at the fair—she’s going to get attention galore!”
“Yes, well, how do you intend to stop her?” Maya muttered back, and Gala smiled at their exchange. She liked having the freedom to do what she wanted, and she intended to see and experience as much of this village as she could.
The fair was as amazing as Gala had thought it might be. There were merchants all over the place, their colorful stalls displaying various goods and interesting-looking food products. Right beside them, there were games and attractions, and Gala could hear laughter, loud voices, and music everywhere. In the center of the fair, there was a big platform where she could see young people dancing.
Gala approached a merchant closest to her. “What are you selling?” she asked him.
“I have the best dried fruit at the fair, for you or your mother and aunt.” He smiled widely, offering Gala a handful of raisins.
She took a couple and put them in her mouth, enjoying the burst of sweet flavor on her tongue. Esther took out a small coin and gave it to the merchant, thanking him, and they continued on their way.
“Ale for the ladies?” a man yelled out from one of the stalls. There were huge barrels stacked on each side of him, and Gala wondered if they contained this ale he was offering.
&
nbsp; “I will get some,” she said, curious to try the drink she’d read about.
“No, you won’t,” Esther said immediately, frowning. “I don’t want you drunk on your very first day with us.”
“Oh, come on, let the lass have some fun,” the ale merchant cajoled. “She won’t feel more than a little buzz from just one drink.”
“All right, fine,” Maya grumbled, handing a coin to the man. “Just one drink.”
Gala grinned. She would’ve tried this ale regardless, but she was glad she didn’t have to argue with the two women.
Looking satisfied, the merchant took a mug, walked over to the pile of barrels, and started pouring from one of them into the mug. Gala noticed the way the barrels shook with the man’s movements, as though swaying in the wind.
“Hurry up,” a male voice said behind Gala. Turning around, she saw a young, well-built man standing there. As soon as he saw Gala’s face, his eyes widened, and his cheeks turned red. He mumbled an apology, his gaze traveling from the top of her head all the way down to her toes.
Gala gave him a small smile and turned around to look at the merchant again. She was getting used to these stares.
The merchant handed her the mug, and she took a sip, swirling the drink around her mouth to better taste it. It wasn’t nearly as delicious as the raisins, but it did send a warm feeling down her body. Liking the sensation, Gala downed the mug in several large gulps and heard chuckles from the men standing in line behind her.
“You should pace yourself,” Maya admonished, and Esther gave Gala another frown.
“I’ve never had ale before,” Gala tried to explain, not wanting the two women to worry. “I think I like it even better than your stew.” Turning to the merchant, she asked, “Can I have another one?”
At this, Maya grabbed Gala’s hand and dragged her away from the confused ale merchant and his customers. Gala let herself be led only as far as the next stall and then stood her ground firmly.
