“My concern is about those ‘electromagnetic and quantum anomalies’ -- that’s the sort of phrasing our ancestors used when they encountered magic. Tell me, were there any signs of Alka Alon habitation there?”
Minimal, but present. There was no Alka Alon settlement there. The only indigenous peoples reported within the Caldera Zone were a few tribes of Tal Alon living a marginal existence on the periphery, in one of the fertile areas. But as there had been little in the way of detailed ecological cataloging, and a significant amount of time has passed, it is possible that my information is not entirely accurate.
“A lot has happened,” I conceded. “As you mentioned, this legendary place is home to some exotic materials. If I can secure them there, it would go a long way toward protecting humanity’s interest on Callidore. ‘Defending the future viability of the Colony,’ as you would say.”
I understand, Minalan. If humanity has adapted to the presence of the quantum field anomalies to the extent of detection and manipulation, I can see why you would be interested in the region and its composition.
“And the way to get there,” I added. “It’s supposedly a long, difficult journey beyond the mountains, and through a great poisonous wasteland. And that’s before you get to the freezing tundra. An expedition can only be attempted in summer,” I advised. “But legend has it that a large one was sent there a few generations ago, so there may yet be humans living there. If you have any speculation about an overland route you could offer, that would be valuable.”
I can provide some elementary guidance, based upon my existing data. I would be willing to detail it for you.
“Thank you, I’ll have Ruderal come by and – wait, no, he’s with his dad. I’ll see if Gareth can be spared. He’d probably enjoy that, after the stress of managing an entire town during a war. He’ll be better at understanding you, anyway.”
I have done my best to simplify my speech to suit the educational level of each of those I’ve spoken with. Please understand that my understanding of the Narasi language is still formative. I am improving with every conversation. I hope to facilitate this expedition. I believe it is important.
“Oh, no criticism was meant,” I assured. “I’m just trying to get the most effective result. You do seem pretty eager about this, though. I can’t help but wonder why.”
According to my records, the planned Unger facility was to have a substantial amount of scientific equipment installed in a hardened complex designed to be able to sustain significant geologic disturbance. I am inferring from the data that the equipment would include a direct uplink facility to the CalSat network.
“Once again, we reach the limit of my understanding,” I confessed. “Can you explain in simpler terms?”
During the early colonization period, a number of artificial devices were installed high in the sky. These machines could speak with each other, as well as to planetary stations equipped with direct satellite uplink facilities. They were used to look at the ground from great height and in a variety of wavelengths. They also facilitated global communications and traffic to and from the New Horizon and other orbital facilities considered essential to the terraformation and colonization process.
“Lilastien has explained the Calsat . . . thing, before,” I nodded. “They’re like thaumaturgical constructs equipped with sympathy stones and other advanced enchantments, perpetually flying overhead, beyond the atmosphere. And she mentioned the ‘orbital habitats.’ But how will that help us?” I asked. We had giant birds for that sort of thing, now.
Consider that the CalSat network should be stable indefinitely, the machine explained. It was designed for long-term utility during the colonization process. In addition to routing data to and from the surface, the CalSat network also had the capability to retain that data. If I can reconnect to the CalSat system through the means of a ground station uplink, I will be able to update my files concerning subsequent colonial history. Including, I hope, a record of the course of the colonial government’s downfall.
“That’s interesting from a historical perspective,” I acknowledged, “but I don’t see how it is immediately helpful. Besides, that would mean packing you back up in a crate and hauling you all the way to Anghysbel.”
Anghysbel? I have no record of that designation.
“Nor do most of the folk in the Wilderlands, and believe me, I’ve asked,” I grumbled. “Anghysbel was the name given to the domain that was established in the . . . the . . . Northwest Reserve Caldera Zone, I think you called it, around a century ago, in a few scant records we’ve found. But, apart from that, almost no one knows about the place. Old dotards who have lived here their entire lives haven’t heard of it. But that’s what they called it.”
That is concerning, the machine said, without much trace of concern in its voice. The Caldera Zone was restricted from permanent habitation due to the geological instability and exotic toxic chemicals found at the site. Additional concern was voiced over the dangerous native flora and fauna. Any human habitation there would be, by necessity, temporary.
“But you said the colonists built a research outpost there,” I pointed out.
An outpost that could be evacuated by air quickly, in the event of an eruption, severe earthquake, or other environmental disaster, Forseti explained. The likelihood of an iron age culture maintaining a continued presence there indefinitely is low. I am afraid that the settlement you are seeking is likely extinct, by now.
“Not much of an optimist, are you?” I challenged. “The people aren’t why I’m going. I need a . . . a kind of a rock or mineral, I suppose you could say, one of those dangerous, exotic substances that is reputed to be available there. And it is, technically, the northernmost domain within my realm. But I’m still trying to understand why I should lug you all the way there when you are essentially blind.”
Perhaps I did not communicate effectively. If I am able to make contact with the CalSat network, not only will I gain a complete history of the colony until its collapse, I will also gain access to the classified government files that detail, among other things, the status of the ongoing negotiations with the Vundel. That would include specifics of the original colonization agreement and subsequent changes to that agreement that you may find helpful in your current situation.
I thought about that a moment. While I had learned the basics of our “lease” from the Vundel through conversations with the Alka Alon (including some rather candid ones with Lilastien), I really didn’t know much in the way of specifics. That could be invaluable, in my negotiations with them.
Vital, even.
Yet I knew that all such records were long lost. Most had sunk with Perwyn’s cities. What was left had been through resettlement, the Conquest, and translation. Forseti was offering me a chance to go back and read the original contract.
“All right, you make a compelling argument. It looks like we’re both going to Anghysbel, then,” I sighed.
***
When I returned to Vanador that evening, Moudrost was awaiting me in my solar . . . along with Ruderal.
The two sat on opposite sides of the small room when I arrived, but they were not behaving poorly. Indeed, they were chatting civilly about the battle, the city, and other inconsequential things. That changed, the moment they saw me. They both stood, but while Moudrost gave me a welcoming bow, Ruderal took his usual position on my flank as my apprentice.
“Your Excellency,” Moudrost began, when I invited him to retake his seat. “I am afraid I must be away. While I found the time spent with my son invaluable, I have tarried in Vanador too long already. I must report back to my pod before the spring schooling begins. I trust our earlier agreement is still in effect?”
“Yes, of course,” I nodded. “One mountain in return for three years’ time in which to study the matter. And notification of when and where the mountain will be taken from. In return for a number of valuable and intriguing materials from the Vundel. Yes, we have a contract.”
&n
bsp; The seamage gave me a bow of recognition, satisfied at our bargain . . . but then his face turned far more serious. “My lord, now that our business has concluded, I feel I owe you some report of my union with my son, Ruderal.”
“That is your business, and his. You need not share it, if you prefer,” I insisted.
“I feel compelled,” the wizard assured me in his rough, salt-stained voice. “It was the greatest surprise to learn that Ruderal existed, and that my Chaterny survived. We have . . . we have made some degree of peace on the subject,” he said, catching Ruderal’s eye. The boy nodded once in return. “It is not the sturdiest of relationships, but the keel has been laid; it is one that can grow.
“Firstly, I want to give you my thanks and gratitude for the opportunity you have given my son, Count Minalan. I can only credit fate for seeing him through his dangerous life to the haven of your household.”
“Ruderal is not only extremely Talented,” I pointed out, “but he is a lad of rare courage, insight, and intelligence. Not to mention compassionate and wise – all outstanding characteristics for a wizard. I hope to see him become a great one.”
“Then we share a destination,” Moudrost agreed, stroking his beard. “I have a few years left in my service to the Brethren. I had delayed any thought of my life after, in despair of leaving it, but Ruderal – and Chaterny – give me something to look forward to.
“But more,” he added, guiltily, “they give me new perspective. Having a child – learning I had a child – has shifted my course. I find myself suddenly fearful of something a week ago I had no idea I possessed. My investment in this world was once limited to my own life, and that life in service to the Brethren. Now . . . I find I have other responsibilities.”
“That transformation is wrought in the soul of every father,” I agreed, solemnly. “The good ones, at least.”
“I would chart no other course than to be the best father I can manage, to Ruderal,” he assured me. “But that presents other difficulties. For a Sea Brother to have a family is forbidden,” he informed me. “Attachments on the Dry are supposed to taint our duty as intercessory betwixt the Vundel and humans. Though I have but a few years left in service, those could be cut short if Ruderal’s existence is revealed to my superiors.”
“I would harm no man’s calling by sharing information that was not mine to share,” I assured him.
“I would gladly resign the rest of my term, to return to a . . . a family on the Dry,” he admitted. “Nor would there be any punishment in a case such as this. That is not what concerns me.
“In discussing matters with my son beyond our reunion,” he continued, uneasily, “he shared . . . and you showed me . . . certain enchantments that the Vundel would find shocking for you to have meddled with.”
“The Handmaiden,” I nodded toward the Magolith that followed me everywhere. I did my best to appear with a trace of guilt about the subject. That wasn’t hard, though it wasn’t the Handmaiden was not what I was feeling guilty about. “I was forced by circumstance to create it. And yes, Ruderal was instrumental in its construction,” I acknowledged.
“While I am proud of my son for his aptitude,” he said, flashing a brief smile at the boy, “and he explained the necessity of acquiring it – as well as the tremendous effort -- the issue lies in the nature of the enneagram you appropriated.”
“It had to be the Handmaiden,” I reasoned. “She was the only creature in lore we found which could restore my wife. And it’s working,” I assured him.
“A remarkable feat,” he conceded. “Such a being has not been seen on this world in more than a hundred thousand years,” he informed me. “Once, they tended the Great Mothers who ruled over the Vundel. I had but a moment to examine it, but it appears to be coming to consciousness inside that construct. Am I incorrect?”
“The thaumaturgical medium in which the crystal is suspended does seem to be encouraging it to develop a pronounced sentience,” I offered, cautiously. “Occasionally, when I am working with the Magolith, I get fleeting impressions of consciousness.”
Moudrost looked troubled. “My friend, if the Vundel learned of this . . . it would be problematic,” he said, softly.
“I guessed as much,” I sighed. “But I continue to require the Handmaiden. Alya is better, but she is by no means repaired. What do you think the Vundel would do if they did learn?”
“That depends on factors that I do not have the wit to understand,” he admitted. “Even after my service, my fellows and I can only guess at our masters’ directions, their goals, their objectives. In this matter . . . I have no inkling. But I fear that they will decide to seize it for themselves without the benefit of negotiation,” he predicted. “They would feel within their rights to do so. They would consider hatching the ay-mosathin spawn and sending them to secure it.”
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“Master, Moudrost tells me that the ay-mosathin are specialized vassals of the Vundel,” Ruderal explained, helpfully. “Terrible creatures used only for missions on the Dry. He says they were bred for an earlier age, but there are a still a few eggs in the sea that the local pods could use. Even one of them would be comparable to a dragon. They’re amphibious.”
Moudrost nodded in agreement. “I have only seen depictions and heard the lore of them. But if the Vundel decide that you have offended them, they could also decide to come and take it from you. Or your descendants,” he added. “It usually takes them a while to make up their mind.”
“That’s a relief,” I sighed. “Are you going to reveal its existence?”
“I am bound to answer any question I am asked truthfully,” he explained. “Before I knew of Ruderal, I very well might have. As things stand, I cannot imperil the son I have yet to get to know,” he decided. “Nor do I see you using the artifact maliciously. Therefore I see no compelling reason to report upon it. The Spellmonger has many interesting enchantments in his realm. I need not detail every one,” he suggested.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I thank you for that. I hope that my successful understanding of the Snowstone spell will give me some leverage in the future, should they eventually learn of it.”
“Oh, they will,” he assured me, regretfully. “I can delay the discovery, but by only a few years, at most. You do not fully understand the role of the Handmaiden, Minalan. Neither do I, but I understand enough to know that – eventually – the Vundel will learn of her. And once they do, there is nothing I can do to protect you. Or anyone else.”
“What would you suggest?”
“Be cautious in its use. Try not to attract more attention to yourself than you have. You are only noted, at this point, because you produced snowstone. Pray you are not noted for perverting the ancestors of the Vundel. Once you do come to their notice, nothing will be the same again.”
“What would happen if I came across some other remnant of their ancient civilization?” I asked. “We encounter fossilized corals, Ghost Rock, and other remnants of it, from time to time. The Handmaiden won’t be the last. Indeed, most of the constructs we use are salvaged from the enneagrams left in Ghost Rock. How do we know what will arouse them?”
“You don’t,” Moudrost sighed, heavily. “Nor do I. Nor do the Alka Alon. The Vundel, themselves, are the only ones who do. You do not understand how badly they yearn for a Great Mother to return from oblivion and take charge, to repair the great damage done to Callidore. For millennia they have sought a solution, but to no avail. The best they could manage was to import foreign agents and hope for some recovery. But without a Great Mother to guide them and order them, they despair,” he revealed.
“Why is that?” I asked, curious.
“Because the Great Mothers ordered the seas and kept the Vundel . . . ordered,” he said, settling on the word. “The Vundel and a great many other species. Without them, all seems chaos in the Depths. But the great danger comes from the lack of a Celestial Mother. You are familiar with the term?
”
“Lilastien, our resident expert on the Vundel, informed me. Like the Great Mothers, only . . . greater?”
“They were more than supreme agents of order in a chaotic world,” Moudrost said, solemnly. “They steered the very stars.” He paused for a moment. “How much of Alka Alon mythology do you know?”
“Not nearly enough. A few of the greater epics, is all. It seems terribly elaborate, for mythology.”
“It is not their gods and heroes I refer to. The Alka Alon refer to the ‘realms of light and darkness’,” he explained. “These are not poetic devices, Minalan. The Realms of Darkness are shielded from the Great Eye and its many children. In these realms, magic exists. Callidore is within that protective darkness. As was the world of the Alon, and that of the moonriders. The world of our ancestors, Terra, was within the Realm of Light.”
“Where no magic existed,” I supplied. “Lilastien has explained that much, as well. And it is confirmed by other sources. So, this Great Eye burns magic away, or magic thrives in the darkness, or some variation of that. Am I correct?”
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