“Why do I have to be the responsible one?” Aran sighed to himself, acting put upon. She could tell that he was secretly delighted, though. “We don’t want to start an international incident, remember? Aren’t you going to be good?”
“I’m going to be me.”
“Uh-oh.” His worried look needed more work. Aran’s evil delight seeped through.
Cackling, a skip in her step, Sevana shooed off any thoughts of diplomacy. She had Aran and a puzzle to solve. That took priority over everything else.
Sevana’s good humor survived approximately three hours before frustration reared its ugly head. She’d gone over every inch of the tunnel, the one that caused the most trouble when it came to shooting passengers down the wrong line. If there was a sloping issue here, it was impossible to tell from the inside.
The build of each tunnel was perfectly circular, the walls smooth to the touch in order to speed along the pods. Standing in the center of it, several hundred paces inside, she glared toward the darker section ahead. Only a lamp (or what passed for a lamp down here; it was actually a sea sparkle plankton captured in a glass tube) in her hand illuminated the area, and she growled toward the man standing behind her, “I don’t like this tunnel. It refuses to give up its secrets.”
“You want to go outside and do measurements, don’t you?” Aran’s tone made it less of a question than a statement.
“There’s no point trying to do this from the inside,” she argued, turning sharply on her heel. “The slope is too gradual; we literally cannot detect it within this space. I need something longer than twelve feet.”
He grimaced, but it was more in resignation than protest. Sevana knew they were due to be back for another treatment in four hours, and that this job would likely take more than four hours to complete if they had to walk out along the sea floor. But he also understood after watching her work that sometimes just facts and figures weren’t enough. To really grasp the situation properly, it was best if she could see it with her own eyes.
“I don’t wish to delay your treatments,” Aran stated slowly, gauging her reaction with every syllable out of his mouth.
Sevana appreciated that he was trying not to start an argument even as he put his own opinion out into the air. “I understand that. I don’t want to either. I don’t think I need to be out there for long. What I need is an answer for this particular tunnel. If I’m right, we can measure all of the others and get a better understanding for how the slope has changed. If I’m wrong, then I know to toss this theory.”
Relieved, he gave her a nod. “Alright. That’s sensible. Let’s go see if there’s any truth to this idea, then.”
Sevana had not wanted to go out without him, although she would have if he’d dug his heels in. This way was much better, as it meant less friction between them. Happy, she stretched her legs out in a speed walk, calling ahead of her as she moved, “LOMAN!”
A shadowy figure appeared at the end of the tunnel. “Yes, Artifactor?”
Strange how she was someone specific to different people. They each had their way of calling her, depending on the role she inhabited in their lives. Shaking off the thought, she focused. “Loman, I think we need to go outside and measure this.”
Loman’s head bobbed up and down, agreeing. “Yes, I think we can’t conclude anything from the measurements in here. I had Pol go and collect the surveyors. They’ll meet us outside.”
She really did like Loman. The man was quick on the uptake and not concerned about waiting hand and foot on her. It moved things along nicely. She reached him, but he was already half-turned, body language impatient to step out of their air bubble in this area and into the sea beyond the invisible walls. Assuming he would escort her outside himself, she fell into step with him, not surprised when Loman erected a barrier around the three of them so that they could continue to breathe.
Sevana had done this several times before, just stepping outside into the cool ocean water as if she had gills. Her body, however, was sharply aware that it did not have gills and the weight of the water above her head could crush her if she were unwary. Her survival instincts flinched as she stepped outside and it took extreme effort to keep panic at bay. Surely, after all of her experience, this should get easier?
Neither Loman or Arandur seemed to notice her reaction, and Sevana kept it carefully out of her body language and off her face as they proceeded forward. The rocks under her boots shifted, slick and wet, but they were in no hurry and didn’t try to jog. The exterior of the tubes were covered in thick meadows of Posidonia, the plants green, thin and blade-like. That intrigued Sevana, as she was sure that the plant could only survive at a specific depth under the ocean’s surface, as it had to have good light penetration to survive, and would die off if the water was too cloudy.
“Loman. For the record, how far down are we?”
“At this juncture?” Loman paused and looked around him. “I would say, perhaps a hundred and twenty feet?”
“Are all of the tunnels at that depth?”
“No, no, of course not. That varies depending on where the tunnels are. It’s why we can only go from station to station.”
Sevana nodded in understanding. The vacuum pull worked very well, of course, but it would be considerably slowed if the tunnel had large variations along the route. Too many ups and downs, curves, or slopes would disrupt it and make the interruption of the pods’ progress more statistically likely. Breaking it up between stations to make sure that the tunnels stayed as level and true as possible only made sense. “The builders of the system knew what they were doing.”
“Our history actually says it took much trial and error. Their first system was that of water pressure instead of air vacuum.” Loman cast her a wry smile.
Picturing this, Sevana snickered, not in sympathy for those ancient engineers. “How badly did that go?”
“Quite badly,” Loman answered blandly.
That might well be the understatement of the century. She almost asked another question, but movement out of the corner of her eye snagged her attention instead. Glancing over, she found that a team of mermen swam rapidly in their direction. Loman waved in greeting, then let out a sonorous sound like something a whale would utter. Hearing that deep call echo out of this man’s average body startled her. Sevana knew that the Fae could speak to any animal, that was common knowledge, but actually witnessing an Unda use that ability to speak to his comrades through the water was fascinating all the same.
That long, mournful sound seemed to be sufficient instruction, as the four-man team nodded understanding before two swam in one direction, the others going opposite. Each of them carried something that looked remarkably like a sextant in their hands, and at a certain point, the other two swam away from their partners. It took a moment for Sevana to figure out exactly what they were doing.
“Are we the benchmark?” she inquired of Loman.
“Indeed.”
She chose to stay quiet as everyone spread out in their various positions. If they were the ‘level’ then everything would be measured against them and Loman would need to focus. With his hands full, she pulled out the miniature journal from her bag and wrote down the columns for back-sight, height of instrument, foresight, elevation and description. The other side of the page she left blank and ready for the equations.
“Run one hundred feet,” Loman informed her without taking his eyes away from the sextant in his hands.
Sevana scribbled that down and was grateful for the distance. An even number like this made the calculations that much easier. The surveyors had likely done this on purpose.
“Rise…” A frown gathered over Loman’s face, layer upon layer, signally his suspicions. “Rise is forty-eight.”
Making a note, she studied his expression from the corner of her eye. “What was it before?”
“Fifty-two,” he answered slowly. “Or very close to fifty-two. It seems you might be on to something, Artifactor.”
Two of the other surv
eyors had been making their own measurements and they called out the number to Loman in that whale-like sound. It gave her eerie chills racing up and down her spine, but in a good sense, as if something just outside her understanding wrapped around her.
“Run of one hundred, rise of fifty,” Loman translated for her.
Aran leaned his head over her shoulder and watched as she did quick calculations and graphed the slope. “In other words, you have a two percent slope going down, and a one percent slope going across?”
Letting out a sound that might have been a garbled curse, Loman stared hard at the land before letting his sextant drop. “Artifactor. I think I owe you an apology.”
She grinned without looking up from her journal. “Your toes were stepped on and feelings hurt when Rane called me in. I knew that. Understandable, really. I’d be the same in your shoes. But Loman, she called me in for fresh eyes and because I can think outside the box.”
“She called you in because you can figure out the problem,” Loman corrected wearily. Still, when she glanced up, he looked relieved instead of angry, his shoulders unwinding from the clench he’d been holding around her. “I don’t mind, as long as I can finally fix this. You think the slope caused all of this?”
“I think the slope is the reason the pods sometimes go into the wrong tunnel branches,” she corrected. “Intersecting tunnels would be tipped just enough to cause the pods to turn into them. The reason why they stop midway still puzzles me. I don’t need to tell you how to fix this, do I?”
With a shake of the head, he wet his lips with a light of determination in his eyes. “No. We’ll manage that just fine. You’ve another treatment today, haven’t you?”
“Yes, and it will likely knock me flat on my back for at least tomorrow. At least, everything else has basically done so. You work on correcting the slopes, then contact your sister stations and have them make the same measurements, see if it’s a similar problem between all the stations.”
Loman likely didn’t need the order but he nodded along anyway. “I’ll lay odds it is.”
“So will I, but I try not to make assumptions. They tend to come back and punch me in the face. Hardly pleasant.” Closing the journal, she replaced it in her bag before slinging it around to rest against her lower back. “And I want this confirmed. As for the other problem…give me the measurements and the construction blueprints for this station’s tunnels. I’ll study them if I can tomorrow and maybe something will leap out at me.”
“Loman, can you send us back now?” Aran requested with an apologetic splay of the hands. “We need to head in.”
“Yes, of course, I’ll call Pol over.” Loman this time used a sharp series of barks, not at all unlike what a seal would use.
Sevana had to assume that he switched animal languages as he did because one of the languages performed the nuances better than another. Perhaps once she was fully Fae, she’d understand precisely why he chose the animals he did and exactly what he was saying. It couldn’t simply be an Unda thing, as Aran clearly had no trouble following what everyone was saying.
As they waited for Pol to swim the short distance to them, Loman fixed her with a very firm look. She knew that look well, as Master aimed it at her on a regular basis. It was part suspicion, part paternal, with a glimmer of an idea lurking in between the two. “You’ve really no idea why the pods stop at the reef?”
“You really think that kind of gradual slope is going to be enough to stop a hi-velocity pod in its tracks?” she shot back, knowing very well what it was that he suspected. “It’s a two percent slope, man! Of course it’s not going to stop a pod dead. It might, if it were a more severe drop, slow it within a hundred feet, but this is more like twenty. That’s insane—nothing should have that stopping force. Something’s impeding the pods. We just have to determine what.”
Sighing, he went back to staring at the tunnel in visible frustration.
“Loman, we will figure this out,” Sevana promised him, meaning every word. “In the meantime, fix those slopes and report to Rane and Curano what we’ve discovered here today. Progress will make them happy.”
Peering at her under his eyebrows, Loman’s suspicious look shifted. “Why don’t you report that to them?”
“I’ve had enough of people for today.” Sevana was only half-joking. Mostly, she was half-serious. Encountering Rane once a day was her limit, thank you very much. Something about that woman drove her up the wall.
Pol arrived and stepped into the air bubble, making it rather crowded. Loman didn’t seem convinced that she really did not want to talk to royalty, but shrugged and let it go, stepping out to give Pol room and control. The assistant was a sprightly young thing, on the thin side with hair perpetually in his eyes. If he was older than fifty, Sevana would eat her boots. He was barely adult compared to Fae standards. With a deferential duck of the head to her and Arandur, he started their trek back into the main city.
Keeping pace easily, Sevana mused, “Although, really, I wonder why the pods stop. I keep saying that the pressure gauges don’t see a drop in vacuum in the tunnels, but perhaps something’s interfering with the instruments?”
Over his shoulder, Pol spoke in a soft voice, almost timid. “We did check that, Artifactor.”
“Curses, of course you did.” Pursing her lips together, Sevana tried to think of other possibilities. Nothing, unfortunately, sprang to mind. “I really don’t think it’s the slope, but I suppose if you can fix one of the tunnels and try sending a pod through, it’ll tell us clearly or not if the problem still exists. Who knows, I might turn out wrong.”
Aran mock gasped, putting a palm to his chest. “You? Wrong?”
Just for that, she smacked him with the back of her hand against his side. He snickered, not at all bothered by it. Really, the man could be such a brat. It’s probably why they were able to be friends. Nice people didn’t last long around Sevana.
With no immediate answer on hand, Sevana’s mind switched to what would come next: her daily dose of Fae blood. Ursilla had made no mention of what she wanted to tackle next, which made Sevana wonder aloud, “What do you think Ursilla will choose to focus on this time? Senses? It would be nice if those straightened themselves out.”
Aran’s silence was eloquent.
Her eyes shot up to his. “Not my magical core again.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t think that. But you do have other body parts, you realize? And in order for your senses to adapt fully, we’ll need to physically change your organs at some point.” A grimace of anticipation on his face, he admitted morosely, “Although I know it’s not going to be pleasant for you, it’ll be better to get it over with.”
That was a fact. The dread of the thing was often worse than the thing itself, after all. Half-resigned already, Sevana observed rhetorically, “If you’re right, and you likely are, it’s just as well Loman won’t need me for the next several days. I’ll definitely be flat on my back if she goes for my eyes, or something like that.”
“Truly. But once you’re completely changed, you’ll stop having magical accidents, and won’t that make this all worth it?”
Sevana grunted sourly. “That does sound good, don’t get me wrong, but you might have to keep reminding me of it. I’m likely to forget when I’m writhing about on the bed like a landed fish.”
He slid an arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side for a moment. “It will be fine, Sevana.”
It was fine. Well, that was to say, Sevana didn’t feel like she was either going to implode, explode, or became a gelatin goo by the evening. That said, she didn’t feel up to traipsing about outside either. Her sense of touch was finally straightened out, as was taste, but sight seemed on the fritz. Not that she mentioned that to either Aran or Ursilla. Instead of tasting colors, she now either saw everything in shades of purple—why purple?—or it turned grayscale. The switch back and forth came without any warning whatsoever, and Sevana did not think it wise to try and work outside with he
r vision this unstable.
But sitting here at the table with the blueprints of the tunnels and the schematics for the engines, as well as the logs of what natural disasters had occurred in the past fifty years, was something still well within her ability. It might also hold the key to what was actually going wrong down here, more than skulking along the tubes would do.
Volcanoes always erupted down here, of course—not in this precise region, but in the neighboring area of Kesly Isles. That could be a contributing factor. The logs mentioned a few minor earthquakes, more felt as a rumble than anything, barely hard enough to rattle the dishes and knock pictures askew. This area had experienced two in the past thirty years, and Sevana’s eyes narrowed as she read the entries, her finger skimming along the page as she read the rather spidery handwriting. Minor earthquakes. Not an uncommon thing around the seafloor, certainly, which was likely why no one thought anything of them. Certainly they hadn’t remembered them or mentioned them to her, but this might answer her questions. Or at least give her a good culprit to point to. Why had the tunnels suddenly developed a two percent slope downhill?
Because the earth had shifted in the earthquakes. Simple.
The front door opened as Aran returned from his errand. Sevana had heard him say something, although she hadn’t been paying close enough attention to remember why he’d gone out. He’d rarely left her side since coming down here, so even if it had just been an excuse to take a breather from her, she wouldn’t have blamed him. Certainly just watching her pour over schematics and history logs couldn’t be riveting.
He shucked off his boots at the door and said something to her, and she hummed back a response, her eyes still mostly focused on the documents. That last earthquake was more intense than the first one. It’d happened nearly ten years ago now, so Sevana could hardly call it recent. But something about the date of the occurrence bothered her. That date was familiar—or at least, it connected to some other fact she’d heard, although she couldn’t immediately put a finger on it.
The Fae Artifactor Page 12
