“But he did,” Josiah blurted. When they all turned to look at him, he spread his hands. “I overheard him say so this morning. Will a window reach the Mother’s Hall from here? We’ll show you.”
Aluma rolled her eyes. “Savir and Music could let us listen in on their meetings, but what good would that do when we can’t understand a word they say?”
Savir held up his hand. “No, wait. Josiah went to Ramunna.”
“And I learned to speak Ramunnan. I’ll translate for you.”
Aluma still looked skeptical, but Josiah was encouraged by the hope dawning in Madon and Bransa’s eyes. Savir was grinning. “We’re just within window range. That’s why we chose this place; they’re keeping Hanion in the basement of the Hall.”
Sar thrust his head between Josiah’s chair and Bransa’s. Josiah put his hand on the donkey’s neck and a window popped open over his palm. Sar had to pull quite a bit of energy to push such a distant viewpoint back in time, but since it was only a few hours it was possible with enough effort. They quickly focused on the morning’s meeting. Josiah had Sar stop the flow of conversation after every sentence or two so he could repeat the words in Tevenaran.
When Benarre shifted the subject, Sar let the window die. Madon nodded grimly. “First thing tomorrow. That means Benarre will learn about Elkan’s army before the week is out. So we have to try soon, if we’re going to.”
“But we can’t, because we don’t know how to use the keys. All we’d get is another destroyed ship. Much as I’d like that, it would alert them to our presence without accomplishing anything of strategic significance.” Aluma shook her head. “I don’t think we can risk it.”
“Absolutely not,” Bransa added. “I’m not going to have you messing around with those keys while my ship is alongside theirs. Not until you can convince me you know how to work them without blowing us both up.”
“Will somebody please tell me what you’re planning to do?” Josiah tried to keep his voice to the hushed tone the others were using, but it was hard.
Savir exchanged looks with the others, then turned back to Josiah. Gently, he said, “Since we’re not going to put our plan into action tonight, there’s no need for you to know the details.”
Josiah clenched his fists. “But maybe I could figure out how to make it work if you tell me. These keys you keep talking about, they open the rooms where they store the Secret powder, right?”
Savir pressed his lips together for a moment, then nodded. “There’s a certain sequence that the three correct keys must be used in. If the wrong keys are used, or in the wrong order, it triggers an explosion.”
“Each Secrets officer carries a ring with at least two dozen keys. They all look alike. They can tell the difference between them somehow, but we haven’t been able to figure out how,” Aluma added.
“We thought we understood the pattern,” Madon said grimly, “but we were wrong. One of my watchers died trying to open the door on one of their ships. You probably saw the damage to the dock.”
Savir’s fingers scratched rhythmically between Music’s ears. “We’ve watched through windows dozens of times while they use the keys, but we must have missed something. It’s not visual. There’s something about the way the keys feel. But they all know the trick and do it automatically. The only time we’ve been able to find someone explaining it out loud, they’re speaking Ramunnan—” He broke off and sat up straight, staring at Josiah.
Madon brightened, then deflated. “We don’t know for sure if they actually talk about what to feel for.”
“No, but they might. We can’t pass up the opportunity to find out.” Savir turned to Josiah. “Will you help us?”
“Of course. That means I need to know the whole plan, right?”
Savir laughed. “You don’t give up, do you? All right. You’ve probably gathered that we intend to break into one of the Armada ships and steal some blasting powder. Madon, tell him your idea.”
The old watcher leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice. “When Benarre learns what Elkan is doing and how many people he’s gathered, he’ll send most of his men to Korisan to take him by surprise before he can finish his preparations. Elathir will be left nearly undefended. That’s when we strike. As soon as the Ramunnans are across the bridge and well up the main Korisan road, we light the blasting powder we’ve planted on the bridge supports. With the bridge gone, the main Ramunnan force will be trapped on the far side. Meanwhile, Elkan brings his force across the ford and down the south bank of the river to take the city back. Those weapons you’re building will reach across the river, won’t they?”
Josiah calculated the distance. “If we can get them to full range.”
Madon sat back in his chair. “Elkan can use them to destroy any Ramunnan ships that threaten the city. Benarre will be forced to lead his men upstream to where they can find a ford, then circle around and try to take Elathir from behind.”
Josiah liked the sound of Madon’s plan, but a few points worried him. “Or he could march all the way to Korisan and take it.”
“Elkan will have to leave people there to defend it. Surely with everyone in Tevenar reporting to fight he’ll have enough?”
“Probably. He won’t like it, though.”
“Think of the alternative. If our forces sweep down the main road on the north side of the river, all Benarre has to do is retreat across the bridge, and then he could blow it up. Then it would be Elkan stuck on the far side, unable to reach the city. Benarre could bring his ships in to shoot at them.”
“Our weapons could shoot back.” But Josiah could see the scenario put Elkan at a disadvantage. Madon’s plan seemed to give them a much better chance. “But anyway, you don’t have to steal the blasting powder. I can let Elkan know what you need, and he can send you some from our mill.”
Aluma shook her head. “You’d never get it past the guards. They search every shipment in or out of the city.”
“I bet we could figure out a way—”
Savir cut off Josiah. “If we must, we’ll resort to that. But if you can help us figure out how to work the keys, we can take several dozen barrels of their blasting powder without them even realizing it’s gone. You’ll have your sample, and we’ll have what we need for the bridge. Will you do it?”
Josiah considered. “How will—oh, you said your ship will be alongside?” He turned to Bransa.
“That’s right. We’ve set up a regular resupply schedule. Every night we take a load of water and food out to one of their ships. It takes a couple of hours to transfer it all across. Plenty of time for you to work.”
At the very least he’d be able to get a good look inside a weapon. If they succeeded in getting the powder, it would be a bonus. “All right. Let’s do it.”
All the details were quickly finalized. Aluma took Josiah and Sar to her trader’s wagon, where they loaded the donkey with vegetables. They joined a line of wagons and pack animals at the docks. When their turn came, Bransa gestured peremptorily for Josiah to lead Sar onto her ship. “Get those unloaded and get out of the way!”
Savir joined Josiah in lifting the crates of squash and tomatoes down from Sar’s back. In the bustle it was easy to slip the donkey into the storage shed where Music was hiding. Savir and Josiah blended in with the traders and sailors and dockworkers unloading the rest of the supplies.
When the last of the huge casks of water were swung aboard, Bransa bustled down the deck. “Clear out! We haven’t got all night!” Of course she took no notice when Savir and Josiah didn’t leave the ship with the other workers, but instead went to join their familiars in the shed.
Savir eyed the cracks between the boards of the shed’s walls. “Before, Music and I have always gone belowdecks to work. I’m worried the light will show.”
Josiah had to agree he was probably right. “Sar, I think we’re going to have to take you down one of the hatches.”
His familiar’s mental voice was resigned. It won’t be the first time.
It took Savir and Music and Josiah and Sar all working together to steady the donkey with careful application of the Mother’s power, all the time keeping the glow as subdued as possible so no one watching the ship would see anything that didn’t look like lantern light, but eventually they got Sar down the steep ramp and installed in a dark corner of the hold near the bow. Josiah went up and stood by the rail, watching Tevenar’s shoreline recede and the dark masts of the Armada ships approach.
When they got close, he returned to his familiar. A small window showed Bransa directing her ship alongside one of the Ramunnan ships. Sailors on both vessels tossed ropes and worked to bind them together amid the gently rocking waves.
Now, Josiah told Sar. The window swooped to the room where the weapon rested, quiet and dark and deserted. Thank the Mother, no one’s there. Quick, let’s get this done.
He put out his other hand. A tendril of the Mother’s power, no thicker than a sewing thread, flowed out, glowing brilliant gold in the darkness. He and Sar had figured out the best way to proceed. Sar sent the thread through the decks of their ship, into the water far below the surface, and across to the Ramunnan ship. They followed its progress in the window, carefully guiding it through the wood of the other ship’s hull until it reached the weapon room. Then Sar sent it darting across open space into the mouth of the weapon. He stirred the air within until the whole central shaft was lit up as bright as daylight. Josiah watched intently as the window swept around, showing every inch of the inner surface.
There were more grooves. Six, in fact, sweeping in smooth graceful spirals that made a complete turn between the breech and the muzzle. Josiah pulled out the pen and ink and paper he’d begged from Aluma and sketched their exact contours. He carefully used the Builders’ Guild notation Master Rada had taught him to label every dimension.
After he finished he had Sar give the whole weapon one final sweep, inside and out. When he was sure there was nothing more to see, he broke contact with his familiar. The window and the thread of light vanished. He folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. They’d gotten what they came for. Even if they were able to accomplish nothing else tonight, at least they’d done that much.
Savir’s footsteps echoed on the deck, Music’s claws clicking in counterpoint, as they came to join Josiah and Sar. “Finished? We found the conversation I mentioned. Watch.”
He put out his hand and Music opened a window. Josiah saw two Ramunnans in officer’s uniforms standing outside a door. Each of them had the jeweled hilt of a small dagger protruding from his left sleeve. Josiah grimaced at the reminder of their deadly vow. He leaned close and concentrated on what they were saying.
“Stay calm. You know what you’re doing,” the older said to the younger.
The younger man flipped through a ring of keys, fingering each in turn. “The difference is so subtle.”
“It has to be, if we don’t want our enemies to figure it out. But it’s clear enough if you know what to look for.”
The younger officer paused on a key. “This one?” He held it out to his superior.
“Try it and see.”
The younger man swallowed. “Are you sure?”
“You’ve got ten minutes to get it right.” The older man’s voice was relaxed but implacable.
The younger man nodded. With trembling fingers he inserted the key in the middle keyhole, turned it, and pulled it out. He sorted through the keys until he located another, which he used in the lowest keyhole. The keys rattled against each other as he identified a third, and he took a deep breath before inserting and turning it. He pushed against the door, but it didn’t move. He gulped.
“Try again,” the older man said.
“No, sir, please!” The younger man thrust the ring of keys at him.
“Do it.” The older man crossed his arms.
The younger officer was even more nervous this time. Again, the sequence he tried produced no results. Josiah estimated the amount of time that had passed. Certainly less than five minutes.
The older officer forced the young one to attempt the sequence two more times. By the last time, Josiah was pretty sure he was choosing keys at random, as fast as possible.
When his fourth attempt failed, the young officer again shoved the ring of keys at the older. “Sir, I’m begging you.”
The older man took the keys with an air of disgust. Calmly he fingered each key until he located the one he wanted and used it. Two more followed in unhurried succession. When the third turned in the uppermost lock, the door clicked and swung smoothy open.
The younger man sagged, letting out a breath that was almost a sob. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to let you blow up the ship. But you’re going back to practicing with the dummy lock until you can do it in your sleep. Then I’m going to bring you down here again and we’ll repeat this exercise. As many times as it takes. You have all the makings of a good Secrets officer. Don’t let this minor detail destroy your career.”
“No sir. I won’t, sir.” The younger man wiped sweat from his forehead and followed his superior meekly away.
Josiah shook his head. “No luck. Neither of them ever say how to tell one key from another. But the older one said something about practicing with a dummy lock. Maybe they talk about it more when they use that.”
Savir sighed in discouragement. “I’ll follow them and see if I can find something.” He pulled his hand close and studied the window carefully as the images within blurred and zipped by at accelerated speed.
“Wait, Savir—”
The other wizard waved Josiah silent. “I need to concentrate.”
It didn’t matter. Josiah put his hand on Sar. Can you show me that scene again?
I don’t know exactly when or where Music was looking.
I just want to get a closer look at the lock mechanism. You can show me the one on this ship. Now is fine. No use spending extra energy looking at a different time.
A window opened over his palm, showing the Ramunnan ship. It quickly dove into the stern and found the door to the Secret room. All was dark and quiet.
Can you look inside the door?
Sar complied, moving the viewpoint of the window within the thickness of the door. The dim shapes were enough to show Josiah that there was a narrow open space between the front and back surfaces of the door that held some sort of conglomeration of gears and parts, but there was too little light to make out any details.
Josiah put out his other hand. Like before?
Sar sent another golden thread shooting through ship and water into the Ramunnan vessel. He wound it through hull and bulkheads and walls to the door. The window abruptly brightened when it arrived.
Keep stirring the air around. Just a little! We don’t want to accidentally set off this thing. He knew Elkan had triggered one of the devices on the third Armada vessel they’d destroyed in the battle, but he hadn’t questioned his master on the specifics of how it worked or how much force it had taken to activate it. But surely a little air movement wouldn’t be enough. It had to be sturdy enough to withstand the door opening and closing, as well as the movement of the ship even in stormy weather.
Sar adjusted the window so Josiah could examine the device from every angle. At first all he saw was a jumble, but as he studied it he began to understand what the different parts did. There was a large gear with five notches—that must be what counted the wrong attempts. And there was another big gear attached to a spring, and an arm that fit into the many tiny jagged teeth along its edge. Maybe that measured time? The older officer had said ten minutes.
The keyholes themselves were basic sets of tumblers. He traced how the latch would unfasten when all three were correctly opened. In addition, each hole had a tiny lever that would be flipped when a key was inserted. When all three were tripped and the latch didn’t open, a spring was released that tugged the five-part gear another notch around.
Both the counting gear
and the timing gear had arms that led to a spring. If either of them reached their final position without being reset by the opening latch, they would release a catch. A spring would snap closed, slamming a steel point into a block of flint. A shallow pan full of blasting powder stood ready to catch the sparks, and oil-soaked rags waited to spread the flames into the wood of the door and walls. The barrels of blasting powder within wouldn’t be long behind.
Josiah admired the elegant design of the deadly device. The Matriarch’s weapon builders must be highly skilled artisans to create such a clever arrangement of gears and springs. But of course they hadn’t taken the Mother’s power into consideration. When you could both see through solid wood and manipulate things inside a closed compartment, it was easy to defeat the mechanism. All you had to do was release the catch on the biggest spring and ease the steel and flint together. Slowly, so they didn’t spark—
“Josiah!”
Josiah jumped at Savir’s shout, but Sar completed the motion smoothly. With a sheepish grin, Josiah shrugged. “It won’t blow up now. We can unlock it, too, if you want.”
Savir slowly unclenched his fists, breathing deeply. “What in the Mother’s name were you thinking? You could have killed us all!”
“We knew what we were doing. Once I got a good look, it was pretty obvious how the device worked and how to disable it. Sar didn’t even hesitate, he just saw what I wanted and did it.”
“I would have thought your familiar would have better sense.” Savir peered into the still-open window over Josiah’s palm. “Are you sure it’s safe? I’ve tried to figure out how to disable those things, but I could never be certain I wasn’t going to set it off.”
“It should be fine. Here, just to be absolutely certain it doesn’t get rattled around when the door opens…” At Josiah’s direction Sar pulled loose some of the rags and stuffed them between the flint and steel, wrapping them around the arm with the steel point until it was swathed in several insulating layers. “There. Now there’s no way it can strike a spark.”
The Wizards' War Page 33
