Copyright © 2012 by Jonathan E. Feinstein
All Rights Reserved
This one is a bit late, isn’t it? And the next might be even later!
Life has a way of, well, getting in the way sometimes. I won’t go into the details, but family health problems have taken up much of my spare time recently. Consequently, I am writing considerably slower than is my norm. I’m also not finding as much time to proofread, although thank to my Kindle Fire, I do find stretches during long hospital visits during which I can make corrections. So that’s how I finally got this book ready.
Meanwhile I am currently writing the next volume in the series, Required Componants and I think that inspite of the fact that by now I should have written two books, not the first quarter or so, it is going well, so maybe I’m back on track even if not in the fast lane.
So here it is at least the third book in Ars Scientiaque Magicae, a.k.a. the third and final Maiyim Series. In my original plans for the series, I expected this story to only be the first half of the third book, but it ran longer than I thought. Actually, it ran even longer than what you’ll find here. I had to chop off the last section and expend it a bit for the next book when I realized that the story should have ended where it now does and that the section afterwards should have been expanded.
If you have read Lift Off! You probably were expecting to see the Tzali in this story. Well, in a way you do, but not directly. They will play a biug part in the rest of the series, but this story is the pivot point. In this book you have one last look at Maiyim before the arrival of the Tzali. From here on in, it all changes.
Ouch, that’s a horrible cliché, isn’t it? In truth, from here on in it is going to change several times, so hang on and get ready for the ride! I think that as long as it takes me to tell it, it’s going to be worth the wait.
Jonathan E. Feinstein
Westport, MA
January 1, 2012
They kissed. After several moments, Islandtwist and Spinnaker stepped apart, still holding hands, when they realized the strange sound they heard was the polite applause of their wedding guests.
Spin had been dreading the reception line. He had never enjoyed waiting in the long lines and could not imagine they were any better at the receiving end. “No,” Alarn Hastings, his best man, disagreed. “You won’t have time to be bored. Too many friends and family to greet. Hmm, must be Twist’s I don’t recall you having this many friends, Jerry” he added dryly, using Spin’s birth name. While talking, he steered Spin and Twist toward the far side of the yard where the line was already starting to coalesce. “Hmm, I suppose I should get used to calling you Spinnaker.”
“I don’t see why,” Spin shrugged. “I’m not used to it yet either. You knew me as Jerry Carter long before I adopted my mage name. Call me whatever seems right.”
“Aye aye, Skipper,” Al grinned, reminding Spin of their shared voyage on the Maiyim Bourne almost two years earlier. Spinnaker, or rather Jerry, had found an antique yacht in his father’s old warehouse. He and Al had planned to spend the summer sailing around the Emmine Archipelago, while Jerry did some private research into the history of the boat itself. Al, however, had been forced to fly home on a family emergency not quite midway through the trip, leaving Jerry on his own. “I suppose I should take credit for today,” Al added whimsically.
“In what way?” Spinnaker laughed.
“Hey, Skipper, you weren’t much of a sailor when we first got your boat in the water,” Al reminded him. “If it hadn’t been for me, you never would have made it to Olen and met Twist here.”
“I’d have found a way,” Spin insisted.
Al looked past his friend and noticed Twist was giving him a half amused look with one arched eyebrow. “Maybe you would have at that,” Al backed down.
“Well, I thank you for getting him here, Al,” Twist told him, kissing him lightly on the cheek as they finally made it to their place at the head of the line. Her bridal gown was the traditional white, but her bridesmaids wore pale green to match the engagement emerald Spin had given her. That emerald was quietly orbiting just above her head, kept there by a magic spell Twist could keep going in her sleep if she chose. The practice of “wearing” a floating gem had been a fashion two hundred years in the past. Now it was more common for a young girl to wear a cheap trinket that had been magically charged for the day at a fair, but the women of Twist’s family had invented the fashion in the first place so for her it was traditional. “I’d have looked silly standing here by myself,” she chuckled dryly.
As the line began to pass and Spin greeted the guests, he realized that Al did have one valid point. Most of the guests were Twist’s relatives and friends of the family. Spin’s father, Marvon Carter was here as was his younger brother, Harry along with a few cousins, but aside from Al, he had no friends here from before he met Twist. The reason, he realized, was that aside from Al, he had no true friends from before he had met Twist.
Maybe that’s just as well, Spin decided. He had been ruining his life before he found the Maiyim Bourne, and in so many ways, his life changed completely when he began that voyage. The boat herself was magical. She had been enchanted by the gods, Nildar and Wenni who had given it to Twist’s remote ancestor, the Wizard Silverwind the Great. Eventually, it had become the property of another of Twist’s ancestors, Oceanvine the Younger, another historically famous wizard, who had cast an additional spell on her that when activated led to the Maiyim Bourne becoming a sentient entity. The Maiyim Bourne frequently used an illusory image of Oceanvine when speaking to Spin and Twist, who normally called her simply “Maiyim.”
“I would have liked to invite Kenno’te and his band here,” Twist told Spin between kisses from her guests.
“Me too,” Spin agreed although, privately he wondered what the Inalo people would have made of the festivities. He also wondered how the other guests might have reacted to the Inalo, who, he supposed, would have worn their best seal skins for the occasion. The Inalo were an indigenous population of hunter-gatherers who lived in the small archipelago to the south of Rallena. They had made an attempt to contact them, but this was the Inalo hunting season. They spent the entire short summer stocking up for winter.
Spin was shaken out of his reverie when a woman suddenly wrapped her arms around him and kissed him soundly. “Amelie?” he identified her when she finally let him go.
“Hi, cousin!” Amelie Rentoner greeted him. She was actually Twist’s distant relative on her father’s side and the sister of Lord Tamollen. “All the men are kissing Twist. This seemed only fair.”
“How’ve you been, Amelie?” Spin asked politely.
“Quite well,” she responded. “You remember Jill?” she indicated her daughter nearby.
“How can I forget?” Spin laughed. “You and she crewed on Maiyim Bourne on our trip to Tarnsa. You’ve grown, Jill.” Jill blushed, but leaned over to kiss Spin on the cheek.
“So have you, Cousin Spinnaker,” Amelie told him. “Oh not outwardly, but you seem far more self-assured than you were when we went haring across Horalia in pursuit of Lord Dathan and his kidnappers. They’re here today I see.
“Dathan’s kidnappers?” Spin asked.
“No, silly!” Amelie laughed. “Duke Natan, Lord Dathan and Lady Janin from Horalia. But, I’m holding up the line. We’ll chat later, dear.”
“Hi, Jerry, uh, I mean, Spinnaker,” the next guest greeted his with a firm handshake.
“Tamlin!” Jerry responded enthusiastically. “Thanks for coming!”
“Thanks for inviting me,” Tamlin replied. “Life’s been a bit dull since we hunted down the Ghost of Tamd, you know.”
“Tamlin!” the woman beside him spoke his name warningly.
“I didn’t mean you, dear,” Tamlin told her hastily.
“Hi, Lenine,” Spin greeted Tamlin’s wife and reached out to give her a light hug.
Finally, the guests finished filing by and they could settle down to dinner. Neither Twist nor Spin had time to take more than a few bites, however, before Twist’s parents, Wizards Amble and Moonsong, asked them to step away from the party for a few minutes.
Amble reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a golden pen. “While it has not been traditional to pass this on to the next mages on their wedding day,” he told couple, “I received this the day Moonsong and I were wed.” As he held out the pen, it rapidly grew until it became a staff that looked as though it had been fashioned out of gold with a complex pattern of lines that ran the length and with a symbol at either end that both Spin and Twist knew was the symbol that represented the god, Aritos. “You are to share this gift equally, but for some reason it has usually been held by the husband.” He handed the staff to Spinnaker.
“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Moonsong grumbled. “Spinnaker is still just an apprentice.”
“My journeyman equivalency exams are next month,” Spin protested, “but if it makes you happier, Twist can hold it.” He turned to hand the staff to his wife.
“Uh uh!” Twist refused. “I’m not going to be the one to break tradition. If I need the staff I can always borrow it. It belongs to both of us, but you should hold it. Besides I have a staff I already love.”
“And so you should,” Amble chuckled, “considering who it used to belong to.”
“Who?” Islandtwist asked. “I thought it was just one that had been in the family.”
“I found an old journal of Wizard Candle in the library a few months ago, while you were still on Midbar with Cirrus,” Amble told her. “According to Candle, that staff originally belonged to Oceanvine the Younger. The burn marks apparently occurred when she tried to do too much with it and Candle placed the bronze bands on it after that.”
“But I thought Oceanvine’s staff was that really fancy one in the school museum,” Twist commented.
“It was,” Amble agreed. “It has her arms carved into the finial, but a mage may have any number of staves. Yours may have been her first staff and I wouldn’t be surprised if she gave it to her apprentice, Saltspray.”
“Is that in the journal too?” Spin asked.
“No,” Amble shook his head, “and I would have been surprised and skeptical if it was. Wizard Candle died before his granddaughter formally apprenticed to Oceanvine. But we have kept you from your guests long enough. Spin, I think you’ll be more comfortable if you shrink the staff back to pen-sized. Just concentrate and it will change very easily.”
“It doesn’t look like a pen,” Spinnaker remarked as it slipped it into a pocket.
“The staff can change shape as well as size,” Amble admitted. “If you experiment you will find it can look like almost any hand weapon.’
“Oh! There you are!” a female voice cut in just then.
“Fireiron!” Spin and Twist called to their teachers, “Artifice!”
“Sorry we were late,” Fireiron apologized. “Something came up at the last minute.”
“So long as you were both able to be here today,” Spinnaker told them. Only he and Twist knew that Fireiron and Artifice were actually the gods, Methis and Aritos. They had spent several months at Methis’ Forge while Methis gave them private lessons in magic. Those lessons were, by no means complete, but both Methis and Aritos had promised to teach at the Olen Institute for Advanced Magical Studies, or the Olen School for short. Twist’s and Spin’s private tutoring would continue.
That was just as well, for on all the world of Maiyim, Twist and Spin were the only mortals who knew there was a fleet of invading aliens called the Tzali headed their way. Owing to a peculiar treaty between the gods of Maiyim and Tzal, they would be the only ones to know until that fleet actually arrived.
“The Tzali are still a few years away,” Methis told Spin and Twist once Amble and Moonsong had returned to their guests.
“And we still have to keep our mouths shut?” Spin asked.
“You ask that every time we speak of them,” Methis chuckled. “Think about it. Even if you were not enjoined from discussing the matter, who would believe you? But you two will have students of your own, you know. There’s nothing to stop you from training them in techniques that will come in handy when the Tzali arrive. But never mind that for now, we might have been late, but we remembered to bring a gift.” With that she pulled a large, gift-wrapped box out of the air and presented it to them.
Inside they discovered a large silver punchbowl on which the symbol of Maiyim had been embossed. “Thank you! Did You create this?” Twist asked.
“No!” Methis laughed. “We found it for sale in Querna. I’m not sure where the artisan who made it ever saw the Seal of Maiyim, but it does seem to be showing up more frequently these days, just like the one on your locket.”
“I suspect someone copied the symbol from the wizard stones of Oceanvine and Sextant,” Aritos conjectured. “They are on display in the Royal Museum of History after all.”
Sometime later only a few guests were left and Twist led Spin to a table where her noble cousin Lord Olen, Freddy to his friends, was seated with some of his colleagues from the House of Lords. “So, what next for you two?” Freddy asked as they sat down.
“We settle down to our studies,” Spin replied. “I have my equivalency exams next month.”
“No honeymoon?” Lord Tamollen asked.
“I think we had our honeymoon in advance,” Spin replied with a chuckle.
“We sailed around the world,” Twist added.
“With a side trip to Midbar as I recall,” Freddy laughed.
“Right now we have a lot to do right here,” Twist told them.
“Actually,” Duke Natan cut in, “I was going to wait until tomorrow to bring this up, but my royal cousin was wondering if he might co-opt your services in Sutheria.”
“Doing what?” Twist enquired.
“Oh, just a routine diplomatic mission for the most part,” Natan replied, “but while you are there, I understand the police in Naria and having a spot of trouble concerning a recent rash of disappearances. They have requested the assistance of a qualified mage or two. Naturally, we all thought of the two most recent inductees into the Order of the Star of Emmine.”
Carillon music drifted down across the Olen Institute’s campus, signaling the break between classes. It played for less than a minute but could be heard in every building, including the large gymnasium.
“All right, Spin,” Methis called, “you can put out the lights and come down now. I think the next class needs the gym anyway.”
“Right,” Spin nodded. He was hovering some twenty feet above the gymnasium floor with several balls of fire circling him in a variety of directions. The actual exercise Methis had set him to had very little to do with levitation or pyrotechnics, however. Those were just distractions while he worked on a series of exercises designed to teach him creation magic, the most difficult sort any mage could achieve.
“You’re making excellent progress,” Methis remarked.
“He certainly is,” Twist agreed from nearby. She picked up her staff, the wooden one with bronze bands near the ends, and walked over to where Methis was standing. “He’s nearly caught up to me and I had a decade head start.”
“You both have your master’s degrees,” Methis pointed out. “At this stage in your development there really is no ahead or behind in your general progress. You can each do some things the other cannot do as well, although I must say I have rarely seen a pair of mages so evenly matched.
“Spin’s a natural,” Twist agreed.
“Naturally attuned to you, at least,” Methis shrugged. “Twist, your parents are both wizards, but they haven’t got the professional affinity to do the cooperative exercises you and Spin do so easily. It’s almost as if your minds link when you are working together. You don’t hear each other’s thoughts, do you?” she added suspiciously.
“Only if we project them to each other,” Spin replied, coming to rest on the floor. “That doesn’t really count while working cooperatively, does it?”
“Not what I meant,” Methis admitted. “I was more concerned you might do something like that without trying.”
“No,” Spin shook his head. “We need to be linked to do that and then it’s more like talking. So, tell me, why did I have to be a floating fireworks display while Twist just sat in the bleachers?”
“It would have been easier had you both been doing the same thing,” Methis admitted. “That sort of exercise will make cooperative magic easier when you have different tasks to accomplish individually as well.”
“And what does it do to help us toward safe creation magic?” Twist asked.
“Heh!” Methis chuckled. “There is no safe creation magic. Some mages can do it, some cannot, but it is always a risk. The exercise is in concentration. You are both excellent at that, but anyone can get better, even I can stand to improve.”
“That’s hard to believe,” Spin scoffed.
“I’ll admit I can multitask better than you, but I can be distracted,” Methis admitted, “maybe because I can multitask better than either of you. The more you do at once, the easier it is to lose your concentration.”
“So that’s it for the lesson today?” Twist asked.
“Not hardly,” Methis laughed. “You have another hour before your next classes. I think you need more practice at self-translocation.”
“That’s pretty dangerous,” Twist commented. “You told us yourself we shouldn’t try it unsupervised.”
“And I am supervising,” Methis retorted as she led them out of the gym. They stepped out of the door and found themselves on a cold, windswept and pebble-strewn beach.
“That was smooth,” Spin complimented Her. “No translocation shock?”
“There is a trick to that,” Methis admitted. “The problem with translocation is that the energy involved is so intense that it shocks you. It can kill you if you’re very old or weak. It could kill you if you tried to translocate to Midbar for that matter.”
“Then how did you do it?” Twist asked.
“My body can absorb a lot more than yours can,” Methis admitted. “In a sense, I cheated, but there is a way either of you can do it.”
After years of Methis’ private tutelage, both Twist and Spin had come to recognize those pauses. Spin pointed out the solution first. “We need to have something else absorb the shock energy, like our staffs.”
“Correct,” Methis nodded.
“Where are we?” Twist asked suddenly.
“Where do you think we are?” Methis countered.
“This looks a little like the beaches of the Iniliand Islands,” Twist commented, although I didn’t see any with black rocks when we were there although it’s cold enough here to be in the Iniliands.”
“On a clear day like this you can see other islands from most of the Iniliands,” Spinnaker added. “Of course we could be at the edge of the island group. Are we in northern Granom? This looks like an arctic or Antarctic island, especially with the pockets of snow in the shadows.”
“No,” Twist disagreed. “Too early for snow, I think.”
“Not necessarily,” Methis pointed out. “It could have been an early winter.”
“But it hasn’t been,” Spin argued. “Okay, scratch Granom we’re still in the Southern Hemisphere. Robander’s Island?” he asked, mentioning the name of the large island that covered Maiyim’s south polar region.”
“I don’t think so,” Twist shook her head. A few strands of dark red hair whipped around in the wind. “All the pictures I’ve seen of Robander’s feature dark gray rocks, not black ones.”
“You can find black basalt on Robander’s Island,” Methis told them. “But that is not where we are.”
“Oh no!” Twist exclaimed. “You didn’t. The Five Demons?”
“Xenlabit to be specific,” Methis nodded. “About three hundred years ago wizard candidates used to be brought to these islands to stand their final exams. Part of the test was to determine if the demon of the particular island the examiners chose was here or out in the world.”
“That’s easy,” Spin laughed. “He’s here. All the demons are permanently trapped in the bedrock of their islands.”
“Except for Arithan who was destroyed,” Methis nodded, “Yes. Of course, the real test was being able to prove it. It’s a spell that was never taught. A wizard had to figure it out for him or herself.”
“Is this our wizard’s trial?” Twist asked.
“You certainly know as much as many wizards did back then,” Methis admitted, “but not as much as most wizards do now. No, I just wanted a place where I was certain we would not be interrupted. Now you already know how to self-translocate. It’s the same spell whether you move an inanimate object or a person, but if you don’t want them to black out you need to remove the excess energy from them. It’s the same when you translocate yourself.”
“So we funnel the excess energy into our staffs,” Spin concluded, remembering past lessons..
“Your staff can handle it,” Methis nodded. “In most cases Twist’s would burn out if she tried it with hers, but for today I only want you two to translocate a few feet. A wooden staff will be safe enough if you discharge it between each use. You’ve both done it before, I know, but this time I’m going to want you to jump several times in fast succession. This is an excersise in fine control, not brute power.”
They spent the rest of the hour practicing translocating themselves across increasingly longer distances and with increasingly less time between jumps until Methis decided, “That’s enough for today. I want you practice this sort of exercise every day until you can do it without hesitation, although you’ll want to use the golden staff for anything over one hundred yards.” A moment later they were back in Olen.
“Let’s get breakfast,” Spinnaker suggested. “Even if we had eaten before class, I’d be ravenous now.”
“Sounds good to me,” Islandtwist agreed. “Join us, Fireiron,” she invited, remembering to use the mage name Methis normally went by at the school.
“Not this morning,” Methis begged off. “I have a final exam to administer.”
“Cafeteria or the boat?” Spin asked. Since their marriage they had been living on the Maiyim Bourne, although they stored most of their possessions in the instructor’s apartment Twist had lived in before she had met Spin. “We’re closer to the pier.”
“We should eat at the cafeteria,” Twist admitted. “It’s more sociable to mingle with the other teachers and students, but we could both stand a shower and a change of clothing.”
A few minutes later they stepped aboard Maiyim Bourne and, as always, greeted her. “Ahoy, Maiyim!”
“Ahoy, yourselves,” Maiyim laughed. “I’m right here, you know.” She abruptly appeared just inside the cabin. As always she appeared to be the living image of Oceanvine the Younger at roughly the age of twenty. “Did you have a nice lesson?”
“Always a lot of work,” Spin sighed, “but worth it.”
“Methis is a wonderful teacher,” Maiyim remarked.
They chatted for a few minutes before Twist excused herself to take a shower. When she was done, Spin did the same, so they were just settling down to coffee and a large plate filled with Twist’s favorite Granomish pastries when they heard footsteps coming down the pier. “Spin, Twisty,” they heard Freddy’s voice shouting. “Are you two home this morning?”
Maiyim promptly vanished as she always did when others came on board the boat. “We’re in the cabin,” Spin called back.
“And stop calling me Twisty!” Twist added although in the same cheerful tone Spin had used.
“Ah, good,” Freddy replied. “I was hoping to catch you in here. A better chance of talking privately.”
“Sounds serious,” Twist remarked. “Would you like some coffee?”
“A cup of Castelon would be appropriate,” Freddy replied naming a variety known for the port from which it originated.
“Do I want to know why that would be appropriate?” Spin asked as he opened the food box and pulled out a full, steaming mug of coffee. The box looked like any modern refrigeration unit but was actually a part of the same spell complex that was every bit as much a part of the Maiyim Bourne as Maiyim herself. The boat was a fabulous collection of spells with closets that produced whatever clothing was desired, a medicine cabinet that could diagnose problems and prescribe miracle cures and shelves on which any imaginable map could be found. Over the years, new magical and technological marvels had appeared on Maiyim Bourne such as the computer terminal built into the kitchen table and the TriVee screen in the master cabin. Compared to all that, a refrigerator-like box that produced food was almost mundane.
“Because I’d like you to accompany me to the Wennil Archipelago for the Castelon Spring Festival next week,” Freddy replied.
“Freddy,” Twist began, “We were planning to sail down to Silamon for the Cup Trials.”
“There will be plenty of time for that after Castelon,” Freddy pointed out.
“Why us?” Spin asked suspiciously. “You have a staff these days.”
“The folks up in Wennil are not the sort to be impressed by a large retinue,” Freddy replied, “but they will be impressed by two famous mages.”
“We’re not that famous,” Spin argued.
“The heck you aren’t!” Freddy laughed. “You two have been making headlines ever since The Lord Dathan was kidnapped and rescued. You got the Star of Emmine for that and then you went and caught the so-called Ghost of Tamd, not to mention your little trip to Midbar.”
“That was years ago,” Twist shook her head.
“And since then you’ve been to Silamon on business twice,” Freddy countered, “as well as Ellisto, Bellinen and pretty much everywhere in Emmine.”
“Not hardly,” Twist argued, but then she realized where Freddy was going with this. “You’re expecting activity from the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim?”
“Maybe,” Freddy allowed.
The Sons and Daughters of Maiyim were a secret organization of the ultra-rich. So secret, in fact, that for decades only conspiracy theorists believed they truly existed. They met quietly and without fanfare at random times in various locations that were chosen to seem coincidental, but bit by bit the truth about them came to light. No one knew what they called themselves and even their exact membership was uncertain, but in recent years there had been too much activity conducted by employees of the suspected members for mere coincidence. Occasionally misplaced memos came to light that indicated they had a long term plan to not so much rule the world as to direct the world leaders of Maiyim along whatever course the Sons and Daughters desired.
The incident in Horalia when the duke’s son was kidnapped was attributed to the Sons and Daughters as was the attempted sabotage of Candletown Power and Light on Midbar. Since then, Islandtwist and Spinnaker had found themselves in situations in which the Sons and Daughters seemed to be involved. They never encountered one of the leaders, but each time the troubles had led them back to key employees of suspected Sons and Daughters.
At times it seemed that the members of the secret organization were untouchable. Many of them were lords and ladies or else influential members of the Emmine Senate. Others were equally highly placed in the governments of Bellinen, Granom and the smaller nations of Maiyim. They never acted directly and because so many were part of their governments it was difficult for those governments to move against them even when they were so inclined.
Over the years since Spin had met Frederick Lord Olen, Freddy had become a solid part of the faction of Emmine’s House of Lords who opposed the Sons and Daughters and had frequently engaged Twist’s and Spin’s assistance and somehow they had always been the ones in the news. In the year following the incident on Midbar, reporters had dogged them incessantly except for the brief time they had spent at Methis’ Forge until Freddy had put his foot down and forbade the reporters of all news media from his estate. Even so, it took several arrests before the reporters took the prohibition seriously and eventually they turned their eyes toward other news makers. There were always plenty who actually wanted to be in the limelight.
“I’m going to show the flag,” Freddy went on, “but there has been an increase in what our security blokes call chatter on NetMaiyim.”
“Could just be the Eldists swapping recipes,” Spin remarked.
Eldism was a relatively new religion on Maiyim. It had begun in the Saindo Archipelago where Eldist leaders had taken over the government, lost it in a military coup and then regained power in a counter-coup. Since then, the Eldist priests had purged the government and military of their islands of all non-believers. One of the primary characteristics of Eldism was the denial of the divinity of the “Younger Gods,” something Methis, as one of those younger gods, found repugnant. Eldism, however, was not restricted to Saindo and had spread in small, militant pockets across the world. Eldists tended to be fanatical about their religion and their priests were reputed to condone the spreading of their religion by the sword or, in modern Maiyim, by the bomb. Publically, Eldist leaders condemned such violent attempts to spread their religion, but privately no one outside their congregations knew what was said.
“Could be,” Freddy nodded. “It probably has nothing to do with anything. Most of the time it just means more folks are sending messages to each other.”
“But not this time?” Twist asked. Freddy shrugged. “Well, it would only be for few days. I don’t suppose we have time to sail there, do we?”
Spin had been checking the NetMaiyim terminal. “Not unless you think we could skive off grading final exams.”
“Oh yeah,” Twist chuckled mirthlessly. “Mom would just love that.”
“We’ll take the county jet,” Freddy told them. “We’ll just stop off in Renton to pick up Tamollen and his family and then fly directly.”
The flight to Castelon was not quite as direct as Freddy had predicted. On boarding the plane, Lord Tamollen informed Freddy that Duke Natan of Horalia wanted a word with them, so the next leg of their journey was a quick hop across the Quarna Strait to Northerton where Lords Tamollen and Olen met privately while the Duke’s daughter, Lady Janin entertained Twist, Spin and Tamollen’s family.
“I had so hoped Amelie would be among you,” Janin remarked.
“Graduation for young Harold this weekend,” Tamollen’s wife, Denise, informed them. “He starts high school this fall. They did think of joining us afterwards, but it seemed a long way to go for just one day of the fair.”
They chatted on for another hour until Freddy and Tamollen returned. It was nothing you might not have guessed for yourselves,” Freddy told Twist and Spin once they were back in the air. “Several suspected Sons and Daughters members will be in attendance. More than we usually know about until after the fact, but we are not sure if there is any significance.”
“So they may be using this for one of their big secret meetings?” Spin asked.
“Maybe,” Freddy shrugged. “It’s hard to say, really. The Castelon Fair is a big to do and draws attendees from all over Maiyim. They may have just decided to go for the carnival rides and cotton candy.”
“And you believe that?” Twist asked skeptically.
“All His Grace wanted to do was advise us to keep our eyes open,” Freddy replied.
“Are we expecting another incident?” Twist asked. “The Sons and Daughters have been known to stage attacks at big events like this.”
“Not when they are actually in attendance, though,” Spin pointed out.
“It’s not considered to be of high probability,” Freddy told them. “Not when so many of them will be in the neighborhood. Remember these people are rich and clever. So far they have managed to avoid being implicated in any of the activities we are certain they are ultimately responsible for. When they do act it is through intermediaries, often through several levels so when we do catch someone it is only from what we think is their middle echelon. No, for now, we just keep our eyes open and report on what we see, or don’t see, later.”
“Welcome to Castelon!” Mayor Mertin Grince greeted them as they stepped out of Freddy’s jet.
“Nice of you to meet us personally, Mister Mayor,” Freddy replied, shaking his hand.
“My pleasure, Lord Olen,” Grince replied. “Perhaps the most pleasurable part of the job.”
Freddy handled the introductions, starting with Tamollen and his family before introducing Spin and Twist. “But I imagine you must have so many other dignitaries to meet as well,” Freddy chuckled.
“True,” Grince admitted, “but as I said, it’s part of my job. Actually it’s the greatest part of the job. My office is an elected one, but as you may know, the Wennil Archipelago does not have the usual sort of government.”
“There are some who think you have no real government at all,” Tamollen remarked.
“They would be mistaken, Lord Tamollen,” Grince laughed. “I would say rather that we are self-governed. Each man and woman of Wennil represents him and herself, literally. The City of Castelon is run by a committee chosen by our Council of Citizens, but that committee can be removed from office whenever the council meets, roughly once a month. My job is to preside over the committee and report to the council. It’s also to greet foreign dignitaries, especially those who do not understand that no one person is really in charge here.”
“So I have heard,” Freddy laughed. “You are the face of the people of Castelon and, by extension, the rest of Wennil since this is the only city on your islands.”
“To a lesser extent, yes,” Grince agreed. “There is a mechanism by which the entire population might meet in council but it has not been invoked in over two hundred years. Each island takes care of itself, knowing that the rest would come to its aid if need be.”
“Works for me,” Freddy remarked.
“Wenil’s self-sufficiency should stand as a model for us all,” Tamollen added somewhat sententiously.
“Did you practice that?” Freddy laughed.
“I did sound a bit stuffy, didn’t I?” Tamollen admitted.
“Too much time in Parliament, I fear,” Freddy retorted. “A week in this pleasant anarchy should sort you out, old man!”
Mayor Grince laughed politely. “Excuse me, Wizard Spinnaker.”
“I’m not a wizard, sir,” Spin corrected him. “I only earned my master’s degree last year.”
“I’m sorry,” Grince apologized. “I was just wondering if I could get your autograph and that of your wife for my son. He’s a big fan of yours.”
“We have fans?” Twist asked even as the mayor handed Spin a small notebook and a pen.
“Well, your characters do,” Grince replied. Spin finished signing his name and handed the book to Twist.
“What characters?” Spin asked.
“On the Tri-Vee show,” Grince replied. “‘True Cases.’ It’s very popular here.”
“Never heard of it,” Spin admitted. He turned toward Twist, “Have you?”
“I suspect someone owes us royalties,” she commented. She gave the book back to the mayor. “Is it produced here?”
“No, somewhere in Emmine, I think,” Grince replied. “You really don’t know about it?”
“We’ve been busy both taking classes and teaching them for years,” Spin explained. “I haven’t really had much time to watch TriVee, Freddy? Have you seen the show?”
Freddy turned from his conversation with Tamollen and asked “What show?”
After an explanation that took up most of the walk from the airport gate to the mayor’s waiting hopper, a flying car that could only be flown safely along carefully constructed lanes, Freddy replied, “I suppose I’ll have to buy copies of all the episodes.”
“I wonder who plays me?” Twist laughed nervously. “Maybe Maiyim would know. I’ll call her later.”
Freddy and Lord Tamollen had been playing word games since the plane touched down, but once they were alone in their adjoining suites, they got serious again. “We’re here on business as much as we are to show the flag and all,” Tamollen explained. “Aside from us, there are two Granomish barons coming in. Also Lords Mairsten and Amden will be on hand along with some other representatives to the International Congress. These are all our allies.”
“There are also several senators from Bellinen coming in who we hope we can sway to our point of view in international affairs,” Freddy added, “as well as Vice President Siowa from the Isle of Fire. The Isle has sided with Bellinen historically, but the new administration there is showing signs that they may be amenable to an alliance with Emmine and Granom.”
“So you really came here to push Emmine’s agenda while pretending to be on holiday,” Spin translated. “Just like the Sons and Daughters.”
“In a sense,” Tamollen admitted. “This is hardly the first time diplomats have mixed business with pleasure, you know.”
“So who are the Sons and Daughters we are supposed to be watching out for?” Twist asked.
“The Earl of Tolla is here with his daughter,” Freddy replied. “We’re absolutely certain he’s a core member of the Sons and Daughters. Then there’s Senator Grentoa, He’s a close ally of Bellinen President Wonitawa, who uses the phrase “New world order” too frequently to be taken lightly. Spin, I believe it was you who pointed that out to us years ago.”
“I was just repeating what, my friend, Alarn, told me,” Jerry admitted. “Maybe you should hire him for one of your staffs. He really knows more about the Sons and Daughters than I do.”
“He lives in Keesport?” Tamollen asked. Spin nodded. “Give me his address and I’ll look him up. Keesport’s not too far from Renton, you know.”
They spent the rest of the time until dinner going over various names of known and suspected Sons and Daughters, assessing the possibilities of their belonging to that elitist organization. “The plan,” Freddy summed up, “is to just keep an eye on them and try to track with whom they interact. Maybe we can add a few names to our list.”
“Lord Olen,” one of the festival organizers requested, “would you do us the honor of judging the dance contest?”
“I’d be delighted, old boy,” Freddy told him jovially, “but I know Masters Spinnaker and Islandtwist would love to be asked.”
“The Spinnaker and Islandtwist?” the organizer asked, sounding awed.
“The ones themselves,” Freddy nodded. “There they are over by the fried dough concession.”
“I’m not sure you did them any favors,” Tamollen told his cousin once the man had moved on.
“I wasn’t trying to,” Freddy admitted. “We have other work to do here and those two are celebrities whether they want to be or not. If I agreed to judge, we would have had to reschedule our appointment with Senator Gawa.”
“Good point,” Tamollen agreed, “and that would not have impressed the good senator, would it?”
Twist accepted the offer graciously, however and the two immediately started moving toward the dance venue.
“How does one judge a dance contest?” Spin asked Twist a few minutes later.
“If I understood correctly it’s an old-fashioned marathon,” Twist replied. “Last couple on their feet and conscious wins. We’re just there to officiate.”
“For how many days?” Spin asked.
“Huh?” Twist asked.
“Those old marathons used to run for days,” Spin told her. “The record is somewhere over five thousand hours.”
“Five thousand…” Twist’s voice trailed off. “That’s months.”
“I understand the contestants were allowed breaks on a regular basis,” Spin remarked. “They must have slept during them.”
“For, what? Three quarters of a year?” Twist asked. “They must have taken more than five or ten minute breaks.”
“Dance marathons were very dangerous,” Spin pointed out. “People died of exhaustion during them. They were outlawed in many places and in others the number of hours of dancing per day was seriously curtailed. I guess the long ones must have been like that, but surely they wouldn’t do something like that.”
Spin was right, it was a form of marathon dancing, but all the couples danced the same dance and the goal was to get the steps right, so as couples got caught in missteps they were eliminated. Also as the contest proceeded the tempo was increased so the chance of errors increased. Even so, the contest was three hours old with fifteen couples still dancing when the building shook gently and an alarm went off.
“There is nothing to fear,” someone announced over the public address system in the hall, “but just in case, would everyone please evacuate this venue in a calm and orderly fashion.”
There were a few gasps, followed by the sounds of excited conversations, but on the whole the people in the large hall did exit calmly. “What’s going on?” Spin asked one of the festival officials once he and Twist found one.
“There’s been an explosion,” the man explained, “at the amusement ride venue.”
“Must have been some explosion if we felt it here,” Spin remarked. “That’s about half a mile away, isn’t it?”
“Roughly, yes,” came the response. “We were concerned there might have been damage from the shaking, so we are bringing in a team to inspect before the contest continues.”
On learning the contest would be on hold for at least two hours, Twist suggested, “We should go over to the blast site and see if we can lend a hand there.” Spin agreed and they raced off only to be stopped by a security barricade.
“Please stay behind the line,” a stern security women instructed them. “You’ll only get in the way in here.”
“Let them through,” Lord Tamollen called from inside the secured area. “We need them in here.”
“Yes, sir,” the woman nodded and allowed the two mages to pass. “Just what we need,” she grumbled. More tourists.”
“I hope she’s wrong,” Spin told Twist as they rushed up to Tamollen and Freddy. “What happened here?”
“Someone set off a bomb,” Freddy explained.
“And they allowed foreign dignitaries into a potentially dangerous blast site?” Twist asked incredulously.
“Maybe they thought all the damage had been done,” Freddy commented.
“Maybe they weren’t thinking at all,” Twist shot back. “I wish I hadn’t left my staff back in Olen. We might need it.”
“I have the golden staff in my pocket,” Spin pointed out. “Do you want to hold it?”
“Not for now,” Twist replied, smiling at his thoughtfulness. “We may not need it. What sort of bomb was it?”
“Haven’t the foggiest,” Freddy admitted. “You might want to talk to the security detail looking into that.”
Jann Themis was looking annoyed by the thought that outsiders could do his job better than he could until he learned who Spin and Twist were. “So, you’ve heard of us from some TriVee show too?” Spin asked, trying not to sound sour.
Themis had been scanning the area with what looked like a hobbyist’s metal detector, but he switched the device off to talk to them.
“Hmm?” No,” Themis shook his head. “You two were featured in Tech Magic Monthly a few years ago after you repaired the power station on Midbar. It was an article about how traditional magic and tech magic should be used cooperatively rather than each field keeping to itself.”
“Sounds sensible enough,” Twist admitted, “Although we were only assisting Wizard Cirrus on that particular case.”
“Really?” Themis asked. “The article didn’t mention him.”
“Cirrus did try to give us all the credit when he talked to the reporters,” Spin reminded Twist.
“He was just trying to get them off his back,” Twist retorted. “He did, of course, and directly on to our backs. Well, Mister Themis, yes, we were there and we did play a part in bringing the fusion chambers at Candletown Power and Light back on line. How may we help out here?”
“We seem to have a case of a suicide bomber,” Themis explained. “We have that from witnesses. It was a younger man, no older than twenty-five years of age, human, pale skin and dark hair. He had a backpack of some sort on and was seen to take something out of it and leave it in a rubbish bin before walking on. A minute or so later… boom.”
“He left something in the trashbin?” Spin asked. “Has it been recovered?”
“I have assistants working on that now,” Themis explained. “It’s a large bin so it may take a while to find whatever it was. For all we know he may have just been throwing a candy wrapper away.”
“A suicide bomber who’s about to kill as many people as he can bothers to not be a litterbug?” Twist marvels.
“People can be strange that way,” Themis shrugged. “There was a man here a few years ago who used to run out on restaurants without paying the check, but he always left a generous tip for the waitress. We won’t really know unless whatever he dropped can be found and identified. Meanwhile I’ve been scanning for magical traces.”
“Oh?” Spin took a close look at the device in Themis’ hands. “Is that what that thing does? Can it diagnose the traces too?”
“It has a limited repertoire,” Themis admitted. “All I’m getting is proof that something exploded here. I was trying to get a notion of the size of the affected area. These magically ignited bombs sometimes carry infectious curses, you know.”
Twist looked around the area. “Impressive,” she murmured. “I would estimate it had a five hundred yard magical radius of effect, but so far as I can see, there was no additional spell associated with the blast. The explosive itself was not magical in nature, only the detonator was. It makes me wonder why anyone would bother with tech magic just to set off a bomb.”
“That part is simple enough,” Themis explained. “Most construction work using explosives employs tech magic detonators. They are standard equipment and easily ordered out of a catalog. The mystery is how he managed to get into the rides venue. With all the security, both visual and via tech magic scans, the device should have been detected.”
“Unless it was planted here ahead of time,” Spin pointed out. “Has the area been scanned regularly during the festival?”
“I doubt that could have been done unobtrusively,” Themis replied, “and scanning out in the open would have worried the populace. But we have been sweeping the area at night.”
“But apparently not needlessly,” Twist pointed out. “I see we’re near the periphery of the blast, where was the center and may we examine that?”
“Not the periphery of the blast,” Themis corrected her, “The edge of the magical field effect. The physical blast only effected a few dozen yards.”
“We felt it at the Dance Venue,” Spin informed him, “That’s more than a few dozen yards away.”
“Really?” Themis asked. “It must have been more powerful than I thought, but I assure you that people were only injured within a far narrower range. I need to measure the limits of the magical range first though.”
“Why?” Spinnaker asked. “There was no curse associated with it.”
“None that we know of yet,” Themis argued, “but spell traces like these fade quickly and if it turns out later that we missed something…” he trailed off.
“There,” Twist told him. “I’ve marked the perimeter with a bright red line. You can have one of those assistants of your measure it anytime within the next three hours. Will that do?”
“Thank you,” Themis told her. “The center of the blast was this way.”
The medics were just finishing up in that area by the time Themis and the mages arrived. It turned out that was where Freddy had gotten himself off to as well.”
“Freddy?” Twist asked. “What are you doing here anyway? Not just observing, I hope.”
“Helping,” the Earl of Olen replied. “I’m not a paramedic, but I have had some first aid experience and I can hand out bandages and such when needed. What have you learned so far?”
“Precious little,” Twist admitted. “We came to examine this area next, but from what I can see, there’s nothing of magical interest save confirmation that this was the center of the blast.”
“I can see that for myself, Twisty,” Freddy laughed, “and I don’t need your magical training to do it.”
“Is there anything left of the explosive device,” Spin asked Themis while Twist and her cousin were verbally sparring.
Themis shrugged but beckoned to one of his people, a woman in a blue security vest and repeated Spin’s questions. “We have it on the floater,” she informed them. “Not much more than a few scraps of badly charred cloth and wires and we think we found whatever it was that guy threw in the dumpster.”
She led them to the floater, which was hovering nearby. The floater was designed for hauling cargo, not passengers and had a wide flatbed behind the driver’s cabin. In it Spin could see the scraps the security officer described and another box with a bright orange light shining on top. It was not coming from a bulb of any sort, however, it was just a point of light hovering just over the surface of a slightly rounded cube, roughly one inch wide along each side. When Spin tried to examine either it or the remains of the bomb, however, none of his magical senses seemed to be working.
“Twist!” he called. “This is something you have to see.”
“What is it?” Twist asked approaching.
“No,” he stopped her. “Stay back a few yards and check this truck for spell traces.”
Twist did so. “Is there a null-magic generator in there?” she asked.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Spin admitted. “I’m inside the field and cannot see anything out of the ordinary. The generator, if that’s what it is, is tiny though. What is its range?”
“Mmm,” Twist concentrated and looked carefully. “About six or seven yards, I’d say. Had I taken another step I’d have been inside it as well. Can you disarm it?”
Spin reached in, picked up the small device and commented, “I’ve never seen one of these so small.” He felt all the surfaces but could find no physical switches. “I doubt I can disarm it,” he decided. “It may have had an activation spell originally, but once it was activated the traces would have fallen within the field of effect. Shouldn’t that have nullified the nullification spell too?”
“Not if the activator was a containment spell,” Twist conjectured. “The activation would dissipate the container, releasing the null-magic field.”
“I wasn’t aware you could contain a null-magic field,” Spin pointed out. “At least none of my classes ever covered such a possibility.”
“Oh yeah,” Twist replied, embarrassed. “I forgot, but maybe the activator just served to cast the null-magic field? No, that wouldn’t work either. When nullified it would have stopped working instantly.”
“Then it must have been started up where it was manufactured and came here already active,” Spin decided. “I don’t think that matters too much, I was just curious. Could this have kept the bomb from being detected.”
“We would have noticed the detectors suddenly going inactive when it came through,” Themis replied, “but if, as you theorize, the bomb was placed here in advance, our sweepers probably would not have detected it while inside the field. They aren’t as intelligent as the one I was using when we met. Let me see the remains of the bomb, though.”
Spin stepped aside and let Themis go to work. While he might not have been a mage, he did know his tech magic very well. “I’ve seen bombs like this one before,” he told the mages. “Or rather what’s left looks like a fairly common class of such devices. If it were intact, I think I could defuse it in a minute or two.”
“I always wondered about that,” Spin commented. “I mean I could probably suppress the explosion and just pull out all the wires, but…”
“Not on this one,” Themis chuckled. “That might have worked a deccde or two ago, but these days, devices like this are set to detonate when tampered with by any magical spell. That includes the null-magic field from the generator.”
“Then how did it get here and wait for the bomber to arrive?” Twist asked. —The bomber couldn’t have brought the null-magic generator with him. He would have been caught going through a security checkpoint, right?”
“It was left here in advance too,” Spin concluded. “Just not in the proximity of the bomb.”
“Then Mister Themis’ sweeps would have picked the bomb up earlier,” Twist pointed out, “or set it off.”
“Neither,” Themis toìd them. “We use passive scanners, checking for magical emanations, we don’t actively scan as though with a radar.”
“That’s the way we scan with our senses too,” Twyst admitted. “Yes, that makes sense.”
“No one has used an active scanner in security in a very long time,” Themis informed them, “but while the null-magic field activated the bomb or rather its detonator, the field also stopped it from going off until the bomb was ouv of the field of effect.”
“Oh!” Spin noddet. “So when he threw the null magic generator away the countdown began as soon as he was far enough away.”
“Right,” Themis nodded. “Then he had a minute or two to find as large a crowd as he could.”
“I should have asked sooner,” Twist admitted, “But just how many people were killed or hurt?”
“Six were kilìed in the immediate blast,” Themis informed her. “At least two dozen were rushed to the local hospital. I’m not sure of the numbers and some may have died since then.”
“Thank the gods that bomb wasn’t carrying a curse as well, then,” Twist decided. “The casualties might have been in the hundreds.”
“Thousands,” Themis corrected her. “The venue was packed at the time it went off. The next question though is who’s to blame?”
“Eldist Crusade is claiming credit for the bombing,” Mayor Grince told them late that evening when they met to apprise him of the situation. “I want to thank you all, especially Masters Islandtwist and Spinnaker for stepping in to help out.”
“We’d be very poor guests if we just stood around and did not at least offer,” Spin pointed out. “Do we know for certain it was Eldist Crusade, or are they just saying they did it?”
“That organization has used volunteer bombers before,” Twist pointed out. “I haven’t heard iv they used a null magic generator as both disguise and part of the detonation though. In fact I tend to doubt it. Null-magic gunerators are very expunsive and hard to build and this one had to have been a customized job. It’s the smallest we’ve ever heavd of. Eldist Crusade sounds large, but I seriously doubt they have the fmnancial resources to purchase something like this especially when the hallmark of their activities is to throw away lives, but not money.”
“Does it matter if Eldist Crusade actually did it?” Freddy asked.
“It might,” Michael, Lord Tamollen replied. “Sometimes a notorious group like Eldist Crusade gets the blame for such a crime while it was actually committed by a more local, home-grown threat. If that were the case, the threat would still be there and active.”
“We have not had troubles like this from any Wennil-base organizations,” Meyor Grince remarked.
“The people of Wennil do not tend to form organizations much beyond a neighborhood watch in any case,” Themis added."“If not the Eldist Crusade, I would guess it was someone like them. We still have not identified the body of the bomber. If he had no criminal record nor served in any military capacity, we may never know who he was. If he was Eldist Crusade, he might have been a Saindan in which case I doubt there are records even in Saindo. We may be anarchists, but they…” he trailed off- unable to put his thought to polite words.
“Anarchy is not necessarily chaos,” Mayor Grince poioted"out. “Wennil is not given to a strong central government, but we don’t need one in order to live peaceful and prosperous lives here. I should mention that President Wonitawa of Bellinen has offered to send a small peace-keeping expedition to Wennil for the duration of our current problem.”
“That is a generous offer,” Freddy commented carefully, “but I don’t know that I would advise you to accept it.”
“Ha!” Grince laughed. “I would refuse that even if you hadn’t so advised me. Bellinen only helps those from whom they can help themselves. Their small peace-keeping expeditions always turn out to be much larger than described and somehow they always seem to have a reason to stay long past their welcome. My ancestors would rise up from their graves to spit at me if I allowed Bellinen to gain a foothold in Wennil.”
Freddy nodded, but no one said anything else for a long moment until Grince broke the silence, “I notice you aren’t offering similar assistance from Emmine.”
“Wennil has always been a model of self-sufficiency,” Freddy replied easily. “If you need help from your neighbors, I know you wouldn’t hesitate to ask, but obviously the men and women of Wennil can handle this situation well without outside interference.”
“Hear, hear,” Tamollen agreed quietly.
“All volunteers,” Grince pointed out. “Foreigners often think we are weak because we have neither an army nor a navy, but they are wrong. We do not need to draft soldiers to enlist or generals to command them. We stand alone as individuals, but we can also and do stand together. None of us are military, but in a way we all are. Every man and woman will defend Wennil against a foreign incursion.”
“Not the children?” Spin asked.
“Any child capable of handling a weapon would join in and be counted as an adult,” Grince replied confidently. “Now, do we have any notion of where that null magic generator came from?”
“Jann Themis took it back to his lab,” Spin replied. “A device like that could never have been cobbled together in someone’s basement and every known factory has signature features that are artifacts of the manufacturing process.”
“We think this was a custom job,” Twist added. “This was an amazingly small device considering what it did and if it was a regular product I think we would have heard of them before. Most null magic fields are generated by equipment larger and heavier than that was and none of them could have been slipped into a pocket.”
“If it was customized,” Grince asked, “will it be possible to figure out which factory it came from?”
“Tech magic spells are not cast by people,” Spin explained. “They are generated mechanically and the machines that do it are constantly being reprogrammed for different jobs. However, each machine leaves a distinctive trace on any spell it casts, even a null magic spell and those traces have been recorded in several databases.”
“What if it was done with a new machine?” Freddy asked. “One not in the database.”
“It would have to be a very new machine,” Twist replied. “The tech magic manufacturers are constantly updating those databases with the signatures of the machines of rival factories. If we do not learn where it came from immediately, we will eventually.”
“All festival venues have been closel since the bomb went off,” Freddy commen|ed. “Is that going to continue?”
“Nobody wants that,” Mayor Grince replied. “We open again in the morning.”
“Isn’t that a bit callous of the feelings of the victims’ survivors?” Tamollen asked.
“It was the survivors who demanded we reopen,” Grince admitted. “Wennil is really unlike anywhere else on Maiyim. Most places would end their festivals when something like this happens, but we see it as an act of defiance. We came together to celebrate the season and we will, no matter what. That is just the way we are. Someone attacked us to get us to stop, so we go on.”
“But isn’t there a chance there could be another such incident?” Tamollen persisted.
“There is a chance whether the festival goes on or not, Lord Tamollen,” Grince replied. “It may as well go on. We have stepped up security and all venues are being searched overnight for similar threats. We’re not reckless, but we aren’t going to let anyone else, least of all the Eldists try to control us.”
Twist and Spin, on discovering the dance contest had been cancelled, went to visit Jann Themis in his lab. “Any news on the null magic generator?” Twist asked.
“Yes,” Themis nodded. “We’ve learned quite a bit about it overnight. First of all the power source was exhausted before midnight, so that bomb would have gone off regardless of whether the suicide bomber had been wearing it.”
“The rides close at midnight, don’t they?” Spin asked.
“Yes,” Themis nodded, “so there could have been almost as many deaths and injuries if they had done it that way.”
“A fail safe, do you think?” Twist wondered.
“Perhaps,” Themis shrugged, “but that little device probably never had more than a twenty-four hour charge in it anyway. The good news is that we have been able to determine the manufacturer. That little box was charged up on Killarn in one of the machines at Killo Magic, Inc.”
“Bellinen?” Spin did not quite ask.
“I wouldn’t put too much weight on that,” Themis commented. “Killo Magic produces a lot of customized tech magic devices. While there are no makers’ marks or labels, even on the inside of the box, and it really is a box, hollow inside, that’s why it didn’t hold a large charge, we were able to get a clear spell signature as the null magic field degraded.”
“You’re sure of this?” Twist pressed.
“A catalog of tech magic spell traces is one of my most powerful forensic tools,” Themis assured her. “I was extra careful and triple-checked the results because while Killo Magic is a fairly large factory, a very small null-magic device like this one is not one of their regular products.”
“A custom job then, as you thought,” Spin nodded.
“Or the work of one individual, doing a job on the side,” Themis told him. “That’s been known to happen too. Normally it’s just some parent making a new toy for their son or daughter, but the chance to make some money on the side while the boss isn’t looking has tempted more than a few employees.”
“I want to investigate that factory,” Spin decided.
Freddy agreed later that evening when Spin said the same thing to him. “I’d like to as well, but we cannot.”
“Why not?” Spin asked. “We have probable cause or whatever the legal term is in this case.”
“If the factory were in Emmine,” Freddy replied, “I would be leading the charge,” but we cannot go barging into a factory in Bellinen like that. For starters, no one here in Wennil is hiring you to look into this case.”
“They don’t have to,” Spin shook his head.
“Yes they do,” Freddy retorted firmly. “And it would be assumed someone in Wennil, likely the mayor, did hire you if you went to Killarn to investigate.”
“I’ll deny it if anyone asks,” Spin replied stubbornly.
“Like that would make a difference, Spin?” Freddy laughed harshly. “Bellinen would not believe you and might well use it as an excuse to send that so-called peace-keeping force here anyway. Spin this is a matter of international politics. It’s based on perception, not truth. If the truth will serve your purposes then that is what you want the other guy to see, but lies may serve as well depending on the situation. This is a game played by all sides and the politicians in Bellinen will just assume your actions are part of Emmine’s latest ploy. The odds are you would be arrested and then either slapped in jail or deported.”
“What? For investigating the murder of the bomb victims?” Spin asked belligerently.
“Yes,” Freddy told him calmly. “Precisely. And Wennil’s government, what little there is, wouldn’t thank you for getting them involved in that either. They would deny any connection with you.”
“Which would be the truth,” Spin pointed out.
“And would not be believed,” Freddy countered, “or even if it was believed, Bellinen would act as though they did not since they could use it to further their own goals. So you are not going to investigate that factory.”
“But I am,” Twist told them from nearby, picking up her mobile comm. In modern Maiyim, most people had their communicators implanted. It allowed for fast and convenient communications and one could never misplace their phone that way, but Twist was allergic to such implants so hers was an external unit.
“What are you doing?” Freddy asked her nervously.
“Making a phone call,” Twist replied unhelpfully.
“To Bellinen, I suppose?” Freddy asked. A look in his eye indicated he was preparing another lecture concerning the nature of international politics.
“No, to Emmine,” Twist smiled at him. “Olen, actually. Oh, hi, Maiyim! How are you this evening.”
“Twist! This is a surprise,” Maiyim’s voice responded through the comm. “Does it have anything to do with that bomb yesterday?”
“It does, dear,” Twist admitted. “I was wondering if you could do a little research for me. You are ever so much better with computer searches than I am.”
“I don’t know about that,” Maiyim laughed, “but I am faster. What do you want to know?”
Twist promptly brought her up to date and then asked, “So what can you tell me about the Killo Magic, Inc. factory?”
“Which one?” Maiyim asked. “They have two. One is in Killo and the other in Direford.”
“Hmm, hold on,” Twist requested and repeated the question to Spin and Freddy.
“Jann didn’t mention the Direford factory,” Spin pointed out, “but I’m interested in hearing about the company in general. Can you put that on speaker?”
“Killo Magic produces a wide variety of tech magic,” Maiyim informed them, “mostly household items. Their best seller is that quick-cook oven that stays cool to the touch we see advertised on the screen all the time.”
“Is that them?” Freddy asked. “I thought those came out of the Isle of Fire.”
“Not directly,” Maiyim chuckled. “Tinawa Products, out of Rjalkatyp, holds the patent and sells the ovens exclusively, but they are produced in Killo. Killo Magic has quite a few contracts like that actually.”
“Do any of their clients sell null magic field generators?” Spin asked.
“Just one,” Maiyim replied. “Ponar Scientific. They sell a compact generator used in laboratories to determine the absolute physical properties of materials and objects independent of magical influence.”
“How compact?” Twist asked.
“Small enough to fit on a bookshelf according to their advertising,” Maiyim replied. She paused and added, “the actual measurement are eight inches by six by six.”
“Not small enough,” Spin remarked.
“Excuse me?” Maiyim asked.
“Never mind,” Spin told her. “What can you tell us about the company?”
“Ponar Scientific?” Maiyim asked, “or Killo Magic?”
“Killo Magic for now, dear,” Twist specified.
“Ah,” Maiyim paused. “Killo Magic was founded forty-three years ago by a mage known as Master Quicksilver. They originally made most of their money producing children’s toys until the company was bought out twenty-seven years ago by Modern Miracles, Inc.”
“I’ve heard of them,” Freddy remarked. “Modern Miracles products have been banned across most of the world.”
“Which would explain why they dropped that name in favor of Killo Magic,” Maiyim pointed out. “The current owners, Henchowa Henna and his wife Senni, are… oh my!”
“What is it, Maiyim?” Spin asked, concerned.
“According to several net sites they are suspected of being core members of the Sons and Daughter of Maiyim,” Maiyim replied. “Is that why you’re asking about them?”
“Maybe,” Twist admitted, “although this is news to us too.”
“How are you getting all this information and so rapidly?” Freddy interrupted.
“I am very good and very fast, Lord Olen,” Maiyim replied confidently.
“I could use someone like you on my staff,” Freddy admitted. “Most of my people would take days to put together this sort of information from so many different sources. It’s like you live inside the computers. And you are in Olen?”
“Except for when I travel,” Maiyim replied. “Oh, now this is interesting too. While Killo Magic is known for its manufacture of household items, the owners have another company, Tremulo and Aiwa, Ltd. that manufactures various products for the Bellinen Army and Navy.”
“Weapons?” Freddy asked.
“Possibly,” Maiyim allowed. “The details are not on the public record, but from the names of the files, it’s a possibility.”
“Names of the files?” Freddy asked.
“Yes, Lord Olen. I did not cruise the Net via the graphic interface most users do,” Maiyim informed him. “I work my way through the basic file structure. Hmm, should I open the file named ‘N-Bomb Project’ do you think?”
“We discussed this years ago, Maiyim,” Twist stopped her. “You cannot just go invading private files.”
“It sounded like this might be an exception,” Maiyim explained. “The names of the files are not hidden. Anyone could see them if they looked at them the way I do.”
“There’s a military project named ‘N-Bomb’ that is not in a hidden file?” Freddy asked incredulously.
“Oh the file is marked as being hidden,” Maiyim admitted, “but it is still in the catalog of the computer on which it resides. Pretty sloppy, if you ask me.”
“Most users do not browse the way you do, dear,” Twist told her.
“No, but there is also no reason these files should be on a computer that is connected to Net Maiyim. If I ever needed money, I could make a fortune teaching people how to really secure their data,” Maiyim replied. “Anyway, I brought up the N-Bomb file because I thought the N might stand for ‘Null magic.’”
“It might,” Spin admitted, “although with all the null-magic armor these days, how useful would a null magic generator be in a military situation?”
“Hard to say,” Freddy told him. “No one has fought a real war in centuries, I’m glad to say. A wide area null-magic field could be used to inhibit magical attacks.”
“Mages have traditionally been neutral during times of war,” Twist pointed out, “and the Treaty of Sinid came about the way it did because both Bellinen and Granom attempted to force their mages to fight.”
“And yet Bellinen still forces mages to develop new weapons and offensive spells,” Spin pointed out. “Remember what Cirrus told us about his early career?”
“Emmine and Granom have similar research projects,” Freddy told them, “although ours are mostly defensive in nature. I think that’s Granom’s slant on military magic as well.”
“From what Cirrus told me,” Spin countered, “the basic difference is in how such a spell is deployed. A lot of those so-called defensive spells are still seriously dangerous to the caster.”
“All high level magic is dangerous,” Twist commented in agreement. “That’s why so much magic is prohibited for anyone below the Master rank and a lot should be prohibited to all.”
“Twisty, it would be dangerous to us if we did not at least try to counter any of Bellinen’s advances along those lines,” Freddy pointed out.
“I’m not so sure Bellinen’s mages would obey orders if it came to an outright conflict,” Twist argued.
“Is it worth taking a chance, though?” Freddy asked.
“Neither of us is going to convince the other,” Twist pointed out. “Maiyim, dear, I think for now it would be best to leave that N-Bomb file alone. Just because the null-magic generator we found came from there, we do not have a clear connection between that and the N-Bomb.”
“I think it just describes what we already know about what happened here,” Spin decided “and, Freddy, while I hate to admit it, I think you’re right. We cannot just go invading that factory because we suspect they may have produced that generator.”
“Actually, this has convinced me just the opposite,” Freddy admitted. “If this generator is part of something called an N-bomb…”
“Then it is hardly a useful military weapon,” Spin pointed out. “What we had here was a terrorist attack and not a very successful one.”
“A dozen people died,” Freddy argued, “either immediately or soon after. Many more were injured and Eldist Crusade is crowing about their great victory over the infidel. From the point of view of the terrorist, I’d say it was very successful.”
“The point of terrorism is to terrify,” Spin argued. “If they were trying to frighten the people of Wennil, then they failed miserably. Maiyim, who’s currently in charge in the Saindo Archipelago?”
“Saindo, Spin?” Maiyim echoed. “Well, as you know the military junta was captured five years ago and everyone involved was… oh my gosh! They were beheaded. How barbaric! Anyway, since then a committee of Eldist priests has established what they call an ‘Eldist republic,’ in which Eldist religious law is paramount. The High Priest of the Eldist Church is Fallip Dainor. He does not actually hold governmental office in Saindo, but no one moves without his approval there.”
“And his connection to Eldist Crusade?” Spin pressed.
“He founded the movement,” Maiyim responded instantly, “although at this time he claims he has no direct connection to them or their leaders.”
“Bull pucky!” Freddy spat. “For an archipelago so long steeped in the worst sort of anarchy, Saindo’s politicians seem to have grasped the art of lying like they were born to it.”
“They probably were,” Spin replied. “Before the first Eldist government there, the place had been a thug-ocracy for centuries. The whole archipelago was split up into the private territories of their dozens of warlords. Not exactly a breeding ground for truth and enlightenment, especially when speaking the truth about one of those warlords was likely to get you killed.”
“And those warlords always lied about themselves when dealing with the rest of the world,” Freddy admitted. “True enough. We seem to have gone off on a tangent, though.”
“Not really,” Spin shook his head. “My point was that an attack by Eldist Crusade is essentially an attack by Saindo regardless of the lies and rhetoric. So Saindo has attacked Wennil. They attempted to terrorize Wennil, in fact, but as I pointed out, they were less than successful. What Saindo had better hope is that they did not anger the people of Wennil too much or else Wennil is likely to solve the Saindo Question for the rest of us permanently.”
“Wennil would never undertake a war of extinction,” Freddy disagreed.
“They might if they believed it was their best defense,” Spin argued. “What do we say the best defense is?”
“A strong offense,” Freddy nodded, “but I don’t think this one incident will be enough to send the two island groups to war with each other.”
“Probabaly not,” Spin agreed. “What about the next one, though?”
Freddy had no good answer to that and instead turned back to Twist’s comm and Maiyim. “Um, Maiyim, dear,” he began.
“Olen, darling,” she countered archly.
“Hmm, I was a bit too familiar, wasn’t I?” Freddy admitted. “Very well, Miss…”
“Jenynges,” Maiyim supplied.
“Are we related?” Freddy asked.
“Yes and no,” Maiyim laughed. Twist and Spin looked at each other and smiled their recognition of Maiyim’s reference. Technically, one could claim Maiyim was a daughter of Oceanvine the Younger, therefore her surname might be Jenynges or Hardisty. Twist did not know why Maiyim had chosen to use Oceanvine’s maiden name but she could, in a strange way, be Freddy’s cousin, somewhat removed. “Perhaps we can go into that another time.”
“I was wondering if I might employ you and your amazing computer skills,” Freddy told her.
“Perhaps,” Maiyim acquiesced, “but I won’t do any illegal hacking for you.”
“I can live with that,” Freddy admitted. “Perhaps you could come to my office next week?”
“That would be problematic,” Maiyim laughed. “It would probably be best if you came to mine. You will understand when you meet me, I’m sure. Spin? Is this all right with you?”
“Whatever you want, Maiyim,” Spin told her.
“So long as you don’t let him convince you that the ends justify the means,” Twist added.
“Twisty!” Freddy protested.
“Freddy,” Twist replied, “I know you well enough. The first time Maiyim refused to pry beyond the legal limit you’d try convincing her it was a case of national security. Laws are for everyone, especially the government.”
“I know that,” Freddy told her somewhat defensively.
“But lately you seem to forget every so often,” Twist pointed out. “Look, Freddy, I know you’re privy to sensitive information I don’t know and that it’s easy to think that if we just bend one little rule or suspend some inconsequential right, everyone will be so much better off. We’ve all seen what happened a few years ago when the Eldist attacks were at their height. Everything went into security mode and our leaders started telling us we have to give up the right of privacy in the form of more intense searches at airports in order to be safe.
“Well, guess what?” Twist went on. “We’re not any safer than we were before. You have a private jet so you don’t experience it, but we go through several security scans anytime we travel by plane, and can expect to be pulled out of a line at random in order to endure a physical search, and yet the Eldists are still attacking.”
“Some plots have been stopped in advance,” Freddy argued.
“How many of them got caught by airport security?” Twist countered. “Three the first year and after that, none at all. The world is mostly water. Why aren’t we scanning passengers on ships? They carry more luggage than flyers can and without restrictions as to what they can carry. We haven’t identified the bomber here, but according to Eldist Crusade’s propaganda he was an 18 year old from Mati. How did he get here? Not by plane, I looked that up. Must have been by ship. So with all the security measures inconveniencing legitimate travelers, for all the sacrifice of personal liberties, we haven’t really gained much safety.”
“You don’t know that,” Freddy told her. “It could have been much worse.”
“And you don’t know that,” Twist argued. “None of us do. We cannot know for certain what would have happened, because it did not happen.”
“You can’t argue that history didn’t change the day the Nersing Tower was destroyed,” Freddy retorted.
“I hate that expression,” Spinnaker cut in. “And I can argue the point. History did not change. History never changes. History is what happened in the past. What changed was the present and our hopes for the future. What changed was our view of the world and how it works. But the only way history changes is when someone rewrites it and even then what happened doesn’t change, merely its significance to us changes.”
“Semantics!” Freddy exclaimed.
“Fairly important ones, I think,” Spin replied. “Look, I’m confident Maiyim knows the difference between right and wrong, and I am also confident that you’ll never convince her to do something she feels is either illegal or morally wrong.”
“Thank you, Spin,” Maiyim said through the comm. “Lord Olen, if you want my services as a researcher, I’m sure we can work something out. I will contact you on your return home.”
“Wait,” Freddy told her. “At least let me give you the number of my private line.”
“Have it,” Maiyim replied and recited the comm number. “We’ll be talking soon. Spin, Twist, I miss you both.”
“We should be home in a few days,” Twist informed her.
The Spring Festival ended two days later and Twist wanted to stay on to help with the investigation into the bombing, but her plans changed abruptly that morning when Freddy and Tamollen came to her and Spin..
“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Freddy chuckled as he entered the room. He was holding a large dark brown envelope sealed with bright green wax. “This just arrived. I believe you are about to go on an unexpected expedition” He handed the envelope to Twist.
Twist had not been “wearing” her emerald in public during the festival, but it was circling her head now, leading Freddy to conclude she and Spin had been engaged in what they called their morning exercises. He glanced over at Spin and saw him catch a small hex nut and slip it into his shirt pocket, confirming Freddy’s suspicions. Twist examined the seal on the envelope and asked, “These are the arms of Granom?”
“Right in one,” Freddy replied. “It appears His Majesty has something to say to you.”
“Why?” Spin asked. “What’s in there?”
“Open it and find out,” Freddy grinned.
“I figure it would be faster to ask you,” Spin retorted. “You sound like you have already seen it.”
“I would never stoop to opening someone else’s mail,” Freddy told him seriously, “especially an official message from a friendly monarch.”
“But we do have a notion of what it says,” Tamollen cut through the banter. “Open it, however, and we shall all know for certain.”
Twist shrugged and using a simple spell, caused a slit to open up along one edge of the envelope. As is did the edge turned bright red within half an inch of the cut. “See, Twisty?” Freddy told them. “That envelope is tamper-proof. Had anyone opened it before you we would have known.”
“I’m not the one who accused you of reading our mail, Freddy,” Twist told him testily and she extracted the contents, a single, unfolded sheet with a full color rendition of the royal arms of the Kingdom of Granom at the top. “Is this real parchment?” Twist asked.
“Vellum,” Tamollen corrected her. “Although that does appear to be His Majesty’s handwriting on it, not that of a scribe. I wonder if the contents are equally unusual.”
“From Ksaveras XVII, King of Granom,” Twist began.
“He’s using the informal mode of his title, I see,” Freddy observed dryly.
Twist shot him a stern glance and continued reading aloud, “Warmest felicitations and greetings to my esteemed cousins, Masters Spinnaker and Islandtwist.”
“Interesting,” Tamollen murmured. “Freddy, old boy, how long would you say it has been since any Granomish monarch has referred to a human as his cousin.”
“Aside from the King of Emmine, you mean?” Freddy asked.
“Well, yes, of course,” Tamollen grinned. “All kings are cousins, it appears, regardless of genetic evidence to the contrary.”
“Do you two mind?” Twist stopped them. “I’m trying to read here.”
“Twisty, I’ve seen you read the most boring text books in a noisy ballroom without any problem,” Freddy retorted. “Surely one conversation is not distracting you. Maybe that gem of yours is distracting you. Ow!” he broke off as Twist sent her emerald to bounce off his forehead and then return back to its orbit around her. “You haven’t done that to me in years, Twisty.”
“You haven’t asked for it in years,” Twist retorted. “Anyway, His Majesty’s handwriting is not the easiest to read.”
“Really?” Tamollen asked, leaning over to look for himself. “I was under the impression that his handwriting was impeccable.”
“But he obviously learned a different script than we teach students in Emmine,” Spin noted. “This looks almost like calligraphy.”
“It’s an old fashioned script,” Tamollen noted, “but then His Majesty is an elderly man. Go on, dear.”
“I already have,” Twist reported. “Under all the hearts and flowers, he wishes us well and invites us to come ‘enjoy the hospitality of the Wurra Palace’ at our convenience.”
“Us?” Spin asked.
“So it says,” Twist shrugged. “I suppose we could find some time at the end of the summer.”
“No, no,” Tamollen told her. “That won’t do at all.”
“Twisty, this might look like the royal version of a homespun greeting,” Freddy added, “but actually it is a request to attend him as quickly as possible.”
Twist took another look at the missive. “Are all Granomen masters of understatement?” she asked, “or is it just their king?”
“It was necessary to phrase the letter as a polite and non-urgent invitation for diplomatic reasons,” Freddy explained.
“Well, that explains everything,” Twist laughed. “Diplomats never say what they mean, Do they?”
“So it might seem,” Tamollen sighed, “but you were correct about one thing.”
“Only one?” Twist asked playfully.
“Well, only one I was going to accent just now,” Tamollen admitted. “We did know the general gist of that letter before you read it. It came by way of the Granomish embassy in Randona and His Excellency informed us that His Majesty has an urgent request for you.”
“What is it?” Spin asked just ahead of Twist.
“That we do not know,” Tamollen admitted, “I doubt the ambassador did either, but he assures us this is of the utmost importance.”
“It practically sounds like we’ve been invited for a sleepover,” Twist remarked.
“There are clues in there,” Freddy pointed out. “He calls you cousins, for example. Not a very likely relationship considering we are different species.”
“Or he could just be using the term like they do in Methiscia,” Spin pointed out. “They call everyone ‘cousin,’ don’t they?”
“I doubt he was being quite that familiar,” Tamollen commented. “In any case, King Othon has replied, assuring Ksaveras that you will attend him with all due haste.”
“Then we are going by royal command?” Twist raised an eyebrow.
“Two royal commands, in fact,” Freddy told her. “Can you be packed and ready to run in half an hour?”
“We can be packed in a few minutes,” Twist replied. “It might have been nice to have a chance to do our laundry.”
“It might have been nice to have a chance to pack warmer clothing,” Spin added. “It’s winter in the northern hemisphere.”
“No, it’s still the middle of the autumn,” Tamollen corrected him, “but I had my assistant book the flight for you. It leaves in about two hours, but you’ll have a one day layover on the Isle of Fire. You can go shopping there, if you like and have the hotel launder your clothing.”
“Assuming we find a hotel room,” Spin remarked. “Rjalkatyp is a favorite place for academic conferences, I hear. For all we know the whole city is booked up.”
“Good point,” Tamollen admitted. “Instead, you should stay at our embassy there. Technically you are on royal business, there’s no reason they cannot put you up for the night. I’ll make the arrangements. You get to packing.”
A few wisps of steam were wafting above the New Island, just to the south of Rjalkatyp as the plane circled in for a landing. “Is that an active volcano?” Spin asked, looking out the window.
“Didn’t you know?” Twist asked. “The New Island formed when Mount Rjal became dormant about three centuries ago.”
“But it’s practically in the mouth of their harbor,” Spin pointed out.
“I don’t suppose the volcano asked about that before it erupted the first time,” Twist chuckled. From what I can see, it doesn’t seem to be stopping their maritime traffic down there.”
“Mostly fishing boats from what I can see,” Spin commented. “I guess that makes sense, though. The Isle of Fire is noted for its fish. Hmm.”
“What is it?” Twist asked, looking over Spin to see what might have caught his eye.
“Oh nothing,” Spin shrugged. “I was just thinking. Floaters can hover over water, right?”
“You know that,” Twist agreed.
“Right, so why are we still building conventional boats and ships?” Spin asked. “Floaters move faster and floater-lorries can haul almost any load.”
“I’m fairly sure a ship is more economical for hauling large cargo,” Twist remarked. “All the power of the engines goes toward pushing it through the water. It stays afloat through natural buoyancy. I must admit that the use of fossil fuels seems wasteful.”
“Only a few old antiques use oil anymore,” Spin told her. “The only coal burners are museum pieces for that matter. Nearly all cargo ships have been using tech magic engines for over a century. Most still are propelled by screw, but the last time I spoke to my Dad, he told me there’s an “Impeller” being used in the newer Granomish ships that push them forward without the use of a propeller.”
“A stored telekinesis spell?” Twist asked. “I wasn’t aware you could store enough of a charge to make that workable.”
“I don’t know,” Spin admitted. “Dad’s not a mage, but he is an expert on shipping. He got what he told me out of a trade journal. It mentioned the impellors and their advantages, but not the technical details of how they work. If we have time and we’re still interested, I suppose we can ask while we’re in Querna.”
“Please return your trays to the seat backs in front of you and your seats into their full upright positions,” the pilot’s voice announced over the intercom. “We shall be landing at Blizzard International in just a few minutes.”
“Blizzard International?” Spin asked. “Not a warm and inviting name.”
“Madame Blizzard was one of those rare mages who went into politics,” Twist informed him. “She was the president of the Isle of Fire several times and was probably the most beloved in the history of this island.”
“Was she?” Spin asked. “I’m surprised she wasn’t mentioned in any of those History of Magic courses I had to sit through.”
“Her contributions were not in the field of magic,” Twist replied, “although I have seen her name on the list of former teachers at the school. No, wait. Not the one in Olen, at least I don’t think so, but I think she may have taught briefly at Oceanvine the Elder’s school in Renton. The Olen Institute has the records, such as they are, from the Renton School.”
“And you’ve memorized them?”
“Hardly,” Twist laughed, “But remember, I did read Wizard Saltspray’s journal and some of the things she wrote, led me to investigate others. One of Saltspray’s classmates was Blizzard’s nephew, or grand-nephew maybe, a younger relative in any case, and I got curious about Blizzard’s role as a mage. But seriously, Spin, didn’t you ever encounter her in a world history class? She was fairly influential in her day.”
“I never had world history after high school,” Spin admitted as the plane touched down and bounce briefly off the runway surface, “and we never got past the Treaty of Carlifa before the school year ended.” The plane touched down again and the engines roared as the vehicle slowed down.
“You missed out of quite a bit,” Twist commented. “Nothing in college?”
“I went to a trade school and came out with a business degree,” Spin reminded her. “I had two semesters of macroeconomics, though. Want to hear about that?”
“No thanks,” Twist laughed. The plane taxied off the runway and started toward the airport terminal gates.
“Just as well,” Spin chuckled. “I don’t remember any of it. I memorized it just long enough to pass the classes then forgot it almost as quickly.”
“What a waste,” Twist told him. “If you’re going to learn something the least you can do is remember it.”
“Until I ran into you I was not a very inspired student, dear,” Spin remarked. “School was just something to do between parties and those parties nearly ruined me.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Twist shook her head. The plane took a final turn toward its assigned gate.
“Just as well you didn’t meet me six months earlier then,” Spin told her. “I was a wreck. I woke up one morning and couldn’t remember the night before. That scared me silly. No, I think that scared the silly and stupid out of me. I pulled myself together and did my best to make it up to Dad, so he gave me a chance to prove myself. I did well enough and soon found myself in charge of overseeing the demolition of our old warehouse.”
“That’s where you found Maiyim Bourne,” Twist added. “You’ve told me this before, but you rarely mention what you were like before that.” The plane came to a halt and a jet bridge rolled out from the gate to nest against the plane’s hatchway.
“I’m not proud of how I was, Twist,” Spin admitted. “And you saw a bit of that while we were sailing around Randona when I got drunk that night.”
“Only that once. You were not that drunk and you’ve been drinking even less than I do ever since,” Twist pointed out.
“Well, the last time I really had too much was a few weeks before we met,” Spin told her. “Rob and Janno were still with Alarn and me. I backslid a bit. After I left those two boscos behind on Mek, I straightened back up again.”
“We are now at the gate,” the voice of a woman announced. “Please remember to remove anything stored in the overhead compartments and thank you for flying Emmine Air.”
Twist and Spin grabbed their smaller bags and then waited patiently for the other passengers to begin filing out of the jet and into the concourse. They had a long walk down to the baggage claim area. However, just as they passed through the concourse security checkpoint, Spin caught sight of a woman holding up a sign with their names on it.
“I think we were expected,” he told Twist, pointing at the woman with the sign. She was wearing a woman’s gray business suit with a black blouse. The only concession to color was a pin on her lapel with the green and gold of Emmine’s flag.
“I’m Margat Thenoday,” the woman introduced herself. “His Excellency, Ambassador Hinnes sent me to meet you.”
“Kind of him,” Twist replied. “We had to check some of our luggage, though.”
“Of course,” Margat nodded, leading them toward the baggage claim area. “Did you have a pleasant flight?”
“Passable, thank you,” Spin told her. “I was wondering about the volcano in the harbor.”
“New Island?” Margat confirmed. “It’s not quite in the harbor. Several miles off the coast, in fact, although from the air it might have looked closer. Was it erupting?”
“Just a bit of steam,” Spin replied.
“Well, there’s been an upswing of seismic activity lately,” Margat replied. “The volcanologists have been predicting a moderate eruption for weeks. Of course, they did the same thing two years ago and nothing happened, so who knows, right?”
“Oh, we had to leave directly from the festival in Castilon,” Twist told her. “Our clothes are dirty and inappropriate for a visit to His Granomish Majesty’s court.”
“The embassy has a laundry room,” Margat replied, “and I will personally take you both shopping first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Why not this evening?” Twist asked.
“Local holiday,” Margat replied. “Only the restaurants are open today.”
“Well, that’s not all bad,” Twist decided. “It will give us some time to clean our clothes.”
“Don’t be silly!” Margat told her. “We have staff to do that.”
“Staff!” Twist exclaimed. “I still don’t have a staff.”
“We haven’t needed one so far,” Spin pointed out. “Outside of morning exercises, we’ve done almost no magic, in fact, but here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the golden pen and quickly willed it to grow into a six foot long metal staff.
Twist started to reach for it, but pulled her hand back. “I’m being silly, I know. If I need a staff, any wooden pole will do. It just that after our trip to Methis’ Forge I said I’d never go anywhere without my staff and yet, here I am.”
“It would have been hard to get one on the plane,” Spin pointed out. “Tell you what, we’ll get one for you in Querna when we get there.”
“Thanks,” Twist agreed. “I don’t know why I feel this way.”
“It’s your first trip in years without it,” Spin replied sympathetically, “but who would have thought we might need it this time?”
“I’m not taking a chance like that ever again,” Twist told him. “What if I had needed it while you were elsewhere?”
“What would you have done before your Dad gave it to you?” Spin asked pointedly.
“I never used a staff outside of class,” Twist admitted. “Most mages never do, you know. Most of us never have to, but you have to admit it’s come in handy when on a job and, I don’t know if there’s any real basis in this, but I feel an affinity with that staff that I do not with any substitute, including the golden staff.”
“Something about the grain of the wood perhaps,” Spin suggested, “or the way energy flows through it? Since I’ve started using your Dad’s golden staff I notice a difference. In any wooden staff there is a sort of resistance to energy flow. It’s very subtle and I might never have noticed, except there is no such resistance in the golden staff.”
“Maybe that’s it,” Twist admitted, “Or maybe it’s just knowing it used to belong to Oceanvine.”
“Here’s your bag,” Spin noted as it came floating down a ramp. “And, no, you loved that staff from the first.”
It was another few minutes before Spin’s luggage appeared, but once it had, they loaded the bags into an embassy floater and flew back into town. By chance, Spin was looking in the right direction when a flash of orange light caught his eye from the direction of the harbor. “What’s that?” he wondered out loud.
Margat turned to see what he was looking at and replied, “New Island. I guess the volcanologists got it right this time. Looks like a big eruption too. If I’m right, you might be here a bit longer than you planned.”
Margat’s prediction came true and an hour later Blizzard International Aerospaceport was officially closed to all traffic. “Volcanic ash,” she explained to Spin and Twist then next morning. “It gets sucked up into the engines and can absolutely wreck a plane. It does a number on visibility as well. And the wind is taking the plumes almost directly at the port. Fortunately for us that’s to the south of the city so the air is mostly clear here.”
“But we have to get to Querna,” Spin protested. “Is there another way?”
“Swim perhaps?” Margat suggested. “Oh, you could probably find a ship headed that way, any cargo ship will generally have a few cabins they will rent out to passengers, but unless this is an unusually long eruption it will be faster to wait for the next flight.”
“Too bad there wasn’t a direct flight from Castelon,” Twist remarked.
“From Castelon, you’re lucky you didn’t have to fly back to Randona,” Margat laughed. “Do they even have flights from there to anywhere in Granom?”
“Only once a week,” Spin replied, “and we were bundled off on the first flight out of town. We’re lucky it wasn’t to somewhere in Bellinen.”
“Well, you’re here now,” Margat pointed out. “At least the ash hasn’t been falling directly on the city. You still have some shopping to do and if the airport stays closed you can do some sight-seeing. There are several really interesting museums or you could take a walking tour through the historical district. Just keep an eye on the sky.”
“Why’s that?” Twist asked. “Are we expecting rain?”
“If we were expecting rain there might be a better chance of the port being opened, depending on the winds and the current state of the eruption,” Margat told her. “No, keep an eye out for a volcanic plume. If the wind shifts around it could start raining rocks. Small pebbles mixed into the fine ash, mostly, but you don’t want to be out in that. I’ll get us some ash masks just in case before I take you shopping, in fact.”
The ash masks turned out to be nothing more than disposable dust masks of the sorts used in any wood or machine shop. Margat explained, “We probably won’t need these and most shop keepers have a supply for those who get caught out without them, but this way we’re covered.”
Margat apparently knew what she was doing and both Spin and Twist had appropriate clothing for the royal court by lunchtime. After that they decided to take her advice and play tourist while they could.
They started out toward the Rjalkatyp Museum of History, but along the way found the starting point of a walking tour, so decided to join that instead. Their guide, a young Granomish woman, told them, “This is where the city’s main police station was three hundred years ago and it was from here that Silverwind the Great and his companions led the fight against the demon, Arithan.”
“Demon?” one of the other tourists asked skeptically. “Oh come on!” Spin privately admitted that he was skeptical as well, but was too polite to question that openly. He knew from his training with Methis and Aritos that the demons were real, but he also knew they were trapped on their islands. He suddenly realized that he didn’t know how they had been trapped or when. Aritos, he knew did not like to talk about that and both he and Twist had respected that.
“I assure you, sir,” their guide told the skeptic, “that here on the Isle of Fire we take our history quite seriously and have been scrupulous to keep it accurate as well. Three hundred years ago Silverwind the Great fought and defeated Demon Arithan in Rjalkatyp, not once, but twice, although this tour covers the sites relevant to their second encounter.”
The tourist did not look convinced and it was obvious the guide was used to that reaction. She had obviously encountered it repeatedly. Who in this modern world really believed in demons anyway? They appeared in some histories, but modern historians insisted that they must have been the imaginings of the people at the time or that perhaps rogue mages had claimed to be demons in order to terrorize their victims. Then again, there were stories that said Silverwind had defeated the last of the demons and banished them from the mortal world. Spin made a mental note to ask Methis about the demons and their historical appearances if any.
They were guided in an ever-widening spiral from their starting point with their guide discussing what happened along the way, admitting that there are gaps in the record and much of what they know came from a wide variety of witnesses. “There were not many on the streets that night,” she told them, “and I think anyone with an ounce of sense was looking for the safest place they could find.”
They finally arrived at a wide field with a statue in the middle. The tourists all instantly recognized it as one on which the popular team sport, Eight Base would be played on, although one of the tourists remarked, “Must be difficult getting up a game with that statue on the pitcher’s station.”
“No one plays the game here anymore, sir,” their guide informed them. “The bases have been placed here to simulate what the field was like the night Demon Arithan was driven from the island.”
“And that’s Silverwind on the statue?” someone asked.
“Along with his wife Oceanvine the Elder,” the guide told them, “and his apprentice, who later grew up to be the Wizard Candle.”
Islandtwist looked at the statues carefully. “It doesn’t look that old,” she remarked more to herself than anyone else.
“This statue is just under twenty years of age,” the guide confirmed, “and it is the third copy to stand here. All were cast from the original mold which is kept at the Komasu Bell Foundry, just outside the New Forest.”
“The likenesses of Silverwind and Oceanvine look just like their portraits in Olen Manor,” Twist noted.
“I am assured,” the guide responded, “that the artist who created the original statue was most exacting in keeping their likenesses accurate.”
“Really?” Twist murmured. “It shows, although I’ve never seen such a young representation of Wizard Candle, but if Oceanvine and Silverwind are accurate, his likeness must be as well.”
The guide looked at her notes and realized she had allowed herself to get distracted. “This is where Silverwind the Great met Arithan the demon that night,” she told her tour. “As the statue implies, Oceanvine and Candle were with him and, according to the Autobiography of Madame Blizzard, she was also present in her capacity as a forensic mage with her immediate superior, Master Ironblade. Madame Blizzard, was a journeywoman mage at the time but she served on the committee that drafted the Isle of Fire’s Constitution which still stands as the law of this land today. She also served as President several times over the course of her life and was arguably the best leader in the history of our country.”
“Why isn’t she and this Ironblade part of this statue too?” one of the tourists asked.
“According to Blizzard herself, she and Ironblade were not instrumental to the defeat of Arithan,” the guide responded.
“Maybe she was being modest?” Spinnaker suggested.
“Always a possibility, I suppose, the guide admitted, “but I’ve read her book and she seemed proud enough of her other accomplishments, especially those directly after what happened on this field. I don’t think she would have been played down her part here had there been more to it.”
“Is her autobiography still in print?” Twist asked interestedly.
“It can be downloaded from NetMaiyim,” the guide informed her, “but most bookstores on the island have copies. It’s a required historical text in our high schools. Are you interested in the history of our nation, ma’am?”
“I have a lot of interests,” Twist chuckled, “but I’m more interested in Madame Blizzard’s status as a mage and her association with my ancestors up on that pedestal.”
“Your ancestors?” the woman asked. “Silverwind, Oceanvine…”
“and Candle,” Twist finished for her with a smile, “and other members of my family knew Blizzard’s grandson, Wizard Balance.”
“Wizard Balance?” the woman echoed. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t really place it.”
“Why should you. I don’t believe he features in any of the history books outside the technological field,” Twist replied.
“I should remember him, though,” the woman replied. “If he was Madame Blizzard’s grandson, then he is my great great-whatever grandfather. My name is Misana Nasperov, by the way.”
“Interesting that you should have a Merintan name, Misana” Twist replied and introduced herself and Spin.
“Is it Merintan?” Misana asked. “It’s been in my family forever.”
“Or since Misana Tintawao was a classmate of our respective ancestors,” Twist replied. “We met one of her descendants a few years ago in Bellinen, um, Merinta actually. I only know about both of them as they are mentioned extensively in Wizard Saltspray’s private journal.”
“I think I’d like to read about her,” Misana admitted.
“I have the only copy,” Twist admitted, “but if you have time for a cup of coffee, I can tell you what I know.”
Misana looked over her shoulder toward a clock tower. “I have time. Come on. I know just the place.”
“Wow!” Misana breathed an hour later. “I feel like we’re long-lost cousins or something.”
“No, just the descendants of friends,” Twist replied. “But I do know how you feel. In a way, just by meeting we’ve reestablished a connection that was broken two centuries ago. There ought to be some sort of relationship. So is this what you do for a living most of the time? Conduct tours of the city?”
“It helps to pay for college,” Misana admitted. “I just started this semester and scholarships only go so far.”
“What are you studying? Twist asked.
“I haven’t declared a major yet,” Misana admitted. “University here won’t let me until sophomore year, but I’m hoping to major in Magic Studies, if I can pass the entry exams to that department.”
“The Magic department has its own entry exams?” Spin asked.
“For undergraduates, yes,” Misana replied. “It makes a certain amount of sense. You need to be able to prove you have sufficient talent, you know.”
Spin reached into his pocket and pulled out the hex nut he had found on board Maiyim Bourne, years earlier. “There you go,” he both encouraged and challenged her. “Show us something.”
“With a nut?” she asked, laughing nervously. “What do I do with this? Put a desk together?”
“Levitate it,” Twist suggested. As an example she opened the silver locket she kept on a chain around her neck and sent her emerald into orbit about her head. “Like that.”
“Nothing to it,” Misana laughed. The nut floated upward and not only floated around her head, but did so in tight loop-de-loops twice every second.
“Nice,” Twist complimented her.
“Like I said, nothing to it,” Misana repeated. “But it takes more than this to get into the department. I also have to prove I know the theory. I’ve taken practice tests. They’re tough!”
Twist looked into her purse and a moment later pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. She scribbled a few words and numbers on it and passed the top sheet to Misana. “The Olen Institute for Advanced Magical Studies?” Misana read. “I’m apprentice class, if that. I mean I did well in magic class back in high school, but…”
“The name is misleading,” Twist smiled. “We teach at every level.”
“I doubt I could afford the plane ticket,” Misana demurred. “I’m not doing guided tours for the fun of it.”
“We have a scholarship program,” Spin cut in, “and a friend in the department here. Twist, we should look Kestrel up while we’re here.”
“Good idea,” Twist agreed. “I haven’t seen her in years. Misana, look up Master Kestrel in the Magic Department here. She’ll evaluate you for the Olen School and if you’re as good as I think you may be, recommend you for a scholarship. With a session in Olen I doubt you’ll have trouble getting into any magic department anywhere.”
“Thank you!” Misana breathed.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Twist chuckled. “You have to earn this. I’m just giving you the chance to do so.”
“She’s already called you?” Twist asked Kestrel via the video comm unit.
Kestrel pushed lock of her long black hair out of her dark-skinned face and behind a pointed ear. “She’s a real go-getter,” the Orentan mage laughed. “I must admit I was a just a little skeptical when she dropped your names. I didn’t know you were in Rjalkatyp and you two have been in the news often enough.”
“Not in the last two years,” Twist pointed out.
“Well, I decided to give her a chance,” Kestrel admitted. “I figured she deserved one for sheer nerve, but maybe now I won’t go as hard on her.”
“Don’t give her a free ride either though,” Twist warned. “I think she may have the talent, but if she doesn’t you wouldn’t be doing her any favors.”
“Oh I’ll be firm, but fair,” Kestrel promised. “We never have enough good mages. So, are you in town long?”
“We should have left this afternoon, but the port’s closed,” Twist replied.
“Lucky you,” Kestrel laughed. “New Island hasn’t acted up in decades, but you got here just in time for the big show. Well, your poor luck is my good fortune. A colleague of mine in the Geology Department tells me it’s going to be another two days at least. Let’s get together. If you meet me for lunch tomorrow I can tell you how Misana did.”
“You’re examining her so soon?” Twist asked.
“Why not?” Kestrel shrugged. “She’s available and so am I, and there’s nothing she can do to study for such a test, at least not that an extra day or two would matter. We may as well just do it. If she’s as good as you hope she can start planning for Olen and if not she can start looking for a better career choice. That’s both practical and fair, I should think, and less cruel that leading her on with dreams of magic if she can never fulfill them.”
“True enough,” Twist replied. “Where should we meet?”
Kestrel suggested a place and gave Twist directions how to get there. They chatted for another few minutes until Kestrel begged off, “Late for one of those interminably boring faculty meetings. I won’t have missed much, but the coffee will get stale. See you tomorrow!”
The next morning Twist and Spin decided to visit the Museum of History they had missed the day before. “This time I’ll call for a cab,” Spin told her. “Less chance we’ll get distracted on the way.” He activated his phone implant and even with a quick call to Information, had a taxi headed their way in a few minutes.
Taxis in Rjalkatyp were mostly large, black and looked like antique limousines with a tall roof for extra headroom. Their only concession to the modern world was that like other cars, they floated over the streets rather than riding on their wheels. Twist and Spin slid into the back seat and the car glided off. There was a plate of glass between them and the driver and Spin had to use an intercom to ask the driver, “How long until we get there?”
“Just a moment,” the driver replied with an odd laugh. A moment later Twist and Spin felt an odd buzzing sensation. Their world went gray and slowly darkened to black.
“What happened?” Twist groaned an unknowable time later. “What are we doing on a stone floor?”
“Uh?” Spin responded unintelligibly. He blinked a few times and felt his head begin to unfog. “Tech magic anesthetizer, I think. Where are we?” Then he laughed sourly.
“What’s so funny,” Twist demanded.
“Why am I asking you where we are?” Spin chuckled, sitting up.
“Good point,” Twist agreed. “I just got here too. We seem to be in a dimly lit room. Uh oh! No doors.”
“No windows or vents either,” Spin noted, “and they didn’t waste any money furnishing the place either.”
“Did someone translocate us in here?” Twist wondered.
“If so we’ll just translocate out again,” Spin remarked.
“Without knowing where we are going?” Twist pointed out. “That’s as dangerous as it gets.”
“Good point,” Spin nodded, standing up. “Let’s start by poking a hole or two in the walls. At least one ought to be the way out.”
“Unless we’re in a pit,” Twist told him.
“A brick-lined pit?” Spin asked. “What’s the point of that? Besides the ceiling is solid stone like the floor.”
“Spin,” Twist told him nervously, “we’re trapped. I can’t do anything. We must be within a null-magic field.”
Spin tried a light spell and nothing happened. “That’s odd. How are the lights working then. Oh, I see.”
“What?” Twist asked with an edge in her voice.
“The lights are old incandescents, non-magical,” Spin replied. “It still doesn’t make sense to me. We’ve been bricked in. I think someone wants us to die, why give us lights of any sort? Why not just kill us when you get right down to it?”
“It has to make sense?” Twist demanded. There was a trace of wildness in her eyes that worried Spin.
“I’d like it to,” Spin replied. “This is a fair-sized room. It will take us a long time to run out of air in here. The lighting in here isn’t good either so it’s possible it’s not as airtight as it looks. Whoever put us here, obviously has no intention of feeding us, but they knew we were mages.”
“Cut to the chase, Spin,” Twist told him tightly. “They’ve buried us alive.”
“Yeah,” Spin nodded as he approached the walls to inspect them. “Mean-spirited boscos, aren’t they?”
“You sound amazingly calm about this,” Twist accused him.
“I’m not,” Spin admitted, “but I’d rather not panic. I’m of the opinion there is a way out of any trap. The question is, can we find it before it’s too late?”
“If we had magic it would be a snap,” Twist commented, suddenly sounding a bit calmer. She considered that and decided that it must be Spin’s optimism. If he was not giving up, neither should she.
“Huh!” Spin grunted. “Whoever they were, they didn’t bother to search our pockets.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the pen-sized golden staff. Then he noticed something, “Someone stole my watch though.”
“Mine too,” Twist confirmed. “Spin, we’re in a null-magic field. Do you really think the staff will work in here?”
Spin tried a simple light spell and came up short. “It was worth a try,” he admitted. “I just thought it was unlikely anything as simple as a null-magic field could stop Aritos from doing anything.”
“He created the staff,” Twist confirmed, “but it’s not his power you’re employing when you use it. You would have to invoke his seal for that and neither of us have been granted that priviledge.”
“Has anyone done that?” Spin asked.
“Candle did,” Twist replied, “and Oceanvine the Younger had permission to use the Seal of Methis, but those were exceptional cases. That does give me an idea, though. May I have the staff?”
“Here,” Spin handed the golden pen to her. She took it and concentrated. Nothing happened until she held it to her forehead. It immediately started to grow longer. It took longer than usual, but after a minute or so it was nearly six feet long and in what they thought of as its default shape. “How did you do that?” Spin asked.
“The usual way,” Twist smiled. “It was your idea, really. We might not be using the power of a god, but this a divine artifact. You were right a mere mortal-constructed null-magic field cannot balk an enchantment cast by a god. The trouble was getting instructions to it. Also what we can do with it is limited. I still cannot cast a spell with it. Well, I can, but it’s instantly nullified. We’re pretty much limited to changing the shape and size of the staff. Even then I had to press my head to it and really concentrate hard to make it work.”
“But it can assume the form of any weapon,” Spin pointed out.
“A battering ram, perhaps?” Twist suggested.
“It would look like one,” Spin allowed, “but an effective ram requires mass. The staff is too light. Normally that’s a good thing. I’d hate to carry around a thirty pound object in my shirt pocket, but in this case, well…. Let’s think about it some more. May I have that back?” Twist handed him the staff. Spin touched it to his forehead and it slowly shrunk down to an object about 12 inches long.
“A knife?” Twist asked. “Why?”
“The mortar in this corner is darker than in the rest of the room,” Spin pointed out, “and it feels a bit moist. It’s set, but I don’t think it has completely hardened yet.”
“And that staff hasn’t so much as a scratch on it for all of its incredible age,” Twist remarked, “It’s harder than diamond and completely indestructible. Good thinking.”
Spin used the golden knife to scratch at the mortar between two of the bricks. “It’s softer than I would have expected, but this is still going to take a while,” he reported.
They took turns scratching out the mortar and finally, after the first hour the brick became loose enough to rock ever so slightly. “This is ridiculous!” Spin commented as he stopped for a moment.”
“It’s working,” Twist pointed out.
“Oh, yes, it’s working,” Spin agreed, “but we should have tried calling for help.”
“My phone is wherever my bag is,” Twist pointed out.
“Mine is implanted,” Spin reminded her. “I’ll call Maiyim and have her locate us via the GPS function.” He activated the implant but was immediately disappointed. “No signal,” he told her. “That’s odd. Comms don’t work via tech magic.”
“Stone floor and stone ceiling,” Twist pointed out. “We’re obviously deep enough underground to be cut off.”
“I wonder if that was intentional,” Spin replied, and then decided, “Of course it was. Your allergy to implanted circuitry is rare. Whoever did this, couldn’t have known.”
“It’s in my medical records,” Twist told him. “Sure it’s private and illegal to snoop through, but kidnapping and murder are worse offenses. The safer thing to do would have been to assume one or both of us had implants. Not knowing why we’re here or who’s behind it, we cannot even assume this room was built just for us. We might merely be the latest victims.”
Spin looked around the room. “Could be,” he admitted.
“Want me to take another turn with that?” Twist asked.
“Hold on,” Spin told her. He touched the knife to his forehead and it grew longer. “Ha! I was wondering if it could be a crowbar.”
“Nice!” Twist complimented him. “I would have argued against it. When we get a chance we should find out what other tool shapes it can assume.”
“Or just ask Artifice,” Spin pointed out.
“He may not answer,” Twist argued as Spin inserted the end of the crowbar into the gap between the bricks.
“If so, he probably doesn’t have to,” Spin nodded. “He did tell me that the staff performs differently for different people. It’s possible that the reason I got a crowbar is that I was thinking of it as a sort of weapon.”
“You were?” Twist asked as the first brick fell to the floor with a clunk and a clatter.
Spin started making quick work of the rest of the bricks. Once he had the first one out the crow bar pried others out easily. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was thinking of the wall as a sort of enemy though and the crowbar seemed like the way to attack it. As you say, we can look into this later. Right now I’m hungry and thirsty and not particularly comfortable in a number of other ways.”
They worked together to clear the bricks away and were soon facing a heavy, riveted steel door. “No handle,” Twist observed. She poked at a steel plate with the golden crowbar. “Why did they bother with the bricks?”
“I don’t think we’re dealing with nice people, Twist,” Spin commented. “The bricks slowed us down, they may have been there to make us give up without a fight. If we had seen the door we would have known where to go to work immediately. Let’s see if I can pry that plate up.”
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his pocket knife. It was one he had bought several years earlier while shopping on the island of Conntuc. It had two blades; one was a knife blade and the other a marlinspike fib. It was an ideal tool for someone on a sailboat, and in a nice compact bundle, allowing him something to cut or splice lines with. He had rarely used it for that purpose, but he was fond of the tool and carried it with him always. He had been forced to check it with his luggage while flying, but retrieved it as soon as he could once back on the ground.
Spin opened the knife and carefully ran the point around the edge of the metal plate where a handle should have been. About halfway down the long edge of the plate he found a very slim gap into which the edge of the knife could be forced just a fraction of an inch. “You can’t cut it off with that,” Twist pointed out.
“I know that,” Spin chuckled, “but this plate wasn’t put on very well. Whoever attached it only put rivets at the corners. If I can bend it a bit, maybe we can pry it off.” He worked at it for a few minutes. “Just a bit more…” there was a sudden soft snap. “Damn,” Spin muttered without much heat.
“Broke your knife?” Twist asked.
“Just the tip,” Spin replied.
“Should have used the staff in its knife shape,” she pointed out.
“I should have, but was still thinking of it as a crowbar. Oh well, I can have it reground.” He closed the broken blade and then opened the marlinspike fib and went back to work. It took another few minutes but as he worked the remains of the knife tip fell out and hit the floor. Finally, he got the center of the plate almost an eighth of an inch away from the rest of the door. “Now I could use that crowbar, please.” Twist handed it to him and with two good yanks, Spin broke the plate free on one side, bending the metal up enough to get at the locking mechanism inside. It took several attempts but finally the door swung open.
“Good thing it opens out,” Twist commented. “We would have had to go back to breaking out bricks.”
“And we wouldn’t have had as easy a time as we did with the others,” Spin replied. “We got all the ones that had set recently. Of course that just argues the case that the steel door would have to open outward. Now I wonder if there are any lights in here. The ones it the other room barely illuminate that one.”
They searched the perimeter of the room and found a switch, but nothing happened when they tried it. “There’s something in the middle of the room,” Twist reported.
Spinnaker made his way toward her and stubbed his toe on something large and heavy. “I think it might be our null-magic generator,” he decided. “It’s large though, probably fairly powerful. Let’s see if we can find the switch to turn it off with. Oh, here it is, I think.”
He snapped the switch off, but at first nothing happened. Then gradually some lighting panels in the ceiling began to shine dimly. “It’s not enough light to do more than see where those panels are,” Twist remarked.
“No,” Spin admitted, “but they’ll get brighter. Null-magic generators don’t turn off all at once. The field has to decay naturally, and this seems to have had a very large power source. At least that’s my guess. We should be able to cast spells soon.”
“Unless we were in the field too long,” Twist reminded him, “or it was very powerful.”
“I really need to find the little boy’s room,” Spin admitted, “but I don’t think it has been much more than four hours since we got into that taxi cab. We are at least two hours late for our lunch date with Kestrel, though.”
“That might be a good thing,” Twist decided. “Kestrel would try to call us.”
“And get routed to voice mail,” Spin concluded. “What would she do then? Leave a message is my guess.”
“Something like, ‘Sorry I missed you,’” Twist sighed. “She probably wouldn’t be too worried yet.”
“And how could she or anyone else find us?” Spin asked. In the slowly brightening light, he spotted a handbag on the floor. “And your comm is right there.”
Twist retrieved the bag and checked inside. “My wallet is still here,” she remarked, “but they stole our watches?”
“Yes, but maybe they only did it to torture us,” Spin remarked. “It’s disorienting not to know the time and I’m told that after a while it’s hard to know just how long it has been without a frame of reference. Someone wanted us to suffer.”
“That’s awful,” Twist shuddered.
“This whole set-up is,” Spin replied. “That steel door should have been enough to trap us. In a null-magic field it would have stopped anyone, especially had they searched us more thoroughly. They underestimated what we could do with a pocket knife and must have thought the golden staff really was just a pen.”
“They were sloppy,” Twist concluded.
“They also should have left us in the dark,” Spin replied. “It’s more disorienting and we probably would not have found the door, but they have a cruel streak and because they couldn’t figure a way out, they decided we couldn’t either. Those incandescent lights, though, argue these people have captured and killed mages in a null-magic field before and maybe in that same room. Well the overhead light panels are getting brighter. Nice to see there’s a way out of here. Maybe we can use magic too now.”
“I’ve been trying,” Twist admitted. “Nothing’s happening. That generator must have been really strong. I’m surprised we could do anything at all with the staff.”
“The staff resisted the null-magic field,” Spin pointed out. “It might grant the same immunity to the user although even so we needed it directly against our heads.”
“Listen!” Twist told him suddenly, pointing at the door out of this second room.
Spin shut up instantly and heard the sound of someone unlocking the far door. He got up and stood beside the door and Twist followed him. Spin concentrated and the staff changed from crowbar back to the size of a quarter staff just as the door opened. Two men stepped into the room and Spin attacked. Swinging the staff into their faces. He knocked one out, but the other ducked under Spin’s clumsy swing and came back up with a gun in his hand.
Twist reached past Spin and grabbed the man’s gun hand while Spin brought the staff down toward his head. The gunman squirmed at the last instant and Spin hit his shoulder instead. There was the sickening sound of a breaking collar bone followed by the sound of a gunshot. Another swing of the staff caused the second man to collapse.
“Let’s go,” Spin told Twist, but as they left the room, Twist turned and closed the door behind them, locked it and put the key in her handbag.
From above, they heard the sounds of people scrambling to investigate the gunshot. “No time to hesitate now,” Twist noted.
They ran down a short corridor and found several men and women running down the stairs toward them. Without thinking whether he could or not, Spin fired a telekinetic blast up the stairway. Had he been at full strength, the men and women would have been pushed all the way back up the stairs, but instead it simply knocked them down. That was enough to trip them up, however. Twist then followed up with a binding ward to hold them.
“Now what?” Twist asked as the stepped over the trapped men and women on the stairs. “Make sure this is all of them?”
“Sounds good to me,” Spin admitted.
They searched the ground floor of the building and found it empty, but before they could decide what to do next, Twist’s comm rang.
“Hello?” she answered it.
“Oh there you are!” the relieved voice of Maiyim replied. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to find you for hours.”
“Sorry, Maiyim,” Twist told her. “We were, uh, detained.” She briefly described what had happened to Maiyim’s horror.
“Well at least you’re all right,” Maiyim sighed. “What are you going to do now?”
“Call the police, I suppose,” Twist shrugged. “Let them clean all this up.”
“I’ll do that for you,” Maiyim offered, “I’m ringing their line right now.”
“You can talk to two people at once?” Twist asked.
“I thought you knew that,” Spin told her. “I’ve seen her talk to you on one part of the boat while she was talking to me.”
“I never noticed,” Twist admitted.
“All taken care of,” Maiyim eventually reported. “The police are on their way. I was able to give them the address from your coordinates.”
“Thank you, dear,” Twist told her. “I’ll call you later and give you all the details. Yes. Bye.”
“All the details?” Spin asked.
“Well, most of them,” Twist admitted. “I should call Kestrel too, just so she doesn’t worry.”
It took the police almost an hour to arrive during which time the men and women Spin had bound up in his ward woke up and started complaining loudly. So when several police vehicles did finally arrive they had to contend with two basic sets of stories; that of Spin and Twist and the other of those people who had been keeping them prisoner. The police sergeant who headed up the investigation soon decided to haul everyone down to the station house and sort the matter out there.
Once at the police station, everyone, including Twist and Spin were relieved of their personal goods and placed in a series of interrogation rooms where they made official statements as to what had been going on. Twist and Spin were left together in one room after making their statements.
“You know that door is locked, don’t you?” she asked Spin after a long silence.
“It doesn’t surprise me much,” Spin replied. “I used to watch a lot of TriVee shows like this. I imagine the mirror on that wall has people on the other side too, just watching us.”
“Well, that’s a waste of time!” Twist exclaimed. “We’re the ones who were kidnapped. Why are we under arrest?”
“We’re not,” Spin pointed out, “Well not officially yet. I figure those others told a completely different story.”
“Aren’t we allowed a phone call?” Twist asked, remembering a few Tri-Vee shows of her own.
“Probably, if we were officially under arrest,” Spin shrugged. “I think right now we’re still just ‘being held for questioning,’ and at least they fed us.”
“Stale pastry and six-hour old coffee ought to count more as torture,” Twist argued. “How long have we been in here, do you think? We never actually found our watches.”
“Two hours,” a woman in uniform told them from the doorway . “Come on. We’re letting you two go.”
“Will you need us back here to testify against the kidnappers in court?” Twist asked as they followed her toward the room where their property was being stored.
“No,” the policewoman replied sourly. “There will be no trial. The others were released an hour ago.”
“What?” Twist and Spin asked together.
“Yeah, I didn’t like it much either,” the woman admitted, “but that house belongs to Congressman Boronov and he’s big enough to have his own gravity around here. His people insisted the others were part of his staff and they filed a multi-charge complaint against the two of you; breaking and entering, trespassing, wanton destruction of the congressman’s property and so forth.”
“Then why are you letting us go?” Spin wondered.
“It turns out you have powerful friends in this town too,” she replied.
“The embassy?” Twist wondered and she checked her bag, the contents of her silver locket and several other items. Spin did the same with his belongings. “How did they even know we were here?”
“Maybe Maiyim called someone there,” Spin replied. “Come to think of it, we’re sort of officially representing Emmine on a mission to Granom. We might have claimed diplomatic immunity.”
“We might also have claimed it from the summons to Ksaveras’ court,” Twist pointed out, “but I’m glad we didn’t have to. That would be like admitting we were criminals but that we just couldn’t be touched.”
“Who are you two?” the policewoman asked suddenly. “Neither embassy came forward. It was the University.”
“Huh?” Spin reacted, but learned no more until they met Kestrel by the front desk.
“I used a different sort of magic,” Kestrel admitted as she drove them away from the police station. “Congressman Boronov might be a powerful man in this country, but the University has some clout of its own. We have some powerful backers, also in the Congress, and the poor Police Department was caught in the middle. They did the only thing they could under the circumstances and decided to drop the entire case. What I don’t understand is why Boronov’s people kidnapped you.”
“Ever hear of the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim?” Spin asked.
“Sure,” Kestrel shrugged. “Ever since that Duke’s son was attacked in Emmine…”
“Dathan of Horalia,” Twist filled in the name. “We were there. Actually we were part of the rescue party. Then we were on Midbar and foiled a scheme by two of their members there. We’ve also encountered their toadies in Sutheria, Ellisto and a few other places here and there. As a friend of ours pointed out lately. They know who we are these days. I doubt they knew we were coming to the Isle of Fire in advance. I know we didn’t, but if that Boronov fellow is with the Sons and Daughters…” she trailed off.
“Is he?” Kestrel asked.
“I don’t know,” Spin admitted. “Neither of us is an expert on them and their members, but he certainly sounds rich and powerful enough to fit into their inner circle. We should pass his name back to Freddy, though.”
“Freddy?” Kestrel asked. “Oh, yes, Earl Olen. I met him at the school a couple times. Why to him?”
“He’s been working with several others in the House of Lords,” Twist explained, “Trying to learn more about the Sons and Daughters. Most of what we know comes from conspiracy theory sites and they aren’t really a reliable source, although they do seem to be accurate enough in a few cases.”
“Well, you’re out and safe now,” Kestrel assured them.
“Although those cops suggested firmly that we should be on the next plane out of town,” Spin pointed out.
“Which is what you plan to do anyway,” Kestrel told him. “Oh, by the way, I met with Misana Nasperov this morning. What a lovely young woman! Talented too. Thanks for sending her my way. I doubt she’ll have any trouble getting into the department here. In fact I plan to see to it that she does. And I’ve already written her a letter of recommendation for the Olen Institute. If she doesn’t deserve a full scholarship, I’ve never met a student who did.”
“She’s that good?” Twist asked.
“You didn’t know?” Kestrel marveled.
“I knew she seemed bright and personable,” Twist told her, “and she could spin a hex nut around her head.”
“She was still doing that when she walked into my office,” Kestrel laughed.
“Spin?” Twist asked. “You didn’t retrieve your hex nut?”
“I don’t actually need that one,” Spin shrugged, “and she was having so much fun with it.”
“But that was one of the originals that Wizard Candle started Oceanvine and Sextant off with,” Twist protested.
“Or so we think,” Spin pointed out. “There’s no way to prove that.”
“Well, I’m meeting with Misana again in a few days to help her with her application to Olen,” Kestrel commented. “I’ll let her know she may have an historically significant hex nut, if there is such a thing. Now how about dinner? I don’t imagine you’ve had much to eat today.”
“Nothing worthy of the name food,” Twist admitted.
The airport was still not open the next morning, so, at Kestrel’s insistence, Twist and Spin agreed to take part in a seminar at the University of Rjalkatyp. On arriving, however, it turned out they were supposed to be conducting the seminar. “You could have at least warned us, Kestrel,” Twist accused her friend.
“Oh, I know you’re always ready to deliver a lecture, Twist,” Kestrel laughed, but it turned out that Spinnaker was better prepared to speak off the cuff.
“Sometimes a good imagination is the best tool you can have,” he told the assembled students and faculty. “Very early on in my career I invented a new sort of ward on the fly.” He went on to describe the kidnapping of Lord Dathan in Horalia, privately thinking that had it not been for Kestrel mentioning the subject the previous day, he may not have brought it up now.
“So,” Spin continued, “there I was, fighting to the death with a mage whose experience far outstripped mine. The house was on fire and it was getting hot. Then it occurred to me that if a projectile ward can have speed and energy and momentum, why could it not also have heat?
“Subsequent study has shown that unless you think about it a ward tends to be created at the ambient temperature of one’s environment,” Spin continued, “so that might explain why no one had previously thought of creating a hot ward before, or if they had, they failed to share the knowledge. Now my first hot wards came about out of desperation. I was out of my league and I knew it. Islandtwist was busy fighting another mage and the house was rapidly turning into a giant torch. So what good is a hot ward? Most of us, thankfully, will probably never have to use magic in battle, so what else can you do with it aside from surprise an opponent?
“Well,” Spin continued, “a hot ward has a major advantage over a conventional heat spell. If I were to use a heat spell to, say, warm up my cup of coffee, the coffee will get warm and then it will start to get cold again the moment I stop concentrating on it. A hot ward can be set and then left and so long as its energy is not expended it will maintain the same heat until dispelled. That would probably not be a good thing for the coffee, but if you have something that must be maintained at a constant temperature, the ward is a great way to do that. You could cook with it and, yes, I have licensed the process out to a tech magic company in Randona. They’re planning to make camp stoves with it first because they already have a line and they’ll replace them with these, but they’ll also be building incubators, sanitizers and so forth. Of course as mages, you don’t need to buy one of their devices, you can just cast the spell for yourselves.”
“Can you also use a ward to maintain a temperature below the ambient?” a student asked.
“Of course,” Spin nodded. “Refrigerators would not need insulation if they worked by ward technology. For some reason I have not been able to sell that idea yet, but it would reduce manufacturing costs. The amazing thing to me is that so far as I can tell no one seems to have thought of using a ward to maintain the ambient temperature when cast. You could maintain daytime temperatures in an area around the clock that way.”
“We don’t normally cast long-lasting wards for more than a few hours,” one of the teachers standing near Kestrel pointed out.
“Yes,” Spin agreed, “That could be why temperature maintenance by ward has been overlooked. On the other hand it may have been invented hundreds of time over history but was kept secret. We seem to have some room in here for a lab session. How would some of you students like to try this for yourselves?”
“I think most of the faculty wants to try it for themselves too,” Kestrel whispered to Twist. “I like the way he lectures. It’s so natural sounding, like he’s talking to just one person and you get the feeling it’s you. I wonder if I can figure out how to do that.”
“It’s his own style,” Twist nodded. “I’ve never been able to duplicate it. I think it might be because he started learning magic so late though. The ones like you and me who have been casting spells since we could concentrate on something for more than a few seconds at a time, we’ve become somewhat blasé about magic. We treat it like the science it is and we take it very, very seriously. Spin can still find an almost boyish delight in even the most boring daily exercises. He still feels the miracle in magic that we’ve come to take for granted and he’s able to convey that ‘Hey, look what I can do’ feeling when he lectures.”
“He ought to do this sort of thing on Tri-Vee,” Kestrel commented. “Remember that old kids’ magic show, Mister Wizard?”
“Yeah,” Twist sighed and then chuckled wickedly. “Mom hated it when I watched that show. It gave me dangerous ideas, so I had to sneak into the earl’s manor and watch it with Freddy. He was never much interested in magic, really, but he loved watching Moonsong get upset, especially when Dad sided with me.”
“It’s hard to imagine you as getting in trouble that way,” Kestrel laughed.
“Not for me,” Twist shot back. “The thing is, I was clever enough to do the stuff Mister Wizard did not explain and I took the advice ‘Don’t try this without adult supervision, kiddies,’ not as a warning but as a challenge. I think what bothered Mom the most was that I was able to do those things. None of them were very hard, but you know what normally happens when young mages start playing with fire at too young an age.”
“Well, you seem to have survived without any visible scars,” Kestrel noted.
“That’s what bothered Mom, I think,” Twist laughed. “She didn’t want me to actually be hurt, but a minor burn would have allowed her to say that she’d warned me and yet I never hurt myself; not with magic anyway.”
It took Kestrel a few seconds to realize to whom Twist was referring. “I never knew what you saw in Goldore anyway,” she told her friend.
“Darrick could be nice,” Twist defended her one-time fiancé. “When I wasn’t doing something better than he ever could. I didn’t understand that magic was so competitive for him until too late.”
“And you would never have held yourself back just to salve his ego,” Kestrel remarked “The rest of us knew that even if you were blind to it. Um, does Spin know him?”
“He knows of Goldore,” Twist replied, “but they’ve never met. Darrick was teaching at Merinne while Spin was taking classes at Randona.”
“Just as well,” Kestrel decided. “Goldore would have gone out of his way to be nasty. He’s not really a nice guy, you know.”
“I think Goldore would have had the really nasty surprise,” Twist shook her head. “I haven’t told him much about Darrick, but Dad has and so has Uncle Cirrus. Spin figures he owes Goldore a poke or two in the face. Even as an apprentice, Spin would have turned Darrick inside out, I think. At least by the time he took his equivalency exams he could have. Now, well, unless Goldore is amazingly better than I give him credit for….”
“Goldore is a Master, same as you,” Kestrel pointed out.
“He has the book learning, but so does Spin now,” Twist retorted.
“Goldore was here a few months ago,” Kestrel reported. “He was bragging to me how he knows all these really powerful Orentan military spells now.”
“And if he tried using them,” Twist told her, “that would get him Arithan’s Curse. I know enough about them from Uncle Cirrus to understand that Darrick could easily kill himself as anyone else with them and Spin… Well, Spin and I have had some fairly special training the last few years. If Spin and I seem more self-assured than we used to, there’s a reason for it.”
“I don’t notice any difference in you, dear,” Kestrel remarked, “and I’ve only known Spin since your wedding day.”
“Well I feel more sure of myself these days,” Islandtwist replied.
“Scary!” Kestrel teased her. They both laughed.
An hour later both Spin’s and Twist’s Comm units rang. Spin answered his and noticed Twist doing the same across the hall. “Is this Master Spinnaker?” a woman’s voice asked politely.
“It is, yes,” Spin replied.
“This is Joanette from Air Quirnlia at Blizzard International Aerospaceport,” she introduced herself. Spin marveled she could get all that out in a single breath. “The port is reopening in one hour and your rescheduled flight is queued to leave just under an hour after that.”
“So soon?” Spin blurted.
“I am sorry if that is an inconvenience,” Joanette replied, not sounding sorry at all. “Will you be able to make the flight or should we reschedule you?”
Spin glanced across the room and saw Twist nodding and replied, “No, I think we can make it in time.”
“Very good sir, and thank you for flying with Air Quirnlia,” she signed off. Spin heard the click of a disconnect before he could respond.
He met Twist in the middle of the room, “We have to run,” she told him.
“No kidding,” Spin replied. “We have to get back to the embassy, grab our bags and get to the plane in under two hours.”
“They called you too?” Twist asked as they started toward the door.
“I guess they figured two tickets two calls,” Spin shrugged.
“Huh? Oh you heard from the airport?” Twist asked. “My call was from Margat. She’s already got someone packing our bags and she’ll be here in an embassy car in a few minutes. She says some of my stuff may end up in your bag or vice versa, but we won’t leave anything behind if she can help it.”
“Going somewhere?” Kestrel asked, meeting them halfway to the door.
“The port’s open again,” Twist explained, “an our flight is, uh…”
“In less than two hours,” Spin filled in. “Actually by now it’s probably an hour and three quarters.”
“Cutting it a little fine, aren’t you?” Kestrel observed.
“Not our fault,” Spin remarked. “We just got the call. I don’t think we have time to say good bye to everyone in the hall, Kestrel. Do us a favor and as soon as we leave thank everyone for having us today. It was fun and we enjoyed it. I wish we could have stayed for dinner.”
“It was great seeing you two again,” Kestrel replied, “But I’ll see you in Olen for the winter session. That’s summer here, of course. I think that’s your car that just coasted up.”
They looked out the wide glass doors and saw a long black vehicle, floating a few inches about the ground. It had little green and gold flags flying from the side mirrors, confirming Kestrel’s guess. Twist hugged her briefly and then pushed Spin out the door before he could do the same.
“Nice car,” Spin commented admiringly as they got in the back.
“It’s the ambassador’s own,” Margat admitted and the vehicle rose up and up, “and it’s a floater, not a hopper or a conventional car, so we don’t have to follow the roads. That should save us a quarter of an hour at least.”
“Probably more,” the driver added from the front seat. “With the port opening, the roads will be clogged with everyone trying to get there.”
Looking out the windows, they saw the driver knew what he had been talking about. The roads were not really clogged – traffic was moving – but it was not moving as rapidly as they were. Soon they were settling in for a landing on a specially marked pad for floaters.
“Thanks for the ride,” Spin told both Margat and the driver and please thank the ambassador for the use of his limo. I think we would have missed our flight had we tried using a taxi.”
“You haven’t made it yet,” Margat told him, getting out of the car with them. “His Excellency told me I was to wait until you were actually on the plane and in the air before returning. I may as well help with your bags too.”
Margat had another trick up her sleeve as well when they got to the security check point, “Emmine ambassadorial business,” she told the customs officer, flashing her credentials. “These two are to be included in the diplomatic pouch. Just pass them through.”
The men and women working security all turned toward their supervisor, who nodded. “I’ve seen Miss Thenoday here before,” he remarked dryly. “Have a nice trip, sir, ma’am.”
“Wow,” Spin commented, impressed. “They’re not usually that willing to wave anyone through.”
“Members of the ambassadorial legation are treated differently,” Margat remarked as they hurried along. We do the same for their people at home.”
She worked her magic once more when they got to the Custom’s counter and that nearly backfired on them.
“They weren’t stamped in as embassy staff,” the officer noted, looking at the passport’s carefully.
“An oversight,” Margat told him smoothly. “No harm done so we won’t make an issue of it.”
The officer paused and attempted to stare Margat down, but he blinked first. “Yes, ma’am,” he finally replied, stamping Twist’s passport. “Thank you.”
“Final boarding call for Air Quirnlia flight number 561,” they heard over the public address system. Final boarding at Gate 53.”
“We’re still cutting it too fine,” Spin noted as they started to run. “That’s still twenty gates away.”
“We’ll make it,” Margat promised him, huffing and puffing a bit, “if I have to drag that flight back to the gate.”
People stared as they charged down the concourse and several smiled knowingly. Spin and Twist were not the only ones that day who had been caught on short notice when the port had reopened. The long aisle ending in a wide round cul-de-sac with several gates along the circular passage. The gate was somewhere along that circle. Twist and Margat turned right, but Spin split off to the left.
Gate 53 turned out to be in the very middle of the circle and the airline representatives were just closing the doors to the jet bridge as the mages met in the middle and made the final turn toward the gate. “Hold that plane!” Margat shouted. “This is royal business!”
“The jet’s hatch is closed and we would have to re-extend the bridge,” one man in a red blazer shook his head. He was human, not Granom, so most likely he was a citizen of the Isle of Fire. Twist privately wondered if he care a whit what either king wanted.
“Then do so,” Margat told him. “It’s not all that much work and His Majesty would not thank you for detaining those he has summoned to his court.”
“Yeah, right,” the man scoffed, but he pushed a few buttons on a comm set that was built into the gate’s desk. “Two late arrivals,” he told someone on the other end.
“Good,” came the reply. “We have a lot of empty seats in that one.”
Outside the jet was just starting to move away from the gate but before if that moved too far, its engines revved a little and it slipped back in place. The bridge was reopened and a few minutes later the two mages were allowed to board with all their bags as carry-on luggage.
“Are they really on royal business?” the airline agent asked Margat as the plane started off again.
“They really are,” Margat nodded.
“Ksaveras or Othon?” he asked.
“Both.”
The flight attendant, a Granomish woman in a red uniform, who showed them to their seats took the incident in stride. “I half expect to be called back twice more,” she admitted. “Really, it’s a wonder anyone got on board in time. The few who did must have been sleeping in the port. Quite a few did. Heh, an hour and a half ago I was just taking a shower.”
“And we were already scrambling to get here,” Spin admitted. “We were in the city.”
“No reason you shouldn’t have been,” the attendant told him. “They really should have given more advance notice that the port would be opening. Look at this,” she gestured to the cabin. “You’re the only ones in First Class and there are only twenty or so beyond that curtain. Much less and the crew would out-number the passengers. Well, strap yourselves in. I’ll be back right after we take off.”
The rest of the flight was uneventful, allowing Twist and Spin to relax and, eventually, get a few hours of sleep before landing at Querna International just before daybreak.
“Do we just grab a taxi and show up at the palace, do you think?” Spin asked Twist as they lugged their bags through the port just outside the Granomish capital city.
“It might be a little early yet,” Twist shrugged, “maybe we should stop for breakfast first. Coffee and pastry at least, don’t you think?”
“I could bear something heavier this morning,” Spin admitted. “It’s been hours since we were fed on the plane.”
“All right then,” Twist agreed. “I’m sure there are several reasonable places to get a meal here in the port. We’ll do that first.”
“We could probably do better in town,” Spin suggested.
“And haul our bags with us everywhere?” Twist countered. “They’re much heavier than they were when we arrived in Rjalkatyp. I’m just glad my big one has wheels on it.”
“Mine does too,” Spin noted, “but it’s so over-stuffed they don’t work right. Maybe we can ship some of this stuff home before we leave?”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Twist agreed. “Oh, I think our breakfast plans have just changed.” She pointed at a Granom about their age who was dressed in a modern business suit, but with an archaic bright red and gold tabard draped over it. He was holding up a sign with their names on it.
“King Ksaveras sent a herald to pick us up?” Spin asked.
“Boris Hartov,” the man introduced himself, “Sentendir Persuivant. I believe His Royal Majesty felt it would be most appropriate if I were to escort you to the Wurra Palace.”
“Well, that’s nice of him and you,” Spin remarked. Twist wondered if he was putting on that small-town boy attitude or if it had just slipped out naturally. “But why is it appropriate? I infer from the way you said it that not just any herald would do.”
“The title Marquess of Sentendir has only even been held by humans from Emmine,” Boris replied. “Your ancestors, in fact, Master Islandtwist, although it has been centuries since then.”
“So without a lord to serve directly, what does the Sentendir Persuivant do?” Spin asked as they followed him through the airport lobby.
“Only a few heralds are attached to specific estates anymore,” Boris replied easily. “We serve as the core of the Granomish Royal Diplomatic Corps mostly, although I’m what we call a book herald. Much of my job involves the registration of heraldic devices, trademarks and that sort of thing. Ceremonial duties such as this are few and far between.”
Rather than leading them out of the aerospaceport, Boris crossed the lobby and then went back down another concourse. “Where are we going?” Twist asked.
“His Majesty has arranged for you to arrive at the Wurra in style, Master Islandtwist,” Boris replied. “He sent me here in his private helicopter.”
“I wasn’t aware anyone used helicopters anymore,” Spin admitted, “what with floaters and hoppers and such.”
“We still have uses for them neither a hopper nor a floater can meet adequately,” Boris informed him. “The large ones, such as His Majesty’s can lift far more than any mere hopper, for example, and they are more maneuverable as well. Also floaters and hoppers are not common in Granom.”
“No?” Spin asked. “Why not?”
“Conservatism of a sort, I think,” Boris chuckled. “We prefer to keep our wheels on the ground. So even though the finest flying vehicles are produced in Granom, we Granomen prefer to roll along just as we have for centuries.”
“Must make for slow going from one place to another,” Spin remarked.
“You’ve never seen a Granom drive,” Boris laughed. “Seriously it’s no slower than a standard car that must follow the travel lanes in one of your cities.”
They only walked a short way down the second concourse before Boris indicated they should turn left and step though a plain windowless door that had been painted the same beige as the rest of the port. They walked down a stairway and soon found themselves out on the tarmac beside a large red helicopter. The blades of the main rotor were already spinning and creating a fierce down draft.
Several Granomish marines ran out of the copter to help Twist and Spin with their bags. “This way, ma’am, sirs,” a sergeant guided them toward the craft. “Keep your heads down. It’s easier that way.”
Once they were in and the sergeant was certain all was secure, he shouted to the pilot, “Go!” and the craft went straight up several hundred feet, rotated one quarter of a turn clockwise and then zoomed off toward the City of Querna.
The view of the royal city was spectacular from the helicopter, but this wasn’t a sight-seeing flight and they did not have time to really look around. A commercial pilot might have circled around over the city’s parks, pointed out the University and its world-famous bell tower. Then he would have given his passengers a view of the Wurra palace although from a respectful distance. The marine who flew this particular bird wasted no time and flew a straight course directly and quickly landed on the helipad at one corner of the parking lot inside the walls of the palace. So they only had the briefest glimpse of the Palace’s pink granite walls and towers all capped with the magically constructed smokey quartz blocks that had once been the fashion on nearly all the buildings in the city.
The pilot might have been all business in the air, but once on the ground he showed a sense of humor. “Here you go, ma’am, sirs,” he told them as they started to get up from their seats. “Thank you for flying Air Wurra! For when you absolutely have to get there and price is not an object!”
“He was right about that,” Twist remarked to Spin as they got away from the prop wash. “That little flight probably cost the kingdom one hundred thousand crowns.”
“Not quite,” Boris corrected her, “but it would have had His Majesty or Her Highness been on board. We take extra precautions when they travel and, of course, they never travel alone. This way now. We’re a little late, I fear. Breakfast should have already been served.”
“No need to interrupt His Majesty,” Twist told him. “Besides, we are not suitably attired.”
Boris paused to look at Twist and Spin in their travel clothes. Twist was wearing what was often referred to as the Olen School uniform – a blouse over a modest cream colored skirt. It might have been quite conservative if not for the vivid floral design on the blouse. Spin’s clothing was even less formal. Khaki-colored slacks and a white workshirt. The combination had been perfect for the seminar they had been rushed away from, but hardly what one wears when being introduced to the king. “You’re both fine,” Boris assured them.
“Are you sure you’re a herald?” Twist asked even as they started walking briskly again, “and what about our luggage?”
“The bags will be in your suite,” Boris assured her, “Come along now. His Majesty awaits.”
His Majesty was, indeed, waiting for their arrival. King Ksaveras XVII was an elderly Granom. His skin, somewhat wrinkled, still bore the bone-white hue that was the color of health among Granomen and while he had the heavy bones typical of Granomen, he was obviously physically fit. This was a man who took the time each day to exercise and was careful of his health. Twist found herself nodding for no apparent reason and realized it was in approval.
The room he was in was monumental in proportion. Spin wondered if it was always set up for dining or whether royal balls were held in there as well. The walls were covered with colorful murals of various historical scenes, the nearest of which featured three human mages casting a variety of spells.
No one was seated at the tables, however. Instead they were standing around and chatting. His Majesty had his back to the door as it opened but he turned expectantly
“Your Royal Majesty!” Boris announced in ringing tones as they entered the large dining room, “I have the distinct honor of presenting to you, Masters Spinnaker and Islandtwist of Emmine.”
“Cousins!” Ksaveras XVII cried exuberantly. He stepped forward and even as they started to bow and curtsey, grabbed the two human mages up in his strong arms and hugged them as though in private and as if they were members of his immediate family. “So good to see you here at last.”
Twist was stunned by the reception and as the king shook Spin’s hands, grasping both of them in his own, she looked around and noticed that the members of the court looked slightly bemused by the king’s behavior, but were by no means scandalized. Then she felt Ksaveras put his arm around her shoulders even as he did likewise to Spin and guided them toward a door on the far side of the room. Members of the court parted gracefully out of the way as the monarch steered them through the crowd and just before leaving, Ksaveras turned to the court and told them, “We do hope you will forgive us for deserting you, but we find we deeply desire to renew our family ties this morning.”
Everyone in the room bowed to him respectfully as he and the two mages finally left the dining room. “We’ll dine in private,” Ksaveras told them, “or have you eaten already?”
“Not yet, Your Majesty,” Spin replied.
“In private, the family calls me Veras,” the king informed him.
“Are we family?” Twist asked. “Really?”
“Really,” Veras nodded. “Didn’t you know? Well, it has been almost two hundred years. I suppose that’s long enough to forget. Ah here is my private study. I love this room. As you can see, it overlooks the garden. My predecessors used to use the room at the top of the main tower as an office and family room, but these days that is part of the public tour.”
“Public tour?” Spin asked.
“Oh yes,” Veras replied. “There’s something my ancestors never had to put up with before the Counter Revolution. Afterward, everyone wanted to see where the final battle happened and that is right here in the palace. There was a televised tour of the place back then, Ksaveras XI and his wife Orezhda conducted it themselves. We still have copies of that in the library if you’re interested. You might be; Wizards Candle, Oceanvine and Sextant get mentioned a lot.
“That Tri-Vee… no… television show,” Veras continued, “might have sufficed to satisfy public curiosity, but there was an earl named Zakhar Arron of the House of Granova, not my direct ancestor, but her brother, decided to write a book about the Counter Revolution. It was a best seller, of course, and then everyone wanted to see where it all happened.
“Well, a lot of it happened out in the city,” he went on, “but anyone can walk around and read the plaques. Folks wanted to see where it all came to a conclusion. So eventually we opened a part of the palace to public tours at certain hours. The room at the top of the tower is where it finally ended so that’s pretty much a museum now. Can’t very well just say, “We hereby claim this historical site as our office.’”
“You could,” Spin pointed out. “I mean, you are the king after all.”
Veras sighed. “That I am, old man,” he nodded, “but that is not the sort of thing a good monarch does. And we do sometimes use the room for small receptions after the public hours, but to tell the truth the only decent view from up there is a narrow gap between buildings through which you can see a bit of the harbor. Two or three centuries ago, that tower was the tallest building in Querna, but now it is dwarfed by all the neighbors. This garden is much nicer to look at. Too bad you weren’t here while the cherries were in bloom. That’s always been my favorite time of year.
“Your suite is across the way,” Veras told them pointing out the window, “in what we call the Garden Wing of the palace. I understand your ancestors stayed there whenever they visited. But please, have a seat and let’s get comfortable.”
As though sitting down was a signal, the door to the private study opened the moment that had gotten comfortable and three women entered with a cart filled with breakfast foods. Without asking, one of them poured a cup of coffee for the king, adding a spoon of sugar and a dollop of cream. “Coffee, ma’am?” she asked, turning to Twist.
Twist turned to look at her. She was tall for a Granomish woman and thinner than average. Most Granomen had dark brown hair and brown eyes, but her long hair was light brown, almost blonde and she looked inquiringly directly into Twists eyes with her own deep green ones. “Yes, please,” Twist replied. “Cream, but no sugar if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, ma’am,” the server replied and filled the order.
“Thank you,” Twist told her, accepting the cup.
“And you, sir?” she asked Spin.
“Yes, please,” Spin responded, “But I take it black.”
“Oh my!” Twist gasped suddenly as a plate of pastry was placed on the table between them and Ksaveras. “I didn’t know these were still being made.” The pastries did not look like much, really. More like plain doughnut holes, but inside their flaky crusts, Twist knew from experience, they might be filled with any number of flavors.
“These were originally from Sahren,” Veras explained, “but the art of making them was lost for centuries until my pastry chef found an old recipe a few years ago. He’s been perfecting his technique ever since. As far as I knew he is the only one who knows how to make them. But you’ve seen them before?”
“On the Maiyim Bourne,” Twist explained. “We have a food box that contains a general cornucopia spell. It will provide any sort of food you desire. The ones on the boat are about half this size, but they look just like these.” She took a small bite and sighed. “I’m not going to lose any weight here, am I?”
The king laughed and Spin told the serving woman, “I think you can expect her down in the kitchen at all sorts of odd hours now.”
“She would hardly be the first,” the woman replied with a smile, “and, yes we all have to restrain ourselves when Chef Dornal is baking. Oh, your coffee, sir. My apologies for getting distracted.”
“No worries,” Spin shrugged, accepting the cup and saucer. “We were all distracted.”
“Keep that up and I won’t save any for you,” Twist told him.
“What flavor are they?” Spin asked.
“Strawberry,” Twist replied, licking a bit of the filling off her lips.
“And vanilla custard,” Veras added. “At least that is what he made today. It varies. So please help yourselves. We eat buffet-style in this room.”
Spin took some scrambled eggs and a waffle to start with, but Twist stuck to the pastries while the three servers faded to the back of the room.
“Your... uh Veras,” Twist corrected herself quickly. “You never told me how we are related.”
“Ah,” Ksaveras smiled. “Are you aware of how my branch of the Granova Family came to the throne?”
“I understand one of the earlier lines died without issue,” Twist replied.
“True,” the king nodded. “Ksaveras XIII out lived his only son, so when he died the next in line was Earl Lyaksandr Granova.”
“I thought his birth name was Zakhar,” Twist commented.
“There is some question about that,” Veras admitted. “His full name was Zakhari Lyaksandr Nikolai and some say he was called Lyaksandr and others claim he was called Zakhar or Zak. The name Zakhar and its variants has long been a common one in my line, so it is possible both are true, depending on when. Nicknames are not so permanent as real names, after all. On ascending to the throne he took the name Ksaveras XIV with the intention of showing the world that the House of Granova still ruled in Granom regardless of which branch of the family and that he intended a smooth transition from what had been the royal line to the cadet branch. My side of the family has been naming our first sons Ksaveras ever since.”
“But how are we related?” Twist asked.
“Well, before that and even before the Counter Revolution, your ancestor, Wizard Oceanvine and Princess Ksana adopted each other as sisters,” Veras replied.
“Princess Ksana?” Twist asked. “Do you mean Countess Ksanya? She was a good friend of Oceanvine, but I never heard they had adopted one another.”
“No,” Veras shook his head. “Ksanya was the granddaughter of Ksana. I know it can get confusing with so many repeated and similar sounding names. Also, it was the elder Oceanvine who was involved, not Oceanvine the Younger who was, indeed, a contemporary of Ksanya at the time of the Counter Revolution. Ksaveras XIV, by the way was Countess Ksanya’s grandson.”
“I thought he was her son,” Twist shook her head.
“No, that would have been Lyaksandr Nikolai Feodor,” Veras laughed. “I have heard humans laughingly say that the royal line of Granom is so easy to remember because we all have the same names, but actually it can be hopelessly confusing. Even our historians get it wrong sometimes. Of course that leads us to a similar situation in my case.
“I am quite old,” Veras continued, “and my only son died several years ago along with his wife and infant son. My only surviving direct heir is my granddaughter, Ilyana.”
“And Gronomish law prohibits a reigning queen, doesn’t it?” Spin asked.
“Yes, it does,” Veras confirmed “I expect my dear Ilyana will marry the next king of Granom who will then be formally adopted into the House of Granova. I don’t suppose that much is necessary, but just as Ksaveras XIV changed his name, this would help to insure a smooth transition.
“Did you know my family refers to the crown as the Curse of Granova?” Veras asked suddenly with a grin. “It’s true, and my branch of the family certainly avoided it as long as we possibly could.” He finished his cup of coffee and one of the serving women stepped out of the shadows to refill it. After a fresh sip he got down to business. “I am sending the princess out on a goodwill tour of Granom, Methiscia and the Isle of Fire. Our main objective is to try to persuade the Isle of Fire to side with Granom and Emmine in the International Congress. However, showing the flag around Granom and demonstrating our continued close ties to our former colony Methiscia, is always good and should make the main ploy less obvious.”
“Meanwhile political pundits the world over will see right through it and describe it as a clever and subtle ploy to woo the Isle of Fire,” Spin remarked dryly.
“They will!” Veras nodded. “At least, we hope so. So long as the pundits characterize it that way we have a chance of it working. Now, I could surround Ilyana with Royal Guards, but my advisors tell me that could send the wrong message. Several wrong messages, in fact. We want her to be seen as approachable and open. Confining her within a contingent of uniformed soldiers would not accomplish that. So instead, we propose to use you two. As her cousins it will not be entirely amiss that you should accompany her on the tour and as humans of Emmine, and fairly famous ones, I might add, it will also demonstrate our close and warm ties to the Kingdom of Emmine. Islandtwist you are related to Othon, are you not?”
“Quite distantly,” Twist replied, trying to do kinship calculus in her head. “Let’s see we would be… no, sorry, I’m not sure how many generations it has been since there was an intermarriage between the royal family and Jenynges. At least three hundred years I think. The last member of my line who was even considered in line for the throne was Oceanvine the Younger since she was an earl’s daughter.”
“That would still put you in line,” Veras pointed out.
“May the all the Gods prevent us from the calamity that would put me on the throne!” Twist laughed. “I doubt there would be much of the world left by that time. And unlike my Cousin Freddy, uh… Earl Olen, I do not spend much time in His Majesty’s Court. The only time I was there was when Spin and I were elevated to the Star of Emmine. I’m sure I would make a terrible queen.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Veras admitted, “but as a master mage, very few would dare to anger you. You could flash fry them on the spot.”
“I could anyway,” Twist shrugged, “but my Dad taught me early on that wasn’t considered good manners, not to mention that if it turned out later I needed the one I’d fried, it might be a bit difficult to get them back.”
“There are kings who never figured that out,” Veras nodded. “I must admit, there have been times I wished I could do that or something like it, though. Perhaps it is just as well I am magic-null. It’s a trait that runs strong in my family. Ilyana is magic-null too.”
“Well that, by itself, protects her from many, but not all, forms of magical attack,” Spin pointed out, “but are you sure two mages, no matter how good, and there are better, more knowledgeable ones on Maiyim, are going to be sufficient protection for Her Highness?”
“You will not be her only guardians,” Veras assured him. “There will be two of Oceanvine’s Girls acting as companions and others will be discretely watching and guarding more remotely.”
“Oceanvine’s Girls?” Spin asked, but the king would not be distracted.
“This is, first and foremost, a goodwill tour,” Veras reminded them. “The Princess has to get out and actually meet people. Thirty or more guards cocooning her is going to make that very difficult.”
“These are uncertain times, Your Majesty,” Twist pointed out.
“Which is why I asked for you two, cousin.” Veras retorted. “You and Spinnaker have built up an impressive record in a fairly short time.”
“I’m most concerned about the trip to the Isle of Fire,” Spin pointed out. “We just came from there and the local police would have liked to ride us out on a rail. Will it really be a good idea to send us right back?”
Veras laughed. “Yes. One of our ministers mentioned the incident just before you arrived. You were not actually expelled from the country, you know, and there is no official ban against you returning and as Ilyana’s companions and guards you would have diplomatic immunity in any case. However, the Police Department in Rjalkatyp was caught between various political parties and the international alliance of Granom and Emmine. Shooing you away like that was really just a matter for them to walk their own political tightrope and doing their best to keep the peace. Besides, given the nature of your trouble there, sending you back like this fits our plans perfectly.”
“How so?” Spin asked.
“The House of Granova is not of the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim,” Veras explained. “We never have been and if I have anything to say about it, we never will, but they would dearly like to add the Crown of Granom to their list of posessions. We all know the reason you were persuaded to leave Rjalkatyp was because you survived an attempt on your lives by the Sons and Daughters. They make no public statements about that, of course, and neither will we, but they fool no one who is in the know about them.”
“If they wanted us dead, they should have just killed us,” Spin remarked. “We were certainly helpless enough.”
“They’re an arrogant lot,” Twist pointed out, “and a sadistic one as well. They wanted to torture us first, but I wouldn’t count on their making that mistake again.”
“Nor would I,” Veras agreed, “but sending you back as Ilyana’s guards will show our defiance of the Sons and Daughters even as it affirms our strong alliance with Royal Emmine.”
“You’re expecting to get a lot of benefits out of this, aren’t you?” Twist asked.
“A good politician multitasks whenever he or she can,” Veras shrugged. “Historically the government of the Isle of Fire has been closer to Bellinen in the International Congress. We would like to change that and the new president there has not been as warm toward the Orenta as his more recent predecessors have been. With Ilyana’s visit, we hope to make him our ally.”
“When do we meet Her Highness?” Spin asked.
Ksaveras laughed. It took him a few seconds to catch his breath, but when he did, he replied, “You already have.” He looked toward the servants at the far side of the room and beckoned to the taller, thinner one. She came forward and sat down next to Twist. “What do you think of your cousins, dear?” the king asked as the other two women left the room.
“They are impressive,” Ilyana replied. She turned to explain that to Spin and Twist. “I expected you both to treat me as a servant. Most people who come to the palace treat the servants as though they are transparent, well, except when they want something, but you two neither ignored me nor did you attempt to look through me. You looked me in the eyes when you spoke to me and you said, “Thank you,” sincerely, not just as a matter of course. I was a person to you, not a palace fixture even though for all you knew I was simply a maid.”
“Neither of us is noble,” Spin remarked. “Twist may have grown up among mages, but I was just a merchant’s son until a few years ago.”
“Commoners are more likely to have looked right through me,” Ilyana told him. “Not every guest in the palace is noble-born and commoners come here with pre-conceived notions as to how they should behave. They are polite enough, especially to nobles and royals, but they tend to overlook or snub the servants.”
“Of course the servants often act more regal than we do,” Veras pointed out.
“They understand that the crown deserves dignity,” Ilyana pointed out, “but they do not have to actually wear it.”
“I understand our Emmine royal cousins do not quite have our irreverence for the crown,” Veras told her, “but I do not blame the palace servants for their behavior. I fear we scandalize them terribly. But my real question was, do you feel comfortable placing your life in the hands of Masters Islandtwist and Spinnaker?”
“Yes,” Ilyana replied with only a moment of hesitation. “If they could see me when I was transparent, maybe they can see danger coming before it appears.”
On entering their suite in the garden wing, Twist discovered she had a long thin package awaiting her. “My staff!” she identified it with glee even before she had unwrapped the long object. Inside the package and taped to the staff she found a note from Freddy.
“Twisty,” it began, “by now you really ought to knew better than to go anywhere without this. Love, Yr cousin, Freddy.”
“Not sure if I owe him thanks for sending this,” Twist remarked, “or a punch in the arm for calling me ‘Twisty’ again. I’m really not sure I appreciate his embellishment of my staff.”
“I’m sure the pink ribbon and bow was just his way of gift wrapping it,” Spin told her and untied the ribbon for her. “You’ll never break him of the habit of calling you ‘Twisty’ though.”
“Much as I might like to,” Twist agreed.
They spent the next week in Querna. Princess Ilyana’s tour was still a few days off and that gave Spin and Twist a chance to become acquainted with the princess, her regular bodyguards and Granomen in general.
King Ksaveras had mentioned Oceanvine’s Girls, but Twist did not learn to whom he had referred until the next morning. She knew of her ancestor’s role in the Granomish Counter Revolution and how she had commanded an all-woman brigade in defense of the kingdom. That woman’s brigade had been mainly composed of the city’s prostitutes and had been dubbed “Oceanvine’s Girls.” This, however, was the first inkling she had that the brigade might still exist.
In truth, the current brigade had an only tenuous connection to the original. “We are an elite unit of the Royal Guards,” Captain Mila Garensk informed Twist and Spin that same afternoon after arrival. The two mages had been just settling into their suite of room when there was a knock on the door. Opening it they saw two white-skinned Granomish women in dark red uniforms. After a quick introduction, they sat down and began briefing Twist and Spin.
“Our primary job is to protect the female royalty of Granom,” Mila continued. “Our unit was chartered a generation after the Counter-Revolution and our original members chose the name to commemorate the women who helped save the kingdom. A few of our first members were daughters of the originals, but only a few and we have always been the most sought-after assignment for any woman in the Royal Guards. It is also the hardest posting anyone can get.
“Captain Dusya Noff and I will be traveling with you openly as the princess’ companions,” Mila went on, indicating the other Granomish woman in the room. “However, there will be others watching us covertly at all times and making the security arrangements necessary for Her Highness to travel safely.”
“Are we expecting trouble?” Spin asked.
“We always expect trouble,” Mila told him bluntly. “Our job is to expect trouble. Trust me, we are never disappointed to be wrong on that count. Now we will be travelling to Farmist, and Avetone. From there we will fly to Methiscia for visits on Fid, Missabilon and in New Querna. From there we go to Sinid to take part in the annual celebration of the treaty with Bellinen and then tour the northern islands. Finally we will fly to Rjalkatyp.”
“That’s quite an itinerary,” Twist remarked.
“It has us stretched fairly thin too,” Mila admitted. “That’s why I’m glad we have two mages in the party. You are aware, by the way, that Her Highness is a magic-null?”
“We are,” Twist nodded. “That only gives her limited protection from magical attacks, however. A mage could still drop a building on her for example.”
“I’m glad you realize that,” Mila nodded approvingly. “Given the derivation of our name, it is appropriate that Oceanvine’s Girls has extensive files on what magic can and cannot do to a magic-null. We have even had mages in our ranks from time to time. Not at the moment, however, or we might not have needed you. Now, have either of you ever been on a security detail?”
“Neither of us has a military background,” Spin admitted.
“Very few mages do,” Dusya commented.
“Historically, that has been a good thing,” Mila added. “Wars would be much worse if mages fought in them and what happened on Sinid demonstrates what can happen when you force a mage to fight anyway.”
“That does not stop tech magic from simulating almost anything we can do,” Twist pointed out.
“Tech magic can build machines,” Milla replied, “but so far, at least, machines cannot think.”
“I could argue that,” Spin interrupted. “There are examples of artificial intelligence in which a machine is capable of assessing complex situations with multiple choices of equal or near-equal potential. There are also programs that allow a person to talk to a computer in a rational and meaningful conversation.”
“I have heard the arguments, but the claims of sentience are controversial and not reliably reproducible,” Mila retorted. “And since such machines, whether you believe they can think or no, are relegated to University campuses, that limits any tech magic machine we have to deal with and allows us to conduct threat assessments on them. People are much harder to assess. All right, we have a few days to give you a bit of training. Starting tomorrow we will all behave as though we were Princess Ilyana’s personal companions. We will meet with her for breakfast, sometimes in the dining room, sometimes in her suite, depending on her mood. At least one of us will be at her side at all times.”
“Doing what?” Twist asked.
“In your cases, just do whatever you would naturally do,” Mila advised. “To tell the truth most of this is so Dusya and I can get to know you two. We want to know how you react in various situations. We also want you to note how we react. The point is to get familiar with what is normal for each other and in the princess’ vicinity. It will make spotting the abnormal somewhat easier.”
“I doubt we are likely to have an emergency in the palace that would allow you to see us in action,” Spin replied.
“That is true enough,” Mila admitted, “but we have studied your exploits to date. We are comfortable that you will not panic in a crisis.”
“You studied us?” Spin asked suspiciously. “So just whose idea was it to invite us here?”
“That was his Majesty’s idea,” Mila confirmed, “and I do not mind admitting that until we did our research, we were quite alarmed at the notion. We did not know you and your early record seemed to indicate you were more prone to blunder into situations rather than intentionally confront them. Your more recent work proves otherwise. However, you are not Granomen. That bothered us more than just a bit.”
“Prejudice?” Spin suggested.
“Lack of familiarity,” Mila corrected him. “Humans and Granomen have been on friendly terms throughout most of our history with the exception of the Cold War of the Twenty-fourth Century. Even then, it was a political difference between our governments. Individuals got along just fine and there was little friction between humans and the Granomish citizens of Emmine, nor between Granomen and the small human population here. It’s not like the long-term distrust between us and the Orenta. Granomen and Orenta just do not get along in the long run, it seems.”
“They seem to coexist nicely on the Isle of Fire,” Twist pointed out.
“You’re right,” Mila nodded easily. “Perhaps it is a cultural difference, then, not a matter of genetics. But you cannot deny that the relations between Granom and Bellinen have never been genuinely cordial. We don’t trust them and they don’t trust us. It’s been chillier across the Sea of Aritos since the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim got President Wonitawa elected.”
“That has not been proven,” Dusya countered. Spin noticed that she had mostly kept her mouth shut, but was obviously not afraid to speak when she felt the need.
“I’m convinced,” Mila shot back. “His rhetoric is the same as all known Sons and Daughters-backed politicians have used and his policies have followed theirs.”
“That’s subject for debate as well,” Dusya argued. “Until a few years ago we were not even sure that organization existed.”
“Okay,” Mila shook her head. “Okay. So maybe I’m allowing my own speculations to color this briefing.”
“Perhaps,” Twist admitted, “but you are not alone in your suspicions of the President of Bellinen. My cousin, the Earl of Olen, tells me Wonatawa is considered the most likely current world leader to be a member of the Sons and Daughters.”
“According to whom?” Dusya challenged her softly.
“According to the faction of the Emmine House of Lords of which Olen is a part,” Twist replied. “Yes, I know this could just be a matter of political oppositions. The Gods know both Emmine and Granom have been opposing Bellinen’s policies in the International Congress for centuries, but their research tends to agree with Mila’s conclusions on that one.”
“There, see?” Mila told Dusya as though an old argument was settled. Dusya rolled her eyes slightly, but let it pass. “But that aside,” Mila went on, “while people of Emmine and Granom seem naturally, culturally or perhaps psychologically compatible, we have some marked differences and none of us Girls have had to work with human counterparts in the last sixteen years.”
“What happened sixteen years ago?” Spinnaker asked.
“Nothing of historical significance,” Mila admitted, “but we had a human Girl in the company. She was – still is, really – a Granomish citizen from Carlifa. Sixteen years ago was when she retired as our commandant. Well, none of us have served in the Girls for over fifteen years, so there are none currently serving who have ever worked with a human. We’ve been a bit nervous about it, in fact, but as I’ve said, you two have a good track record as mages, especially in dealing with the machinations of the Sons and Daughters.”
“I can’t say our recent exploits in Rjalkatyp speak all that well for us,” Spin admitted ruefuly.
“What happened in Rjalkatyp?” Mila asked with concern. Spin and Twist explained how they had been kidnapped. “Well,” Mila decided after she had been briefed, “I cannot fault you for being off guard in that situation and I dare say you won’t fall for that trick again.”
“I am more impressed by how you managed to escape,” Dusya added with an emphatic nod. “I have met and worked with mages before. Most, I think, would have just given up when imprisoned in a null-magic field. They rely too much on magic. I sometimes wonder how some of them manage to dress themselves without it, in fact. Mila, you remember that one we met two years ago in New Querna? What was his name?”
“Master Gold something,” Mila shrugged. “Goldplate, maybe. I was not impressed. You two have already impressed me more, just sitting here.”
“Really?” Twist asked. “How?”
“You listen to us,” Mila told her. “You pay attention to what we tell you. That one only wanted to talk and to tell us what to do. Fortunately we did not have to deal with him for very long and there were no problems during that assignment.”
“He kept calling us ‘girls.’” Dusya added, “and you could tell he was not using a capital ‘G.’ We are the Girls when we call ourselves that. Others should use our full name; Oceanvine’s Girls.”
“No argument here,” Twist nodded. “Nicknames are for friends and family.”
“Oceanvine’s Girls are family,” Dusya agreed. “I think we will work together very well, Lady Islandtwist.”
“I’m not a lady,” Twist laughed.
“Excuse me,” Dusya shook her head seriously, “but in Granom you are. Anyone with a degree in magic has the right to be addressed as lord or lady. Most male mages, however, are referred to by their magical title – Master Spinnaker for example – but the women frequently use the title ‘lady.’ It is traditional.”
“We haven’t done that in Emmine in a very long time.”
“We Granomen are more conservative that way,” Mila explained. “One of those differences I mentioned. Now it is nearly time for dinner, you, of course are welcome in the royal banquet hall at all times, but might you honor us with your presence where our company dines?”
“We’d be delighted,” Twist replied even as Spin nodded his agreement.
Spin and Twist were given a crash course in security duties in the next few days. Never having acted as bodyguards, they did not know what to expect and were, at first, taken aback by the attitude of all Oceanvine’s Girls that giving their lives to save that of the princess was expected. It was a grim duty they embraced and yet they lived with joy and gusto. Twist was shocked to learn that roughly ten percent of all Oceanvine’s Girls died in the act of protecting their charges, but the Girls themselves considered that a low number and took pride in the fact that no woman of the Granom royal line had ever come to harm while under the protection of Oceanvine’s Girls.
Their dining hall was, in fact, a shrine to those who had died in the line of duty and each meal there was accompanied by toasts to the fallen and a reaffirmation of their own oaths to serve in lieu of thanking the Gods for their bounty as others might have done. “And you do this every day?” Twist asked Mila softly after they had finally settled down to their meals.
“Yes,” Mila nodded. “Twice a day, in fact, although at breakfast we toast the fallen with juice, and not als. It is a ritual, I admit, but one that binds us together and reminds us every day who we are and just what our purpose is.”
Training was not as rigorous as Spin and Twist had expected, given their first briefing, however. It meant spending time with Ilyana and either Dusya or Mila, sometimes both. Much of that time was in the Wurra palace itself, sitting in the room while the princess answered correspondence or exercising in the palace gymnasium when she did. Spin discovered that Dusya was an excellent racquetball player and made a point of playing against her even though he was a good decade out of practice. He lost every game, but by the time they were ready to begin the tour, she admitted he was starting to give her a challenge.
Ilyana was hardly restricted to the palace, however. She regularly attended a variety of charity benefits in Querna and, when in town, spent one day each week in the curatorial department of the National Historic Museum. Spin and Twist followed her everywhere studying not only her habits and those of Oceanvine’s Girls, but of the people she met along the way. At the same time, Mila, Dusya and various others guarding the princess were similarly studying Twist and Spin
“This week was as normal as it gets,” Mila told them the night before they left the city. “With a little luck the entire trip will be like that, but I think you two did fairly well.”
“We did not really do anything,” Twist pointed out.
“Exactly,” Mila nodded. “You were there, but you were almost never in the way unless moving from one spot to another and that cannot be helped. When you found places to be, they were inevitably where you would be out of anyone else’s direct path should they have to act. You seem to do it instinctively, in fact.”
“We don’t have to be in the center of the action in order to cast a spell,” Spin replied. “Staying back just seemed to make sense.”
“Well, you figured that out faster and did it better than most new recruits,” Mila admitted. “Are you sure you’re never done security duty before?”
“Never,” Twist and Spin chorused.
“That settles it,” Mila decided. “Next time we have an opening I’m going to recommend a mage for the position. All right, we’ll be leaving tomorrow morning right after breakfast. I don’t give you orders, but if I did I would tell you to spend the evening in the dining hall until Her Highness retires. Just more practice for what we will all be doing constantly in the coming weeks. Be up early in the morning. You’ll want to be up before the princess is and be in the hall when she arrives for breakfast.”
“I would have thought you would suggest we get a full night’s sleep and be well rested,” Twist remarked.
“You can sleep on the plane,” Mila replied.
Sleeping on the plane turned out to be a very short nap as the flight from Querna to Farmist took just barely over an hour in the royal jet on its short hop over the Bay of Rhosda. They left Querna without fanfare, but their arrival in Farmist was greeted with a marching band, the local politicians and a large crowd people interested in seeing Princess Ilyana close up.
Farmist was predominantly a tourist haven due to the extreme tides of the bay and the city’s proximity to the world-famous Reversing Falls. Each day the tourists could observe at least one extreme high and low tide although the greatest extremes occurred during the new phase of the moon when the difference could be as much as twenty-seven feet at Farmist and nearly fifty feet at the other end of the bay in Mith
Ilyana made a point of greeting the people face to face, much to the consternation of Mila and Dusya. Twist maintained a protective ward around the princess although she had to constantly adjust it to allow Ilyana to shake hands and hug children at the airport.
From there they got into a large hopper and traveled swiftly to the Reversing Falls themselves. The Reversing Falls were one of the natural wonders of the world of Maiyim. Along the southern side of the mouth of the Bay of Rhosda there was a thick deposit of a very hard rock, much harder than that which covered the rest of the area. It extended roughly half way across the bay’s mouth and while submerged most of the time, it was only a foot or less below the surface on an average day.
“It doesn’t really look like a waterfall does it?” Spin observed. “More like rapids, but you say they reverse direction with the tide?”
“That’s correct,” their local guide explained, “although during a lunar extreme tide they do look more like what the name suggests, a wide series of waterfalls extending partway across the bay. The new moon is not until next week, although the flow back into the bay is just starting here wait a few minutes and it will be more impressive, I assure you.”
The guide’s promise came true. The inrushing water of the ocean combined with waves soon turned the area into a spectacular display of foaming water as it surged over the submerged rocks. Frequently, a large plume was sent up into the air and came crashing back down. In all, the natural waterworks only lasted an hour and soon slowed back to what the party had observed on their arrival.
“I thought that was fascinating,” Twist remarked. “I’ve seen pictures and movies, of course, but they don’t really capture the full grandeur of it all, do they?”
“That’s why our visit was timed to be here right now,” Ilyana confided. “Too bad we could not wait for the new moon, but I’ve been here before. This was not so much for me to see the falls, but to be seen here. I understand there is a harvest festival back in town?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Mila told her. “You are to judge some of the produce.”
“Really?” Ilyana asked. “That sounds interesting. How does one judge produce? I mean what are the criteria?”
“Haven’t you been asked to judge such contests before, Your Highness?” Twist asked.
“No,” Ilyana admitted. “Generally I just walk through an exhibit and admire the fruits and vegetables.”
“Well, I can’t say for certain about this one,” Twist admitted, “but generally the judges are given a score sheet to fill out. If it is just about size, you’ll get a tape measure or a scale, but if it’s about color, perfection of shape and taste, you’ll probably see it on the score sheet. Spin and I judged a number of items at the Horalia Harvest Festival last year. The basic criteria were quality, assortment and presentation. In quality we judged the health of the items, how clean they were and whether or not they were picked at the correct ripeness. Assortment means are they uniform in size and shape, and presentation is just the way the display looks. Each fruit or vegetable has its own features to look for, but I’m sure you won’t be the only judge. You’re the celebrity. The others will have actual farming and judging experience. Talk to them, ask them what you should be looking for. No one really expects you to be an expert. The contestants are going to be thrilled just knowing that their princess saw their entries.”
“But first,” Ilyana replied as they headed back toward a group of on-lookers who were waiting patiently behind a cordon of rope with local policemen stationed every few feet along the line, “more meeting and greeting here at the falls.”
Twist caught an expression on Mila’s face and told Ilyana, “I suspect your bodyguards would appreciate it if you did not do that so often, Highness.”
“That’s their job,” Ilyana shrugged. “Mine is to meet people and show the flag.”
“But out here in the open almost anything could happen,” Twist reminded her.
“Master Islandtwist,” Ilyana replied stiffly, “I cannot meet the people of Granom from behind a wall of bullet-proof glass. Not only would I find it dissatisfying, but so would they.”
“I am sure they would understand that the safety of His Majesty’s only direct heir is paramount,” Twist argued.
“No,” Ilyana shook her head. Her long, light brown hair whipped behind her in the wind. “I am here on a goodwill tour. My grandfather told you such over-zealous security measures would alienate his subjects. Besides, there is a certain amount of risk any time I leave the Wurra palace, but if I never left I might as well stay in bed all day.”
“But there’s no need to increase the risk unduly,” Twist pointed out.
“I will be the judge of that,” Ilyana told her firmly.
“Nice try, Islandtwist,” Mila told her companionably as Ilyana busied herself with the crowd. “But I doubt our princess knows the meaning of fear.”
“When’s her birthday?” Twist asked.
“The thirtieth day of Methis,” Mila replied. “Why?”
“I intend to send her a dictionary,” Twist muttered. “Too bad she’s magic-null, though. If I could show her how hard it is to ward her she might be a little more cautious if only out of regard for her protectors.”
“That probably would not make a difference,” Mila shrugged. “You heard her. She’s doing this for the good of the kingdom. She would take any reasonable risk in that cause.”
Ilyana only spent a few minutes meeting people by the Reversing Falls before Dusya reminded her she had an appointment at the harvest festival. The ride back to Farmist was by a different route than they had followed to the Reversing Falls. The way out had been along a highway, but the return trip was via a series of smaller roads, most of which were lined with on-lookers, tourists and well-wishers. Neither Twist for Spin had time to watch their surroundings as they kept Ilyana’s car encased in a pair of impenetrable wards.
“Are you all right?” Mila whispered to Twist from the car directly behind that of the princess.
“Hmm?” Twist asked, blinking a few times. “I’m fine. Why?”
“I thought maybe you were in a trance,” Mila admitted, “but I was also worried you might be in danger.”
“No,” Twist shook he head slightly. “This is actually easier than maintaining a ward around someone while they are interacting with a crowd. I just have to make sure the velocity matches that of her vehicle, but I am concentrating extra hard to keep it as impermeable as possible.”
“Uh, isn’t it either impermeable or not?” Mila asked. “I mean that’s like someone’s leg is slightly broken or a woman is slightly pregnant. It’s a colorful turn of phrase, but either it is impermeable or not.”
“Semantically, you’re right,” Twist admitted, “but in ward technology the word has a specialized meaning. An impermeable ward is one that cannot be penetrated as opposed to one which is selectively permeable, such as one that lets only air pass through it unobstructed. However, while a ward might be set to be impermeable, it is only as strong as the energy one puts into it. If you can overpower the ward you can penetrate it. It’s sort of like smashing a glass bubble and could well snuff out the mind of the mage who cast it. Naturally I’m putting as much of my concentration into it.”
“Oh,” Mila nodded. “Sorry to have distracted you.”
“No problem. Spin has the tougher job,” Twist replied. “He’s maintaining a similar ward just outside mine. I’m just back-up for this leg of the trip. We decided to take turns. That reminds me, though. What are security arrangements like for tonight?”
“Tonight?” Mila echoed.
“After the fair closes and the Princess goes to sleep.” Twist amplified. “Are Spin and I going to be needed in shifts.”
“I was under the impression that it was possible to cast a spell that would not dry up and blow away just because the mage who cast it went to sleep,” Mila commented.
“It’s not difficult to do,” Twist admitted, “but if we do that, no one is going anywhere until we wake up.”
“I can live with that,” Mila shrugged.
“What if there’s a fire?” Twist pressed. “If we succumb to smoke inhalation before we release such a ward, the princess will be trapped along with anyone else in there with her. How do you usually guard her in a case like that?”
“Dusya and I will be with her in her suite and other details will be stationed around the hotel,” Mila replied. “Of course, we have taken over the entire floor and the one below it as well. We’ve done this before, after all and I think you might be right about wards being as much of a hindrance as a help depending on the emergency. Let’s plan to use conventional measures for now and we can reevaluate the situation when we see the hotel. Does it take long to cast a warding spell?”
“Not really,” Twist admitted.
“We don’t really have any reason to expect trouble here,” Mila considered. “Of course, that’s generally a good way to find trouble. We’ll see.”
“You’re in charge of this operation, aren’t you?” Twist asked. “I mean you haven’t actually said so, but…”
“Yes and no,” Mila replied. “My boss, the commandant, is in charge and she makes all the big calls, but either Dusya or I have the ability to revise any and all arrangements depending on the situation. She’s in charge but she is also out of sight. Dusya and I are the Girls on the scene so we have a certain autonomy. Of course if we make changes we’ll get called on to defend those changes. The hotel tonight, of example. If I feel we need more security, we’ll have it.”
The rest of the day was quiet and without surprises. The arrangements at the hotel satisfied both Mila and Dusya so Twist and Spin had the night off. They chose to spend it in the hotel, so after a light dinner they went to sleep.
The next morning brought them back to the fair where the princess was scheduled to judge pumpkins, cucumbers and squashes. The pumpkin venue was a brief walk from where the cuke and squashes were being judged and Ilyana spent the walk greeting the people as usual. That was going smoothly too until a middle aged man pushed to the front of the crowd with a bushel basket of tomatoes and presented it, “Your Highness, from my farm to your table,” he told her proudly.
Ilyana reached for the large basket reflexively, but Dusya stepped in front of her smoothly and took the basket from the farmer. “Her Highness is honored by your gift,” Dusya told the man with a smile. The man nodded and bowed to the princess clumsily. Meanwhile, Mila moved forward as well and alerted by the bodyguards’ unusual behavior, Spin encased the contents of the basket with an impermeable ward and followed Dusya as she walked away with the tomatoes.
“Such a pity,” Dusya commented to herself as she left the crowd behind.
“Why?” Spinnaker asked.
Dusya spun to face him, but then relaxed just as instantly. “It is a shame because we will have to destroy these,” she explained, “and they are probably just tomatoes, but we cannot take the chance. He should have cleared the gift through channels first.”
“I doubt he knew that,” Spin pointed out.
“No I suppose not,” Dusya admitted. They rounded a corner and several women, obviously other members of Oceanvine’s Girls rushed up.
“And there is no bomb in the basket if that’s what you are worried about,” Spin continued.
“How do you know that?” Dusya asked.
“I checked,” Spin replied. “Ward technology is very versatile. The first thing I checked for was metal. I used a selectively permeable ward for that and all it detected were the staples holding the basket together.”
“You can detect metal?” Dusya asked.
“Well, there are a lot of different metals,” Spin explained, “and I could have checked for iron or copper specifically, but actually, I was examining densities. Only the staples were dense enough to be metallic.”
“It is possible to build a bomb that would not set off a metal detector,” Dusya pointed out.
“I also checked for shapes,” Spin told her. “There’s nothing in there that is not tomato shaped. Put the basket down, though, and we can do a visual inspection.” Dusya obeyed, putting the basket on the ground. Spin waved her away and using telekinesis caused each of the tomatoes in the basket to rise out of in and hover above it like a cloud. Then one by one he put them back into the basket. “They look like tomatoes to me and pretty darned good ones at that.”
“If you had been wrong we might have been killed in the explosion,” Dusya told him.
“I had us warded,” Spin told her. “We might have been deafened for a while, but no worse, I’m sure.”
“They could still be poisoned,” Dusya argued. “Can your magic detect that?”
“I doubt any one mage is good enough to detect every possible poison,” Spin pointed out, “but there are tech magic devices that can. How do you verify the food being delivered to the palace is good?”
“First of all we know the provenance of everything coming into the palace and it is all checked,” Dusya told him.
“Then send these back to Querna and check them the same way,” Spin suggested. “I seriously doubt there is anything wrong with them and as you said, it would be a shame to destroy them.”
“Very well,” Dusya decided. She picked up the tomato basket and handed it to one of the others. “Take this to the airport and have them packed for shipment back to Querna.”
“Yes, ma’am!” they chorused as one of the women stepped forward to receive the tomatoes.
“The rest of you back to your stations,” Dusya continued and motioned to Spin they should do the same.
“What happened there?” Twist asked Spin once he and Dusya had rejoined the princess.
“I had to prove those tomatoes weren’t an assassination attempt,” Spin replied.
“That poor farmer was beside himself,” Twist told Spin. “Ilyana had to thank him repeatedly until he was convinced Dusya was just taking the tomatoes back to the plane. They could have been a bit more subtle.”
“Had that basket been a bomb in disguise, they handled it correctly,” Spin pointed out, “and they aren’t used to having mages in the security detail. They didn’t know we could do a quick verification for explosives.”
“We can?” Twist asked. “How?” Spin explained how he had used some simple, low-power wards. “Oh, of course,” she nodded. “I should have thought of that. Good thinking, dear. And yes, the palace’s scanners should handle any other potential threat.”
“To tell the truth I really wasn’t worried,” Spin admitted. “If it had been a bomb the only sure time to count on it getting it to work would have been right there and then. He could have just thrown the basket.”
“You’re assuming an assassin would be a reasonable person?” Twist countered.
“I’m assuming he would be trying his best,” Spin replied. “Letting someone else take a bomb away would have been a major blunder.”
“And did you check those tomatoes for a magical attack?” Twist pressed. “Were they cursed?”
“Oh,” Spin replied flatly, no longer looking quite so proud of himself. “No, I didn’t think to.”
“Good thing I did then,” Twist smiled. “We make a good team. What one of us forgets the other thinks of.”
There were no further incidents in Farmist and Ilyana and her party left just after the fair closed that evening.
Their next stop was the resort city of Avetone on the southern shore of Quirnlia. If Oceanvine’s Girls Dusya and Mila had seemed calm and collected while at the fair in Farmist, they proved that was a mere façade on the flight to Avetone which they spent chewing out the rest of the security detail for allowing the farmer to have actually approached the princess in public with the large basket.
“Anything could have been inside,” Mila grumbled angrily. “The man should have been spotted and searched at the very least. Dusya and I should have known he was there and for that matter if he had been spotted you could have arranged for him to present the tomatoes in a private audience.”
“We didn’t arrange the security at that site,” one of the others protested. “If there were gaps you should blame the one who told us where to be.”
“Oh, that’s going to be in my report too,” Mila snapped at her, “But we’re not just the Royal Guards, we’re Oceanvine’s Girls, and we are being paid to think. Take nothing for granted, question everything if you must, but there had better not be any repetition of what happened this morning!”
All that was done out of earshot from Ilyana who still had no idea that the tomatoes might have been a threat to her life. “Why doesn’t she know?” Twist asked Mila late that evening as the plane was making its final approach to Avetone.
“We have no desire to alarm the princess,” Mila replied. “And she was never actually threatened.”
“Doesn’t she have the right to know?” Twist argued.
“Her Highness has more important things on her mind than worrying about a non-existent threat from a rural admirer,” Mila told her firmly.
Privately, Islandtwist thought the real reason Ilyana have not been told was that the incident only came about through a failure in her own security, but she kept her mouth shut. Mila already knew that and shoving it in her face would not make either of their jobs any easier, especially when they had to do them together.
“I think we’re over-dressed,” Spinnaker remarked as they left the royal jet on landing at the port at Avetone.
“It’s a lot warmer at this end of the island,” Twist agreed, “but then we’re several hundred miles further south than we were. It will be even warmer in Methiscia. At least we have appropriate clothing in our bags, but I think we’ll need to buy something light and airy either before or shortly after heading south.”
“Didn’t you get your shopping done in Querna?” Dusya asked from behind them.
“There’s not a lot in our sizes available in the shops anywhere in Granom,” Spin chuckled.
“There might be some here,” Dusya informed them. “There is a small human population in Avetone and more of one in New Querna.”
“But will we have time to shop?” Twist asked. “I thought we had a tight schedule here.”
“Let’s see if the hotel can provide,” Spin suggested.
There was a small clothing store attached to the hotel and Twist, predictably, bought an outfit that closely resembled the unofficial uniform of the Olen Institute for Advance Magical Studies. That so-called uniform consisted of a garish, floral patterned blouse and a cream colored skirt for the women. The men had no such requirements, even by tradition, but many wore a similar outfit with cream-colored slacks. The style had been invented by the great grandmother of the school’s founder over three centuries earlier.
Over the years the cuts of the blouses and shirts had varied with the current fashions as had the skirts and slacks, but the general look of the outfits remained the same. Also all the blouses and shirts were cut from cloth with the same printed pattern. This skirt is linen,” Twist explained to Spin when he tried to figure out what was different, “so it hangs a little differently from the woolen one I bought in Rjalkatyp, and the shirt is only vaguely similar to those of the school. What did you get?”
Spin had not worn his new clothes out of the shop, but somewhat sheepishly allowed her to peak into his bag to see that he had bought a similar man’s shirt with cream-colored slacks. “All they really had were vacation clothes,” he pointed out defensively. At least this way we’ll match.”
Just then, one of the usually unseen members of Oceanvine’s Girls came running up to them. “Captain Garensk needs you in the garage,” she reported urgently.
“Do we have time to drop our bags off in the room?” Twist asked.
“No,” the woman shook her head.
“What’s going on?” Spin asked as they hurried toward the elevator, but the woman would not answer.
The hotel garage was in the basement of the build and ran down for three levels. They got off at the second level and followed the woman around the corner to find Mila and three others looking inside the luggage compartment of the car they had driven in from the airport in the night before.
“This car was inspected at the airport, wasn’t it?” Mila was demanding as the mages got close enough to hear.
“Yes, ma’am!” two of the women chorused.
“What’s wrong?” Spin asked.
“Look for yourself,” Mila gestured toward the open hatch.
Inside the compartment were several brick-sized blocks wrapped in brown paper with some sort of code stenciled on them. There was a rat’s nest of wires running between them connecting them up to each other and to another block with lights and clamp-down wire connectors. “A bomb?” Spin asked.
“If it was hooked up right,” Mila nodded.
“It wasn’t?” Twist asked.
“I wouldn’t know,” Mila admitted. “This is not my specialty, but I recognize the components. Those brown blocks are charges of Disruptite. You see this in all the Vid shows, so I suspect our bomber didn’t have a lot of imagination, and perhaps he had no idea of just how large a charge would be needed. Disruptite is an explosive putty with a low melting point but heat will not set it off. Its most common use is in construction when cutting away the side of a hill or mountain is necessary.
“An engineer,” Mila explained, “will drill blast holes in a cliff face he wants to remove and fill those holes with the liquid putty. Then he will wire it up to a detonator and set off the charge.”
“So it is electrically activated?” Spin asked.
“Not entirely,” Mila replied, “The detonator is a tech magic device. For fail-safe reasons, both an electric charge and a specific detonation spell must be present for a Disruptite charge to detonate. Each of these bricks, however would have been enough to destroy the car and take out onlookers for two dozen yards around.”
“So whoever built this didn’t know what he was doing?” Twist concluded.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Mila admitted. “Everything in this mess is connected three ways. If this had been a construction job a simple serial circuit would have been sufficient to detonate the charge. This really looks like something from the Vid or Tri-Vee. Professional jobs are rarely this complex. Had I been trying to rig this car to explode, I would have just pushed the putty into the edges of this compartment and rigged a simple circuit. It doesn’t take much and the construction detonators are cheap. They have to be; they’re disposable. The whole thing could have been hidden in here and we could have missed it. In fact, we probably would have missed it since the only reason this was found was because I was bringing one of Her Highness’ bags down here.”
“Can you disarm it?” Spin asked.
“I wouldn’t even dare to try,” Mila admitted. “The person who built this may not have known the bomb’s strength – the entire hotel would be demolished if it went off here and the surrounding buildings might as well.”
“I thought there were tech magic devices that can suppress an explosion long enough to defuse a bomb like this,” Spin remarked.
“Sure in a big city like Querna or even Farmist,” Mila replied. “Not a tourist town like Avetone.
“We have to evacuate Ilyana,” Twist pointed out.
“And tell her what?” Mila challenged.
“Your Highness,” Spin spoke in a falsetto voice. “There is a bomb in the basement. Let’s dine out this morning.”
“We can’t tell her there’s a bomb,” Mila protested.
“Yesterday you wouldn’t let her know there was a breach in security that turned out to be harmless,” Twist accused. “Today we’re dealing with a creditable threat to her life.”
“There are attempts on the lives of the Royal family several times each year,” Mila replied stiffly. “We almost always foil them without incident. Part of our protection is to also protect Her Highness’ state of mind.”
“Keeping her sweet and innocent of these threats is not a service in the long run, you know,” Twist pointed out.
“This is how we protect her,” Mila replied stiffly. There was a threat in her voice and Twist nodded.
“Very well,” Twist replied at last, “for now it’s more important that we get rid of this, but if you don’t know how to deactivate it, have you called for the local police? Do they have a bomb squad?”
“The first thing they are going to want to know is why we aren’t evacuating the entire hotel, you know,” Spinnaker added. “Your answer that you are protecting Ilyana isn’t going to fly very well when they see the size of this thing. Anyway, I’ve been studying this while you and Twist were debating. Am I right that this is not a standard detonator?”
“Well, it’s not the sort a licensed demolition contractor is able to purchase,” Mila answered.
“So, what happens if we start cutting wires?” Spin asked.
“It will blow up,” Mila explained. “That’s why there are so many wires. No matter which wire you cut first the entire device will still be connected. Most such devices are designed so that you can disarm them by cutting the right combination of wires in the right order. Cut the wrong wire and… boom. Of course, there is no law saying there has to be a way to disarm such a device, especially if it is an entirely custom job. The whole myth about knowing which colored wire to cut first is just that; a myth. It works well enough if the bomber uses standard demolition protocols, but there aren’t many that do. The whole point of a bomb like this is to try to make it impossible to defuse. Sometimes a dissident organization will send instructions to members on how to build something like this and they will follow the instructions slavishly right down to wire color, but not often.”
“If you believe the Vid shows,” Dusya added. “All terrorist’s bombs are alike as though they bought them as kits in a local store.”
“Okay,” Spin nodded, “and trying to drain the power of the spell component of the devise might do the same thing.”
“And I can detect an anti-tampering spell,” Twist told him. “An attempt to contain it in a ward might set it off as well. I’m sure I could not erect a containment ward strong enough to hold the pressure of this explosion in, for that matter.”
“I might, with the golden staff’s help,” Spin conjectured, “but I think there would be some expansion nonetheless. We could be killed anyway, crushed between the ward and the rest of the building. That won’t work. What about a stasis spell?”
“Similar problem, I think,” Twist told him. “It would set off the explosion.”
“But would keep it from happening as long as it was under stasis,” Spin argued.
“And when the spell either wore down or was released it would go off in your face,” she pointed out.
“True,” Spin agreed, reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling out the staff Wizard Amble had given to him and Twist on their wedding day. As usual it looked like a pen. “The point is not to be there when it happens, and at least if it is under stasis there’s no reason to evacuate the hotel. Besides, none of us are the experts here, but it seems to me it could be set to go off at any time. Standing around arguing about it is potentially suicidal.” As he spoke the gold pen grew in his hand until it was a full-sized staff.
“What the hell is that?” Mila asked.
“Just a mage staff,” Spin replied calmly.
“I’ve worked with mages before,” Mila argued. “None of them ever had a staff that could change size.”
“And shape,” Spin added, “and I would have been very surprised if you had. It’s a very old staff and it’s been in Twist’s family for centuries.”
“Enough chatting,” Dusya cut in impatiently. “Cast your spell already, wizard!”
“I already have,” Spin replied calmly. “But I am years away from earning my wizard’s degree.”
“Sorry, I must have been more on edge than I thought,” Dusya apologized. “The bomb is safe now?”
Spin wanted to laugh and tell her that the bomb itself was never in danger, but realized the woman would not appreciate the joke. Instead he told her, “Indeed, now we can relax and wait for the disposal squad.”
The local police showed up in force a few minutes later. Their bomb expert just whistled when he saw what was in the trunk of the car. “Well isn’t that a pretty sight,” his assistant, a woman dressed in heavy, padded armor remarked.
“You have an odd sense of beauty, Nyra,” her boss told her sourly. He reached out to move some of the wires and found them to be completely immovable. “It’s like they were made of stone,” he grumbled.
“They’re under a stasis spell,” Spin explained adding, “It seemed better than evacuating this end of the city. I can release the spell, but it would be best to cart this car off someplace we can let it explode safely first.”
“Be damned if I knew where that place is,” the bomb technician muttered. “We have a yard for normal explosives about fifty miles up the coast. We share it with this whole side of the island.” He took another look at the bomb. “Yeah, I probably couldn’t have defused this one. Would have needed about fifteen or twenty of us all crowding around the thing each ready to pull all the wires at once.”
“Would that have worked?” Spin asked.
“I doubt it. It would take a miracle to get everyone to move at the same instant. More likely we’d end up on the other side with the Gods laughing in our faces, well, what was left of them.”
“I was hoping we could just take this somewhere and let it go,” Spin commented.
“Do you have any idea of how much Disruptite this is?” the bomb expert asked.
“Enough to take the face off a cliff, I understand,” Spin replied.
“No,” Mila cut in. “One of those bricks is enough to do that. Together they measure in megatons.”
“Not quite,” Nyra corrected her, with a slight smile. “A few dozen kilotons at best, and that depends on whether there are two or three layers of the Disruptite bricks. Hard to tell from here and with it all frozen like this, we can hardly take it apart to see.”
“How stable is this stasis spell of yours?” Nyra’s boss asked Spin. “How long can we expect it to last?”
“At least a decade,” Spin shrugged. “I put quite a bit of power into the spell. To tell the truth, I’ve never done one of these spells, so I’m not really sure.”
“Theoretically it might never wear off,” Twist explained. “Stasis spells, owing to their nature, tend to maintain themselves. It’s a closed system from inside the field of effect, using that to keep everything almost motionless, but also draws in energy from the outside. There’s an atomic clock in stasis at the University in Randona that was stopped by Wizard Sextant over two hundred years ago. So far it has only ticked over a micro-second in all this time and no one has had to recast the spell. I watched Spin cast this one and it could easily last as long.”
“Stasis is not a complete stopping of all processes?” Nyra asked. “Could this still explode on us?”
“No, I suppose a more accurate name would be ‘Almost Stasis,’” Twist admitted, “but if we won’t live long enough to be able to measure the difference, I don’t know if ‘explode’ is quite the word for what would happen.”
“It was my intention to go with you to your detonation grounds to help dispose of this permanently,” Spin pointed out. “Only the bomb is in stasis, we could drive the car there.”
“Against our regulations,” the bomb expert replied. “We’ll bring in a wrecker and tow it out there. Then we can figure out how to get rid of this safely.”
“You’re really not going to tell Ilyana about this?” Twist pressed Mila as the parade began. They were to ride with the princess in the replacement limousine, but there were several floats and marching bands scheduled to go ahead of them, so Twist had pulled Mila aside once again to take up what had become their usual argument.
“What purpose would that serve?” Mila countered. “I’ve told you this before. We cannot go bothering Her Highness with every little thing that happens.”
“I would have thought an actual threat to her life was important enough to worry her about,” Twist replied caustically.
“No,” Mila shook her head. “If it is not publically announced, we protect Her Highness from that as well.”
“Princess Ilyana is not a stupid woman,” Twist fired back. “I’m fairly certain she would understand that due caution is the word of the day. That’s the point of keeping her informed. If you did that we might not have to worry about the way she insists on walking through the crowds and would remain on our side of the cordon.”
“Her Highness must be open and inviting to all the citizens of Granom,” Mila replied stubbornly. “That generates good will which is the whole aim of this trip. Success would be less likely if she becomes uncharacteristically guarded.”
“I don’t agree that this is actually protecting her,” Twist replied. “I know I would rather be aware of the danger so that I might defend myself.”
“How would you defend yourself against an assassin striking at you with a knife just out of sight?” Mila challenged her.
Suddenly Mila found herself being lifted in the air and spun around until she was upside down, but facing Twist eye-to-eye. “Like that for a start,” Twist replied calmly. “Can you move? No, of course not.” She let Mila back down gently and released the ward.
“Her Highness cannot do that,” Mila pointed out.
“That’s part of my point,” Twist explained. “She’s magic-null, but that is how I’ve been protecting Ilyana all along. However, my job would be easier if I didn’t have to worry about everyone in a full circle around her. Keep her on our side of the cordon and I only have to watch half the crowd at a time.”
“I will talk to her about that,” Mila begrudged Twist’s request, “but you have to stay silent about the car this morning.”
“All right,” Twist nodded. “Fair enough, but any more such incidents and we really need to rethink the entire security strategy and that will probably include bringing Ilyana in on our plans.”
“She is not wrong, Mila” Dusya cut in as she approached from the Princess’ car. “Also Her Highess noticed your argument. She is demanding to know what you were discussing.”
“I’ll handle that,” Twist promised. Mila wanted to know in advance what Twist would say. “The truth,” Twist replied. “Just not all of it.”
They got into the car with Ilyana who immediately asked. “What was the trouble back there, ladies?” There was a firm harshness to the question.
“No trouble,” Twist replied easily. “Mila was concerned about the nature of the way I have been protecting you. That’s her job. I just decided a demonstration would be easier to comprehend than a technical description. I’m sorry if we upset you.”
“It looked like you were arguing,” Ilyana retorted. “If you must argue, please do so in private. You know the Press is always watching.”
“Of course,” Twist nodded.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Mila replied at the same time. “I understand Master Islandtwist’s demonstration might have been misconstrued. Perhaps we can find a way to work it into the press conference this afternoon.”
“Hmm, nice idea,” Ilyana commended her. “I was watching the news last night and one of the commentators thought I was being reckless about my safety. Islandtwist, might you repeat that spell for the cameras later?”
“As you wish, Ilyana,” Twist replied. Mila and Dusya frowned slightly at Twist’s use of the princess’ unadorned name and Ilyana caught that.
“Don’t scowl so, ladies,” she told her bodyguards. “Islandtwist is my kinswoman. Besides if His Majesty has given her and Spinnaker leave to address him with familiarity, I can do no less. Now Islandtwist…”
“Twist,” Twist corrected her. “Family and friends call me Twist, unless I am in trouble.”
“Twist, then,” Ilyana nodded. “Will you be able to demonstrate that spell on me?”
“Probably not,” Twist replied after thinking about it. “I guess it depends on how far your natural null magic field extends. If it stays at skin level I could possibly pick you up by your clothing, but magic-nulls run fairly strongly in your family line. The only case in which a mage did something like that with a magic null involved our ancestors, Ksanya and Oceanvine and that was apparently a special case.”
“I never heard that,” Ilyana admitted as the car finally started moving. “Smile and wave, ladies.”
“I read it in a journal,” Twist explained. “Ksanya was one of the strongest magic-nulls ever recorded and she had some control over the power as well, but the one mage she could not entirely interfere with when she put her mind to it was Oceanvine. There has been a lot of speculation about it over the centuries in the academic journals. I think the most popular explanation was that their auras were in some way mutually compatible for Oceanvine to be able to work past the null magic effect. Of course no one has found a similar case in centuries so it is all just guess work. In any case I wouldn’t want to try such a thing for the first time in public, even if I thought I could.”
“Oh,” Ilyana sounded disappointed although she kept her face locked in a smile for the populace they were driving past. “I thought that might have been fun. Well, I suppose we could use the fact that you cannot to demonstrate why magical attacks against me would fail.”
“That would be a bad idea, Ilyana,” Twist replied. “While it is no secret that you are magic-null, your family has never actually advertised the fact either. Consequently, it is not all that widely known.”
“It’s in all those royalty-watcher magazines,” Ilyana shrugged.
“Perhaps, but not everyone reads them, no matter how it might seem to you at times,” Twist pointed out. “Your null magic talent is a strength and it serves you best when those who might attack you do not know about it. Also, it hardly makes you immune to all magical attacks. A rogue mage could kill you just as easily by dropping a building on you.
“Also, it’s not easy to protect you with a ward, you know,” Twist continued. “You can step right through any protection I erect and you have several times, so being a magic-null is as much a liability as it is a strength. So if you want to show me off, that’s fine, but let’s not emphasize what you can and cannot do. No need to give anyone ideas. Understand?”
“I suppose,” Ilyana agreed. “Don’t forget to wave to the crowds. Where is Spinnaker, by the way?”
While Twist was riding in the parade with Ilyana, Spin was riding in a tow truck on a highway headed up the coast to the northeast. “You know for a road to a bomb dump, this isn’t so smooth,” he commented to the driver, a talkative Granom named Nikolai.
“You would think so, huh?” Nikolai laughed. Nikolai was strong looking even for a Granom. With his broad shoulders and thick chalk-white arms, he looked like he could have just picked up the car they were towing and carried it on his back. Spinnaker had made a practice of working out to stay physically fit – most mages tended toward being a bit flabby – but compared to most Granomen he felt weak and child-like in stature. Nikolai made his fellow Granomen seem the same and yet when he had shaken Spin’s hand on meeting him, his grip had a practiced gentility to it. “I’ve been saying for years we should use floaters for wreckers like this. Then it wouldn’t matter if we had a few potholes along the way, but floaters aren’t too popular here in Granom.”
“Why is that?” Spin asked.
“Darned if I know,” Nikolai laughed. “We’re just a bunch of conservative trolls, maybe?” Troll was a rude thing to call a Granom, just as it was socially incorrect to call an Orent an elf, but Spin had met several of each species who had no trouble tacking the insulting labels on themselves. Most of the time he found I liked the ones who could – they had a sense of humor – although he would never have dared use those words himself. That would not have been the same. “So why did they make you ride with me instead of in one of the cruisers?”
“The bomb experts wanted me as close to the bomb as possible to keep it from going off,” Spin chuckled. “It doesn’t matter. I could be back in Emmine and the bomb wouldn’t go off until someone released the spell I put on it.”
“They are a nervous bunch, though,” Nikolai commented. “Here’s our turn-off!”
“Not even a sign to mark the turn?” Spin noted.
“No,” Nikolai responded. “That would only draw the curious out.”
“I don’t know,” Spin disagreed. “When I was a kid, I might have gone up a small unmarked road just to see where it led.”
Nikolai man-handled the truck off the highway and on to a narrow road that was only paved for the first one hundred feet and then devolved into nothing more than a path of well-packed earth. Behind them two police cars and the bomb squad’s truck followed. “You wouldn’t have gotten too far up this one,” he replied. “Wait and see.”
They snaked their way up a steep hill until they reached a small guard house. Beyond it was a steel gate set into an impressively tall fence rimmed with several lines of barbed wire. “Hi, Nik!” a guard greeted the driver. “We heard you were on the way.” He signaled to a partner who operated the gate mechanism, causing it to swing open outward.
“Hi, Matt,” Nikolai returned. “We have a big one today.”
“Have fun!” the guard told him, unimpressed.
“Ha!” Nikolai laughed. “Not me. I’m just the delivery boy.” He drove on.
“That’s high security?” Spin asked. “They didn’t ask for credentials or anything.”
“They didn’t have to,” Nikolai replied. “They know me well enough by now. Besides, no one is allowed in here without having been cleared in advance. If I just showed up one morning, they’d turn me back same as anyone else. Of course I do have my ID card handy all the time and you’ll get a visitor’s card when we get to the bunker. I have to show it sometimes when the guard is new, but I’m here once a week or more. They all get to know my face soon enough.”
They continued up and over a hill and soon found themselves looking down into a narrow, but deep valley. “The whole area is fenced in and warded down to ten feet below the surface,” Nikolai explained to Spin. “Casual visitors are not going to get past that. Frankly, if anyone does, it’s evolution at work, if you ask me, not that we have had any injuries to unofficial visitors here. The bomb experts do take injuries sometimes, in spite of having the best protective gear in the world. It’s a dangerous job and they make… well I was going to say good money, but they couldn’t pay me enough to do it and really it’s only good compared to the standard pay grade. Not worth your life, not to me at least.”
They eventually rolled up to a bunker and came to a halt. While Nikolai was releasing the car from his tow truck, the bomb expert spoke to Spinnaker. “I’m not sure how we can make this one safe. It’s bigger than any bomb I’ve had to handle and your spell has guaranteed an explosion.”
“I see a deep ditch out there,” Spin observed. “How about if we toss it in there and let it go boom?”
“Too dangerous,” the Granomish bomb technician shook his head. This bomb has a very large charge to it and that pit’s being filled with unexploded ordnance. No telling what it might do. With a bomb this large, the best way to dispose of it is to bury it in a deep, sealed shaft like they used to test nuclear devices in. That won’t work, of course.”
“Why not?” Spin asked.
“Do you have any notion how long it takes to build a shaft like that and how expensive it is? If we had an abandoned mine around here we could use that, but the nearest mine I’m aware of is a few hundred miles away and it’s still turning out rich veins of silver. It’s going to take all day and most of tomorrow, but we’ll have to dig a special trench just for this.”
“What’s the bedrock like around here?” Spin asked.
“You have an idea?” Nyra asked. Spin shrugged so she answered his question. “This whole end of the island is what the geologists refer to as a subduction zone. There’s a tectonic plate off shore that is slowly being pushed under the plate on which Quirnlia sits along with most of the islands to the northeast. That’s why the mountains inland of here are mostly volcanic.”
“So the prevailing stone around here is volcanic and plutonic?” Spin asked.
“This part of the plate is mostly sedimentary rock,” Nyra corrected him. “Sandstone, siltstone, some shale for the first few hundred yards down. Below that you might find igneous inclusions, granito-diorites, I think and some metamorphic rocks; quartzite and slate mostly. Except for some ancient plumes of volcanic ash up the coast, you won’t find volcanic rocks until you’re in the mountains.”
“Sounds good,” Spin replied pulling the golden staff out. He willed it to grow until it was a little over three feet long.
“Good for what?” Nyra’s boss asked. “And what the hell is that?”
“A very special staff,” Spin remarked. He took a deep breath and concentrated on what he wanted to do. A moment later there was a loud snap and a striped cube of stone, ten feet on a side appeared on the ground some fifteen feet in front of him. “Good,” Spin remarked. “The reason I asked was that I wanted to make sure the stone wasn’t molten down there.”
“How did you do that?” Nyra asked, amazed. She stepped closed to the block of stone to examine the block. It had many layers running through it diagonally and was mostly pale yellow with fine brown lines delineating the layers in its top third and the rest was medium gray. “It’s so smooth. Shiny, in fact. I think it’s sandstone and siltstone. Did you just create a pocket in the stone beneath us? It’s too small for the car.”
“I don’t need to destroy the car,” Spin replied. “Just the bomb. I pulled that block up from three thousand feet straight down. It’s called translocation. It used to be a secret spell, but these days it is just considered fairly advanced magic. I’ve been able to do it with confidence for two years now. Will it be safe to detonate the bomb there?”
“I should think over half a mile of rock should be sufficient to keep everyone safe,” the bomb technician replied, “but let’s do this by the book. Let’s get everyone in the bunker before you set it off.”
“Let’s me translocate the bomb first,” Spin suggested. “It will still be under stasis.” He concentrated again and suddenly the luggage compartment of the car was emptied with an accompanying whoosh of moving air, followed by the creak of the vehicle’s shock absorbers as they suddenly adjusted to no longer compensation for the weight of the bomb.
“I didn’t realize that car was so loaded down,” Nyra admitted. She peaked inside the still-open compartment and whistled. “That trunk was deeper than I thought. This is going to be a big one.”
“Too big for safety?” Spin asked, ready to retrieve the bomb.
“I’ll have to recalculate,” the senior bomb tech admitted. A few minutes later, inside the bunker he announced. “No problem, but how can you remove the stasis spell without having the bomb in sight?”
“That’s not necessary,” Spin admitted. “I am still in contact with the bomb via what we call a spell string. It’s a thin thread of magical energy that runs from me to the stasis spell.”
“Wait a moment,” Nyra held up a hand. “I took a magic theory class back in school. As I recall translocation will break a spell string.”
“It will,” Spin nodded, “but I attached the string just following the translocation of the bomb. That might have been difficult if I had not just performed the translocations, both of the bomb and that block of stone, but translocation leaves a trail, a sort of vestigial spell string that dissipates rapidly, but not rapidly enough in this case. So pretty much, I just followed the trail back down to the hole I created below to send the bomb there, then I followed it again to attach the string to the stasis spell. It’s not really that difficult.”
“Attention!” the bomb expert spoke into a loud public address system just then. “Attention. There will be a detonation in ten minutes. All hands go to safe places.”
“You certainly don’t make it seem hard,” Nyra told him. “My instructor used to have to close his eyes and go into a trance every time he did a classroom demonstration.”
“Ten minutes?” Spin asked.
“Regulations,” Nyra informed him. “We must give anyone on the site time to get into the bunker here. Ten minutes is the minimum amount of time allowed.”
“Oh,” Spin shrugged. “A lot of mages use self-hypnosis as a means by which to concentrate sufficiently to cast complex spells. We generally try to train our students not to rely on the technique, since in an emergency you cannot count on having a bit of quiet time before casting a spell. You can’t get past the journeyman stage if you cannot do the basic stuff without a trance to help you, though.”
They continued to chat as the countdown proceeded. Finally they got to the final seconds as the senior bomb technician finished the countdown, “Detonation in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…” he nodded to Spin.
Spin released the stasis spell on the bomb far below and a moment later there was a low rumble and the building shook gently as though there had been a mild tremor. “Rather anticlimactic if you ask me,” Spin remarked.
“All clear!” the senior bomb technician announced. He turned to Spin, “Actually that was fairly impressive considering how deeply you buried it. On the other hand that was probably the safest bomb disposal we’ve ever performed. Maybe we should see about hiring a mage for the squad.”
“You’ll need him to be of master rank,” Spin warned the man, “and he won’t come cheap. You may find it more economical to find someone to keep on retainer rather than as a full-time employee.”
“Good point,” he agreed. “It’s not like we have to deal with bombs like this one every day.”
Spinnaker arrived back in Avetone with the now-safe limousine just after Ilyana’s press conference. “Lucky you,” Twist told him. “Ilyana decided to dodge questions today by putting me on display. I had to demonstrate some of the ways we’ve been protecting her.”
“No mention of the bomb?” Spin asked.
“She doesn’t even know about it,” Twist pointed out.
“Really?” Spin asked. “Why not?”
“Security,” Twist remarked sourly.
“Whose? Oh never mind,” Spin shrugged. “Just another of those ways Oceanvine’s Girls protect their princess?”
“Is it protection?” Twist countered.
“Maybe,” Spin shrugged. “What experience do either of us have with protecting someone like her? Mila and Dusya may be right.”
“I hope so,” Twist shook her head and gripped her staff until her knuckles started turning white.
The main reason for the visit to Avetone, however, had not been the parade or a convenient place to insert a press conference, but to participate in the celebration of the two hundred and seventy-fifth anniversary of the first sustained, powered flight. The parade, in fact, had been part of the festivities, but their next stop would be to Avetone Beach to observe the commemoration at the museum that now stood near the site of that historic first flight.
The princess and her entourage got a private tour of the museum which featured a multitude of ancient photographs and various models of the first aeroplane and its predecessors and even one plane that had been built by the original flyers some years later that represented one of the earliest planes commercially available for sale.
That was followed by several speeches, including one by Ilyana, marking the historical significance of flight and finally there was the planned flight of an authentic model of the first flyer. To both Twist’s and Spin’s amazement, the flyer did not have wheels. Instead it had sled-like skids and had to be lauched from a steel track that had been set into the sand of the beach.. It was raining gently by the time they got around to attempting to fly the plane and everyone was getting damp in the drenching mist.
Spin noticed the pilot and his crew looking concerned and arguing about something. Then, finally, the pilot shrugged and got into place, face down on the lower of two very broad wings beside a long thin engine that sounded like a very large lawn mower. He revved up the engine and his crew got the two large propellers turning. Finally, when they were sure everything was working properly, they released the restraints that were keeping the plane in place and it started to slide down the long track, picking up speed as it did. However, as it reached the bottom of the track it became apparent that it was still not travelling fast enough to lift into the air. Instead, the vehicle landed in a sandy mudpuddle, sending up splashes of brown water.
The crew rushed to the plane and quickly determined it had not been damaged and attempted to carry it back to the top of the track for another attempt, but it was already late in the afternoon and the rain was getting harder.
“We’ll have to try again on another day,” the pilot told the waiting reporters. “No, we do not know why it didn’t work. This was our first attempt to fly the model and any number of things might have been wrong. It might just have been the rain. The water on the wings may have been too much additional weight for the engine. Or maybe we built the engine too weak. The plans for it were destroyed long ago and we only had a piece of the original head assembly to go by. We could not use the original flyer in the Royal Museum as a model. It doesn’t really have an engine, just a block of metal that looks like one. Also the original was damaged after its third flight and was reconstructed for the museum. There were undocumented modifications made to it, so this plane was our best guess as to how it all fit together. We’ll try again when the weather is better and this model will be part of the exhibit here.”
“Too bad it wouldn’t fly,” Spin remarked to Twist.
“I was looking forward to that too,” a familiar voice said from behind them. They turned to see Methis.
“Fireiron!” Twist gasped and stepped closer to hug the goddess. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s not too far from my home,” Methis shrugged, “and I was here for the very first flight. I was hoping the model would fly.”
“I was tempted to give it a bit of assistance,” Spin remarked, “but I don’t think I would have done anyone any favors. That plane is as much experimental archaeology as anything else.”
“True enough,” Methis agreed. “The builders would have learned nothing had you helped them out. I did come here for another reason,” She confessed. “We need to meet with you tonight.”
“We’re more or less on constant duty with Her Highness,” Twist demurred.
“I know, but this is important,” Methis replied. “It can wait until the princess goes to sleep. Normally, We probably would have done this while you were asleep too, but We don’t want this mistaken for a dream.”
“What do you mean?” Twist asked.
“See you later,” Methis told them and vanished.
“And nobody notices when She does that,” Spin observed. “I wonder if that’s something I can learn.”
“Why would you need to?” Twist asked.
“There have been one or two occasions I might have liked to avoid your mother, dear,” Spin admitted.
“There’s no avoiding Mom when she’s determined to find you,” Twist smiled.
“If I could vanish silently and unobserved I might have a chance though,” Spin chuckled. “I can’t though, so my only defense is to stand up to her. She still doesn’t entirely trust me you know.”
“Of course not,” Twist laughed. “You stole her daughter away on the Maiyim Bourne and I have never quite been the same since. Speaking of Maiyim, though I really should call her later too. I haven’t spoken to her since we left Castelon.”
“I know,” Spin nodded, “but we have been busy. You’re right though. We should call her.”
They agreed to give Maiyim a call directly after dinner, but following the meal Ilyana announced she was exhausted and would retire early, so rather than having a chance to make a phone call, the two mages discovered that the door to their hotel suite connected directly to the study in Methis’ home and that traveling hundreds of miles was like taking a single step.
“It’s an illusion,” Methis assured them when they asked. “I translocated you both as you shut your hotel room door, but using the illusion of this room made the transitions less startling.”
“I don’t know,” Spin remarked. “Opening the door to see this room nearly made me jump out of my skin,”
“Not half so much as having it suddenly change to this would have,” Methis chuckled. “I’ve done it both ways. This way really is better. Now, I believe you know most of Us.” She pointed around the room to Emtos and Emmine, the elder gods of the humans, Gran and Querna, the ultimate parents of Granomkind, Aritos, Methis’ husband and the younger gods of humanity and the Orenta, Nildar and Wenni. It was true, Spin and Twist had met nearly all of them at least once since the Elder Gods had returned to Maiyim. “I do not believe you have met Bellinen and Merinne yet.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Bellinen rumbled, holding his hand out to shake with Spin. Merinne, sometimes called “The Silent Goddess” merely nodded her greeting with a thin smile toward them.
“Well, there you go,” Methis chuckled, “You’re the first mortals to meet all of us since Silverwind, Oceanvine and Candle centuries ago.”
“And the first to meet us all in person and not via a dream in even longer,” Aritos added, “but I believe we have one more person attending this evening.” He gestured to a large Tri-Vee screen and the image of Maiyim Bourne’s persona suddenly appeared in front of it.
“Oh, is it that time already?” Maiyim asked. “Hello, everybody!”
“Oceanvine?” Wenni asked with a gasp.
“I thought Oceanvine had blonde hair,” Gran commented.
“Depends on which Oceanvine you’re talking about,” Methis told him, “and no, Wenni, this is not either Oceanvine, especially not a nineteen or twenty year old Oceanvine the Younger. This is the personality of Maiyim Bourne.”
“I do not recall giving the boat a personality,” Wenni frowned and looked at her husband. “Did you?” Nildar merely shrugged.
“You didn’t,” Methis informed them both. “Her personality is a result of a very advanced communications spell cast by Oceanvine the Younger. We can discuss how this happened in detail later, if you like. I’d be interested if your theory would agree with mine. In any case this unique person calls herself Maiyim and I invited her here this evening because she has been a partner to both Islandtwist and Spinnaker for several years. I believe she can be considered a part of our agreement with the Gods of the Tzali.”
“How so?” Emtos asked. “Did you meet her before our return?”
“I did, indeed,” Methis admitted. “The evening after Spin and Twist first arrived here some years ago aboard her, I went to the dock to visit her. I must say I had not expected a person to greet me, but she knew who I was, although her appearance was a surprise. At first I had thought Oceanvine had found a way to make herself a part of the boat, but Maiyim soon corrected me on that point. We had a long and interesting chat and have spoken on many occasions since.”
“So the boat is alive?” Merinne barely whispered, staring at Maiyim’s image.
“Maiyim Bourne was always alive,” Nildar commented, “but she was not self-aware. Maiyim, I hope you will allow me to visit you sometime soon.”
“And I,” Merinne breathed. “I feel a connection.”
“Of course,” Maiyim replied. “I love having company. With Spin and Twist in Granom, the only one I have had to talk to recently is Lord Olen. I’ve been doing some research for him.”
“On the Sons of Daughters of Maiyim?” Twist asked.
“Yes and those companies in Bellinen Archipelago,” Maiyim nodded. “I have been meaning to call you about them, in fact, but each time I have tried, you have either been asleep or busy.”
“You should have left a message,” Spin told her, “or even interrupted us. I doubt we were that busy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Maiyim promised. “I didn’t think it wise to distract you while you were handling that bomb today though.”
“How did you know about that?” Spin asked.
“Your phone implants are never truly turned off,” Maiyim explained. “It is possible to activate a comm without making it ring, so I can listen before calling to see if you are really free to answer. I understand all the governments use that technique when the need arises.”
“Not without a search warrant,” Twist told her, “but I don’t mind if you listen in on my conversations.”
“Neither do I, but I wonder if that could be blocked too,” Spin remarked.
“Do you mean fix it so no one could activate your private comm unit remotely to spy on you?” Maiyim asked. “Yes. Every unit has a code that can be used to turn that capability on and off. Do you want me to turn yours off?”
“Hmm,” Spin considered. “Do you have the code?”
“I know where to get it,” Maiyim nodded, “and, Twist, before you ask, it is not illegal. It is covered under the Personal Information Act. It’s just something that users are not told about.”
“Not just now,” Spin decided, “but it’s nice to know we can if we want.”
“Maiyim,” Bellinen asked, “Can you get the code for any comm. Unit?”
“That would be illegal and immoral,” Maiyim replied primly. “Yes, I could, but as Twist has constantly told me, we all have laws to live by. I could access the code for Spinnaker if he asked me to, but it would be wrong to look up someone else’s private code.”
“Would it?” Bellinen considered. “Well, yes, I can see what you mean. This is an interesting world We have all come back to. There is still so much to learn about it.”
“And We are running out of time,” Emmine remarked. “Soon it will change again and I doubt We will recognize that world either.”
“Has something happened?” Twist asked.
“This is why we are all here tonight and why Maiyim is with us via an encrypted comm line,” Methis explained. “The Tzali colonization fleet is just beyond the range of our best telescopes and sensors. Technically, they are still outside the planetary system, but we need to be ready for them now.”
“Twist and I have been training our students.” Spin pointed out. “They don’t know what they have been training for, but we have emphasized defensive and aggressive spells that we hope will be of use should the Tzali prove as aggressive as you assure us they are.”
“I would like to know more about the Tzali,” Twist commented. “We know so little about them.”
“Up until now it has not been necessary to go into detail,” Emtos told her, “and in truth, We do not know all We should about them.”
“The Tzali,” Gran picked up the explanation, “are a mammalian-like, bipedal species from a world approximately the size of Maiyim that circles a small yellow-white star, the same as Maiyim.”
“They sound a lot like us,” Spin noted.
“In some ways,” Querna replied. “They have three pairs of limbs, however. Their lower limbs are legs and upper limbs are arms. In between they have a pair of tail-like limbs whose primary use are for grasping a partner during sex. They have hair all over their torsos and upper limbs and very little on their legs, although they wear clothing so you will not see that readily. Also their ears are mounted on their necks, not their heads, and can be angled to be directional or folded flat to deaden sound.”
“Their home world is much dryer than Maiyim,” Emmine added. “I believe the ability to close their ears may have evolved as a defense against the many dust storms there. Much of their world does have a wet season too, so it could also be an adaptation to seasonal floods although as a civilization they have managed to minimize flooding in their cities and the Tzali are not natural swimmers.”
“More important than what they look like,” Bellinen cut in, “the Tzali are an aggressive and territorial species. They are organized into large extended families one might call packs. The leaders of these packs gain that position by dominating the others, much the same as many pack animals will.”
“They are not quite so animalistic,” Emtos argued. “Most of these packs are made up of smaller families, each of whom has a leader or alpha male or female, sometimes both. It is very rare that a pack alpha will not have first been a family alpha and in most packs the position of alpha is an elected post. Yes, they lead through domination, but they are also chosen by their families and their packs. Some alphas hold on to their positions because they are respected leaders even long after their ability to dominate physically has passed.”
“Their civilization,” Merinne whispered. “I find that more interesting,”
“Indeed,” Gran agreed. “One might have thought that such an aggressive people, whose governance is centered around the pack, would have had no time or ability to build a civilization. The packs would all be competing too much with each other. However, they have made accomodations. Cities do exist on Tzal and there are many packs who reside in them. Peace is maintained, most of the time, by inter-pack councils and their peace forces. That they can do it is amazing to me. They are badly out-numbered and seem to prevail only because the average Tzal will naturally obey orders from someone in authority.”
“I believe the peace is maintained because the Tzali also respect order and prefer to be left in peace. While there are inter-pack squabbles, young Tzali are brought up to respect the rights of others to have the same things he or she has,” Emmine explained.
“I seem to remember the same sort of training from my parents,” Twist remarked.
“That could be a hallmark of civilization,” Emmine allowed. “And yet we have had wars here on Maiyim just as they have on Tzal.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” Spin shrugged. “But if they are taught to respect each other’s rights and prefer to live in peace, are we so certain they are here to war with us?”
“Colonization for the Tzali is a deadly prospect,” Bellinen replied. “A colonization fleet is prohibited from ever returning to Tzal and, in fact may not even renew communications with the home world until they have established a civilization of their own. In short, colonizers must find a new homeworld or die. Some of their fleets have died or worse and the worlds the successful ones have found were proven to be only marginally habitable. In comparison, Maiyim is a paradise. The Tzali will not merely shrug and go away, just because there are people living here already. That would be tantamount to suicide. No, they will realize that their only hope of survival is to conquer Maiyim and make it their own. Our world is in grave danger.”
“And you all cannot help,” Spin added.
“Most of us cannot,” Aritos confirmed, “but we have a loophole.”
“We do, indeed,” Emtos nodded. “We made a treaty of honor with the gods of the Tzali. We have all agreed to not interfere with the conflict between the peoples of Maiyim and the Tzali fleet.”
“However,” Gran put in, “as we told you some years ago, the wording of the agreement allows for any of the gods and goddesses involved to interact with mortals with whom they had been involved prior to learning of the treaty. “You three, Spinnaker, Islandtwist and Maiyim Bourne, met and/or knew who Aritos and Methis were before our return to Maiyim. What is more, Methis and Aritos had agreed to give you special instruction in the art of Magic.”
“Science,” Twist corrected the elder god automatically.
“Pardon?” Gran asked.
“Magic is a science, Holy One,” Twist replied politely. “I will admit there is some artistry to how one might use it, but we no longer study magic as an art, but as an integral part of our science and technology.”
Gran smiled. “There is certainly art to it,” He maintained, “but treating it as a science – proper experimental method, and duplicable results – may be the greatest step forward the mortals of Maiyim have taken in the last few centuries. There is hope there, just as there is in the fact that you can be trained and advised by My daughter and brother.”
“But we still have so far to go,” Twist noted. “If the Tzali are already here, we should be working all the harder to get ready.”
“You are more prepared than you think, Twist,” Methis told her. “Remember that what we know about magic is ever-growing. I would venture to say that your knowledge of magical techniques is at least equal to that of your most famous ancestors; Silverwind and the Oceanvines.”
“Descended from Silverwind?” Merinne asked ever so softly. Twist nodded. “I liked that one,” Merinne went on, smiling. “He made me laugh.”
“I never did understand that,” Wenni sniffed. Methis put her hand to her mouth to hide a smile. Of all the Gods, Wenni was the most formal and humorless.
“Of course,” Aritos added, “this means that only Methis and I can train and advise you directly.”
“Wouldn’t that argue against our being able to meet with all of you like this?” Spin asked.
“There is some flexibility,” Aritos replied. “We are meeting with you this way now at My request. I could just repeat what My brothers and sisters are saying, so this is in keeping with the treaty. You will note they are offering you no advice and if in the future any of us do, you can rest assured it will be because either Methis or I asked them to.”
“For the most part we will not, of course,” Querna told them. “The treaty must be observed or the gods of Tzal will be free to participate directly and that would destroy our world.”
“Are the gods of Tzal here too?” Twist asked.
“One of them is aboard the Tzali fleet,” Methis replied. “We do not know who it is, but he or she will observe that we do not break the treaty.”
“If only Spin and I hadn’t gotten all tied up, protecting Princess Ilyana,” Twist complained. “There is still so much more we have to learn from you. We could be studying even now.”
“Getting out into the world is better preparation than sitting in a classroom, Twist,” Maiyim told her suddenly. “I just wish I could have gone with you this trip.”
“It was unexpected,” Spin told her, “and we did not have enough warning to sail you halfway across the world.”
“I know,” Maiyim replied. “We’ll go sailing when you get back.”
“Just how long do we have before the Tzali arrive?” Spin asked the Gods.
“One or two months at the outside,” Aritos replied, “depending on how they approach the system.”
“Most of them are still asleep in something called, ‘Chemo-stasis.’” Emtos explained. “They will wake up the entire crew before entering the system, I am sure.”
“That makes sense,” Spin nodded. “Do they know we’re here? Do they know this is an inhabited system?”
“Maybe,” Bellinen replied. “We are not certain about the details of their technology.”
“Except for the fact that it is more advanced than ours,” Spin countered.
“Is it?” Querna asked. “I found it quite different, but aside from the fact they have the ability to travel interstellar distances, I did not think their everyday technology was all that ahead of what We found on Our return to Maiyim.”
“Weapons,” Emtos pointed out. “Their weapons technology is impressive.”
“The people of Maiyim have weapons too,” Querna pointed out.
“Not like those of the Tzali,” Emtos argued. “And their scout ships can double as fighters. Maiyim’s spaceships are not armed. The Tzali will take this world by surprise at least at first.”
“We can warn the world leaders,” Twist pointed out. “My cousin is the Earl of Olen. He can get the word out.”
“You cannot yet speak to anyone else on Maiyim of the Tzali,” Bellinen reminded her. “The treaty allows us to speak to you through Aritos and Methis but it enjoins you from mentioning what you know until after the Tzali are known on Maiyim for what they are.”
“We told you that years ago,” Gran pointed out.
“And we’ve remained silent,” Twist agreed. “I hoped the time had come when we could act more openly.”
“Soon,” Merinne assured her.
“The Gods have no sense of time,” Spin grumbled as he and Twist were returned to their hotel suite. Their private and divine conference had lasted nearly all night although most of it had been a constant rehashing of what had been said in the first hour. Of the three, Maiyim had been the only one to leave with an immediate assignment. She was to monitor the space telescopes and news reports, looking for early signs of the Tzali.
“What time is it?” Twist asked tiredly.
“Five in the morning,” Spin replied. “We have to be awake in an hour to escort Her Highness to the airport. I’m not sure if I will be more alert if I stay up or if I catch a short nap.” Just then his comm implant buzzed. “Or else I have no choice. Hello?”
“Whoa!” a familiar voice observed, “You sound exhausted, skipper! Where are you?”
“Avetone in southern Granom, Alarn,” Spin told his oldest friend. He looked at Twist and told her, “You get some sleep. I’ll stay up until we get to the plane. Hi, Al, It’s early morning here, but we were still up.”
“Sorry about that, It’s early evening in Keesport,” Al reported. “I thought you’d only be a few hours behind me. I was wondering if you had heard the news.”
“I haven’t had time to watch,” Spin admitted.
“Jerry,” Al admonished Spin with his birth name, “I thought we had learned better on our trip to Olen years ago.”
“We did,” Spin agreed, “but this time it isn’t because I’m not bothering to look, just that I don’t have the time to do so. Twist and I just, uh, got out of an all-night conference.” Spin immediately regretted saying even that much. He hated having to lie to Al.
“Really?” Al asked interestedly. “What about?”
“The future of Maiyim,” Spin replied glibly, happy it was technically not a lie.
“That might be what I’m calling about,” Al told him. “You know I’ve been working on Lord Tamollen’s staff the last few years.”
“How could I not know,” Spin laughed. “I recommended you for the job.”
“I know and thanks,” Al chuckled in reply. “Anyway, he put me to work with that pretty girl in Olen, Maiyim Jenynges. Hey, is she Lord Olen’s sister?”
“No,” Spin laughed. “It’s a somewhat more distant relationship. I didn’t know you had met.”
“Not in person,” Al admitted. “But she sure is cute and smart too. I like that. If I weren’t already engaged, I might want to move to Olen like you did.”
“I don’t think Maiyim is ready to settle down just yet,” Jerry told his friend.
“Well, anyway, we’ve been comparing notes over the comm and via NetMaiyim,” Al explained. She’s found out stuff about the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim I didn’t know and I’ve managed to come up with items she wasn’t aware of so we’ve been a good team that way. Between us, I think we’ve come up with several direct links between the Sons and Daughters and Eldist Crusade, for example.”
“What?” Spin asked. “Do you have that confirmed?”
“Not as well as I would like, skipper,” Al admitted. “It’s all circumstantial, really. X amount of money is withdrawn from an account belonging to a suspected Son or Daughter and then sometime later the same amount is credited to an account owned by a leading Eldist thought to have connections to Eldist Crusade. The problem is between the source and the destination it hops from place to place and we lose track of it.”
“But it gives you a new place to look, I imagine,” Spin commented.
“True,” Al agreed, “but I’m getting off my own track here. So you didn’t hear about Tremulo and Aiwa, Ltd.”
“I know they produced that tiny null magic generator Twist and I found in Castelon,” Spin remarked. “Or was that Killo Magic?”
“Tremulo and Aiwa own Killo Magic,” Al pointed out.
“Do they?” Spin asked. “I thought they just had the Henas in common as major stock holders.
“Maiyim dug a little deeper and found that between the shares owned by Henchowa and Senni Henna and those owned Tremulo and Aiwa, Ltd, they have a controlling interest in Killo Magic,” Al explained. “The differences are only in the bank accounts. When you get right down to it, the Hennas own it all.”
“Okay,” Spin shrugged. “Is that the news?”
“Ha!” Al laughed harshly. “Not hardly. There was an explosion at the Tremulo and Aiwa plant on Orona Island. There was also a small fire in the office of Killo Magic on Killarn.”
“Are they related, do you think?” Spin asked.
“Probably,” Al replied. “Hard to believe they aren’t although according to the press release, there was no substantial damage to the Killo Magic offices. It was just a small paper fire in their main shredder bin.”
“Destroying the evidence,” Spin conjectured. “Whatever it was evidence of.”
“We’re fairly sure it was your micro-sized null magic generator,” Al replied, “but there’s no way to prove that unless some employee comes forward. I know we can’t exactly go charging in to inspect the fire damage. Not in Bellinen.”
“No, we can’t,” Spin agreed. “What about the Tremulo and Aiwa explosion?”
“Now that’s the interesting one,” Al chuckled then stopped abruptly. “No, that’s not funny. Not in the least! Bellinen is being very tight-lipped about it, but we’ve intercepted chatter from among their military research mages all over the archipelago.”
“From what I’ve heard of that bunch,” Spin replied. “The reason you’re picking up chatter is that they want you to. Most of them are working for the military by coercion.”
“How does one force a mage to do anything?” Al asked.
“The same way you can put pressure on anyone, really,” Spin retorted. “Threaten them. Threaten their friends and family.”
“A little melodramatic, don’t you think?” Al asked.
“It happens,” Spin insisted. “Of course the world is also full of cautionary tales of what happens to people who try to force mages to do something they do not want to. In Bellinen they do it through student loans. A university degree is expensive and most students have to take out loans to pay for their tuition, room and board. The government in Bellinen hands out such loans to anyone who has the talent, but the repayment is in years of service to the government. Sometimes an Orentan mage can get a job in the Department of Agriculture or the Department of Social Welfare, but the service jobs they get are assigned. Essentially mages who take government loans find themselves indentured to the government and forced to work wherever they are put. Many of them are assigned to military research and their life expectancies drop drastically.”
“Seriously?” Al asked.
“Military research is extremely hazardous,” Spin pointed out, “and Bellinen goes through a lot of mages that way. I seriously doubt they could get enough volunteers for the stuff they want.”
“Where did you learn that?” Al asked.
“From an Orentan wizard who managed to survive,” Spin replied. “Anyway, I also know that most of their military research wizards resist when they can get away with it. But tell me more about that explosion.”
“We have some satellite shots of the area,” Al explained. “The main building there took some structural damage, but from the chatter you would think the whole town had been leveled. Our chatty mages are going on about large scale devastation and long term ecological effects.. We just don’t see it.”
“Are you sure this chatter is from the mages?” Spin asked. “This could be some ploy by the politicians… no wait… Is anyone mentioning something called an N-Bomb?”
“How did you know?” Al asked.
“It’s a file name Maiyim uncovered back while we were on Castelon,” Spin explained. “We told her to leave it where it was. I’m wondering if maybe that was a mistake. Ask her if that file is still in the Tremulo and Aiwa computer. If it isn’t, I may know what sort of devastation you’re hearing about.”
“What sort?” Al pressed.
“I may be wrong,” Spin warned him, “but check to see if there are any active satellites measuring the background magic field of Maiyim. There’s usually one or two, but I don’t know for certain. If you find one, check to see when it will make its next pass over the affected area, or its last pass if it was from after the so-called explosion.”
“You don’t think there really was an explosion?” Al wondered.
“I don’t think the nature of the explosion was physical or at least not primarily,” Spin replied. “Check to see if the area has been rendered dead to magic.”
“Dead to magic?” Al gasped. “Is that possible?”
“It can be done temporarily with a null magic generator,” Spin replied. “I don’t know if it can be done permanently, but if it can, that would be a fairly devastating weapon. It might well affect people and animals too and if it was an N-Bomb, then I think we can assume the N does not stand for nuclear.”
“Neutron maybe?” Al suggested. “Weren’t neutron bombs supposed to kill the people of a city but leave the buildings mostly standing?”
“That’s old technology,” Spin replied. “I’m not sure why it would be kept in a secret files, but it’s possible. I suppose if I were in your place, I’d investigate that aspect as well.”
“Thanks, Skipper,” Al replied less than enthusiastically.
“Sorry,” Spin shrugged. “You came to me for answers and all you got were more questions.”
“True,” Al agreed, “but they are important questions and ones I might not have come up with on my own.”
They continued to chat about personal matters for a while before Al begged off to get back to work. Spin tried to get a bit of sleep after that, but the thought of a large, permanently null magic area kept him awake until it was time to board the plane later that day.
From Avetone, the princess’ party flew to the island of Fid in Methiscia. Older maps referred to the volcanic islands of Methiscia as “Methis’ Chain” and two hundred years earlier they were colonies of Granom, but colonies grow up and they were soon ready to stand on their own as an independent nation. Ties with Granom, however had remained strong and tropical Methiscia was a favorite vacation spot for many Granomen who flocked to the multi-colored sand beaches. Methiscia enjoyed a marine-modified climate that varied by only a few degrees mean temperature throughout the year.
Roughly sixty-seven percent of all Methiscians were Granomen, but nearly a quarter of the population were humans from Emmine and the rest were Orenta from Bellinen. Politically, Methiscia could be counted to side with Granom on most important issues, but as one of the so-called “Small Nations” her representatives in the International Congress frequently joined with the Isle of Fire and Wennil especially on environmental issues. There was also a certain wary cordiality between Methiscia and Ellisto, making Methiscia as close to a neutral party in political disputes as one was likely to find on Maiyim with the possible exception of the Isle of Fire herself.
Methiscia did have a bias toward Granom, just as the Isle of Fire had political ties to Bellinen, but judges from both nations were sought out in the international courts for their fairness. The current president of the International Congress was Gorek Tarshov, a citizen of Methiscia.
Princess Ilyana’s visit to Fid involved no parades. Instead, she rolled up her sleeves and worked for several days on permanent housing for locals who had lost their homes the previous year during a typhoon. As a news story it would only have been worth a line or two even in a tabloid, but with the early season Typhoon Anya reported as possibly headed toward Troba at the other end of Methiscia, it seemed to be of special interest.
“This was fun,” Ilyana commented to Twist on the fifth night after their arrival on Fid. “We built an entire house from start to finish.”
“Actually we built an entire block of houses,” Twist corrected her. They were sitting in Ilyana’s suite with Mila and Dusya listening quietly nearby.
“It was all one building,” Ilyana pointed out.
“Yes, but it will house over fifty people, Ilyana,” Twist countered. “You didn’t think that was a one family dwelling, did you?”
“I guess I didn’t really think it through,” the princess admitted. “Actually, I feel even better about that. I helped build homes for fifty people?”
“About that,” Twist nodded.
“Nice,” Ilyana smiled. “Too bad all these visits can’t be that productive. Our next stop is Missabilon, isn’t it?”
“I think so,” Twist nodded. It might have been a pleasant break for the princess and a chance to do something a royal person might never do otherwise, but for Twist and Spin, to say nothing of Oceanvine’s Girls it had been a nervous five days. The Princess had been constantly surrounded by people carrying all sorts of power tools that could have been used maliciously on a moment’s notice. Fortunately there had been no incidents of any sort on Fid.
“I’m not looking forward to Missabilon,” Ilyana admitted. “I was originally supposed to dedicate a new bridge there and I guess we’ll be doing that too, but the racial unrest in Takka City bothers me. The people have always gotten along well in these islands, but now the Orenta say they are being discriminated against. Are they?”
“That is for you to determine, Your Highness,” Mila told her.
“I know,” Ilyana groaned. “Why me? Why can’t they solve their own problems?”
“The question is unworthy of you, Ilyana,” Twist told her. “They have asked you to adjudicate because they trust you to be fair and impartial.”
“Sure, before I get there,” Ilyana retorted. “Right now everyone expects me to side with them. After I render an opinion we’ll see how fair and impartial they think I am.”
“Just do your best,” Twist advised. “That’s all they have the right to ask of you.”
“It’s not that easy,” Ilyana complained. “No matter how I choose, someone will claim I was prejudiced against them.”
Ilyana’s meetings with the parties involved on Missabilon were all behind closed doors and security on the building and especially the conference room was tight. However, it was deemed that wards and other magical protections would not only be unnecessary inside the conference room, but would be a breach of protocol if detected, so Spin and Twist spent the day taking turns maintaining a ward around the building itself while watching the news on the local Vid channels.
The news was mostly filled with Ilyana and her negotiations which, after running into the second week were becoming a bone of contention themselves. “I think it’s the reporters who are making the problem worse,” Spin decided. “No one involved in the negotiations is saying anything so rather than let the story get stale, they start making things up with wild conjectures as to what might be happening.”
“Maybe Ilyana ought to make a daily statement,” Twist considered.
“I don’t see how that would help, really,” Spin shook his head. “Even when she is just waving to the crowds, every gesture she makes and word she utters is parsed by the press for some deep hidden meaning. All a daily statement would accomplish would be to give them more to interpret whatever way they chose. How do you think she’s doing in there?”
“From what Mila says,” Twist replied. “She’s just listening patiently to all three sides and asking questions of each, but it doesn’t sound like she’ll accomplish very much if the people involved are not willing to compromise one way or the other.”
“We’ll see,” Spin shrugged.
To their surprise and Ilyana’s delight, however, the discussions ended well that afternoon. The local Orenta, who had been complaining of under representation in the city council, got what they wanted, a redrawing of electoral district lines that would potentially favor candidates of their choosing. It was not a big change and would, at most, allow only one or two more Orenta on the City Council, but it satisfied them and the rest of the negotiators felt they had all been fairly dealt with as well, not having had to give up any more than they had been willing in order to reestablish the harmony they had enjoyed previously.
The news that evening and the next few days credited Ilyana with working a miracle, but privately she was modest about her accomplishment. “I just let them all talk themselves out,” she admitted to Twist and Spin as they flew on to New Querna on the island of Gano. “When they had all had their say I started asking what they wanted most and what they were willing to sacrifice in order to get it. I don’t think the problem was as serious as they made it out to be at first. No one really gave up much and they all gained.”
“They needed a neutral party to accomplish it, though,” Spin told her. “Had they done the same thing in front of a local judge or politician there would have been concerns of prejudice and bias, just as you feared would happen when you chaired the negotiations, but they trusted you to be fair. I guess you handled the situation perfectly since it worked out so well.”
“Thank you,” Ilyana beamed. “Well, let’s hope that’s the last time I’ll have to do something like that for this trip.”
“She did very well,” Dusya told Twist and Spin later after the princess had nodded off. The noise of the jet engines kept their conversation private.
“She definitely got the desired results,” Spin remarked. “I didn’t see her in action, though.”
“Mila and I did,” Dusya replied. “Her Highness is too modest about her role in those talks. She managed them in such a skillful and natural way that both parties did not realize they were being managed and she charmed them in such a way they wanted to find a way to come to terms. It is a shame she is a woman.”
“That sounds very strange coming from another woman,” Twist commented.
Dusya’s face became slightly translucent and she hastened to explain herself. “I meant that if she had been born male she would be our next king. We need a king like her. We need a prince and we need him soon. His Majesty is not a young man and since the deaths of Ilyana’s parents and baby brother we have had no clear successor to the throne. If the princess were a prince the kingdom would have fewer problems on that front and she would be a good king, I think.”
“She rarely speaks of herself,” Twist noted. “Is she engaged?”
“No,” Dusya shook her head. “She is charming and personable, but she had not shown a serious interest toward any of the noblemen in the kingdom nor has His Majesty pressed her to do so. It is a confusing time for us.”
“Marry in haste, repent at leisure,” Twist replied.
“If Her Highness marries too hastily,” Dusya retorted, “All Granom may repent, but we must have an heir to the throne. It is hoped she might find a suitable man on this trip.”
“Is that what all this is really about?” Spin demanded.
“No,” Dusya shook her head, “not really. The main reason is just what we have told you. It is a good will tour, but if she should meet a young man of good family who might prove to be a good king, then all the better.”
“He would be adopted into the House of Granova?” Twist asked.
“Eventually,” Dusya nodded. “If His Majesty approved.”
Neither mage had to ask what might happen if Ksaveras died without a male heir. There were several families who might have a claim to the throne of Granom, but unlike in Emmine there was no clear line of succession. The Granomen often laughed at Emmine kinship reckoning with its third cousins once removed, but the humans of Emmine had manage to make calculating one’s proximity to the throne a matter of mathematics. In Granom there were close and distant cousins. Succession, once you got beyond the immediate family and close cousins, was murky to say the least. It was not impossible the kingdom would be torn apart by prospective heirs dragging the kingdom to pieces.
Mila joined them and commented, “It is a good thing our trip will not be taking us to Troba.”
“Why is that” Twist asked. “Troba is the only island in this chain with active volcanoes. I would have thought they might be a good photo opportunity for Her Highness.”
“We try not to push her deliberately into that sort of danger,” Mila responded sternly, “although the volcanoes of Troba do not erupt violently very often and they are more predictable than those in Granom. However, my concern is Typhoon Anya. While Her Highness was solving the local problems on Missabilon, Anya’s course has turned directly toward Troba and will scrape past the southern end tomorrow night.
New Querna had been built as an utterly modern city two centuries previously and it remained a modern showcase even now. None of the original steel and glass towers still stood in the capital city’s business district, but they had been replaced by newer structures. These new skyscrapers were taller and more interesting to the eye. There were buildings of many different shapes and styles including the Gan Tower which was currently the tallest building on Maiyim and shaped like a double helix because the architect had been inspired by the shape of a DNA molecule.
The older, classic skyscrapers had been monochromatic, but the buildings of modern New Querna displayed all the colors of the rainbow and one building even changed colors constantly over the course of the day.
Princess Ilyana’s itinerary called for her to attend an art show the first afternoon after her arrival, followed by a state dinner at the presidential mansion. She arrived at the Methiscia National Institute for the Arts exactly as scheduled where she was met by Taro Horonov, the son of the president of Methiscia, Aisho Horonov. Taro, a charming and handsome young Granom, immediately hit it off with Ilyana and escorted her through the exhibit for the next two hours as they chatted companionably about the paintings and sculptures, about world politics, and a dozen other subjects they both were obviously interested in.
“Is he the sort you hoped she might meet” Spin asked Dusya.
“That is debatable,” Dusya considered. “He is certainly of a good family, although they are neither royal nor noble. It is hard to believe the Parliament would accept an heir who is not at least noble, although given enough time… Well, it is a hopeful sign in the princess at least.”
It came as a surprise to neither the mages nor Oceanvine’s Girls that Taro Horonov insisted on escorting Ilyana to the state dinner, where they spent much of the evening in each other’s company whenever the princess was not meeting other important people of Methiscia. Methiscian security was so high, at the Presidential Mansion it was understandable that both the mages and Oceanvine’s Girls felt they were able to relax. However, midway through the evening Mila noticed that neither Ilyana nor Taro were to be found.
Mila and Dusya immediately alerted Spin and Twist and then started quizzing the Methiscian Presidential Protection Servicemen and women. “Remind me to put a tracking spell on her,” Twist told Spin.
“You do that,” Spin remarked. “I intend to rig up a spell that will spank her rump royal red should she ever attempt to slip away from us again.”
“I like that,” Twist nodded, “but first we need to find her.”
“Let’s check with the perimeter guards and see if we can figure out, which way they went,” Spin suggested. “Maybe they just went for a walk in the garden.”
Mila came running up to them just then. “They only slipped out a minute or so before we noticed they were missing. One of the kitchen staff told me, but that’s only because she saw them heading out beyond the main gate.”
“You couldn’t stop them at the gate?” Twist asked.
“They did not actually go to the gate,” Mila explained as she guided them out of the room. “They slipped into a secret passage that let them get just outside the gate.”
“Are you kidding?” Spin demanded. “A secret passage? I thought those things only happened in bad Vids.”
“They exist,” Mila maintained. “In the Age of Faith many castles had such passages. Some were internal only and allowed the servants to get from one place to another unseen. A few were made as emergency exits so if under siege the occupants might slip away if all seemed lost. The Wurra Palace is riddled with such passages, although I think some of them were accidents of remodeling. Ksaveras XI and his family escaped through one when the Wurra was captured during the Revolution/Counter Revolution. I understand there are similar passages in all our embassies, although they are the sorts servants use.”
“Freddy’s manor has some,” Twist added. “Servants passages and back stairways and the like. They aren’t really secret, but if you don’t know they are there you won’t see them.”
“Sounds like none of them are really secret,” Spin commented.
“We call them secret passages because their entrances are hidden,” Mila explained, “not because nobody knows about them. Come on! We need to find them. Dusya is already outside. I was hoping you could use your magic to track Her Highness.”
“I need a quick detour,” Twist protested. “My staff is in the cloak room.”
“Do you really need it?” Mila asked, sounding pained.
“I might,” Twist replied. Just then heads all around the hall turned to watch Twist’s staff flying overhead.
“I got it for you,” Spin explained.
“Thank you,” Twist told him warmly, silently berating herself for not think of using telekinesis to retrieve it herself. She clasped the smooth wood in her right hand and checked to see how well charged up it was. A little low, she thought silently and worked on that as they entered Mila’s secret passage. They ran down a narrow flight of stairs and then through a long straight corridor. They found another short stairway and a door that opened into what appeared to be the gardener’s shed. It was right near the small north gate of the Presidential Mansion’s grounds.
“They came through here, ma’am” a guard told Mila without her having to ask. “Your partner told me to say they went that way.” He pointed to the left just outside the gate.
“Thanks,” Spin told him as they ran past.
They ran into Dusya at the end of the next block. “We’ll need to split up,” she told the others.
“Islandtwist, come with me,” Mila decided authoritatively and they ran down the block to the right.
“Good thing they couldn’t have gone straight from here,” Spin commented.
“I’m hoping they just slipped out to go to a club,” Dusya told him as they hurried down the block. “I heard Her Highness say something about wishing she could while we were at the art show. That boy said he’d love to take her to one.”
“Where are the clubs around here?” Spin asked.
“I don’t know,” Dusya admitted. “I should have found out.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about that,” Spin advised. “Twist and I want to put a leash on her when we find her.”
“A leash?” Dusya asked. “ Good thought, but I cannot let you humiliate her.”
“I meant a tracking spell so we know where she is,” Spin admitted. They got to the end of the block and looked all three ways from there.
“Go straight,” Dusya decided. “We’ll have to search in a spiral pattern.”
“Oh, wait that won’t work!” Spin exclaimed.
“Why not?” Dusya asked. “It is a common search procedure.”
“No, sorry,” Spin apologized. “I meant the tracking spell. Ilyana is magic-null. It won’t stick to her. It was a good idea too.”
They hurried through the streets of New Querna and after several blocks they heard a woman’s scream from around the next corner. Racing as fast as they could, they saw Taro lying on the sidewalk and Ilyana being accosted by four men, all dressed in cliché black.
“Freeze!” Dusya shouted, pulling her gun out and aiming at one of the men.
“Let her go!” Mila commanded from the other direction. Her gun was out of its holster as well.
Spin attempted to cast a binding ward, but before he could all four men and the princess vanished with a thunderclap to mark their passing. “They went right through my ward,” Twist commented.
“I never even got mine in place,” Spin admitted, “but how did they translocate with her? She’s magic-null. That’s probably why your ward didn’t work, come to think of it.”
“Figure out how they did it later,” Mila told them excitedly. “Can you follow them?”
“We can,” Twist replied, “but you cannot. Look to the president’s son. Spin, use the golden staff to absorb the jump-shock. If we’re lucky all five of them are unconscious at the other end of the trail.”
Following a translocation trail was something Methis and Aritos had taught them a year earlier. It was Aritos who pointed out they might well have figured it out for themselves soon after learning how to translocate in the first place. “It’s really much easier than moving yourself to a specific destination,” He told them. “To follow a fresh trail just clear your mind and let the spell take the path of least resistance. If the trail is fresh you’ll follow it exactly.”
Spin took the staff out of his pocket and without waiting for it to grow. He grabbed Twist’s hand and concentrated. A moment later they were on a beach. “Looks like good surfing here,” he commented as they saw a large wave break by moonlight.
“Those aren’t the sorts of waves a beginner should learn on,” Twist told him, looking around. “They’re not here. They jumped again from here. See the trail?”
“I do,” Spin replied. ” Ready?” A moment later their surroundings changed again.
“It’s dark,” Twist remarked. A moment later a ball of light appeared over her head and they found themselves in what seemed to be a warehouse.”
“They jumped again,” Spin reported. “I think they are trying to lose us.”
“They’ll have to do better than this,” Twist told him, “although I’m glad Methis drilled us on just this sort of rapid translocation. Could you make the staff larger so we can both hold it.”
“Sure, but we don’t have to cast a cooperative spell to translocate,” Spin reminded her.
“No but we might have to when we finally catch up,” Twist insisted. “And Methis says we do cooperative magic better than almost any of her former students.”
“She does, but it seems to me thisisn’t what she meant by practicing self-translocation.”
“Maybe not,” Twist shrugged, “but I’m sure glad we had even that one day of practice in the Five Demons.” Spin nodded and the staff grew until it was six feet long. Twist took hold of it and they were off again.
They were on a rooftop overlooking a city. “Are we still in New Querna?” Spin asked.
“Doesn’t look like it,” Twist decided. “And it’s colder and windier than it was there. Not sure where we are.”
“What matters is where we are going next,” Spin replied. “My turn.”
A warm tropical wind knocked them off their feet. Twist let go of the golden staff and concentrated on holding on to her wooden one. It was dark here and the wind was fierce and full of rain. In fact it almost felt like they were in a river, save they could breathe so long as they were not facing into the wind. The wind screamed and moaned all around them and whenever they tried to stand up they got knocked back down and had to roll with it.
Spin tried to shout over the wind and failed. Twist cast a light spell, similar to the one in the warehouse and immediately saw Ilyana and her kidnappers also struggling against the storm. Spin cast a ward that pushed three of the kidnappers away from the princess, but her null magic field disrupted it when he tried to push the fourth one away.
Twist barely managed to block a counter attack from the rogue mages when two threw fireballs at her and Spin. When she looked again, they had all disappeared. This time, however, they had not translocated and she sent light spells off in several directions. Dressed in black as they were, it was hard to see them, but then she spotted Ilyana’s lavender dress and tried to charge toward it, only to get knocked down on her face by the wind.
Suddenly the wind stopped pushing on Twist and Spin. Twist realized Spin must have cast an impenetrable ward behind them to give them some shelter. Both mages took off in the direction they had last seen Ilyana and soon caught up. Only one of the kidnappers, an Orente to judge from his height and light bone structure was with her, however. Spin tried a projectile ward, but Ilyana inadvertently blocked it. Twist tried another Using a trick she had once seen Spin use on Midbar, she sent the projectile to hit the kidnapper from behind, but Ilyana was struggling against him, and that spell dissipated harmlessly as well.
Spin charged in with his staff and was about to use it in the most rudimentary and physical manner, when Ilyana suddenly lifted her erstwhile attacker over her head and threw him roughly against a nearby palm tree. The rogue mage slumped to the ground and stayed still.
They had no time to relax, however. A moment later two fireballs and a bolt of lightning struck Spin’s shielding ward. “Ilyana, stay well behind us!” Twist shouted, uncertain if she had been heard.
Meanwhile, Spin was firing a hot projectile ward at one of the kidnappers. The man fell dead with a steaming hole in his chest, but when he tried the same spell on the next man over, the hot ward was simply absorbed by the man’s protections. A moment later, he realized it was not a man at all, but a Granomish woman. That did not make much difference as far as he was concerned. It was still a battle for the princess’ life.
Twist saw how Spin’s magical attacks were being nullified. That was too bad. It had literally taken her years to convince him to stop throwing furniture and rocks around and now that might be just what they needed. She concentrated and, using all the power she could muster from her staff and the area around them, she made the ground under the rogue mages heave up suddenly, knocking them off their feet. Before either she or Spin could capitalize on that, a palm tree was abruptly uprooted by the storm and it fell on the Granomish woman. The final kidnapper reached into a pocket, pulled out a tech-magic device of some sort and vanished.
“So that’s how they jumped so much!” Twist remarked, her words getting ripped from her as fast as she could speak them. Spin was already binding up the two surviving, unconscious kidnappers in a ward and had them floating in front of them. Twist reached out with her mind and picked up the body of the other kidnapper. It floated behind them.
“Now what?” he asked Twist. She could not hear him, but that was a simple phrase to read off his lips. She shrugged, but Ilyana tugged on her arm and pointed off to their right. Twist turned and saw a small concrete building at the end of a path between the trees. She nodded and they made their way there as fast as they could.
Ilyana got to the door first. “It’s locked,” she reported.
Spin couldn’t hear her, but understood. He shrugged and looked through a window. “No lights on,” he observed, not trying to be heard. He cast a light spell inside the building and discovered it was a boat house. Inside were several bright orange rowboats of the sort a beach lifeguard might use. There was no one inside, so he went over to the door and found Twist had already opened it.
It was noisy inside, but not compared to the moaning wind outside. “Did you pick the lock?” Ilyana asked interestedly as they all stood, dripping on the floor.
“No,” Twist laughed, as Spin levitated the two surviving kidnappers down on to the floor nearby. “I don’t know how to pick locks, but the door was only locked from the outside. I used a spell to turn the inside handle.”
“Can you teleport us out of here?” Ilyana asked.
“The correct term is translocate,” Twist corrected her and she placed the dead kidnapper next to his former partners. “We could leave that way, but you’re magic-null. Any attempts to translocate with you would fail.”
“Then how did they do it?” Ilyana asked.
“Don’t know,” Spin admitted as he checked the pockets of one of the kidnappers. He found a small metal object. It was the size of his palm, had several lights on it and a single on/off rocker switch. It was heavy and Spin decided it must have been almost solid metal. “Any idea what this is?”
“None whatsoever,” Twist shook her head.
Ilyana just shrugged. “I saw them using some other devices, like the one that got away. I think that’s how they tele… uh, I mean translocated.”
“Let’s check the rest of their pockets,” Twist suggested. A few minutes later they had three of the small one-switch devices. “They all had them, but I still don’t know what they do.”
“We can look into that later,” Spin suggested. “I’d like to deliver the kidnappers to Mila and Dusya. They can see to having them arrested or put in the morgue depending on which you mean. Then, perhaps I can find something to eat and bring it back for us.”
“You’re going to translocate out of here?” Ilyana asked.
“And come back with food and drink since we’ll have to wait out the storm,” Spin told her.
“And dry clothing, please,” Ilyana told him.
“And perhaps some inflatable mattresses or something,” Spin added, “unless you think you can be comfortable on a bed of life preservers.”
“How are you going to translocate back to New Querna?” Twist asked. “The trail must be mostly dissipated by now.”
“By comm,” Spin replied. “I should be able to follow a signal back.”
“Have you ever tried that before?” Twist asked.
“I just thought of it,” Spin admitted. “But we don’t know for certain where we are. I mean I expect we are on the south side of Troba, but that’s not good enough for translocation. But I can use magic to get a fix on Mila’s comm unit once I’ve opened a connection to her. Don’t worry if the way isn’t as clear as I hope, I won’t try it.”
“You had better not,” Twist told him, but waved him to go ahead. Spin activated his implanted comm unit and called Mila.
“Hello?” Mila responded.
“Mila, it’s Spin,” he told her. “Hold on a second.”
“Wait! Where are you? Where’s Her Highness?” Mila asked frantically, but instead of answering Spin concentrated. Comms were part electronic and part tech-magic. Using a mage’s trained ability to detect magical energy, he looked around and spotted a spell string attached to his hand. He tightened his grip on the golden staff and a moment later was standing in front of Mila. “Ahh!” Mila started.
“Sorry,” Spin apologized for startling her. “Didn’t want to get bogged down with explanations. Oh heck, I forgot the kidnappers. Hold on.”
“What?” Mila almost shouted. “Tell me what is going on.”
“I will,” Spin replied. “Promise.” Then he called Twist. “I forgot something, didn’t I?” he asked her.
“You’re okay?” Twist asked worriedly.
“I’m fine,” Spin told her. “Are you still standing where you were a moment ago? Good.” He concentrated again and the kidnappers instantly appeared near him. “Okay, I got them. Twist, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Where were you and who are these?” Mila asked. Now that Spin had a little time he looked around and saw that they must be in a police station. There were certainly enough uniformed men and women standing around them, staring.
“These are three of the four kidnappers,” Spin replied. “At least one of them is dead. The other two we weren’t all that gentle with either.” He went on to describe the chase and battle he and Twist had been in. “So anyway, I think we’re on Troba, but we’re stuck in the middle of that typhoon.”
“In a boathouse?” Dusya asked.
“As I said, in a boathouse,” Spin confirmed. “It’s fairly spacious, but not comfortable and as you can tell from my clothing we’re soaked and before it’s over we’ll be hungry too. I figure to bring back food and drink, dry clothing and something to sleep on.”
“I will arrange that,” Dusya told him.
“We will also go with you,” Mila insisted.
“You think that is wise?” Spin countered. “I have to go back there. You do not.”
“Yes, we do!” Mila told him emphatically. “It is our job to protect Her Highness. We are Oceanvine’s Girls.”
Spin was about to tell her how ridiculous that sounded, but let it pass. “Very well. Let’s get everything together and we’ll be off.”
It was neither that easy nor that fast. The New Querna Police insisted on an official statement and Spin had to tell his story all over again and answer question as well. While he was doing that Dusya had rounded up everything they would need on Troba and loaded it into a hopper. “When the storm is over, we can fly to the nearest town or city,” she explained.
“I thought Granomen didn’t use hoppers and floaters,” Spin commented.
“This is not Granom,” Dusya pointed out. The People of Methiscia are like humans in Emmine. They prefer to travel in the air. I could have gotten a normal car or a floater, but the hopper will go anywhere. If need be, we can fly back here after the storm.”
The storm was still raging when Spin translocated the full hopper to just outside the boathouse and the automatic course correction spells that were built into the machine had to flight against the wind just to stay in place until Twist opened a wide garage-like door on one side of the building and Mila was able to drive the hopper directly inside.
“It took you long enough,” Ilyana complained.
“We got here as fast as we could,” Spin explained.
“But I’m cold and wet,” Ilyana told him.
“Then dry off, Your Highness,” Mila told her coolly. She tossed a bundle of dry clothing somewhat unceremoniously at the princess, and then handed a similar bundle to Twist. Ilyana did not miss the snub, but walked briskly behind some of the boats and changed her clothing while Dusya started inflating mattresses.
Ilyana soon reappeared in a pink sweatshirt and Emmine-style jeans. Spin thought she looked pretty good in the simple clothes, but Ilyana had another opinion. “You expect me to wear this outfit?”
“That outfit is dry and warm, Your Highness,” Mila told her firmly. “And I think Dusya could use your help making up our beds.”
“What?” Ilyana asked incredulously.
“Your Highness heard me,” Mila shot back. “Since you got us into this situation, the least you can do is help make us all comfortable.”
“I got you into this?” Ilyana drew herself up proudly.
“Who went sneaking off to a club without any of her bodyguards?” Mila countered. “You don’t really know that boy. We’re still investigating him ourselves to see whether or not he set you up.”
“Taro wouldn’t do that,” Ilyana maintained.
“It wouldn’t be the first time he’s been in trouble with the law, Your Highness,” Mila informed her. “In your absence his father admitted as much. Oh he’s been fine for two years as far as we can tell, but he was a real hell-raiser in college. But don’t you think it’s an amazing coincidence that he convinces you to sneak out with him and as soon as you and he are out of our sight four mages kidnap you? He might have been part of that.”
“They knocked him out,” Ilyana argued.
“He got better,” Mila reported. “He wasn’t harmed at all, in fact. So he’s a suspect until we either can prove his guilt or clear him.”
“He’s from a good family,” Ilyana maintained.
“So is Teodora Pafsa,” Mila argued, “but she was one of your kidnappers. We have her in a null-magic ward in the hospital right now, but she’ll stand trial with her companion if she survives.”
“I didn’t know,” Ilyana admitted. “Isn’t she…?”
“Baron Pafsa’s daughter,” Mila told her. “Yes, and the Baron of Pafsa is thought to be allied with the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim.”
“He is?” Ilyana asked. “Why doesn’t anyone tell me these things?”
“Keeping your princess just a bit too protected, maybe?” Spin suggested.
Mila spun around angrily at his accusation and pointed at him in preparation to round off, but then suddenly deflated. “Maybe,” she admitted.
“Ilyana,” Twist tried. “You scared all of us tonight when you suddenly disappeared.”
“Don’t I deserve some time off?” Ilyana protested. “Everyone else gets at least an evening here and there. Why not me?”
“Take time off, sure,” Mila told her, “but do it in your room. Do you really think we go off to parties when we’re not around? We are on duty protecting you every hour of the day. Even when you do not see us, we are still nearby and ready to be there for you.”
“I don’t understand this,” Ilyana shook her head. “I could have been killed, but you’re blaming me?”
“That’s right,” Mila told her, although her tone was gentler than before. “You could have been killed. Fortunately, you had Spinnaker and Islandtwist to save you. Without them this conversation would not even be happening. I think perhaps Master Spinnaker is right though. We have been sheltering you too much, Your Highness. You have no idea how much danger you have been in so far.”
Mila went on to describe what had happened at Farmist and Avetone as Ilyana seemed to shrink in on herself. Had she been a human woman, Twist was certain the princess would have turned pale, but the Granomish bone white skin could not get any paler than it already was.
Spin woke up some hours later and realized Twist was not beside him. It was quiet now. The storm had passed. He sat up and put on his shoes. Looking around, he saw Ilyana sleeping peacefully, boxed in between Mila and Dusya. Then he went looking for Twist.
He found her outside the boathouse, sitting in the sand with the emerald he had given her orbiting her head slowly. On a whim, he caused a handful of sand to form a ring to circle his own head. The sky was now partly clear and Midbar was reflected on the crashing waves of the nearby beach. “Nice view,” he remarked softly.
“It’s quiet now,” she smiled at his ring of sand. “It reminds me of that night after the feast in Merinta, well, except for the surf. Not a lot of that on the Inner Seas, especially in Merinta. But it’s peaceful and quiet. I went out on the beach that night too.
“You did?” Spin asked.
“Yes,” Twist nodded. “I fell asleep at once when we got back to the boat, but I woke up after an hour and a half. Uncle Cirrus was still talking and singing with the Merinta folk, but I went for a walk or planned to. I don’t think I got more than a hundred yards down the beach. Midbar was up that night too and I just sat watching its reflection on the water until the sky started to get light. Is the storm over, do you think? Or are we still in the eye?”
Spin reached for the golden staff, but realized it was still in the shirt pocket he had changed out of hours before. Instead he reached for Twist’s staff – the wooden one with the bronze bands near the ends. Then he cast his thoughts toward the sky. “It’s over,” he announced, “I’m pretty sure of that.”
“How can you tell?” Twist asked.
“I used a simple sensory spell as though it was weather radar,” he chuckled. “I detected the storm clouds to the southeast of here. They were nearly out of range, but it was a band of clouds with a convex shape relative to our position. If we were in the eye of the storm the shape would have been concave and all around us.”
“Why don’t I think of such things?” Twist wondered.
“What do you mean?” Spin wondered.
“I’ve been studying magic years longer than you have,” Twist pointed out, “but I don’t invent anywhere as many new spells or uses for old spells as you do. Think about it. Earlier tonight you thought up the idea of translocating using the signal from a comm unit as a locator, and just now you came up with a way to look at the clouds.”
“It’s not all that much,” Spin told her. “It was the same sensor spell any of us use to feel around in an area we can’t see. You used it with telekinesis to open the boathouse door last night.”
“That’s the way I learned the spell,” Twist told him.
“And you know a lot more magic than I do even if I do have my master’s degree,” Spin pointed out.
“But you do more with what you know, Spin. You always have,” she told him.
“It’s probably just my lack of early training,” Spin shrugged.
“Spin,” Twist told him seriously. “I know I’m a very good mage. I was a child prodigy and I’m well on my way to being a wizard. However, you are more creative than I have ever been. That’s your greatest strength. I just wish I could do the same.”
“And I just wish I could keep up with you,” Spin told her. “I’ve been working harder than I ever have in my life just to be in your league.”
“It’s not a competition, you know,” Twist pointed out.
“That’s my point,” Spin told her. “We aren’t in a competition, we’re a partnership and a darned good one if you ask me. We have different but compatible strengths and together we’re unbeatable.”
“You think so?” Twist gave him a crooked smile.
“Hey!” Spin laughed. “Who’s better than us?”
“My parents?” Twist countered.
“Amble and Moonsong are great wizards,” Spin allowed, “but you’ve said yourself they don’t work together professionally. Name one pair of wizards who work together as well as we do.”
“Outside of our classes I don’t really know any mages to work together the way we do,” Twist admitted.
“True enough,” Spin agreed. “We were all taught that cooperative magic was difficult and dangerous. Methis showed us otherwise, but even before that, we figured it out for ourselves. Remember what we did together on Midbar? And now we’re training our own students in techniques we discovered along with a few tricks from Methis and Aritos. None of them are as good as we are yet, but they are improving.”
“But you’re still the more creative one,” Twist pointed out.
“Anthropology,” Spin laughed.
“What?” Twist asked.
“Remember that anthropology class Moonsong insisted I take in Randona?” Spin reminded her.
“She was trying to split us apart,” Twist smiled.
“Yeah, that was her last shot, though,” Spin nodded, “but you fooled her again, by spending a semester in Randona too.”
“It gave me a chance to use the library there,” Twist explained, “and to polish up my thesis without the distraction of teaching classes.”
“Right,” Spin chuckled. They both knew Twist had done that to be near Spin. “Anyway, she insisted I was weak in anthropology, She was right. I’d never had any anthropology classes at all. I knew nothing about the subject, but I recall something about the division of labor among the sexes. Men create, women perfect.”
“What?” Twist asked. “I don’t recall that in any of my classes.”
“It’s broad and generalized and not even an entirely accepted theory within the anthropological community, I don’t think, but the way it goes is men tend to be the creators and inventors. It is women who take those inventions and improve on them. Oh there are a lot of exceptions to that on the individual level. Women can certainly be creative and there are men who never have an original thought throughout their lives, but in general it is thought that the great inventions were by men. Agriculture, for example, might have started when someone noticed that seeds dropped from gathered grain sprouted and that was where the next year’s crop came from. But for a hunter-gatherer, if you want grain you have to go where the grain is. So the first farmers tried planting seeds from their harvest in more convenient locations. It was an experiment. The first time it might have just been some guy wondering what would happen if he tried it.
“So according to my teacher,” Spin went on, “it was probably a man who invented agriculture in the form of planting grain where he wanted it.”
“So he wouldn’t have to walk so far to get it?” Twist asked. “Are you saying it was because he was lazy?”
“Well, the odds are it was the women who were doing the gathering,” Spin replied, “although some men might have accompanied them to hunt and possibly protect them in unfamiliar territory, but perhaps he was lazy. It was certainly a way to save time. The time spent walking to the wild grain could be used in other ways.”
“And all of the sudden men were farmers?” Twist asked skeptically.
“All of a sudden?” Spin echoed, “Well maybe in archaeological time it was sudden. Probably took a few generations to catch on, while men worked out what crops grew best and where. But we’re getting to my point. Once they figured that out, they got bored. Farming, especially with a stone age technology, is dull and repetitive work. Weeding the fields, keeping each plant the ideal distance from the others, driving off pests and so forth. Harvesting was probably a community effort by both men and women, but planting and tending the fields was likely done by women. Men, in general that is, are not well suited to doing that sort of work, but women are, so as soon as farming became a source of sustenance, it is possible that men left most of the work to the women. Those women would notice their tools worked, but that with a few changes they might be better, so they would try those changes and agriculture stopped being a man’s hobby and started being a woman’s science. The women took the basic invention of agriculture and made it better and probably more productive.”
“So you’re saying you’re more creative because you’re a man?” Twist asked archly.
“No, I never completely bought into that whole theory,” Spin admitted. “It seemed too sexist and as I said, there are too many individual exceptions. Women can be creative and men can display the patience to accomplish dull repetitive jobs. It’s like the old myth that men cannot multitask. I think that was invented either by a man who couldn’t get anything done trying to do two things at once or else by his wife. Since there are plenty of people who really need to stick to one job at a time, they believed it and propagated it as though it were proven theory.”
“Well it worked,” Twist grinned.
“What worked?” Spin asked.
“You managed to distract me and change the subject,” Twist replied. “Now how are we going to get back to New Querna?”
“We’ll fly, of course,” Spin told her. “There’s room in that hopper for all of us, but I imagine there’s an airport on Troba too.”
“You’re sure this is Troba?” Twist asked.
“Oh yeah,” Spin nodded. “I determined that just before I translocated to New Querna last night. I had to really. You know we have to have a general notion of where we are and where we are going. In this case, I was able to work it backwards. Had we been on a large island like Quirnlia or Rallena I would have had to guess and probably would have been wrong. But knowing where New Querna was and what direction I was from there, pretty much told me all I needed to know.”
“I see what you mean,” Twist nodded. “If you follow a straight line from anywhere on Gan Island to here the next landmass on that vector would be Ellisto and that’s thousands of miles away.”
“Right,” Spin nodded. “I’d have to be oblivious not to notice that distance. Of course it helps knowing world geography.”
“By the way, while you were gone I looked at those devices you found on the kidnappers,” Twist told him. “I think that’s how they translocated without the usual jump-shock.”
“Tech-magic tranlocationary devices?” Spin asked. “That’s not good.”
“Neither good nor bad,” Twist shrugged. “Like most magic it depends on how it is used, but no, they aren’t translocators. When you push the button they emit a powerful field of magical energy that seems to absorb magical energy around it. Self-powered, you see?”
“Okay,” Spin nodded, “but what’s the point of that?”
“Ah,” Twist sighed, “it doesn’t prevent you from using magic because it absorbs energy at a set rate. I think it’s an adaptation of a null magic generator, but I’ll send one of them back to Olen for Mom to analyze. I could be wrong. But however it works, it absorbs the jump-shock energy. It’s why they could translocate without losing consciousness. It’s also why they were able to translocate Ilyana. It absorbed her null magic field.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Spin shook his head.
“Sure it does,” Twist insisted. “It’s like I said, an adaptation of null magic technology, it actually blended with her natural field and made the effect of the devices that much stronger. If I’m right those devices could be a boon to the magic-nulls of the world. It wouldn’t allow them to be mages, of course, but many tech-magic medical techniques would be available to them.”
“If long-term use of the device did not increase their null magic fields,” Spin pointed out.
“It probably would,” Twist decided after a moment, “so they would have to be limited to necessary use.”
“So we could have used one of those to get Ilyana back to New Querna?” Spin asked.
“If I’m right,” Twist replied. “Would you really want to use an unknown device just to see what it does?”
“Um,” Spin thought about it. If he were to be honest with himself, he probably would have had Twist not been there to point out the danger. She had just made his earlier point for him. He might be more inventive, but she was a theoretical genius and had a much deeper understanding of magic than he ever would. “No, probably not,” he replied at last. “Well, the sky is starting to lighten. Shall we stay up to greet the dawn?”
“Let’s.”
“I have been thinking,” Mila told the others as they approached New Querna, “that it might be wise to cancel the rest of the tour.”
“No,” Ilyana replied simply.
“Consider,” Mila insisted, “there have been two serious attempts on your life. We do not know who was responsible for the first, but the second was almost certainly the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim. I think that argues they may have been behind the car bomb as well.”
“Car bombs are more of an Eldist tactic,” Spin commented, “but anyone can plant a bomb, I should think, and the Sons and Daughters have a history of trying to pass the blame on to others. They tried to make their abduction of Lord Dathan of Horalia look like the work of Green Maiyim.”
“Green Maiyim would never have done that!” Ilyana replied hotly. “Oh they do some foolish things like trying to block the path of a nuclear-powered ship with a few small yachts, but they practice passive resistance.”
“No argument from me,” Spin agreed, “but the Sons and Daughters planted evidence linking the attack to Green Maiyim anyway. The way it was explained to me is that had they been successful, it would have forced Royal Emmine to break diplomatic ties with Methiscia, who had recently recognized Green Maiyim. In turn, it is likely Granom would have been forced to choose between Emmine and Methiscia. Since Granom has always treated Methiscia as a favorite daughter, the likelihood is that at the very least relations between Emmine and Granom would have cooled. It might well have ruined the alliance for that matter.”
“Yes, I think you’re right,” Ilyana admitted. “My grandfather would never have abandoned our ties with Methiscia and that would have driven a wedge between us and Emmine, but couldn’t it have been Bellinen and not the Sons and Daughters. You have to admit that Bellinen would have the most to gain if the Granom-Emmine alliance fell apart.”
“True,” Spin nodded, “but we are fairly certain that President Wonitawa of Bellinen is either a high-ranking member of the Sons and Daughters or one of their shills. Either way, anything that benefits Bellinen will be in keeping with what the Sons and Daughters want.”
“Your death, Highness,” Mila cut in, “could be used to break up the Granom-Emmine alliance too. After all, you are not only protected by Oceanvine’s Girls but by two master mages from Emmine.”
“I seriously doubt that is what anyone has in mind this time,” Ilyana denied. “It is too much of a stretch. My death could just as easily bring Emmine and Granom closer together, but it would leave the throne of Granom in contention. The chaos that could ensue would certainly hurt Granum.”
“Then you agree we should go back to Querna?” Mila pressed.
“Of course not!” Ilyana denied vehemently. “That too would serve the agenda of the Sons and Daughters. I will not be forced to take refuge behind the walls of the Wurra on account of them. This is supposed to be a good will trip. I must continue on to achieve what my grandfather desires.”
Mila was quiet a long time, then finally as Dusya brought the hopper down into the hotel parking lot, she replied, “Very well, Your Highness. We continue, but first we must get past the gentlemen and ladies of the press. They seem to be clustered around the front door of hotel.”
“Does the hotel have a helipad?” Twist asked.
“I don’t see one in the parking lot,” Dusya replied, “but there might be one on the roof.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Twist replied. “Let’s find out.” She reached into Spin’s shirt pocket and pulled out the golden pencil-staff. “This will make it much easier,” she explained to him.
Spin grinned at her. “We were told to share it,” he reminded her. A moment later the hopper lifted vertically into the air and continued upward until it was slightly higher than the roof of the hotel. Spin looked out the window and saw the familiar round painted lines that marked off a landing pad for a helicopter. “Good guess!” he told Twist.
Twist grinned in reply and guided the flying vehicle into a soft landing in the middle of the pad. “I suppose we could have used wards to force our way through all the reporters,” she commented as she opened the door beside her, “but avoiding them altogether is easier.” Once everyone was out of the hopper, Twist levitated it back down to the parking lot. Then the five of them entered the hotel’s elevator and rode down one floor to where the Princess had been staying.”
“I have appointments today,” Ilyana told them. “I may already be late for the first one.”
“I think we will have to issue a statement to the Press as well,” Mila admitted. “We kept the last incident quiet, but this one was already in the news by the time Spinnaker returned to New Querna.”
“I will have my secretary schedule a press conference as soon as it can be fitted in to my schedule,” Ilyana replied in a businesslike tone. “Have you let grandfather know I was well?”
“Last night, Your Highness,” Mila replied. “I sent word before leaving New Querna last night.”
“It is said Countess Ksanya could control her null magic field,” Ilyana noted. “Wish I could. I cannot even use a hand-held phone. I should call Grandfather as soon as we reach the room.” She paused a moment, then continued. “Oh dear! If I knew where I was supposed to be this morning, we could have gone directly.”
“Uh,” Twist interrupted, pointing at what the princess was wearing. “Blouse and jeans was fine when we were building houses, but no matter what you’re scheduled for this morning, you are probably not dressed appropriately.”
“Hmm,” Ilyana considered that. “Too bad, but I think you are correct. Well, here’s my room. Let’s find out what’s next.”
They spent another week in New Querna without incident although the members of Ilyana’s Press following kept asking for more details concerning her kidnapping which was downplayed as a minor incident that had been quickly and efficiently handled by royal security. The reporters were not satisfied with that description and came up with their own scenarios much wilder than reality. After discussing the matter it was decided to stick with the story as it had been given in the first conference following the abduction. The facts as they had been stated were true even if certain details had been omitted.
Finally, Ilyana met with the President of Methiscia for the final two days of her visit to that nation. It was announced the discussion had been lively and convivial although privately Ilyana admitted they had rarely discussed anything of political interest. “That’s what I expected, of course,” The princess admitted to Twist. “Had we planned to discuss anything of real importance, we would have met on my first day in New Querna or possibly on Fid.”
“I had wondered about that,” Twist nodded. “Would your Grandfather have met the president only on his last day here had this been his trip?”
“It’s hard to say,” Ilyana replied. “Normally I would say not, but the point of meeting with the president at the end of my stay here, was to demonstrate Granom’s willing and happy acceptance that Methiscia is a free and independent state and that we do not expect Methiscian leaders to bow to us should we happen to pay a state visit. Grandfather is the king, of course, so perhaps he and the president might have met immediately, but then perhaps there would have been a delay even so. However, I think grandfather would have come to New Querna first.”
“So why didn’t you?” Twist asked.
“Given my preferences, I think I would have,” Ilyana admitted, “but I didn’t have a lot of say in my itinerary. It was all decided months ago in negotiation between the respective Ministers of State and their people. I think they started planning this trip even before I knew about it. That’s life as a princess, I fear. Well, this concludes my trip to Methiscia. I think we can relax a little for the next few stops. They’ll be in Granom. The rest of the tour will be in Granom, except for the grand finale in Rjalkatyp.”
The Island of Sinid was the site of the most famous historical incident on Maiyim. It was there, over four hundred years earlier, that the Treaty of Sinid had been signed that brought the Great War between Granom and Bellinen to an end. It also firmly established in the minds of most people that mages could not be forced into a war.
According to the history books, the Great War had begun in the year 2136 and continued until 2161, but had actually been the culmination of four centuries of prolonged warfare between the two archipelagos. During those four centuries, most battles were little more than raids on coastal towns. However, there were major battles on land and at sea throughout the period. Emmine, the major neutral party worked hard to establish an armistice throughout the period, but no agreements held for more than a year or two before the Granomen and Orenta renewed hostilities.
Mages attempted to hold themselves aloof during the conflict. A layman might not understand, but a trained mage understood far too well that aggressive and destructive magic could have far-reaching effects. Even so, journeymen and masters had been conscripted by both sides and the King of Granom and the Senate of Bellinen had required the teaching of offensive magic in their respective universities.
Finally, in 2161, during the Battle of Sinid, the Wizard Crossreed, a human who had been hired as a war consultant by Warlord Damowä of Bellinen, looked upon the carnage of that last great battle. According to his memoirs he became violently ill when he saw what he was doing. He met in secret with his counterpart, the Granomish Master Swageblock and together they agreed to suspend all magical activities associated with warfare. Without their mages to back them up both Damowä and King Ksaveras VII were forced to withdraw their troops. Swageblock was assassinated that night, possibly at his king's command. Crossreed, however, survived a similar attempt on his life and used his magic to bring both the king and warlord together in a small, one-room building in a rundown section of Carlifa, leagues away from either of their armies. This was the first recorded case of translocation and it is assumed to have been Crossreed’s invention although he never taught the technique to any of his students.
Translocation was now a well-understood spell although it was still considered advanced magic and restricted to mages with master and wizard degrees. The major problem with translocation was that there was a large backlash of magical energy that would cause living subjects to lose consciousness when translocated. In order to use the spell without the so-called “jump-shock” a mage had to have a way to absorb the excess energy before it could wash back on the subject. Spin had used the golden staff to accomplish that. Twist’s wooden staff might handle the overload once, but it was likely to be burned to ashes in the process, possibly taking her hands along with it. The mysterious devices they had found on the kidnappers probably accomplish the same thing by partially nullifying the excess energy. If so, tranlocation could become a far more useful spell, and also one more likely to be abused. These devices also explained , long after the fact, why mages working for the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim had been able to translocate without suffering from the customary shock.
Spin had once asked how that could be reconciled with the Law of Conservation of Matter and Energy. “You can’t just make the energy go away,” he had argued with Methis.
“Of course you can’t,” Methis had replied, a smile on her lips. “The energy must be redirected in some way. It’s just very hard to do without the golden staff.”
With General Damowä and King Ksaveras VII trapped in a single room by Wizard Crossreed, they eventually produced the document that became known as the Treaty of Carlifa, although it took Crossreed three weeks to convince them he was serious about keeping them there and then another three weeks to agree on the terms. All the while their two armies sat nervously across from each other on a wide field some leagues away.
The treaty did not actually call for the cessation of hostilities, but the leaders did agree to withdraw their armies from Sinid peacefully and to recognize each other’s right to exist. It also established permanent embassies in each other’s capital cities. The treaty also established fair, but reasonably regulated trade between their nations. The war might have gone on for another four centuries, but it did not.
“I was here eleven years ago on the Tetracentenial of the Treaty,” Ilyana mentioned as they rode through the streets of Carlifa in yet another parade. Then her face grew sad. “I was here with my parents. Little Veras hadn’t even been conceived yet and we came here with Grandfather. It was such a happy time for all of us.” She sighed. “You know about my parents and brother, of course.”
“It was a plane crash wasn’t it?” Twist recalled.
“I was in University, but they were on their way home from Merinne,” Ilyana explained. “They had gone on a diplomatic mission, kind of like the one we’re on now, but maybe even more important. They were trying to warm relations between Granom and Bellinen. We think there was a bomb on their plane. It just suddenly disappeared while over the Sea of Aritos. Not much of it was found and their bodies were never recovered. It’s funny don’t you think?”
“Not especially,” Twist replied. She felt the tears in her own eyes. They matched the ones threatening to spill from Ilyana’s.
“I mean it’s odd what sort of things that bring back memories like this,” Ilyana explained. She sighed again but before she could continue, there was a disturbance just ahead. People were shouting something in unison but it did not sound like cheering.
Mila and Dusya had been walking beside the car, but now they ran ahead to see what was happening. Twist had already been maintaining a ward around the car in collaboration with Spin who was riding in the car just behind them. Twist could feel Spin adding extra power into the ward, making it stronger than ever. Meanwhile, the parade continued forward.
Mila came running back a minute later. “It’s a protest, Your Highness,” she reported.
“What are they protesting?” Ilyana wondered.
“They want us to intervene in Saindo, Your Highness,” Mila replied. “They seem peaceful enough, but they would like to speak with you.”
“During the parade?” Ilyana asked. “That would be disruptive to say the least. Would they be willing to meet this evening? I’ll be glad to give them as much time as they desire.”
Mila turned and faced the protestors who were now standing patiently behind the police line but along side the Princess’ car. The guard spoke to the leader of the protestors and he nodded in response. A cheer went up through the mass of protestors.
“I think you can take that as a yes, Ilyana,” Twist told her dryly.
“Privately, I agree with them,” Ilyana admitted, continuing to wave to the crowd. “I wish we could just go in there and straighten the Saindans out. Somebody ought to.”
“They ought to straighten themselves out,” Twist replied. “It doesn’t matter who goes in there, if the people who live there don’t stand up for themselves, nothing will really be fixed.”
“We would have to be there for the long haul,” Ilyana admitted. “To teach them they can help themselves.”
“I wish you were right,” Twist replied, “but I don’t agree. I think you would just be replacing one imposed government with another.”
“Isn’t that what Emmine proposed a few years ago?” Ilyana countered.
“I doubt that would have worked even if Bellinen hadn’t blocked us from going in,” Twist replied. “We actually were on the way, you know. We had two groups of ships headed in to establish the peace.”
“And Bellinen threw a tantrum in the International Congress,” Ilyana recalled. “I remember that. Grandfather was so angry. He was already negotiating with King Othon to send a task force as well, but Bellinen started making threats.”
She said the same thing that evening to the leaders of the protesters, “So you see it’s not just a matter of going on in and making everything rosy for the Saindans. We have Bellinen and her allies in the International Congress to consider.”
“I think we need to go in with a non-military solution, Your Highness,” one of the protesters suggested that evening, “rather than go in with the Army and Navy we need to go in with teachers and doctors.
Princess Ilyana responded, “A good friend of mine reminded me just today, that this would not be the first time that has been tried either. Have you ever heard of the Emmine Friendship Corps? No? Well, they were disbanded over a century ago, so I’m not surprised, but they did pretty much what you’re suggesting and I think they had a positive effect for a while, but the situation deteriorated into active warlordism and they were forced to evacuate.”
“That would have been before they had any form of central government that could keep the peace, right, Your Highness?” another man asked. “They have a central government now. It would be different.”
“The Eldist government has repeatedly said they do not want uninvited outside interference,” Ilyana retorted.
“Well, that’s a load,” he responded unthinkingly and then added, “Your Highness,” belatedly.
Ilyana laughed, “It is a very large load. As you know, Bellinen has not only an embassy but troops that keep the peace on the streets of Mati and Saindo City. A few volunteer Gronomen or humans might be able to enter the archipelago, but I think they would run a genuine risk or running afoul of the Eldist government.”
“Yes, that happened just last year,” the first protesting leader admitted. “Three people from Emmine were arrested and jailed on trumped up charges. As far as I know they are still rotting in one of the local prison farms.”
“See?” Ilyana nodded, “and if we go in as a government-sponsored effort it is likely to start a war. What’s the solution? They discussed the matter for another hour, but had to admit that at the moment there was no really good non-debatable solution.
“I’m not convinced, Your Highness,” one of the leaders said at last. “There has to be a way to help the people of Saindo.”
“And I hope we can find it,” Ilyana replied. “Look, I thank you all for speaking out the way you have. Freedom of speech is one of our greatest national treasures and I like the fact that you were able to exercise it politely and peacefully. Personally, I agree with you. Something is going to have to be done in Saindo eventually, but I don’t honestly know what it is. The problem, as I think you have come to see, is in the international political situation. This is an issue that is debated frequently in the International Congress but we are currently deadlocked.”
“Then perhaps we need to exert leverage on the International Congress,” a protester suggested.
Yeah, good luck with that! Ilyana thought silently. Aloud, she told them, “Your voices speaking out so publically strengthen Granom’s mission within the International Congress and that of our allies. Thank you. I am not sure that this celebration was the most appropriate venue for your protest, however. You managed to get my attention, but no matter how we accomplish what you want it is going to put us further in opposition to Bellinen. Today we are celebrating the treaty that ended four centuries of warfare between us and Bellinen. I think we would all hate for the Treaty of Sinid to turn out to be related to a new Great War.”
“We could demonstrate outside the next meeting of the International Congress on Fehl,” One of the protestors suggested. “It would speak to all the delegates, not just our own.”
“Bellinen police arrest demonstrators,” another protester, a woman, pointed out, “especially dissidents.”
“We must be careful to break no laws,” the first leader pointed out.
“They can manufacture charges to suit them, you know,” the woman argued, “and we would be foreign agitators.”
“I have friends at the University at Merinne,” one of the others commented. “They’re Orenta, but they’re no happier about what’s going on in Saindo than we are.”
“My cousin is in Rjalkatyp,” yet another volunteered. Still another said he had two friends in the University at Randona and by the time they left they had plans for a truly international demonstration.
From Sinid they traveled on to Barmeport where they stayed several days, touring an arts festival and the Barme Institute of History before moving on to Tresa on the island of Nentre. On Nentre they were the guests of the local baron in his home in the city. It was an older building that had been constructed following the Great War by the same architects who rebuilt Querna. Consequently the baron’s home looked like a slightly smaller version of the Wurra Palace, faced with pink granite with crenelated walls capped with magically constructed blocks of perfect smoky quartz.
Ilyana had several events to attend in Tresa, the most important of which was their annual flower and garden show. Tresa was the most important center of the florist and gardening industries in Granom and it was here that most new breeds were introduced before being sent all around the world. While most of the presenters were local to Nentre, a good quarter of them came from The Isle of Fire, Ellisto, Emmine and even Wennil to show off their newest products at the Tresa Show.
Just as at the fair in Farmist, Ilyana was a celebrity judge in the flower show although flowers were an interest of hers so she felt far more at ease this time around. The show lasted for two weeks, but the judging of entries only took up three days, giving the presenters ample time to sell and trade to the public and among themselves.
When Ilyana’s part in the show was over, Baron Nentre hosted a party in her honor. It was a splendid affair with nearly four hundred guests, nobles and the super-rich from Nentre and several nearby islands. However, just before midnight, Mila found Twist and Spin and informed them, “Her Highness has slipped off again.”
“I don’t believe this,” Spin commented sourly. “Does the girl never learn?”
“I did my research this time,” Mila told them, ignoring Spin’s comment. “The Baron’s son is a known playboy all over the archipelago, so I looked up his favorite haunts when at home.”
“Are they together?” Twist asked.
“Dusya and I think so,” Mila nodded. “At least he seems to have left the party as well. Dusya is already out with several of the Girls, looking for the princess. I expect to hear from one of them shortly.”
“Then just drag her back here,” Spin suggested, “in chains if necessary.”
“Tempting as that is, we cannot embarrass Her Highness,” Mila told them.
“I can,” Spin retorted, “without any qualms whatsoever.”
“I would rather you found a more subtle way to bring her back,” Mila replied. “We must not injure the dignity of the throne.”
“The throne can survive it,” Spin shot back, “but I doubt Ksaveras would be particularly happy if anything happened to Ilyana because we were too worried about his dignity.”
“I tend to agree,” Twist told them, “but I think we can handle this quickly and without chipping the paint job on Cousin Veras’ furniture.” She reached into her purse and pulled out one of the tech-magic devices they had found on the kidnappers on Troba. “Mila, you sent the other two back to Querna, but I haven’t sent this one to my Mom in Olen yet. We should be able to translocate even Ilyana with this thing’s help.”
“What about not using a tech magic device of unknown properties,” Spin countered.
“I’ve been studying this a bit myself,” Twist maintained. “I don’t know the long term effect of overusage, but if the kidnappers could use them several times in one evening I can use it once.”
Mila’s comm unit sounded just then. “We found them,” she told the mages a few moments later. They hurried out of the baron’s home and into a waiting car. The car was the normal Granomish type with tires that stayed on the ground and rumbled as they drove over the courtyard’s cobblestones.
“If it is the baron’s son she is out with,” Spin commented to Mila, “we’ll have to be careful. He could be the next king of Granom.”
“All the Gods forbid!” Mila swore vehemently. “I seriously doubt it. His Majesty has the final say over who Her Highness may marry and while he has been a doting grandfather – maybe a bit too doting, if you ask me – it is not likely he will be so permissive as to leave the realm in the hands of that one. His reputation is, shall we say, notorious. Frankly, I’m surprised Her Highness is spending any time with him at all. She is not the sort to want to share her boyfriend or husband and that one will cheat on his wedding night.”
“Eww!” Twist wrinkled her nose.
Mila looked at her. “Lady Islandtwist, you are a strange one.”
“I’m not a lady,” Twist replied, “but what makes you think so?”
“In Granom all mages of journeyman rank and higher are granted the title lord or lady by courtesy. It’s a bit archaic and rarely done these days except in the court, but it seemed appropriate just now. In any case you are a bit strange to me. You do things with magic that tie my guts in knots, if you must know, and yet a small thing like infidelity nauseates you?”
“Why yes,” Twist nodded. “It does. I’m an old-fashioned sort myself. Marriage is supposed to be an exclusive relationship and it is for keeps. Yes, I have friends who see fit to dissolve their marriages every few years – that’s their business – but I have no intention of doing that with Spin.”
“And that suits me just fine,” Spin added. “Twist is right, even in a trial marriage there is no room for cheating.”
“I don’t disagree,” Mila admitted, “but it happens, right?”
“It happens,” Twist agreed, “but I don’t have to approve and if this Andrei of Nentre is what one of my ancestors would have called a ‘player,’ I think he leaves a slime trail. I do agree, however, that he would not be a good choice for king.”
“How do you know that?” Mila asked. “You haven’t met him.”
“I did briefly when we first arrived in Tresa,” Twist pointed out, “but unlike the Emmine royal family, the House of Granova has mostly avoided that sort of controversy over the centuries.”
“There have been occasional incidents,” Mila corrected her.
“That somehow did not make it into the history books,” Twist countered. “None of the Kings have cheated on their queens, have they?”
“No,” Mila shook her head. “The king has always been above reproach; at least once he was married. Some of the princes, on the other hand, but I see what you are getting at. We have never had a monarch who couldn’t keep his pants on, so to speak. I think we’re here.”
They climbed out of the car and found Dusya and two others of the Oceanvine’s Girls company who usually stayed unseen in the background. “I think we’re going to have to respect Her Highness’ privacy much less from here on,” Dusya told Mila.
“That’s our failure,” Mila replied. “We should have already taken steps after New Querna. It will not happen again. Starting now, I want at least one or two of us to have her in sight around the clock, even when she is sleeping.”
“She will not permit us in her room,” Dusya remarked.
“Then don’t tell her about the camera,” Mila shot back.
To Dusya’s credit, she did not ask, “What camera?” as it was obvious she understood they would be planting one in Ilyana’s rooms as the progress continued. “How do you want to handle this?” Dusya asked instead.
“We’ll do it,” Twist told her. “We will translocate the two of them directly back to the baron’s home. I will have to get close to Ilyana though.”
“Do you want this staff?” Spin asked holding the golden staff toward her.
“I won’t need it to absorb jump-shock, but you will,” Twist told him. “I’ll get the princess, you can handle Andrei and either Mila or Dusya. Everyone else can return to whatever your normal positions are the moment we leave. I’d say to go now, but something can always go wrong.”
“We have people at the back door, in case they try to go that way,” Dusya informed them.
“Good,” Twist nodded. “Let’s do this.”
Spin nodded and they entered the nightclub to which Ilyana and Andrei had been followed. It was dark inside with only a mass of moving brightly colored spotlights for illumination. The band was loud and there were dozens of couples on the dance floor. Spin held Twist back for a minute while their eyes adjusted to the chaotic lighting. “I see them on the dance floor,” he shouted over the music.
“Darn!” Twist replied just as loudly. “I was hoping to catch them in a booth or at a table.”
“No problem!” Spin told her and started pushing his way toward the wayward couple. Against dancing Granomen that was not easy. Granomen were, on the average, much stronger than humans and he was forced to resort to a personal ward to keep from getting bruised, if not actually having bones broken accidentally. In formal settings Granomish dances were usually stately and gentle, but the younger Granomen evidently preferred more frenetic activity.
Finally, Spin managed to get into position behind Andrei while Twist sidled up beside Ilyana. Spin tapped the shorter Andrei on the shoulder and asked, “Mind if I cut in?” He was uncertain the baron’s son had actually heard him over the din, but the tap on his shoulder had obviously gained his attention. A moment later he disappeared and Ilyana, looking shocked, found herself facing Spin’s crooked grin. In the next instant, Twist took Ilyana’s arm and they both translocated with a small clap of thunder that Spin could hear and feel over the loud music. His own translocation of Andrei had not created as much disturbance because he had been careful to fill the vacuum left by Andrei’s disappearance with air from the room to which he had sent him.
The music and dancing stopped in the wake of the thunderclap and Spin used the distraction to get off the dance floor quickly. He ran into Mila and Dusya just inside the club door and quickly translocated them and himself back to the suite of rooms Ilyana had been given in the baron’s house.
“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Ilyana was shouting at Islandtwist as Spin, Mila and Dusya arrived.
“Getting you out of there and back to safety, Your Highness,” Twist replied acidly. “And what the hell did you think you were doing, sneaking off like that again? After what happened in New Querna I cannot believe you would be so reckless!”
“I needed some time to relax,” Ilyana replied.
“Wrong answer!” Twist told her.
“You have no idea what it’s like!” Ilyana shouted back as her. “Always on display, always having to uphold the family honor, always having to be oh so perfect.”
“Really?” Twist retorted venomously, “I don’t? You, Princess, are descended from a mere seventeen kings. I, on the other hand, am descended from dozens of the most famous wizards Maiyim has ever known and I am expected to be every bit as good and better than they were. You want to talk about pressure? You try living with Wizards Silverwind, Oceanvine, Candle, Oceanvine, Sextant, Saltspray, Glassblade, Starlight, Farseer, Aster and at least as many more setting your minimum standard of success.”
“You said ‘Oceanvine’ twice,” Ilyana pointed out.
“There were two of them,” Twist shot back, “each of whom were considered the best in their times. My ancestors, Silverwind and Candle were the only humans granted the rank of Marquess in Granom. Oceanvine the Younger founded the school I teach in. All the humans who have ever been inducted into the Granomish Order of the Silver Stay are in my family tree. Oceanvine the Elder was the sister of your ancestress, Princess Ksana of Northmarket. That’s why you consider me kin. My ancestors Oceanvine the Younger and Sextant were the first of the new wizards. Candle was the last of the old wizards. And Silverwind… Can you seriously tell me any of your Ksaverases are harder to be compared to than Silverwind the Great?
“I can keep going,” Twist continued. “Saltspray was the longest sitting Head of the Magical Studies Department in Randona. Glassblade invented the basic spells still used in modern comm units. Starlight…”
“Enough!” Ilyana told her. “Enough. Okay, you win. Maybe you do understand what it is like. How do you stand the pressure?”
“By doing my best to be even better than I am expected to be,” Twist told her. “And I do it because even though my family might forgive me if I failed, I would not unless I knew deep in my heart I had done my very best. And if I didn’t try my very best I would betray not only my family but myself. So tell me, how can you stand not to try your best?”
Ilyana had no answer to that. She was still staring wordlessly at Islandtwist a minute later when Andrei, lying on the floor nearby, groaned and tried to sit up. “What did you do to Andrei?” Ilyana asked.
“Same thing Twist did to you,” Spin replied, “but I didn’t have that fancy device. So the baron’s son got the full effect of translocation jump-shock.”
“You could have killed him,” Ilyana accused.
“I doubt that,” Spin shrugged. “He’s young and healthy. Even a man your father’s age is likely to survive the experience.”
“He could have had a weak heart,” Ilyana pointed out.
“He doesn’t,” Spin countered. “The greatest risk in jump-shock is the fact you are helpless at the far end of your jump.”
“Why didn’t you pass out then?” Ilyana demanded.
“I am very good,” Spinnaker replied.
Just then Mila’s comm unit sounded and she answered it. “Garensk,” she answered. “Where? Did you take him alive? Damn. All right. You know what to do.”
“That doesn’t sound like good news,” Spin commented.
“It’s not,” Mila replied. “Your Highness, you owe us all an apology. We found a sniper waiting for you just a block away from that club. Had you come back here on foot, or maybe in a car, he would have killed you.”
“What?” Ilyana asked, shocked.
“Sons and Daughters?” Spin asked seriously.
“An Eldist,” Mila replied, “or so we think from the religious mumbo jumbo he was shouting when he was arrested. The point is, he was waiting for the Princess to come walking by. Fortunately, we all took a shortcut. Princess, this tour is becoming far too dangerous. I urge you to end it and return to Querna.”
Ilyana was silently regarding Andrei who was now fully conscious and sitting up on the floor. “They are right, Ilyana,” he added. “You must be protected.”
“No,” the princess replied at last. “Grandfather and I expected danger. “Mila, Dusya, you both know that. It is why we asked for Cousins Islandtwist and Spinnaker to help us. What we are doing is too important to stop now.”
“What?” Andrei protested, “Judging flower shows and other contests? Sitting in parades? This is more important than your life?”
“The activities I am engaged in do not matter,” Ilyana told him. “Being here in the Kingdom, meeting Grandfather’s subjects face-to-face is. For those who meet me, the Royalty are no longer a small elitist family living in the Wurra palace. We are real people who love Granom and those who live here. Andrei, being royal is not just a super form of being noble. It comes with responsibilities and the duty to give your life for the kingdom and its people. Mila, Dusya, We shall continue my progress across Granom and then to the most important stop of all, Rjalkatyp.”
“What is so important about the Isle of Fire?” Andrei asked. “It is not part of Granom.”
“No, but they have a new president of their Senate,” Ilyana explained, “and for a change he is not as enchanted by Bellinen as his predecessors were. There is a chance we can convince him to side with Granom and Emmine in certain upcoming votes.”
“Then why not fly directly there, have your chat and come home?” Andrei asked skeptically.
“It does not work that way,” Ilyana explained. “International politics is all about appearances. I need to appear to be just coming in for a visit following my tour of Granom and Methiscia. That won’t fool anyone, of course, and it is not supposed to, but my main stated purpose at the moment is to tour Granom. If I cancel the tour, Granom loses prestige in the world. Not enough to lose our current allies, but the small nations of the world will take notice and vote against us when the time comes.”
“So what?” Andrei laughed. “It’s just the International Congress. They don’t really have any power over their sovereign members.”
“It’s not Granom I am worried for, Andrei,” Ilyana told him heatedly. “It is all Maiyim. Do you know what is happening in Saindo right now?”
“Yeah,” Andrei laughed. “The Eldists are in charge again. I give them another year or two and that government will collapse again to be replaced by the next bunch who can grab power.”
“Don’t be so certain,” Ilyana retorted. “The Eldists rule by their religious laws, but you are right about one thing. It does not matter which Saindan power group takes over, it is going to be bad for the Saindans. Did you know that ninety-five percent of all Saindans are living no better than beggars? Worse than the beggars in Granom. We have a dozen charities to support the homeless and out-of-luck; soup kitchens, warm places to sleep, a chance to learn a new skill. Not enough avail themselves of those things, but at least we are trying. The only ones a Saindan government has ever served were the people on top. We are so much better off and it is our duty to do what we can to help those people. That is what the International Congress is supposed to be for, but right now Bellinen and their allies would like to keep things as they are. Why? Because it benefits their political agenda to maintain the status quo. There was a time when charity organizations could go to Saindo and do what they could. Now they are refused entry most of the time and when allowed in they are persecuted by the government until they leave. If the people of Saindo were not being kept so wretched I would probably not care so much, but these are unfortunates who have never experienced what we take for granted; good food, reliable power, clean water, freedom of speech and thought. These are all things denied to the average Saindan.”
“That’s it?” Andrei laughed. “You pity the poor Saindans? That’s why you’re out judging dog shows and kissing babies?”
“You really don’t understand, do you?” Ilyana replied sadly. “It is not just the Saindans. It is all of Granom. It is all of Maiyim.”
“The time may come when all Maiyim must stand together,” Spin told him seriously.
“That will be the day!” Andrei laughed.
“Leave us, Andrei,” Ilyana told him with quiet coldness. “We have work to do.” The baron’s son stared at her for a long moment then shrugged carelessly and strolled out of the room. “I cannot believe I found him charming last night,” Ilyana spoke into the silence. “All right. I meant what I said, however. We must continue on. We have the dog show here for the next two days and then on to Palsondir.”
“I am going to call in the remainder of all active Oceanvine’s Girls, Your Highness,” Mila informed her.
“I thought you were all here already,” Ilyana remarked.
“Only about half of us, and only Mila and I have been visible,” Dusya added, “Disguised as your companions.”
“But you have been my companions,” Ilyana replied. “As much so as Spinnaker and Twist or my personal secretary. I may not have been so foolish, perhaps, had my usual companions joined us though. Ladies Giselle and Margotte do not hesitate to advise me against a foolish course of action. I think perhaps you and Mila have actually been too deferential and I have not consulted Cousins Twist and Spin frequently enough.”
“You want us to argue with you?” Mila asked, somewhat astonished.
“I cannot say I want you to argue,” Ilyana laughed, “but perhaps if I am being unwise it would be best if you spare no words to tell me as much.”
“I am thinking,” Mila considered, “that Dusya and I ought to get back into uniform. This masquerade as ladies of the court does not seem to be working. You do not seem as well-protected as you ought to be.”
“But then I would need to send for Giselle and Margotte,” Ilyana pointed out. “However a more visible presence of your sisters might be in order.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Mila replied. “I will see to that immediately.”
“Thank you,” Ilyana told her. “Now would it be all right if I speak in private to my cousins?” Mila and Dusya nodded and left the room. Ilyana waited until their soft footsteps could be heard walking down the hallway. “I’m scared,” she admitted to Twist and Spin. In a moment she went from the poised, self-confident seeming young women to a lost child. “I’ve never been so frightened in all my life.”
“That’s understandable, Ilyana,” Twist replied. “As the princess you have always been kept sheltered from the dangers you are now experiencing. I would be more worried if you were not scared.”
“You would?”
“It would mean you were too naïve to even realize there was any danger,” Twist explained.
“But this is not the first time I have traveled,” Ilyana pointed out. “The danger is something I have been brought up to respect, but it never seemed real until those people kidnapped me in New Querna.”
“Then why did you go out with Andrei tonight?” Twist asked.
“Because I’m a damned fool,” Ilyana admitted. “I thought I was defying the possible dangers, well I told myself that anyway. And I really did want to just be like anyone else for just an evening. That’s never going to happen is it?”
“Ilyana, if I could, I would clothe you in an illusion so complete that your Grandfather would not know you,” Twist told her, “and you would be able to travel without being recognized, but I cannot.”
“No nights off for the princess,” Ilyana sighed. “I think I’ve always known that.”
“But there are compensations,” Spin pointed out. “You do not just live in the palace. I understand you have a summer home and several other fabulous estates all around the archipelago. When not actively serving Granom you could take refuge in any of those places, and I do think that most of your people truly love you.”
“Do they?” Ilyana asked softly.
“Well, I wouldn’t want that going to your head,” Spin laughed, “but yes. So far you have been attacked by the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim and the Eldists, but there has been only cheering for you as you progressed past the normal folk of the kingdom. Remember that farmer in Farmist? The one who gave you those tomatoes? He didn’t have to, you know. He did so because he truly respected you and your family and those tomatoes were the best way he had to show it.”
“I know there have been many other gifts along the way too,” Twist commented. “Spin and I have had to scan some of them. People don’t give gifts to people they don’t like.”
“People have always given gifts to royalty,” Ilyana pointed out. “It has nothing to do with being loved. I can’t even go shopping without having anything I admire thrust on me. I love shopping. Back in University I managed to slip out with a couple of classmates and got to shop like a normal woman. Do you have any idea how wonderful it was to search for something that was just right and then be able to pay for it with real money? Now when I go out, it’s with a whole entourage and I’m afraid to admire anything for fear that the shopkeeper would feel obligated to make it a gift. And then there are those people who feel the royalty are sponging off the people. They say we live in luxury paid for by the taxes of Granom and never spend money of our own. We aren’t allowed to spend our own money on hardly anything, so we donate it to whatever charities seem most deserving.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Twist shrugged.
“Of course not,” Ilyana agreed, “but Grandfather is one of the richest men in the world, and all he can do with all that money is give it away. There was a fire at the Summer Palace on Khordel a few years ago. It wasn’t too bad. The servants there put it out after only a few rooms were destroyed although the smoke damage was everywhere. The news caught wind of it and the usual commentators made their snide remarks about how House Granova was going to have the people pay for the repairs.”
“I remember that,” Spin commented. “Didn’t the king deny there had been any damage?”
“Well, we couldn’t hide it all,” Ilyana replied. “The smoke had been seen for miles, so we could hardly deny the fire, but we claimed there had been only smoke damage and in a smaller part of the palace than actually occurred. That was the part Parliament insisted on paying for. Then Grandfather used his own money to pay for the rest, calling it remodeling and modernizing. But we shouldn’t have had to hide that, I think.”
“I notice you have shopping trips scheduled on Kiffa and again in Rjalkatyp,” Twist pointed out.
“The Kiffa trip will be one of those sprees in which I have to tread a fine line between praise and high admiration,” Ilyana remarked. “Shopkeepers will be pleased to give me anything I like and they will be hurt if I do not praise their wares, so I need to be careful to only admire things that it will not hurt them to give away, because all I have to give in return is a token that will prove I have shopped there, if you call that shopping.”
“A token?” Spin asked.
“It is a common practice in Emmine as well,” Twist told him. “The further from the capital you are the more highly prized they are. They are markers of a royal visit. I imagine there are some shops that may have tokens from several reigns on display although only a few businesses last that long.”
“I never noticed them,” Spin admitted.
“Either you have not gone shopping where the royalty have,” Twist smiled, “or you are just oblivious.”
“Both, probably,” Spin chuckled. “What about the shopping in Rjalkatyp. Seems to me leaving a token in a foreign country might not go over all that well.”
“I expect to pay for what I buy on the Isle of Fire,” Ilyana replied, “although I am told that tokens will be appreciated as thank-yous for service. Just so you understand, I do actually pay for quite a bit with my own money in Granom, but I generally have to send out one of my assistants to buy such things, or I order them to be delivered to the palace. It’s only when I am out going from store to store that I have to be careful.” She looked sad again. “Normally, of course, it should only be the king and queen who are treated that way, but grandmother died years ago and you know about my parents and brother. In the absence of a queen, the honor falls to me.”
“I have seen Princess Genvieve being given gifts on the Vid,” Twist remarked.
“I’m sure they are similar to those tomatoes in Farmist,” Ilyana replied. “I’ve met Genvieve several times and she’s a lovely woman. I’m not surprised that people in Emmine would like, maybe even love her for herself. Spontaneous gifts are something a beloved princess might get, but she is not treated like the queen when she walks into a shop.
“Well, cousins,” Ilyana concluded. “It has been a very long day. I have behaved badly. I have behaved like a spoiled brat, really and I am very sorry for the trouble I’ve made for you and for Oceanvine’s Girls. Further, you have saved my life once again and I thank you. I promise not to intentionally put myself in such a position again. Why don’t we all get some sleep now, though? Tomorrow is another long day.”
True to her word, Ilyana stopped trying to sneak away from her protectors and the next evening when Andrei suggested she join him at a party on the other side of the city she turned him down politely. When he persisted, she grew somewhat less polite and then went back to her work on a speech she planned to give the next morning before leaving for Palsondir.
It was snowing lightly in Palsondir City when they arrived just after Noon and Twist shivered as she stepped out of the port terminal. “We’re headed back into the winter,” Spin commented to her as Ilyana greeted the crowd, “and I think Nentre was experiencing uncommonly warm weather.”
“And I packed my winter coat,” Twist replied. “Well, that’s not really a problem. I’m a mage and I do have other ways to warm myself.” A moment later she looked more comfortable and Spin realized she has just used a spell to warm up her clothing.
The princess was whisked away from the airport to the opening ceremonies of an odd charity athletic event which she was both supporting financially and acting as a judge. The contestants were all in outlandish costumes of their own devising and were required to compete in various parodies of winter sports, such as skiing cross-country style along a track, wearing barrel staves for skis and of course, there was a snowball fight. As the next few days went on the contests became increasingly sillier, but the crowds and the contestants alike enjoyed them.
Ilyana spent much of her time in the judges’ box with two famous Vid stars who were as committed to the cause as she was although it was not until the second day that Spin thought to ask just what charity the event was in support of. “The Palsondir Clinic,” Ilyana explained. “It is the foremost teaching hospital and experimental medical facility on Maiyim. If not for the physical medicines that were developed here, as a magic-null, my life expectancy would have been half of what it is today. They have cured several forms of cancer – not just found ways to put them in remission, but totally and permanently eradicate them. Physicians come from all over the world to study here. It was here that the physical and magic-based medicine traditions were first married and since then so many miracle cures have been produced.”
The games finally concluded, but not Ilyana’s visit to Palsondir and her work for the clinic. She spent the next day reading to children there and visiting patients. The visit concluded with yet another press conference in which Ilyana stressed the value of the clinic and made an impassioned plea for donations.
The tour continued on Sahren where the Princess took part in a pastry contest. This stop turned out to be Twist’s favorite of the entire trip. None of the contestants produced the tiny filled-pastries she had enjoyed on Maiyim Bourne or the slightly larger variety that had been available at the Wurra, but the chance to sample so many unique and delicious sweet foods put her in heaven for the day.
“So, no dinner for you,” Spin laughed.
“I don’t care,” Twist replied, “even though I’ll have to starve and exercise for a week to work off what I ate today.”
“Rice cakes for you in the morning,” Spin advised.
“Ugh!”
A week later they were on Khordel Island, observing a more conventional contest of winter sports than they had experience on Palsondir, when Spin’s and Twist’s comm units sounded simultaneously. “Hi!” Maiyim’s voice greeted them. “Are you two anywhere near a Tri-Vee screen?”
“We’re watching a luge championship on Khordel,” Spin replied.
“I wondered what all the noise was,” Maiyim admitted.
“Maiyim, dear,” Twist cut in, “What do we need to see on a screen?”
“I think the Tzali are here,” Maiyim replied.
“What?” Twist asked reflexively.
“Really?” Spin asked at the same time, then caught himself. “Wait a moment. You only think they are here? We need to get to a Tri-Vee screen.”
“My comm has a small Tri-Vee display,” Twist admitted. “I’ve never had much use for it, but… Maiyim, what channel?”
“I’ll switch it for you,” Maiyim offered, “if you like.”
“You can do that remotely?” Twist asked.
“There is not a function on any Comm that cannot be controlled remotely,” Maiyim replied. “That was provided for in the National Security Act of 2503 in Emmine and Act XV-D-128.5 of the Granomish Actions of Parliament and it’s just been that way in Bellinen for the last century or more. I didn’t know about that either until Freddy told me. Of course it is also illegal to do that to someone’s phone without either their express permission or a court order. That’s why I asked first. Freddy has me do that for him all the time.”
“How are you and Freddy getting on?” Twist asked.
“Fine, Twist,” Maiyim replied, “but we can discuss that later. Let me switch to over to AllNews they are about to repeat the story.”
“All right,” Twist agreed “but give us a minute to find a quieter place. Dusya,” she spoke softly to the guard, “we’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t worry, the ward is still active.”
“Both of you?” Dusya asked.
“It can’t be helped,” Spin told her. “We won’t be far. I promise.”
They rushed from the observation box and down into a heated room with a wide glass picture window. The weather was cold, but the view was much better above so the room was empty at the moment. “Go ahead, Maiyim,” Twist told her as the mages sat to watch the mobile comm’s small screen.
“They’re in commercial right now,” Maiyim replied, “but… Oh here they are.”
Maiyim’s face was abruptly replaced by that of another woman who looked up at the camera and flashed a smile. “In space,” she reported cheerfully, “the Balance Observatory at Midbar City has reported the discovery of a large object at the outer edges of our solar system. Mark Theodolite, chief astronomer at the observatory tells us…”
“We think it might simply be a small comet with a higher than normal albido,” Astronomer Theodolite could be seen saying for the camera. “It is also approaching our system at a higher than normal velocity, but as it appears to be approaching from outside out system and not the cometary halo that surrounds our sun, that is not alarming either.”
“Doctor Theodolyte,” an interviewer asked. “You say it has a high albido. You mean that it is a very bright object?”
“Comparatively,” the astronomer replied. “By bright, I do not mean it is glowing with a light of its own, of course, but that it is reflecting more light than most suspected extra-system objects do. It might simply be covered with water or methane ice or be made of a very light material. We do not yet have our spectroscopic analysis finished. For all we know the object may simply be larger than our estimates. That far out a few miles across difference will still seem like a mere point. The larger it is, the more light will be reflected back at us and the brighter it will appear. The odd thing is that the brightness does not vary by very much, so either the object is very regular in shape, close to spherical, perhaps, or else is not rotating.”
“Would that be unusual?” the reported asked.
“Very,” Doctor Theodolite laughed. “It is not impossible, I suppose, but very unlikely for such an object to exhibit no spin at all. It is far more probable that it is so regular as to have nearly the same albido regardless of which side is facing us. We will know more as it gets closer.”
“So it is getting closer to Maiyim?” the reporter asked.
“Well,” the astronomer replied, “It is not on a collision course by any means. It might pass within ten astronomical units of Maiyim – an astronomical unit is the distance between Maiyim and the sun – and that’s close in interplanetary distances, but it is nothing to be alarmed about.”
“How long from now will that happen?” the reported pressed.
“Oh, over a year from now if our initial estimates of the size and velocity of the object at accurate,” Doctor Theodolite replied. “That is a very rapid approach and of course we might be completely wrong.”
“Thank you, Doctor Theodolite,” the anchor cut in, ending that news story. “In other news…” The picture winked out and Maiyim reappeared.
“What do you think?” Maiyim asked them.
“Could be anything,” Spin replied. “We should probably call Fireiron and see what she has to say on the subject.”
“Sounds like we have time,” Twist remarked, “and we should be back upstairs with Ilyana. Maiyim, please continue to monitor that story for us.”
“Of course, Twist,” Maiyim agreed. “When are you coming home?”
“It’s going to be a while, I fear,” Spin replied. “The princess’ progress is scheduled for at least six more weeks.”
“I miss our summers at sea,” Maiyim admitted.
“We’ll make it up to you somehow.” Spin promised.
“You just come home safely,” Maiyim told them both. “Freddy’s nice, but you are my captain and crew. It’s not the same when we’re not together.”
“We’ll be home as soon as we can, dear,” Twist told her. After they had disconnected, she asked Spin, “What do you think? About the news, that is?”
“Well the report did not say which direction the object is approaching from,” he pointed out. “It did not really tell us much of anything when you get right down to it. I think a spaceship probably would reflect more light than a common asteroid or comet. For that matter, I think it should be decelerating. When the scientists figure that out, we’ll know for sure.”
“If it is decelerating,” Twist asked, “shouldn’t it be coming in drive flames first?”
“Assuming their drives spurt out flames, perhaps,” Spin nodded. “We don’t know what sort of technology they use for crossing interstellar distances.”
“We could ask Fireiron or Artifice,” Twist replied. “They’ve told us other things about Tzali technology.”
“About their weapons and defenses,” Spin pointed out. “I’m not sure we need to know how their spaceships move around.”
“We should ask anyway,” Twist pointed out. “Even the Gods admit they are not omniscient. They are telling us what they think we need to know, but there may be gaps. We won’t know if we don’t ask and we’re the only ones who can ask.”
“Well, that’s true enough,” Spin agreed. “In a way I can’t wait for the Tzali to get here so we don’t have to keep what we know a secret.”
“If the Tzali behave as the Gods expect them to,” Twist shot back, “you may regret those words. I’m in no hurry for an interspecies war, especially one we may not win.”
“From what Artifice tells me,” Spin replied, “the best way to win is for neither side to fight in the first place, but we don’t seem to have that option open to us. You know I sometimes wonder if, knowing what I know now, I would have ever put Maiyim Bourne in the water when I found her.”
“I would like to think you would,” Twist told him.
“The person I am now would,” Spin nodded, “but I was a lot less sure of myself back then and was still not the most responsible guy to have to depend on. I grew up a lot before you met me and much more directly afterward. Your doing, you know. I doubt I would have ever tried to be a mage no matter how long I sailed Maiyim Bourne. And if anyone had told me I’d be preparing to fight a war with aliens from space I’d have laughed at them and bought them a drink and had a few myself.”
“You have told me that before,” Twist noted. “I don’t think I would have liked you then.”
“Can’t say as I blame you,” Spin nodded. “I didn’t like myself much either, but I do now and that counts for a lot. Hey, we had better get back up into the weather, but let’s call Fireiron and Artifice tonight.”
Neither Twist nor Spin found the time to call Methis and Aritos that evening, however. Following the sporting events, Princess Ilyana was invited to speak at a special athlete’s banquet and by the time that was over, the mages decided they could put off the call a little longer. The schedule remained full while on Khordel, but there were no security incidents during their stay and the only happening of note was the fact that the Earl of Khordel snubbed Ilyana’s efforts to meet with him.
“That was not a surprise,” she told Spin and Twist on the flight to Kiffa. “Grandfather has long suspected Khordel to be a high ranking member of the Sons and Daughters.”
“Maybe not so high-ranking,” Spin remarked.
“Why do you say that?” Ilyana asked.
“Whatever else they are, the Sons and Daughters are neither stupid nor particularly foolish. Well, not foolish by their own lights at least,” Spin replied. “It seems to me a member of their inner circle would have met with you if only to disguise his or her identity, or maybe they might have been interested in converting you to their cause. They probably would have chatted amiably while saying nothing the whole time. I would in their position. Remember, we do not really know who the inner circle is. The conspiracy theorists have a list of suspects based on the ones who show up to those supposedly annual meetings, but honestly there’s no reason they have to meet in person these days. Those meeting might be for some other purpose and not for the higher ups. For all we know the second tier of leaders might think they are the inner circle, but are secretly being led around by the true inner circle.
“Look at the politicians we think have been associated with the Sons and Daughters,” Spin went on. “You know. The ones who find a way to slip the phrase ‘New world order’ into their speeches. These are supposedly very powerful men and women and yet we are certain they are shills for the true inner circle and maybe they are, but we just do not know. Maybe there is no secret inner circle, just that bunch that meets each year. It’s an ever-changing cast of characters depending on who’s in office and only a few of the ultra-rich seem to always be there year after year. I just don’t know. Do you?”
“I’m afraid not,” Ilyana confessed. “I don’t agree with anything the Sons and Daughters stand for and I have not been in a position to know even as much about that as you do.”
“I know almost nothing,” Spin admitted. “I’m not sure if anyone outside their organization knows much about them that is not debatable. In the eight years since the first confirmed attack by the Sons and Daughters the best we have done is compile a list of suspected members. The men and women who have been arrested have been categorized as low-level members, but really they might have just been employees or servants.
“The sad truth of the matter is that we do not even know what the true name of the Sons and Daughters is,” Spin went on. “From what I have heard, the inner circle does not call themselves that. It’s a label the conspiracy theorists have attached to the group and it has been used among the lower ranked members. For that matter, the term ‘Inner Circle’ is what others have chosen to call them. We don’t know what, if anything, they call themselves.
“We do know some of their goals,” Spin continued. “Well, actually they have one goal; to rule the world. The condition of the world they want to rule, however, is what should concern us. We have learned they believe Maiyim is vastly over populated. So their goal is to depopulate the planet down to about only five hundred million.”
“Through space colonization?” Ilyana asked.
“They have no interest in going to space,” Spin shook his head. “Even now a trip to space still requires the expenditure of Maiyim’s resources. The amount is far less than it was even a generation ago, of course, as we are mining Midbar and the asteroids and there is talk of mining the outer worlds as well, but as much as we get from space, there is still an overall loss from Maiyim and there will be for at least another few decades. No, they intend to depopulate the world through various coercive and violent means.
“The Senate of Bellinen considers at least one bill every year to penalize couples who have more than one child. So far they’ve all been voted down, but the vote gets closer every time and the last one only failed by two. I hear the current bill includes positive incentives for those who voluntarily have no children. No one, or no one who is reputable at least, has established a firm link between the Eldists and the Sons and Daughters, but the acts of terrorism by groups like Eldist Crusade certainly serve the interests of the Sons and Daughters. And there does seem to be a thin but well-hidden money trail leading from some suspected Sons and Daughters to Saindo.”
“The Sons and Daughters definitely funded the military takeover of Saindo a few years ago,” Twist added. “And the two generals who got out of Saindo alive when the Eldist regime was re-established made claims that they were betrayed by their supporters. They did not name them, but suspected Sons and Daughters had been dealing with them.”
“Didn’t anyone think to ask those generals who had betrayed them?” Ilyana asked.
“Sure,” Spin replied, “but they were found dead the next morning in their hotel suites in Merinne. So no one was able to get the full disclosure from them. For the record, the coroner ruled they were both cases of cardiac arrest without any apparent causes. No drugs were found in their blood, no wounds, not even so much as the trace of a spell although an accomplished mage can erase his own spell traces. I might be reading more into this than is there, but my suspicions are that the Sons and Daughters were backing both the Eldists and the Saindan military as a sort of experiment to see if they could do in microcosm what they planned to do across the world.
“There have been similar bills in the parliaments of Granom and Emmine, but they were very unpopular,” Twist pointed out, “and such a law was enacted on Ellisto ten years ago, but I am more concerned by Bellinen’s aggressive political stance. It is like their President Wonitawa is daring us to go to war. Whenever Emmine or Granom attempts a mercy mission to Saindo, Bellinen blocks it with threats of military force. Meanwhile, Bellinen continues to extend its own territory. Last year, you may recall, they tried to extend their territorial waters out to five hundred miles which would have overlapped Granom’s claims in the Sea of Aritos and would have made Conntuc Island, an officially neutral territory, the property of Bellinen.”
“I remember that,” Ilyana nodded. “They eventually retracted that claim and only extended to three hundred miles from their shores.”
“One hundred miles further out than they had been,” Spin pointed out, adding, “one hundred miles further than anyone has ever claimed before and including some prime, previously neutral fishing waters that are still being contested. At least once a month Emmine ships are threatened by the Bellinen Navy unless there is an Emmine Coast Guard ship nearby. So if the Sons and Daughters want war, I think they are just waiting for the tensions to build up.”
“But to reduce the population by, what? Eighty percent?” Ilyana asked.
“About that, yes,” Spin nodded.
“Don’t they realize what that would do to the world?” Ilyana asked.
“They think it would be an improvement,” Spin replied.
“But all civilization would collapse,” Ilyana protested.
“They would be counting on that,” Spin pointed out. “The plan, I imagine, is to seize control in the midst of the chaos.”
“But the drop in population,” Ilyana replied, “along with civilization, our modern technology would be lost too. We would not have the necessary people in order to maintain it.”
“Yeah,” Spin agreed. “That’s where the Sons and Daughters prove they have not thought out their plans very well. Another supposed plan is to release a deadly disease to help reduce the population. I don’t see how that could be aimed at any one group. It would pretty much take down everyone equally.”
“Unless they have a vaccine or a cure for it,” Ilyana pointed out.
“True,” Spin allowed, “and I am sure they would plan to immunize themselves before releasing such a disease, but what of the tech-mages who run the power plants and factories that produce all the wonders of modern civilization we rely on? They won’t be able to shield them from such a disease. Outside the inner circle of the Sons and Daughters, people would die off in the same proportions regardless of their social or employment positions.”
“It would be like the Black Plague of the Age of Faith,” Twist added. “Of course we do not know if this is their plan, but if it is, the Plague was probably their inspiration. Think of your history. The Plague devastated the world population of that time, noble and commoner alike. In the aftermath, society changed. Surfdom disappeared and the commoners worked their own farms, renting from the lords, but keeping their profits. The lords still owned the land but no longer owned the people on it and a lot of people left to make a better living in the cities. By the time everything settled out, the Enlightened Age had come into being and the beginnings of modern society were born.”
“It is proof that a sudden and drastic reduction of population will have radical and lasting effects on society,” Spin took up the argument. “Naturally our Sons and Daughters of Maiyim believe they would be in a position to take control of that new world. I personally think they’ll find themselves being torn to shreds by their own bodyguards, who after observing their employers will decide they can take control just as easily. That’s assuming it gets that far. The Sons and Daughters have apparently been pushing their political agenda for about two centuries. Any politician who uses the phrase ‘New world order,’ is either a suspected Son and Daughter or can be shown to be allied with one or more of them.
“There have been several who have come close to achieving the goals of the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim, but in the end they have all failed,” Spin continued. “The Sons and Daughters want to take over the world, but as I told my friend Alarn – he’s the real expert on the Sons and Daughters, by the way – they seem to be incredibly inept at it. They always seem to back the wrong political horses, and so long as the rest of us continue to oppose them, I believe they will fail yet again. Of course there is always the chance they are capable of learning from their mistakes, but so far…”
“So far they seem to make the same mistakes over and over again,” Ilyana finished for him.
“True enough,” Spin nodded. “The thing that worries me, however, is what if the world changes just enough on its own that the plans of the Sons and Daughters become more feasible?”
“Such as?” Ilyana asked.
Spin shrugged. “Anything can happen,” he replied.
Despite the refusal by the Earl of Khordel to meet with his royal cousin, Princess Ilyana’s visit to Khordel had been quiet and productive. So it was with optimism that she began her stay on Kiffa.
Their first few days in the city of Kif were filled with public appearances and charity events, but while out on Ilyana’s planned shopping trip, it started to snow heavily. Mila and Dusya advised Ilyana to cut the trip short and return to her hotel, but she refused. “I might feel like a leech taking all these gifts in the name of a shopping trip, Mila” Ilyana told her, “but I know the people here will be disappointed if we cancelled the rest of the trip. There have been so few royal progresses, especially here in the north of the kingdom, it would be almost criminal of me not to push on. Besides we had planned to walk back to the hotel shop-by-shop. It’s only another quarter of the mile. How bad can it get?”
“According to the forecast,” Mila countered, “This is just the start of the storm. We’ll be experiencing blizzard conditions within the next hour and a half and, I imagine the merchants are only staying open for your convenience.”
“I see,” Ilyana nodded. “Well, I would realy like to take a look inside this art gallery, if you don’t mind. After that we’ll walk as quickly as we can back to the hotel unless something catches my eye. No, I promise I will not take too much time, but if I see something I like, I may send someone back to buy it later and if I window shop the street, we can deliver tokens to all the merchants. That might make up for the shortened shopping trip.”
“As you wish, Your Highness,” Mila replied resignedly.
“Mila, you need not sound so put out,” Ilyana laughed. “We can see the hotel from here and I predict we’ll be back within half an hour.”
Ilyana’s prediction was off by over twenty minutes, however and only her own stubbornness pushed her through the last fifty yards in the teeth of a snowy gale. The snow was almost six inches deep by the time they reached the hotel’s door and Ilyana refused to let the mages clear the way or keep the wind out of her face with their wards. Twist was tempted to demand what the point of that was. It was nothing she would not have done for anyone else she might have been out in the storm with, but Twist had learned that with Ilyana it was essential to pick one’s fights; to let the easy stuff go so you might have a chance at winning the arguments that you really needed to for her own benefit.
That was evidently not a lesson either Mila or Dusya had learned and the two Oceanvine’s Girls found themselves at odds with the princess on dozens of minor points every day. As those points involved Ilyana’s safety, Twist and Spin tended to side with the guards, but only spoke up when Ilyana’s stubbornness led her into recklessness.
They spent the next three days in the hotel when the storm dumped three feet of snow on the city. Ilyana used it as an excuse to wander around the first floor of the hotel, visiting the shops there, talking to people and even dining in the restaurant, something she had not been able to do during the rest of the trip when she most commonly was served in her suites. Mila argued against Ilyana doing that, but the princess countered, “If there are any assassins out in this storm, they are already here in the hotel with us and I am just as vulnerable hiding in my room as I am running around the lobby.”
The princess even volunteered to entertain the children of her fellow hotel guests on the second afternoon of the storm, reading stories to them in one corner of the lobby. Finally, the storm was over. When the streets of Kif had been cleared, Ilyana did her hectic best to catch up on her delayed schedule. While not all the events could be rescheduled, she did manage to meet with the local dignitaries and attend a special banquet in her honor before flying on to Kodanet on the Island of Marga.
Marga was known worldwide for the quality of its hops. In fact, it was Marga hops that made Gronomish als, a beer mistakenly called ale elsewhere, arguably the best beer on Maiyim. Late winter, however was not the time to visit the famous hops gardens, although as Ilyana and her companions and guards arrived the island was experiencing an early thaw, the first sign of an impending spring that year.
There had still been a thin cover of snow on the ground as their plane had circled the Kodanet airport, but by the time they arrived at the manor of Baron Ilya of Marga, the only remaining snow could be found in the white mounds that bordered those streets and sidewalks that had been plowed and shoveled. The road to the manor was a minor river with all the snow melt flowing through it, but by evening most the excess water had receded leaving thin streams in the gutters.
Baron Ilya was an elderly Granom, slightly overweight and mostly bald save for a fringe of white hair, who had been King Ksaveras’ classmate at University. He greeted Ilyana by kissing both her cheeks and embracing her in a warm hug. While his greetings for the rest of Ilyana’s guards and companions were more restrained, they were still sincere and welcoming. “Thank you, cousin,” Ilyana told the baron sincerely, “I must say I feel far more welcome than I did on Khordel.”
“You should not have been surprised,” Baron Ilya laughed. “His Lordship has always been at odds with the Crown. There is certainly no love lost between him and your grandfather. Don’t worry about it.”
“I know,” Ilyana admitted.
“I’m sure you do,” Baron Ilya nodded. “Well, I know you must want to settle in and relax a bit. You have a very busy schedule tomorrow. I’ll see you all at dinner.”
They spent over a week on Marga while Ilyana spoke to the City Council of Kodanet and various other service organizations there. She spent time at various charities in the barony, especially those centered on children. The entire stay culminated with a parade that, for a change was not in Ilyana’s honor but instead celebrated the almost mythical founding of the kingdom. Ilyana did ride in this parade too, but she was in the lead car and got out as they reached the reviewing stand.
It was a long parade, filled with floats that celebrated Granomish history and technology both physical and magical, with marching bands and with acrobatic dancers and other amusements. The final two floats were nearing the reviewing stand when two mages suddenly appeared in front of the stand and attacked the people in it with fireballs.
Twist’s and Spin’s shielding ward protected everyone in the stand, but the fire spashed across the ward and toward the nearby people and buildings. From inside the ward, Twist could hear the screams of people who had been hit in the attack although she had trouble seeing what was happening outside with afterimages of the fireballs filling her vision. She quickly cast a restraining ward around the attackers, but encountered their own defenses and was unable to completely enclose them.
Spin, however, had already translocated out of the stand, golden staff in hand, and was firing projectile wards at the attackers from behind. He had gained proficiency with offensive magic over the years, but his projectiles, which should have smashed through the enemies’ wards, were simply being absorbed by them. All his counter-attack managed to accomplish was to alert the other two mages to his presence.
As they turned, Spin noted that he was dealing with a male Granom and a female Orente and that they seemed to be casting their warding spell cooperatively. Then he was too busy defending himself from a dozen tentacle-like spell strings to look at the two attackers. The spell against him, he saw, had been cast by the Orente, a tall, dark-skinned woman with short hair, and each of the spell strings seemed to be drilling their way through his defenses, absorbing the energy from his static ward in the same way his projectile ones had been.
Twist’s eyes, meanwhile, finally cleared up and she ran with her wooden staff to the front of the stand, jumped off, and levitated gently to the street below. Using all the power stored in her staff, she sent what some comic books called a disintegration spell at the street below the attacking Granom and Orente. It did not so much disintegrate matter, but temporarily suppress the molecular cohesion in the surface of the street. The substance of the street and the mages standing on top of it immediately fell into the sewer that ran below.
Both Twist and Spin ran forward to follow up on Twist’s successful attack, but a bright greenish-yellow light glowed out of the hole as they neared its crumbling rim. Spin dived for the ground instinctively, but Twist leaned over the edge for a better look. The yellow-greenish glow expanded out of the pit like something alive and Spin barely had time to throw an opaque ward around the rim.
Spin’s ward was ten feet tall and encircled the entire pit, and pushed Twist away and down to the ground as the light erupted upward and reflected against the clouds. Suddenly Spin’s ward dissolved and his head felt like it was going to explode as the two enemy mages rose back up from the deep hole.
The Granomish and Orentan mages seemed to be enshrouded in mantles of yellowish-green that pulsed with energy along a strange pattern. Spin tried to see what it was and felt something tugging at his mind. Then he knew what it was immediately.
“Spin!” Twist shouted to him. It drew the attention of the attacking mages and she was forced to defend herself even as she continued, “It’s the Bond!”
Spin had already recognized it, however. The Bond of Aritos was misnamed. It had nothing to do with the god Aritos, who was considered the god of evil by every mortal religion on Maiyim. Islandtwist and Spinnaker had learned even that reputation was not entirely fair to the deity in question. However, in his youth, Aritos had made mistakes and his greatest mistake was attempting to create intelligent life without the assistance of a goddess. The result had been the five demons; Pohn, Xenlabit, Gredac, Kerawlat and Arithan. The so-called Bond of Aritos was actually five different symbols each associated with one of the five demons. Four of the demons had been permanently imprisoned by the Gods. The fifth, Arithan, had been destroyed utterly, making the symbol associated with him powerless. A mage might use one of the Bonds at peril of both his life and soul, Twist and Spin had learned. In fact, a mage employing a Bond might do so successfully only only once or perhaps do so for years, but eventually use of the Bond would put one totally within the power of the associated demon.
To date, Spin and Twist had only encountered the Bond of Aritos on Midbar several years earlier and then only the variant associated with the Demon Pohn. Pohn’s greatest attribute was power, they knew and the Bond of Pohn had been used to sabotage the fusion power station at Candletown. The attacking rogue mages were not using the Bond of Pohn, however. This one was more complex and the energy pulsed through it like blood flowed through an artery.
The Bond was being used in a manner neither Twist nor had Spin ever seen. Instead of forming a dome of energy around the users, this form of the bond molded itself around them like clothing. It was also being used by both mages cooperatively. Cooperative magic was rare. Two mages working together had to be very much in tune with each other, each knowing exactly what the other was doing and would do from moment to moment. Consequently the few mages who did practice cooperative magic were usually those who had spent a lot of time together, both at work and leisure. Spells cast cooperatively were more efficient and effective than those either mage could cast on his or her own, but they were also far more dangerous to the casters.
Failure to work together might simply result in a spell not working at all or working at reduced efficiency, but it was more common for one or both mages to be harmed mentally and physically by a spell gone wrong. Consequently there were few mages who attempted cooperative magic and most concluded that the benefits were not worth the risks.
Islandtwist and Spinnaker had discovered years earlier that together they had a talent for cooperative magic and that, when working together, their spells often blended together without their consciously trying to do so. That talent had startled more than a few of their teachers and all had warned them to get that side effect fully under their control. It had taken several years, but eventually they had learned how to turn that natural proclivity off. Even so, while their spells were rarely cooperative unintentionally, they still worked in concert most of the time when together.
The Bond of Aritos was both powerful and insidious. Even looking at it, in some forms, could be enough to affect a victim and Spin modified his protective ward to block such attacks, but the cooperatively-cast Bond, continued to drill its way through both his and Twist’s defenses. The first way to defuse the Bond Spin had ever learned was to draw the magical energy out of it. If you could weaken it sufficiently, the spell would simply collapse. The second way he had learned was to pump still more energy into it. If the spell became too powerful it would turn on the mage using it and the associated demon would “call” the mage to him and the caster would instantly be translocated to the demon’s place of imprisonment. Neither Spin nor Twist liked to think about what happened next and having condemned one mage to that fate, Spin was hesitant to do the same to another.
So Spinnaker started drawing the powering energy of the Bond into the golden staff. It was a trick Wizard Amble had taught him soon after giving him the staff. A normal wooden staff, like Twist’s might well burn out when used that way, but the golden staff could hold a much higher charge than any mere, mortal-made one. Even so, when the staff began to grew uncomfortably warm in his hand, Spin be came concerned and started funneling excess energy back into the street beneath him. That proved to be a mistake.
While Spin was drawing the energy out of the Bond, Twist noticed that the rogue mages were powering their Bond from the ambient magical energy all around them. She cast a warding spell that cut off most of that power from the attackers, but they were still able to draw some power from the ground beneath them. Even though they were levitating, to her magical senses, it looked as though they were standing on a pillar that glowed white hot and she was unable to do more than lessen the strength of that power. When Spin started funneling excess energy into the street, he was inadvertently helping them power the Bond.
“Spin!” Twist shouted, but she did not need to say any more, Spin saw immediately what had happened and, instead, redirected the energy he was pulling from the Bond and up into the sky as a fountain of lightning. The sizzling and crackling noise from the fountain of lighting was deafening and high above them the redirected power punched a hole in the cloudy skies and fanned out to spark auroras in the upper atmosphere so bright they could be seen across the northern hemisphere for the next thirty-five hours.
The Bond of Aritos did not collapse as he had expected. Instead it glowed even brighter for the next minute or so and then suddenly went black. In the next instant the black Bond and the mages it enfolded disappeared and the implosion from their sudden disappearance rocked the city square. The rumble of thunder from that implosion combined with the now concluded fountain of lightning continued on for almost two minutes.
“No!” Ilyana told her guards firmly that evening in her suite in Baron Marga’s home. “We will continue on to the Isle of Fire as planned.”
“Your Highness is very brave,” Mila commended her without a trace of irony, “but our ability to protect you on the Isle of Fire is much less than it is here. So far you have been attacked three times and when we could bring the full strength of Oceanvine’s Girls to bear for your safety. Methiscia was honored to have so many of us there as well, but it would be political suicide to have such a large contingent in Rjalkatyp.”
“It is essential I go to Rjalkatyp,” Ilyana replied stubbornly. “It is the single most important stop on the whole tour. It’s the main reason I was sent off in the first place. How many of you can accompany me?”
“Only Dusya and me,” Mila replied. “Technically not even us. The Isle of Fire does not allow any active foreign military personel in their territory, but they are willing to accept the polite fiction that we are your companions.”
“No active military?” Ilyana asked. “What about the ones attached to our embassy there?”
“The embassy is the sovereign territory of Granom,” Dusya put in. “That does not count and those attached are not on active duty when they leave the embassy.”
“Then she might be all the safer,” Spinnaker pointed out.
“How do you figure that?” Mila demanded.
“The Isle of Fire has as much to lose as Granom does should the Princess be attacked on their shores,” Spin explained.
“Not quite as much,” Mila replied darkly.
“More from their point of view,” Spin insisted. “Oh, I agree the loss to Granom would be much greater, but that is not their concern. Their loss of face and prestige would be far more devastating in their eyes, so the Isle of Fire is going to do everything it can to keep Ilyana safe.”
“It’s also possible the attacks will stop once we arrive,” Twist added thoughtfully. “The Isle of Fire is most closely allied with Bellinen at the moment. Their new president is on the fence on that count, the main reason you are going to Rjalkatyp, I know, but keep in mind that Bellinen’s president is believed to be firmly in the pocket of the Sons and Daughters of Maiyim. If there is an attack that can be pinned on even the lowest level member of the Sons and Daughters, it will drive the Isle of Fire directly to the Granom/Emmine alliance and that’s the last thing Bellinen or the Sons and Daughters want. I think we’re all in far more danger on the flight there.”
“What makes you say that?” Mila asked.
“Any attempt on the Princess’s life must not be linked to the Isle of Fire,” Twist replied. “Once we arrive there, such a link would be obvious.”
“Unless committed by an Eldist,” Mila argued.
“Eldism is all but outlawed on the Isle of Fire,” Twist pointed out. “The people there find it an affront and heretical to their own religion, which, as you know, venerates the Younger Gods who are not recognized as divine by Eldists.”
“Also, Eldism began in Saindo,” Spin added, “which Bellinen insists is part of their sphere of influence.”
“I doubt any Saindan would agree with them,” Mila argued.
“Probably not,” Spin shrugged, “but Bellinen claims them nonetheless so if there is an Eldist attack it would drive the Isle of Fire from Bellinen’s influence as surely as a contingent of armed men coming out of the Orentan embassy.”
“Then their last chance is while we are on the plane,” Mila concluded. “Excuse me, Please, Your Highness. I must make some arrangements.”
Ilyana nodded and Mila rushed out of the room, but once she was gone, the princess commented, “That was sudden.”
“I suspect she is making sure your jet will be searched extensively for any threat to your life,” Dusya explained. “I doubt we will see Mila again until you are ready to board the plane tomorrow.”
“Dusya,” Ilyana asked. “Do you support my decision to continue on?”
“It is not my place to pass judgement on Your Highness,” Dusya replied carefully.
“Nonsense!” Ilyana told her instantly. “This is not the Age of Faith and don’t give me that nonsence about not being paid to think because thinking is most definitely part of what you are paid to do.”
“Very well, Your Highness,” Dusya replied. “I believe you are being unnecessarily reckless. It is my belief that President Sirabawa would fully understand why you were unable to visit him at this time and that understanding would draw him closer to Granom.”
“That is a possibility,” Ilyana admitted, “but I cannot depend on Nikolay Sirabawa’s sympathy to lock in an alliance with the Isle of Fire. Bellinen knows as well as we do that a shift in the allegiance of the Isle of Fire would break the political deadlock in the International Congress.”
“Is that a good thing?” Spin asked.
“You do not side with your own nation?” Ilyana asked suspiciously.
“I do,” Spin replied easily, “but while the deadlock in the International Congress might be a form of stasis in which nothing major can be accomplished, it is also a sort of stability. If the balance shifts we could accomplish great good, that’s true, but we do not always know the consequences of our own actions. We could cause harm as well. Seems to me that the International Congress does not really have the power to enforce any decisions it makes so the only thing that keeps any of our nations in the Congress and paying attention to what is decided there is our own good will. I’m just wondering how long Bellinen and its allies would remain in the Congress if nothing went their way. Sometimes getting what you think you want is the worst thing for you.”
“Then we shoud forget about allying with the Isle of Fire?” Ilyana asked archly.
“I never said that,” Spin replied. “The real trick, I think, is in moderation. If we don’t try to push Bellinen around once we have the majority of the Congress it will probably be fine. I just don’t have a lot of faith that our politicians can be moderate once the deadlock is broken.”
The next morning they went to the airport to find not one but three jets waiting for them.
“I seem to remember having plenty of extra room during our other flights,” Ilyana remarked. “Why three planes?”
“Pick one, Your Highness,” Mila told her. “I have personally gone over all three of these and am certain they are safe, but anyone can make a mistake, so choose one to fly on.”
“The one in the middle,” Ilyana decided without much thought. “Is that really necessary?”
“If anyone were planning to plant a bomb onboard they would have had to wait until right now to do so reliably,” Mila replied.
“Or just plant one on each of the planes,” Spin remarked.
“Or slip one in with our luggage,” Twist added.
“I have taken every possible precaution,” Mila insisted.
“Then let’s be off,” Ilyana told her. “I trust you and I especially trust your judgement.”
They were up in the air when Dusya quietly remarked to Mila, “Of course, a missile would take us down as surely as any bomb might.”
Twist overheard the remark and slipped the golden staff in pen form from Spin’s pocket. A moment later she told Dusya, “Relax. We’re fully warded now.”
“Impermeable ward?” Spin asked, trying to figure out why the jet was still flying.
“Selectively permeable,” Twist replied. “Air is not being blocked.”
“The percussion of an explosion isn’t either then,” Spin pointed out. “How fair afield did you cast the ward.
“About one hundred feet around us,” Twist replied.
“That will probably do then,” Spin decided. “Just thought of something. Could a missile be built to phase through a ward?”
“I suppose it is theoretically possible,” Twist replied. “That’s not something easy to do with tech magic since you would need a small but powerful on-board computer to work out how to phase through.”
“Most modern missiles have on-board computers,” Spin pointed out. “Fairly intelligent ones too. Of course you would need a complex of tech magic to pull off such a feat. First you would need a spell that could detect and analyze the ward and feed that information to the computer so that it could program a specific ward-nullification spell allowing a missile to phase through and it would have to do it in a second or less, maybe much less, I should think. Hmm, why isn’t tech magic used to cast a defensive or security ward for that matter?”
“It could,” Twist considered. “Any spell a mage can cast can be programmed into a tech magic device. It’s not done very often because wards are usually tailored made to a given situation. Also a mage-cast ward can be adjusted on the fly; a tech magic ward is static in its properties. Still, it can be very effective if highly powered and if it incorporates a multiphase ward rather than a conventional one. I believe some military installations use them.”
“Why didn’t I know that?” Spin wondered.
“You never asked,” Twist replied, “and it probably never came up in class. Besides, the military and the various police departments prefer to use null magic armor which can nullify any ward.”
“So, a missile covered with null magic armor…” Spin started to conjecture.
“I hope no one else has thought of that,” Twist told him, thinking how easily such a weapon could get past her ward.
“I doubt they have,” Spin told her. “All missile designs I have seen incorporate some tech magic, all the computer systems do, in fact. Null magic plating, if you want to call it that, would also nullify all the tech magic we use to run such weapons systems so the manufacturers would have to design everything from scratch. Hmm, I think such a missile if activated would also disrupt all the conventional ones in its proximity as well. Null magic armor is really just a generator built into a bulky suit after all.”
“But it could be done,” Twist insisted.
“It could,” Spin admitted, “but only if you have an entirely non-magical technology.”
The trip to Rjalkatyp was a long one, but Spin was happy to see that New Island was not erupting as they arrived. In fact, there was not even a wisp of steam coming from the peak of its tall ash cone. The princess’ plane was cleared for immediate landing and then directed to a special gate that allowed her party to avoid the crowded concourse.
They might have avoided the crowd in the concourse, but only a thin line of policemen stood between Ilyana and the crowd as she left the terminal. As usual, Ilyana insisted on greeting the people face to face as her guards gently guided her toward the waiting floater and Twist and Spin kept their wards up around Ilyana as best they could. It was a nervous several minutes, but finally they got into the floater and flew off.
They flew along one of the roads for the first few miles and then suddenly turned northward and circled the City of Rjalkatyp, climbing higher and higher until they were at the same height as the tall escarpment that overlooked the city. Ahead they could see the large white building that was the home of the Senate of the Isle of Fire and several other buildings that served as the Senatorial offices. Beyond them was a smaller compound of stately buildings, which Spin and Twist knew from their previous visit was the Presidential Palace.
They were met by a tall human man as their floater finally came to rest in front of the second largest building in the compound. His hair was still partially dark brown, but there was a lot of gray mixed with it and the lines on his face made him look older than his sixty-two years. “Your Royal Highness,” President Sirabawa greeted her warmly. “It’s so good to have you here at last.”
“Thank you, Mister President,” Ilyana replied in the same warm tones, and quickly introduced her companions.
Sirabawa flashed them what Spin thought of as the typical politician’s smile, but the president’s attention was fully riveted on Ilyana as he escorted them personally into the guest house. The guest house was only used by foreign dignitaries on state visits. Ilyana’s party only planned to stay there for the first two evenings of their visit, after which they planned to move into the Granomish embassy, down in the Old City section of town. The guest house was certainly more comfortable and spacious than the embassy, but the move would demark the official visit to President Sirabawa.
Once inside, the president introduced them to his wife. Emilie Sirabawa was much shorter than her husband, with deep brown hair and eyes. She walked with exquisite grace as she gave them a tour of the large house, finally leading them all into a large dining room where tea had been prepared in the Granomish manner. “I do hope this is all right,” Emilie told them. “I don’t often have time to observe a real Granomish tea.”
“This all looks perfect, Mrs. Sirabawa,” Ilyana assured her, keeping her private thought that it was actually at least two hours too early even by local time, but a cup of tea was welcome at any hour and she could manage to nibble on one of the cream puffs that were a national specialty of the Isle of Fire.
They barely had time to taste the tea when two of the president’s aides rushed into the room and whispered something urgently. “Please excuse me,” Sirabawa told them. “Something has come up. We’ll meet again at dinner.” He got up and rushed out of the room.
“Oh dear,” Emilie sighed. “I swear we haven’t had more than one whole meal in a row together since the inauguration. “Does this sort of thing happen to the king, Princess?”
Ilyana chuckled, “All the time, although breakfasts and dinners are nearly always official occasions, so business is often discussed at the high board. The only place in the Wurra to be guaranteed a full meal without interruption is the kitchen.”
“The kitchen, Your Highness?” Emilie asked.
“There are a few tables in one corner of the kitchen,” Ilyana explained. “Whenever Grandfather and I want a private meal, that’s where we go. The kitchen staff generally leaves us alone unless they are on break too. Then the rule is anyone sits where they can. No one serves in the kitchen either. You have to help yourself, but I’m told my family has been eating there for generations. In fact, I usually have my real meal there before the official breakfast or after a dinner banquet.”
“I don’t understand,” Emilie confessed.
“I don’t often have time to eat during the official meals,” Ilyana told her, “not since my parents died and I had to start helping grandfather as they had. And to tell the truth, the kitchen is a far more relaxing place to eat. And if I wake up early enough, the head chef has time once in a while to give me lessons in cooking.”
“Why would a princess ever need to know how?” Emilie Sirabawa asked.
“Need?” Ilyana echoed. “It’s not a matter of need, it’s something I enjoy learning. My teachers always said no knowledge is ever a waste of time. I’m getting very good at fancy breakfast dishes, in fact. Maybe someday I’ll have time to learn more about making dinner. It’s wonderful to know I can do ordinary things like cooking for myself.”
“Do all royalty do that sort of thing?” Emilie asked.
“Not all,” Ilyana shook her head. “My mother never had an interest in cooking, for example and I’m told the concept of eating in the kitchen is unheard of in the Emmine royal family, but then the House of Granova has always been considered unusually informal when in private.”
“You certainly won’t see King Othon hugging anyone in public, either,” Twist remarked.
“His Emmine Majesty does not have cousins who belong to other species,” Ilyana replied, “and I’m certain none of the royal princes of the House of Hacon have ever married a former prostitute.”
“I was unaware of that,” Emilie admitted. “Who?”
“That was Princess Ksana of Northmarket,” Ilyana answered. “She was my multi-great grandmother. Family legend has it that Prince Zakhar married her to insure he would not be considered in line for the throne. I suppose that it did have that effect, but it did not stop their great grandson from being crowned.”
“So, what is on your schedule here on the Isle of Fire, Princess?” Emilie asked curiously.
“Well,” Ilyana shrugged, “while I’ll be engaged in official talks with your husband tomorrow, this is really a good will visit. So I’ll be touring museums, visiting historical sites, meeting with the local businessmen and praying at the shrine of Methis in the New Forest. I’m really looking forward to that. According to what I’ve been told, there are few places one can feel closer to the goddess.”
Emilie nodded. “Will you also visit the shrines of Wenni and Nildar?”
“Yes, I should,” Ilyana admitted, “but I’m sure you can see why I feel closer to Methis.”
“I’m sure She will understand if you pay your respects to all three of the Younger Gods,” Twist remarked dryly. Spin grinned at the remark and Twist shrugged back at him, but neither Ilyana nor Emilie caught the exchange.
“That will be later in the week,” Ilyana told Emilie. “Tomorrow I’ll spend much of the day in talks with your husband and then there’s the official reception tomorrow evening. After that I have a fairly full schedule around the city, that’s why I’ll being moving into the embassy. I’ll be closer to everywhere I need to be.”
They woke up the next morning to breakfast in their rooms, but instead of the planned talks in which Princess Ilyana and Nikolai Sirabawa were to discuss the possibilities of trade agreements and other mutual benefits from an alliance, the president had more immediate concerns. Instead of a light, non-binding discussion which both parties had planned to categorize as cordial, Sirabawa had a matter of the gravest importance to talk about.
“I have been working most of the night, Ilyana,” President Sirabawa confessed to the princess.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Nikolai,” Ilyana told him sympathetically. “Nikolai. That is a Granomish name.”
“And Sirabawa is an Orentan surname,” Nikolai replied with a thin smile. “My campaign to get elected emphasized my name. I am human with a name that is both Granomish and Orentan. In short, I embody what it is to be of the Isle of Fire, a peaceful and productive blend of all the best Maiyim has to offer. At least that was the campaign,” he concluded with a tired chuckle. “Looking back I see running for office was the easiest part of the job. Very few people can know what it is like to run a nation until they actually have to do it. I know I didn’t have any idea.”
“Something has happened,” Ilyana deduced.
“Two days ago a mysterious disease was first diagnosed here in Rjalkatyp,” Nikoai explained. “Its initial symptoms are similar to those of a common cold, but after a few hours, maybe as much as a day a victim is almost completely incapacitated. When you arrived yesterday, it was a minor footnote in the news; something the reporters were calling ‘Arithan’s Disease.’ Last night, however, I got a call from the Secretary of Health telling me that with over two dozen victims in the local hospital and dozens more in their homes, he felt he had no recourse but to declare it an epidemic. I know you planned to move into your embassy this evening, but perhaps you might be safer if you stayed here for the duration. I know you have appointments all over town, but until this passes…” he trailed off.
“Yes, I see what you mean,” Ilyana agreed.
“From what my advisors have told me the disease is spread by a virus of some sort,” Nikolai continued, “but they are at odds as to whether there is a magical component to the disease.”
“You should ask my cousins, Islandtwist and Spinnaker, to look into the matter,” Ilyana advises.
“We have mages on the Isle of Fire too,” Nikolai pointed out.
“Not like these!” Ilyana told him. “They really are the best.”
“Well, I suppose it would not hurt to ask them,” Nikolai admitted.
“Well, we really couldn’t refuse,” Twist told Spin later that day. They were in a floater headed down into the city.
“No I suppose not,” Spin agreed, “but we’re only masters and medicine is not our specialty. There are wizards teaching at the local university who must be far better qualified than we are. They should have been consulted.”
“There’s nothing stopping us from consulting them,” Twist pointed out. “I should think Kestrel will know who we need to go to. We’ll give her a call directly after we finish at the Department of Health.”
Their visit to the Department of Health was brief. “I want to thank you for stepping up to help us,” Secretary of Health Yarrin Cass told them sincerely. “You come highly recommended. I think, however, your questions can be best answered by Wizard Ampule. He is heading our investigation from his office at the University of Rjalkatyp’s School of Medicine.”
They thanked Secretary Cass and quickly headed for the university. Twist called Kestrel along the way and got a shock when Misana Nasperov answered the phone. “Twist! I never had a chance to thank you!” Misana was still “wearing” the hex nut Spin had given her and even on the small screen of her mobile comm, Twist could see it sparkle as it orbited the Granomish woman’s head.
“Sure you did, Misana,” Twist reminded the younger woman. “When I first sent you to talk to Master Kestrel.”
“Perhaps,” Misana nodded, “but she also gave me a job here in the department while I take classes. I get a discount as an employee. Also, I’ll be spending summers at Olen – winter there, I guess – and then back here for the academic year. I never dreamed I would have such an opportunity.”
“From what Kestrel tells me, you deserve it,” Twist assured her. “And speaking of Kestrel…”
“Master Kestrel is out of the office at the moment,” Misana reported.
“In class?” Twist guessed.
“No,” Misana shook her head. “She’s consulting with Wizard Ampule at the School of Medicine.”
“Two birds, one stone,” Twist chuckled. “That’s where we’re headed right now. How about some direction to Ampules office, then?”
Wizard Ampule, was an Orente of the classic Isle of Fire sort, tall and moderate of build. He eschewed the bright and garish floral patterns of tropical Bellinen in favor of the far more conservative Granomish style clothing. “Arithan’s Disease!” he scoffed as Twist and Spin found him with Kestrel. “Anything bad on this island is attributed to Arithan… Who are you?” he demanded of the two human mages. Kestrel quickly introduced them and they got back to the subject. “So far as I know, there never has been an illness associated with the Demon Arithan.”
“There is Arithan’s Curse,” Twist pointed out. “It’s still in use today as a humane alternative to the death penalty for rogue mages.”
“It’s hardly all that humane,” Ampule replied. “Only one mage has ever actually recovered from it, you know. Over half the mages inflicted with Arithan’s curse eventually go insane.”
“Who recovered?” Spin asked interestedly.
“My ancestor,” Twist replied. “Silverwind. Although, I can make a case for your ancestor, Master Windchime, having recovered too.”
“No,” Ampule disagreed. “I have studied those early cases. Windchime never returned to magic. He survived the curse well, but never completely recovered. He gave up magic as completely as one can and that’s what saved him. Most mages never stop trying to throw off the curse and the nightmares and the pains drive them crazy.”
“They have a better chance of surviving that than a death penalty,” Spin commented. “and I’d be more concerned that someone might figure out how old Silverwind managed to shake the curse on his own.”
“As he was the only one to do it,” Ampule returned, “I find the possibility does not worry me too much. Silverwind was, by all accounts, a most remarkable wizard. Just between us, I think the standards for a wizard’s degree have been relaxed since his day.”
“It’s just an academic degree,” Twist pointed out.
“My point exactly,” Wizard Ampule nodded. “It’s just another academic degree and the number of wizards is much higher than it used to be. Back in Silverwind’s day, there were very few wizards. I can’t help but think that it took more than a passing grade back then.”
“No one really knows any more what the final exam was back then,” Twist commented, “except that it took place in the Five Demons Archipelago.”
“Plus during the voyage time all the way there,” Ampule added. “I know that much. I suspect the testing during the voyage was a form of comprehensive exam. We do that now.”
“Not continuously for several weeks to months,” Spin put in. “There were no motor-driven ships back then either. The students from Querna must have had the hardest time of all, sailing from one end of Maiyim to the other and being tested all the way.”
“Hard to say just how intensive the testing might have been,” Ampule admitted. “No one seems to have written an account of it. I would have thought the other three universities might have kept some sort of records, but after three centuries such records are probably buried in the depths of their libraries if they even still exist. Rjalkatyp University didn’t exist back then so we certainly have no such records.
“In any case, we know that Silverwind had amazing powers of concentration,” Ampule went on. “I’ve heard it said he could cast a spell when drunk as well as he could when sober.”
“Or maybe better,” Twist remarked, “or so the story goes. You’ve heard of how he created a living dove?”
“Heard it, but don’t believe it,” Ampule replied. “Creation spells are difficult enough. I certainly have never tried one, have you?”
“Not yet,” Twist replied, “but we’re in training for that.”
“You may want to rethink that,” Ampule advised. “One small mistake and you’re dead of radiation poisoning.”
“Our teacher is very good,” Twist assured him. “She won’t let us try until she thinks we’re ready.”
“I’m not sure anyone is ever ready,” Ampule shot back, “unless he’s one of the gods, but that’s your look-out. You don’t seem like raving maniacs, so maybe you will be cautious enough. That trick with the living dove, though. Very hard to credit. To do that, Silverwind would have to cast a perfect creation spell, with all the biological processes working at the moment of creation. I would say it was impossible to do it sober. The thought of doing it drunk… well, perhaps his judgment had gone out the window. That happens when you get drunk, but then so does the ability to concentrate. My guess is that it never really happened but if it did the story has grown in the telling.
“Still, the fact that he is credited with such a feat may indicate just how great the man’s powers were,” Ampule continued. “A living dove might be an exaggeration or even just a fairy tale, but if Silverwind had just been an ordinary mage such stories would never have grown up around him. Obviously his mental discipline and learning got him past the worst of Arithan’s Curse and eventually cured him. He also fought Arithan more than once. It is possible that the demon tried the same trick on Silverwind too often and that like any good wizard, Silverwind figured out how it was done. If you know that, then you know how to undo it.”
“Then what stops other victims of the curse from curing themselves?” Spin asked.
“The ability to concentrate and ignore the pain and nightmares long enough,” Ampule replied. “Okay, so maybe Silverwind was not as great as his reputation. Certainly, we know more about magic these days than anyone did when he was alive. Keep in mind that no known wizard has ever been sentenced to Arithan’s Curse. Perhaps any good wizard could cure himself, it just hasn’t come up. Besides, Arithan’s Curse is not our problem today, it’s this illness the news media is calling Arithan’s Disease.”
“What can you tell us about it?” Twist asked. “We’ve only heard a very little bit.”
“I’m not sure if I know any more about it than you do,” Ampule admitted. “I have only been studying it since yesterday afternoon. I have the hospital and DoH reports. Have you seen them?”
“No,” Spin shook his head. “We got a few minutes of briefing from President Sirabawa which I understood was boiled down from what his people told him.”
“I think what I know could be boiled down at least that much too,” Ampule replied. “Okay. The disease’s first symptoms are very much like a common cold. Patients tell us they first noticed a mild scratching in their throats and runny noses. The symptoms stay like that for the first few hours as they develop a slight cough. The disease appears to be spreading through contact, mostly with a slight chance of airborne infection. We do not know that for certain yet, but given the patterns of person-to-person transmission, that is our best guess. We hope to know more soon. That is actually why I asked our colleague, Master Kestrel here this morning. I’ll need some grad students from her department to assist in the investigation.
“My medical students can handle the viral aspect of the disease, but while at least half of us have journeyman degrees, our main focus was in the biological sciences as undergrads. My initial investigation indicated the disease has a magical component. I may be a wizard, but I’m a medical wizard. I’m a doctor first and a mage second. I want magical specialists on this team.”
“That’s why Professor Leafmold sent me,” Kestral added. “I will be heading up the magical side of the inquiry.”
“And the president sent us,” Spin remarked. “Sounds like we have a strong team then.”
“But keep in mind, this is my team,” Ampule warned him. “None of us are going to accomplish anything if we do not all work together.”
“And you’re the medical wizard,” Spin agreed. “Twist and I are here to help, but neither of us claim to know more than it took to pass Biology 101, so sure, this is your eight-base field. We’re just playing on it.”
“Two hot-shot mages like you can work under another mage?” Ampule pressed.
“We’ve done it before,” Twist shot back. “Ask Cirrus. We know how to be team players.”
“All right,” Ampule decided. “I do need the help, and sorry if I pushed too much there. I’ve had some bad experiences with full-time mages in the past. There was this real jerk last year, Goldore was his name. Kept trying to take over. I eventually had to go over his head and have him reassigned.”
“Sounds like him,” Twist nodded.
“You know him?” Ampule asked.
“I’ve only heard the name so far,” Spin cut in. Twist had been engaged to Goldore back when they had both been apprentices. Spin had never heard the whole story, but whatever Goldore had done or said, Spin decided it had been unforgivable. “But that’s enough to know I owe him a poke in the eye if we ever meet.”
“He has that effect on people,” Kestrel laughed. “We got him out of the department at the end of last semester. I think he’s been hanging out his shingle as an general practice mage in Randona since then. I’m just glad he isn’t still here.”
“Okay, so let’s forget him then and move on,” Ampule suggested. “This so-called Arithan’s disease is highly contagious and you will need to take precautions above and beyond the usual.”
“What is the usual?” Spin asked. Ampule glared at him, so Spin explained, “As you said, you’re the medical expert here. We’re general practice mages. I don’t know about Twist, but I’ve never dealt with diseases, magical or otherwise.”
“The usual includes keeping patients in negative pressure isolation wards,” Ampule began. “It also means masks and enough hand sanitizer to dry your hands out for life. Touch nothing you can avoid touching and as non-medical personnel that pretty much means everything. In this case I’m ordering that patients be kept in tents, also with lower than ambient pressure and that no one enter a tent do so without masks and gloves.”
“Tents?” Spin asked.
Ampule read his mind, “No, they are not camping out in the winter. They are clear plastic walls often used as oxygen tents. We keep the air pressure inside the tents slightly lower than outside so airborne pathogens can’t be spread easily. You will not enter a tent unless you can convince me it is necessary. In the hospital you will wear a special uniform when in the wards. No street clothes allowed. In a contagion ward you will wear a mask no matter how uncomfortable you find it and gloves on your hands”
“How do we sanitize our staffs?” Twist asked, indicating the wooden staff with the bronze bands.
“You won’t bring that into a ward,” Ampule told her.
“It’s an essential tool,” Twist told him.
“This is not the Age of Faith,” Ampule replied.
“Master Islandtwist is right,” Kestrel put in. “I know staff usage is not taught here in Rjalkatyp, but I believe this is a prejudiced oversight. I felt the way you do until I spent my first session at the Olen School. A staff is not an antiquated instrument of a country mage, wizard, but an excellent power source and storage unit.”
“I do not have to use this particular staff,” Twist pointed out. “Any object could be used, although a staff fits the hand comfortably and is easily carried. Also it should be not be a good conductor of heat, otherwise the holder could get burned when using it.”
“Do you need to actually touch the wood?” Ampule asked. “Can it be encased in a long plastic sleeve?”
“I don’t need to touch it directly,” Twist admitted.
“I think mine can be directly sanitized,” Spin commented, pulling the golden pen out of his pocket. He willed it to grow to about three feet long.
“Wizard Amble’s staff?” Kestrel asked.
“He gave it to Twist and me as our wedding present,” Spin explained. “Anyway I can sanitize it with a spell. Come to think of it we can sanitize Twist’s the same way. Simple repulsive telekinesis coupled with a selectively permeable ward.”
“So we could,” Twist marveled. She turned to the others as told them proudly, “Spin’s a creative genius. He’s been inventing new spells and adapting old spells to new purposes since he was an apprentice.”
“You’re sure you can completely sanitize those things?” Ampule asked.
“Absolutely,” Spin replied. “You may test the results if you wish.”
“No, I believe you,” Ampule admitted. “It’s probably not necessary anyway. None of our victims is in the intensive care ward. How did you make that thing grow like that? Not creative magic?”
“Technically, I think it is creation magic, but it is an intrinsic property of the staff,” Spin replied. “No one really knows how it does what it does. It is also capable of more than just storing power. It amplifies it. Previous owners claimed that it improved certain of their magical abilities as well, but I have yet to notice a specialty in the staff for me, although everything seems to be easier when I use it.”
“My wards are more highly powered when I use that staff,” Twist remarked. “Since the staff is more efficient at energy transfer than normal ones, that the boost I get is just a side effect of that and not a specialized amplification of my skills. We haven’t really thought experimentation was a great idea along certain lines. I mean what if it enhances my ability to cast destructive spells? I could kill people inadvertently just fooling around with the staff, so I don’t.”
“Anyway, I don’t need to make it grow into a full-sized staff,” Spin pointed out. “Its abilities are pretty much the same no matter what size or shape it is. A pocket pen is the easiest to carry around and I don’t need to check it with a flight attendant when on a plane or space transport. But what else can you tell us about Arithan’s Disease?”
“Not much more than I have already,” Ampule replied. “The disease is a virus, definitely spread by contact and is probably airborne at least over short distances. I believe there is a magical component to the disease, based on changes to patients’ auras, but it is that aspect that I will need your help with.”
“Magic could simply be a natural part of this specific virus,” Kestrel hypothesized. “There are other known creatures for which magic is an essential part of life.”
“Dragons and serps, for example,” Spin contributed.
“And the Ellistan sand walkers,” Twist added.
“There are several orders of single-celled organisms in which magical energy is needed for life,” Ampule agreed. “I have never encountered a virus in which that was true however, although quite a few absorb the magical energy from people even though they do not generate any such energy of their own.”
“Then either this is something entirely new,” Kestrel noted, “or the magical component was added artificially.”
“You think, this disease was intentionally created?” Ampule asked.
“Well, obviously I’m hoping it’s just something new and natural,” Kestrel replied, “but it’s a possibility. I’ve heard whispers of such things from out of military labs for as long as I’ve been a mage. Maybe they are just rumors, I certainly hope so, but…”
“Something else to keep our minds open to, then,” Ampule nodded. “People also need magic to live, by the way. That is why there are mages in the first place.”
“Some people are magic-null,” Kestrel pointed out.
“Being magic-null is not the same as having no magic,” Twist argued. “It is just a very specific spell and one, by its very nature, that is not completely controllable. Princess Ilyana is a magic-null, you know. It has made protecting her a bit of a challenge.”
“And apparently it is possible to damp a null magic field,” Spin added. “Some of the princess’ kidnappers used techmagic devices to do just that to translocate her.”
“They suppress a null magic field?” Ampule asked. “Any idea of how they work?”
“Not yet,” Spin replied. “We sent two of them for analysis to Master Keyhole at the University at Querna. We still have one in our room.”
“I wonder if they might enhance the abilities of a normal mage,” Ampule remarked.
“Not that we could tell,” Twist replied. “I think their primary purpose is actually to suppress translocation shock. There have been a number of incidents with mages translocating close to their objective without getting knocked out in the last eight years or so, starting with Lord Dathan’s kidnapping in Horalia. We didn’t find any such devices then, but we weren’t looking for them either.”
“If the kidnappers had them when they abducted Lord Dathan, they might not have still had them, but they time we caught up with them,” Spin pointed out. “No one tried translocating away from us once we caught up to them. Or they might have been inside that house, but as it burnt to the ground I doubt the devices would have survived the fire. But you’re probably right about their primary purpose. The fact that they suppress a null magic field sufficiently to translocate a magic-null person is probably just a side product. There aren’t enough magic-nulls in the world to make the development of such magic worthwhile by itself.”
“Well, it was just a thought,” Ampule admitted, “and might have given you a clue as to how that staff of yours works.”
Ampule assigned one of his journeymen medical students, Palmetto, to work with one of Kestrel’s journeyman graduate students, Laser. Palmetto, a platinum blonde female human could not have contrasted more with the tall, dark male Orentan, Laser, but they made a good team together. By the end of the first afternoon, they already had results.
“This is our culprit,” Palmetto announced to Spin, Twist and Kestrel, indicating the screen from a scanning microscope. “As you can see, it looks like a standard rhinovirus just like that of many common colds. In fact, this one is indistinguishable from Rhinovirus A-1169a, a cold virus from Tenos that was first classified by researchers in Merinne.”
“Truly indistinguishable?” Twist asked.
“Under the microscope,” Laser explained, “They appear identical. We ran this one across a database of rhinoviruses and came up with a ninety-three percent match with the catalogued example. That’s very close, by the way. Given the resolution of an electron scan picture combined with variations between individual virii we consider anything over ninety percent an exact match. There are genetic tests that will determine how far this particular virus has mutated from the known type specimen, but those results are not in yet.”
“So it’s just a cold?” Spin asked.
“Obviously not just a cold,” Twist pointed out. “Have you reported this to Ampule yet?”
“Just before you got here,” Laser replied. “We’re trying to culture a better sample.” He indicated an incubator.
Spin tried to study the incubator’s sample, but was not able to make much of it. “I see the magical aura, but it’s so weak and spell diagnostics aren’t really my forte. Twist, you’re much better at that than I am. Can you make out anything?”
“Not really,” Twist admitted. “We’re going to need to study that in actual patients, I think.”
They got their chance an hour and a half later after Ampule had been briefed. “Are you certain you’ll be able to learn more by examining my patients?” he asked while they were changing into their hospital uniforms. Twist, Kestrel and Spin had been given light blue scrubs and loose pants to wear and also wore midnight blue labcoats. The dark blue was to differentiate them from the on-duty doctors who, in this hospital all wore white labcoats. Dressed this way, they were obviously here on hospital business, but no one would mistake them for doctors.
“Certain?” Twist echoed. “Not at all, but there should be a lot more virii in any given patient than inside that incubator. The virus’ aura seems to be a collective thing, so the more virii, the larger and more pronounced the aura. Also how it affects a patient’s aura may be instructive, but we certainly will not know until we look.”
“This way then,” Ampule nodded and led them toward a pair of automatic doors, that slid open as they approached and then slid back immediately after they had crossed the threshold.
“Hey!” a nurse called out as they started toward a second set of doors. She was as short as a Granom but was human and nowhere as heavily built, but Spin noticed she looked strong. She obviously could handle anything that came at her in the line of work. “This is a contagion ward. Nothing is allowed in until it has been sanitized.”
“The staffs have been sanitized, nurse,” Ampule told her.
“Have they, doctor?” the nurse demanded skeptically. “How did you sanitize the wood? And it’s burnt on the ends. It will drop carbon particles everywhere.”
“They were both sterilized magically,” Ampule explained.
“And after two centuries, I doubt there’s a loose speck of ash on the ends,” Twist added.
“I will take responsibility,” Ampule continued.
“It’s on your head then, doctor,” the nurse warned. She wandered off muttering something about the Dark Ages and going to feed the leeches.
The second set of doors opened to reveal a corridor long enough to accommodate ten rooms on each side. The doors to each of the rooms were open, but each doorway was covered with a curtain of overlapping clear plastic strips allowing doctors, nurses and orderlies to come and go without allowing the airborne pathogens from any of the rooms to escape,
“This could be done even more effectively with a ward,” Islandtwist commented thoughtfully.
“It could,” Ampule agreed readily, “but not as efficiently. “Such wards would have to be programmed to block only the germs, but allow anything else to pass. That’s not as easy as it sounds as each specific germ would have to be added to the programming and a new germ wouldn’t be stopped at all. Each door would need a ward generator device and we have a fair number of doors and each device would probably need reprogramming at least once a week. In comparison these strip doors are relatively cheap and they do block everything, especially if we maintain the negative pressure I told you about.”
Twist nodded. “Good point,” she admitted.
“Masks on now,” Ampule told them. He carefully checked to make sure they had put them on properly and guided Spin through a minor adjustment as Kestrel double checked Twist’s mask and then lead them through the first strip door. “Good morning, Miss Fawa,” he greeted the patient inside.
“Good morning, doctor,” she rasped back at him. She was the palest Orente either Spin or Twist had ever seen. Orentan skin tones on the Isle of Fire were noticeably lighter than in Bellinen, but Miss Fawa’s paleness did not seem natural and Twist suddenly realized that the patient had been sick much longer than this new disease had been recognized.
Ampule introduced Twist and Spin, checked Miss Fawa’s pulse, listened to her breathing with a stethoscope, asked how she was feeling and read through her chart while Twist and Spin examined her magically. Finally Ampule turned to the mages and asked, “Well?”
“There’s definitely a magical component to the disease,” Twist told him certainly. “This is not just affecting her magical aura, you can see a faint but different aura from the virus in her sinuses and lungs.”
“Yes, I see what you mean,” Ampule agreed. “Come to think of it, I have seen something like this before although not so pronounced. I wonder if we have been overlooking such natural magic all along.”
“We should probably examine the rest of the patients,” Twist told him, then noticed Spin was still looking at Miss Fawa. “Spin?”
“Hmm?” Spin responded. “Oh sorry. I was certain I would see a sign of the Bond, it would have explained a lot, but there’s no trace of a demonic influence on this. This is something entirely new to me.”
Ampule looked shocked and hurried them out of Miss Fawa’s room to ask with quiet urgency, “How do you know about the Bond of Aritos?”
“We first encountered it some years ago,” Spin replied.
“Then it is real?” Ampule asked. “I’ve heard of it, but…”
“There is something called the Bond of Aritos,” Twist replied, “but it is deceptively named and there are a lot of false rumors about it. That’s all we can say, really.”
“I see,” Ampule nodded. “It came up once in medical school, but we were advised not to ask about it or try to learn more. Naturally some students took that as a challenge.”
“Naturally,” Twist nodded. “Trust me, though. There is no good that ever comes from that spell.”
“I don’t get it,” Kestrel admitted, “What is this Bond of Aritos?”
“Probably the nastiest, dirtiest sort of magic on Maiyim,” Twist told her. “The less you know, the better.”
“I’ve never agreed with that,” Spin commented. “I think more of us could defend against it if we knew about it.”
“But the more who know about it, the more who will be tempted to use it,” Twist countered.
“We already know there are rogue mages who use it,” Spin argued. “With it being kept otherwise secret, they can pretty much do what they want.”
“We’ve discussed this dozens of times, Spin,” Twist reminded him. “Mom keeps telling you why that would be a bad idea.”
“Your Dad agrees with me though,” Spin countered.
“So do I, but teaching about the Bond is not our decision to make.”
“I understand that,” Ampule put in. “There are always subjects it is best not to teach.”
They examined the rest of the patients in the ward and found the same viral aura infecting them. Spin suggested dispelling the magical component of the disease, but both Twist and Ampule stopped him. “We don’t know what that might do,” Ampule explain. It could cure them, or release the virus to do even more than it has already. We will want to test that in the lab before trying it on patients. Besides, no new treatment may be administered without the Department of Health’s approval. This is sort of like why you cannot discuss the Bond with me.”
“The Bond is on a need-to-know basis,” Twist pointed out.
“And this is a government regulation,” Ampule explained. “Governments invented the concept of need-to-know.”
“I thought you worked for the Department of Health,” Spin commented.
“I’m just a hired hand,” Ampule pointed out. “I can advise the department to authorize a new treatment, but cannot authorize it myself. They’ll probably allow us once we have some experimental proof to back up anything we recommend, but we must wait for them to decide. In the meantime we should examine some patients who do not have this particular disease, but who have respiratory problems, just to be sure we aren’t seeing something that is always there.”
It was late afternoon by the time they left the hospital. “We need to get to the Granomish Embassy,” Spin told Ampule. “The princess is giving a press conference this evening and we promised to be on hand to help with security.”
“That’s fine,” Ampule shrugged. “Maybe by morning we’ll have a large enough sample of the virus in the lab to do something with.”
“Speaking of which,” Kestrel commented, “I had better see how my grad students are doing. Want to meet for breakfast? Good. I’ll pick you up.”
On return to the Granomish embassy, Spin and Twist found Ilyana with Mila and Dusya watching a Tri-Vee newscast. “Not looking for yourself are you?” Spin joked.
“I’ve seen myself from every unflattering side imaginable on the screen before,” Ilyana laughed. “The novelty wore off long ago. No, I’m watching for news of the epidemic, since it’s all too likely I’ll be asked about it.”
“Why?” Spin asked.
“Because I’ve put my tour on hold on its account, of course,” Ilyana explained.
“Just explain that you have been advised to take no unnecessary chances,” Twist told her.
“That sounds a little cowardly to me,” Ilyana replied.
“Then explain that such illnesses spread easily through a large gathering of people,” Twist countered, “and that you would not want to be the cause of further suffering or something like that.”
“That might work,” Ilyana nodded. “You’ve actually been out investigating it. What can you tell me?”
“Nothing you don’t already know,” Spin replied. “It is very contagious and at the moment there is no known cure although the Department of Health is searching for one. I could give you more details, but until the Health Department releases them to the public, it would probably not be a wise diplomatic move for you to do so.”
“Reasonable,” Ilyana admitted.
“In other news, there is still no word from the two mining ships that disappeared in the outer solar system last week,” a Tri-Vee anchorman was saying. “A spokesman from the Talinca Company’s mining division said today that the two ships had been investigating a new source of monopoles together. Magnetic monopoles are extremely rare particles of magnetic material that have either a positive or negative charge without the corresponding opposite as a normal magnet would. The spokesman went on to say that it is likely that if the concentration of monopoles is dense enough it might be interfering with the miners’ communications equipment so there is no need for alarm and though the company has requested assistance from the Grannom Aerospace Force to verify the two ships are safe.
“Also in the outer system, it appears that large mysterious object we reported recently has collided with an even larger asteroid, knocking it out of its previous orbit,” the newscaster continued. “Both objects appear to be headed toward the inner system together now. Astronomers tell us there is no need for concern even though they will come within three astronomical units of Maiyim, one third the distance the mysterious asteroid would have come on its own.
“Tonight, Princess Ilyana of Granom will break her silence at a press conference and explain…” Ilyana turned off the Tri-Vee set then.
“We know that already,” she remarked. “At least I don’t have to worry about being asked about that asteroid. Really. What could I tell them anyway? Let’s have tea, shall we? We have time before the press conference.”
Plagues of any sort were particularly feared on the Isle of Fire and a week later, with no announced breakthroughs, the populace, already nervous about “Arithan’s Disease,” was showing signs of panic. Without a public schedule to keep, Ilyana had spent more time than originally planned talking to President Sirabawa in spite of having moved to the Granomish embassy as planned. She felt she was making good progress toward gaining him as an official ally, but when he got sick himself, Sirabawa had been forced to cancel all meetings with Her Highness for the duration of his illness. This left Ilyana truly at leisure for the first time in years and because of her worry for the president’s health, she found she needed to do something of value.
“I would like to help you in your investigation of the disease,” Ilyana announced to Spin and Twist one morning over breakfast.
“Absolutely not!” Mila exclaimed loudly.
“Who is the princess?” Ilyana asked archly.
“You are, Your Highness,” Mila replied, “but…”
“And who are the bodyguards?” Ilyana pressed.
“We are, Your Highness,” Mila replied, “and allowing you to expose yourself to the disease would be unthinkable.”
“Islandtwist and Spinnaker do not seem to have contracted it,” Ilyana noted, “and they have been investigating for a while now. What is the incubation time? Do you know?”
“Most victims begin to exhibit symptoms within forty-eight hours of exposure,” Twist replied, “A few might take as long as four to five days, I understand, however.”
“And you have been working with it for over a week now,” Ilyana commented.
“We have,” Twist nodded. “Mila, I do not think Ilyana would be any more at risk in the University laboratory than she is sitting with us in this room. And the few times we have examined patients we’ve been fully gowned and masked. The threat is minimal, I think.”
“It is even less if Her Highness stays in the embassy,” Mila maintained.
“But I will not,” Ilyana decided. “I accomplish nothing here. At least with my cousins I might do something worthwhile.”
“Such as?” Mila demanded.
“You have to admit that I have the sort of prestige that could open doors that might otherwise be shut,” Ilyana pointed out, “and it would not be the first time I have visited sick people in a hospital.”
“You probably won’t be doing much of that here,” Spin pointed out. “Most of the support we need is in organizing and analyzing the data we collect. We have graduate students to do that.”
“And I can too,” Ilyana insisted. “Please?”
That turned out to be the magic word, although Mila continued to argue about it all the way to the University that morning. Once at the lab, however, Mila fell into her role as Ilyana’s companion and worked with the princess and Dusya as they learned about magic and diseases. Ilyana, once she knew enough to help, was aghast by the way the grad students had been organizing the computer files, but Kestrel admitted that was her fault, “I’ve never been one for office work, but I can usually find what I’m looking for.”
“And the times you can’t find something,” Ilyana countered, “what do you do then? Do without, maybe? We can’t afford that, so I’d better get this organized.”
Kestrel shrugged and waved her to one of the laboratory’s workstations. “Go ahead,” she told Ilyana resignedly. “It can’t hurt, I suppose.” By the end of the next day, however, Kestrel had to admit Ilyana had known what she was doing. “This is actually very good,” Kestrel praised Ilyana. “How did you figure out how to categorize everything.”
“I’ve been asking questions,” Ilyana replied as though it had been obvious. “Whenever I encountered something I didn’t know I would ask someone about it. I have to admit I knew almost nothing about magic. As a magic-null, why would I, right? But I’m learning. Anyway, as I went it became obvious that we needed to cross reference magical symptoms and physical ones and well as the microscopic scans of the virii and the measurements of their auras. I do have a question, though. What is the difference between curse and a regular magical spell. It seems to me that they are identical.”
“That’s because a curse is any spell that is cast against a person with malicious purpose,” Kestrel explained. “There are a few exceptions, but most are not actually evil, just magic used in a malicious manner. Technically, if I use telekinesis to shove someone out of my way, that would be a curse, although we usually just think of it as rude behavior.”
Twist, who had been working nearby with Laser and Palmetto, spoke up, “There are some genuinely evil spells. They are true fairytale curses, but you won’t find them taught in any school. Somehow, mages learn them anyway.”
“Of course they do,” Ilyana replied. “I had a professor back at university whose pet theory was that nothing is invented more than once. I’m not sure I agree with that. It seems to be that in pre-contact Maiyim, Granomen, Orenta and Humans must have had to each invent things for themselves. He countered that what our historians call the ‘Pre-Contact Era’ is inaccurate; that Contact was actually the beginning of regular interaction between the archipelagos. He believed and had some fair archaeological proof that there had been irregular and sporadic contact as far back as the Old Stone Age.
“In any case,” Ilyana went on, “he said there is an innate desire in most people to share what they know.”
“I’ve met a lot of selfish people,” Kestrel pointed out.
“True,” Ilyana nodded, “but the urge is not necessarily a generous one, or so he said. Whether it is done for the betterment of all or just to show off or to make oneself feel superior to others, it still happens.”
“And you believe that?” Kestrel asked skeptically.
“I’m on the fence,” Ilyana admitted. “Oh, I’ll admit it’s a theory, not just some wild hypothesis. There is some proof to it, I’m just not convinced by the proof. It’s a bit iffy, if you ask me. We can see how the knowledge of an invention spread, assuming the dating is accurate, but chalking it up to basic psychology is the part I doubt. Of course, all the examples given in class upheld the theory, but we don’t know if stone age hunter-gatherers thought the same way as we do about magic. I don’t think they did. We see it as a science these days, for them it was a gift of the gods and very much an art.”
“Not really,” Twist argued. “I’ve met some of the Inalo, or the ‘People of the Fire’ who live in the islands to the south of Rallena and I spoke at length with their shaman. While magic has strongly religious significance to them, it is very scientific. Paru’te was very aware of how his magic worked and was concerned with reproducible results. There was none of the fairytale book waving of the hands and wishing on a star. Oh, a lot of what he did was ceremonial – most people do not need magic to earn a living or make a meal – a lot of it was in the minds of his people. For example, among the Inalo, women do not hunt. However, sometimes a person who was born female has the desire to hunt anyway so Paru’te could change their gender, making that woman a man. It was what anthropologists refer to as an accommodation ceremony and perhaps part of the reason why so many people do not think primitive cultures had scientific magic. The accommodation ceremony declared that the woman was now a man and therefore was allowed on the hunt. Paru’te told me that many such ‘converted men’ would even marry women and act like men in other ways. The magic there was in the people’s minds, but they had real magic too and Paru’te very much knew the difference.”
“Wait a minute” Ilyana stopped her. “These women acted like men?”
“Culturally, they were men after the ceremony,” Twist explained, “even if physiologically there were still women. I never discussed it, but I imagine there were some men who used such a ceremony to become women. When you get right down to it, it is how their culture accommodates homosexuality.”
“But what if a woman wanted to hunt, but still be a woman?” Ilyana asked.
“She would have been thought quite odd,” Twist replied, “but she might have been allowed to hunt by some of the men at least. There is no actual taboo against women hunting. I was allowed to go on a hunt with them, in fact, but in their culture it is not natural for a woman to want to hunt. I certainly did not meet any while I was among them. But my point, before we got distracted, is that they know the difference between religious and cultural ceremonies and real magic and they take a quite scientific approach to it. They know magic most modern mages do not and we know stuff they don’t. I traded a few spells with Paru’te, in fact. They have the best approach to fire tending magic I have ever encountered and it must have taken centuries to perfect.”
“But according to my history classes,” Kestrel cut in, “the scientific method of magical research was not adopted until the end of the Age of Faith.”
“Readopted, if you ask me,” Twist countered. “The Age of Faith was not a time of rampant invention. Creative thinking was suppressed so while there were improvements in magic, there was very little invention until near the end of the period. The people of that time believed that the mages of the ancient world had known all there was to know and that there was nothing new to learn. In this modern age we understand that we know only an infinitesimal bit of all there is to learn.
“It is possible that the Inalo have a scientific approach to magic due to seasonal contact with the southern trading towns and cities of Emmine,” Twist allowed, “but I really do not think so. Their boats, however do prove that primitive cultures were capable of building craft that could cross from one of the major archipelagos to the next, so you may be right, Ilyana, and inventions happen only once.”
“I’m sure there are exceptions,” Ilyana took the other side of the argument. “There is always some lost knowledge from the past that is regained via experimentation.”
“Some might argue that merely knowing something can be done, means that recreating it is a matter of rediscovery and not invention,” Kestral replied thoughtfully.
“What’s the difference?” Twist challenged, “but the whole point I was making about evil spells only supports the one-time invention theory. The knowledge of how they work is generally suppressed. Certainly it is never taught in class and yet they do resurface from time to time. In each generation someone learns them and passes the knowledge on in some way to other mages.”
“I have heard there are books on demonic magic in the library of the University at Merinne,” Kestrel added. “That could account for much of that.”
“It might at that,” Twist admitted, “and knowing how to counter a spell means you know how it was cast in the first place and we know that some mages go rogue.”
“What makes a rogue mage?” Ilyana asked.
“A rogue is anyone using magic to break the law,” Twist replied. “The penalty used to be death since no jail could hold a mage until the invention of the null magic field generator. Now days they are subjected to the Curse of Arithan,” She went on to explain that.
“That’s horrible!” Ilyana exclaimed disgustedly.
“So is using magic to hurt or enslave people,” Twist countered. “but how did we get on to this?”
“I asked about the difference between a curse and other magic,” Ilyana reminded her. “I was curious since some of the database included comparisons to known curses. Knowing the difference helps me sort them out.” She stopped a moment then coughed slightly to clear her throat. “Excuse me. I seem to have a scratchiness in my throat. Maybe I should be drinking more water.”
“A scratchiness?” Kestrel asked suddenly. “Like with a cold?”
“Well, maybe,” Ilyana shrugged. “It’s not too bad.”
“Palmetto,” Kestrel spoke to the medical student. “Get a sample of the princess’ saliva and analyze it. Use mask and gloves. Take no chances.”
“It could just be a dry throat,” Ilyana protested. “The humidity in here is low.”
“Let’s not take chances,” Kestrel told her. “You were with President Serabawa before he came down with the disease, weren’t you? You may have caught it from him.”
Ilyana’s face went slightly translucent, but she allowed Palmetto to take samples.
“I doubt she caught it from the president,” Twist disagreed. “It’s been too long since they were together. I thought you’ve been confined to the Embassy.”
“I have,” Ilyana nodded, “but no one else has, especially the kitchen staff.”
“And you spend your spare time in the kitchen,” Twist recalled. “We’ll have to check the kitchen staff. Well, no helping that now. Let’s see what you have before we start to panic.”
Over an hour later, Ilyana’s nose was running and her throat was considerably sorer when the results came back. “Look at the scan,” Palmetto instructed the others. “Outwardly it is the same rhinovirus as Arithan’s Disease but there’s a big difference. Check the sample I had in the incubator.”
“What am I looking for?” Twist asked. “This can’t have been incubating long enough for a good test sample. It’s only been an hour.”
“We’ll keep it in the oven overnight and for a few days to be sure,” Palmetto replied, “but even now you can see it or, rather, not see it. There’s no viral aura on this sample.”
Two days later they were certain, “The virus is just a common cold,” Wizard Ampule announced to Spinnaker, “but it seems to have evolved a natural ability for magic. It is the magic that is keeping victims sick.” They were sitting in the wizard’s university office drinking coffee that had been on the burner far too long. Spin had been looking out of Ampule’s window at the campus where crocuses were sprouting in the grass of the area between the buildings. He turned suddenly when Ampule’s words sunk in.
“So the cure is to round up everyone who is afflicted and run them through a null magic field?” Spin asked. “That’s going to take some time. The more advanced patients can’t walk without assistance and you’ll do all sorts of damage if you try setting up a null magic field in the hospital.”
“Plus there are, by some estimates, thousands of people who have not gone to the hospital but who are home sick,” Ampule replied. “Besides, a null magic field only suppresses the magic aura temporarily. Once out of the field, it regenerates.”
“That’s odd,” Spin remarked. “Ilyana’s natural null magic field obliterated all magical traces from the virus.”
“I know,” Ampule nodded. “Apparently a null magic field generator does not work precisely the way a magic-null person’s natural field does. Either that or something else is at work. How is the Princess, by the way?”
“She’s fine,” Spin replied. “She took half of yesterday off, but the boredom got to her, so she slipped on a mask, has been constantly sanitizing her hands and is back to work. The cold is apparently a fairly mild one as these things go, or maybe she has some natural partial resistance to this strain.”
“That’s possible or else the magic of the virus lowers others’ resistance to the virus,” Ampule admitted. “In any case I just had a call from the Secretary of Health. It appears that while we’ve been buried in research he’s been quietly been asking for help all over the world. Bellinen just announced their medical researchers have a cure and that they are sending thousands of doses to us on the next plane.”
“A cure?” Spin asked skeptically. “Fast work if you ask me.”
“Maybe not,” Ampule shook his head. “You’ll recall we identified the basic strain as identical, or nearly so to one that was native to Bellinen. Maybe they have been quietly fighting this same disease. You know how Bellinen never admits to problems or failures.”
“Maybe,” Spin allowed, “but I still find it amazing that they could claim to have a cure within days. Not only a cure, but that have managed to develop a specific anti-viral and manufactured enough of it to cure all our known cases? I don’t believe that for a moment.”
“Neither do I, really,” Ampule admitted. “I’ve urged the Secretary to allow us to test the cure, a pill if you can believe it, in the lab before releasing it to the public, but he refused. He says the populace is scared and since they know there is a cure coming they are demanding it immediately.”
“Huh? I’m not a medical wizard by any means,” Spin admitted, “but even I want to know what sort of tests were done with this medication, how effective it was and what, if any, side effects there were.”
“I told him something along those lines,” Ampule replied. “I might not have been as polite and restrained as you were just now, though. He will send us a small sample of the pills later today as part of the distribution process of the main supply.”
“So we get to test it for safety after everyone takes it?” Spin asked incredulously. “Where is that man’s brain?”
“In a jar, I fear,” Ampule replied. “The current administration is new and still trying to make good on campaign promises. Also the President’s party is the minority party in the Senate and I suspect he and his people feel they are under pressure to show fast and effective results or face a recall vote in the Senate.”
“Darned stupid way to run a health department,” Spin grumbled. “Later today? Let’s take a closer look at the magical component of the virus samples we have in the meantime. I’ll call Twist and see where she and Kestrel are.”
Islandtwist and Kestrel were a few blocks away at a small breakfast diner on the edge of campus. It was a noisy little place with the buzz of conversation all but drowning out the sound from various Tri-Vee screens set around the restaurants. Customers could select one of several channels to watch and had the option of turning on or off the speakers in their booths. There was a news program on the screen nearest to Twist and Kestrel, but they had turned off the sound even though they could still hear it from other booths if they listened hard enough.
“If you look around,” Kestrel told Twist, “you’ll see a fair percentage of the faculty. This is the best place to have an unscheduled interdepartmental meeting. Just spot the one you want to talk to and go for it. I think we get more accomplished in here than any forced meetings the dean sets up.”
“The coffee isn’t bad either,” Twist remarked. “Wait. What’s happening on the screen?” She reached to turn the sound on.
“…in,” the Announcer was saying. On the screen a large military transport plane could be seen landing at the Rjalkatyp aerospace port. There was a small verbal insert over the three-dimentional display that said, “Live”. “President Wonitawa of Bellinen has announced that scientists at Merinne University have developed a cure for Arithans Disease and that Bellinen Naval Air is rushing thousands of doses to Rjalkatyp. Here you can see the first of several shipments arriving.”
“A cure?” Kestrel scoffed. “Not unless they had it ready before the first reported case.” Her’s was not the only disbelieving voice in the room.
“Shh!” Twist told her, trying to hear the rest of the report.
“President Serabawa’s office reports that the first cures will be distributed within the hour,” the announcer continued, “and goes on to thank President Wonitawa and all of Bellinen for their continuing friendship toward the Isle of Fire.”
“He does?” Twist asked. “That’s a first for Serabawa.”
“What else is he going to say?” Kestrel shrugged. “Do you expect him to spit in Bellinen’s eye and refuse the cure? Also I may be parsing the words too much, but I notice it was the president’s office who issued the statement. The president himself is laid up with Arithan’s Disease.”
“We have to get back to the lab,” Twist decided. “Spin and Ampule need to know about this.”
By the time they had arrived, Ilyana was there as well along with the graduate student staff of the project and the entire laboratory was humming with activity. While the students and Ampule rushed back and forth, Ilyana was speaking earnestly into a comm unit with the video circuit turned off at the far end for privacy.
“We’ve heard,” Spin told Twist when she tried to repeat the news. “That’s why we’re all so frantic. We’ve been taking a new and much closer look at the magical component of the disease and not much liking what we have found.”
“What have you learned?” Twist asked.
“Well, when we heard about the so-called cure, Ampule and I got understandably suspicious. I tried to call you right away,” Spin added.
“Sorry,” Twist apologized. “I left my comm in our rooms at the embassy this morning.”
“I figured as much,” Spin nodded. “No harm done. Well, you know we originally thought that this virus was a natural mage similar to dragons and serps. That hypothesis flew in the face of accepted theory, that nothing less than a fully independent organism could be magical in that manner, but theories have been discredited before.”
“And standing by a theory when the evidence begins to pile up against you is bad science,” Twist nodded. “So you concluded that the magical aura was part of a deliberately cast spell?”
“That’s the notion we are working on,” Spin confirmed, “and you know what? If you dispel the magic, another spell is released. The spell we were observing had two functions. The obvious one was to keep victims sick.”
“And?” Twist prompted him.
“It’s also an amulet spell,” Spin replied. “You know, like the one Oceanvine the Younger developed for her thesis? It’s similar to that one too, but the spell signature is masked by that of the more obvious part. But guess what?”
“It was cast by tech-magic?” Twist replied.
“How’d you figure that out?” Spin asked.
“Just guessing,” Twist admitted, “but it makes sense. How did you and Ampule figure it out?”
“Neither of us did,” Spin chuckled. “That was Laser’s work. He found the spell signature in a reference of known Tech-magic factories.”
“I’ll go out on a limb here,” Twist remarked. “And is that factory in Bellinen?”
“Not just in Bellinen,” Spin replied. “Tremulo and Aiwa, Ltd. The parent company of Killo Magic, Inc. According to Laser’s analysis we have a ninety-eight point five percent confidence that the amulet spell was generated by one of their devices.”
“The same company that produced that incredibly small null magic field generator in Castelon,” Twist identified the name.
“You got it,” Spin nodded. “We haven’t figured out the spell that was contained, however. It only activates momentarily. “Ampule believes it is set to dissipate if it has no subject to attack.”
“Can we infect a lab rat or something like it?” Twist asked.
“We tried,” Spin shook his head. “The spell must be species-specific. We don’t like it, but we’re going to have to wait for a human subject.”
“You mean ask for a volunteer?” Ilyana asked as she deactivated the comm she had been speaking into.
“You can’t volunteer,” Twist told her. “You nullified both spells with your own null magic, fortunately.”
“Oh, I understand that,” Ilyana replied, “but it seems to me that by the end of the day, we’ll have a lot of subjects to study.”
“I hope not,” Twist replied. “Maybe Bellinen’s cure will really work.”
“I expect it to work,” Ilyana replied grimly. “We just don’t know what it will do. I was just on the phone trying to talk President Serabawa from having the cure distributed until we can analyze it, but I can’t even get through to him. I suspect he’s completely incapacitated by the disease. I could only speak to his aides and they refused to tell me anything. I got a lot of promises that we would speak once he has time and that’s about it.”
“Heads up,” Kestrel called from the other side of the lab. She was turning up the volume on a Tri-Vee set. Projected in front of the screen, they could all see boxes of the supposed cure being loaded into various military vehicles while an announcer explained that the cure would be available at all hospitals in Rjalkatyp within the hour and that if anyone could not get to the hospital they should call and arrangements would be made.
“In other news,” the announcer went on, “long range telescopes have picked up signs of heavy space craft activity around a distant asteroid. This is the same asteroid that was recently knocked out of its orbit by a collision with an extra-system object.” The newscaster continued on by calling on a panel of an astronomer, a deep space engineer and a military consultant. The three discussed the possible ramifications of the sighting and eventually agreed that the whole thing was either a top secret government installation belonging to one or more of the three big powers on Maiyim or else was a project being conducted by a consortium of independent miners. They all agreed that the large object that had been thought to be an extra-system asteroid with a high albedo was now more likely to have been the craft or crafts that were associated with the unknown project.
“I doubt it’s anyone from Granom out there,” Ilyana commented. “I’m fairly certain I would have heard.”
“I might be able to find out if it’s an Emmine project,” Twist replied, but privately she knew it was not.
Just then Spin’s comm implant was activated and he answered, “Hello?”
“You need to see the news,” Maiyim told him urgently. “Why doesn’t Twist answer?”
“She left her comm in the room again, Maiyim,” Spin replied, grinning even though Maiyim could not see him, “and we’ve seen the news.”
“I think you need to talk to Methis,” Maiyim suggested.
“Can you patch me through?” Spin asked. “We can both talk to her.” As he said that, he gestured to Twist and cocked his head toward the door from the lab. “Let’s find a quiet room.”
“Going somewhere?” Ampule asked as they started from the room.
“Minor family situation,” Spin replied smoothly. “We’ll be back in a few.”
Ampule nodded and let them pass. “Use my office,” he offered. It’s just a few doors down.”
“Thanks,” Twist told him.
“No answer from Methis’ Forge,” Maiyim reported as Spin and twist headed for Ampule’s office. “She must be out.”
“That’s a first,” Spin noted. “Oh wait, is She in Olen?”
“Not until next week,” Maiyim replied. “I could try searching to see if She has a mobile comm number.”
“I’m sure She does,” Spin replied, “but first try ringing up Doctor Face’s office in Medon.”
“He would just be getting in,” Maiyim remarked. “I’m trying his number now.”
“Artemus Face,” they heard the voice of Aritos say as they entered Ampule’s office.
“Hi, Artifice,” Jerry greeted Him. “Have you seen the news?”
“I was just watching,” Aritos replied. “I assume you are referring to the space ships around the displaced asteroid?”
“I am,” Spin replied. “Hold on a moment. I’ll transfer this call to the screen here and we can all see and hear each other.” A moment later the Tri-Vee scree lit up with stereoscopic images of Aritos and Mayim side by side.
“Ah, four of us then,” Aritos noted. “So now what do you need to know, assuming I can tell you?”
“We already know those are Tzali ships,” Spin told him, “so are we cleared to start talking about them?”
“Time is essential, you know,” Twist added.
“I agree,” Aritos agreed, “but not yet, I’m afraid. They need to be recognized for what they are first.”
“Every government on Maiyim knows those ships aren’t theirs,” Twist pointed out.
“True,” Aritos nodded, “but they don’t know that they are alien yet. I know it’s hard to be silent about it, but you are going to have to sit tight a bit longer.”
“I was afraid that might be the answer,” Spin admitted. “I had to ask, though.”
“If you don’t ask, you won’t know,” Aritos agreed.
“Maybe it is just as well in the short run,” Twist put in. “We’re rather caught up in a job right now.”
“Has Princess Ilyana been sneaking off again?” Aritos asked with a chuckle.
“She’s been a good girl since we got to Rjalkatyp,” Spin replied, “and a valued part of the team. We’re investigating Arithan’s Disease.”
“Whatever that illness is” Aritos informed them, “It has nothing to do with My son.”
“We know that,” Twist assured him, “but it is rather devilish.”
“We thought the virus was a natural mage,” Spin told Aritos, “but we found spell signatures from a factory in Bellinen.”
“And I see Bellinen claims to have a cure in an amazingly fast time,” Aritos nodded. “I’m by no means omniscient, but I think you have a culprit.”
“But not a motive yet,” Twist remarked. “The spell was at least partially an amulet spell, but we don’t know what happens when the amulet spell is removed.”
“I honestly can’t say,” Aritos admitted, “but I suspect you’ll know shortly. Do you want help with that?”
“That’s tempting,” Spin admitted, “but I think we should handle this one on our own if we can.”
“Good,” Aritos approved. “No matter what you are up against right now, you have much more difficult work ahead of you.”
“No kidding,” Twist laughed mirthlessly, “but this one is hardly our job alone.”
“In many ways, we’re just the hired help,” Spin added.
“We’re getting paid?” Twist asked. “News to me.”
“Okay, so we’re volunteer labor,” Spin shrugged. “I suppose we should get back to work, though. Any idea of how soon it will be before we can start talking about the Tzali?”
“At the moment, that is entirely up to the Tzali,” Aritos replied. “For all I know, they have decided to establish a colony in the outer system rather than trying to attack Maiyim.”
“Do you think they might?” Maiyim asked hopefully.
“Not according to My brothers and sisters,” Aritos shook his head, “but the Tzali are merely mortal and all you mortals have fooled us from time to time.”
President Serabawa beamed at the Tri-Vee cameras. “And I am sure we are all grateful to our perennial friends and allies in Bellinen for providing this miraculous cure to Arithan’s Disease,” he told the reporters in front of him. “Once again we can all see that loyalty to our friends is its own reward. I hereby affirm our allegiance to the alliance with Bellinen in the International Congress. Where Bellinen leads we shall certainly follow.”
“Isn’t that the same thing the opposition leader said?” Spin asked. He was sitting with Ilyana, Twist, Mila, Dusya and Ilyana’s personal secretary at the Granomish embassy, late the evening after the delivery of Bellinen’s miracle cure for Arithan’s Disease.
“Almost word for word,” Ilyana confirmed. “Maybe I do not understand politics here, but you wouldn’t find that happening in Granom.”
“Not in Emmine either,” Twist added. “Even if in agreement, an opposition party will still try to word their announcement so as to imply it was their idea first.”
“Can you tell if there is a spell compelling him to say that?” Ilyana asked curiously.
“From a vid screen image?” Twist countered. “Not hardly. I would need to be in his presence.”
“That’s going to be difficult,” Ilyana admitted. “I’ve been trying to meet with him again but I can’t get past his secretary. I could probably get to him by playing diplomatic hardball, but it’s not likely to happen more than once.”
“Well, we do know there is some sort of spell that was being held until the amulet spell was dissipated,” Spin commented. “I suppose it could be a compulsion spell of some sort.”
“It’s as good a guess as any,” Twist agreed. “There don’t seem to have been any relapses or deaths connected with Bellinen’s cure.”
“It could be a second amulet spell,” Spin pointed out, “or a time bomb spell.”
“A what?” Mila demanded.
“It’s what we call a delayed effect spell,” Spin explained. “The spell is active, but nothing happens for a set amount of time after which it does whatever it is supposed to do.”
“But what is this one supposed to do?” Mila asked.
“I don’t know, but I think a friend of ours was right,” Spin replied. “Tomorrow morning we’re going to have a lot of examples of what happens next. We’ll need a way to examine them, however.”
“I’ll call Kestrel,” Twist offered. “The odds are there will be students in her classes that had the disease but have now been cured. We’ll sit at the back of her classes and take some notes of our own.”
“I always did hate eight o’clock classes,” Twist told Kestrel just before class the next morning.
“They’re even worse to teach than to take,” Kestrel replied knowingly. “You’ll want to sit at the back of the class. There are some lab terminals back there with digitizing sensors. If you spot anything you can record it. If you don’t recognize it, we’ll see if it matches up with any known spells in the University database.”
Islandtwist and Spinnaker sat through Kestrel’s Ward Theory class, keeping an eye on her students. There was no need for them to speak during the lecture, all one needed to do was indicate one of the people in front of them and the other would nod and look for themselves. They kept separate notes, but recorded everything into the University’s computer network while keeping in touch with Wizard Ampule and the others across campus in the medical laboratory. Out of Kestrel’s twenty-three students, eight exhibited an odd spell aura unlike anything either Twist or Spin had seen before. Two others exhibited other strange features attached to their personal auras and they recorded those too and at the end of the class, they showed Kestrel where the affected students has been sitting and Kestrel was able to identify those students.
If they had hoped Ampule and his lab workers would have a handle on the magic involved by the time class was over, they were sorely disappointed. “It matches nothing in our database,” Ampule reported.
“It could be an entirely new spell,” Spin commented.
“It could,” Ampule nodded, “but completely new magic is very rare. Usually we find similarities and those similarities are rated by percentage. For example, a ward which is impervious to everything except oxygen molecules, might be similar to a ward which allows only nitrogen with a rating of ninety-nine percent. Actually they would be much closer than that allowing for differences if not cast by the same mage, but you get the idea. That same oxygen ward might only have a forty-seven percent similarity to a levitation spell.”
“That much?” Spin asked.
“It might be far more similar if cast by the same mage,” Ampule replied. “An analysis might strip off the personal differences depending on why you are making the comparison. If you are trying to determine who cast a spell, then the personal spell signatures are more important that the content of the spell. If you want to compare the spell to others of its class you want to ignore personal differences.
“Two centuries ago,” Ampule went on, “that sort of analysis had to be done entirely by a mage and was more of an art than a science. It was not quantified at all. In fact, what analysis was done relied on a mage’s personal abilities to distinguish differences, much the same as manual diagnostic magic is accomplished now. The difference is that these days most diagnoses of spells can be done by machine.”
“I still prefer to do my own spell analyses,” Twist remarked. “I might not be able to quantify, differences, but I am fairly well-accomplished at figuring out what a spell does by looking at it or even at its traces, and I can do it without access to your University database.”
“You carry your database in your head,” Ampule pointed out, “and I never said there was no place for manual diagnostics. I do the same with medical magic, but I back up my analyses with the computers.”
“We don’t always have that option,” Twist replied. “The sort of work Spin and I do often involves unique magic or else requires us to get results faster than we would, waiting for a database search to give us results.”
“And much of the time proving who cast a certain spell is secondary to making sure they don’t cast one on us first,” Spin added. “Come to think of it, the only time I’ve used computer analysis was in class.”
“Then you two are very unusual mages,” Ampule told them.
“It’s the sort of thing we teach in Olen,” Twist replied. “Some mages think we’re a bit old-fashioned, but knowing how such spells are done manually is essential to knowing how to do them by tech-magic.”
“Point taken,” Ampule allowed, “but in this case you don’t recognize the spell either, do you.”
“True enough,” Twist admitted. “So what is it?”
“Good question,” Ampule replied. “We’ll have to check the databases of the other universities, I think.”
Laser and Kestrel went to work on that, but soon found that while the Universities at Querna’s and Randona’s records were open to them, Merrine’s computer network refused to respond. “They claim they are having temporary communications issues,” Kestrel reported.
“I suppose nothing lasts forever,” Spin remarked.
“We have a match to within ninety-nine point three similarity,” Laser told them just then.
“That was fast,” Twist remarked.
“We probably got lucky,” Laser admitted. “I input what I thought were unusual characteristics of the spell first. I must have chosen something really unique.”
“You had to manually input the spell description?” Spin asked.
“No,” Laser shook his head. “I could have just sent your recordings out as they were, but that leaves it up to the computer to do all the work. What I did was stress certain aspects to check first. That can save hours or even days sometimes and when we came up blank on the local database, I knew we would need to speed things up. Oh, by the way, we identified the two odd spell auras as well. One, the male, was using a mild stimulant spell. I suspect he didn’t have much sleep last night. The woman must have been at a party last night and had been using one of those recreational hallucinogenic spells.”
“She was?” Kestrel asked. “I’ll have to have a talk with her. Those spells can be addictive and even if the one she used was benign, using it all too frequently leads to the worse ones.”
“I wasn’t aware there were such spells,” Twist remarked.
“They are relatively new,” Kestrel replied. “I don’t recall them when we were both in Randona. The word is, they’re another fine import from Bellinen.”
“Any connection to this mystery spell?” Spin asked.
“Not necessarily,” Kestrel shook her head.
“And it’s not a mystery any longer,” Laser replied. “According to the printout it is a variant of something called ‘The Hook.’”
“The Hook?” Twist and Spin asked as one.
“You’ve heard of it?” Wizard Ampule asked.
“Heard of it, yes,” Twist replied, “but I’ve never seen it before.”
“Of course not,” Ampule told her. “Neither have I, but like you I have heard of it.” He turned to include the others. “The Hook is a magical anomaly. It is reputed to be a rather easy spell to cast, but it produces results way out of proportion to the effort it takes to cast the spell. Sadly, it is not a spell that is at all beneficial. It is an enslavement spell. Its most frequent use over the years has been to compel women, and sometimes men, into prostitution, hence the term ‘Hookers.’ However, it has been used to force labor in almost every way imaginable. Twenty years ago there was a case right here in Rjalkatyp in which almost fifty boys were found with their slave-master when police investigated a string of robberies.
“In this case,” Ampule continued, “the Hook has been used to force loyalty to Bellinen. In comparison to previous uses, this is almost subtle, but one thing to remember is that while the Hook forces action, it does not force emotion or belief. While the afflicted people are saying they support our continued alliance with Bellinen, they do not actually believe what they are saying, or at least not all of them are. There are those, quite a few really, who supported the alliance before this happened, but that may change once this is exposed.
“The spell is, of course, never taught in any school, but somehow it surfaces at least once each generation in some form or another,” Ampule went on. “Probably because if you know how to dispel the curse, you will know how to cast it as well. So I’ll warn you all right now, that by being a part of this project, several government agencies will be keeping an eye on you for the rest of your careers to make sure you are not abusing the knowledge I am about to give you. If anyone wishes to avoid that, now is a good time to leave.”
No one left and Ampule proceeded to download the classified instructions on how to dispel and, by extension, cast the Hook. “This is going to take a long time,” Spin remarked.
“And a lot of mages,” Twist added. “I don’t like that part. With that many there’s too much of a chance that one or two will someday be in a position to use the Hook maliciously.”
“If we get the right people cured,” Ampule replied, “the cure can be programed into tech-magic devices.”
“And so can the Hook,” Twist countered. “It’s bad enough that the mage who casts the spell can make anyone the slave-master, not just himself, but to allow this to be done with a tech-magic machine is unconscionable.”
“It could already be done,” Ampule pointed out, “and the secret will be easier to contain this way. The alternative is teaching the spell to every mage in Rjalkatyp. Now, Spinnaker, you said this is going to take a long time? It used to take weeks to completely cure a victim of the Hook. Now it just takes a moment to change the nature of the spell. However, we need to know the exact way to change this one. Then, once we know that, we can have it programmed into a tech-magic cure.”
“This is not the classic Hook,” Spin noted as he read what Wizard Ampule had downloaded. “That one involved spell strings that attached the slave to the master. The version I have seen here is a more modern sort with only a vestigial string.”
“Yes, this variant of the Hook is a modern-style self-contained spell,” Ampule agreed. “In some ways that makes it harder for us to dispel it. The process will take several minutes at least and up to an hour in some subjects, but we also will not have to worry about a slave-master cutting the string and killing the slaves before we can cure them.”
“We need subjects to try this out on,” Kestrel pointed out, “and somehow I don’t think asking for volunteers will help.”
“Could you call those students we found in your class to your office?” Twist asked.
“I could,” Kestrel nodded, “but I have another class next period. I suspect we’ll have more subjects to work with there. Ampule do you think you could do this from the back of a classroom?”
“It does not seem too difficult,” Ampule replied.
Administering the cure turned out to be a relatively simple process, although as Ampule had predicted, some subjects were more resistant to any changes to the curse that afflicted them, but one-by-one over the course of a fifty minute class, Ampule, Twist and Spin managed to cure all eleven of the students who were under the variant of the Hook.
“That will be easy to program into a device,” Ampule told them after the students had left the room.
Kestrel added, “I think we may even be able to broadcast the cure throughout Rjalkatyp, but first we must get President Serabawa to approve it.”
“Broadcast it how?” Ampule asked. “Not via a radio or a comm tower.”
“No, but we use tech-magic to generate power,” Kestrel pointed out.
“So there is always a trace of magical energy mixed up with our electricity. Not much, but I think it should act as a carrier wave onto which to piggy-back our counter-curse.”
“Very clever,” Ampule commended her. “Not only will that lift the curse from everyone at once, but it will also minimize the chance of the secret of the Hook falling into the wrong hands.”
President Serabawa, however, refused to take any calls from Wizard Ampule and threatened to dismiss the Secretary of Health when Ampule tried to gain access to the president through him. Ilyana proved to still have some presidential access, however, when she contacted Serabawa’s personal secretary and told the man that she wished to bid farewell to the president officially before leaving the island nation.
As before, Ilyana was accompanied by her companion/guards including both Spin and Twist. On seeing the two mages, however, Serabawa instantly left the room before they could act and sent word back that he would only meet with Ilyana in private. “Now what?” she asked the others. “He is still under the curse and we must release him.”
“If he were a Granom back home,” Mila commented, “we could simply hold him down until the job was done and he was cured.”
“That is not an option here,” Ilyana replied, “and if interrupted it would be grounds for war, I should think.”
“Perhaps I can help Your Highness,” a tall Orente in a formal suit offered from the doorway. Looking over, they all recognized Serabawa’s butler. “You need not look so surprised, Your Highness. I am the butler of the presidential mansion and as such I serve the nation as much as I serve the president himself. If President Serabawa is acting under the influence of a curse from Bellinen, we must certainly see that it is dispelled.”
“So you do not approve of an alliance with Bellinen?” Spin asked.
“My politics are not at issue here,” the butler responded stiffly. “My first loyalty is to the Isle of Fire and if Bellinen is attempting to coerce an alliance by such underhanded means, then perhaps it is time we broke our ties with Bellinen. Your Highness and your companions might not be able to hold Mister Serabawa down while you effect your cure, but I assure you I and my staff can. Follow me, please.”
Ilyana looked briefly at Spin and Twist. Spin shrugged and shot her a crooked grin, so she rose to her feet and, with the others, followed the butler through the corridors of the presidential mansion and into the private living quarters. Along the way, the butler nodded to two staff members, both heavily-built Granomen and they fell in with the odd procession. Finally, they found President Serabawa in his private study.
“What?” Serabawa demanded. “How dare you come in here uninvited?”
“Sir,” the butler replied with false deference, “I really think you should hear what Her Highness has to say.”
“I don’t have to stay here and listen to this,” Serabawa muttered, getting to his feet, but the two Granomish servants, forced him back into his chair. “You’re fired!” the president screamed, “all of you!”
“I believe the sooner you finish, the better off we all will be, sir and madam,” the butler told Spin and Twist.
The President fought them every step of the way, but it only took about ten minutes to finally free him of the curse. As the Hook was lifted from him, Serabawa slumped back into his chair exhausted and Twist apologized, “Sorry, but it would have gone easier for you had you not fought so.”
“No need to apologize,” Serabawa told her weakly. “You did what you had to do and I thank you. We’ll need to free my wife as well, but she is out in the city right now. Some sort of charity event.”
“We also need to free the thousands of others who had the so-called Arithan’s Disease,” Spin pointed out. “but with an executive order, we think we can do so with a minimum of disruption.” Together he, Twist and Ilyana explained why they would need to keep the project as secret as possible.
“Very clever of Bellinen,” Serabawa admitted at last, “and given our history with that nation very few would have suspected anything out of the ordinary. I would hardly have been the first politician to say one thing while campaigning and doing just the opposite once in office. I can see, however, that my campaign must have alarmed Bellinen, frightened them into thinking the Isle of Fire would ally against them. We might not have, of course. It had been my plan to return to our more normal neutral stance in the International Congress, siding in whichever way would most benefit the Isle of Fire. Our strength has always been as a peacemaker between the two main sides, Bellinen and Granom-Emmine. It has only been during the last two presidential administrations that we became more strongly aligned with Bellinen.
“So, Bellinen got scared, I think, and decided to do something to ensure our allegiance to them,” Serabawa continued. “That was foolish.”
“It nearly worked,” Ilyana pointed out. “Had I not been here at this time and had my grandfather not insisted that I bring my Emmine cousins with me, it’s quite likely they would have succeeded.”
“Wizard Ampule might have figured it out on his own,” Twist remarked. “The cure was his project, after all. We were part of his team, after all.”
“And I shall see that he is properly recognized for his part in this,” Serabawa nodded, “but how do we release the rest of the populace from this ‘Hook?’”
Spin and Twist outlined Ampule’s plan along with Kestrel’s solution of using the local power grid to spread the counter-curse. “So this Master Kestrel must also be duly recognized,” the president commented, “but I suspect you two are downplaying your own roles in what has happened.”
“They are,” Ilyana told him. “They were every bit as important to the cure as Ampule and Kestrel were.”
“We were a part of the team,” Spin pointed out, “just as you were, Your Highness. It was the team that accomplished what we did. No single one of us did it all. I’m not sure any one of us could have done it all, for that matter. But let’s worry about who to praise after we finish the job. Mister President, we need access to a tech-magic plant that can cobble together a customized device and we need to do so in the strictest secrecy. One of us, probably Wizard Ampule, will program the actual device since we cannot allow even the tech-mages at the plant to know exactly what we are programing in. So we need your executive order.”
“And you will have it immediately,” Serabawa promised. “Let’s go to my office and we shall take care of that.”
They rushed back through the hallways of the mansion and soon had a freshly signed executive order allowing them power to do what had to be done. The order itself would have been easy to abuse as it was so unspecific as to allow the mages access to anything they desired, but none of them were about to betray the trust, President Serabawa showed by signing the document.
“Now,” Serabawa remarked grimly as he handed the document to Spin, “how to pay back Bellinen appropriately. This was an act of war, after all.”
“It was,” Ilyana agreed, “and I am sure Granom would publically and officially agree as well, but for the benefit of all your people and mine, I think your best revenge will be to oppose them in the International Congress.”
“You’re right, Princess,” Serabawa agreed. “All this was done to make us their puppet in the Congress. We’ll see how they like it when they realize they have made an enemy.”
The mages worked all night to prepare the necessary tech-magic machine. The task was difficult as none of the mages had ever programed a tech-magic device and they dared not allow the tech-mages they were working with know the details of the spell they were programming in. “State secret,” Ampule told them. “I’d be happy to share, but none of you have the necessary clearance. Normally, I wouldn’t have it either, but I had already been read into this project before it got to this level. We’ll just have to do this the hard way.”
It turned out that Spinnaker was best suited to program the necessary counter-curse into the device and after several attempts he finally got it exactly right. “You’re a fast learner,” the head tech-mage complimented him. “No offense, but it usually takes days to get one of you old-style mages to get your head around recording a spell this way.”
“Spin’s training has been very unusual,” Twist commented.
“Maybe,” Spin allowed, “but I still would not have expected to be any better at this than the rest of you.”
“Maybe you just have the natural aptitude,” The tech-mage remarked. “Even in tech-magic some students are better at this than others.”
“Now where would be the best place to deploy this?” Kestrel wondered. “Could we just plug it in, so to speak here?”
“We could,” Ampule nodded, “but I think it will be deployed most efficiently from the central power plant.”
By nightfall the entire island had been cured of the effects of Arithan’s Disease, save for a few lingering coughs, runny noses and other cold symptoms.
Twist and Spin were relieved when Ilyana announced she intended to go to sleep early that evening, because it meant that they could as well. They had only been asleep an hour however, when both Twist’s and Spin’s comm units woke them up simultaneously.
“Maiyim again, you think?” Twist asked, reaching for her phone.
“Has to be,” Spin agreed.
“Hello?” they asked in unison.
“This is it!” Maiyim told them excitedly.
“What is?” Spin asked.
“Invasion,” Maiyim reported. “The Tzali are here!”
“Here?” Twist asked. “On Maiyim.”
“Not quite,” the voice of Methis cut in. “Hi, kids. Aritos and I are here with Maiyim. Dear,” she told Maiyim, “maybe I had better tell this. Twist, Spin, Bellinen’s space platform at the L5 point is under attack and a fleet of ships has been spotted on course for Midbar. This is already being reported by the news media and the ships have been recognized as like nothing built on Maiyim. You are now free to talk about them.”
“Not exactly great timing,” Twist remarked. “We’re still picking up the pieces here in Rjalkatyp.”
“Good,” Aritos cut in. “You can brief the president there and then move on to the International Congress.”
“You know, now that the time has come,” Spin commented, “it occurs to me that we’re going to have quite a credibility problem. We can’t exactly admit that we’ve known for years this was coming. People will want to know how we knew and admitting that the Gods told us but swore us to secrecy is not going to go over all that well.”
“You’re really just coming to that conclusion now?” Aritos asked, sounding amused.
“I’m only mortal,” Spin admitted, “and I might have had one or two other things on my mind the last few months.”
“I think you are going to have to trust someone who likewise trusts you,”
Aritos advised. “You’ve been making friends in high places over that last few years.”
“Freddy would be the best one to bring in,” Twist decided.
“He isn’t in Rjalkatyp, though,” Spin replied. “If we want to talk to President Serabawa, we’ll have to do so with Princess Ilyana.”
“I’ll talk to Freddy tonight,” Maiyim promised. “And I’ll have him call you in the morning.”
“But Ilyana is going to think we’ve gone crazy,” Twist pointed out.
“Not if we tell her what we know came from Freddy,” Spin replied. “Maiyim can imply her knowledge came from us by way of Ilyana.”
“I’m not sure I could lie about that,” Maiyim admitted.
“I can,” Methis told her. “We’ll merely mention we spoke to Spin and Twist who are with Ilyana in Rjalkatyp. I’ll set up the circumstance and you can then spill the news.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be staying out of this?” Spin asked suspiciously.
“I’m not actually going to tell Lord Olen anything to do with the Tzali that has not been reported,” Methis replied. In fact, I think we will let the Tri-Vee screen in your cabin tell the whole story. Speaking of which, you had better wake the princess up while we do the same to His Lordship.”
“We’ll call you back after we’ve spoken to the president, then,” Twist promised. Spin was already headed for the door. “Spin where are you going?”
“To get Mila or Dusya to wake Ilyana up,” Spin replied. “They’ll kill me if I try to do it myself.”
A few minutes later they were in Ilyana’s suite watching the reports as they came in on the news. “I thought you were playing some sort of tasteless joke,” she admitted, staring at the display unbelievingly. “Invaders from a distant star. It’s like a bad movie.”
“We need to brief President Serabawa, Ilyana,” Twist told her for the third time.
“Yes,” Ilyana nodded. “And I need to call home too.”
“Call your grandfather first,” Spin advised. “It’s breakfast time in Querna so he’ll be awake.”
“I’m sure the president is up too by now,” Ilyana pointed out. “I doubt there’s a national leader getting sleep anywhere on Maiyim tonight. However, you’re right. I do need to call home and also to consult with the ambassador.”
Before Ilyana could make her first call, there was a knock on the door. “Your Highness,” an ambassadorial aide informed her, “His Excellency requests your presence on a matter of the utmost importance.”
“Please let His Excellency know the feeling is mutual,” Ilyana replied formally, “and that I will join him as soon as I have finished speaking to His Majesty.”
“Actually, it is about a call to His Majesty that the ambassador requests your presence,” the aide replied.
“Hmm, yes,” Ilyana decided. “His Excellency is correct, we should call together. Please have him initiate the call and I will join him shortly.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The aide hurried off and Ilyana caught Twist and Spin watching her. She shot them an inquiring glance.
“You could have just gone with the young man,” Twist pointed out.
“I’m in my dressing gown,” Ilyana replied. “Hardly appropriate attire in which to be viewed by the king.”
“I dare say he has seen you without clothing,” Twist parried. “He is your grandfather , after all.”
“Tonight he is not my grandfather,” Ilyana countered. “He is my king. I will be ready in a minute. You should dress too, I should think.”
“Us?” Spin asked.
“I would like you with us as representatives of Emmine,” Ilyana told him.
“Very unofficial representatives,” Twist argued.
“But you have heard from Lord Olen,” Ilyana insisted. “Don’t worry, no one will think you are committing your king and Parliament to anything.”
True to her word, Ilyana did manage a very quick change and was ready even before Twist was but only by a few seconds. “I have always liked that outfit,” Ilyana approved. Twist was wearing her usual; an Orentan print silk blouse over a cream-colored skirt.
“It’s the Olen school’s unofficial uniform,” Twist grinned as they started for the ambassador’s office. “If you like, I can see about getting one in your size.”
“Shouldn’t I at least attend your school first?” Ilyana asked.
“Think of it as an invitation,” Twist replied.
“I’d like that,” Ilyana nodded, “although after tonight, only the Gods know when we’ll have the time.”
“And maybe not even Them,” Spin remarked, earning Twist’s elbow in his ribs.
The ambassador did not simply have a call to his king in mind and by the time Ilyana and the mages arrived in his office an entire side of the office was filled with three dimensional images of leaders from both Granom and Emmine. “I had not meant for you to bring your guards with you,” the ambassador told Ilyana softly, indicating Twist and Spin. Mila and Dusya had stayed outside the ambassador’s office. He had meant it as a whisper, but was apparently overheard.
“Let them stay, please, Your Excellency,” a voice spoke up from the assembled images. Spin and Twist turned to see Freddy’s head and shoulders beside that of King Othon. Maiyim’s image was next to Freddy, from which Spin inferred Freddy was calling from the Maiyim Bourne. “It was because of them we are meeting like this so soon after the attacks. They are one of our best sources on these Tzali.”
“Tzali?” someone demanded. “Why do you call them that? What does it mean? Where do they come from?” All eyes turned to Spin and Twist.
Spin and Twist looked at each other and silently decided to let Spin start out. “They call themselves the Tzali. I haven’t the foggiest what it means, but if I had to guess, I would say it means ‘People.’ Just like humans, Orenta and Granomen are just words in the old languages that mean ‘People.’ That’s what people call themselves, isn’t it? Sometimes we get a little more specific and might say, ‘the people who live in the northeast’ or, in the case of the Inalo, ‘the People of the Fire,’ and the Merinta are ‘the People Who are Children of Merinne,’ but it all comes down to “People.” And I would rather call them Tzali, than ‘mysterious invaders from space.’ If nothing else it will make talks like these a bit shorter.”
“But how do you know they call themselves the Tzali?” that person demanded.
“I have a friend who has been listening to their radio signals,” Spin lied. “They don’t speak our language and he might be wrong, but the words ‘Tzal’ and ‘Tzali’ crop up frequently. Maybe he’s wrong, but we can revise that name later if it turns out that way. Are you all really here just to argue over what to call them?”
“No,” King Othon spoke up. “Tzali will do as a convenient label for now. If it turns out to be derogative later on, they will at least have earned it with their unprovoked attacks. Please continue, Sir Spinnaker.”
Spin nearly laughed at the title. He realized that he did deserve it as an inductee into the Order of the Star of Emmine. The Order was a knighthood, but it had become traditional that mages rarely, if ever, used such titles and Spin wasn’t the sort to shove the honor under others’ noses in any case. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Spin replied. “From what we can deduce, the Tzali do not live by the same code of honor we do. Or maybe they do. Back in the ancient world, I have learned, it was not unusual for one nation to consider themselves above all others, not according other peoples the same respect they might give to their own. It could be that the Tzali live by a strict code of honor, but since we are not Tzali ourselves, they see no reason to go through the diplomatic niceties such as making demands of us before an attack or a formal declaration of war, for that matter. Perhaps the attack on Bellinen’s L5 platform was their way of declaring war.”
“If it was not,” King Ksaveras added, “then the missiles they launched at the Midbarian colonies most certainly constitutes a cassis belli for us.”
“True enough, Your Majesty,” Spin nodded. “So what do we know about these Tzali? Darned little, I’m afraid, but we can deduce safely that they are an intelligent and aggressive species. They also have a more advanced technology than we do. They have managed to cross the interstellar distance from another star. I don’t know which one, of course, but since they seemed to enter our system at a significant fraction of a speed of light, but not approaching the speed of light itself, they must have either come here in what our own science fiction writers would call a generation ship or else they have some form of suspended animation.”
“What’s a generation ship?” someone asked. Spin turned and saw it was one of the Granomen who had asked.
“A generation ship is one in which people cross interstellar distances fully alive,” Spin replied. “They live their lives, have children, grow old and die. Their children have children and so forth. I do not think that is the case here, however.”
“Why not?”
“Well, their ship, or rather ships since it appears their large ship is actually a fleet of ships,” Spin replied, “might not be large enough to sustain a colony’s worth of people. You need a certain minimum number of people to keep from having an unsafely inbred population. Of course, I suppose it is possible that the Tzali have no rare recessive genes that might come out as disabilities, but I doubt that too. Evolution is not an intelligent process; it goes every which way. Some traits work and others don’t. The ones that don’t become rare very quickly, but a recessive gene may remain latent in a population for untold generations. I doubt Tzali evolution is any different from ours that way. In any case, unless the Tzali are much smaller physically than we are, I don’t think that fleet of theirs is large enough to support a living population large enough to found a colony, but it could easily carry that many people as cargo if their life processes might be suspended in some manner, like cryogenic freezing for example.
“Also,” Spin went on, “If the Tzali’s life support systems were efficient enough to keep them alive and active that way for the decades, maybe centuries, it took to get here, they would not need to attack. They could build a colony on any of the large asteroids or simply move on to another system; one without intelligent life to have to fight.”
“Maybe they like fighting,” Freddy cut in.
“Excuse me, Lord Olen?” Spin asked.
“You pointed out they are aggressive,” Freddy replied. “Maybe they just like to fight.”
“Maybe they do,” Spin allowed. “I suppose they might even have a religious reason to fight and feel that only conquest honors their gods. Okay, but no matter how they justify such behavior, I think there is some physical or natural reason behind those beliefs, if they exist. Until we can communicate with them, we won’t really know what passes for their psychology. In any case, I do not believe their fleet represents a generation ship.”
“You keep using the words fleet and ship interchangeably, Sir Spinnaker,” Ksaveras pointed out.
“We detected their approach into Maiyim’s solar system weeks ago, Your Majesty,” Spin replied, “but at the time our scientists thought it was just a rogue asteroid that was perhaps brighter than most. It seems to have come as a single object, but once it approached one of the asteroids in our outer system, it broke up into individual ships and seems to have tuned that asteroid into a base.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” someone spoke up. Spin recognized him as Twist’s distant cousin, Lord Tamollen. “Could that asteroid be used as a weapon? I read quite a bit of science fiction in my youth and it seems to me that dropping an asteroid on Maiyim could be devastating.”
“I doubt they would drop that particular asteroid,” a Granom cut in. Spin did not recognize him, but Ilyana leaned over and whispered that the man was a well-known scientist who taught at Querna University. “It is too large. It would destroy much of Maiyim in the immediate strike and would probably wipe out the rest with climatological changes that would follow. These people are here to conquer a world to live on, not destroy it.”
“How do you know that?” someone else challenged him.
“What would be the point of expending so much time and energy as well as money if they have that sort of economy, just to come here and destroy a world,” the scientist replied. “They might drop smaller rocks on us as kinetic energy devices. Such attacks could destroy power plants and road systems, although even in Granom our cars can fly if they need to and we can ward our power plants.”
“We can’t ward the whole planet though,” Twist pointed out. As she spoke she noticed her parents sidling in next to Freddy and Maiyim. This was the first time they would have seen the boat’s personification and from the look on both their faces they recognized Maiyim’s image as having been borrowed from Oceanvine the Younger. There was going to be a very interesting conversation on that boat later and Twist was not sure if she was glad or worried that she would miss it. “There aren’t enough mages or tech magic factories to manage that.”
“We’re straying a bit here,” Spin told them all. “I was answering why I did not think the Tzali had a generation ship. It all comes down to, it is not big enough. A generation ship has to have room on it for a growing population. From what we can tell of size estimates of that fleet of ships it is not much larger than what would be needed for a colony of just enough individuals to avoid excessive inbreeding.”
“Unless they are much smaller than us,” the Gronomish scientist added.
“True,” Twist told him, “but there are theories as to the minimum size a sapient life form must be. I would bet that when we see our first Tzal he or she will be at least as tall as the average Granom and massive as the average human, plus or minus ten percent on both.”
“There are people who are only three feet tall and less,” Spin pointed out. “On average they are no less intelligent than anyone else.”
“I said the average Granom and human,” Twist replied.
“I’ve never really bought into that particular theory,” Spin admitted. “It’s based entirely on human, Granomish and Oretan averages. We have no proof it applies to all intelligent life in the Universe.”
“You’re right,” Twist admitted. “I was being unnecessarily Maiyim-centric, but given the size of their individual ships I suspect it applies to the Tzali.”
“Could be,” Spin agreed. In reality they both already knew it did. The Tzali, they had learned from the Gods, were about as tall as an average Granom and as muscular as a human.
“So they did not come here on a generation ship,” King Othon concluded. “Does that necessarily mean they have some sort of suspended animation technology?”
“Their fleet did not approach the speed of light, Your Majesty,” Spin replied. “That means they had to have taken years, decades, maybe even centuries to get here. If the ship is not capable of supporting an active population for that long, the population must have been in some sort of stasis during most of the trip.”
“Sir Spinaker is quite correct,” the Granomish scientist agreed approvingly, “as far as it goes, but in that last few hours I have had my staff analyzing the Tzali fleet and looking back at deep space telescopic views of the skies in which they first appeared. It seems they may have achieved a speed that was a significant fraction of the speed of light, possibly as high as fifty-five percent of the speed of light, but only while in interstellar space. They seem to have decelerated rapidly before actually passing through our sun’s cometary halo and may have traveled over a decade before we first saw them. This certainly gave them plenty of time to look at our system and to become aware of us as well. Had they wanted to move on undetected, they had plenty of time to do so. However, in spite of having a star-drive capable of at least half the speed of light, I agree that the Tzali did not arrive in a generation ship.”
“However they got here, they are here now,” King Othon commented. “What are we going to do about them?”
“Fight back, of course, Your Majesty,” Lord Tamollen spoke up, “but I must say we are going to need to unite the International Congress in this. We must all defend Maiyim together or else Maiyim might be lost. I recommend, therefore that you and His Granomish Majesty appoint a special legation to the International Congress charged with building a united front against the Tzali.”
“For one very scary moment there,” Spin told Twist an hour later as Princess Ilyana’s jet rolled toward it’s private gate, “I was afraid Michael was going to want us in that special legation.”
“That would have been very foolish,” Twist replied with mock seriousness, “although I was worried too. Fortunately, that did not happen and just as well. I think we are both talented mages, but neither of us is a diplomat by any definition of the word. Ilyana was a good choice, however.”
“So long as she doesn’t try to sneak out to another party or club,” Spin replied.
“She won’t,” Dusya told him from the seat across the aisle. “Ilyana has changed in the last few weeks. You did not know her before this tour so you may not see the difference, but she is a far more serious young woman than she was and His Majesty has given her a very serious job. His high opinion means more to her than anything else. Her new found maturity and this assignment to the International Congress will keep her far too busy to worry about a frivolous party or two.”
“Sounds like your job will get easier too,” Spin commented.
“Perhaps,” Dusya shrugged, “but I doubt that. The main danger to Her Highness has never been her tendency to want to sneak out. Oceanvine’s Girls have to be eternally vigilant, don’t we?”
“You are,” Spin and Twist replied together.
“You too,” Dusya told them with a grin. “You’re part of us now, although I think Spinnaker might be the first male Oceanvine’s Girl.”
“Honorary member?” Spin grinned. “I’m flattered.”
“There are no honorary members of the Girls, Spinnaker,” Dusya told him seriously. “We planned to hold a ceremony on our return to Querna, but I guess that won’t be happening now. Just thought you ought to know.”
“Thank you,” Twist told her. “It’s a great honor.
“One you both deserve,” Dusya assured her. “So now you go from active duty as Oceanvine’s Girls to your roles as witnesses for the special legation. I don’t envy you.” Dusya might have gone on, but her comm implant chimed just then. She spoke for a few seconds and concluded with, “On my way. See you two later. Knock ‘em dead!”
“Knock ‘em dead?” Twist sighed after Dusya was out of earshot. “I’ll settle for surviving the day.”
“Only a day?” Spin countered. “Freddy seems to think we’ll be testifying for the next week. Congressmen and women are already queued up for their turns.”
“Most of them will cede their time to the leaders of the Bellinen, Granom and Emmine factions,” Twist pointed out, “not that it will make it easier.”
“The session is being telecast,” Spin noted. “I think they’re all going to want camera time for their constituents.”
“And at least half of them will make speeches for their entire time without ever asking a discernable question,” Twist nodded. “Maybe it won’t be all that hard. Sure would be nice if we weren’t the only expert witnesses.”
“Oh, we aren’t the only ones,” Spin assured her. “There are astronomers, military experts and others being flown in for this. We’re just the opening act and the good news is that this has to unite the nations of Maiyim. We all have a common enemy now and one that can kill us all and will if they have to. There may be a lot of political nonsense to wade through but only the suicidal would stand against the defense of Maiyim.”
“You’re right,” Twist agreed. “We all must stand together or else fall apart.”
“Historical quotes?” Spin laughed.
“It applies,” Twist shrugged. “I’ll let you come up with something original if you want. I’ll settle for making the Congress believe it.”
Spin nodded as the door opened Ilyana poked her head in. “Okay, kids, the plane is ready. Let’s go!” Spin and Twist glanced at each other and then followed the princess on their way to stand before the International Congress of Maiyim.
Twenty-one people sat around a long table in the conference room of a luxury hotel. They were from every nation on Maiyim although none of them were official representatives of those countries.
They had been arguing vociferously. That was hardly unusual. It was their way to debate frankly and whole heartedly. No personal insults were allowed, but their organization thrived on otherwise sharp and spirited debate.
In order to keep them unified no resolution was allowed to pass without at least fifteen of the twenty-one in agreement. Their votes were never unanimous, but there were rarely more than one or two dissenters. This time the vote might be close and it threatened to tear their group apart.
“We can use the threat of the Tzali to further our goals,” a human man from Ellisto pointed out. “Let them weaken our opposition.”
“Much too dangerous,” a Granomish man told them. “We have no control over the Tzali. Everything we have worked for over the last few decades could be lost.” Six others murmured their agreement.
“The danger is not as great as it seems,” an Orentan woman replied smoothly. “We have the weapon we will need for the final solution to the Tzali problem when the time comes.”
“Weapon?” the Granomish dissenter demanded. “What weapon?”
“We all know there are places of power on Maiyim,” the woman replied. “There is one such place not too far from here. I can show it to you, if you like. And I have people who have learned how to best use that power.”
“Show me this place,” the Granom told her. “Give us all a demonstration of the power and we’ll back you all the way.”
The Orentan woman smiled coldly and activated her comm unit. Three hours later the vote was unanimous.
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