Fugue, page 18
“What about this says Iron Age?”
“Nails. Most of the furniture is wood, put together with close joinery and pegs, but it also uses iron nails. No screws or bolts, though. In the cloth, I see good, close stitching, which makes me think of metal needles, not bone. The thread in the cloth is fine and tightly woven, which makes me think of spinning wheels and looms instead of knitting. And the carving is intricate, so I’m guessing bronze or steel tools, as well. You also provided another clue when you spoke of swords and armor. Those could be Bronze Age stuff, but if Firebrand and my saber fit in, they have higher-quality steel. So at least Iron Age.”
“Good thinking. Come on. I want to introduce you to Leisel and Velina.”
“What about Uncle Dusty?”
“Hey, I like that one. He might, too.”
“But what about him?”
“I’ll see what he wants after. Hang on. You need a translation spell.”
“What language do they speak?”
“Tassarian. At least around here. There are other languages, but I’m using the Babel Fish version of the spell.”
“Why did you call it that, anyway?”
“Because Douglas Adams was a beloved genius and deserves an homage wherever I can give him one.”
“I may have to re-read his books.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea.”
“Do you think we could find a universe where there really is a Babel fish?” she asked.
“Possibly, but I would hesitate to go there. It might be a case of pantheistic multiple-ego solipsism.”
“What’s that mean?”
“If his universe exists, I don’t want to drop in and potentially screw up the narrative. Now, here’s your translation spell. It should last all day, but if it goes down, can you fix it?”
“I’ll keep an eye on it and re-power it if I have to.”
“That’s not what I asked, but I suppose it’s good enough. Let’s go find Leisel.”
Velina was on hand. Leisel was in the town, not the keep.
The tower was still “the tower,” but it was a central tower in what was now at least a sizable keep. As I recalled from the plans I’d laid into the rock before I went off to raise a child, the keep would grow in several stages. Eventually, it would be a full-on castle. I wondered how far along it was. Last time I popped in to chat with my altar ego, I was in a hurry to get back and didn’t take a tour.
I made a mental note to check with Leisel about the layout. Architecture may look good on paper and still be darn inconvenient to live in.
Velina was delighted to meet my daughter. I could tell, because she greeted her verbally, instead of grunting and nodding. Gus was hesitant, but I introduced Velina to Gus. We had a moment where he wanted to know where Velina fit in to his worldview. We weren’t at home, so she wasn’t a guest. She wasn’t part of our pack. That made her a stranger and we were in her territory.
I cleared it up with him by telling him all this was my territory, and by putting Velina in the same category as the Saturday gamers. They could crawl through his doggie door while we were out and Gus would lick their faces. Playmates. Packmates. Friends.
I asked Velina to show Phoebe around, or to assign someone to do so. She nodded and gestured Phoebe to follow. Phoebe shot me a look and I grinned, urging her on. She went with Velina. I wandered up and down stairs until I found the floor with my sand table. The tower had grown considerably. I fired up the sand table to talk to my altar ego. His face flowed up from the table and took form.
“Nice to see you. How’s your kid?”
“Doing well,” I told him.
“She seems to have grown. She looks a lot like her mother.”
“Yeah, I noticed. The time differential seems to have averaged about seventeen-to-one, including my visits.”
“I wish you’d thought to graph it,” he complained. “I wonder if the ratio of time differential changes with prolonged exposure?”
“I’ll set up an experiment and go from there. Later, if you don’t mind.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed, amiably. “Question. Did you come up with a cover story for Phoebe?”
“I figured people would assume she’s my daughter. She does have a resemblance to Renata, but I don’t think it’s enough, by itself, to make people suspicious. As long as they don’t connect Phoebe with a soulless newborn from a year ago, I think we’re fine.”
“With black eyes, I don’t see it as a major problem. They’re more likely to assume you always had a daughter and you brought her back from your recent trip. Phoebe is more strongly built than Renata, anyway, and wears her hair differently.”
“Good. So, how are things with you?”
“There’s a lively schism going on in the local religious power structure. The hardline, old-school bunch are maintaining you’re a heretic with a false revelation. All the witnesses to our after-action stunt, as well as quite a few others, are vigorously, even boisterously, insisting you’re a god with a legitimate gripe about the Temples. They’re determined we be added to the pantheon.”
I sighed and pulled a heavy chair over to the sand table. I settled into it and pinched the bridge of my nose.
“I was asking how things were going more as a politeness than as a request for a report,” I pointed out. “How are things with you? Fine, fine. Couldn’t be better. That sort of thing.”
“Oh. Sorry. I thought you wanted to know.”
“I’m not sure I do. I guess I’m glad we made an impression. While we’re catching up, how are things going in the valley?”
“Fine, fine. Couldn’t be better.”
“Stop that!”
“Just checking. It’s going pretty well, actually. Most of the fighting is in the Tassarian Empire. Since we’re technically not part of the Empire—nobody acknowledges your title as Mazhani of La Mancha, nor as manzhani of House Lucard—the valley isn’t really much of a target for most of the factions.”
“I would have thought the ones on our side of the schism, the ones who acknowledge you exist, would have at least agreed about the valley.”
“It’s a political thing. Everything’s tied together. If they say we’re part of the Empire, it becomes a… what do you call it? It stops being a purely religious argument and becomes an Imperial issue. We’re not part of the Empire. We’re a colony whose status is undecided. And, as long as the schism won’t let the Temples give a unified, definitive answer on whether or not we’re ‘Tassarian’ enough, we’re going to stay an unacknowledged colony.”
“Huh. You know, if the valley didn’t need to trade with these idiots, I’d build another mountain range. How much hell are the orthodox morons raising?”
“Out here? Not much. Over in the Empire? More. They don’t like us, for obvious reasons, but even the ones who would try to destroy the ‘nest of corruption’ are hesitant to try. They have other heretics, closer ones, to worry about. Also, there’s something about overwhelming casualties the last time, to say nothing of the reprimand, divine or not. You do good work in designing fortifications and whirlwinds.”
“I think about what I’d hate to face. Now, back up. Fighting?”
“Did I mention the schism? I’m pretty sure I mentioned a schism.”
“Have the Temples started fighting each other?”
“Not in so many words. People—cities, for the most part—have aligned themselves with one major view or another. The Temple tried to handle it internally, but there was no chance of keeping it a secret.”
“So people started, what? Fighting in the streets? Murdering heretics? Arguing loudly at family gatherings? What?”
“It didn’t happen all at once, you know,” he pointed out. “It’s been a year. There was already a lot of pent-up social pressure. The religion-enforced caste system doesn’t exactly make everyone happy. It tries to force everyone to conform. Most people do conform, but if you remember, there was considerable underground resistance. Now they’re aboveground.”
“Well, crap. We started a holy war.”
“I’m not sure it’s all that holy.”
“Oh, well, we started an unholy war. That’s so much better.”
“Most wars are unholy—even the religious ones. Maybe especially.”
“Will you please stop ‘helping’?”
“Seventeen years and it still bothers you?” he asked, sounding concerned.
“You mean seventeen seconds. I only found out about it just now! Besides, I’m good at guilt.”
“I’ll say. Look, there was going to be a cultural pressure release eventually. Triggering it now is actually a good thing,” he assured me.
“Oh, is it?” I demanded, sitting back. “Okay. Convince me.”
“In another generation or two, we might have had a whole Empire trying to tear itself apart. Caste versus caste, schisms within castes, all that. Right now, it’s mostly a religious faction-versus-faction conflict, sorted mostly by cities. It’s two distinct sides. Each side has subdivisions within them, arguing over the finer points, but generally working together. Cities have, sadly, embraced taking sides, mostly because religion is too important in this culture to simply kick all the priests out. So it’s largely a war of city-states, divided along religious lines. Inside each city, life goes on pretty much as before. It is not an everyone against everyone else free for all with a complete collapse of all social order.”
“This is better?” I asked, doubtfully.
“When it all shakes down, they’ll still have an Empire, and it might even still be the Tassarian Empire when they’re done. Their surviving religious institution might be less of a power in civic affairs. I’m guessing I’ll have more say among the priestly caste—assuming our side wins—and can tell them to stay out of politics. I’ll also have more influence over the exact nature of their worship, so I can help them focus their nascent gods into something more coherent.”
“Angling to be head of the pantheon?”
“No, but I don’t like dodging dangerous quasi-elemental forces! Coherent celestial entities can be reasoned with. Or at least argued with! Unformed celestial elementals can be powerful, unpredictable, hungry, and somewhat lacking in conversation. You can negotiate with Poseidon, but the sea is unforgiving.”
“I see your point.”
“As for the Empire, if the wheels really came off, the place would tear itself to pieces and the existing so-called gods would gradually wind down, losing power as their worship base fell below the self-sustaining threshold. They aren’t coherent enough to simply scale back; their imprint isn’t adequately formed—except for one, and he’s mostly human.”
“Speaking of. How is Rahýfel doing? Did he ascend? I seem to recall he was enjoying the physical aspects of existence last time I was here.”
“No, he’s still being a hedonist.”
“For the whole last year?”
“You better believe it.”
“Is he planning to ascend anytime soon?”
“Doubtful. He’s undergone some changes, but not enough to make it even remotely safe. He says he wants to preserve his continuity of consciousness, which I take to mean he wants to live through the changes without forgetting what it was like to be mortal. This isn’t a good mindset. I think he’s too attached to being flesh and blood.”
“Good to know.”
“We’ll get back to him. Meanwhile, the Empire,” he went on, ruining my attempt to change the subject. “If we allow the Empire to continue to a full societal breakdown, we’d have a Dark Ages type of reset. Not that this would be the worst thing for me, since my power is largely drawn from extradimensional sources and the kustoni, but it would set back the Empire’s population by sixty to ninety percent and take generations to rebuild any semblance of central government. Not to mention the subsequent wars of consolidation…”
“Fine, fine, fine. You’ve made your point. One small civil war now or generations of suffering and more wars later.”
“Sorry, but there it is.”
“Where’s Hazir in all this mess?”
“Hazir? Uh…” He looked guilty.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t even looked in on him!”
“I’ve been busy! I still haven’t managed the triple-omni thing!”
“Has Leisel talked to him? Has he called?”
“Leisel knows more, yes. He calls pretty regularly. I don’t talk to him as much. He’s still serving in his capacity as an officer of the law—sort of; you know what I mean—for the various quasi-noble civil servants. The mahrani of Sarashda.”
“Glad to hear it. Any idea how deeply involved he is with the jihad?”
“Not a clue, but I’ll make it a point to keep a closer eye on him. You might ask Leisel, too. She’ll know how the whole jihad/resistance thing is going.”
“Speaking of how things are going, how is the valley doing?”
“Nobody’s complaining, and they have the means to. Leisel stops by every day or so to check in with me, but I’m leaving the valley in her capable hands. She misses you a lot, by the way.”
“I can be useful. Go on.”
“There’s some trade with the Empire, so that’s to the good. The local craftsmen are making more and more of the goods they trade for, too. The balance of trade is slowly rocking toward the valley. They also trade a little with the kustoni beyond the Wall, but it’s tricky. I’ve grown a good deal more influential with them, so the shamans of the Dark One—yours truly—have tried this ‘trading’ thing. By and large, it’s gone well. Or, at least, not badly. Or, at least, not deadly.” He grimaced. “Usually, anyway. It’s a process. They’re slow learners and they have a cultural history of being murderous bastards.”
“I can show them how it’s done.”
“Trading? Or murder?”
“Take your pick.”
“Maybe it would be better to stick with our slow but sure method.”
“Okay. Anything you need from me?”
“How hard would it be for you to widen the valley a bit? They’ve cleared a lot of it for the timber, but they’ll want to farm the whole thing. They have some pasturage for the livestock, but they need way more if they want to raise horses. I’m trying to think ahead, here.”
“This valley and the valleys upstream don’t really lend themselves to raising horses. We could clear them, sure, but we’re doing better than I’d expect if we can feed everyone, even with total composting and irrigated farmland.”
“I agree, but they still need farm animals. Horses to draw plows, pigs, sheep, chickens, the lot. So, can you widen the valley? Rather, can you widen it enough?”
“That’s… a good question.” I thought about it for a few minutes, picturing the valley and considering the number of spells it would take. It was fairly long, but not as wide as we could have wished. I could do it all with one spell, but it would be spread so thinly… Two spells? One on each of the sides, slowly rolling back the edges of the valley? A millimeter a day would be a meter every three years or so. Not noticeable and probably not sufficient, either. Maybe with twenty spells per side, and pathways linking to valleys above and below along the river… maybe some whole new valleys, while I’m at it…
“I probably can expand the valley,” I decided, “but it’ll take a lot more work than I like to think about.”
“This from the man who can move mountains?”
“It was one mountain, and it moved while I wasn’t looking! Besides, you’re talking about moving whole mountain ranges. I’d have to split the mountain range in two.”
As I said it, I wondered. If we’re going down that road, what would it take to split the mountain range? The mountains can be roughly divided into two sides, hence the fact of this valley and others. What if one mountain range started creeping west and the other east? It would take a self-replicating stone-shaping spell and a lot of initial power. No, I could do a scrying flyover, planting markers so the mountain-spreading spell could replicate at the proper points. There could be a long stretch of open countryside with a river flowing through it—and a mountain range on either side.
In a century or so. That’s only four or five generations.
“If it’s going to be too big a project, do you have a good way to increase the harvests, instead?”
“Mmm. Probably.” I considered it for several seconds. “I can divert part of the valley’s solar collection into vitality and pump it into the fields. Irrigate with vital force, so to speak. It should bump up the plant growth by ten or twenty percent, but that’s only a guesstimate.”
“That’ll do.”
“It’ll be hard on the soil, though,” I cautioned. “It’ll wear out fast. They’ll need to fertilize.”
“Maybe hold off, then. We haven’t quite established the proper customs for composting all the biological waste. It’s something handled by low-caste people and we don’t have enough of those.”
“Keep me posted and I’ll help if I can.”
“I will. Can I also ask a favor or two?”
“Shoot.”
“I’ve got some particularly stubborn and unpleasant shamans among the kustoni who are unenthusiastic about the new religion. They prefer to continue calling directly on the elemental forces, rather than personified gods, and they repudiate anything with a definable form. Rain doesn’t have a face and fire doesn’t look at you. That sort of thing.”
“You need a Holy Order of Dark Assassins?”
“Just one, really. Maybe more like a divine visitation.”
“Is this why I’m here?”
“Partly. I might have mentioned Leisel misses you, yes?”
“Yes. She can call me anytime. She knows this.”
“I’m not so sure she knows it. She said something the other day to make me think she’s a bit confused about who we are. Separate entities, I mean. You might want to talk to her. As long as you’re here…”
“Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll do an Avatar of the Dark Lord impression for you. What time is it?”
“About three hours until sunset.”
I did some mental math and nodded.
“Okay, I think I can do this. What did you have in mind?”
