The Witches of Ne'arth (The Star Wizards Trilogy Book 2) (33 page)

It swooped toward Savora.  Matt watched helplessly, expecting an attack.  Instead, the monster flared and alighted on the grass.  There it waited, spike-tipped tail twitching, as Savora approached without any display of fear. 

“Oh Silvanus!” she cooed.  “I have missed you, dear!” 

The creature bowed its two-meter neck and Savora stroked it.  It made little grunts and sniffs as it nuzzled against her chest.  Savora scratched its tufted ears and it blinked its saucer-sized eyes.  Massive lungs heaved a growl that, several magnitudes quieter, might have been taken as a dog's sigh of contentment.   

Savora glanced at Matt.  “I'm sorry, Matt.  I can't risk being around you right now.  I'll try to help, but for now I must go before they come to take me off-planet for good.” 

She patted the creature on the belly.  It raised its neck straight and the chest parted in the middle, revealing a coffin-like cavity.  Savora stepped inside, faced outward, crossed her arms over her chest in imitation of a mummy in repose.

“Savora!” Matt called. 

The creature hissed and glared.  Matt backstepped.

“I'm Synesthesia,” she replied.  “Save him, Matt.  Go there and save him!”

“Go where?”

“It's in the book.”

“Savora!” Matt shouted.  “
Synth!
”

The chest flaps closed seamlessly, sealing Savora within.  The creature spun about, made a hopping run and flapped its wings.  Matt felt the gust and shielded his face.  The creature leaped and climbed into the air, its undulating tail barely clearing the shingles of the farm house. 

The dragon named Silvanus flew into the sunset at a speed well above that of the
Good Witch,
ascending into the clouds, whereupon it vanished from sight. 

The cows resumed chewing.  Matt stood and stared.  Ivan broke the silence.   

“Matt.  Do you believe that Savora is actually your friend Synesthesia from Earth?” 

“I believe that's what she wants us to believe.”

The slanting sunlight reflected upon a rectangle near where Savora had stood.  Matt picked up the atlas.  The shop receipt had been tucked as a bookmark.  Matt opened to the page. 

The title of the map read,
Municipality of Blinti and Environs, Including Abbey of Klun
.  A large central building within the Abbey enclave had been heavily circled in pencil.  Beneath the circle, Savora's navigation pencil had inscribed, BROTHER. 

Matt snapped the book shut. 

The sun was behind the hills by the time he returned to the road.  The road might have been too gloomy to see by normal vision, but the trees were glowing.  Or rather, their clusters of 'globular fruit' were glowing, illuminating the pavement in their soft blue light.  The path of the road through the dark landscape gleamed as a blue ribbon fringed by clusters of blue stars.  Carriage and wagon lanterns bobbled along its length like fireflies on parade.

“It's beautiful,” he said softly.  “I wish Carrot could see this.”

The uplifting of his spirit was only temporary, for then he remembered again how he had been manipulated into abandoning Carrot.  Feeling hollow and empty, ashamed and humiliated, and most of all violated and angry, he headed toward the rendezvous point.

13.

The part of Inoldia that was still Matlid found the sensation of flight to be exhilarating, especially the soaring and gliding.  It was the freedom, the ability to see so much of the world in a single gaze.  It was with regret after the many hours among clouds that she at last spotted Londa in the first rays of dawn.

Londa was similar to the city of Tur in Frans, which was Matlid's childhood home – yet that comparison was no source of joy.  Seeing the buildings with the Roman colonial architecture of white stucco and red tiled roofs reminded her of the life of an abandoned child, of hunger and begging and thievery upon muddy streets, and a society that despised her very existence.  She had faced death by exposure and starvation – until a woman came who had rescued her from all of it.

You have much to thank me for
, the part of her that was Inoldia said. 

Thank you
, the part of her that was Matlid sincerely replied. 

She spilled air from her wings and swooped over Government House, dropping a triplet of rocks in prearranged signal.  The house guard, hearing the sequential thumps, rushed to the roof.  She descended with a flare and they enclosed her in blankets and escorted her to the Governor's office.  Her arrival created a minor panic among the staff, and hastily they brought dress and food.  She ate behind a screen, regaining weight as she transformed again into a resemblance to humanity.

General Bivera arrived and called from the other side of the screen:  “Lady Inoldia, I welcome you.  I apologize for any inadequacy in our hosting, for we had been given the impression that . . . . “

“That I was dead?” she called back, smiling at the discomfort that she sensed in his voice.

By then she was reasonably human in appearance again.  She removed the screen and continued eating.  Bivera stared, half-dressed, open-mouthed.  Matlid had met Bivera once before, in the company of Inoldia, and Bivera had ignored her.  Then he was a colonel and now he was both general and governor, but she had been promoted to demigoddess, and the deference in his demeanor was considerable.  Also quite amusing, she thought, suppressing a smile. 

She continued, “I am grateful for any hospitality you are able to extend on such short notice.”

“You . . . you are?” 

The relief in his voice was evident.  She wondered at that, until she glanced down at the office rug and  remembered why it was new.   

She chewed and swallowed from a third platter of ribs and said, “The Emperor has dispatched me to re-initiate the campaign to subjugate Britan.  Unfortunately, due to civil disturbances, communications between here and Rome have been inconsistent in recent weeks.  The Emperor will require a full report.  Sit, General, and please finish fastening your belt.  It is distracting.”

Bivera plopped into the chair.  “So then, you will be taking the report back with you?”

“Oh no, I'm going to be here a while.  I've been assigned to help you.”

His expression betrayed a trace of dismay.  “Well, I – I suppose we can send the report by ship.”

“That will take too long.  You will have the message transmitted by the Londa signal tower.”

“But the tower is for inland communication, to the west and north.  There is no seaward series of towers to convey the message to Rome.”

“That is not relevant.  However, you must transmit at these times and dates.”  She handed him a sheaf of papers from her pouch.  “You will use the once-only cipher provided there.  Oh, and very important.  The signal must be oriented skyward at times when there are no intervening clouds to the south.”

“Skyward.  I . . . see.”

You think you see
, Inoldia thought.  But even she did not understand how the Mother had an all-seeing eye above the world, higher than any Sister of Wisdom had ever flown.

“Very good, General.  And now, I would like a briefing as well.”  She produced a letter with Valarion's seal.  “This is from the Emperor's hand, authorizing you to inform me of all secret and privileged information, and to accept my instructions as his vicar.”

And so she was briefed.  The situation in Britan, Bivera said in his soft monotone, was dire.  With the disruption of imperial logistics, supplies were low and patrols had been curtailed.  The upside was that the Britanians were still scattered from the abortive Queen's Rebellion.  “Yet if they were to combine and march on Londa, nothing would stop them before they reach the walls.”

Bivera was obsessed with the walls of Londa, Matlid/Inoldia recalled from their past meetings, but the security of Londa was only a stepping stone in the eyes of the Mother.  Inoldia needed to ask about the Box.  For that she had been given special dispensation, but first she wanted to find out what the Roman baselines knew already.   

“Do you have spies in the west?” Inoldia asked.  “The activities there are what concern us most.”

“The latest news is that airship berthed near Fish Lake barely escaped a fire – “

“I know of that.  Go on.”

“The ship has since vanished, but we have reports of sightings over the northwestern quadrant of the isle.  For unknown reason, it went there for a while, came south again and headed to sea.  We have learned that the individuals known as 'The Wizard' and 'The Carrot' have disappeared from the rebel base, and rumor has it that they are in search of something called 'The Box.'”

Matlid stopped eating.  The Mother would not be pleased to know that the mutant had betrayed the confidentiality of their kind, and that the existence of another Mother was well known to the baselines of Britan.  But how much did they know?

“Tell me, General.  What do you know that is special about this thing called 'The Box?'”

“I hope you will not scoff, Lady Inoldia, but I firmly believe that they are sincerely in quest of the legendary 'Box That Everything Came In.'”

“How interesting,” Inoldia said.  “Say that they are.  Tell me what you know of that legend.”

“Perhaps not as much as I should.  No one in Rome but the most credulous takes it seriously.  As a lad growing up in the provinces with no access to a literary education, I seldom heard mention of it until adulthood.”

The Sisters of Wisdom were the reason that objective knowledge of the existence of the seeder probes of the Starseed Project had been suppressed within the Imperium – treated first as a myth and then dismissed entirely.  The Mother had then commissioned the Murals of Creation, which deliberately portrayed historical events surrealistically, so that no rational-minded Roman would give them the slightest credence. 

Although the Mother's action seemed contradictory to lesser minds, it was the Mother's Way to never spread just one lie when there was opportunity for a few more.  As long as her potential adversaries were preoccupied with choosing which lie to believe, bouncing like a ball between rackets in that insipid game that degenerate patricians played, they would never come upon the truth. 

So it was especially true for the existence of the Box.  But there, this time, was the dispensation . . . .    

Apparently nervous from her silence, Bivera elaborated, “Of course, I am skeptical about the existence of such a magical device.  On the other hand, I accept certain magics as real, as anyone who has lived in Rome and Britan must.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, for example, you.”

“What about me?”

“Well, you are able to change form and even fly.  That is magic, is it not?  So you are testament that magic is in the world.  Or, at least, so I have been told, a kind of science so advanced that it may as well be regarded as magic.  ”

She nodded slowly.  Inoldia had been deceived by Bivera's peasant-stock appearance into thinking that the general was dull, for that was the opinion of the Roman patrician class toward the peasantry.  Matlid, who had no respect for patrician prejudices, had seen plainly that if a man could climb from peasant to general, he was likely to possess extraordinary qualities of intellect.

In that the women shared minds, Inoldia saw how Matlid's insight had changed how they must treat Bivera if they were to use him effectively.

“General, I must swear you to secrecy upon your life.  I have been given special dispensation to tell you a great secret, yet even so, surely we would both die if my words spread beyond this room.”

Bivera hesitantly bowed.  “I understand.”

“Do you?  Then dismiss the bodyguard you have hidden in the compartment behind that wall.”

Mortified at first, Bivera did so, then shuffled back, head low.

“You may speak now in confidentiality, Lady Inoldia.”

“Well, it is quite simple.  It is this.  There is such a thing as the Box, it physically exists as described in myth, and it is very important that we have it.”

“Not that I doubt your word, but how can it be that the Box really is the source of all creation?“

“General, I am not here to initiate you into the Mysteries of the Sisters.  Suffice, there is such a thing as the Box, and it is very important that we have it.  Likewise, we cannot allow the enemies of the Sisters and of Rome to have it.  You must find the Box as soon as possible, at all costs.  If it is said to be in the far west, to the far west you must go.”

“I regret that the resources that I have on hand may not be enough for the task, my lady.”

“How so?”

“The Leaf has amassed a considerable force at their western base.  We've tried sending a cohort through the Dark Forest, and it was severely repulsed by ambush.  To break through would take nothing short of a legion, but my legions are needed to suppress uprising in the East.  Also, because of the recent difficulties in Rome, I have not received adequate logistics.  I can barely feed my men while they are stationed in their barracks, and support in the field is beyond our ability at present.”

“I see.  The situation has deteriorated below expectations.  Well, General, you mentioned spies in the west.  At least you can spare your spies, can you not?”

“Yes, My Lady.”

The part of Inoldia that the Mother had imprinted upon was pleased.  It was as she had foreseen.

“Well, then.  It is your spies that are to be utilized.  How good are they as soldiers?”

“Roman spies who are assigned for reconnaissance duty beyond the frontier are among the best-trained soldiers in the legions.”

“And how many do you have in the west?”

“Three, my lady.”

“That will have to do.  You will inform them as soon as possible to go in quest of the Box.”

“I'll send the message by courier bird.  It will be there by the morrow.  But My Lady, may I ask?  How are they to seek the Box?”

“General, haven't you answered that yourself?  The boy and the girl – the 'Wizard' and 'Carrot' as you call them – took the airship to the north.”

“Only for a brief time.”

“Long enough to drop off a search team.”

“Why, yes.  So you want our spies to seek for the search team.”

“You are following my reasoning quite well, General.  Find the search team, and they will point us on the path to the Box.”

“I am still puzzled, My Lady.  How will we find the search team among the thousands of other Britanians who dwell in the northwest?”

“That should be breathtakingly simple, General.  First of all, they will be travelers, not dwellers.  You need only watch the roads and inns, not pilfer through the villages.  Secondly, the team will be easy to identify, for it will be led by the mutant girl.  Find a group of travelers led by a young woman – and how rare is that?”

“You mean by 'mutant girl,' the Carrot.  Not the Wizard also?  My informants report that the two often are together.”

“The boy is aboard the airship on a journey to the other side of the world.”

“Do you know this for certain?”

“Have the Sisters ever given you reason to doubt the infallibility of our plans?”

“Well . . . Boudica.”

Inoldia gave a sharp look. 

Bivera continued:  “Lady Inoldia, I beg your indulgence, as I foresee difficulties.”

“What are they?”

“The northwest of Britan is largely unknown to us, even in this day.  There is a great wall of foliage, denser than any forest and animated like a beast, that seals off the north – “

“The Sisters know of the Hedge.”  After all, it had been planted by the Elder Wizard to keep them out.  That was before the Elder Wizard had learned that they could fly.   

“The . . . Hedge . . .  is impervious to fire and sword.  Years ago, one of our soldiers died when he ventured too close – “

“Surely your spies whom you say are your best soldiers can find a way through a few meters of plant.”

“Well, yes, I suppose – but there are myths that say giants live beyond it.”

Inoldia wondered if she had mistaken credulity for insight.  Perhaps the Peasant wasn't so far from the General after all. 

“And you believe those myths?”

“I'm just saying.”

“Well, General, if the girl is able to handle giants, then so should your spies.”

“About the girl.  What are my spies to do with her if they should find her?”