The Wizard That Wasn't (Mechanized Wizardry) (11 page)

“I heard,” Samanthi said, blinking furiously, “that once a Haberstorm passes the First Ordeals and becomes a midling, she gets to decide on new colors for the royal apartment.”

“One more reason to wish Her Highness all the best,”  Lundin said, wiping his eyes.

A hulking, blurry shape appeared in front of his eyes.  “You two should get sun visors like we have,” Sir Mathias said, tapping what was either his helmet or his ear.  It was hard to tell.  The Petronaut put a hand on Lundin’s shoulder, rotating him gently towards a corridor on the right.  “Come on; the carters already delivered all our squad’s equipment.

“Samanthi—you and Horace will be stationed in an anteroom just outside Princess Naomi’s personal chambers.  Palace Guard says you’ll be fairly centralized there.  I don’t need to tell you that if you go sneaking into her chambers without permission, I’ll lop your idiot heads off to save the Regency Council the trouble of doing it themselves.”

“Don’t look at me,” Samanthi said.  “Or… were you looking at me?  I can’t see a damn thing in this place.”

“Any changes to the timetable?”  Lundin asked, his eyes finally starting to adjust.  They were heading down a long white hallway with white pressed metal ceilings.  There was no direct sunlight hitting the windows on their right, so at least the environment wasn’t so blinding.  “Is Her Highness still coming out to the main balcony at three?”

“As far as I know,”  Mathias said, adjusting his bracers.  He was in his black Close Quarters armor, burnished to a steely shine and nearly silent, except for that one impossible-to-fix popping gear in his left knee on which the technicians had sworn undying hatred.  The CQ suit didn’t have the bulk to stand up to a hail of longbow arrows or musket balls, though grapeshot at long range would be very unlikely to break through.  It also didn’t make use of the bulky thrust packs he and Kelley had deployed in the Verrure campaign.  But the lack of that extra weight meant the ranine coils in the legs could work that much more efficiently.  In CQ armor, even a huge warrior like Mathias could leap six meters in any direction as easily as a fencer might sidestep.  He’d also be able to sprint as fast as a racing horse, though the ranine coils had a tendency to go into spasm during a prolonged run, sending the wearer either toppling to earth or jumping unexpectedly skyward.  A Petronaut in such a suit was a match for six swordsmen.  Not that there would be any swordsmen to battle today, of course; but the CQ armor had the additional advantages of being much sleeker and easier on the eyes than the Recon suit, and without the extra bladders of highly combustible petrolatum that the thrust packs in the Recon suits required.  The Palace Guard wanted as few caches of explosive ‘tum as possible in the vicinity of Princess Naomi, for reasons the ‘nauts fully understood.

Sir Mathias looked over at Lundin as he walked, frowning.  “From what we’ve heard, the schedule isn’t being changed.  But I wouldn’t be surprised if a delay crept in.  From the few glimpses I’ve caught of Lord Potikal and Lady Ceres talking, I think something’s making the Regents nervous.”

“Why wouldn’t they be nervous?  Princess Naomi’s not out of the Ordeals yet,” Samanthi said.

“It wasn’t your standard case of jitters.  Lady Ceres looked whiter than these walls when I saw her talking to Portikal, and he kept wringing his hands.  Deep worry lines across their faces.”  Sir Mathias sighed, shrugging away the memory.  “I just hope Princess Naomi is doing all right.  People like us with incredible hair have to stick together.”

Samanthi snorted as they rounded a corner.  The techs had just enough time to catch a glimpse of an armored Sir Kelley in earnest conversation with a thin, bald woman in silver robes before Sir Mathias groaned and spun the techs around to face him, one meaty hand on each of their shoulders. “Spheres help us all,” he said through his teeth.  “I have another assignment for you.  If you have any spare time from palace business today, I want you doing everything you possibly can to put Sir Kelley back the way he was.”

The techs looked at each other, then back at Mathias.  He waved at them impatiently, saying, “I know, I never thought I’d be asking that either.  But we can’t get anything done with him like this.  He has to shake every passing servant’s hand and tell them what a valuable contribution they’re making to the day.  He’s bowing and scraping to the Regents so hard he’s going to pull something.  And he keeps asking for my opinion on what the squad should do next.”  He shuddered.  “It’s just not natural.”

“Lundin’s fault,” Samanthi said simply.

“Maybe, but it’s your problem too now, senior tech,”  Sir Mathias said.  He looked down at Lundin.  “What was the spell you cast on him again?”

Lundin scratched an itch on the back of one hand, his eyes flicking to the ground.  “Just a simple spell of friendship; something to make him warmer to me, Samanthi and the mechanized wizardry project.  I tried to adjust the Illustration so he’d only feel friendlier to the squad.”

“Great job,” Sir Mathias shook his head.  “He loves everybody.  And, today, he’s got this strange thing he’s doing with his face.”

“That’s new.  What kind of thing?”

“It’s... you’ll see.  It’s noticeable.”

“Spheres, Horace,” Samanthi said.  “You broke Kelley.”

Lundin swallowed.  “Well, since Sir Kelley insisted we bring the squawk box and all our disks to show off, we’ll have everything we need to work on making him better.”

“Good.  ‘Cause much as I hate to say it, if you’ve permanently ruined his mind, I’m going to have to turn you over to the disciplinary board.  And you know the penalty for a tech who knowingly causes harm to a Petronaut within his squad.”

“Did I mention that, at the time, I was extremely tired?”  Lundin said desperately.

“Who is Sir Kelley talking to, anyway?”  Samanthi said, looking across the room.

“Ouste, the court sorcerer.  Kelley’s probably telling her what a revolution your fancy box is.”

His squadmates blinked in surprise as Lundin crossed the room in a few dozen lightning-fast steps, in an awkward gait that was four parts sprint to one part nonchalant saunter.  “—don’t need to tell you again what a revolution it might be,” Sir Kelley was saying.  The wizard was still, polite, her hands perched lightly on her hips; but the upraised curve of one thin eyebrow said it all.  Lundin’s heart sank as he plastered a dutiful expression on his face.

The senior ‘naut brightened at the sight of his favorite technician.  “Mister Lundin!  The Guard finally got you and Samanthi cleared for duty, I take it.  It’s my great honor to introduce you to Ouste, the distinguished personal sorcerer to Her Royal Highness, and the noble Queen who preceded her.”

“I’m thoroughly honored, Lady Ouste,” Lundin said, bowing deeply.

“Just ‘Ouste,’ with no title,” she corrected.  “It’s not my custom to over-reach, and pretend that I’m something I’m not,” the wizard said to the technician with a thin, glacial smile.  Lundin did his best not to quail too visibly under her pale blue eyes.

Sir Kelley went on blithely.  “I’ve been telling Ouste about the tremendous potential of the magic box you and Ms. Elena have made.  Imagine a world where spellcasting machines work alongside traditional wizards!”

“Imagine,” Ouste said in a voice like a candle being snuffed out.

“The technology is, of course, in its infancy; far from fully proven,” Lundin began, frantic to slow the conversation down.  If the court sorcerer decided that this project was a direct threat to her profession, then he was sure the Regency Council themselves would stamp it out—and his whole squad along with it.  Delia’s tradition of independent research be damned; there were some entrenched interests you didn’t go up against until you knew you were absolutely ready. 
Even I know that. And Kelley couldn’t be making a bigger hash of all this if he still hated me.

“‘Far from proven?’ Mister Lundin,” Ouste broke in, “are you saying that you have yet to prove that a soulless box of gears, programmed by mechanics who haven’t practiced magic for a day of their lives, can cast a spell?”  She put her fingers to her chest.  “How very surprising!”

“Actually, I believe my technicians
have
been able to successfully weave a spell with the box,” Sir Kelley said guilelessly.  He looked at Lundin—and then he opened his jaw as wide as it could go, as if he was trying to swallow an entire hard-boiled egg.  Lundin drew back, but Sir Kelley closed his jaw again as quickly as it had opened, and kept looking at the technician without any recognition of what his face had just done.  Lundin blinked.

“Didn’t you cast some kind of spell?”  Kelley asked.

“Some kind of one, yes,” Lundin said, trying not to stare.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Ouste said, inclining her head.  She fixed Lundin with a frosty glare. “Much as I’d love to learn more about your small triumphs, I have pressing business in the Princess’ chambers.  Pleasant feastday.”

“You too,” Lundin said quietly, bowing again as the sorcerer turned to go.  He noticed a rough fabric pouch on a cord at Ouste’s side as she walked to the vaulted doors.  The pouch was the same fabric Archimedia had given him to wrap the
ojing
, and the size was just about right for several of those flat tan disks. 
If she’s carrying
ojing
, does that mean she’ll be casting a spell in there?
  He stifled a curse.  Having a chance to watch the court wizard of Delia, presumably one of the world’s first-rate spellcasters, as she went through her magical process would have been a gold mine of observational data.  But now that she hated him, thanks to Sir Kelley’s big mouth, there was no way he’d be able to wheedle his way into that room.

Sir Kelley’s big mouth dropped open again, and closed shut with a noisy click of teeth.  Lundin jumped a little, which also escaped the Petronaut’s notice as he clapped his hands.  “Glad I could make that introduction,” he said.  “I think she’ll be following your project with great interest, Mister Lundin.”

“You’re probably right,” Lundin said. 

“At any rate, technician—ah, Ms. Elena, there you are!”  Kelley grinned as Samanthi stepped up next to the junior tech, her face also bright and grinning.  The Petronaut turned away to point at the corner of the room where white-clad servants were unpacking their gear.  While his back was turned, Samanthi dropped the fake smile and turned to Lundin with concern, mouthing “
did you see that?”
and doing a startlingly accurate reenactment of Kelley’s oral tic.  He barely had time to nod before Sir Kelley looked back at them and they became the picture of attentiveness.  “Abby the Abacus is unloaded.  You’ll be primarily crunching numbers about crowd density along the Princess’ parade route.  The Palace Guard is looking for you to see if they need to fortify security in any locations or consider a re-route once the Princess emerges from the Ordeals.”

“So we know that Princess is going to make it through?”  Sir Mathias asked, behind the techs. 

Sir Kelley frowned.  “What a strange question, Sir Mathias,” he said.  “Of course she will; there’s a whole day of joyous celebration planned around it.  Excuse me!”  Kelley waved at a passing servant, gesturing for her to come over.  The trim, middle-aged woman hesitated, then swept over to them, her long white skirt flowing behind her.  “This is Biatrice.  We’re friends,” Kelley said, beaming at the chambermaid.  She bobbed a quick curtsey to the squad, and they nodded awkwardly.

“Biatrice,” Sir Kelley asked, “Princess Naomi is doing well, isn’t she?  She’s such a strong, wonderful girl, I can’t imagine there’s any chance of her not making it through the Ordeals.”

She looked at each of them, her mouth half-open as she decided what to say.  Finally, she leaned in closer to the Petronaut team.  “I suppose you’ll find out sooner or later, working back here,” she whispered.  “Just this morning, things started going wrong for her Royal Highness.”

“What do you mean, wrong?” Sir Mathias asked.

“Well, she’d struggled a bit in week one of the Ordeals, but then she rallied in the most amazing way; like a true Haberstorm.  Just last night, with how focused she was and how full of energy, we really did think it was a sure thing she’d make it through.  The Regents, too.

“But then, this morning, it’s all different, all of a sudden.  I haven’t seen her, granted—only Lady Ceres is with her now—but the word is she can’t move, barely opens her eyes, just lies there, struck with a great fever.”

“Spheres,” Samanthi breathed.  “Catching a fever right now, when her body’s exhausted from thirteen days of Ordeals….”

“And aren’t masters of physic forbidden from attending to a Haberstorm during the two weeks?”  Lundin asked.

Biatrice nodded once, anxiously.  “If a physician intervenes, she fails the First Ordeals.  She’ll lose her place in the succession and be banished, as Prince Torvald was.”

“But if a master of physic doesn’t intervene?”  Sir Mathias asked, his voice low and grim.  Biatrice’s eyes dropped to the ground.  None of them needed to put the worst-case scenario into words.

“The staff have been saying,” Biatrice said, putting on a smile after a moment of silence, “that this proves what an overachiever Princess Naomi is.  She wouldn’t be content unless she added an Ordeal of her own to the ritual.”

“Is there anything we can do, Biatrice?”  Sir Kelley asked, an outpouring of sympathy in his voice.  His jaw swung open and closed again without his green eyes losing their softness.

Biatrice straightened up and tucked her hair back into place under its bonnet.  “That’s why Ouste has been summoned.  There’s no rule against magical healing or protection in the Tome of Ordeals, so hopefully she can help.  All we can do is trust in Ouste, and in Princess Naomi’s strength, and keep working, I suppose.  If you’ll excuse me,” she said, curtseying.  They said quiet goodbyes as she trotted away.

“What a nightmare, to have this crop up on the final morning,” Sir Mathias said, shaking his head.  “No wonder the Regents looked so worried.”

“Hey, team!”  Kelley said, his face brightening.  He turned to Samanthi and Lundin.  “Since magic is allowed during the Ordeals, what do you say you offer to use the squawk box to help Ouste?”