Black Coven (Daniel Black Book 2) (20 page)

“Awesome,” she pronounced. “I want one. It’s a little bulky to carry around all the time, but it’s worth it.”

“How did you do that?” Gronir demanded.

“Magic,” she grinned.

“Figures,” he grumbled. “Cheater.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if I’m awesome. I’ll be happy to conjure up a Son of Muspel for you if you want to try to steal his weapon sense.”

“No demon summoning in the house, young lady,” I said with mock sternness. “Take it outside.”

“Aww. You’re no fun, Daniel.”

“I’ll just pass on that bit of suicide,” Gronir interjected. “I‘m just glad you’re on our side, Cerise.”

That was a good start, but better weapons for our troops wouldn’t be worth much if we didn’t have room to train them. Marcus had already come up with fifty new recruits, but using the vehicle bays as a drill field was awkward at best. The rest of the keep was filling up quickly as well, so the next problem I needed to solve was space.

We really needed something a lot bigger than the keep if I was going to provide the kind of sanctuary I’d promised Hecate. But as usual I was pressed for time, and building the kind of place I really needed with the techniques I’d been using so far could take a couple of weeks. Fortunately I had some ideas on getting around those limitations.

The enchantment on the staff that I’d used as the seed of my keep had expanded to cover all the stone I grew from it, just like I’d wanted. Subsequent experiments showed that I could do the same thing with the actual stone conjuration, making an item that would grow into any shape I desired as long as I supplied it with power. In theory I could add a self-powering enchantment and make a rock that would grow into a fortress under its own power. But that would be dangerous, because damaging an enchanted object tends to degrade any enchantments attached to it. Sooner or later someone was going to attack my stronghold, and I didn’t want to be in the same county as a damaged matter-to-mana converter.

When a device that plays with nuclear forces malfunctions, the results tend to be spectacularly bad.

So instead I spent some time following up on an idea I’d had before, of making a central power source that could supply magic to other objects. As I’d expected, that was actually harder than just making each of the linked items self-powered. But it allowed me to keep the power source in a protected location, and incidentally guard it from casual observation.

Yes, I’d come to the conclusion that I was being a little too free with my secrets. Getting a close look at those rocks in the harbor would be pretty tricky, but if I kept putting that enchantment on every serious magic item I made it wouldn’t be long before some wizard got ahold of one and started experimenting. One way or another, that would end badly.

I also discovered that while mana transmission links were complex, they didn’t require the massive internal power levels of a matter conversion spell. I was fairly optimistic about my chances of building an enchantment factory that could reproduce the effect without damaging itself, which might open the door to true mass production. But working out all the details on that would take time, so I put it on the list for later and went back to my construction problem.

I hid my new power source in a small chamber at the back of one of the empty vehicle bays. Visually it was just a big block of solid nickel-iron, probably five or six tons of it, which turned out to be near the upper limit of how big a matter conversion enchantment I could make. There were six glyphs on the front face of the device, marking the links that I could connect to the devices it would power. The first of these was just a stone sphere, with the same protective enchantments as the keep plus a set of conjuration spells for earth, nickel-iron and several varieties of stone.

I walled off the power source once I’d connected my new castle seed, and opened the gates that looked out over the river. I needed to touch the castle seed to control it, but that wasn’t a big problem. I held it out over the open water, and told it to grow a thin shaft of nickel-iron reaching down to the river bottom.

It was a completely different sensation than conjuring the material myself. Like driving a bulldozer, instead of moving dirt with a shovel. It took a little concentration, but practically no effort at all.

Like the first time I’d done this, I had to use force magic to hold the growing mass in place until it was big enough to be stable. But it went much faster than when I’d built the keep. In a matter of minutes I had a stone platform twenty feet across, pushing aside the mud of the river bottom and the heating stones around the keep as it grew.

I wrapped it around half of the keep, and then made it grow a wedge-shaped extension into the ice that covered the river beyond the influence of my heating stone. The slow-moving battering ram forced its way through the ice with a series of loud crashes and grinding sounds, sucking down a fantastic amount of power in the process. But there was still no strain at all on me, and not much of one on my new power source. It was thousands of times more massive than anything I’d used before, and the amount of energy it could produce at full power was insane.

Over the course of a long morning I expanded the extension into an oval island covering a bit under the ten acres of river that Prince Caspar had deeded to me. Most of it was solid stone, with the shores rising vertically to the same level as the entrance hall of the keep. But there was also a large square patch of dirt in the center, and several large depressions that might be filled with soil or ponds depending on how things developed.

But exploring the possibilities of indoor agriculture would have to wait. For now, I just needed a defensible area we could expand our facilities into. So I raised a wall around the edge of the island next, putting the parapet at the same level as the enclosed walkway around the keep.

In keeping with my trend towards over-engineering I made the island’s wall thirty feet thick, enough that we could easily set up cannons or siege engines on top. I ran a wide enclosed walkway along the inner side of the wall, so troops could move around the perimeter of the island under cover, with doorways leading out onto the wall every hundred feet or so. I didn’t get too fancy with the battlements, but I did put in a series of enclosed sentry posts with quartz windows so we could keep men on watch even in the worst weather.

Given all that I didn’t see much need for towers, but I threw up the shell of another keep on the far side of the island. At some point I might want to build a bridge from there to the far shore of the river, and it would make a decent gatehouse.

I also put in a river gate facing the harbor, opening onto a little enclosed anchorage with a wide ramp leading up to the surface of the island. It wasn’t big enough for real ships, but it might be convenient to be able to send out boats or hover-vehicles of some sort. Mindful of the fact that this was a potential hole in our defenses I followed up by building a wall around the anchorage, with a drawbridge at the top of that ramp and a substantial gatehouse guarding the path onto the island proper.

As I’d hoped, dropping such a huge mass of self-heating stone into the river created a noticeable heat island effect. It was still a long way from being warm, but between that and the wall acting as a windbreak it gave us an area where the new troops could train outdoors without half of them dying of exposure.

I took the whole staff on a tour when I was done, and they immediately started suggesting more construction.

“We should block out a military district,” Marcus suggested. “Maybe that space between the keep and the anchorage? Put in some proper barracks buildings, a smithy and armory complex, maybe some warehouse space and a place to park those new vehicles you were talking about. An archery range would be good too, for practicing with the guns.”

Oskar nodded in agreement. “Put the smithy next to the gate to the anchorage, in case we start shipping goods somewhere. Maybe a warehouse, too. Are you thinking of building a town on the island, milord?”

“Yes, but not a normal one. It isn’t that big, and it’s not healthy for people to go outside too much in this kind of cold. I’m thinking lots of big stone buildings with thick walls, and covered streets between them. I’ve also got some ideas for trying to grow crops using magic, but the facilities for that will end up taking up a lot of ground in the middle of the island.”

“I’m starting to wonder if I was too quick to set up my kitchen,” Avilla commented. “You could build a palace out here if you wanted to.”

“Not really my style,” I replied. “I don’t need that much space, and when it comes to impressing visitors I think a giant fortress is more the kind of message I want to send. Besides, if I’m living in the keep it will be hard for outsiders to come up with excuses for why they’d need to visit the island. I figure people will tend to avoid the long walk across that pier into Kozalin if they can, so we should be able to keep the details of what we’re doing here from spreading too fast.”

“If you say so, Daniel. Well, we’ll certainly have room for as many refugees as you want to take in.”

“Maybe you could charge them rent?” Oskar joked.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” I mused. “Recruit craftsmen with useful skills, get them set up with workshops, and let them pay their rent with labor until they can get their businesses established and start making money. It certainly beats having Avilla try to juggle every detail of what needs doing. But for right now I’m just going to set up the military complex, and maybe an extra building for overflow in case the keep starts getting crowded.”

“So what are we going to be doing here that you don’t want people in town to know about?” Cerise asked.

I grinned. “Let’s just say that guns are only the beginning.”

              As a programmer I’d developed a habit of going head-down when I was working on a big project, shutting out everything else in favor of my work. It’s amazing how long you can function on fast food, lots of caffeine and five or six hours a night of sleep.

              Amanda had always promised to be supportive when I had a crunch time coming up, but that never lasted more than a few days. Then she rapidly devolved into bitching and passive-aggressive digs at me, when she wasn’t taking advantage of my distraction to spend all our money on retail therapy. I can’t count the number of times I stumbled out of bed in the middle of an 80-hour work week to find that Amanda hadn’t bothered to do laundry or buy groceries - just because she didn’t work didn’t mean she was going to accept responsibility for anything else.

              Yeah, in retrospect there were a lot of warning signs that our relationship hadn’t been going well.

              Avilla’s response to my workaholic tendencies involved a lot more carrot than stick. In the mornings Tina or Cerise always woke me in time for breakfast, often with a bit of hanky-panky thrown in to start the day off right. If I was in danger of missing a meal she’d send one of her cute little maids to remind me, and it was a rare day that I’d miss out on her cooking on purpose. So there were almost always three meals a day worth of conversation to keep me connected to what was going on around me.

              As for the late nights? Well, some nights Cerise and Avilla would show up at my workshop together wearing next to nothing, and drag me off to bed. When they were in the mood to be with each other they’d send Tina instead, and the busty redhead would quietly sit and watch me with eyes full of wonder as she waited for me to finish whatever I was doing. Either way, it would take a genuine emergency to make me reject that kind of invitation.

              But at the same time, I somehow had far fewer interruptions than I would have expected. Avilla had taken over managing my appointment schedule so smoothly that I didn’t even notice until she’d been doing it for days, and she was good at it. I had meetings now and then, with Oskar or Marcus or various groups of refugees, but most of the minor crisis and organizational hand-holding got taken care of before it reached me.

              She blushed prettily when I finally caught on, and thanked her.

              “It’s nothing, Daniel,” she protested. “Just a little household magic, scaled up for the whole keep.”

              “Well, I’m impressed,” I told her. “I was afraid I’d end up having to spend half my time just keeping things organized, but you’re doing an amazing job of that. I don’t know how you find the time to do all that and still cook.”

              “Honeydew works hard,” Cerise put in, hugging her. “We should do something nice for her to thank her.”

              “Have you seen my kitchen?” Avilla replied. “I think Daniel’s covered on thanks for the next twenty years. You, on the other hand…”

              Not that Cerise was lazing around either. The dark witch was putting Beri through what sounded like a pretty brutal crash course in witchcraft, in addition to her own struggle to master the demonic power that had come so close to overwhelming her in Lanrest. She was often up late into the night working ritual magic in her little chapel, either alone or with Beri assisting. Then she’d rise early the next morning, throw on a long skirt to hide her tail, and head into town to spend half the day wheeling and dealing. She was the one who arranged most of our purchases, and without her charm and willingness to wheedle deals out of the local merchants I suspected we’d have a lot more trouble getting our people clothed and fed.

              They were both working miracles, but there were still too many problems and not enough of us to go around. Oskar and Captain Rain were stepping up to handle our military affairs well enough, and old Hrodir was helping Oskar’s sons get some craftsmen set up on the island. But there were so many things that weren’t getting done, because no one had time to worry about them.

              On the good side, I had hopes that Elin would be able to start making a contribution soon.

              Her search for an alchemical solution to the disposal problem had been a bust, which didn’t really surprise me in retrospect. Mercury is pretty resistant to most chemical reactions, and the remaining enchantments would protect the fragments from whatever magical effects the local alchemists could create. I vaguely remembered something about mercury reacting with gold from my long-ago high school chemistry classes, but given the modest state of my treasury that didn’t sound like an especially promising avenue to explore.

              But it was the magic that was the problem, and my meta-magic sorcery had eventually provided a solution to that. Elin was intrigued when I extracted a fresh sample from one of her hands, and carefully dropped it into an enchanted stone canister the size of a coffee urn.

              “That’s a very odd-looking enchantment, sir. May I ask what its doing?”

              One of these days I was going to convince her that she didn’t have to call me ‘sir’ all the time, but for now I was happy enough that she could bring herself to talk to me at all without cringing and stammering.

              “What it’s supposed to do is gradually break down the enchantment on the mercury. It tries to drain all the magic out of anything that’s put inside, and there are wards on the stone to cut off access to any external source of power.”

              She peered at the container in fascination. “Oh, how interesting. I see. An intact golem would probably just go into hibernation, but these fragments are so damaged it should be possible to draw out the magic through the breaks in the enchantment. You are a most formidable spellcrafter, sir.”

              I chuckled. “Actually, I’m mostly cheating. I have mana sorcery.”

              She turned to stare at me. “Sorcery… over the stuff of magic itself? Oh my, that’s… but then… oh. Oh!”

              She flushed a little, and bit her lip. “That’s extraordinary, sir. No wonder your spells are so unconventional. I wish I could ask… but no, obviously that’s a secret.”

              She might look like some kind of mutant hillbilly, but I was coming to realize there was an impressive mind hiding behind those deferential manners of hers.

              “Yes, for now it needs to stay a secret,” I confirmed.

              “Of course, sir. I do hope I get to hear the story someday, though. It must be amazing. I assume your, ah, ‘apprentices’ are part of it?”

              “You don’t miss much, do you Elin?”

              She ducked her head, hiding her face behind a curtain of limp hair. “Sorry, sir.”

              “It’s fine, Elin. I actually like the fact that you’re so perceptive. Just don’t go around repeating the things you’ve noticed, alright? I don’t need that kind of trouble right now.”

              “Of course, sir. My fate is in your hands now. I’d be a fool to do anything that might cause you trouble. Only… you are here to help the city, right? Not to destroy it?”

              I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m not here to destroy the city, Elin. I do have a patron, but it isn’t anyone in Loki’s faction. My main goal has to be protecting my own people, but I’ll do what I can for Kozalin.”

              She sighed in relief. “Thank you, sir. I thought so, but I had to be sure. I… um… I’m sorry for doubting you.”

              She shrunk in on herself a little at that. I frowned. The signs were getting hard to ignore.

              “Elin, did they beat you?”

              She flinched.

              “A master is responsible for the discipline of his apprentices,” she said tonelessly.

              Damn.

              “So I’ve been told. Who exactly was your master?”

              Her gaze fell to the floor. “The Conclave as a whole, sir. I… I’m not complaining, sir. They were kind to take me in, before it was even known if I could control myself. I might have transformed and started eating the servants at any moment, for all they knew.”

              “I see. Elin, how old are you?” Her appearance was strange enough that it was actually hard to tell.

              “Twenty, probably. Father… didn’t keep track.”

              So she’d been six when the faerie handed her over to the Conclave? Then she probably had memories of living with her rapist cannibal father before her mother was rescued, and I could barely imagine what that must have been like.

              “Well, you’ve probably noticed that I’m not from around here, and in my own keep I mostly hold to my own customs instead of imitating the Varmlanders. So you may be interested to know that among my people being capricious about matters of discipline is considered evil.”

              She folded her hands in her lap, and licked her lips nervously. “Sir? I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand.”

              I sighed, and suppressed the urge to give the girl a hug. At this point she’d probably take that as a prelude to rape, and the last thing I wanted to do was give her more things to worry about.

              “Elin, you’re a grown woman. You’ve promised to be helpful, and even if you hadn’t you’re old enough to understand that we all need to work together to survive right now. So if I want you to do something I’ll tell you. If I don’t want you to do something I’ll tell you that. If you screw up I’ll explain what you did wrong, and tell you not to do it again. If you make too many mistakes I’ll warn you that you’re trying my patience, and make sure you understand what’s expected of you and what will happen if you don’t do it.”

              “What I won’t do, ever, is punish you out of the blue with no warning. In particular, I’m not going to strike you for saying something I don’t like. In my land men who behave like that are considered pathetic weaklings, and we do nasty things to them when they’re caught.”

              She cautiously peered up at me through the curtain of hair that hid her face. “Really?”

              “Really. You can relax, Elin. I’m not going to hurt you, and I won’t let anyone else do it either. If you ever have trouble with one of the men come tell me, and I’ll deal with it.”

              “Even though I’m a monster?” She asked plaintively.

              “I don’t care who or what your parents were, Elin. Your own actions are the only thing that matters to me.”

              “I...” She paused, and wiped her eyes. “T-thank you, sir. I… I can hardly make myself believe it, but… you won’t regret this. You’ll see. I’ll do everything right, just like I’m supposed to, and you’ll never need to… to… discipline me.”

The last part came out in a whisper. I suppressed a sudden urge to go back to the lab and invent some way to reduce the Iron Citadel to a smoking hole in the ground.

“I’m sure you will, Elin,” I said gently.

She sniffed. “Sir? I… I’m starting to get a little magic back. Is there… what should I be doing? To earn my keep?”

“You’re still an invalid, Elin. Mostly I just want you to keep resting until we finish getting you healed. But it’s going to take a few hours to find out if my idea here is going to work. If you’re feeling up to it, maybe you can help me figure out a way to make that cistern on the roof fill itself?”

She smiled shyly. “I can do that.”

She did, too. She could conjure water as easily as I did earth, although her mana reserves were more limited. Filling the cistern with crystal-clear water only took her a minute, which was a hell of an improvement on my own approach of hauling up chunks of ice from the river. Probably a lot cleaner, too.

Elin smiled at the full cistern, and offered to make that a daily chore. But I had other ideas. She was trained in the basics of wizardry, and while she didn’t have any great skill at enchantment her ability to sense magic seemed unusually precise. With her input it wasn’t hard to rough out a design for an enchantment that would trigger when the water level inside the cistern dropped, and conjure more.

But actually casting it would be tricky. I didn’t have water sorcery, and learning to do the conjuration without that crutch would take more time than I could spare. Elin could create the conjuration enchantment, but she didn’t have the skill to build conditional triggers. Not to mention that it would need a power source, and I wasn’t about to tell her anything about how my matter to mana enchantment worked.

I was trying to figure out a way to enchant the different functions separately and then link them together when Elin diffidently suggested a more direct solution.

“Just lead me through it, sir,” she offered. “I’ve assisted with rituals a few times, and my part in this is simple. I know we don’t have a proper ritual chamber, but our magic is compatible enough. Your power is like steel, and I can easily flow around it and follow along without being hurt.”

“Hmm. Sounds worth a try.”

My only experience with group magic to date had been helping Avilla claim her kitchen as a sanctum, which was an entirely different sort of thing. But it was something I’d just as soon get some practice with anyway. So I had Elin wait while I built the self-powering part of the enchantment, and then invited her in for the rest.