Sorcerer Rising (A Virgil McDane Novel) (8 page)

“Ah,” it said, the mouth slot flickering blue as it spoke. “You must be the Sorcerer.”

I was dumbfounded. It was an honest to God robot!

“Does the Sorcerer have the capacity for speech?” it asked. It sounded
male, but it was hard to tell.

“Yes,” I said finally. “Yeah, I can talk.”

I couldn’t believe I was talking to a robot. They were the newest innovation, one of the countless ridiculous and amazing things Aberland’s company churned out. They were rarely heard of and never affordable. The Mare City Library had rolled one out as its Chief Codex a year or so back, but everyone knew that was just a publicity stunt.

I held out my hand. He was inanimate, but that didn’t mean I had to be rude. “Virgil McD
ane.”

“Virgil McDane,” it repeated, a whirring sound coming from its brass skull. “Son of Harriet and Bartholomew McDane. Sorcerer. Former Wizard of the Guild, Captain in the Arcane Army, specialist in Aetherial biology, sociology, and physics.” He paused, the lenses of his eyes focusing. “Branded and cast out.”

“Hm.” I was surprised, but I really shouldn’t have been. The thing was made to store information, much in the way Al did for me. Science, it really was becoming something amazing. Years ago the only way to create something like this was a complex golem or construct, years of enchanting and research. Now they could be manufactured, with no need for magic or the rare talent of a mage.

You
could imagine what the Guild thought of that.

“I see you have met Arne,” Sam said behind me.

“Yeah,” I replied. “It’s amazing. What did you call it?”

“Arne,” the machine replied. “Automated Research and Navigational Entity.” It paused again. “And I am a he.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “He?”

“He’s still young,” Sam said. “Still full of piss and vinegar. Being able to think for yourself comes at a price. That’s what Cyrus says anyway. He’s developed a bit of an attitude since he got here. Supposedly it’s part of the process,” he said while using quotation marks around process. “That’s another Cyrus quote.”

“It is also,” Arne interrupted, “desirable.”

“Well,” I said. “Aren’t you a cheeky toaster.”

“Mr. Deaton informed me that you may hold hostility toward myself,” Arne said. “He also said you would enjoy whatever emotional reaction I might display. As a result, I will not waste any time explaining the complex and intricate specifications of my inner workings in comparison to a kitchen appliance.”

“He did, did he?” Well, it was true. “Does old Ambrose always rub shoulders with his product like that?”

“Mr. Aberland and Mr. Deaton have taken special interest in my production and design. Mr. Aberland says we are the future and our production is too essential for the less astute.”

“Especially for this,” cut in Sam. “Arne will be our secret weapon for making it to the Arcus. Cyrus wanted everything to be right for this.”

“He did have a more direct hand in my creation and development that most of my brothers, true,” the robot said. “Mr. Aberland is a very prudent man and has included in my programming the knowledge and experience the team will need.”

I snorted. “Doubtful.”

The robot cocked its head to one side. It was creepy. He had obviously seen someone do it but didn’t quite know how to pull it off himself.

“What do you mean?” he
asked.

“The first thing you need to know,” I said, “is that we are not prepared.” I tapped the machine’s chest. “As much as man has progressed, as much as he has developed, never forget that at his core he has been defined by and has thusly defined his world, by magic.”

“What’s that mean?” Sam asked.

“Magic’s scary complex,” I replied. “And it’s all around us. People holed up in the city tend to think that as long as they keep away from the Aether then they’re good. That nothing can touch them. That magic is confined to the Aether. We could never see a cloud and still see more than enough to get us killed.”

“That’s what we have you for,” replied Sam. “Between you and the Wizards, I think we’ve got our bases covered.”

“I concur,” stated the machine. “Is that not your function in this? To advise and protect from these dangers?”

“This isn’t like being a mechanic or a doctor,” I said. “Even when it’s something simple, something known, things change. You prepare your best but that’s not always enough. The more we learn, the more we realize we don’t know as much as we thought we did.”

“Perhaps you are malfunctioning…” said that machine, the lenses of its eyes focusing, glowing intently.

“I think you’re just being cynical,” Sam said, laughing.

“I’m both.” I replied. “But it doesn’t make it any less true. The best we have ever done is explored the Aether, collecting trinkets and knickknacks along the way. We don’t understand it, no matter what we say. As far as science has developed, this is still a world of magic. Half the time we don’t even realize it because it’s so common. Everburn for example.” I pointed at the robot. “He’s probably powered by it. That’s science derived from magic. But there are things in this world that we have no idea about. Things that defy all our theories, all of the facts we have amassed about them. Those are the safe spots, the explored ones. We’re headed for the blank edges of the map. Wonders abound, and horrors await. You’ll see. Just you wait.”

Then I left the lab, making my way out of the building.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Under promise, over deliver. Maybe if they thought the entire world was out to get them they’d think better of me when I dragged their half consumed asses out of the maw of something big, green and slimy.

I passed James on my way out. He was in the same position, a new cigarette in hand. “How’d it go?” His eyes never left the street.

“You’re paid to watch my back too
, right?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Good,” I said, looking up at the building. “I think I’m going to need it.”

CHAPTER
SIX

Curiosity can get people into trouble
. I should know; it’s been getting me into trouble my entire life. Curiosity is part of what makes man the species it is. Necessity is the mother of invention, but for every invention that was made out of necessity, there is at least one that was made for the hell of it.

My motivations for joining the Guild were complicated to say the least, but curi
osity was a big part of it. It was a big world and the Guild gave me the opportunity, hell, the obligation, to see it all. Until everything went horribly, horribly wrong, I loved it. I was good at it then, and I was good at it now.

And part of the reason for that is I always come prepared.

For the unknowable and arcane, I go to the Sisters of His Eternal Truth. They don’t know everything, though try telling them that, but when no one knows anything, they usually know something.

That’s how I found myself standing in the shadow of the Cathedral. Imagine the Cathedral of Saint Paul. Imagine it with bigger gargoyles. And they move. Imagine a structure so big, so complex, that its many towers, arches, and buildings cast shadows all around the area. Now imagine that in those shadows there are things watching. You can’t really see them, but you can hear them. The
y scuttle and scurry and make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

If you listen just right you can hear them speak to you. They whisper and promise and suggest. I asked Sol what was in the Cathedral’s shadows once. He said he didn’t know. He told me they kept the church safe and the Gargoyles were afraid of them. When I asked how they knew they were safe, he laughed. He told me that the angels would never allow them to harm anyone.

For the life of me, I’ve never been able to figure out what he was joking about and what he wasn’t.

As I walked into the Cathedral
, I felt the power of it in all my senses. It rang in my ears, a thousand bells all ringing at once, accompanied by trumpets. Fire and smoke filled my nose and honey played across my tongue. Both warmth and chill, neither uncomfortable, played over my skin.

I made my way down the aisle, past the many rows of benches until I was before the altar.
The Cathedral was different from any other Catholic church I’d ever been in. I mean sure, it was run by fairies, but it was more than that. The real differences were more subtle. I looked up at the simple wooden cross, knelt, and crossed myself. 

I felt quiet and subdued in the hallowed place. I closed my eyes, taking in the feel of it. My parents had been Catholic. Up until their death and my training with the Guild, I
’d gone to Mass every Sunday. I held a great deal of respect for the Sisters, which is kind of unusual for me.

Especially since the feeling wasn’t exactly mutual.

It was tranquil and peaceful and I was enjoying the peace it brought me. So I was thoroughly annoyed as the sound of heavy boots thudding on cold stone moved toward me.

I opened my eyes to see Father Ignatius Lee approaching me. I frowned. Lee was big man, not tall, but broad. An ex-marine, he had fought in a couple different wars, Ander included. I say all this because I know that he didn’t have to stomp. He literally could have been on top of me without my knowing it.

He was holding one hand in the other behind his back, giving me a hard look. Come to think of it, he usually was. He held himself with the dignity of a priest and the ram-rod stance of a drill sergeant. His coal-black hair and sharp, perfectly maintained goatee were beginning to go gray but he still retained the health of his youth. His dress was immaculate, kept to a greater cleanliness than any priest, or soldier for that matter, than I had ever known. Cold blue eyes stared though the lenses of a set of small, wire rimmed spectacles.

“Hello, McDane,” he said simply, his gravelly voice expressing his displeasure.

My respect, tranquility, and just general lack of sarcasm dried up as quickly as it had appeared. I smiled the smile I usually give before someone tries to punch me. “Hello, Iggy. How’s it going in the preaching game?”

His frown, though I doubt it could have deepened, certainly tried. “I am to escort you to the Mother Superior. Come with me.”

It was my turn to frown. “I’ve been here a few times. I think I know how to get around by now.”

“Be that as it may,” he replied shortly, “I am to escort you. And it would most likely go a good deal smoother if you refrained from speaking.”

“Whatever,” I said, holding out my hand for him to lead the way. It was best not to argue with one of the priests of the Cathedral. I swear they were hired purely on how stubborn they were.

He glared at my hand, and then led the way.

As stated before, I knew my way to Sol’s office but I’d never fully explored the Cathedral. It was one of the oldest buildings in Mare. The entire complex was made up of several other building besides the sanctuary, with multiple floors and not just a few basements. And that didn’t even count the secret rooms and chambers, of which I only knew a few.

After about three dozen twists and turns and at least two stairs, we finally arrived at Father Solomon’s library.

Father Ignatius took a spot beside the door, unbuttoning his jacket and folding his hands once more, seemingly putting me out of his mind.

I raised my hand to knock but the door swung open
before I could touch it. Standing before me was the Mother Superior. Her eyes narrowed upon seeing me. Like I said, the respect I had for them wasn’t exactly mutual.

Temperance Valentine, Mother Superior to the Sisters of His Eternal Truth, was a small woman. She was only five and a half feet tall, but somehow she managed to take up the entire space of the doorway. I wasn’t really sure how old she was, at least sixty, but she carried her age well. Her face was wrinkled and her hair was white except for a few streaks of faint black.

She peered at me through half-moon glasses with clear intelligent eyes, the color of steel with flecks of red, blue, and purple. She wore the clothes of a nun, a silver cross hanging around her neck while a strand of prayer beads hung from her belt.

If you were to see her in a grocery store you’d offer to carry her bags. She looked like someone’s grandmother, but she had more steel under her surface than a four-star general.

Her thin lips were held in neither a frown nor a smile as she looked me over. She always did that whenever she saw me, like she was checking to see if anything had changed.

Finally
, she nodded to herself. “Hello, Virgil. I saw you coming.”

I bowed my head. “Mother Superior. I figured as much.” I gestured to Father Ignatius, who was still standing at the door.

Suddenly, she blinked and for a moment I caught a flash of color as her pupils changed shape, sliding into narrow slits. She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. When she opened them, they were distant and exhausted.

“You stupid boy,” she whispered. “What have you gotten yourself into? Chasing th
e Arcus?”

Damn, I hadn’t wanted her to know that. “Don’t go poking around, Mother Superior. My business is my own. I just want some information.”