Spellbreaker (61 page)

“Yes, your father told me.”

“And that the Savanna Walker believed that the empress would cast it against you next?”

“He did, but, Lea, what choice do we have?” Then something occurred to her. “Do you think I should fly you away when I next transform? That way we could get you away from Vivian.”

“N-no,” she said and then paused. “No, I can't leave. I'm Warden of Ixos. I can't abandon Chandralu.”

“Lea, I know you don't think there's any difference between the empire and the league, but that isn't a good reason for letting them capture or kill you.”

“I don't have any intention of letting anyone capture or kill me. And really, Mother, who in their right mind would argue there was a good reason for being captured or killed?”

“I just meant that … Lea, if we can keep you safe long enough, you'll become strong enough to defeat the empire.” When Leandra opened her mouth, Francesca sped up so that she could finish her point. “And I know that you're not sure the league deserves saving, but things change. People want to do better. Not always, maybe not even often, but sometimes they do.”

“I see what you mean,” Leandra said with obvious effort. “Let me think about it.” Which Francesca understood to mean that she would think of a good reason to ignore her mother's advice. “And while I'm doing that, can I ask you to consider something?”

“Defending me from Vivian's spell by deconstructing my draconic aspects?”

“What sets you so against the idea?”

“I never said that I was against the idea.”

“If Vivian does to you what she did to the Savanna Walker it's going to kill you.”

“But all it did to him was take away his draconic nature. That's what you're proposing to do to me anyway. It's the same result.”

Leandra shook her head. “The Savanna Walker started out as an imperial spellwright, like Dad. So when Vivian deconstructed his draconic nature and censored him, she reduced him to a mortal body. It was an ancient and feeble body, but still one that could survive on its own.”

Francesca saw where she was going. “Whereas I was written from a Numinous ghost, so if Vivian takes away my draconic nature, I'll end up little more than a spell.”

“And Numinous ghosts can't survive outside a wizardly necropolis. I could make you a more independent Language Prime construct.”

“Lea, we don't even know if Vivian can write another such spell. We are just speculating.”

“But why take the chance?”

“Do we know what you propose would be safe?”

“Not for certain, but … Mother, it's hard to explain. Now when I touch a textual being, they make perfect sense to me. Without even trying, I can divide their individual aspects and put them back together. I'm sure I could do it.”

“And what would happen to my draconic nature? You'd store it in a book?”

“Well, no. I could appropriate it for myself, but then I'd be vulnerable to Vivian's attack. The best thing to do would be to deconstruct it before she could attack.”

Francesca laughed. “Deconstruct it? Lea, that's who I am. If you destroyed it, you'd destroy me.”

“You always said you were a physician first.”

“First but not only.”

“But you'd still be alive. You'd still have Father and me.”

“Lea, you don't understand.”

Leandra's hands balled into fists. “To continue to fly as a dragon would be to take a far bigger risk. You're being unreasonable.”

“As you are about evacuating to the South.”

Leandra frowned at her. “If I agree to go south, would you let me deconstruct your draconic nature?”

“You'd really hold to your half of that bargain?”

“No,” she said sullenly.

Well, at least she was honest. That was more than Francesca had gotten from her before. “Lea, listen to me. I must stay a dragon so I can fight off the airships when the empire attacks again. But you don't need to be in this city. Your being in danger isn't protecting anyone.”

“Mother—” she began to say but then stopped herself. “I'm not dismissing your suggestion about evacuating to the South. Could you at least do the same for my suggestion?”

Francesca felt a headache coming on. “All right.”

“How long until Vivian attacks again?”

“Could be any moment, but the Savanna Walker did a great deal of damage. I'd guess we have another day, maybe two.”

Leandra stood. “Then after we've each had time to consider, maybe we can talk about it again tonight.”

Francesca stood with her. “All right.”

With that, Leandra walked out of the garden.

Francesca sat and again looked at the koi. Their world was such a small one. The tiny blue pond. They seemed content in it, swimming life away with lazy imprecision.

Footfalls on gravel—to Francesca a gritty colored sound, bright white and gray—made her look up. She expected to see Leandra returning with a newly devised argument. Instead she saw Ellen. “Seeing you here, Ellen, gives me a very bad premonition.”

“You always say the nicest things to me.”

“You know I love you, Ellen, but what's happened?”

“Nothing bad, if that's what you mean.”

“Something good?”

“I wouldn't go that far. I just wanted to let you know that Leandra asked me for help dosing her stress hormone and possibly taking off her loveless spell.”

Francesca felt a twinge of jealousy that her daughter had not asked her own mother for such help. “Well, I'd certainly rather she have a physician taking care of her than not. Do you mind?”

“Not at all; I only thought that you should know.”

“Thank you, Ellen.”

“Leandra also asked if anyone had mentioned doubts about her now that we know she's Los reincarnated. I told her that no one has.”

Francesca looked into her student's eyes. “Were you telling the truth?”

“I was, but that doesn't mean I don't have doubts.”

“Understandable.”

“Magistra…”

“Yes? What is it?”

“Don't you have doubts about Lea?”

“An endless supply of them.” She frowned. “Do you mean something specific?”

“Should we allow Leandra such … latitude … given what she's done and given … who she is?”

“What do you mean?”

“She's the reincarnation of the demon who tried to destroy humanity.”

“That's not who she is now.”

“Are you sure, Magistra?” Ellen asked, her voice softening.

Francesca turned back to the pool and the lotus flower. “No, I suppose I am not.”

“She's your daughter. It's hard to think objectively about such things.”

“Ellen, are you lecturing me?”

“I'd never dream of it.”

“What would you advise?”

“Maybe we should have someone watch her … for signs of danger.”

“If you'll be managing her treatments, perhaps you are best suited for the task.”

Ellen bowed her head.

“But, Ellen, she isn't evil, you know. Impossible and stubborn and dangerous, yes. But even when she was paralyzing her father, she was trying to do good.”

“I never meant to imply that she was otherwise.” Ellen paused to look at the pool. “It's lovely here.”

“I wish I could stay all day.”

“So we shouldn't expect you for breakfast?”

Francesca made a face. “The cook is overly fond of salt fish and mashed taro.” It was the traditional breakfast in the Sea Culture and not one of Francesca's favorites. “But maybe I'll join in a moment.”

Ellen nodded and walked back into the compound.

Francesca took a deep breath and stared into her little blue infinity.

*   *   *

A knock made Vivian look up from her spellbook. “Enter,” she said. When the cabin door swung open she smiled. “Lotannu, thank the Creator you're here. Come in. I have this knot in my neck that I was hoping you could massage—”

“Empress, Captain Cyrus Alarcon has returned. May we interrupt you for a moment?”

Heat flushed across Vivian's face as she stood. “Yes, of course, Magister. Come in.”

Lotannu in wizardly black and Cyrus in hierophantic green walked to the window gallery. Beyond the many clear glass panes the remains of her fleet floated at anchor.

Both men bowed. “Empress, I believe you wanted to see me?” Captain Alarcon asked while lowering his veil.

“Yes, Captain, I would like your opinion about some possible tactics.”

“Of course, Empress.”

“Our scouts and spies confirm that the Savanna Walker has been eliminated. But the remaining dragon, Francesca, poses a threat to our airships. I'd like you to help me get close enough to Francesca to deconstruct her draconic nature. You have particular knowledge of her, and I believe you engaged with her once already on this campaign. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Empress.”

“Excellent. As you might imagine, the air marshals and many of my other … trusted advisors”—she gave Lotannu a meaningful look—“are hesitant to let me take significant risks. Therefore, I wanted to ask you directly if you think it would be possible to draw Francesca away from the city and engage her with the
Queen's Lance
.”

Captain Alarcon considered. “It wouldn't be a simple task; Francesca will want to stay close to the city and its divinities. I could see her breaking away only if her family were in danger or…” He paused and then nodded. “Or if she believed she had a chance to seize victory. But it would have to be a real chance or a surpassingly convincing deception. I doubt we could fool her into pursuing a simple ruse.”

Vivian nodded. It was not the report that she had wanted, but it did not dash her hopes either. “Very good, Captain. You are to form plans that might draw the dragon away from the city and close to me. You report directly to me. All the air marshals have been ordered to assist you. Do you have any questions?”

“Yes, Empress. Do you know if either Nicodemus or his daughter might leave the city?”

“Likely Nicodemus will recast his metaspell. Doing so would weaken our spellwrights and strengthen his deities. I will be forced to counter with my own metaspell afterward. We have reports of a bunker under the Pavilion of the Sky that tunnels down into the mountain. He could hide there in case of an attack from the air. I expect him to climb up the volcano—its name escapes me now—to recast in the next day or so.”

“And would there be a way to know when he is casting?”

“I will see it.”

“May I have some time to think it over?”

“You may, but sooner would be better, Captain.”

He bowed.

“You may go.”

Once the hierophant left the room, Vivian sat down in her chair and sighed. “I'm sorry, old friend. Did I embarrass you too much when I spoke too soon about a massage?”

“Of course not.”

“And would you mind actually massaging this knot in my neck?” She let a plaintive note enter her voice. The past few days had been terribly difficult, and around Lotannu she wasn't above asking for a little care.

He walked around to stand behind her chair. “I won't mind, if you don't mind my delivering some bad news.”

His hands began to knead her tense muscles hard enough to make her wince. Still it was a good feeling. “Were we unable to recuperate the damaged airships?” She asked.

“No, the remaining air fleet is looking surprisingly well considering what it's been through. It is at perhaps three-quarters of our original strength. The naval fleet, on the other hand, is not as well off. Though we have disposed of all the men with the Savanna Walker's madness, only half of the remaining ships are battle ready and they are all undermanned.”

“We discussed this with the air wardens and admirals.”

“We did, but I wanted to remind you of that before I let you know that several sailors have come down with cholera.”

“Cholera?”

“The physicians assure me it can be nothing else. The affected men have been quarantined and put ashore on a large standing island with supplies and healthy volunteers to care for them until we can return to pick them up. Some may die, but if we leave them on board, there is a chance the disease could devastate our remaining crews.”

“Isn't it strange that they should get cholera? We've been at sea for so long. And no one's made landfall recently.” She stood up straight, as a possibility sparked her anger. “Did one of the captains allow his men to take shore leave when we were still hidden under my master spell?”

“That's what I suspected, but my investigations haven't found any evidence for it. There are some reports of an ethereal figure with a glowing aura stalking the decks last night.”

“Ghost stories or were we infiltrated by an Ixonian deity?”

Lotannu took in a thoughtful breath. “The Creator knows the sailors are good at telling ghost stories. However, in Chandralu there is a goddess of cholera.”

“They have a goddess of a diarrheal disease?”

“Her name is Eka and mostly the poor pray to her to prevent or cure cholera. But one of our sailors, whose mother is Ixonian, told me that sometimes the people pray to the goddess to infect those who they dislike.”

“That's horrible.”

“As far as I can tell, it's little different from bribing a magistrate to look the other way while some act of vengeance is committed—which is something that happens in our cities more often than it should.”

“It's not quite the same. The corrupt magistrates only look away; they don't inflict the harm.”

“It ends the same way for the victim.”

“What's your point?”

“I believe that a significant number of Eka's devotees have been praying that the imperial invaders fall ill.”