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Yeah putting it to the test is one way to say it
Great chapter new minions get
Hopefully theses ones don't get themselves killed of early
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The Force of Magic [Star Wars SI]
- Thread starter Boroda Orka
- Start date
Great chapter new minions get
Hopefully theses ones don't get themselves killed of early
Chapter 11
New
Boroda Orka
Making the rounds.
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"Children are the flowers of life. On the graves of Mentors."
© Rung, sorcerer of the Age of Heroes.
I don't like people. And not because I don't know how to cook them, as Ir'rina used to say. I don't mean hatred or contempt by that. I'm simply more comfortable alone most of the time. Teenagers double that dislike, sometimes even triple it. Restless, impulsive, capricious, and quarrelsome. Not all of them, of course, and not out of any malice, but still. But children... I looked at the little red-haired girl, about five years old. Freckles, enormous curious yellow-green eyes, and two funny little braids! Hell, I wasn't taking her along as my apprentice's tagalong! All five were coming as an added bonus to this little darling—that was how adorable she was. Even stern Cordelia was looking at her with an involuntary smile.
And she wasn't afraid of me in the slightest. She looked at me with those clear eyes of hers, and I could read curiosity in them. More than that—I could see delight! I just couldn't figure out why yet: a red-eyed man in a black robe usually wasn't the sort of sight that inspired admiration.
"Are you our new daddy? Why are you glowing like that? Are you sick? Your eyes are all wed!!!"
She would have kept pelting me with questions, adorably mangling her r's, but her sister shushed the girl and pulled her into a hug, looking at me apologetically.
"Sorry, Mr. Siith, Karray is just little," she blurted out, while I fell into thought. For several seconds, I stared silently at the girl. Glowing? But there shouldn't have been any visible effects, and the robe was supposed to suppress any stray emissions. Except it wasn't active, because I'd wanted to fill the reservoirs to the brim first. I'd simply grown used to the artifacts I wore giving off a faint glow in the sorcerous spectrum. Which meant...
"Siith?" But I merely waved Cordelia off and crouched down beside the girl. She was still looking at me with curiosity, while her sister was clearly frightened now.
I couldn't sense any personal mana from the little girl with the braids, but this world washed away the energy generated by one's own core, preventing it from accumulating to any significant level. An aura-diagnostic spell showed me exactly what I would expect from a young, weak sorceress. Seven mana-channel outlets. Seven times fewer than I had. Not a critical limitation, really, even in my own world. And here, where the ocean's magic practically forced its way into your aura to fill it, it mattered even less. Of course, the risk of damaging her core was higher than mine, but proper training and the peculiarities of this world would offset that danger.
"I'm not your new daddy." The main thing was not to smile while looking at this little darling. Everyone was already on edge and had probably imagined all sorts of things about how I was going to start eating the little tyke right then and there, without even bothering with salt. Still, I tried to keep my face relaxed and my gaze and voice friendly. "I'll be your Mentor. Yours, your sister's, and her friends'. That's not the same as a father, of course, Karray, but a Mentor is also a very important person to a spellcaster. I still remember my own Teacher with respect and gratitude, even though many years have passed since my apprenticeship ended."
I patted the girl on the head and winked at her. Her sister—I really needed to learn the teenagers' names, by the way—relaxed a little, though she was still watching me warily. The rest of my future apprentices looked more surprised than anything by the scene unfolding in front of them.
"You're going to teach her too? I thought you were only planning to work with the older ones?" Cordelia, walking beside me toward our transport, was still radiating distrust and suspicion.
"She's the same as me. Those five will become mages, but she'll become a sorceress. Of course, the girl is still too young for serious training, but there are special developmental games and toys that won't be hard to make myself." Once I was settled inside the transport, I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, then let out a deep sigh. "More and more things to do."
"Afraid you won't be able to handle it?" my companion asked with a mocking snort.
"No. It's just depressing. I've been working exclusively on my own projects for quite a long time now, and suddenly I have to rearrange my priorities. It's not really a problem, though. A long life guarantees that sooner or later you'll have time for everything. So I plan to help you, train up a batch of spellcasters, establish decent conditions in this world, and at the same time carry out the research we'll need both for my purposes and for yours. Then, once I have more free time, I'll get back to my own affairs."
"Alto only made a deal with you for supplies of certain things, not for help improving our whole world. And you're being a little too optimistic. 'Establish decent conditions in this world,' hah! That could take decades, if not a century!"
The girl was looking at me as though I were an idiot. I, incidentally, was staring back at her with equal bewilderment.
"Oh, even a blind man can see that your cousin wants nothing but the best for his homeworld. I'm sure that once the Nimbus's needs are taken care of, he'll start thinking bigger. More likely, you're already thinking ahead—perhaps you've even discussed it and made plans." I gave the girl a condescending look. Weather control alone would make life on Jabiim considerably easier. If nothing else, it could provide a stable "window" for trade with the outside world.
The girl pursed her lips. Her expression made it clear I'd guessed right, so I raised the corners of my mouth in the faintest hint of a smile and continued.
"And what's the problem with the timeframe? If it takes a century, then it takes a century. There's a right way to hurry. If setting up a workplace in the mansion could be sped up without sacrificing quality simply by putting in more effort myself, then working with an entire planet is not something to rush. I can wait. It's no great hardship. And afterward, perhaps I'll even be able to recruit one of my apprentices into my own team. I'm used to working alone, of course, but having an assistant who shares my beliefs and ambitions would make life much easier."
Cordelia... was staring at me. There was really no other word for it. Just staring, shock written all over her face. What was with her? Ahhh, wait. I think I got it...
"How old are you, sorcerer?" the girl whispered, sounding almost lost.
Right. Of course. My age.
"Hmm..." How old was I, actually? I began my training at fourteen, said goodbye to my teacher three decades later, and set out on my first journey. Ten years after that came the first war I took part in, followed by my first period of seclusion, which lasted almost a century. Then I was talked into teaching at one of the academies, though I only lasted two decades before another war began, one that dragged on for half a century... Then I met Ir'rina and returned with her to my little "hermit's corner," followed by a hundred happy years of research together, interrupted only by the occasional journey... And after that, two centuries of solitude. Let's round it off a little. "About six hundred by my world's reckoning. Our days are almost the same length. How long is a year here?"
"Three hundred and sixty-eight," the girl replied, staring at me blankly.
"Right. Ours is four hundred... So that makes me... somewhere around six hundred and fifty by your calendar. But that's only approximate. I might've forgotten something or counted wrong, and I never really kept records."
"Holy fucking shit," came the driver's voice from the front seat, followed by an agreeing grunt from the soldier beside him.
"Yeah... Wait! What did you just say, Sergeant?" Cordelia flared with anger. "Just drive, and I don't want to hear either of you talking about this, understood?"
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry."
"Ahem... Siith, is that a normal lifespan in your world?" the girl asked, calming down just as quickly as she had flared up.
"For some spellcasters, yes. Some people with no connection to magic also find ways to extend their lives. And certain races can be naturally long-lived as well. But normally, the lifespan of our kind—humans—is eighty to a hundred and twenty years. Provided, of course, that a person lives a healthy life, eats properly, and keeps themselves in good physical condition. Rejuvenation rituals, which some mages make their living from, are extremely expensive, but still available to ordinary people, and can extend a life by anywhere from five to fifty years, depending on the ritual itself."
"Mmm... And you'll be able to teach those rituals to your apprentices?"
"Of course. Except for the really dark ones involving mass sacrifices of sentients. Sorry, but I'm not going to unleash anything like that on this world." I sighed sadly, looking out at the rain beyond the transport window. "They'll figure those out for themselves eventually, unfortunately."
"You know those too?" There it was again—that aggression. The girl was practically overflowing with indignation, as though I had just begun performing a grand ritual to summon an Archdemon right before her eyes and had already raised the knife over the first innocent infant.
"Of course I do, Cordelia." I let some irritation creep into my voice as I gave an annoyed shrug. This was starting to wear on me. "I know a great many things, but that doesn't mean I use them, understand? You carry a weapon on your belt, but I don't get angry with you just because you can"—I stressed the word—"start killing innocent people indiscriminately. Knowledge matters. Being able to identify a spell as it is being cast is essential if you want to choose the right protective magic. Idiots who turn up their noses at necromancy, malefic arts, demonology, or the schools of Darkness and Chaos will die the first time they run into an enemy who practices them. Any—let me repeat, any—competent spellcaster who wants to stay alive is obligated to know what threats they may encounter in life. To tell undead from a necroconstruct, a chimera from a creature of Chaos, a true vampire from a raised ghoul. Those squeamish prissies only live long by planting their asses in court positions and pompously preaching about the greatness of the Light. And even that lasts only until their verbal diarrhea insults a powerful malefic."
My speech sent the girl retreating into thought. Some of the concepts were clearly unfamiliar to her, because certain words had been replaced with frankly amusing equivalents—for example, "malefic" came through as "evildoer," which was basically accurate. She had grasped the general meaning, but the general's cousin needed some time to process it.
"Tell me, why do you always assume the worst about me?" I decided to break the silence, looking at the girl questioningly. Pulled from her thoughts, she first stared at me in surprise, then gave a crooked smile.
"It's my job to think the worst of everyone. Alto is our commander. He works out patrol routes, looks after us, leads us into battle, defending our world. He takes enemy fire on his shield and spills their blood with sword and blaster. My job is to make sure our people can fight the creatures who rob us and carry us off into slavery without having to fear that another creature just like them, only disguised as a friend, might start shooting them in the back. So no offense, sorcerer. You yourself told my cousin that we've known you for less than a week. Maybe you're a wonderful red-eyed sentient who wouldn't hurt a fly, but you appeared out of nowhere, tell us incredible things, and for some reason no one understands, you want to shower my world with benefits. Of course I'm looking for a catch."
"Oh... I see. Yes, I've spent quite a lot of time alone... I've gotten badly out of practice with things like this." I let myself smile, making a vague gesture in the air with one hand. "At least now I understand your suspicions. A job is a job. And as for this supposedly inexplicable 'benefiting the world,' I've already explained my reasons. I help you improve conditions back home, and in return, you don't interfere with my research. Everyone wins. My apprentices will be able to consult me when necessary, and I'll be able to order the components and materials I need through Jabiim's official channels. And if I decide to go traveling—and I will—I'll have somewhere to come back to."
"You put rather too much faith in people and their gratitude," the woman—who, as I understood it, headed the Nimbus security service—said, shaking her head disapprovingly.
"Not at all." I gave her a thin smile. "You and your cousin don't strike me as idiots, so in time you'll understand that an experienced, loyal sorcerer is an extremely valuable asset. There aren't many like me even in my own world. Duels, wars, failed experiments—they all take their toll. So a competent spellcaster is welcome anywhere, simply because having one around is profitable."
We rode on in silence after that. Cordelia was clearly thinking about something, while I reflected with mild amusement on the fact that she doubted people's gratitude yet was willing to discuss her secrets in front of two soldiers. Then it occurred to me that they were most likely from her own service, and perhaps among her most trusted people... In that case, it made sense. The hope that they might one day be granted a life-extension ritual could encourage both usefulness and loyalty. In any case, I shook my head. That was her business.
By evening, we had finished settling the children in. They were given three rooms in the mansion. This time, the furniture was ordered from the city: three bunk beds, desks for studying, wardrobes, chairs, and bedside tables. Cordelia, incidentally, had taken care of that while we were still on the road, contacting someone over a horribly crackling radio. Teachers were found to handle the children's standard subjects, but at my insistence, the rest of the curriculum was stretched out by a third. I needed their brains to have enough room left to absorb my own science as well. A physical-training instructor would also be moving in with us permanently. Along with mental exhaustion, an apprentice needed to be worn out physically too—a basic truth for anyone raising young walking disasters. A busy, tired child had less chance of breaking their own neck—or, in our case, blowing off their own head or someone else's—because the urge to go looking for adventure came less often when they were in that state.
For Karray, I made several wooden toys that "glow weally cool," earning myself a hug and a shout that I was "the bestest ever-ever." That was actually kind of nice. The toys themselves changed color and the intensity of their glow whenever they interacted with magic, flickered, and gave off "warmth" or "coolness" within the range of sorcerous perception. I'd make her plenty of other developmental things later, but this would be enough for the first few days. The girl couldn't do anything yet, and these bits of wood would serve as a passive stimulus for her gift.
Because of her, incidentally, I had to remove all the surveillance spells first and then set them up again in disguised form. The very first question she asked after getting out of the transport was, "What's that thing glowing?" That, together with a little finger pointed straight at the surveillance spell above the front doors, forced me to dispel all the observation spells except those. Then, under Cordelia's suspicious gaze and with my face carefully mysterious and unreadable, I told her that Karray herself would explain to me what kind of spells they were once she'd learned enough.
I even took the trouble to go to the kitchen myself and ask Maria whether she could handle feeding the growing crowd. For some reason, the girl turned red and rather haltingly assured me that the workload would increase, of course, but she didn't think it would cause any serious problems. I nodded, asked her for a mug of caf, and decided to assign kitchen duty among the apprentices. Five days in the week, five teenagers—what was that if not a sign from above? Heh-heh. When the kitchen magician objected, I told her that, first, work builds character, and second, learning to cook from a master like her was something they'd have to pay for anywhere else.
The girl really had no reason to be shy: she had both talent and skill. I had always respected true professionals, and cooks with a golden touch were something I rarely came across. Leaving the thoroughly flushed kitchen magician alone and taking Quartermaster with me—he was sprawled across one of the tables like a monument to gluttony—I headed for the workshop. I'd furnished it, sure, but I still needed to lay the proper enchantments on it. If I went without sleep for one day, nothing terrible would happen. But only one, I told myself sternly. Ir'rina had always scolded me when I buried myself in work for several days straight, and she had been right—a proper routine made it possible to work more efficiently. The mind needed proper rest.
"How did it go, Cordelia?" The general looked tired as he sat in his "temporary" office. Every Nimbus base had rooms like this. Stratus tried to visit them all, talk to the soldiers, keep an eye on their training, and take part in patrols, but the duties of command still had to be done.
"I'm fu—... freaking out, Alto. Either he's lying through his teeth, or we've taken in a genuine monster." The girl dropped wearily into an armchair and nodded her thanks to Roger as he set a cup of caf in front of her. "According to him, he's in his seventh century!!!"
"So what?" the general shrugged calmly. "That green stump who's in charge of the Jedi is supposed to be about a thousand years old already, or somewhere around there."
"The point is, he calls himself human. Like you and me. And I doubt he's mistaken about us being the same species—not after healing four humans. Here are the reports." The girl placed three folders on the desk. "I recommend you destroy them after you've read them. Life-extension rituals, Alto. He talked about them as casually as if there were nothing remarkable about it. Our sorcerer has no idea that half the galaxy would kiss his ass for something like that, while the other half would try to kidnap him and force him into their service! And he plans to teach those rituals to the children he's recruited!"
Stratus pulled the folders toward himself and looked questioningly at his cousin. The archaic way the reports had been written—archaic even by Jabiim's standards—surprised him.
"I didn't want the information digitized. Everything's on flimsi, all handwritten. Either lock it in a safe afterward or burn it." The girl took a sip of caf and grimaced slightly. "And we found a cook for him who's far too good. I had no idea Maria could cook that well. No offense, Roger."
The young man merely smiled faintly at that. Making caf really wasn't one of his strong suits, nor was cooking in general. And he had already had a chance to appreciate his fellow soldier's skill. He had even started thinking that he ought to begin courting her before someone else took an interest in that treasure.
Cordelia rubbed her forehead hard. Annoyance, exhaustion, and irritation flickered across her face.
"Tomorrow I'm sending another one of my people over there as the children's physical-training instructor. They can help Sergiy while they're at it. I'm sending the people I trust most, Alto, and they don't exactly grow on trees. And I still need to find teachers who know how to keep their mouths shut... Oh, and the sorcerer was pushing to get those samples sent over. Says he'll start training the children in the next few days and he'll need materials. He also needs some kind of consumables for the weather sorcery."
"The first shipment will be there tomorrow," the general said in a reassuring tone. "You should get some rest, Cordelia."
"Rest... and who's going to do the work? That... what's her name? Hecate? Ah... Fine, I'm off. I'm up to my ass in work..."
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
© Rung, sorcerer of the Age of Heroes.
I don't like people. And not because I don't know how to cook them, as Ir'rina used to say. I don't mean hatred or contempt by that. I'm simply more comfortable alone most of the time. Teenagers double that dislike, sometimes even triple it. Restless, impulsive, capricious, and quarrelsome. Not all of them, of course, and not out of any malice, but still. But children... I looked at the little red-haired girl, about five years old. Freckles, enormous curious yellow-green eyes, and two funny little braids! Hell, I wasn't taking her along as my apprentice's tagalong! All five were coming as an added bonus to this little darling—that was how adorable she was. Even stern Cordelia was looking at her with an involuntary smile.
And she wasn't afraid of me in the slightest. She looked at me with those clear eyes of hers, and I could read curiosity in them. More than that—I could see delight! I just couldn't figure out why yet: a red-eyed man in a black robe usually wasn't the sort of sight that inspired admiration.
"Are you our new daddy? Why are you glowing like that? Are you sick? Your eyes are all wed!!!"
She would have kept pelting me with questions, adorably mangling her r's, but her sister shushed the girl and pulled her into a hug, looking at me apologetically.
"Sorry, Mr. Siith, Karray is just little," she blurted out, while I fell into thought. For several seconds, I stared silently at the girl. Glowing? But there shouldn't have been any visible effects, and the robe was supposed to suppress any stray emissions. Except it wasn't active, because I'd wanted to fill the reservoirs to the brim first. I'd simply grown used to the artifacts I wore giving off a faint glow in the sorcerous spectrum. Which meant...
"Siith?" But I merely waved Cordelia off and crouched down beside the girl. She was still looking at me with curiosity, while her sister was clearly frightened now.
I couldn't sense any personal mana from the little girl with the braids, but this world washed away the energy generated by one's own core, preventing it from accumulating to any significant level. An aura-diagnostic spell showed me exactly what I would expect from a young, weak sorceress. Seven mana-channel outlets. Seven times fewer than I had. Not a critical limitation, really, even in my own world. And here, where the ocean's magic practically forced its way into your aura to fill it, it mattered even less. Of course, the risk of damaging her core was higher than mine, but proper training and the peculiarities of this world would offset that danger.
"I'm not your new daddy." The main thing was not to smile while looking at this little darling. Everyone was already on edge and had probably imagined all sorts of things about how I was going to start eating the little tyke right then and there, without even bothering with salt. Still, I tried to keep my face relaxed and my gaze and voice friendly. "I'll be your Mentor. Yours, your sister's, and her friends'. That's not the same as a father, of course, Karray, but a Mentor is also a very important person to a spellcaster. I still remember my own Teacher with respect and gratitude, even though many years have passed since my apprenticeship ended."
I patted the girl on the head and winked at her. Her sister—I really needed to learn the teenagers' names, by the way—relaxed a little, though she was still watching me warily. The rest of my future apprentices looked more surprised than anything by the scene unfolding in front of them.
"You're going to teach her too? I thought you were only planning to work with the older ones?" Cordelia, walking beside me toward our transport, was still radiating distrust and suspicion.
"She's the same as me. Those five will become mages, but she'll become a sorceress. Of course, the girl is still too young for serious training, but there are special developmental games and toys that won't be hard to make myself." Once I was settled inside the transport, I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, then let out a deep sigh. "More and more things to do."
"Afraid you won't be able to handle it?" my companion asked with a mocking snort.
"No. It's just depressing. I've been working exclusively on my own projects for quite a long time now, and suddenly I have to rearrange my priorities. It's not really a problem, though. A long life guarantees that sooner or later you'll have time for everything. So I plan to help you, train up a batch of spellcasters, establish decent conditions in this world, and at the same time carry out the research we'll need both for my purposes and for yours. Then, once I have more free time, I'll get back to my own affairs."
"Alto only made a deal with you for supplies of certain things, not for help improving our whole world. And you're being a little too optimistic. 'Establish decent conditions in this world,' hah! That could take decades, if not a century!"
The girl was looking at me as though I were an idiot. I, incidentally, was staring back at her with equal bewilderment.
"Oh, even a blind man can see that your cousin wants nothing but the best for his homeworld. I'm sure that once the Nimbus's needs are taken care of, he'll start thinking bigger. More likely, you're already thinking ahead—perhaps you've even discussed it and made plans." I gave the girl a condescending look. Weather control alone would make life on Jabiim considerably easier. If nothing else, it could provide a stable "window" for trade with the outside world.
The girl pursed her lips. Her expression made it clear I'd guessed right, so I raised the corners of my mouth in the faintest hint of a smile and continued.
"And what's the problem with the timeframe? If it takes a century, then it takes a century. There's a right way to hurry. If setting up a workplace in the mansion could be sped up without sacrificing quality simply by putting in more effort myself, then working with an entire planet is not something to rush. I can wait. It's no great hardship. And afterward, perhaps I'll even be able to recruit one of my apprentices into my own team. I'm used to working alone, of course, but having an assistant who shares my beliefs and ambitions would make life much easier."
Cordelia... was staring at me. There was really no other word for it. Just staring, shock written all over her face. What was with her? Ahhh, wait. I think I got it...
"How old are you, sorcerer?" the girl whispered, sounding almost lost.
Right. Of course. My age.
"Hmm..." How old was I, actually? I began my training at fourteen, said goodbye to my teacher three decades later, and set out on my first journey. Ten years after that came the first war I took part in, followed by my first period of seclusion, which lasted almost a century. Then I was talked into teaching at one of the academies, though I only lasted two decades before another war began, one that dragged on for half a century... Then I met Ir'rina and returned with her to my little "hermit's corner," followed by a hundred happy years of research together, interrupted only by the occasional journey... And after that, two centuries of solitude. Let's round it off a little. "About six hundred by my world's reckoning. Our days are almost the same length. How long is a year here?"
"Three hundred and sixty-eight," the girl replied, staring at me blankly.
"Right. Ours is four hundred... So that makes me... somewhere around six hundred and fifty by your calendar. But that's only approximate. I might've forgotten something or counted wrong, and I never really kept records."
"Holy fucking shit," came the driver's voice from the front seat, followed by an agreeing grunt from the soldier beside him.
"Yeah... Wait! What did you just say, Sergeant?" Cordelia flared with anger. "Just drive, and I don't want to hear either of you talking about this, understood?"
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry."
"Ahem... Siith, is that a normal lifespan in your world?" the girl asked, calming down just as quickly as she had flared up.
"For some spellcasters, yes. Some people with no connection to magic also find ways to extend their lives. And certain races can be naturally long-lived as well. But normally, the lifespan of our kind—humans—is eighty to a hundred and twenty years. Provided, of course, that a person lives a healthy life, eats properly, and keeps themselves in good physical condition. Rejuvenation rituals, which some mages make their living from, are extremely expensive, but still available to ordinary people, and can extend a life by anywhere from five to fifty years, depending on the ritual itself."
"Mmm... And you'll be able to teach those rituals to your apprentices?"
"Of course. Except for the really dark ones involving mass sacrifices of sentients. Sorry, but I'm not going to unleash anything like that on this world." I sighed sadly, looking out at the rain beyond the transport window. "They'll figure those out for themselves eventually, unfortunately."
"You know those too?" There it was again—that aggression. The girl was practically overflowing with indignation, as though I had just begun performing a grand ritual to summon an Archdemon right before her eyes and had already raised the knife over the first innocent infant.
"Of course I do, Cordelia." I let some irritation creep into my voice as I gave an annoyed shrug. This was starting to wear on me. "I know a great many things, but that doesn't mean I use them, understand? You carry a weapon on your belt, but I don't get angry with you just because you can"—I stressed the word—"start killing innocent people indiscriminately. Knowledge matters. Being able to identify a spell as it is being cast is essential if you want to choose the right protective magic. Idiots who turn up their noses at necromancy, malefic arts, demonology, or the schools of Darkness and Chaos will die the first time they run into an enemy who practices them. Any—let me repeat, any—competent spellcaster who wants to stay alive is obligated to know what threats they may encounter in life. To tell undead from a necroconstruct, a chimera from a creature of Chaos, a true vampire from a raised ghoul. Those squeamish prissies only live long by planting their asses in court positions and pompously preaching about the greatness of the Light. And even that lasts only until their verbal diarrhea insults a powerful malefic."
My speech sent the girl retreating into thought. Some of the concepts were clearly unfamiliar to her, because certain words had been replaced with frankly amusing equivalents—for example, "malefic" came through as "evildoer," which was basically accurate. She had grasped the general meaning, but the general's cousin needed some time to process it.
"Tell me, why do you always assume the worst about me?" I decided to break the silence, looking at the girl questioningly. Pulled from her thoughts, she first stared at me in surprise, then gave a crooked smile.
"It's my job to think the worst of everyone. Alto is our commander. He works out patrol routes, looks after us, leads us into battle, defending our world. He takes enemy fire on his shield and spills their blood with sword and blaster. My job is to make sure our people can fight the creatures who rob us and carry us off into slavery without having to fear that another creature just like them, only disguised as a friend, might start shooting them in the back. So no offense, sorcerer. You yourself told my cousin that we've known you for less than a week. Maybe you're a wonderful red-eyed sentient who wouldn't hurt a fly, but you appeared out of nowhere, tell us incredible things, and for some reason no one understands, you want to shower my world with benefits. Of course I'm looking for a catch."
"Oh... I see. Yes, I've spent quite a lot of time alone... I've gotten badly out of practice with things like this." I let myself smile, making a vague gesture in the air with one hand. "At least now I understand your suspicions. A job is a job. And as for this supposedly inexplicable 'benefiting the world,' I've already explained my reasons. I help you improve conditions back home, and in return, you don't interfere with my research. Everyone wins. My apprentices will be able to consult me when necessary, and I'll be able to order the components and materials I need through Jabiim's official channels. And if I decide to go traveling—and I will—I'll have somewhere to come back to."
"You put rather too much faith in people and their gratitude," the woman—who, as I understood it, headed the Nimbus security service—said, shaking her head disapprovingly.
"Not at all." I gave her a thin smile. "You and your cousin don't strike me as idiots, so in time you'll understand that an experienced, loyal sorcerer is an extremely valuable asset. There aren't many like me even in my own world. Duels, wars, failed experiments—they all take their toll. So a competent spellcaster is welcome anywhere, simply because having one around is profitable."
We rode on in silence after that. Cordelia was clearly thinking about something, while I reflected with mild amusement on the fact that she doubted people's gratitude yet was willing to discuss her secrets in front of two soldiers. Then it occurred to me that they were most likely from her own service, and perhaps among her most trusted people... In that case, it made sense. The hope that they might one day be granted a life-extension ritual could encourage both usefulness and loyalty. In any case, I shook my head. That was her business.
By evening, we had finished settling the children in. They were given three rooms in the mansion. This time, the furniture was ordered from the city: three bunk beds, desks for studying, wardrobes, chairs, and bedside tables. Cordelia, incidentally, had taken care of that while we were still on the road, contacting someone over a horribly crackling radio. Teachers were found to handle the children's standard subjects, but at my insistence, the rest of the curriculum was stretched out by a third. I needed their brains to have enough room left to absorb my own science as well. A physical-training instructor would also be moving in with us permanently. Along with mental exhaustion, an apprentice needed to be worn out physically too—a basic truth for anyone raising young walking disasters. A busy, tired child had less chance of breaking their own neck—or, in our case, blowing off their own head or someone else's—because the urge to go looking for adventure came less often when they were in that state.
For Karray, I made several wooden toys that "glow weally cool," earning myself a hug and a shout that I was "the bestest ever-ever." That was actually kind of nice. The toys themselves changed color and the intensity of their glow whenever they interacted with magic, flickered, and gave off "warmth" or "coolness" within the range of sorcerous perception. I'd make her plenty of other developmental things later, but this would be enough for the first few days. The girl couldn't do anything yet, and these bits of wood would serve as a passive stimulus for her gift.
Because of her, incidentally, I had to remove all the surveillance spells first and then set them up again in disguised form. The very first question she asked after getting out of the transport was, "What's that thing glowing?" That, together with a little finger pointed straight at the surveillance spell above the front doors, forced me to dispel all the observation spells except those. Then, under Cordelia's suspicious gaze and with my face carefully mysterious and unreadable, I told her that Karray herself would explain to me what kind of spells they were once she'd learned enough.
I even took the trouble to go to the kitchen myself and ask Maria whether she could handle feeding the growing crowd. For some reason, the girl turned red and rather haltingly assured me that the workload would increase, of course, but she didn't think it would cause any serious problems. I nodded, asked her for a mug of caf, and decided to assign kitchen duty among the apprentices. Five days in the week, five teenagers—what was that if not a sign from above? Heh-heh. When the kitchen magician objected, I told her that, first, work builds character, and second, learning to cook from a master like her was something they'd have to pay for anywhere else.
The girl really had no reason to be shy: she had both talent and skill. I had always respected true professionals, and cooks with a golden touch were something I rarely came across. Leaving the thoroughly flushed kitchen magician alone and taking Quartermaster with me—he was sprawled across one of the tables like a monument to gluttony—I headed for the workshop. I'd furnished it, sure, but I still needed to lay the proper enchantments on it. If I went without sleep for one day, nothing terrible would happen. But only one, I told myself sternly. Ir'rina had always scolded me when I buried myself in work for several days straight, and she had been right—a proper routine made it possible to work more efficiently. The mind needed proper rest.
"How did it go, Cordelia?" The general looked tired as he sat in his "temporary" office. Every Nimbus base had rooms like this. Stratus tried to visit them all, talk to the soldiers, keep an eye on their training, and take part in patrols, but the duties of command still had to be done.
"I'm fu—... freaking out, Alto. Either he's lying through his teeth, or we've taken in a genuine monster." The girl dropped wearily into an armchair and nodded her thanks to Roger as he set a cup of caf in front of her. "According to him, he's in his seventh century!!!"
"So what?" the general shrugged calmly. "That green stump who's in charge of the Jedi is supposed to be about a thousand years old already, or somewhere around there."
"The point is, he calls himself human. Like you and me. And I doubt he's mistaken about us being the same species—not after healing four humans. Here are the reports." The girl placed three folders on the desk. "I recommend you destroy them after you've read them. Life-extension rituals, Alto. He talked about them as casually as if there were nothing remarkable about it. Our sorcerer has no idea that half the galaxy would kiss his ass for something like that, while the other half would try to kidnap him and force him into their service! And he plans to teach those rituals to the children he's recruited!"
Stratus pulled the folders toward himself and looked questioningly at his cousin. The archaic way the reports had been written—archaic even by Jabiim's standards—surprised him.
"I didn't want the information digitized. Everything's on flimsi, all handwritten. Either lock it in a safe afterward or burn it." The girl took a sip of caf and grimaced slightly. "And we found a cook for him who's far too good. I had no idea Maria could cook that well. No offense, Roger."
The young man merely smiled faintly at that. Making caf really wasn't one of his strong suits, nor was cooking in general. And he had already had a chance to appreciate his fellow soldier's skill. He had even started thinking that he ought to begin courting her before someone else took an interest in that treasure.
Cordelia rubbed her forehead hard. Annoyance, exhaustion, and irritation flickered across her face.
"Tomorrow I'm sending another one of my people over there as the children's physical-training instructor. They can help Sergiy while they're at it. I'm sending the people I trust most, Alto, and they don't exactly grow on trees. And I still need to find teachers who know how to keep their mouths shut... Oh, and the sorcerer was pushing to get those samples sent over. Says he'll start training the children in the next few days and he'll need materials. He also needs some kind of consumables for the weather sorcery."
"The first shipment will be there tomorrow," the general said in a reassuring tone. "You should get some rest, Cordelia."
"Rest... and who's going to do the work? That... what's her name? Hecate? Ah... Fine, I'm off. I'm up to my ass in work..."
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
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readsalot
Experienced.
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Guys In for a shock when he realises the goddess is real XD
Also, I realised that Siith does not need to invite the other gods Into the universe, Hecate can pass on the option to other mages/sorcerers he's training and give them the chance to do it.
And most likely they will if they are bribed enough.
Would add more to the chaos
I'm 50/50 on that
Treangulator
Not too sore, are you?
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Chapter 12
New
Boroda Orka
Making the rounds.
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Hard... So hard... An unbearable torment beyond words: I hate waking up... Especially when I only went to bed three hours ago. And to make matters worse, it wasn't Luritta waking me up, but M-3PO.
"At least I got everything done," I rasped in a voice that barely sounded like my own. Sitting up, I grabbed the mug of caf from the bedside table.
"Master, I would like to point out that such a daily routine is harmful to your health. Humans require seven to nine hours of sleep," my new property chimed in. I merely waved him off as I headed for the bathroom, casting a simple healing spell on myself along the way. A sentient nag of a golem. If someone had told me about such a thing, I wouldn't have believed them.
Before the teenagers started breakfast, I sat down at the table and delighted them with the news about kitchen duty. I saw no enthusiasm on their faces, and the boys even came out with something along the lines of, "We're men; women are supposed to do the cooking." I ignored their words and did full justice to the excellent food. But once everyone had eaten, I asked whether they had enjoyed it. Remarkable unanimity, I snorted to myself as I listened to them sing the praises of our kitchen magician's cooking.
"There are ten of us here already, kids, and there's only one Maria. Cooking for a horde this size is hard work. Now, if you're fine with tasty food turning into slop, then I suppose we can do without kitchen duty..." I gave my future apprentices an ironic look as they started chiming in from all sides that they'd "help, fine, whatever." There we go. That's more like it.
After that, things really got moving. The teachers wouldn't start coming to the house for another few days, so I gathered all five of them in the attic. While giving them an introductory lecture—explaining the possibilities of sorcery, the basics, and the various paths they could pursue—I was also putting together some more advanced toys for Karray.
It was amusing to watch the children sneak glances at the wood flowing from one shape into another. I had added a few extra effects during the enchanting as well, so the little animal figures would flare with webs of runes one moment and multicolored lights the next. Children needed to see the beauty of magic so they wouldn't lose interest during the first couple of months of dull theory and meditation. I even found myself slipping into a kind of peaceful state. It felt as though I had taken a break from constant work—work I loved, but which was difficult and exhausting. Maybe having to put my own projects aside for a while wasn't such a bad thing after all?
"Mr. Siith," one of the boys, Dan, cut in. "You said that spellcasters are divided into mages and sorcerers, and that sorcerers can see magic. And you also said that magic is everywhere—an ocean of it. But Karray only saw your things glowing. Why is that?"
"Just call me Siith. Teacher is fine too. I don't like all those sirs and masters. Back to your question: seeing and sensing are things you have to learn as well. Humans are... mm... too material. And the material world is too bright for us—it keeps us from making out the colors of the world of magic. Just as sunlight renders any attempt by the moons to light your path pointless. An untrained sorcerer can easily live the life of an ordinary person and die without ever realizing what they were. But there is one common trait, especially in children: young sorcerers interpret sensations from magic through feelings they already know. For example, a stone saturated with the elemental power of fire will feel 'warm' to them—but not warm to the touch. More like... it somehow feels warm."
The children laughed—all except the sisters. Karray nodded solemnly, as if confirming, Yes, that's exactly right, while her older red-haired sister fell into thought, clearly remembering something.
"Yes, it sounds funny, but I heard something like that myself from one young spellcaster. And then, as children grow older, they train themselves to ignore such 'nonsense.' Though they still tend to get rid of obviously cursed or dangerous things if they're poorly disguised. There was a case, for example, when a young man inherited a mansion and threw out one of the paintings. 'It always frightened and irritated me,' he said. Later it turned out that the damned thing had been feeding on the lives of his relatives. So, something like that. As for why Karray could see my artifacts glowing—that was because they were unnatural and had no concealment spells. Free magic is everywhere. We're used to it, we live in it, and seeing it requires special techniques. Without them, a sorcerer simply experiences the world as more alive, colors as brighter, emotions as stronger... But foreign magic—magic that isn't 'natural,' that has been transformed by a spellcaster's aura—is clearly visible to any sorcerer."
About ten days later, I finally found the right components for the weather-control ritual. Stratus wanted to combine the trial clearing of the clouds with the departure of a couple of ore haulers that were currently waiting for a "window" in the cloud cover, but I talked him out of it. This would be my first attempt in this world—who knew how the weather would behave here, on a sphere?
So there we stood beneath an umbrella-like dome stretched over both us and the patch of ground where the ritual figure was to be drawn. The children were practically devouring Alto with their eyes, while he calmly sipped caf from a special thermos, making me envy him beyond measure—I hadn't thought to bring any from home myself. Cordelia, wearing a sleepy, disgruntled expression, glanced at each of us in turn. She didn't like mornings either. Funny, but in my eyes, that fact outweighed her constant suspiciousness and difficult temperament. So I liked her better for it—especially in the mornings.
Alto, incidentally, had met my apprentices a few days earlier. After we talked in the library, I talked him into putting on a little performance with me. To be honest, I expected another dose of skepticism, but the general surprised me by taking the matter seriously. "This isn't a performance, sorcerer. It's the truth, and it's necessary," were his exact words. Then the two of us went to the sitting room, where Emthree—as I had taken to calling the gole... droid—had gathered the children.
Stratus spoke for no less than ten minutes. He addressed each of them by name and explained how important what they were doing was for Jabiim. He knew that both boys and the military-minded girl had been orphaned in a Trandoshan raid. Choosing his words skillfully, he soon had all three practically pawing at the ground, so eager were they to start producing protective charms for the Nimbus—to save the fighters who would then keep the enemies of their world away from other civilian families. He spoke about the respect and status the young mages would earn once their training was complete. With a smirk, he added that they wouldn't be stingy with credits either, so they wouldn't have to worry about food or comfort, which earned an understanding smile from Taria, the blonde who had a healthy respect for financial security. He told Karray how lucky she was to have such a caring sister in Karina, and promised that he and the entire Nimbus would protect them and make sure no one harmed them.
Talent. I could only marvel inwardly. Alto was an extraordinarily gifted man—in war and in dealing with people alike. Even now, while preparing the site for the magical ritual, I found myself remembering that moment and feeling genuine respect for the general. I could work with people like that.
I leveled out a circle of ground fifteen meters across, dried it, and packed it down. Then I surrounded it with a force barrier to keep the water out and began drawing the patterns. For nearly an hour I moved around the circle, tracing the necessary lines and symbols and placing the components where they needed to be for everything to trigger correctly. After that came the application of the required constructs, designed to launch all the processes in the proper sequence. The final touch was setting the mana reservoirs in place to power the ritual.
According to my preliminary calculations, both the mana supply and the durability of the ritual structure should be enough for two or three hours of operation, and although I knew the ritual well, safety still had to come first.
First, we were a long way from any inhabited settlements, with one exception. There were no civilians there, only a Nimbus garrison. It had been arranged that way in case pirates happened to be waiting in orbit around the planet. I'd overheard Cordelia telling her cousin that "there won't be any problems—the cover story is airtight."
Second, about half a kilometer away, a protected zone had been set up. All the components used in the magical construction had been studied, but they were still new to me, and proper precautions were necessary even if there was only the faintest chance of failure. So I started a ten-minute timer, and all of us climbed into the nearby transport and headed for the designated area.
** Same place. Alto Stratus **
"It's started," the red-eyed sorcerer said with satisfaction, tilting his head back to look at the sky. They stood beneath a transparent dome that protected them from the rain and gusting wind. Around them, drawn on the dry, level ground, was a figure that Siith had described as "protective circuits, just in case."
The sky erupted in a succession of brilliant lightning flashes, and a second later the surrounding air filled with peals of thunder. They sounded like an artillery barrage. The noise was so powerful he could feel it vibrating through his insides. The clouds churning overhead began to move. They hadn't been still before, of course, but now there was a strange sense of order to their motion. Cordelia, standing beside him, said something, but over the fury of the elements her voice was impossible to make out. Judging by her expression, though, his cousin was swearing again.
A few minutes later, it was already easy to make out the clouds overhead gathering speed as they moved in a circle. Lightning flashed without end, and thunder rolled continuously, bringing on a mild headache and, at the same time, a strange sense of childlike delight. Glancing at the children, the general was surprised to see little Karray sitting on the shoulders of a terrifyingly grinning Siith, happily chattering away to him, every now and then looking up at the sky in delight and waving her arms excitedly. Apparently, the sorcerer had somehow muffled the cannonade of the storm for the two of them, because they were clearly able to talk without any trouble.
Alto was not an especially trusting man. Politics quickly cured a man of excessive openness and of trusting every stranger he met... Though the latter was hardly a good trait even for ordinary people. Despite that, the general considered himself an honest man. Honest and fair.
That was exactly why, back at that transit point, he had decided not to send his people to handle the conversation, but to meet the strange visitor to Jabiim personally and thank him. After all, the man really had helped the people of that settlement. He had done what the Nimbus could not have done in time. And when Alto entered the medical station, he saw the stranger treating his fellow Jabiimites. There was no showy politeness or concern, and yet not a single patient even cried out during the healing. In halting phrases, the red-eyed man gave them instructions and asked for caf. Alert and, it seemed, satisfied with the work he had done, he showed no sign of nervousness or doubt. To be completely honest, though, their conversation had been shaped not only by the general's gratitude, but also by the power the sorcerer had demonstrated: killing the entire lizard landing force at once was a very good reason to be polite to a sentient.
At first, Alto thought the Temple had finally sent a Jedi to help. Well, at least now, flashed through his mind. For centuries, Jabiim had cried out for help, begged for it, demanded it! And in return there had been either silence or some bureaucratic: "We will certainly look into your problem." The general ground his teeth, remembering the fury those little bureaucratic notes had sent him into every time he read them.
Then came the misunderstanding, and the visitor was taken for a Sith. The enemies of the Jedi Order had been wiped out nearly a thousand years ago, and Alto had only ever taken a passing interest in them. Terrible, horrible, evil, wicked things, according to the Order of the "Republic's defenders," they were little more than a bogeyman and a swear word. At the time he had thought: To hell with what they say. This Sith helped my people. He deserves a chance. I need to watch him, see what he's really like. Maybe everything they say about his kind is just propaganda. History is written by the victors, and the Sith were the losing side.
A risk, yes. But the red-eyed man had earned a measure of trust.
In the end, the sorcerer turned out to be... who the hell even knew what. Everything he told them inspired doubt and suspicion, but he only smiled that unsettling smile of his and said outright that doubt was a good thing. He didn't like working with gullible idiots, so he would demonstrate everything himself.
And he did.
He had been demonstrating his abilities even before that conversation—making little bone trinkets that provided excellent protection against blasters, healing people, and using magic that let vehicles cross the mud of their homeworld as if they were driving on a smooth road...
And now the sorcerer was demonstrating his skill again, Alto thought as he watched a patch of clear sky appear at the center of the rotating disk of clouds. The small cloudless opening grew wider and wider, like the opening iris of an airlock door.
"The doors to space..." the general whispered, not even trying to hide his smile. Soon he would see the sun and a clear sky. For a Jabiimite, that was a genuine joy. And he would do everything in his power to make sure his people felt only that joy, not the fear that bandit landing ships might come plunging down from the cloudless sky.
The sorcerer had not lied to him once so far. Of course, that still wasn't enough to trust him blindly, but Stratus was a man of honor. If Siith truly helped his world, the general would do everything he could to repay him. The main thing was that it must not come at his homeland's expense.
Half an hour later, the rain had stopped, and the clouds were circling in a ring around a vast expanse of clear sky. Sunlight gently warmed the smiling people below.
But their smiles didn't last long.
A rapidly growing speck appeared in the clear sky.
"General," the sorcerer said, drawing his attention as he pointed at the sky and at a... remarkably detailed hologram hovering above his palm. "That's it."
"A Gozanti," Cordelia clicked her tongue beside him. "Cargo hold's probably been modified for hauling slaves."
Alto frowned, running through the options in his head, while Siith bared his teeth in a frightening grin and asked an unexpected question.
"Is that thing expensive?"
"A hundred and fifty thousand credits for a new one," Alto answered automatically. "They've only recently hit the market..."
"One hundred and fifty thousand sounds excellent! Not as good as two hundred, but better than one hundred," the red-eyed man muttered, rubbing his hands together. A little animal's face poked out from the collar of his robe, sniffing the air excitedly with its funny little nose and letting out funny little squeaks. Siith gently scratched the creature under the jaw and smiled. "Yes, yes, Quartermaster. Smells like profit. I want to take a look at that flying coffin... Right, I suggest we head back to our people. As soon as that Gozanti lands, I'll shut down the ritual, and then this baby isn't getting away from us... General, if your radios have the range, order your troops to hide in the forest. No point risking them right now. I'll show you how I used to hunt bandits back home. Heh-heh-heh..."
Sitting in the passenger compartment and looking out the window at the rain once again pouring from the gloomy sky, I whistled a tune I had heard from my beloved long, long ago. I managed to convince both Stratuses after all. Oddly enough, Cordelia backed me almost immediately, and after her, Alto let himself be talked into it as well. Our wheeled steed had been covered with all the necessary concealment spells, which immediately drew questions from both cousins.
After a short drive, we climbed out into the fresh air and took cover behind a small grove not far from where the flying coffin was coming down. On the way, I'd arranged for them to let me inspect the prize and pay me half its value once it had been appraised. Fairly simple work on my end—neutralize the crew and the landing party, while Alto and his people handled the administrative side of things. I could have haggled, but I couldn't be bothered. Besides, I had no idea where to sell the thing, how to move it, or where to get it appraised. Half the price was perfectly reasonable under the circumstances.
I handed Karray over to Cordelia, told everyone to stay behind me and a little off to the side so that, if anything happened, a stray blaster bolt wouldn't hit them, and quickly headed toward the enemy. As long as they knew what to look for, they wouldn't lose track of me; to everyone else, all of us were hidden by the concealment spells.
This time, things were even simpler than the first. No need to pick and choose: everyone there was an enemy. And when I saw the mix of bandits, my enthusiasm reached new heights. Variety! A variety of sentients! I counted at least four different species among the raiders. There were about thirty-five sentients inside the transport, and another four were searching the buildings of the small settlement. Lucky me. Heh-heh-heh.
Today I'd be testing a new construct and conducting an experiment at the same time. Its core was a complex analytical module designed to gather information about the test subjects' minds. "Assembling" it took around twenty minutes. I wasn't worried about the others: Jabiimites were no strangers to getting soaked in the rain, and they were dressed for it.
Once the main construct was ready, I used "Sense Life" and "Search for Intelligence" to keep track of the enemies and loaded every target with influence and information-gathering modules. I activated the spell complex... The first effects began to show among the humans. Yawning, sluggishness, calm and peaceful expressions gradually settling over their faces. The others weren't far behind, though. Next came the humanoid creatures with strange tentacles on their heads, and then the rest followed.
From time to time, pockets of resistance flared up when the sentients realized something was wrong and tried to shake off the drowsiness, slap themselves awake, or say something over the radio, but the intelligent construct simply increased the pressure. Their anxiety faded, giving way to apathy and indifference. Less than forty minutes later, every marked target was sleeping soundly wherever they happened to have settled down. I was especially pleased by one crew member who had returned to the starship and left the entrance open behind him. And besides a sleeping Gozanti ready for the taking, I now had a data package containing information on the properties of the targets' minds. I transferred a copy from the construct into a little glass trinket—it would hold for a couple of days, and by then I'd find somewhere more suitable to store it.
It all ended rather boringly. The general called in his troops, who quickly flew in from the forest on their flying boots, disarmed everyone, stripped them down to their underwear, and tied them up. According to Cordelia, the ship really had been modified for use by slavers, and there were eighteen sentients in the hold who had already been captured somewhere else. They were all asleep, and when they woke up, they would already be in the firm clutches of Security. Some of the captured raiders had been promised to me for experiments and soul capture, while Cordelia had decided to keep the rest in custody for the time being. The slaves would be released after they had been checked.
"It was all somehow... too easy," Alto said, standing beside me.
"Pfft, it only seems easy to you! Three hundred years ago, I wouldn't have been able to pull off a spell like that! I simply wouldn't have had the knowledge. You can't even imagine how much time it took just to gather the information needed to begin developing it. And how many years the work itself took!!! As one old sorcerer used to say: 'The only thing that's easy is scratching your ass.'"
Cordelia laughed beside me. I really ought to translate Rung's Reflections for her sometime—there was plenty of that sort of thing in there. I think I even had an uncensored version somewhere, copied directly from the original.
"Siith," the general said, drawing my attention. "You look very... sinister right now. And tell me, is what your animal is doing normal?"
Quartermaster was sitting on the face of one of the sleeping raiders, intently... taking a dump right in his eye.
"He's establishing dominance over the enemy. Crushing him morally and asserting himself," I explained with complete composure, shifting my gaze to the captured property. Someday, I'd fly off in something like that to explore the mysteries of this universe.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
"At least I got everything done," I rasped in a voice that barely sounded like my own. Sitting up, I grabbed the mug of caf from the bedside table.
"Master, I would like to point out that such a daily routine is harmful to your health. Humans require seven to nine hours of sleep," my new property chimed in. I merely waved him off as I headed for the bathroom, casting a simple healing spell on myself along the way. A sentient nag of a golem. If someone had told me about such a thing, I wouldn't have believed them.
Before the teenagers started breakfast, I sat down at the table and delighted them with the news about kitchen duty. I saw no enthusiasm on their faces, and the boys even came out with something along the lines of, "We're men; women are supposed to do the cooking." I ignored their words and did full justice to the excellent food. But once everyone had eaten, I asked whether they had enjoyed it. Remarkable unanimity, I snorted to myself as I listened to them sing the praises of our kitchen magician's cooking.
"There are ten of us here already, kids, and there's only one Maria. Cooking for a horde this size is hard work. Now, if you're fine with tasty food turning into slop, then I suppose we can do without kitchen duty..." I gave my future apprentices an ironic look as they started chiming in from all sides that they'd "help, fine, whatever." There we go. That's more like it.
After that, things really got moving. The teachers wouldn't start coming to the house for another few days, so I gathered all five of them in the attic. While giving them an introductory lecture—explaining the possibilities of sorcery, the basics, and the various paths they could pursue—I was also putting together some more advanced toys for Karray.
It was amusing to watch the children sneak glances at the wood flowing from one shape into another. I had added a few extra effects during the enchanting as well, so the little animal figures would flare with webs of runes one moment and multicolored lights the next. Children needed to see the beauty of magic so they wouldn't lose interest during the first couple of months of dull theory and meditation. I even found myself slipping into a kind of peaceful state. It felt as though I had taken a break from constant work—work I loved, but which was difficult and exhausting. Maybe having to put my own projects aside for a while wasn't such a bad thing after all?
"Mr. Siith," one of the boys, Dan, cut in. "You said that spellcasters are divided into mages and sorcerers, and that sorcerers can see magic. And you also said that magic is everywhere—an ocean of it. But Karray only saw your things glowing. Why is that?"
"Just call me Siith. Teacher is fine too. I don't like all those sirs and masters. Back to your question: seeing and sensing are things you have to learn as well. Humans are... mm... too material. And the material world is too bright for us—it keeps us from making out the colors of the world of magic. Just as sunlight renders any attempt by the moons to light your path pointless. An untrained sorcerer can easily live the life of an ordinary person and die without ever realizing what they were. But there is one common trait, especially in children: young sorcerers interpret sensations from magic through feelings they already know. For example, a stone saturated with the elemental power of fire will feel 'warm' to them—but not warm to the touch. More like... it somehow feels warm."
The children laughed—all except the sisters. Karray nodded solemnly, as if confirming, Yes, that's exactly right, while her older red-haired sister fell into thought, clearly remembering something.
"Yes, it sounds funny, but I heard something like that myself from one young spellcaster. And then, as children grow older, they train themselves to ignore such 'nonsense.' Though they still tend to get rid of obviously cursed or dangerous things if they're poorly disguised. There was a case, for example, when a young man inherited a mansion and threw out one of the paintings. 'It always frightened and irritated me,' he said. Later it turned out that the damned thing had been feeding on the lives of his relatives. So, something like that. As for why Karray could see my artifacts glowing—that was because they were unnatural and had no concealment spells. Free magic is everywhere. We're used to it, we live in it, and seeing it requires special techniques. Without them, a sorcerer simply experiences the world as more alive, colors as brighter, emotions as stronger... But foreign magic—magic that isn't 'natural,' that has been transformed by a spellcaster's aura—is clearly visible to any sorcerer."
About ten days later, I finally found the right components for the weather-control ritual. Stratus wanted to combine the trial clearing of the clouds with the departure of a couple of ore haulers that were currently waiting for a "window" in the cloud cover, but I talked him out of it. This would be my first attempt in this world—who knew how the weather would behave here, on a sphere?
So there we stood beneath an umbrella-like dome stretched over both us and the patch of ground where the ritual figure was to be drawn. The children were practically devouring Alto with their eyes, while he calmly sipped caf from a special thermos, making me envy him beyond measure—I hadn't thought to bring any from home myself. Cordelia, wearing a sleepy, disgruntled expression, glanced at each of us in turn. She didn't like mornings either. Funny, but in my eyes, that fact outweighed her constant suspiciousness and difficult temperament. So I liked her better for it—especially in the mornings.
Alto, incidentally, had met my apprentices a few days earlier. After we talked in the library, I talked him into putting on a little performance with me. To be honest, I expected another dose of skepticism, but the general surprised me by taking the matter seriously. "This isn't a performance, sorcerer. It's the truth, and it's necessary," were his exact words. Then the two of us went to the sitting room, where Emthree—as I had taken to calling the gole... droid—had gathered the children.
Stratus spoke for no less than ten minutes. He addressed each of them by name and explained how important what they were doing was for Jabiim. He knew that both boys and the military-minded girl had been orphaned in a Trandoshan raid. Choosing his words skillfully, he soon had all three practically pawing at the ground, so eager were they to start producing protective charms for the Nimbus—to save the fighters who would then keep the enemies of their world away from other civilian families. He spoke about the respect and status the young mages would earn once their training was complete. With a smirk, he added that they wouldn't be stingy with credits either, so they wouldn't have to worry about food or comfort, which earned an understanding smile from Taria, the blonde who had a healthy respect for financial security. He told Karray how lucky she was to have such a caring sister in Karina, and promised that he and the entire Nimbus would protect them and make sure no one harmed them.
Talent. I could only marvel inwardly. Alto was an extraordinarily gifted man—in war and in dealing with people alike. Even now, while preparing the site for the magical ritual, I found myself remembering that moment and feeling genuine respect for the general. I could work with people like that.
I leveled out a circle of ground fifteen meters across, dried it, and packed it down. Then I surrounded it with a force barrier to keep the water out and began drawing the patterns. For nearly an hour I moved around the circle, tracing the necessary lines and symbols and placing the components where they needed to be for everything to trigger correctly. After that came the application of the required constructs, designed to launch all the processes in the proper sequence. The final touch was setting the mana reservoirs in place to power the ritual.
According to my preliminary calculations, both the mana supply and the durability of the ritual structure should be enough for two or three hours of operation, and although I knew the ritual well, safety still had to come first.
First, we were a long way from any inhabited settlements, with one exception. There were no civilians there, only a Nimbus garrison. It had been arranged that way in case pirates happened to be waiting in orbit around the planet. I'd overheard Cordelia telling her cousin that "there won't be any problems—the cover story is airtight."
Second, about half a kilometer away, a protected zone had been set up. All the components used in the magical construction had been studied, but they were still new to me, and proper precautions were necessary even if there was only the faintest chance of failure. So I started a ten-minute timer, and all of us climbed into the nearby transport and headed for the designated area.
** Same place. Alto Stratus **
"It's started," the red-eyed sorcerer said with satisfaction, tilting his head back to look at the sky. They stood beneath a transparent dome that protected them from the rain and gusting wind. Around them, drawn on the dry, level ground, was a figure that Siith had described as "protective circuits, just in case."
The sky erupted in a succession of brilliant lightning flashes, and a second later the surrounding air filled with peals of thunder. They sounded like an artillery barrage. The noise was so powerful he could feel it vibrating through his insides. The clouds churning overhead began to move. They hadn't been still before, of course, but now there was a strange sense of order to their motion. Cordelia, standing beside him, said something, but over the fury of the elements her voice was impossible to make out. Judging by her expression, though, his cousin was swearing again.
A few minutes later, it was already easy to make out the clouds overhead gathering speed as they moved in a circle. Lightning flashed without end, and thunder rolled continuously, bringing on a mild headache and, at the same time, a strange sense of childlike delight. Glancing at the children, the general was surprised to see little Karray sitting on the shoulders of a terrifyingly grinning Siith, happily chattering away to him, every now and then looking up at the sky in delight and waving her arms excitedly. Apparently, the sorcerer had somehow muffled the cannonade of the storm for the two of them, because they were clearly able to talk without any trouble.
Alto was not an especially trusting man. Politics quickly cured a man of excessive openness and of trusting every stranger he met... Though the latter was hardly a good trait even for ordinary people. Despite that, the general considered himself an honest man. Honest and fair.
That was exactly why, back at that transit point, he had decided not to send his people to handle the conversation, but to meet the strange visitor to Jabiim personally and thank him. After all, the man really had helped the people of that settlement. He had done what the Nimbus could not have done in time. And when Alto entered the medical station, he saw the stranger treating his fellow Jabiimites. There was no showy politeness or concern, and yet not a single patient even cried out during the healing. In halting phrases, the red-eyed man gave them instructions and asked for caf. Alert and, it seemed, satisfied with the work he had done, he showed no sign of nervousness or doubt. To be completely honest, though, their conversation had been shaped not only by the general's gratitude, but also by the power the sorcerer had demonstrated: killing the entire lizard landing force at once was a very good reason to be polite to a sentient.
At first, Alto thought the Temple had finally sent a Jedi to help. Well, at least now, flashed through his mind. For centuries, Jabiim had cried out for help, begged for it, demanded it! And in return there had been either silence or some bureaucratic: "We will certainly look into your problem." The general ground his teeth, remembering the fury those little bureaucratic notes had sent him into every time he read them.
Then came the misunderstanding, and the visitor was taken for a Sith. The enemies of the Jedi Order had been wiped out nearly a thousand years ago, and Alto had only ever taken a passing interest in them. Terrible, horrible, evil, wicked things, according to the Order of the "Republic's defenders," they were little more than a bogeyman and a swear word. At the time he had thought: To hell with what they say. This Sith helped my people. He deserves a chance. I need to watch him, see what he's really like. Maybe everything they say about his kind is just propaganda. History is written by the victors, and the Sith were the losing side.
A risk, yes. But the red-eyed man had earned a measure of trust.
In the end, the sorcerer turned out to be... who the hell even knew what. Everything he told them inspired doubt and suspicion, but he only smiled that unsettling smile of his and said outright that doubt was a good thing. He didn't like working with gullible idiots, so he would demonstrate everything himself.
And he did.
He had been demonstrating his abilities even before that conversation—making little bone trinkets that provided excellent protection against blasters, healing people, and using magic that let vehicles cross the mud of their homeworld as if they were driving on a smooth road...
And now the sorcerer was demonstrating his skill again, Alto thought as he watched a patch of clear sky appear at the center of the rotating disk of clouds. The small cloudless opening grew wider and wider, like the opening iris of an airlock door.
"The doors to space..." the general whispered, not even trying to hide his smile. Soon he would see the sun and a clear sky. For a Jabiimite, that was a genuine joy. And he would do everything in his power to make sure his people felt only that joy, not the fear that bandit landing ships might come plunging down from the cloudless sky.
The sorcerer had not lied to him once so far. Of course, that still wasn't enough to trust him blindly, but Stratus was a man of honor. If Siith truly helped his world, the general would do everything he could to repay him. The main thing was that it must not come at his homeland's expense.
Half an hour later, the rain had stopped, and the clouds were circling in a ring around a vast expanse of clear sky. Sunlight gently warmed the smiling people below.
But their smiles didn't last long.
A rapidly growing speck appeared in the clear sky.
"General," the sorcerer said, drawing his attention as he pointed at the sky and at a... remarkably detailed hologram hovering above his palm. "That's it."
"A Gozanti," Cordelia clicked her tongue beside him. "Cargo hold's probably been modified for hauling slaves."
Alto frowned, running through the options in his head, while Siith bared his teeth in a frightening grin and asked an unexpected question.
"Is that thing expensive?"
"A hundred and fifty thousand credits for a new one," Alto answered automatically. "They've only recently hit the market..."
"One hundred and fifty thousand sounds excellent! Not as good as two hundred, but better than one hundred," the red-eyed man muttered, rubbing his hands together. A little animal's face poked out from the collar of his robe, sniffing the air excitedly with its funny little nose and letting out funny little squeaks. Siith gently scratched the creature under the jaw and smiled. "Yes, yes, Quartermaster. Smells like profit. I want to take a look at that flying coffin... Right, I suggest we head back to our people. As soon as that Gozanti lands, I'll shut down the ritual, and then this baby isn't getting away from us... General, if your radios have the range, order your troops to hide in the forest. No point risking them right now. I'll show you how I used to hunt bandits back home. Heh-heh-heh..."
Sitting in the passenger compartment and looking out the window at the rain once again pouring from the gloomy sky, I whistled a tune I had heard from my beloved long, long ago. I managed to convince both Stratuses after all. Oddly enough, Cordelia backed me almost immediately, and after her, Alto let himself be talked into it as well. Our wheeled steed had been covered with all the necessary concealment spells, which immediately drew questions from both cousins.
After a short drive, we climbed out into the fresh air and took cover behind a small grove not far from where the flying coffin was coming down. On the way, I'd arranged for them to let me inspect the prize and pay me half its value once it had been appraised. Fairly simple work on my end—neutralize the crew and the landing party, while Alto and his people handled the administrative side of things. I could have haggled, but I couldn't be bothered. Besides, I had no idea where to sell the thing, how to move it, or where to get it appraised. Half the price was perfectly reasonable under the circumstances.
I handed Karray over to Cordelia, told everyone to stay behind me and a little off to the side so that, if anything happened, a stray blaster bolt wouldn't hit them, and quickly headed toward the enemy. As long as they knew what to look for, they wouldn't lose track of me; to everyone else, all of us were hidden by the concealment spells.
This time, things were even simpler than the first. No need to pick and choose: everyone there was an enemy. And when I saw the mix of bandits, my enthusiasm reached new heights. Variety! A variety of sentients! I counted at least four different species among the raiders. There were about thirty-five sentients inside the transport, and another four were searching the buildings of the small settlement. Lucky me. Heh-heh-heh.
Today I'd be testing a new construct and conducting an experiment at the same time. Its core was a complex analytical module designed to gather information about the test subjects' minds. "Assembling" it took around twenty minutes. I wasn't worried about the others: Jabiimites were no strangers to getting soaked in the rain, and they were dressed for it.
Once the main construct was ready, I used "Sense Life" and "Search for Intelligence" to keep track of the enemies and loaded every target with influence and information-gathering modules. I activated the spell complex... The first effects began to show among the humans. Yawning, sluggishness, calm and peaceful expressions gradually settling over their faces. The others weren't far behind, though. Next came the humanoid creatures with strange tentacles on their heads, and then the rest followed.
From time to time, pockets of resistance flared up when the sentients realized something was wrong and tried to shake off the drowsiness, slap themselves awake, or say something over the radio, but the intelligent construct simply increased the pressure. Their anxiety faded, giving way to apathy and indifference. Less than forty minutes later, every marked target was sleeping soundly wherever they happened to have settled down. I was especially pleased by one crew member who had returned to the starship and left the entrance open behind him. And besides a sleeping Gozanti ready for the taking, I now had a data package containing information on the properties of the targets' minds. I transferred a copy from the construct into a little glass trinket—it would hold for a couple of days, and by then I'd find somewhere more suitable to store it.
It all ended rather boringly. The general called in his troops, who quickly flew in from the forest on their flying boots, disarmed everyone, stripped them down to their underwear, and tied them up. According to Cordelia, the ship really had been modified for use by slavers, and there were eighteen sentients in the hold who had already been captured somewhere else. They were all asleep, and when they woke up, they would already be in the firm clutches of Security. Some of the captured raiders had been promised to me for experiments and soul capture, while Cordelia had decided to keep the rest in custody for the time being. The slaves would be released after they had been checked.
"It was all somehow... too easy," Alto said, standing beside me.
"Pfft, it only seems easy to you! Three hundred years ago, I wouldn't have been able to pull off a spell like that! I simply wouldn't have had the knowledge. You can't even imagine how much time it took just to gather the information needed to begin developing it. And how many years the work itself took!!! As one old sorcerer used to say: 'The only thing that's easy is scratching your ass.'"
Cordelia laughed beside me. I really ought to translate Rung's Reflections for her sometime—there was plenty of that sort of thing in there. I think I even had an uncensored version somewhere, copied directly from the original.
"Siith," the general said, drawing my attention. "You look very... sinister right now. And tell me, is what your animal is doing normal?"
Quartermaster was sitting on the face of one of the sleeping raiders, intently... taking a dump right in his eye.
"He's establishing dominance over the enemy. Crushing him morally and asserting himself," I explained with complete composure, shifting my gaze to the captured property. Someday, I'd fly off in something like that to explore the mysteries of this universe.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
readsalot
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Can't wait to see him explore the galaxy and uncover the mysteries of magic… I mean the Force
Chapter 13
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Boroda Orka
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"What is evil? Demons? Undead? Vampires? Women? Pfft. Grafters—that's True Evil! Those spawn of darkness will bleed you dry in such a way that you'll still walk away pleased you managed to hand your hard-earned money over to the monster."
© Rung, sorcerer of the Age of Heroes.
The days blurred together into a kaleidoscope of events, and strangely enough, it didn't bother me. Apparently, I'd grown a little tired of solitude during my seclusion. At least I felt no urge to ride off into the sunset, nor any need to sic Quartermaster on someone. Only Emthree was getting on my nerves—a real droid granny.
Pedantic, grumbling, argumentative, and annoying. Useful, though, yes. He didn't care about the faces I made when I was interrupted, my frightening smiles, or my grumbling. He even ignored my threats. "Master, it's lunchtime. Finish your work after you've eaten." "Master, it's time to go to bed. The efficiency of organics declines when they don't get enough sleep." He also brought me caf and various brews, and he was simply excellent at reminders. So despite the occasional urge to turn him into a pile of scrap metal, I restrained myself and was even a little grateful. The usefulness of the tin can outweighed the irritation he caused. And even that irritation was... mm... not exactly serious.
It was the fourth month of training—both mine and the children's. Once I had dealt with the urgent matters, I got my hands on a piece of local technology for storing and studying information: a datapad. An amazing little thing, with an enormous number of functions. We had something similar back home, but if I was being fair, the craftsmen of this universe had left my world far behind. You could argue in our defense that there were vastly more of them, but those were just excuses. What I had in my hands was a device whose size and functionality simply blew every equivalent from my world out of the water. And the ability to connect to a "global network" was altogether beyond good and evil.
At my request, that datapad was loaded with study materials: books and instructional films. An enormous amount of information, the sheer scale of which filled me with horror at the thought of how much work it would take to master it all—and with delight for exactly the same reason. Cordelia also remarked, with obvious displeasure, that there was even more to be found beyond Jabiim. Many species had more advanced educational programs, all kinds of schools and academies where they taught practically anything one could dream of!!! Magnificent! Something to strive for!
So every waking hour was packed to the brim. I even managed to corner the kids' teachers from time to time—some things needed explaining even despite the full power of my intellect. Not that I couldn't have figured them out myself, of course. This was simply faster.
Part of my time went into studying this universe: social interactions, history, moral norms—which varied wildly from world to world—and simply everyday life. It was necessary if I wanted to avoid awkward situations. Otherwise, I might offer Cordelia a cup of caf one day and find out I'd just proposed marriage... No, no, no. I'm far too young to get married!
I also spent a lot of time filling Alto's orders for the Nimbus. My apprentices were already on the verge of being able to churn out protective charms; all they needed was a little more practice, and then I could move their training on toward serious work with artifacts. As for me, I enchanted part of the Nimbus ground fleet, integrating artifacts into the vehicles that projected "Taash's Tread" and could operate for a week without recharging. I also created ten "charging stations" that allowed energy to be gathered into reservoirs more quickly, using artificially grown crystals supplied by Stratus as the reservoirs.
Some things had to be explained to the general as well: the difference between a reservoir and a mana pump, how drawing mana from the surrounding world differed from generating energy from captured souls, and the specifics of how each method worked and was used.
That day, I combined the children's lesson with my explanations for Alto and gathered everyone together.
In short, mana could be gathered into a reservoir. You created a special artifact construct—or sometimes a ritual one, if it was meant for a single use—that pumped energy into the reservoir. In principle, it was all fairly simple, with one catch: size. The larger the construct, the "thicker" the flow, and accordingly, the faster the reservoir filled.
A simple amulet that repels animals, like the ones a friend of mine used to provide for the kids at an orphanage, made sense to supplement with a small module of this kind—a modest reservoir paired with a very low-cost effect. Just leave it on a shelf overnight, and by morning the amulet's reservoir would be full.
But that wouldn't work with my adaptive-protection amulet, nor with the robe or the knife. Their energy consumption was simply too high. And that was where three other methods came in: charging reservoirs with a soul prison, "manual" charging by pouring a spellcaster's reserve directly into the reservoir, and charging them with a large artifact mana pump. The amulet had no reservoirs of its own, so without a soul-battery it simply wouldn't work. The robe was the opposite case—I hadn't been able to implement a mana converter based on a soul vault because it conflicted with some of the enchantments already laid on it.
For the vehicles, I set up reservoir charging using the third method. You take the crystal out of the artifact in the all-terrain vehicle, slot it into the mana pump—which looks like a fifteen-meter disk—wait two or three hours, and you can "refuel" the next one. I planned to handle all enchanted equipment along the same lines. Making spellcasters work full-time as glorified fuel pumps was a lousy idea, while souls came with the inconvenient necessity of producing corpses. A charging station, on the other hand, doesn't ask to be fed—just keep slotting crystals into it and take it easy.
That approach wouldn't work with charms, though, because they were single-use. They had no reservoirs; the mana reserve was poured directly into the material itself, and once that reserve was exhausted, the object broke down. Quick, cheap, and protective—but only once.
Artifact-making was a vast subject in its own right. Take reservoir crystals alone: stability, energy capacity, how both depended on quality and size. I could have talked about it for hours, but for now neither the children nor Alto needed that level of detail. I was only beginning to compile a table of characteristics for the new materials. A pity I still hadn't found anything better than Crystal Dragon bones. Though... I was getting spoiled, of course. The only way to make a better reservoir would be from crystallized blood or tears of the Gods. Hecate had supplied me with magnificent materials for artifact-making that would last a very long time... or enough for something truly enormous, like a floating fortress. Though with that much, I could probably build a floating city instead. I'd only finished charging the robe from my own reserves a week ago—the amount of energy it held was unimaginable.
In the end, Alto agreed that charging stations with mana pumps and reservoirs in the vehicles were the best solution, and we began putting the system into practice along the most troublesome patrol routes—places where the distances were simply too great and the troops sometimes couldn't get there in time. The charging-station components were manufactured to my designs and shipped to the mansion disassembled. There, right in the courtyard beneath an umbrella-dome, I enchanted them, and the finished kit was then sent off to whichever base needed it. There was no need for me to go along—the assembled construction activated automatically the moment a reservoir was inserted into its socket.
Fortunately, the Stratuses had taken my request for a "roomier" place to work and live seriously. In a week, we would be moving our work to a formerly abandoned industrial complex, now restored after falling into decline and shutting down a couple of decades ago. It had truly enormous spaces—the kind I needed for working on oversized components. It also had a spacious, modern classroom by Jabiim's standards for the children, a room for them to relax in, and space set aside for an enormous library... which, of course, I would also have to fill. Sigh... sigh... sigh...
Later on, a residential building would be constructed on the grounds of the complex as well, but for now we'd have to commute back and forth. Fortunately, the trip took less than an hour, and we had our own transport now.
Some time ago, Alto, Cordelia, and I had sat down together and discussed where on Jabiim my efforts were needed. There were quite a few such areas. The transport alone, which ideally needed to be upgraded all across the planet, already amounted to several months of daily work. The artifact complexes for weather control were simpler—one for each major city, of which there were five on the planet. One was already nearly finished. As for the hovering boats, so far there was only a design for a twelve-person craft—the size of a single Nimbus squad. We hadn't started production yet. And then there were the smaller things—amulets and charms, which for now I was churning out right in the middle of the lectures I gave the children.
Besides that, the Stratuses were very interested in the prospects of magical and technomagical ore processing, but during our discussion we put that project off for the future. As I understood it, the two of them were currently having problems with the powers that be. Well... "problems" might be putting it a bit strongly.
Trouble brewing, yes. No matter how carefully they hid our activities, no matter how thoroughly they kept me out of sight, a word here, a word there... and the rumors started spreading, each more astonishing than the last. As a result, the aristocracy had begun quietly making inquiries. For now, they were doing it lazily and without much enthusiasm, but that was how these things started.
I remembered the conversation the three of us had in the library yesterday. Over the past few months, we had started talking like that fairly often. Mostly with Cordelia, since she visited us more frequently. But Alto had also begun joining our improvised little get-togethers from time to time. In fact, it was through those conversations that I had come to understand the situation on Jabiim—and in the Republic as a whole—much better. Nothing unusual. Just plain, simple corruption, understandable to any sentient. I honestly didn't know of a sentient society that was immune to it.
The Stratuses had very little love for the moneybags sitting at the top of the planet's power structure. They made little effort to hide the fact that they were lining their pockets, paying kickbacks to corrupt Republic officials, running all sorts of schemes... As far as I was concerned, they were even within their rights to a point. The land with the mines belonged to them, almost all the transports belonged to them, the industry... well, you get the idea. They weren't called the aristocracy for nothing. In practice, they were the owners of the planet. On the other hand, they were frankly shitty owners. Stupid and greedy. A prudent owner doesn't just get richer—he invests in his holdings so he can get even richer!!! The plebs will always be dissatisfied, of course, but here it was a question of scale. And the scale was such that all Jabiim needed was a leader, and the flames of revolution would erupt. The constant bleeding of the population by pirates and slavers, poor medicine, endless shortages of practically everything—even locally produced goods—an appalling standard of living for ordinary people, and brutal working conditions. It had all been piling up for years, while the problems only grew worse: with every generation, the "aristocracy" thought less and less about Jabiim, taking everything for granted, and more and more about their own purses.
"I don't understand, Alto. Why are you sitting there kneading your tits?" I finally snapped during yesterday's conversation, after he complained about yet another cut to the budget allocated to his troops.
"Excuse me?" The general clearly had no idea what I meant and looked at me in surprise over the rim of his cup, while Cordelia merely shook her head disapprovingly. Pfft... She was hardly shy about colorful language herself, and now suddenly she was the guardian of public morals.
"Why don't you just cut their throats?" I let my irritation show on my face. "The Republic clearly doesn't give a shit about any of this. You told me yourself that during that... brain-liquefying epidemic, they didn't even send you any aid. And that epidemic threatened to reduce the amount of goods you supplied to the Republic and cut the taxes flowing into its coffers."
The girl sitting with us put on a stern expression and had already drawn breath to speak, but I gestured for her to let me finish.
"Yes, yes, Cordelia, I can see how outraged you are. People were dying, and I'm talking about money. But you're thinking about it the wrong way. That's exactly how the bureaucrats in the Senate think: the money keeps coming in—everything's fine. It stops coming in—sadness, disaster, tragedy. Stage a Night of the Long Knives, gut the aristocracy, and put people from your own little club into the positions that matter."
It was amusing to watch one cousin bristle with outrage while the other kept his face completely impassive. Only his sharp eyes showed that he was listening closely... and I saw no rejection of my words in them.
"It's simple. Keep paying the taxes and replace the crews on the ore haulers. Restrict traders' access to the Jabiimites... Quarantine, all that. Invent some nasty but nonlethal disease... Testicular liquefaction? How does that sound? Anyway, you hardly need me to teach you how to do this. That's it. With our weather, news of the coup won't reach the Republic's capital for another ten years. And by then it'll be too late to do anything about it."
Cordelia was outraged, while Alto chuckled quietly. That laugh brought a faint, knowing smile to my face, while the general's cousin practically choked on her emotions. She wasn't exactly a little girl anymore, yet idealism was practically pouring out of her. Though... something about it felt off. Forced, somehow... unnatural.
"I hear you, Siith." He shot a quick glance at his cousin, and she immediately relaxed back into her chair, no longer searching for something to say. She only glared darkly at both of us. "So, as I understand it, a development like that doesn't exactly... shock you?"
"Pfft. The only reason the regime hasn't changed yet is because of you and the Nimbus—things on the planet have started getting a little better. I have eyes to see and ears to hear." And a whole pile of eavesdropping spells that faithfully supplied me with plenty of information, but they didn't need to know about those. Though they had probably figured that much out themselves. "There's only one question now: when are you going to decide to spill some blood? And if you mean the mass killing of those in power and how I feel about that, I honestly don't give a damn. Six hundred years is plenty of time to stop fainting at the words 'political assassination' and squealing like a virgin in a hayloft."
"Is it really that obvious?" Stratus smiled calmly. Cordelia, meanwhile, stopped playing the offended innocent and let the mask of outrage drop from her face. Her expression turned serious and attentive. The general had decided to stop playing games.
"Experience." I shrugged, taking a sip of the hot, fragrant drink. "I wasn't always a recluse, and magic wasn't the only thing that interested me in life. Youth, you know... all that."
"Ancient sage," Cordelia snorted sarcastically. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, she allowed the corners of her mouth to curl into a faint mocking smile.
"Age matters not. What matters is who you feel yourself to be. Young I am. At heart."
The girl rolled her eyes toward the ceiling—she found it incredibly irritating whenever I slipped back into my original way of speaking. And yes, I knew that. Heh-heh. But she reacted so emotionally that I simply couldn't help myself.
"Since you think a change of power is inevitable and the idea doesn't exactly... bother you..." The general fell silent, gathering his thoughts, while I gave an ironic snort. Here it comes. I'm about to get an offer I have absolutely no intention of refusing. "Maybe you could help us with that?"
"I'll help. To be frank, General, there's something I need. We make a deal, and an epidemic begins." Cordelia and Alto frowned at the same time; epidemics were not exactly fondly remembered on Jabiim. I, meanwhile, was already smiling in the finest tradition of cheerful malefics—merrily and with anticipation. "It'll be fast and relatively mild, with very few deaths. And those deaths, by some strange, mysterious, utterly incredible coincidence, will occur only among your political opponents. The only thing I'll need is something that was once part of each of them. Hair, blood, a nail clipping—anything except urine, feces, or saliva. You could even disguise it as routine medical testing. They feel unwell, go to a doctor, and during the examination a vial of blood somehow finds its way to me. How does that sound? You won't even need to go pew-pew."
"How long have you been planning this?" Surprise and suspicion were written all over Cordelia's face.
"While I was on my way here from that transit point, after Alto and I first met a few months ago. The soldiers didn't say all that much, nor did the people in the settlement, but anyone who knows how to listen can pick up on certain nuances. When people love their general and their rulers... not so much, this is usually where things end up. I don't much like getting involved in politics, but right now I... need some gratitude, yes."
"And what do you need? I'm telling you right now, no sacrificing babies or anything li—"
I burst out laughing. We'd known each other for nearly half a year by now, and they were still projecting all those Jedi horror stories onto me. Though, to be fair, my appearance might have had something to do with that.
"Libraries, Alto. Just libraries dedicated to my patroness. Large ones—truly large ones. In every city. With paper books and electronic archives. And each will have a section devoted to the Mistress of Magic. That section will contain only 'religious' literature, insofar as that term even applies to Hecate's cult: mostly philosophical works and reflections on the value of knowledge. No magical manuals, so you won't have to worry about 'wild mages' appearing."
"That... could be done. But why?"
"The more believers she has, the stronger the Goddess becomes. The more seekers who come there in search of knowledge, the more power she will gain. And I'll get some 'goodies' out of it." I smiled openly, but when I saw the lack of understanding on the Stratuses' faces, I decided to explain, while thinking that this must have been exactly how Ir'rina felt when she explained that word to me. That slight annoyance when people didn't understand you. "It means I'll earn Hecate's favor, and perhaps something more tangible as well."
"And what's the catch?" Cordelia's suspiciousness was... almost endearing by this point.
"None. I swear by Hecate's pantaloons!" I jokingly raised one hand in the gesture of taking an oath. And then realized I had... uh... screwed up a little, as my beloved used to say. Yeah. Back in my own world, there was practically no chance of attracting the Wisest One's attention with a joke like that, but here... while sitting in her only shrine... Ahem. I may have been a little too quick with the jokes. I realized that at the same moment a book smacked me in the back of the head. Straight through all my defenses.
Ow...
"Sss... Ow!!!"
"If he gets smacked over the head one more time, I'm signing up as a believer," Cordelia laughed delightedly, while I tried to dodge another projectile flying straight at my forehead.
Unsuccessfully.
"Ow, all right, I get it, I get it!!! Stop hitting me!!!" I shouted in exasperation, rubbing my forehead as I gave the general's cousin a reproachful look. "Can't even make a joke anymore. And what's with all this bloodthirstiness toward me, anyway?"
"You've got an infuriating grin, my brother in faith!" Cordelia bared her teeth at me happily. "And seriously, sorcerer, have you lost your mind, swearing by a woman's underwear?!"
And at the very edge of hearing, I caught an offended word spoken in an enchanting female voice.
That word was:
"Boor."
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
© Rung, sorcerer of the Age of Heroes.
The days blurred together into a kaleidoscope of events, and strangely enough, it didn't bother me. Apparently, I'd grown a little tired of solitude during my seclusion. At least I felt no urge to ride off into the sunset, nor any need to sic Quartermaster on someone. Only Emthree was getting on my nerves—a real droid granny.
Pedantic, grumbling, argumentative, and annoying. Useful, though, yes. He didn't care about the faces I made when I was interrupted, my frightening smiles, or my grumbling. He even ignored my threats. "Master, it's lunchtime. Finish your work after you've eaten." "Master, it's time to go to bed. The efficiency of organics declines when they don't get enough sleep." He also brought me caf and various brews, and he was simply excellent at reminders. So despite the occasional urge to turn him into a pile of scrap metal, I restrained myself and was even a little grateful. The usefulness of the tin can outweighed the irritation he caused. And even that irritation was... mm... not exactly serious.
It was the fourth month of training—both mine and the children's. Once I had dealt with the urgent matters, I got my hands on a piece of local technology for storing and studying information: a datapad. An amazing little thing, with an enormous number of functions. We had something similar back home, but if I was being fair, the craftsmen of this universe had left my world far behind. You could argue in our defense that there were vastly more of them, but those were just excuses. What I had in my hands was a device whose size and functionality simply blew every equivalent from my world out of the water. And the ability to connect to a "global network" was altogether beyond good and evil.
At my request, that datapad was loaded with study materials: books and instructional films. An enormous amount of information, the sheer scale of which filled me with horror at the thought of how much work it would take to master it all—and with delight for exactly the same reason. Cordelia also remarked, with obvious displeasure, that there was even more to be found beyond Jabiim. Many species had more advanced educational programs, all kinds of schools and academies where they taught practically anything one could dream of!!! Magnificent! Something to strive for!
So every waking hour was packed to the brim. I even managed to corner the kids' teachers from time to time—some things needed explaining even despite the full power of my intellect. Not that I couldn't have figured them out myself, of course. This was simply faster.
Part of my time went into studying this universe: social interactions, history, moral norms—which varied wildly from world to world—and simply everyday life. It was necessary if I wanted to avoid awkward situations. Otherwise, I might offer Cordelia a cup of caf one day and find out I'd just proposed marriage... No, no, no. I'm far too young to get married!
I also spent a lot of time filling Alto's orders for the Nimbus. My apprentices were already on the verge of being able to churn out protective charms; all they needed was a little more practice, and then I could move their training on toward serious work with artifacts. As for me, I enchanted part of the Nimbus ground fleet, integrating artifacts into the vehicles that projected "Taash's Tread" and could operate for a week without recharging. I also created ten "charging stations" that allowed energy to be gathered into reservoirs more quickly, using artificially grown crystals supplied by Stratus as the reservoirs.
Some things had to be explained to the general as well: the difference between a reservoir and a mana pump, how drawing mana from the surrounding world differed from generating energy from captured souls, and the specifics of how each method worked and was used.
That day, I combined the children's lesson with my explanations for Alto and gathered everyone together.
In short, mana could be gathered into a reservoir. You created a special artifact construct—or sometimes a ritual one, if it was meant for a single use—that pumped energy into the reservoir. In principle, it was all fairly simple, with one catch: size. The larger the construct, the "thicker" the flow, and accordingly, the faster the reservoir filled.
A simple amulet that repels animals, like the ones a friend of mine used to provide for the kids at an orphanage, made sense to supplement with a small module of this kind—a modest reservoir paired with a very low-cost effect. Just leave it on a shelf overnight, and by morning the amulet's reservoir would be full.
But that wouldn't work with my adaptive-protection amulet, nor with the robe or the knife. Their energy consumption was simply too high. And that was where three other methods came in: charging reservoirs with a soul prison, "manual" charging by pouring a spellcaster's reserve directly into the reservoir, and charging them with a large artifact mana pump. The amulet had no reservoirs of its own, so without a soul-battery it simply wouldn't work. The robe was the opposite case—I hadn't been able to implement a mana converter based on a soul vault because it conflicted with some of the enchantments already laid on it.
For the vehicles, I set up reservoir charging using the third method. You take the crystal out of the artifact in the all-terrain vehicle, slot it into the mana pump—which looks like a fifteen-meter disk—wait two or three hours, and you can "refuel" the next one. I planned to handle all enchanted equipment along the same lines. Making spellcasters work full-time as glorified fuel pumps was a lousy idea, while souls came with the inconvenient necessity of producing corpses. A charging station, on the other hand, doesn't ask to be fed—just keep slotting crystals into it and take it easy.
That approach wouldn't work with charms, though, because they were single-use. They had no reservoirs; the mana reserve was poured directly into the material itself, and once that reserve was exhausted, the object broke down. Quick, cheap, and protective—but only once.
Artifact-making was a vast subject in its own right. Take reservoir crystals alone: stability, energy capacity, how both depended on quality and size. I could have talked about it for hours, but for now neither the children nor Alto needed that level of detail. I was only beginning to compile a table of characteristics for the new materials. A pity I still hadn't found anything better than Crystal Dragon bones. Though... I was getting spoiled, of course. The only way to make a better reservoir would be from crystallized blood or tears of the Gods. Hecate had supplied me with magnificent materials for artifact-making that would last a very long time... or enough for something truly enormous, like a floating fortress. Though with that much, I could probably build a floating city instead. I'd only finished charging the robe from my own reserves a week ago—the amount of energy it held was unimaginable.
In the end, Alto agreed that charging stations with mana pumps and reservoirs in the vehicles were the best solution, and we began putting the system into practice along the most troublesome patrol routes—places where the distances were simply too great and the troops sometimes couldn't get there in time. The charging-station components were manufactured to my designs and shipped to the mansion disassembled. There, right in the courtyard beneath an umbrella-dome, I enchanted them, and the finished kit was then sent off to whichever base needed it. There was no need for me to go along—the assembled construction activated automatically the moment a reservoir was inserted into its socket.
Fortunately, the Stratuses had taken my request for a "roomier" place to work and live seriously. In a week, we would be moving our work to a formerly abandoned industrial complex, now restored after falling into decline and shutting down a couple of decades ago. It had truly enormous spaces—the kind I needed for working on oversized components. It also had a spacious, modern classroom by Jabiim's standards for the children, a room for them to relax in, and space set aside for an enormous library... which, of course, I would also have to fill. Sigh... sigh... sigh...
Later on, a residential building would be constructed on the grounds of the complex as well, but for now we'd have to commute back and forth. Fortunately, the trip took less than an hour, and we had our own transport now.
Some time ago, Alto, Cordelia, and I had sat down together and discussed where on Jabiim my efforts were needed. There were quite a few such areas. The transport alone, which ideally needed to be upgraded all across the planet, already amounted to several months of daily work. The artifact complexes for weather control were simpler—one for each major city, of which there were five on the planet. One was already nearly finished. As for the hovering boats, so far there was only a design for a twelve-person craft—the size of a single Nimbus squad. We hadn't started production yet. And then there were the smaller things—amulets and charms, which for now I was churning out right in the middle of the lectures I gave the children.
Besides that, the Stratuses were very interested in the prospects of magical and technomagical ore processing, but during our discussion we put that project off for the future. As I understood it, the two of them were currently having problems with the powers that be. Well... "problems" might be putting it a bit strongly.
Trouble brewing, yes. No matter how carefully they hid our activities, no matter how thoroughly they kept me out of sight, a word here, a word there... and the rumors started spreading, each more astonishing than the last. As a result, the aristocracy had begun quietly making inquiries. For now, they were doing it lazily and without much enthusiasm, but that was how these things started.
I remembered the conversation the three of us had in the library yesterday. Over the past few months, we had started talking like that fairly often. Mostly with Cordelia, since she visited us more frequently. But Alto had also begun joining our improvised little get-togethers from time to time. In fact, it was through those conversations that I had come to understand the situation on Jabiim—and in the Republic as a whole—much better. Nothing unusual. Just plain, simple corruption, understandable to any sentient. I honestly didn't know of a sentient society that was immune to it.
The Stratuses had very little love for the moneybags sitting at the top of the planet's power structure. They made little effort to hide the fact that they were lining their pockets, paying kickbacks to corrupt Republic officials, running all sorts of schemes... As far as I was concerned, they were even within their rights to a point. The land with the mines belonged to them, almost all the transports belonged to them, the industry... well, you get the idea. They weren't called the aristocracy for nothing. In practice, they were the owners of the planet. On the other hand, they were frankly shitty owners. Stupid and greedy. A prudent owner doesn't just get richer—he invests in his holdings so he can get even richer!!! The plebs will always be dissatisfied, of course, but here it was a question of scale. And the scale was such that all Jabiim needed was a leader, and the flames of revolution would erupt. The constant bleeding of the population by pirates and slavers, poor medicine, endless shortages of practically everything—even locally produced goods—an appalling standard of living for ordinary people, and brutal working conditions. It had all been piling up for years, while the problems only grew worse: with every generation, the "aristocracy" thought less and less about Jabiim, taking everything for granted, and more and more about their own purses.
"I don't understand, Alto. Why are you sitting there kneading your tits?" I finally snapped during yesterday's conversation, after he complained about yet another cut to the budget allocated to his troops.
"Excuse me?" The general clearly had no idea what I meant and looked at me in surprise over the rim of his cup, while Cordelia merely shook her head disapprovingly. Pfft... She was hardly shy about colorful language herself, and now suddenly she was the guardian of public morals.
"Why don't you just cut their throats?" I let my irritation show on my face. "The Republic clearly doesn't give a shit about any of this. You told me yourself that during that... brain-liquefying epidemic, they didn't even send you any aid. And that epidemic threatened to reduce the amount of goods you supplied to the Republic and cut the taxes flowing into its coffers."
The girl sitting with us put on a stern expression and had already drawn breath to speak, but I gestured for her to let me finish.
"Yes, yes, Cordelia, I can see how outraged you are. People were dying, and I'm talking about money. But you're thinking about it the wrong way. That's exactly how the bureaucrats in the Senate think: the money keeps coming in—everything's fine. It stops coming in—sadness, disaster, tragedy. Stage a Night of the Long Knives, gut the aristocracy, and put people from your own little club into the positions that matter."
It was amusing to watch one cousin bristle with outrage while the other kept his face completely impassive. Only his sharp eyes showed that he was listening closely... and I saw no rejection of my words in them.
"It's simple. Keep paying the taxes and replace the crews on the ore haulers. Restrict traders' access to the Jabiimites... Quarantine, all that. Invent some nasty but nonlethal disease... Testicular liquefaction? How does that sound? Anyway, you hardly need me to teach you how to do this. That's it. With our weather, news of the coup won't reach the Republic's capital for another ten years. And by then it'll be too late to do anything about it."
Cordelia was outraged, while Alto chuckled quietly. That laugh brought a faint, knowing smile to my face, while the general's cousin practically choked on her emotions. She wasn't exactly a little girl anymore, yet idealism was practically pouring out of her. Though... something about it felt off. Forced, somehow... unnatural.
"I hear you, Siith." He shot a quick glance at his cousin, and she immediately relaxed back into her chair, no longer searching for something to say. She only glared darkly at both of us. "So, as I understand it, a development like that doesn't exactly... shock you?"
"Pfft. The only reason the regime hasn't changed yet is because of you and the Nimbus—things on the planet have started getting a little better. I have eyes to see and ears to hear." And a whole pile of eavesdropping spells that faithfully supplied me with plenty of information, but they didn't need to know about those. Though they had probably figured that much out themselves. "There's only one question now: when are you going to decide to spill some blood? And if you mean the mass killing of those in power and how I feel about that, I honestly don't give a damn. Six hundred years is plenty of time to stop fainting at the words 'political assassination' and squealing like a virgin in a hayloft."
"Is it really that obvious?" Stratus smiled calmly. Cordelia, meanwhile, stopped playing the offended innocent and let the mask of outrage drop from her face. Her expression turned serious and attentive. The general had decided to stop playing games.
"Experience." I shrugged, taking a sip of the hot, fragrant drink. "I wasn't always a recluse, and magic wasn't the only thing that interested me in life. Youth, you know... all that."
"Ancient sage," Cordelia snorted sarcastically. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, she allowed the corners of her mouth to curl into a faint mocking smile.
"Age matters not. What matters is who you feel yourself to be. Young I am. At heart."
The girl rolled her eyes toward the ceiling—she found it incredibly irritating whenever I slipped back into my original way of speaking. And yes, I knew that. Heh-heh. But she reacted so emotionally that I simply couldn't help myself.
"Since you think a change of power is inevitable and the idea doesn't exactly... bother you..." The general fell silent, gathering his thoughts, while I gave an ironic snort. Here it comes. I'm about to get an offer I have absolutely no intention of refusing. "Maybe you could help us with that?"
"I'll help. To be frank, General, there's something I need. We make a deal, and an epidemic begins." Cordelia and Alto frowned at the same time; epidemics were not exactly fondly remembered on Jabiim. I, meanwhile, was already smiling in the finest tradition of cheerful malefics—merrily and with anticipation. "It'll be fast and relatively mild, with very few deaths. And those deaths, by some strange, mysterious, utterly incredible coincidence, will occur only among your political opponents. The only thing I'll need is something that was once part of each of them. Hair, blood, a nail clipping—anything except urine, feces, or saliva. You could even disguise it as routine medical testing. They feel unwell, go to a doctor, and during the examination a vial of blood somehow finds its way to me. How does that sound? You won't even need to go pew-pew."
"How long have you been planning this?" Surprise and suspicion were written all over Cordelia's face.
"While I was on my way here from that transit point, after Alto and I first met a few months ago. The soldiers didn't say all that much, nor did the people in the settlement, but anyone who knows how to listen can pick up on certain nuances. When people love their general and their rulers... not so much, this is usually where things end up. I don't much like getting involved in politics, but right now I... need some gratitude, yes."
"And what do you need? I'm telling you right now, no sacrificing babies or anything li—"
I burst out laughing. We'd known each other for nearly half a year by now, and they were still projecting all those Jedi horror stories onto me. Though, to be fair, my appearance might have had something to do with that.
"Libraries, Alto. Just libraries dedicated to my patroness. Large ones—truly large ones. In every city. With paper books and electronic archives. And each will have a section devoted to the Mistress of Magic. That section will contain only 'religious' literature, insofar as that term even applies to Hecate's cult: mostly philosophical works and reflections on the value of knowledge. No magical manuals, so you won't have to worry about 'wild mages' appearing."
"That... could be done. But why?"
"The more believers she has, the stronger the Goddess becomes. The more seekers who come there in search of knowledge, the more power she will gain. And I'll get some 'goodies' out of it." I smiled openly, but when I saw the lack of understanding on the Stratuses' faces, I decided to explain, while thinking that this must have been exactly how Ir'rina felt when she explained that word to me. That slight annoyance when people didn't understand you. "It means I'll earn Hecate's favor, and perhaps something more tangible as well."
"And what's the catch?" Cordelia's suspiciousness was... almost endearing by this point.
"None. I swear by Hecate's pantaloons!" I jokingly raised one hand in the gesture of taking an oath. And then realized I had... uh... screwed up a little, as my beloved used to say. Yeah. Back in my own world, there was practically no chance of attracting the Wisest One's attention with a joke like that, but here... while sitting in her only shrine... Ahem. I may have been a little too quick with the jokes. I realized that at the same moment a book smacked me in the back of the head. Straight through all my defenses.
Ow...
"Sss... Ow!!!"
"If he gets smacked over the head one more time, I'm signing up as a believer," Cordelia laughed delightedly, while I tried to dodge another projectile flying straight at my forehead.
Unsuccessfully.
"Ow, all right, I get it, I get it!!! Stop hitting me!!!" I shouted in exasperation, rubbing my forehead as I gave the general's cousin a reproachful look. "Can't even make a joke anymore. And what's with all this bloodthirstiness toward me, anyway?"
"You've got an infuriating grin, my brother in faith!" Cordelia bared her teeth at me happily. "And seriously, sorcerer, have you lost your mind, swearing by a woman's underwear?!"
And at the very edge of hearing, I caught an offended word spoken in an enchanting female voice.
That word was:
"Boor."
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
Last edited:
readsalot
Experienced.
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Treangulator
Not too sore, are you?
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Me thinks the better choice would be "kneading".
Like "kneading dough".
Also yeah, pantaloons? Oh Siith, who told you that's the goddess choice of underwear? What do you even understand in female fashion besides of how to take it off?
Last edited:
Boroda Orka
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Me thinks the better choice would be "kneading".
Like "kneading dough".
Thanks for pointing that out. It really does sound much better this way