CoJ: Chapters 38 through 45 (end of first half project)

[JasonPratt]

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SECTION FOUR -- COMPLICATIONS
Chapter 38: Shapes Of History

___I look forward thirty years and more, beloved.
___Beneath a summer sky, a caravan carefully wends its way, curving gently around green hills, northward.
___Every night its leader, Khase Sage, consulted maps; some as old as he, others far more ancient, a couple drawn more recently by scouts or curious locals hewing their livelihood here along the edge of the dangerous Middlelands. He also wrote, comparing notes from earlier travels, grading and compiling sources. When a work had satisfied him, he would pen it in his Chronicle. Along with Khase acolytes traveled: quick riding, lightly armed, these young men and women made their copies of his work and carried finished entries back along the trail, to any near Orthogoni; returning once again, to serve their master.
___Eventually, the caravan arrived: entering in between tall ridges of a certain tree-filled valley. Khase, standing in this southern gap, looked north: higher ridges clasped the valley east and west; snowcapped mountains crowned it to the north.
___The sage could barely sleep that night. Another bit of data, for the sake of his completeness, lay within a walking reach.
___A beaten trail led through the southern pass...and here, a site of some brigade's encampment: rusted metal fragments and some charcoaled pits attested this.
___The aging man strode northward through the trees. Yes, he saw, honey trees grew thickly in this area, and showed the scars of tapping long ago for syrupy sap. A wide stream flowed, down and north nearby.
___It ended in a lake.
___The caravan commander walked up next to Khase Sage, and whistled in commiseration.
___"Sorry, Exemplar. We came out all this way, 'n' everything looked all right. But, I suppose it's a bust."
___"Not true, Commander!" Khase's voice rang piercing bright, very fitted for a lecture hall. He stood with fists upon his hips, and smiled in satisfaction. "I expected this precisely!"
___"But...this here's a lake!"
___"Yes; and the maps all told us we would find a lake, did they not?"
___"Well...yeah, I guess they did. It's just...I thought...It's not a lake in th' stories!"
___"Yet the Journal and the Testimony clearly indicate that it had been a lake!—one that Qarfax probably renovated for himself."
___"Oh. I s'ppose they do say that, now that I think about it...But, why would it be a lake again?"
___"Send your men to bring our skiff from its wagon, good Commander, and together we may find the answer."
___"Hm." He gave the order to a yeoman. "I thought you might be usin' that to, I dunno, go down a river or somethin'. Guess I didn't put th' pieces t'gether." The senior officer paced back up the nearby river edge while waiting. Khase joined him.
___"What do you see?" asked the sage, teasing with an edge of expectation.
___The soldier snapped his fingers. "Th' lake is backin' up the river, from th' water pressure. There's dead grass under th' water here!"
___"Very good eye, Commander Trent! And so this also tells us—what?"
___"Th' stream was once a lot less wide—b'cause it used to drain out fast! It 
wasn't bein' backed up by th' lake."
___"Exactly."
___"Although," Trent mused, "I woulda thought th' grass'd be long gone by now."
___"As usual, Commander, your good eye has found a detail of importance," Khase sincerely said; though also with amusement in his own eyes at his joke. "Yet the grass is dead. So, when did the lake fill up?"
___"Over years. It reached its current level years ago, backin' up th' river then, but not b'fore."
___"Which means, there have been changes in the water level, fitting with a significant incline beginning here along the present water's edge."
___Trent whistled once again. "But...the books do say the lake was here originally, 'fore Qarfax came...assumin' this here is th' spot."
___"Good man!" Khase laughed. "Best to not assume ahead of verifying. That is why we brought the skiff! Go on," he urged his friend.
___"So, why's there grass here now? I mean, back then? Qarfax woulda found th' river here when he arrived to build his tower, right?"
___"Very, very good," agreed the sage. "Observe these rocks and ledges: they smoothly fit the river's shape, and so they must have been eroded by it—which takes time. Yet the river only recently became this wide, as shown by this dead grass beneath the water, as you found. When Qarfax made his changes to the lake, he would have left a muddy swath behind: you're quite correct. But!—grass grows faster on rich mud, than it decays within a fishless river!"
___Trent scratched his head. "'s gone by me, Exemplar...Though yer right about the fish. There ain't no minnows, even."
___"You did quite well, Commander. I myself had not considered how important dead grass underwater here would be for validation."
___The soldier nodded at this compliment. Minutes later, other troops arrived and quickly got the small boat ready for deployment.
___"Come along, Commander!" Khase hopped into the skiff. "Let us find the answer to your mystery!" Trent gauged by eye the sage's fitness—the other man was twenty years his senior—but after all, the skiff could only hold two men. Trent decided he could row, if the sage became exhausted; and besides, he wondered what the sage was hinting they would find.
___"I am glad the water is so clear," said Khase as they smoothly skimmed across the surface.
___"Even so, I sure can't say that I'm seeing much, Exemplar."
___"Not surprising," grunted Khase as he rowed. "The Emerald Army probably left some traces of their camp, but I doubt that we could see those traces from this height above the dell—sloping deeper down below us, if we have located Qarfax Valley."
___"Then what're we doin' here, Exem...?" Trent's voice trailed away.
___"Eh?" Khase shipped his oar. The officer had also ceased to row, and now was peering down into the lake with his good eye. "Tell me what you see, Commander," Khase grinned.
___"A floggin' massive pile o' rocks..." the soldier's voice was hushed in awe. He looked around to ascertain where it was lying underneath them. "I...I 
hadn't thought it out, I guess..."
___"It can be somewhat difficult, to keep in mind the implications of the story: how the pieces fit together. Even sages have that problem; which is why we go to look." Khase mopped his brow while carefully leaning above his own skiff-side. "There should be, not a tower, but the ruins of a tower, under the middle of a lake, which until recently was not a lake, yet once had been a lake before! And, here we are."
___While Khase studied all the shapes below, Commander Trent looked up from deep-drowned stones, to all directions round: the lake, the distant wooded ridges, the northern mountaintops—he saw the mouths of two more rivers pouring through the trees.
___And he knew—he simply knew—that even though he couldn't see it, there would be an eastern river. He could reason out exactly where to look, and didn't doubt that he would find it.
___But, he would go look; to consummate his reasoning. And he knew how he would feel when he had found it:
___Like a sage.
___Like a child.

___"It's like...like bein' in a legend," whispered Trent. "Like I could touch it. Like it's touchin' me."
___"Legends are our history, Commander. Legends touch us every waking hour, and within our dreams as well. That is why we should respect them—and remember them," Khase added, with a gentle criticism.
___"Rotten blood..." Trent felt a tear rolling down his face.
___For several minutes they stared into the water, with an oar-push on occasion to ensure a better view.
___"It's kinda like we're flyin' over history...or somethin'. Here we are; perched up in th' sky—'cause back in that day this'd've been the sky—lookin' down on where those people fought an' died, an' where those monsters almost killed 'em all. And Jian's down there, just a speck beside those things...but he's laughin' at 'em anyway, not carin' they were gonna bury him—'cause he was busy doin' what he always did, for her..."
___"Thank you, Commander."
___Trent looked up, suspecting mockery: but—Khase Sage Exemplar bowed to him most seriously. "That is how I should have been considering the remnants we are floating far above. Instead—I am ashamed: for I was only feeling bitter that I cannot go myself to see." He sighed, and looked again. And then he smiled. "I believe I almost see Commander Seifas down there, too..."
___"When yer ready, Exemplar, let's pull on over to th' eastern lakeside."
___"A capital idea! I wish to seek for something there, for validation!"
___"Th' river mouth, perhaps?"
___"I hadn't thought of that; but, you are right, that also would be worth the trip. No, Commander Trent; I was thinking: if we have located Qarfax Valley, we also should discover some significant remains of fallen timber in the southeast quarter. And the final river mouth should be just north of that direction, too! Shall we look?"
___"At once, Exemplar!"
___Off they struck, across the lake again.
___"You should be a Sage, Commander Trent! I see you have an eye for it!"
___The one-eyed soldier laughed, at the joke and at the expectation of another link with history, of being touched by legends.
___"Too old to start that now; but, I b'lieve I'll tag along with you awhile!"


Skip JRP commentary and go to next chapter

[JasonPratt]

Notes from the real author...

So begins the fourth and almost longest Section of chapters in CoJ, "Complications". (The final Section is slightly longer, much of it being dedicated to the Macro-Fight Sequence.  8-) Which by the way starts about halfway through the Section after this one, just for relative referencing.)

While I don't do much with Khase Sage compared to the other characters, he serves some important foreshadowing functions, as well as giving the Preface Author clues about how minor characters in the story regard the events going on around them. Not that the PA needs Khase Sage or any other author exactly, as for reasons I haven't revealed he can scan spacetime thoroughly and even mentally with some limitations. Thus embodying what authors call "limited narrative omniscience" by the way. But as he noted in his Preface he's respecting their history by using their own historical sources as much as possible; and Khase represents respect for history himself.

I'll admit I only started plotting out Khase's narrative (and backstory) once I began working on Book 2; until then I was making him up as I went along, and giving him things to do in foreshadowing main plot points. Here at the start of Section Four, I realized we hadn't seen anything of Khase since his brief introduction, and I wanted to foreshadow some things that would happen later, so I took a little break from the main narrative to bring him back in and give him a "Watson" to work along with. But then, as I suspected I might, I had a lot of fun writing Khase (and Trent) in his investigations: back when I was a little boy, being an archaeological investigator (and someone who studied stories) was what I wanted to do when I grew up! :) (I already mentioned, back in the commentary for his introductory chapter, that Khase is the only character named after me, right? :D Jason = Chase = Khase.)

By now I had long since worked out the shape of how the rest of the book was going to go (although many details still remained to be invented and filled in), so I never had to go back and adjust Khase's discoveries here much--just some minor tweaking about how he puts details together when I thought the logic didn't quite add up right yet.

If I recall correctly this is the last time we'll see Khase in the first half of the book; but he has a highly emotional and meaningful set of chapters later in the second half when interviewing minor characters about the big fight coming up. Tears seriously used to run down my face when I read those chapters for the first several years after I composed them; I still today can't read those chapters without tearing up a little. Naturally I'm sentimental about my own novel, so I don't expect other people to necessarily have the same emotional reactions. ;) But I'm glad that I've been able to give Khase colorful things to do and to discover in each book so far. He may technically be a disposable character--the story doesn't rely on him anywhere--but in a way that gives me more leeway to enjoy writing him.

No doubt he'd be the very first casualty of a film adaptation, and for good reasons. But he should be a tough if necessary sacrifice to make for sake of production and running time.

(The Preface Author would no doubt be the very next casualty, but he's vastly more important to the overarching storyline. Just not directly to the first several books worth of story, so as long as producers committed to filming only the first three or six books, leaving him out wouldn't be a problem.)

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 39: The Grass

___"Now, explain again why you would think that someone's coming back?"
___Portunista tried to sigh between her gulps of air. But she couldn't fault her 'cowherd' subcommander's gentle sarcasm: after flinging on her still-moist clothes and hurtling down the stairs, she had careened into their midst as they were sitting round the firepit looking bored...and then had only had the breath to say that someone else had been here and was planning to return.
___"The grass," she panted. Jolting from an idle joy into the shock of revelation, plus a dash downstairs—all of this was making her feel ninny-headed. Moreover, she had left them all down here with hardly anything to do, while she had been—
___"The grass...?" said Othon, prompting her.
___"The grass..." she said between her breaths, "is green..."
___"The quitchgrass?" This was Jian, arriving more sedately on the landing down the hall behind her. Portunista nodded.
___"Well," Gaekwar drawled, "they say the grass is always greener on the other side..." She snapped a glare around at Gaekwar's smirk; he arched his eyebrows, darting glances clearly aimed at her and Jian.
___"You didn't seem to care about the grass last night when we were clearing out these rooms, Commander." Dagon scowled like thunderclouds above a cliff. "I guess you've had a closer look since then!"
___Exhaling in exasperation, Portunista slammed a nearby door, and plunged into its room.
___Jian ambled up the hall; then he casually leaned against a wall with folded arms, and smiled lopsidedly:
___"Punkie losers need not apply."
___Dagon ground his teeth, and clutched the pommel of his sword. "You little scratworm-colored—"
___"One thrust. One parry. No clang," Othon rumbled. "Twice."
___Dagon froze.
___The fair man seemed relaxed—but his hand also rested on his pommel...

___screeching—!
___—everyone jumped—

___Except for Jian.
___"I wouldn't make her angry," Jian advised. The screeching stopped, then started over, mixed with muttered curses.
___Portunista scrabbled backward from the room, bent over low...
___...to drag a frame of quitchgrass, in a scrape along the floor.

___She flung a hand triumphantly:
___"The grass...is GREEN!"

___"Yes, I must agree with you, Commander," Gaekwar soberly nodded. "The grass is green. So?"
___"Hmm..." Pooralay contemplated this and stroked his chin...
___—then his eyelids snapped in shock. "Oh, spew...!"

___Seeing this on someone else's face was worth her efforts, Portunista thought.
___The understanding dawned in Seifas, too: "They all look green and healthy."
___"Every one," she nodded. "Anyone who had been paying attention last night would remember it now at least," she added, glaring at the Krygian.
___He wasn't impressed. "So what?!"
___"How long for quitch to wither without water in the dark?" asked Portunista pointedly.
___"Uh...." Gaekwar blinked.
___"A week." Othon now was catching on.
___"Or seven days at most," agreed the juacuar.
___"The quitchgrass should be dead, slopings ago; but it isn't," Portunista said. "How long ago was it replaced?"
___"Only five to seven days," Seifas nodded.
___"How many days have you been here?" Portunista turned to Pooralay.
___"Three. Then yest'rday, and then this mornin' makes a week—more 'r less. Just b'fore I got here. Blind m' eyes...!" Then, "Wait a minute..." he muttered, and tapped his finger on his knee while he considered other implications.
___"No one else is here," continued Portunista. "Why would they replace the quitch in sixteen rooms and then depart—unless they were expecting to return?! So, when can we expect them back?"
___"Within a day or two!" Jian was sounding quite impressed. "Perhaps today!"
___"Exactly," Portunista said. "No point to cut new sod at all, unless you plan to use it—probably sooner than later, hm?"
___"We are inside a Cadrist Tower, though," Dagon said. "What if Qarfax jotted something on the grass, or scribed some sigils in the frame, or something?"
___Portunista started to reply...but then she closed her mouth again.
___Berating herself, she shut her eyes, and chuffed an Yrthescrution.
___She slowly shook her head a minute later. "No, there's nothing there that I can find," she told them, and then she shook her head more quickly as she flushed away materia from beneath her eyelids. "I admit, a jotting may still be there—but, should we risk that someone didn't cut the sod?"
___"It was a good idea, however," Jian sincerely said to Dagon; who looked surly at the compliment.
___"So!—we can anticipate these people back at any time," the maga moved along. "What else can we infer from all of this?"
___"There's sixteen beds of 'em, at least; maybe more if there's some couples." Gaekwar couldn't help but smile.
___Portunista wasn't amused. "Maybe more if they're a brigade. They make their preparations, then they leave, and yet they don't go check the unlocked room upstairs. Or if they did, they didn't touch a thing. Did any of you notice any looting?"
___"I sure didn't!" answered Jian, helpfully.
___The maga winced; still she added, "Me neither," a little forcefully, "and I had lots of time to look around this morning and last night." That wasn't true, exactly, but it made her point. "They didn't even take Qarfax's rings from his remains."
___"The pile looked just the way I left it, after slopings," Seifas verified.
___"And yet they're coming back. Back with who?" Portunista asked, knowing they would know.
___"A mage," Othon said; the maga nodded.
___"Or with magi," added Jian.
___Portunista blinked—she hadn't thought of that... "At any rate, with someone else to further search the Tower—someone who could benefit from taking certain risks, or who would want to see the situation fresh and undisturbed. And that's a mage—or magi."
___"And at least as many troops again," said Dagon sourly. "I doubt they left their mage-or-magi all alone, out in the wild, while they prepared some beds. No—there must be several times as many yet again, or else they might as well have all come here at once! And, after all the fighting in the Cadre—well, like Portunista's saying: if we're up against a mage, then we'll be facing a brigade." This earned some nods from everyone; except from Pooralay, who added:
___"An' they're comin' from th' west, across th' ridge." The others stared at this announcement. "Hey," he shrugged, "I know I wouldn't miss a buncha chunks cut outta sod, out in th' woods. There ain't no grass—or chunks—like that, out in th' dell where we can see; an' I checked round th' treeline first when I arriv'd."
___"I didn't even have the time to do a treeline search." Seifas said this with a pointedness at Portunista.
___"Well, there wasn't any ev-i-dence along th' line," the thug continued. "An' I wasn't in a hurry to go pokin' in th' Tower, specially not without some signs of what was goin' on inside. So I was quarterin' up th' valley ev'ry day: first th' north, 'cause that was where I meant t' sleep...I mean instead of down in th' tent. Nothin'. Checked th' eastern side th' next day; nothin'. I was checkin' south when yous showed up, although I'd made a faster run-through when I got here. An' I know yous drew a blank as well, c'rrect?"
___"Only where I wandered east and west across our path into the valley—and that wasn't far," the juacuar reminded him.
___"That don't matter," Poo insisted. "Now we're talkin' about a comp'ny at th' least an' maybe a brigade, on th' march, an' not too far away already, 'cause their scouts intended to get back t' them and then t' lead th' whole group to th' Tower in a week, week-an'-a-half. Travel time, y'see: back 'n forth. Not five-t'-seven days away. Th' scouts were gonna meet 'em three days out! Y' only got here yest'rday y'rselves; an' I know y're smarter than to only have a jaguar scoutin' for y'r whole brigade along y'r march. Did any of y'r scouts see anything? Nah," he said, "or this all wouldn't be a hairin'-out surprise. They gotta be comin' from th' west."
___"Tough." Othon stood among his blinking peers, and walked to lift the quitch-frame in the air. It took some effort.
___It took Othon some real effort!
___"Tough," he said again, and thumped it down.
___"You mean that they were strong enough to carry those things all the way from where they cut them, back into the Tower," Jian inferred. "Hm?" he noticed quizzical looks. "There isn't any dirt in here, upon the floor," he told the others absently. "Those quitch beds have some solid slats beneath them, so they wouldn't dribble dirt as much as fresh-cut sod."
___"Point," the thug agreed. "An' no such trail o' crumblies in th' dell. They couldn't altogether hide th' cuts...I'm expectin' that we find 'em west...but they sure ain't dumb completely."
___"I would call 'em dumb!" the 'cowherd' said. "Or else they're frightened of their boss. That, or they're fanatics. It'd be a chilly day in hell before I lugged a bunch of sod in wooden boxes through a forest, 'cross a dell, and up those stairs! Just in case you're thinkin' along those lines, Commander," Gaekwar grinned.
___She rolled her eyes. "Okay," she said. "One of you must go and bring the troops: after everything I've gone through here, I mean to keep this place!" she growled.
___"Wait a moment," Seifas cautioned. "Our brigade controls the southern pass; and even though it would be hard for them to hold against a force attacking from inside the valley, this would be a much worse place for them to make a stand."
___"Unless you're in the Tower," Dagon said. "And then you've got a serious advantage."
___"Sure—if you're a Cadrist in the Tower!" Gaekwar snorted. "But we can't begin to fit the whole brigade in here! And 'ista isn't Qarfax."
___"Still," said Portunista—with a glare; she didn't appreciate being reminded that she wasn't so experienced...besides, she had defeated all those traps...!—"we seem to be in much the same position. If the enemy attacks us, thinking they can take the Tower from a handful of defenders, then our companies could hit them from the sides, along with higher-ground advantage."
___"Assuming," sniffed the Krygian, "that they're dumb enough to never send a scouting screen."
___"Whatever," Portunista sighed. "Let them notice our brigade! They'll be less encouraged to attack us with their fullest strength, and we can hold this place with fewer troops! In any case, we need to put our soldiers on alert."
___"I'll go," the 'cowherd' volunteered, and stood to stretch. "I need a new supply of discs, and even if I thought that blasted door would work again, I'm not about to pull them from a bunch of killer birds."
___"Hey!" Jian took out a silver kran from a pocket on his belt. "Buy me a shirt?"
___Gaekwar winked: "You won't be getting cold at night, I think!"
___Jian shrugged and grinned lopsidedly: "I do have other things to do. A green shirt, please," he added. "I expect I'm through with red for a while."
___"And green won't show up grass-stains easily!" added the lanky subcommander.
___"Gaekwar!" Portunista snapped; he jumped a little at her tone and saw her pointing at him. "You don't leave until I sort the laboratory. You'll be taking what I pack you with, in case we lose the Tower." That evaporated all his smugness...!—she was tired of them discussing her in roundabouts.
___"Now wait a minute! After fooling around all morning—not inside the lab," he added, "now you're saying we might be under attack at any moment! We need—!"
"Nope," she firmly cut him off. "You will stay here one hour, and I'll have you gone by lunch. You," she pointed next to Seifas, neatly squelching Gaekwar's further protests. "You go scout the west; bring Othon, Dagon and the thug."
___"They'll see us coming, if they're close already," grumbled Dagon.
___"Fine—then kill them! Then they'll know that someone's here who means to fight, so maybe they'll slow down and think it over, giving us more time to get our act together. Why are you still here?! Get moving!" she demanded.
___"As you wish, Commander," said the juacuar. The others didn't like it, but they went. Good.
___"Jian!" she turned.
___"Yes, milady?"
___Portunista momentarily lost her voice in irritation: he had promised not to call her "wife" in public, but "milady" wasn't much improvement.
___"Jian!" she said again. "Go do...whatever...something...useful!" What could she order him to do...?
___"At once, Commander!" Briskly saluting, he spun upon his heel and promptly headed down the stairway hall. At least he seemed respectful; she suspected, though, that he was making fun...
___"Gaekwar!" barked the maga, stomping past the 'cowherd'—
___"Coming, Midama."

___She stopped. And turned.
___'Dama' was the title of a leader of an army of brigades.

___But she could see that Gaekwar wasn't mocking her, although he smiled beneath those long stray locks of hair.
___"Be patient," he quietly said, as he passed her with a shoulder-pat. "Whoever may be coming back, he doesn't have our Dama. I bet on us."
___He walked upstairs—leaving her remembering his loyalty the night before...
___...and wondering if she would ever understand a man at all.


Skip JRP commentary and go to next chapter

[JasonPratt]

Notes from the real author...

Back to the main plot!--and this whole Section of chapters, to be honest, is mostly plot development and complications (thus the Section title), not much action. The much-action kicks off later in the next Section, a hundred pages worth (with some occasional breaks to set up shifts in the action and catch some breath).

As I mentioned a couple of chapter commentaries ago, I was finishing up the First Night section of chapters and wondering how to transition the plot over into introducing the real main antagonists for the book (as well as some minor antagonists), but I couldn't entirely concentrate on that because something about the grass kept bothering me in the back of my mind. Suddenly I realized the grass shouldn't have been green after several seasonal slopings without attention in the dark!

This was a deeply annoying plot problem, but while I was floundering around mentally trying to figure out how I could fix it or whether I should just take the grass out and replace it with normal cots (which would have been the easiest and most obvious solution), the character of Portunista practically sat up in my mind and announced, "People have been here! And they're planning to return! That's what the green grass means!!"

And boom just like that I, or rather the corner of my mind devoted to thinking in-character as Portunista, solved an annoying plot hole and bridged an introduction to the crisis of the second half of the book. (At the time I wasn't yet thinking in terms of this being the second half of Book 1's plot, just that it would be the second half of the Tower plotline. After I finished the Macro-Fight Sequence I realized that I had better call it the end of the book and tie up relevant plot threads with some setups for Book 2. Then something similar happened at the end of Book 2, and I had an opening trilogy. ;) But all three books put together would be about the length of a big Stephen King or Tom Clancy or Robert Jordan tome, so I may still omnibus them all as one big book someday.)

Well... not entirely just-like-that. I still had to work out the various plot implications of the established data so far. But that provided another teamwork detective scene, and I found that I didn't have to alter anything previously written--it all added up to usable plot conclusions.

Along the way it became obvious to me that the subcommanders left downstairs all morning would have had sufficient time and motivation to piece together the implications of Jian's weird behavior that morning. So after all her machinations to keep them from thinking she had gone down to Jian, they figured it out anyway (although not how dangerously she was behaving and thinking when she did it, or they'd be more concerned than amused or, for Dagon, annoyed about it). But she plows ahead past that, focusing on the current problem.

Perhaps most importantly, giving Portunista the lead in figuring out the implications of the grass, allowed me to add another factor back to the balance of her character again, and to demonstrate again just why she had been able to develop up and hold onto a small brigade of companies in the first place. She'll be racking up points in her favor through most of the rest of the book, except for two notable failures, one of which happens to come right at the halfway point by wordcount. More on that later when we get to it.

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 40: Eyes

___Sixteen eyes watched Seifas and the others leaving Qarfax Tower, my beloved.
___Four eyes watched from in the western forest edge. The mismatched studded leather armor of the hidden men reflected minds and bodies worn down densely, like old roots: scraggly, dirty...desperate.
___"Flamin' bile. We got squatters," mumbled one.
___"They ain't all outta that there tent, I'm bettin'," said the other. "Must be more nearby."
___"Just venturin' perhaps?"
___"Then why ain't they all camped out on th' dell? B'sides, I don't intend t' stick around an' ask that jaguar!"
___A spit. "A jaguar's just a man, like anyone else; 'n' they c'n die, like anyone else."
___An eyebrow raised. "Them jaguars might be men, but they sure ain't like anyone else! I don't care what y'tell th' others. I was there when all you did was loot a jaguar's body for that axe; an' I was there when he was killed, which you were not. That jaguar company ate up two brigades, like that!" A finger snap. "A floggin' Cadrist had t' kill'em, an' still they kep' him busy enough t' let another Cadrist sneak up close for whackin' him. Biggest bloody mess I ever saw...You wanna fight th' jaguar, you go on. I'm headin' back."
___A snort. "Th' Mad One won't be happy hearin' squatters now're at th' Tower. Person'ly, I'd rather face th' jaguar than th' Mad One."
___"I'd rather face th' Mad One than th' jaguar!" A pause. "We're so complet'ly thumbscrewed...Let's go left. I figure these're scouts for some brigade, an' they'll be campin' south, down near th' pass, more likely'n not. We'll go north around, an' cross th' eastern ridge...get outta th' district altogether."
___"We could go down an' offer to join."
___"An' fight th' Mad One?!"
___"Yeah, good point. Okay, let's go, b'fore they figure out we're here."
___The two men faded deeper back into the forest, angling northward.
___Six eyes also watched from underneath the eastern treeline.
___Four of them belonged to soldiers, better armed and armored than the western scouts. Their cloaks were draped around their well-kept darkly painted armament; their steel was dulled by smoke of fires for damping down the sheen.
___But every edge was buffed, sharp and razor-smooth.
___These two men were watching the dell in confident alertness, ready to strike, ready to wait.
___Yet when they eyed the man between them, wariness replaced their  confidence.
___Artabanus never looked wary.
___His scouts perched, ready to dive into battle; but the gaze of Artabanus struck the land already, conquering it. He carried no weapon, wore no armor. Nor did he need them.
___"One of the Guacu-ara..."
___The scout on his left now wouldn't wager an ohre on the black-skinned man surviving another week.
___"Clearly, he must die," declared Artabanus.
___"A juacuar might be of use," suggested the man on his right. "By all accounts, not many have survived."
___"He is a threat, for he does not serve me," Artabanus replied. "And should he cease to be a threat by his own choice, then he will have betrayed his former masters. I do not keep traitors by my side, especially killers of his caliber." Artabanus flicked his unblinking gaze to the man on his right—who swallowed.
___"Clearly," the scout agreed, "he must die. Shall I slay him myself, Midomo?"
___"If I have commanded, strike him down, though fifty other men may crush your bones beneath their blades. However," he allowed, returning his attention to the dell, "this juacuar survived the deaths of all his corps—and so is not within your capability, I think. I shall slay him, as I choose."
___"But, if you have commanded, I myself shall strike him down," affirmed the scout.
___"The other men you see may die or live to serve me. Any magi with them shall 
be slain at once. There shall not be another Cadre War: I shall reign alone." He didn't 
have to order them to bring him any disciplex or other mage material. They knew.
___"All power shall be mine."
___"All power to Artabanus," they reverently echoed.
___"Now, I will return to camp," the magus told them. "If these we see are from a brigade, they likely shall be camping yonder." And he sparely gestured to his left. "I shall commission other scouts to check. You two stay. One shall report to me if necessary. If you find lone scouts, subdue and bring them to me. We shall discover what is in their hearts and minds, by splitting them open."
___"As you command," they murmured in response.
___He pulled away from their position—a fluid movement, drawing after a breeze that chilled their faces.
___Minutes passed before one man would dare to ask the other:
___"Shall we be seeing a better future? Or a worse?"
___The other man dared not reply the words within his heart. Instead he answered, "I shall live to see the future."
___He answered without hope.

___Another pair of eyes, across the valley in the northwest corner, locked upon the form of Seifas, disregarding any others.
___These two eyes had shadowed the progress of the western brigade; creeping close to hear the talk of scouts, when they had thought that no one else could hear—speech of fear and atrocity.
___The Mad One might be such an opportunity as these eyes were seeking. Then again, the hands below those eyes must still survive to pluck away the rotted fruit: evidently now a spider lived within that shell, attracting souls grown drunk on heady fumes exuding from the ruin of the tree—and poisoning what it hadn't yet devoured.
___A stronger leader might provide a different opportunity, and difficulty, toward the same result. Behind the eyes, a voice had whispered that another leader might arrive from eastward soon.
___Did that leader now wait south, from where the wind was bringing traces of "brigade encamping" to the nose below the eyes?
___A leader with a juacuar.
___Another different opportunity; but, all combined together in the plan now set in motion by the Way of Things.
___Into the wind between the winds, the mind behind the eyes did whisper:
___brother...
___Affirmations came at once; eager to complete the number.
___By addition? Or elimination?
___Any possibility would play into the blue-steel taloned hands.
___A Culling of a sort would be enacted here, uncovering the path into the future.
___Many screams would echo on that path.
___But—there would only be one cry.

___Along the northern treeline, four more eyes watched Seifas, in the distance, as he trotted up the dell.
___A finger pointed, tipped with stubby bone: "One of the olden killers!"
___"An auspicious moment: murderers gather to feast on yonder corpse of stone."
___"From the east and west and south, the clay-hearted come."
___"The Lord of Slaughter shall be pleased, I think."
___"Shall we be pleased to join the feasting? Has he brought us here for this?"
___"One monster shall arise to take possession of the power of the corpse of stone."
___"And shall be stronger after slaying every rival."
___"Yet, as weak at first as having given birth."
___"Then we will strike, and trample down the corpse of stone beneath our hooves, so that no monster shall possess it; and then we may leave these lands of murderers."
___"You see our path correctly, Kambyses. Now, let us tell our tayasi, so they shall know to strike with all our power, pleasing Orgetorix Lord of Slaughter!"
___Barest pause. "I most earnestly pray the Great Lord shall be pleased." A knotted forearm slid across one sharpened tusk, to show this deep sincerity.
___And back into the northern mountain forests drifted both the Ungulata.

___Seifas never saw these things; nor did Portunista; nor did Khase Sage discover them.
___But I have searched them out, beloved—with my power that destroyed them.

___Eighteen eyes watched Seifas and his squad, if my eyes also count. How many other eyes, from high above or deep below, were watching history converging on this valley?
___One other at the least, that I know.

Skip JRP commentary and go to next chapter

[JasonPratt]

Notes from the real author...

So, Portunista was right about a force coming back from the west; but couldn't know yet about the other two sets of troops boxing the compass in! (Nor the lone juacuar villain wandering around the area having shadowed Praxiteles into the area.)

An early editor suggested I should have simplified things a little by taking the Ungulata (i.e. the Mikonese orcs) back out. I could have done that, but I knew I wasn't going to be in range of the Middlelands again for a while and I wanted to get some of the demimen introduced while I had an opportunity. So down they come from the north to add a fourth side to the coming conflict. (Also, their rationale for being there is different from everyone else's.)

While this chapter introduces the competitive factions for the rest of the book, I figured only one leader would likely be in visual scouting range of the tower yet (plus naturally the juacuar), so I'm saving Praxiteles for a proper introduction a little later. The Unks, on the other hand, don't really have one distinct leader, so the scout Kambyses will be their main character for my story.


I don't think we'll be seeing Arty again before the halfway point--he and the other two main antagonists have a couple of important chapters kicking off the second half of the book--so I'll talk a little about him here. While I had basically plotted out the plot and action beats already for the rest of CoJ, I hadn't worked out many details, so with this chapter I started inventing a lot of the color and character of the antagonists.

Artabanus is a realworld name of a Persian military leader accused of treachery, and there's a bit of that in Arty's background, too, although we won't be getting much into that in CoJ. He represents competent but evil Order, one direction that Portunista herself could go in if she doesn't improve her character along with growing in power. Later in the book we'll see that he isn't really much more yet than a jumped-up former apprentice like Portunista, but he thinks of himself more highly. ;) I love writing Arty--except when he's being super-evil, which is naturally uncomfortable--because it's great fun setting up his ego to be progressively punctured!  8-)  He starts as a man full of confidence and assurance and slowly gets that eroded away until he's scrambling desperately. But since he does have lots of real talent, he can regroup, improvise and try again. Plus, his skill set is somewhat different from anyone else's in this book, so I get to play with new toys whenever I'm writing him. :)


I very much like to assign important and/or excessively cool things to minor characters.  :D I hadn't originally intended to bring back the two unnamed scouts on the treeline, and they don't show up again through Book 3, but I was able to give them an awesome scene and a meaningful speech (and contribution to the plot) late in this book.

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 41: The Forest For The Trees (Part 1 of 2)

___"Vellum is heavy," grumbled Gaekwar.
___"So? Walk faster, the sooner to put it down," retorted Portunista.
___Noon had been a difficult hour for the maga. Trying to decide what she should keep at hand or send away, while quickly sorting through the wreck upstairs, had gnawed her temper raw.
___Thankfully, a pentadart did not transfer much heat when striking; consequently books and scrolls deformed beneath the force of impact, rarely being torn unless their pages caught a shallow-angled strike. Ideally, what had been lost could be restored by following the records.
___If she kept the Tower.
___But, she couldn't count on that. She had to save the most she could—and yet she had to keep at hand whatever might be useful in a fight!
___In the end, she packed up any reference to a jott she didn't know and  wouldn't likely have the time to study soon—except for what she found that might involve defenses for the Tower. Those she kept aside, to study.
___Everyone had brought supplies in sacks, including Seifas; small enough to set aside for fights or moving fast, with nothing sorely missed except for traveling food thereby.
___All those sacks had now been packed with books and scrolls.
___"You should've gotten Othon," mumbled Gaekwar as he tottered down the narrow stairs: one of the sacks had been the larger man's!—and now held codices which wouldn't fit inside the others.
___"You volunteered."
___"To go to camp—not to be a packing-ass!"
___Portunista followed him across the 'basement'. Jian was lying on his stomach, his arms stuck down the well and moving in a minor rhythm. She'd find out what that meant in a minute...
___"Gaekwar!" Portunista cut his next complaining short. "The troops should stay in place, until we've got a better notion of what's happening. Make sure they post patrols and guards, double-thick; and have the sergeants keep their squads together, on alert. At any sign of fighting in the dell, the sergeants should advance their squads, attempt to contact one of us, and otherwise engage the flanks of 
enemies—for harrying only, unless they hear from one of us. If our soldiers march, the vendors must withdraw, back through the pass, and wait for a signal: so make sure that they'll stay ready to move. That should keep them out of trouble for a while; they'll also be able to freely flee in case a battle goes too badly. Squads should be assigned to act as scouts for them." She rubbed between her eyes. "I guess that's it. You're free to make whatever other plans seem best within that framework."
___"As you say." He sounded somewhat dubious.
___"I'm trusting you with this. You're the subcommander who can talk with them the best; and they'll do what you command them to."
___He rolled his eyes. "Mooooo..."
___"All right," she smirked. "Go ready the herd, and then return. I need my best men here. And bring my other change of clothes!" Last night's basement dousing couldn't thoroughly clean her shirt and breeches from her sweat and aasvogel blood; and she flatly refused to wear those robes all day.
___"Midama." He shortly bowed, and turned to leave.
___"Bye, Gaekwar," Jian called out, his arms still in the hole. "Remember: green shirt!"
___"Don't get too many grass stains while I'm gone!"
___"Jian!" Portunista called, hands on her hips, turning away from her subcommander as he left the Tower.
___"ah-hm?" he absently answered, still fixated on the well.
___"I told you to do something useful, not...what are you doing?!"
___"Checking something. Care to look? I think you'll find this interesting."
___Curiosity drew her closer.
___Jian, she noticed now, was lying upon the rope, so that it wouldn't slip into the hole. The rope ran back beneath him, coiling briefly on the floor before it rose again back through the hole above.
___Most of the rope must already be below, she inferred; the seating plank as well. She carefully knelt and edged to peer into the pit, confirming her conclusions.
___Beneath the plank a lit torch hung, tightly tied at midpoint balance to the stapled short cord for the water pail. Jian was swinging the plank, and so the torch, back and forth.
___"It's awfully dark down there: this way I can see the different parts...for about a moment at a time," he sighed.
Portunista whistled up some wisps.
___"Oh! Hey, thanks!" Jian smiled. "Of course, we've seen those spindles down there grinding on that band of sigils...more precisely, grinding away at four discreet locations on that continuous band of sigils. Do you have any further notion of what that's all about?"
___"No, not really. It isn't like I've had much time to think about it recently."
___"Well, I have; but I don't know what I'm thinking of." The maga chuckled softly at this somewhat absentminded statement. "Why a continuous band? Why not plates, like on the door upstairs? I'll bet it's making some effect in all directions—like that smaller band down there which generates the tesser. Yet it doesn't seem to be affecting anything within its curve—not the torch and plank; nor us when we were down there. But the spindles are in constant movement. So, perhaps it's generating something outwards. Careful, watch your face." Portunista jumped a little—she had been attending so completely, she had never really noticed he was drawing up the plank while talking to her.
___"But," added Jian, as he doused the torch inside the nearby pail, and started switching out the two below the plank, "the band is way down there below the level of the ground. Whatever those things do, it must be generated down there, too: below the Tower, out in all directions."
___Something tickled Portunista's memory... "Yes, that's right! When I was Yrthescruting yesterday, I sensed an interference—at about that depth."
___Jian arched his eyebrows; Portunista nodded, and began another scrution—but...
___"It isn't any good," she sighed, a minute later. "I can tell that something's there, beneath the dell and centered on the Tower...but I can't make heads or tails of anything else about it!" She flushed out bits of elemental Yrthe from beneath her eyelids.
___"Thanks for trying anyway." Jian shrugged; then brightly added, "I'm betting you can figure it out eventually!" Despite her irritation, Portunista had to smile at Jian's undauntable optimism.
___"Setting that riddle aside..." Jian leaned over the pit again; she followed after. "Look at how those other sets of gears are linking to spindles, leading up through the floor."
___She nodded. "Up behind the walls."
___"Right. Now, come hear this." He swung himself around to stand, dusted off his knees—Portunista smiled again, at his vague and futile swipes to dislodge bits of wood-dust from his curly chest hair, too—and walked to one point on the curving wall. Following, Portunista saw a brass device, shaped like a forking branch, lying on the floor nearby. He picked this up and handed it to her.
___"If you'll put those in your ears, and place the other end on the wall, you'll confirm what we just saw."
___She felt her eyebrows climbing up her forehead, as she heard a whirring clearly through the tube.
___"Where did you get this??"
___"From Pooralay, before he left. I asked him his opinion about the shape of the Tower, so he let me borrow this to test for confirmation. Here, there, there and there," he pointed to different places on the wall, while he approached the door. "I marked the spots with talcum powder. Helps with chafing, too," he winked.
___"So, there are channels in the walls." She ignored his teasing; although she also flushed, to her annoyance. "I mean the...wall? No, the walls."
___"Square outside, round inside," Jian agreed, and knelt at the open door to draw the shape into some dusty ground outside. "Leaving channels in the corners, for machinery, sending force to gears above us in the ceiling space."
___"So?" He had spent an hour doing this?!
___"So—wouldn't you say it's overkill? Four complex, and rather large, machinery columns—for a chairlift! Even with a bucket on the bottom of the plank, it doesn't make much sense. But, come upstairs!" He bounded up the narrow stone extrusions; Portunista followed more sedately. Halfway up, she figured out what he was going to show her...
___"Two long hallways." Jian stood on the landing, pointing as he made the counts. "Four short halls, because they cross each other. Four small rooms per hallway fraction: sixteen rooms altogether. The rooms are all rectangular." Well, true; but that was hardly what she figured he was going to show her!
___"Now, come in here." And into his room he went. Portunista hesitated, trying to make this match what she had thought that he would say.
___"This had better not be some elaborate ploy to get me alone in your room again," she dryly told him, hiding her confusion. "We've already wasted time enough this morning."
___"As I recall," he lightly replied, "you came down to me."
___Portunista gave a gasp. Before she could decide if she should be angry at him—for reminding her? for using this as a retort against her...?!
___—he turned to her, and told her:

___"You will never convince me that we wasted our time this morning."

___now she needed to gasp, but couldn't...
___she opened her mouth to...what? say something? kiss him?
___she waited in expectation to discover what her mouth would do...
___"My wife," he added.

___And she shut her mouth.

___She felt as though he had tricked her somehow. Ignorant, calf-love-struck, naive...!!
___He turned away, leaving her emotions a tangled mess, leaving her mentally cursing...him? Her? Both of them?
___"Behind this wall, you can hear the machinery again..." Did she detect some disappointment in his voice? He'd better get used to that...!
___He paused, and sighed, and looked back toward her; in the dimness, she saw only patient expectation.
___If she hadn't been wearing the sound-tube, hanging from a string around her neck, she would have walked away, leaving him there. She had lost all interest.
___"Although in truth," she would admit years later, "my interest hadn't been lost.
___"I had crushed my interest, to avoid the implications of whatever he might say..."
___But, she still had the tube; and a shred of social propriety urged her to fill the implicit request. So, she set it in her ears again, and walked to put the sensor on the wall.
___"Yes, it's the machinery," she sighed.
___"Loud or soft?"
___"Soft," she answered; then... "No." Her brow furrowed; her nose-tip twisted a little, as she contemplated what she heard.
___She didn't see that Jian was smiling softly on that quirk of hers, like someone watching a sunrise or a waterfall...
___"I think...I think it's just as loud as behind the wall below. And yet it sounds..."
___She glanced at him; but by this time he had hidden his smile. "Finer," he suggested. "That's what it sounds like to me. The machinery is smaller, closer together, doing more things."
___"Doing what?"
___"Don't know," he admitted. "You're the maga, however, so I figured it might help you later. All four corners sound the same," he added as he walked into the hall. "And we aren't just talking about the built-in channels of a circle in a square. Draw it out, and you'll discover these partition walls are closing off significant portions of this floor, at those corners. It can't be more of the same machinery as behind the wall downstairs: that would sound fainter but just as blocky, so to speak."
___"Instead it only sounds...finer. More sophisticated," said Portunista. Jian nodded. "I wonder, why didn't I hear them last night?" she muttered.
___"It'd have to be really quiet to pick them up without the hearing-tube. And later, when it was really quiet—well, you did have other matters on your mind..." Jian reminded her with a grin. Blast his eyes, he was doing it to her again! Every time she seemed to have a grip on herself, he flustered her somehow, leaving her off-balance.
___"I didn't try to explore the laboratory, because I didn't want to distract you," he said in apology, as she followed him up the stairs. Why not? she fumed to herself, you distract me enough already...
___"It does appear, however," he continued, "that the radius of the laboratory is less than can be accounted for by the landing here." And he wistfully sighed, like a boy looking into an armory that he couldn't explore at the moment. "Last!" he clapped his hands together, "but not the least...!" and bounded up the stairs.
___When Portunista reached the upper room—her room—she muffled any thought of it being their room—she found him standing in the middle looking upward with a satisfied smile, hands on his hips.
___Now what? she wondered in irritation. The tour so far, though moderately interesting, had not been exactly helpful.
___Portunista looked up.

___Her jaw sagged down.
___Above them, engraved into every bit of the circular ceiling—
___—was a map.

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 41: The Forest For The Trees (Part 2 of 2)

___"That's...that's...That's a map!"
___"Yes..." Jian answered cautiously. He looked back down to see her staring up incredulously. "It's a map," he slowly agreed, as if perhaps expecting a joke. "Isn't this what you were studying, this morning? Right before you sat up in bed and shouted, has been here'?"
___She snapped her head back down to glare at him, commanding herself to close her jaw. "Of course! It's a map! So?" She attempted to say this casually, as if she'd known all along—but she could tell from Jian's expression that now he 
wasn't buying it. Still, she certainly wouldn't admit that she had spent the-Eye-knew-how-long staring blissfully up at the ceiling without a clue, or a care, of what she was seeing...!
___"Now, as you can see," he continued, trying to keep his amusement down, "the map shows us the valley around the Tower in minute detail, all the way out to the ridges and mountains." The contours suddenly shifted into perspective for Portunista—the engraving was only a slightly different shade than that of the stone of the ceiling, itself abnormally smooth. Jian was walking to where he had pulled a taller chest of drawers over next to one low table. At least, she didn't remember those drawers being in place there earlier.
___Then again, she upbraided herself, who knew what else she had overlooked in this room since arriving last night?!
___"The most interesting thing, however, can only be seen by getting up close to the map," Jian said, carefully checking his furniture placement. "And, may I add by the way, this ceiling is far too low to match the height of the Tower outside? And the machinery in the walls continues up to ceiling level, too." He paused, nodded, then turned back to her with a gesture of invitation.
___Portunista, still cursing herself for being so unperceptive, stomped to the table and pulled herself up onto it.
___"I had to balance myself with a hand on the wall," the fair man warned. "One of the legs of the chest of drawers—"
___"I have excellent balance!" She kept her hand away from the wall, and mounted the chest of drawers.
___It did begin to wobble, as she rose into an ungainly half-crouch; but she threw out her arms without touching the wall, and inched her face to the ceiling. She wished that Jian would just tell her things straight out, instead of making her find out for herself...
___She missed it for the first few moments, concentrating on the extremely fine detailing instead. This engraving must have cost a fortune—
___Then she realized: she wasn't looking at an engraving.
___The surface was flush, as well as smooth.
___She looked even closer.

___Every last detail was part of one, massive...
___"sigil...!" she breathed; or maybe squeaked. She turned and tilted her head to look across the ceiling's surface. "This is a sigiltracing!"
___The awe of trying to fathom such a complexity, blended together along with her inconvenient posture and unusual viewing perspective—
___The chest of drawers wobbled with her increasing disorientation.

___Her balance shifted violently back and forth, her body instinctively seeking to reestablish its center of gravity.
___She waved her arms in all sorts of directions!—she was pitching over—!
___She tried to curse, but all that escaped was an angry "Eep!"

___Jian caught her.
___It wasn't a graceful catch, partly because Portunista was a little taller than Jian, and partly because she had already twisted further over, like a cat, trying to land on her hands and knees.
___Consequently, she bounced off his waiting arms—both of them grunted with the impact—and found herself standing next to him, still braced in mind and body for an impact with the floor.
___"Uh!" she exhaled; then wobbled once again as her muscles unclenched and her center of balance steadied.
___Instinctively, she thrust out her hand, and braced herself on the table—
completing her humiliation.
___"Don't even dare to say 'I told you so,'" she growled.
___"Now, not being a magus, I haven't a single good idea why Qarfax would do this. So," Jian asked, "what do you think?"
___Portunista's disorientation, which she'd begun fighting down, now rose again; and she cursed herself for not being able to let go of the table, yet...
___Then she laughed at herself, silently and bitterly.
___She had expected Jian to say "I told you so" anyway.
___"I don't know," she muttered.
___Jian didn't say anything. He only looked at her with expectant hope.
___"What else do you want me to say?!! " she exploded. "I DON'T KNOW! I don't know why Qarfax did this or that, I don't know what's under the dell, or how tessers work, or how any of his sigils work, and I haven't been able to get a scrution to be worth more than dung the whole time I've been here, and my eyes are getting sore, and I nearly broke my neck just now, and—so just—stop looking at me like I know what I'm doing!!"
___She slumped, back against the table, and glared at the floor, and imagined ripping out his throat if he tried to comfort her.
___She did hear him walking across the floor...but not to her.
___Instead, he clambered onto the bed.
___—did he expect her to just jump up on the bed with him, like he was some sort of medicine for her misery?!
___She raised her glare, ready to curse him.

___He wasn't looking at her.
___He was lying with his head at the foot of the bed, closer to the center of the room, looking up at the map—squinting his eyes, pondering what it could mean.

___She took a few slow breaths. Jian was clever in some things; but he wasn't a magus. He had about as much chance of figuring out the functions of a sigiltracing, as she did of reading whatever was written behind the stars.
___But, he had done what she had wanted for him to do, although she hadn't said it aloud.
___He had left her alone.
___Yet he hadn't given up. He still was trying his best.

___Portunista chewed her bottom lip, and sighed. She really was an idiot...if she didn't try, who else was going to figure it out?!
___Bowing her head again, she closed her eyes, focusing her intent; and began to jott an Yrthescrution. The elemental materia coalesced beneath her eyelids, her eyes seeping tears as they tried to flush the Yrthe. She put the discomfort aside, and sent her intent to the stone of the ceiling above.
___There it was—and there was the tracing, across and within its surface; infused with plenty of Yrthe, as well as other materia. Linked to a whole other room of machinery in the ceiling above them.
___And vastly more complex than she had even begun to imagine.

___Where to begin?
___She didn't have the faintest clue.

___So, she tried to get a simple feel, for its shape in total.
___She tilted her head, deep in thought. How peculiar—now she seemed to be looking down on the valley from high above. The trees and streams and contours all were there; there were the ridges and mountains, too; there was the Tower. But, it wasn't like looking at any map, or even seeing it like a bird.
___It was...like feeling every tree and shape, in detail, all at once. She didn't have to move her focus here or there. All the map, all the sigil, twenty-four paces across or more, seemed to be one point—a point with the strength of a unity.
___Was this...how the Eye beheld the whole world...?

___Something was happening, as if in the corner of her viewing, yet right in the center, too. She couldn't determine what it was—she unconsciously tilted her head in other directions, understanding intuitively she wasn't properly seeing it yet.
___...was the sigil triggering?
___Yes...the scrution itself was activating it, blending with it somehow, completing parts of its circuitry where she hadn't even guessed there were gaps. Whenever she focused too closely on the details, she lost all perception of what the whole was doing.
___So, perhaps she should start with what was happening, rather than trying to start with how.
___On impulse, she sent her scrution in other directions around the room, reaching up from the floor, as the sigil itself was teaching her to reach—seeing the room without seeing it, accepting the whole before trying to figure the details. She wouldn't have had any hope, before, of understanding what she was seeing—because, she knew and would now admit, she lacked some skills and knowledge that must be gathered first in other ways. Experience itself might help, perhaps...?
___She turned her head, her body not guiding but echoing her intentions; not restricting, but responding to what her intentions could achieve.

___She didn't know that she was smiling; immersed within, and radiating, the joy of discovery.
___She wasn't thinking about her self, at all.
___She compared what she was feeling through her scrution, with her memories of sight—letting each inform and complement the other, inferring and learning the meaning of what must be...There was the basin; the tables, wardrobes, dressers, chairs. There was the bed. She could feel where Jian was, on the bed, and even 'see' that he was looking up at the map...

___...trying his best to figure it out.
___Trying his best, to serve her.

___She walked to him, and knelt, and kissed him lightly on the forehead.
___"I'm sorry," she told him. "Thank you for being so patient with me, when I'm in a mood."
___"I suppose," he thoughtfully answered, "that this means the threat will now be ramping up considerably..."

___She would have blinked, except that would have interrupted her scrution.
___"What?" was all she could think of to say. Had she heard him correctly...?!
___"Well," he said, pointing upward—she inferred it from clues in the scrution—"those little glowing dots are clumped together exactly where we left the brigade; so, I figure those other dots, over there, and there and there, must be—"
___"Wait...hold on...WHAT??" Her 'view' tilted as she lost control of the scrution, her eyes popping open, blinking away the materia. At the last moment, she reached reflexively with her intent, and did something she would have said was impossible.
___She bound the scrution into place, as she opened her eyes.
___The wonder of the previous moments dampened her normal annoyance at having to flush out the Yrthe with her tears; the wonder, and the confusion. Could Jian jott after all...?!
___He slightly moved his eyes, to look up at her instead of up at the map; smiling, and raising his eyebrows—which looked very strange and comical from her vantage. And he continued to point.
___"See?" he said. "You're doing that, right?"
___Portunista looked up.
___The map stood out in even greater contrast and detail.
___And very fine points of orangish red, covered the edges of three of the 
compass-quarters.
___"I expect..." Jian yawned and stretched, "...those four points, running across the dell toward our front door, are Seifas and the others. Although we could be under attack already from scouts," he allowed. He rotated round and off the foot of the bed. "I'd better go check. Be back in a minute!"
___And off he trotted.
___Portunista, however, was watching the masses, gathering from the east, the west and the north.
___Each mass was somewhat larger than the blob of dots at the south, near the mouth of the pass.
___And each was slowly moving, over the ridges, over the mountains, through the forests, toward the middle.
___"Oh, scrat," she breathed...


Skip JRP commentary and go to next chapter

[JasonPratt]

Notes from the real author...

This is one of the longest chapters of the book so far, but I can't think of much to say about it that wouldn't be spoilerish, other than what's on the page already. The time had come for Portunista and Jian to work out some of the mysteries I had built into the Tower, as well as to uncover some more of the mysteries--and also for me to work out (and, where applicable, tweak to synch up) the implications of some of the data!

I found I had a hard time explaining in text what Portunista and Jian were seeing and working out, so if it still seems vague, don't worry it isn't you, it's me. :)

I don't like dumping a bunch of plot exposition without including some meaningful meaning along the way, and this was only the second major opportunity in the story thus far for Portunista and Jian to work together, so I focused on building their relationship while dealing with Portunista's rough character edges. And also built in some bits of mysticism here and there. :D I'll be ramping that up in a later important chapter toward the end of this Section (but after this first half of the novel).

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 42: Results

___With his long legs, going downhill, Seifas easily outran the others as they returned to the Tower. He paused at the door, watching behind them, waiting for them to catch up.
___The door popped opened behind him: "Hi!"
___Seifas twitched in startlement; then he decided that Jian must have seen them approaching from one of the windows—or maybe he'd heard the feet of the others. Othon's armor was certainly clanking loudly enough at least...!
___"A large brigade is approaching from the west," Seifas said; Jian had to jump aside as the squad rushed past him into the Tower.
___"Ah!—good! It's larger than ours, and there are two more marching in from the north and the east!"
___Seifas followed him up three stairs before this thoroughly penetrated.
___"Hold, wait," muttered the juacuar. "What?!"
___"More brigades?" Dagon's bushy eyebrows climbed to his hairline.
___"Good?" Othon blurted.
___"Oh, no I don't mean that it's good there are more brigades," clarified Jian, sort of. "I mean that it's good that we've got some verification for Portunista! Wait till she hears!" And he dashed upstairs, like a boy on Stilleve morning.
___A minute later, they reached the uppermost room.
___"Whew!" Pooralay squinted at the ceiling. "So this's what y'were doin' in here all mornin'. My 'pologies; thought y'were messin' aroun' with somethin' else..." he grinned.
___Jian opened his mouth, but Portunista trod on his foot. Just in case.
___"Now I know what I had been sensing beneath the Tower," she announced, overriding whatever Jian had been going to say instead—an "Ow!" escaped amusedly from his mouth. "That was a web-like feeling, and I didn't know what it did. But obviously, it detects and positions intruders wherever they are in the valley."
___Jian furrowed his face in thought as he gingerly rubbed his foot on his calf. "Did you say that the feeling extended out past the dell?"
___Portunista turned to reply...but nothing came out of her mouth.
___"The reason I'm asking," he mused, "is because I sort of remember you telling us something about it not extending past the dell; which the map's detection certainly does..."
___The maga sighed.
___"You did discover how to work the map," Jian hurriedly offered. "That was nifty! Um...Seifas," he continued, ignoring Portunista's sullen look, "I'm a little confused about how you could verify the western brigade. It's just now crossing the ridgeline, and that's...mmm...about ten klips?"
___The juacuar considered the question irrelevant at first; but, he happened to see Jian's eyes flick back in Portunista's direction. Then he understood.
___The fair man had only meant to help their commander, not undermine her; now he was trying to cover her embarrassment.
___Seifas could sympathize. Besides, on further thought, it was a pertinent question. The distance and time didn't seem to add up; and a prudent commander would want to know why.
___"We found where the sod had been cut, about a thousand paces into the forest: just as our commander had reasoned." Portunista perked at hearing this; and Jian gave Seifas a tiny grateful nod. "I ordered the squad to wait in ambush, while I ran ahead. I reached the ridge, and saw the leading elements coming uphill through a sizable meadow. Far too many for us to fight  directly."
___"An' some'v'us ain't really so good at gettin' ready to ambush anyway," muttered Poo. Othon traded shrugs with Dagon.
___Seifas pointed to the northern group: "These are very likely demimen. Only the Middlelands lie in that direction, and there is even less advantage to entering over those mountains than from the west or east."
___"Unless y'spend so much'f y'r time in marchin' up an' down mountains, that one or two more don't make any diff'rence," Pooralay agreed.
___"This gets better and better," Dagon mumbled. "I'd rather fight off those other two brigades than mess with a horde that size."
___"Allies?" Othon asked.
___Portunista shrugged. "Would demimen make alliance with a human brigade? Besides, the western brigade must know that Qarfax is missing: so why would forces cooperating with them even bother to try sneaking into the area from an unexpected direction?"
___"To secure their perimeter, outside in?" Dagon speculated. "Still'd be faster than marching them all to the southern pass, then back to perimeter camps. Anyway, it's hardly likely they're coming to trap and dispose of us," he wryly added.
___"I guess we'll see." Seifas flicked his glance to Jian, who was carefully contemplating the layout. What sort of tone had he heard...?
___"The scouts over there on the eastern rim, bother me most, I guess," continued Jian. Two orange dots rested in the treeline. "I wonder how long they've been there. Still, it might be a reasonable way to initiate contact with the eastern force," the fair man suggested, as he lay down on the floor, setting a pillow beneath his head. "Send someone out as if he's going back to camp, like Gaekwar, then loop him around behind those guys, and start a conversation." He nodded to himself, then noticed the others were staring at him. "Um...well, my neck was starting to get a crick, so I thought that this would help," he shrugged. At least he 
hadn't jumped back on the bed itself, Portunista groused... "Hey, I'll go if you want!" Jian offered. "I'm not all that sure I can sneak around behind them, though...besides, that hardly would tell them we're friendly. Would they shoot, do you think, if I walked up to them directly instead? They'll already know that we know that they know that we're here, and so that we know that they're there—right?"
___Portunista decided that sending Jian as an emissary would be the very last thing she'd consider—though Dagon was saying, "Good idea!" with a falsely cheerful demeanor...
___"Let them stay," she said. "At this point, scouts are hardly worth bothering with."
___"Unless they interfere with reinforcements," Dagon retorted. "Commander," the arrogant man infused the word with sarcasm, "I'm gonna go, to bring back an archery squad, for garrisoning the Tower windows. I'd better be leaving right now, in fact...with your permission," he added, in a tone that dared her to disagree.
___"Fine," she tensely replied. "I think that's a fine idea. Have them bring a cart of supplies, in case we're holed up here for several days. And bring a reinforced infantry squad as well." Portunista flicked her hand in his direction, dismissing him.
___After he left there was silence, as they returned to the map.
___Three larger brigades didn't allow many options to talk about.

___"Well!" Jian hopped up and stood. "Does anyone have any plan of how to survive a fight in here?"
___"Run," Othon said.
___Jian digested this recommendation, absently nodding; then: "That's a good plan!" he brightly agreed. "I'd better go make us some lunch, I guess!"
___And, he did.

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 43: Glimpses Of Twisting

___"Where are my scouts?" the thin man mildly asked.
___"Most certainly scouting," one of the eight hulking men who followed nearby respectfully answered, "as you have wisely decreed."
___"Are they to scout and not return?"
___The nervous lieutenant scratched one of his numerous scars, not daring at first to reply to this mildly rhetorical question. "Shall I slay them when they return, for being late?" he offered.
___"Perhaps," interjected a second brute, "they are already slain."
___"Have all my scouts been slain?" the thin man asked.
___The second soldier, Rester, shrugged; it wasn't his concern. The officer known as Harvester twitched, however. All the scouts? He'd sent only two, ahead of the march, to ensure their readied quitchgrass still was fresh. He hadn't thought to send more than two; not the eight he had sent before, to make the Tower ready for the coming of his lord. Why would there need to be more?
___"Perhaps opponents surround us, Misire," suggested the third lieutenant. He wasn't worried. He put much faith in his sword.
___And more: he knew the thin man's secret. All eight hanikim did; and so they addressed the leader of one brigade by the title reserved for kings—and those above kings.
___But this was just the beginning.
___"Perhaps," agreed the mildish man, and stopped in place, gently turning a beatific gaze upon his advancing people. Whoever was nearby, whatever they were doing, paused every minute or so to genuflect to him.
___They knew what cost would be extracted from them, if ever they failed to do so.
___"Ender." The mild man raised a hand. "Stop the Devouring Army here. Harvester, we shall send more scouts in all directions." He paused, and breathed in satisfaction, while Ender roared the new commands.
___Harvester, meanwhile, twitched again. More scouts in all directions...should he have done that already?
___"Misire, I beg the blessing of your attention, please." He knelt on the forest floor, his head chest-high to the scrawny velveted figure.
___"Speak." A calm and distant smile.
___"Misire, I've learned in the last few minutes, the soldiers I earlier ordered to scout for our flanks have been lazy and craven. Please, allow me to slay them for you, and find new scouts whom you can trust."
___"It is well, my loyal servant. Slay the treacherous failures, and raise new scouts to take their place. For the all teeming multitudes are mine—surely my army's increase never shall end."
___That, Harvester thought, was true enough: the brigade had absorbed every village that it had encountered so far.
___As criers relayed Ender's roars, the brigade now trudged to a halt. "I beg to leave, Misire," Harvester said. The robed man flicked his hand, dismissing his lieutenant, who hurried away.
___"Enemies all around," the magus mused. "Is this the first of blows from above? Or has a rival found his way before me?
___"If I turn in that direction," he continued, "I see BLOOD AND DEATH AND CLAWS AND DEFEAT AND VICTORY!!" he screeched; his eyelids sank into his skull. Harvester winced again—and ducked behind a wagon as soon as possible, just to be sure he wouldn't be summoned back.
___"Someone is there," the magus panted—his seven other hanikim, hearing The Voice, knelt behind him. "Someone is taking what I want, and there are enemies all around—too soon, too soon, I am not ready, blood must boil...!" One surviving baby began to cry nearby. His mother hastily smothered him.
___Better to smother, than to be heard by the Mad One.
___"He Who Fills The Cavicorn approaches; and the minions of the Lord of Slaughter; and...and..."
___The subcommander known as Biter, dared to look upon his lord.
___Biter considered himself a servant and master of terror.
___What he saw now, however, filled even his heart with fear.
___He saw terror, on the face of Praxiteles.
___"The Doom of Bricks...!" the magus frothed. "Ahg! Can't see, I don't want to look! It isn't possible—it isn't fair! He can't be here! Loss, loss..." the magus mumbled. Then, "NO! The War continues! We shall conquer, we have foreseen it! All shall be ours! We are strong and eat the Truth, and having expelled it, we make new truths! We can win...we can win...every Culling proves it...it is only a matter of time...Do I want to go there?" the magus asked, in his first voice. "We don't want to go," the second voice insisted. "But yes, WE DO! The secrets are there, that guarantee victory; we are the first, so we shall have them first, they spit on us, but we are the first!"
___The magus danced a jig, pumping his fists in the air. No one laughed. They waited as sheep in pens.
___"We are the first...but we are not the first, someone is before us...someone...we forget who...but Gamin is first..." the magus rasped a reptilian hiss. "He knows, I know. Gamin was braver. Gamin was first! Now we have the advantage, and we shall NOT let go!" His long and ragged fingernails dug his palm; blood dripped. "The Lord of Slaughter isn't first," he mocked; "for he fears! I do not fear him. I do not fear his minions. Yes, I am the worst, for I am the first, and so I do not fear!" He laughed. No one else laughed. "I, I, I am the worst...! The first and the worst...I wasn't the first, but now I am...I AM THE WORST, DO YOU HEAR? DO YOU FEAR??" he shrieked toward the unseen Tower.
___Silence followed.
___"I do not fear..."
___Biter thought that Praxiteles—or, rather, Gamin—wasn't convincing himself of this very well. But, he kept his opinion to himself. Biter needed no convincing, to be afraid of Gamin.
___"It isn't worth my time or effort, no...this is a...an opportunity. Yes! Opportunity waits at the Tower of Qarfax. Not worth my time or effort to fight, but worth someone else's...He Who Fills The Cavicorn shall fight, sweeping away what isn't worth my time...I want to see her!" the voice of Praxiteles clearly announced. "Nfff..." he shook his head, like a dog with a flea in his skull. "No, I am not going there...I am going...going..."
___The eyelids of the magus relaxed, half-closing sedately again.
___Gone, Biter thought, carefully bowing his head.
___"Biter, you shall remain, overseeing our encampment," Praxiteles pronounced, with the air of a man standing bored in an art exhibit. "Swelter, you shall stay as well. Flooder, Stinger, Thunder," he addressed the three most physically daunting men, "follow me. I am going around the Tower."
___Better you than me, Biter thought to his peers.
___Rester stood and sweated, as the others moved away. He had not been mentioned! Was he supposed to stay? Or leave?
___Choices were dangerous things to make, in the Devouring Army.

[JasonPratt]

Notes from the real author...

We won't be seeing Praxi-Gamin again until after the actual halfway point of the book, coming up soon (and thus not to be posted as part of this First Half Project), although he and Artabanus and the other chief antagonist for the book will be getting together soon after that point to introduce themselves to each other (and posture and plot and threaten and find reasons to not start killing each other off yet. Villain management is often tricky. ;) )

"Praxiteles" is a realworld name of a historical Greek sculptor, who as far as I've ever heard wasn't partially possessed by a demon. So why use his name? (Apologies to the real Praxiteles!) This goes far back to my original version of the climactic fight scene of Section One: originally I had Portunista attack the enemy shoulderbeast by magically warping and manipulating the wicker of the baskets. Even at the time this seemed rather an advanced technique for someone who hadn't even graduated from apprentice training--afterward I made a point to keep the jottings from her and Artabanus (and Gemalfan) simple if cleverly used. So I explained it as something she had been taught by a traveling magical sculptor. Why would he teach her that? Because she, um, convinced him to. Persuasively. ;)

That was going to have been Praxiteles.

At the time I wrote this chapter that was all still in effect, but by the time they actually meet in the book I had decided I didn't like that plotline--it's more dramatically interesting (under the eventual circumstances) if he has heard of her at secondhand but she's having to learn about him from scratch. Also, by then I had worked out what magi do and how they do it in a lot more detail, and the wicker manipulation seemed VERY much more like something a Mikonese cleric would be able to do by contrast. So I made the appropriate alterations, but kept Praxi's name because it sounds cool. :)

"Gamin" is also a realworld name, an archaic term for "scamp", although I don't recall the linguistic derivation offhand. But it's reflected in his consuming worry that he's just not strong enough to be making a move like this; also in his inability to authoritatively override Praxi's personality and will, leaving them both rather more insane than they might have otherwise been. Most (but not all) of my demons are quite personalistic--some are even charmingly personable! Gamin represents the messier more chaotic type of demonic oppressor in literature; most subsequent demons in the story will have more competency and more sanity than he does. Gamin has gone about as far as he can go, due to his destructive abuse of those who follow him; but then, he only considers them expendable distractions (and entertainment meanwhile) in order to get what he's really after at the Tower.

If Artabanus is lawful evil, Praxi-Gamin is chaotic evil and reflects another direction Portunista is in danger of falling. The third antagonist, the renegade juacuar Bomas (whom we won't meet any further in the first half of the book) would round out the classic role-playing categorization by being 'neutral evil': he isn't enough of a leader and commander to be specially in favor of the application of law, but he does appreciate positive discipline and moderation and isn't someone who indulges his whims at every opportunity. By his plans, he would be leaning toward developing into a lawful character however.

Praxi-Gamin introduces two important concepts in the novels: the idea of a spirit junctioning with another spirit for shared operation of a body, and dark prophecy. I decided from the moment of his introduction that it would be a lot more interesting (and even fun) for most prophecy to come through Rogue Agents--and for all actual prophecy from them to be true! I have metaphysical rationales and methods for that, which I won't go into here; but from a reader's perspective (as well as from my perspective of designing the plot) the question is how much of what sounds like prophecy actually is prophecy; how much are inferences (correct or incorrect) from (possibly incomplete) prophetic data; and how much is only wishful thinking. Praxi's lieutenants, the hanikim (which just means "large bodyguard"--they're human), and even Praxiteles himself, will start learning over time that Gamin's interpretation of what he foresees isn't always competent.


Back to Portunista & Company, much of CoJ's plot from this point forward (whether for her or for her opponents) is based on acquiring and processing information about the opposition in order to oppose them effectively on offense or defense. Praxi relies a lot on Gamin's foresight, which is thus a variation of the principle; but the other three sides (including the Ungulata) have to get information in other ways and try to suss out what the info means as a matter of practical survival. Qarfax's ceiling map is an important resource for Portunista in getting information about her opponents--but she's quickly learning it has limits. How best to put that map to use will be a main plot factor for the rest of the book.

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 44: Studies

___"Excuse me...um...Commander?"
___"Hi! Jian'll be fine!" The fair man waved at the puzzled soldier who stood at the door of the upper room. "Glad to see you! I guess this means that Dagon and Gaekwar also are back...oh, but I knew that already," he murmured half to himself, looking to the papers he held, as he lay on the bed. "Please come in," he absently added. "You'll be the first relief-watcher. There's the map," Jian pointed up, ignoring the awestruck stare of the soldier. "Those dots, we think are demimen, but we aren't sure yet. No word either about the other two sets. The southern dots are us, of course—I mean the brigade. It doesn't show dots in the Tower. Probably isn't important. Your job," he continued, "will be to keep a record of movements." He flapped the sheets on the writing slate. "So far it's been fairly quiet this afternoon: a couple of dots—scouts I mean—from the western brigade, tried to circle round north to the eastern side, but then were intercepted. I think that one survived to be taken prisoner. This other scout," he pointed, "was following them, until they got caught. Apparently he's a lot better, though, even in daylight—he's managed to get pretty close to each of the eastern pickets without them ever seeing him."
___"What about those other four?"
___"Definitely from the western brigade as well. They've been acting awfully weird." He furrowed his brow in thought. "They meandered around the northern quarter all afternoon, just south of the northern group; generally heading east, but sometimes reversing their course." He squinted. "It looks like they're on their way to the eastern brigade for sure, this time. Whoever they are, they easily handled a couple of interceptions from the northern group. So keep your eye on them. I mean if you can: I expect you'll be seeing a lot of activity once the sun goes down, and it may get kind of confusing..." Even more than this?! the soldier thought. "Whatever else you do, keep track of Seifas and Pooralay when they go scouting later tonight. And let us know if any significant group makes some kind of move from their camp, especially toward our brigade or the Tower. You won't have to tell us what enemy scouts are doing, like the ones relieving their pickets now along the northern and eastern rims of the dell. Just be sure to keep good notes. Oh, and speaking of which, you'll be relieved around midnight I guess."
___Jian spun round on the bed to sit, and then stood up. "The bed is great for watching, without your neck being cricked! Though writing's a little hard like that," he allowed as he left the room.
___Lying on the bed of Commander Portunista, wasn't entirely unattractive to the soldier; but he also considered it tantamount to suicide. The pale-skinned man had never seemed to be an idiot; decidedly odd, but more of a wit than a fool...Did Jian perhaps have permission to lie on her bed??
___The soldier added this to the word of how often Portunista had been observed near Jian while on the march to the Tower; and then he reevaluated some of the speculation he had been recently hearing...
___Outside, night was falling. Inside, soldiers bustled, settling themselves into places and routines, under freshly refurbished sconces. As he trotted downstairs to the garrison-floor, the fair man greeted the troops; they mostly returned the greeting with equal cheer.
___"How're things goin', Jian?" One grizzled veteran stood on cooking duty, over a bubbling stew.
___"Quiet, so far. Everyone else has had some, right?" He ladled out two dishes. "One is for the Commander," Jian explained.
___"Don't forget th' most important thing," the captain grinned, saluting Jian with the stirring spoon.
___"Ah! Ouch! That stew is hot! Um, good job!" He gingerly set the bowls to the side, before tapping a keg to fill two mugs with mead. The veteran had a good laugh.
___"Here, use this." The older man rigged a contraption around the bowls of stew.
___"Oh! I had been wondering what those pegs in the top of the bowls were for!" Jian held up a stick of wood; from each end dropped a knotted string to cinch around an angled peg. "Now it's like a balancing scale!" the curly-bearded man decided; and smiled a secret smile.
___"Yep. Y'learn a few things, portin' food for more'n one person. Carry the mugs in the crook of your arm."
___"Thanks, gaffer!" Jian stepped carefully back through the lounging soldiers. "Hot stew comin' through—gangway!"
___The soldiers shook their heads, smiling for the clownish man, as they oiled and sharpened steel.
___"I'm sayin' that he'll be back in under a minute," the gaffer winked, as Jian climbed up the stairs again. "Any takers?" Some betting commenced—for less than a minute.
___Jian came down again: minus the mugs and bowls of stew, but wearing a lopsided smile. Laughter followed him down the hall.
___He paused at the firepit, and opened his mouth; but, "Spoons!" the gaffer said.
___"'The most important thing,'" repeated Jian, and joined in the swelling laughter. He bowed to the cook, saluting the older man with the spoons he received. "It's been a long day," Jian sheepishly shrugged, and smiled as he walked back up the hall again. "Pay up, m'boys, pay up," the gaffer announced behind him.

___The only good cheer in the lab, however, arrived with Jian.
___"Hello, Portunista!" he called across the room. "I brought your dinner!"
___"Mm, thanks," she vacantly answered; she was studying some of Qarfax's notes, after hours of sorting and cleaning the room. Jian put the bowls on a nearby table, safely away from any writings, but brought her a mug.
___"Mm, thanks." She took a sip, without looking up, and set the mug aside.
___Jian looked around at the tidied laboratory, now well-lit by lamps and sigiled wisps.
___"Don't forget to eat the stew before it gels that gummy stuff on top."
___"Mm."
___Jian walked over to one far end of the room; then paced across it, in deliberation.
___"Things'll be awfully crowded downstairs for a while, looks like," he said.
___"Mm." She turned a page, and scribbled a note on a nearby pad.
___Next, he walked to the blast-pitted stone between the original door and the gap in the wall. "I wonder, where will they put their supplies?" he murmured, carefully pacing across the floor again. "I guess it'll be in the basement."
___"Mm."
___Jian surveyed the lab once more.
___"I wonder," he mused, "where Qarfax put his supplies..."
___"Mm." Portunista drank another sip of mead.
___Jian reflectively scratched his beard, then walked to a side of the room. "No lights over here," he mumbled; and spent a minute tracing the curve of the wall. Then he nodded in satisfaction.
___"Hm!" he announced.
___"Mm," she replied, and turned another page. He smiled a smile of progress being made, and eyed some nearby equipment.
___Jian's attention eventually landed on a square table. Sigils were etched into parts of its surface-frame. The stone within that frame, however, was glassy smooth. Jian walked over to it and reached a finger—but then he paused before he touched the surface.
___"Hey, 'ista! What does this table-thing over here do?"
___She sighed, looked up from her work, and took a longer drink of mead. "It's another map. The straight-line sigil turns it on; the circle turns it off. I have no clue what makes it work, or what he used it for," she added vexedly, returning to her studies.
___Jian shrugged and pressed the activation button. With a nearly inaudible hum, minuscule fractions of polished surface raised to varying heights, contouring the land around the Tower.
___"Keen!" Jian said. Portunista kept to her books. She had been impressed already, hours ago.
___Jian now spied a globe, small but finely sigiled, resting in a niche within the table-frame. He spun it. Nothing seemed to happen.
___Next he pondered two small sigil-wedges; one pointed left, the other right. He pressed the left.
___The map shuffled, and when it resolved, the scope had widened to show more land.
___"Very keen," murmured Jian in satisfaction. Pressing that sigil over and over, brought the map to a span of thousands of kilopaces.
___Two blue knobs now jutted up, widely separated on the map. Jian tapped these with his finger. Nothing happened. He wiggled them gently. Nothing happened.
___On further examination of the frame, he found four other sigils, shaped like arrows instead of wedges. These redrew the map, in the direction pressed; thus 'moving' the map around.
___Jian played with these; as the final daylight faded out of the two narrow windows, leaving the laboratory lit by magic and natural light. Occasionally, he would roll the sigilball in its niche; but still this seemed to do nothing. Two more wedges pointed up and down; however, they did not have any sigiltracings. Jian attempted to use them anyway. Nothing happened.
___Portunista, meanwhile, had more practical problems.
___Her brigade most certainly lacked the power to defeat even two larger forces, much less three. So how could she possibly keep the Tower?
___Qarfax could have defended himself, of course; and yet, he had believed that he should hire some guards, as Seifas had said, against mere natural threats.
___And yet, not against large numbers of natural threats, she reminded herself: no juacuar, not even Seifas, not even backed by nine other soldiers, could defend the Tower against a brigade—and any one of the warring Cadrists at the time would likely have brought an army of brigades.
___Qarfax could have protected himself against a Cadrist, or against a Cadrist's army; but probably not against them both. One would have overrun him while the other took his attention.
___And yet, Qarfax had only hired nine normal guards, and one juacuar.
___So: Qarfax had likely made other provisions for Tower defense—plans which did not include Seifas, nor Qarfax himself.
___Seifas, and Portunista's other subcommanders, together with a couple of squads, might be enough to repel a sally from any brigade the size of hers; but surely they couldn't defeat a brigade outright, thus nixing the risk of a siege.
___And she faced three brigades, larger than her own—from which she would soon be cut off.
___And she was not a Cadrist herself.
___She absolutely needed that extra defense.
___Therefore, she had spent the past two hours perusing scrolls and books for hints about such a defense. She was fairly certain her current stack contained the answers she needed.
___Unfortunately, Qarfax had written them mostly in code.
___Gemalfan's disciplex had not been all that difficult to decode, because the magus had still considered such information to be potentially useful in a trade. His coding had only kept casual viewers from learning too much.
___This was different.
___She rested her head on her hand, and thought.

___A single word, as she was thinking, caught her eye:
___four-faces.

___It caught at her memory, too. Where had she heard of this, in reference to Qarfax? Not in the past few days...further back than that...Yes, that night near the end of Hazyslope, when she had announced her plans to her subcommanders. During Seifas' story about what had happened at the tower, he had mentioned something...about...
___yes!—Qarfax had claimed four faces guarded him, so that he would never be caught by surprise.
___That sounded like something to do with the ceiling map. But its divisions were only natural, formed by the streams...
___...the four streams...
___diving below the four Tower faces...down to millwheels, constantly running machinery...including four spindles, engaging their sigils continuously...no: continuously engaging only one radial sigil, at four distinctly different points...!
___She rose to her feet, and carefully walked to the gap in the wall—the wrecked door being less than redundant now—trying to balance the weave of her reasoning.
___"Hey, 'ista!" Jian called out. "Mind if I stay here and work with this table some more?"
___"Fine, whatever..." she absently waved her hand in his direction.
___She quietly paced, down the stairs, passing Gaekwar at the garrison landing.
___"Ready for my report?" he asked.
___"Later," she said, not looking at him. She didn't see his lopsided smile.
___"I brought your other change of clothes," he added. "And also a shirt for Jian. Where should I put 'em?"
___"Up in the lab," she vaguely replied; and having passed him, forgot him completely, leaving him staring in curiosity.
___The subcommanders had claimed the 'basement' for themselves; but only for convenience, not for privacy. Soldiers were bringing in crates from a wagon outside, placing them so as to ease a defense of the open room. She stepped to one side, out of the way.
___She still could feel her intentive bind maintaining the Yrthescrution within Qarfax's ceiling map. She would need to release that now, she supposed—even if two Yrthescrutions could be bound into place at once, they'd only provide conflicting information. She flagged an infantryman, and told him to run upstairs to alert the watchguard not to panic if he lost his dots for several minutes.
___She gave the soldier an eighty-count to deliver the message. Then she began.
___First she released the bind on the scrution three floors overhead. She hadn't realized, before she released it, how relieved that part of her mind would be. But, she didn't remain at rest. She knelt, and placed one palm on the floor, where she could focus with least distraction; and jotted a new Yrthescrution.
___She sent her intent down into the well, searching its shape; finding the four turning spindles, and also the sigilband. Outside that band, within the rocky depths, the web that she had perceived the day before still lay, defying her  understanding.
___So, she tried to simply perceive the shape of the field as a whole; pulling her focus back, keeping as much of the field in her view as possible.
___A smile crept onto her face; for now she could see:
___four fields, each one slightly overlapping the other.
___She sent her thoughts out further...whatever they did, the fields did end before reaching the edge of the dell—as Jian, she ironically grimaced, had helped to remind her. And yet, the detection radius of the ceiling map did stretch to the ridges around the valley.
___So. Four distinct 'faces', surrounding Qarfax Tower. And documents hinting otherwise at a special Tower defense, made use of that term sometimes: "four-faces."
___Clearly, unlike the map above her, merely scruting the jointed field did not activate it. Probably just as well, she decided: she didn't know how to control it. What did it even do?
___Control...the disparate fields were linked in a way, by that common band from which they sprang. Would the control be a similar single-source?
___Simplicity, she told herself. If this was a defense, what could she expect about it?—if she had designed it, what would have been her priorities?
___To hold large forces at bay, or even to neutralize them, until she defeated any rival magi. And fighting against such rivals would likely require an intense concentration, at least as much as Seifas would need when dueling master swordsmen.
___Too much concentration to guide the defense. She should be looking for something, then, with pre-scribed behavior instructions, like the pentadart generators.
___She narrowed her focus somewhat, and began to scan, forth and back in a slow rotation of radius; allowing her intention to wash across the 'surface' of the subterranean fields. The forest for the trees, she reminded herself...She couldn't understand the details yet; so, she should look for a larger pattern—and she did detect a uniform repetition of insane complexity—and then, for some discrepancy...
___—like that! There, centered in one of the fields: a solid object, about two handwidths across; covered with sigils—sigils she couldn't understand and hardly dared to probe.
___This must be the control device.
___The maga sighed, partly in satisfaction at her reasoning's consummation, and partly in frustration. Qarfax would have known exactly where he placed his artifact, and would have been able to reach it intentively almost instantly, as he wished.
___But he would have known what to do with it, too...
___"Portunista!"
___She jerked, her concentration broken, the Yrthe falling from under her eyelids. She raised her head; Gaekwar was kneeling in front of her.
___"Finally," Gaekwar smiled his ironic smile. A corner of Portunista's mind was now reporting that he had been trying to get her attention for more than a minute.
___"Yes?" she replied in an icy tone—no reason to let him know that she'd been oblivious of his presence...
___"I think you should come upstairs. You won't believe this, unless you see it yourself."
___"Just tell me straight out. I've had a long day."
___He shrugged. "Okay: Jian is feeding the bird."
___"And...what does that mean?"
___"I told you you wouldn't believe it."
___"No," she corrected, with straining patience. "I don't understand it. There's a difference. What do you mean, he's feeding the bird? What bird?"
___"The bird that tried to kill you. He's feeding it."
___Now she began to wonder if maybe she'd fallen to sleep on the floor of the basement. This conversation seemed unreal...
___"The bird...from the forest, last night?" she prompted.
___"Yehhhhhp," he drawled, grinning fit to burst. "He's feeding it haunches of pork."
___She opened her mouth to ask, what in the hells of the lords of perdition that bird was doing here...!—but closed it again. "Okay," she relented. "I'll come see."

___She picked herself off the floor, and stomped to the narrow stairway, wondering what she would have to deal with now.

Skip JRP's commentary and go to final chapter of the First Half Project

[JasonPratt]

Notes from the real author...

Again, a very plotty chapter that I can't talk much about without spoilers, other than what was already developed in the chapter itself. What I can say is that pretty much everything discovered or reasoned out in this chapter will be dealt with somewhere in the rest of CoJ. Unlike some authors I try to tie up everything eventually. :)

There are some mysteries brought up in this book which won't be solved until later, including in regard to the Tower. That also includes the question of "Whassup with Jian?"--I'll be leaving clues around all the time, plus some misdirections that look like clues and some clues that look like misdirections.  8-) I don't plan to spell everything out with him directly until the epilogue of the final book, but I expect some enterprising readers will be able to figure it all out before then. Not that I'll confirm they've got it right of course. ;)

Anyway, if I'm still sufficiently alive and kicking by the time I finish the series, and if readers still have unanswered questions (since it's possible I may inadvertently leave some points behind along the way, and I may leave some minor puzzles to be worked out by the readers), I'll be glad to explain the solutions--maybe postmortem in a small book dedicated to that, to minimize plot spoilage for readers still working through the series.

Tomorrow for Valentine's Day I'll be finishing the First Half Project with the answer to what it means for Jian to be feeding the bird. :)

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 45: Heart And Stone (Part 1 of 2, for forum-posting limitations)

___Portunista stepped into a scene from the fabric of dreams.
___Here was the laboratory, with tables and books and shelves and equipment, testament to the will and the labor of Man. Here there was light, bound by artifice magical and mundane.
___There, within one arcing span of wall, was life abundant, the verdant trees and the flowering fruits of a tropical forest half a world away—a forest she recognized. Its light shone living and beautiful: starry gleaming and crimson-violet clouds.
___The laboratory hummed of the settled and antiseptic. Through the breach came all the noise of a living world, poised on the edge between sleeping and waking.
___Jian stood, bridging the gap, feeding a meat to the bird.
___The fair man turned his head to them, and put his finger to his lips.
___"She's a little skitterish," Jian explained, softly with an even tone. "But don't be whispering, either; it sounds like hissing to her." Even the sibilants in that sentence were making the avian edgy. Jian turned back to the animal, twice his size though still quite young, trilling lowly to her. A stack of meat was lying at his feet.
___"Where...how...?" Portunista had too many questions.
___"The meat was in a supply room. I'll show you in a minute."
___One snip...A corner of Portunista's mind kept on replaying this creature's blindingly quick attacks, while her feet were taking her slowly into the room at an angle. The thing would only need one snip. Those haunches couldn't possibly be as fresh as Jian himself...
___"With your permission, Midama, I think I'll stay right here." Gaekwar took a position near the gap; he would help keep anyone else from disrupting the hazardous balance that Jian had somehow attained.
___The aasvogel could easily dart into the laboratory at any moment—and Portunista couldn't possibly make it to the outer landing, if the avian now attacked. Nor was there anywhere for her to feasibly hide in the room.
___She might be able to kill it—but not soon enough to save Jian, if it chose him as its first target. The blind-minded man was standing right next to the thing...!
___"Jian," she carefully said—and the avian's black inhuman eyes locked onto her instantly, instinctively gauging vectors... "Jian, you must step away from the bird. That animal isn't a pet."
___Jian clucked softly, drawing the creature's attention back to himself. "Of course she isn't a pet," he murmured. "I would be insulting her, to treat her like that! She is more like...a lover, I think. I am learning from her; she is learning from me; and so we are communicating." He was silent a moment. "I want the love we share to grow."
___"Jian!" Portunista grated. "She...IT...is a killer...bird! It doesn't love anyone!"
___The impossible man looked back at her a moment, with that quiet smile. "Surely you aren't jealous of a killer bird, milady."
___Portunista briefly considered blowing the innards out of the animal, or screeching some denial that would probably make it react into spearing her "husband" like a quail on a stick!—but, either of those responses might be interpreted as her being jealous of a killer bird.
___So, she forced herself to calm.
___"No," she replied, reasonably and calmly. "I am not jealous of the bird."
___"That's because, unlike the bird, Portunista doesn't give a hoot!" The maga whipped her head around to impale the 'cowherd' with a glare; but the lanky man continued to grin, as he lazily leaned against the edge of the wall-gap—carefully aiming his disker at the aasvogel.
___"Good," said Jian. "Because, to be honest, I think she may be jealous of you." He softly laughed. The avian shifted on its branch, edging closer to Jian; but its eyes were locked back onto Portunista.
___The maga decided this conversation was only allowing the men to enjoy the situation at her expense. If the fool insisted on putting himself into this position, then he deserved to die. She would just have to...
___...trust him.

___Years later, contemplating her thoughts of that night, she would write:

___"Behind me lay a path, which I could follow with my mind, clearly enough; but it led beneath me up to a veil. Did it stop behind the veil? Or did it continue on?
___"It had continued on before. But, did that guarantee that it still would continue?
___"Perhaps Jian was insane. Perhaps he was making a sentimental mistake. The path behind me told me that neither of these was likely true; but, there were many parts of that path I still didn't understand.
___"Yet Jian wasn't merely a thing to be analyzed. Jian was a person. Perhaps he could see beyond the veil, and wasn't merely imagining that he saw.
___"Trusting what I could see was very important; and one of the things I could see, was that he usually knew what he was doing. But...
___"Trusting my analysis, could carry me to the veil, and it could give me some idea of what should lie beyond it.
___"But trusting Jian, personally...did I dare do that?

___"I wish I could say I chose to step through the veil.
___"I decided instead, that I was too tired to care.

___"I told myself I didn't care, and wouldn't care if he died.
___"I lied to myself—to avoid the risk of a personal trust."

___"Fine, Jian, whatever," Portunista sighed. "She can be as jealous of me as she wants, so long as she stays over there."
___And so she turned away from Jian.
___It didn't help her to feel any better. Instead of exhausting herself with worry...she only felt exhausted.

___She began to examine the room more directly—how had Jian done this at all?
___The tablemap quickly caught her attention.
___"Jian," she asked, "why is that little ball on the table?"
___"It activates the tesser-generator built into this wall," he answered. "I thought it was meant to move the map around, by rolling the ball in its niche. Except, of course, there were other sigils for doing that. Then, after you left, I noticed the niche was beveled down to halfway below the middle of the ball. There didn't seem to be any point to that, except to allow some fingers room for taking out the ball. So, I took it out."
___Portunista couldn't resist looking up, to see how things were going over at the portal. Jian was holding out an especially heavy haunch; the avian nicked its flesh and bone—the length of a forearm or so from Jian's own flesh.
___The maga's stomach clenched; she looked away.
___"So, when you removed the ball..." she prompted.
___"The sound of the table changed. You probably noticed already." Actually, she hadn't, but neither could she remember what kind of semi-audible hum it had made before. "That hinted that maybe the ball would be useful somewhere else than in its niche. There weren't any other obvious holes; so I touched it to the map. Poom," he softly exclaimed. "The wall disappeared, and rain began to blow in the room—from a shower out at sea. You saw the water on the floor, right?"
___"The giant killer bird eating out of your hand had first attention, I'm afraid."
___"Awwwww," Gaekwar drawled. "She does give a hoot..."
___Portunista pointed this time, along with her glare. Her subcommander didn't stop grinning, but at least he did stop talking.
___"The map immediately scrolled to put the ball at the center. Using the arrows, not the brackets, moves the portal laterally; the ball stays in the center. Pick up the ball to close the portal. Nice design."
___Portunista wondered whether closing the portal right that moment would slice the bird in half. But, then it would also slice him...
___"Jian," she tried to achieve a tone of pleasant casualness, "step into the room for a moment, hm?"
___And she flashed what she hoped was an innocent smile.
___Jian looked only suspicious and amused.
___Then he bent for the largest remaining ham. "Here, Milady," he murmured to the animal. "Watch the ham...watch it..." He waved it back and forth between them; the aasvogel tracked the meat, tensing itself to strike. Portunista felt her nose twist with a burst of...jealousy?! Was she jealous of the bird? So what if Jian was calling it by her name...?—her name?! She didn't want that name from him! Blast its eyes, the bird was a something, not a someone anyway!
___Jian threw the ham far into the trees; the adolescent aasvogel leapt in chase, twisting through the branches, nabbing it before the haunch had bounced three times. "Well done, Milady!" Jian called out. The avian scree'ed in their direction twice, shortly. At being complimented? In farewell?
___Probably telling its siblings and cousins about free food nearby, thought Portunista sourly...
___Jian had already stepped back over the threshold, so she plucked the ball off the map. The portal snapped from existence, leaving the curved stone wall.
___Jian sighed and nodded, toward the vanished portal. Then he walked to the map.
___"I don't suppose that anyone has a towel, or something?" he asked, keeping his hands away from anything. "I'd rather not have my new green shirt to be smelling like 'dead pig'. Just in case I see Milady again." He winked at Gaekwar; the lanky subcommander shook his head, and chuckled.
___"No, I do not have a towel," said Portunista.
___"Not a problem," he shrugged. "I think I saw some goods like that, in Qarfax's storeroom."
___"Which would be, where...?"