Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (63 page)

Boots thudded toward them from the corridor outside—Rebecci’s people.

Felice raised her glass. “Here’s to secrets,” she toasted, and drained her spirits in one gulp.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Caldan placed the fine wax carving tool down on the bench and massaged his hand. Around him, the noise from other apprentices and journeymen in the smith-
crafting
forge wasn’t at all distracting. It was a pleasant backdrop, familiar sounds and smells he realized he’d missed.

He wiped sweat from his brow, taking care to avoid dripping it on his paper schematics, and drank from a cup of water. That was the problem with working in the forge: the heat. By design, the wax was hard and didn’t soften at higher temperatures, but sweating made for slick hands that could make carving difficult. Caldan used a rag constantly to keep them dry. A nuisance to be sure, but he’d rather work here than by himself in a cold workroom. And he’d worried if he didn’t use his reserved bench and it remained empty, someone else would claim it for the day.

The physiker had arrived early, as she herself had suggested, to make Miranda comfortable before leaving to tend to her own clients. Her fee had been high, but he felt it was worth it, though he’d need to find more ducats in a few weeks. He’d left the physiker to her ministrations and started his
crafting
work early.

Caldan replaced the carving tools in their leather folder and brushed the bench clear of wax scrapings. He stared at the wax medallion for a few moments. A crafted medallion wasn’t his first choice, but the sorcerers seemed to like them. Perhaps because they were showy? He liked to keep his
crafting
s smaller and less noticeable. He shrugged. Most sorcerers liked to show what they were, and for them, a visible sorcerous medallion was a good choice.

Time to take stock of his equipment for the next stage: two wax rods for flues, and a mold to encase the medallion with alchemical plaster. During one of the breaks he’d taken to rest his fingers and hand, he’d carefully weighed the metals and rare earths for his alloy and set them to melt in a crucible in the furnace. A quick check, and he confirmed they were ready. He wanted them to remain molten as long as he could, to ensure the alloy was evenly mixed. Taking a thin metal rod, he gave the alloy another stir, careful to ensure he didn’t spill any of the metal.

In an identical procedure to when he’d made his shield wristband, he prepared the wax medallion casting with flues and encased it within a layer of alchemical plaster. As the mixture began giving off heat, he relaxed and waited for the reaction to harden the casting.

When that was done, he used tongs to place the mold close to the heat of the forge to melt the wax. More time passed, until he was satisfied the alchemical plaster had hardened and the wax had melted. He tipped the molten wax onto the furnace, where it hissed and bubbled as it was consumed.

His thoughts drifted back to when he’d created his shield
crafting
, not so long ago. He shook his head. It felt like a lifetime. Again, he accessed his well and used the tongs to pour his violently shimmering alloy into the mold. As the stream of brightly glowing metal flowed into the hollow space, filling the runes and patterns he’d carved, he quested his sorcerous senses into his creation, testing the anchors, buffers, and control glyphs. Licking salty sweat from his lips, he connected to the first link, and the second, sending power coursing through the liquid medallion. Then he split a third and fourth string, also connecting these to the spare linking runes.

He’d modeled his design on Bells’ shield
crafting
, which was far more complex than his first effort. If Simmon had thought his smith-crafted wristband was enough to pass him as a journeyman, then this certainly would be. Of course, a major drawback was that it could only be used by a sorcerer who could split their well into four strings, which ruled out any apprentice and quite a few journeymen. His wristband was a
crafting
most journeymen couldn’t hope to match, and this medallion would be a magnitude more intricate. Caldan hoped a
crafting
of such complexity aimed at use only by masters would greatly impress them. And with the war against the Indryallans, he could—no, would—prove himself useful.

Now all he had to do was wait, maintaining the four strings and his power flowing through the patterns until the medallion solidified. He removed the mold from the furnace and took it to his bench, placing it on a metal holder so as not to burn the wooden surface. Minutes passed, and he frowned with the effort as his head began to ache. He’d been able to split his well into five strings before, but only for a very short period of time. Holding four strings was supposed to be easier than five, but maintaining the linkage for long periods could be a problem; he was already tiring. Clenching his teeth, he let out a soft moan before steeling his will. He would not fail in this smith-
crafting
. It was essential that Mold and the other masters looked at him in a new light. Only then could he concentrate on healing Miranda.

As he focused on maintaining his well and the four strings, he lost track of time. The noise of the apprentices and journeymen faded into the background, until he was scarcely aware of it.

Then, his strings twitched and began slipping from his mental grasp. He hissed, clutching at them desperately. But he was too tired, and there was no strength left in him. One slipped free, then another. As each was sucked back into his well, it became easier to hold the others, but there was no point now. He closed his well. Had he been able to maintain the flow long enough for the imbuement to take?

Draining his cup dry, he waited a few minutes to gather his strength. He carried the casting with the tongs to a barrel of water and plunged it in. Caldan smiled as there was no hiss. He may have lost track of time, but it had cooled considerably. A good sign he’d held onto the
crafting
, and the imbuement would be pure.

Caldan cracked the cast and retrieved the medallion, taking it to his bench. He couldn’t wait any longer. Despite his tiredness, he split his well into four strings and linked to the newly made
crafting
.

His skin tightened and his vision blurred as the shield enveloped him. Lemons and hot metal pervaded the space around him. He held out a hand and saw a multicolored haze covering it like light reflecting from fish scales. A second skin, similar to Bells’ shield
crafting
.

He’d incorporated Bells’ design into his, with a few minor adjustments. Her artistry had become clearer the more he’d sketched. Runes and linkings he never would have thought of puzzled him at first. And then it had all clicked into place, like a confusing Dominion strategy that he’d seen for the first time. By contrast, his original shield
crafting
seemed crude to him now.

No standard blue shield formed from two strings, this one was far stronger. Reaching his senses toward it, he felt the enhanced density of the shield. It drew a torrent from his well. Not only would it need a sorcerer who could manage four strings, their well would have to be able to cope with the flow. His grin faltered. What use was a
crafting
that hardly anyone could use?

But he could use it. And so could most of the masters. Closing his well, he cut off the four strings, and the multicolored haze enveloping him winked out. It was then he noticed every apprentice and journeyman in the room staring at him. Some with awe, some with barely concealed jealousy. The master of the forge for the day approached Caldan, looking serious yet pleased at the same time. She was a petite woman with curly brown hair and an engaging smile.

“Fine work,” the master said. “Very fine work. Your journeyman’s piece, I assume?”

Caldan gave a wry smile. “Yes. I wanted to smith-craft something that would guarantee my promotion.”

The master smiled back. “You can never do too much for your journeyman’s piece. And this is as fine a work as I’ve seen any master create, let alone an apprentice.” She held her hand out. “May I?”

Caldan hesitated a moment before handing her the medallion. Accessing his well, he waited until he sensed her do the same then opened his senses to judge hers.

She’d linked four strings to the
crafting
, but no shield sprang up around her. She grimaced and squinted. Her well felt narrower than his, and though she stretched it to its limits, she couldn’t draw enough power to generate the shield.

With a disappointed sigh, she closed her well. “It was worth a try. Four strings, I can manage, even five for a short period of time, but the amount of power this
crafting
requires is beyond me.”

Not knowing what to say, Caldan kept silent.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” she said, handing him the medallion while clasping his shoulder with her other hand. “Everyone has different strengths. I have a feeling you’ll go far with the Protectors, Caldan. And I know Master Mold will be impressed.”

•

Caldan sat alone in the room he shared with Miranda. It had taken a while to clean and tidy the bench in the forge, along with the tools he’d used. By the time he’d finished he was famished and thirsty, and had to wolf down cold leftovers from the Protectors’ kitchen.

Now, after the physiker had just left, he placed his new shield
crafting
in his satchel and removed the components for his second
crafting
. For this one, he wouldn’t be casting any pieces himself. They were too small and fiddly to fit any cast runes, and the Protectors’ forge didn’t have the proper equipment to produce such fine pieces of metal. For these, he’d had to rely on the clockmaker. And that meant he’d have to scribe his
crafting
s on the surface, either by scratching with a sharp implement, or with a pen and ink. Etching was not fine enough for the control he required, and come to think of it, there would be problems scratching the runes into the metal as well. That left a pen and ink.

Taking all of the metal components out, he laid them on his bed then separated them into three piles, one for the arms and legs, one for the body, and another for the neck and head. When he’d made his first working automaton, he’d thought his knowledge of
crafting
was extensive. It was only with his encounters with the Indryallans, and examining Bells’
crafting
s, that he realized he’d barely scratched the surface of what sorcery was capable of. And destructive and coercive sorcery were only part of it. With the expanded knowledge and skills he’d gained, he could see such potential in his
crafting
s that he wouldn’t have thought possible a few months ago.

Caldan took in the intricate pieces of metal in front of him and ran a finger down a few of the complex parts. The clockmaker’s workmanship was exceptional, as he’d expected. But the pieces needed a sorcerer’s touch to make them come alive.

He paused, turning the thought around in his mind. Was it really possible? The most complex automatons were still under a sorcerer’s control, and required almost constant concentration. Coercive sorcery manipulated the mind, so… could it be used to mimic a mind? The idea intrigued him, but he filed it away. He already had too much on his plate for the time being. All his effort had to go into doing whatever he could to heal Miranda.

Returning to his mechanical pieces, he prepared his pen and ink, making sure the viscosity was just right. It was a difficult ink to use, and had to be made in small batches. An alchemical reagent caused the ink to harden rather than dry, which enabled it to adhere to the metal with a strong bond. Once applied, it wouldn’t rub off or flake loose. But that meant going through a lot of pens, which had to be discarded once the ink set; and it required a sure hand to pen the
crafting
runes quickly and without error.

He was exhausted after such a long day but at the same time invigorated. The sense of accomplishment he’d felt with his successful smith-
crafting
gave him impetus to ignore his weariness and push ahead with this second project.

Stifling a yawn, he poured a small amount of ink into a wooden spoon and added a few drops of alchemical reagent. Dipping his first pen in the liquid, he gave the ink a stir, opened his well, and set to work.

Hours later, he sat back and frowned. He’d almost run out of pens, but the job was done. His mind ached from holding onto his well and the strings for such a long time. But it had been necessary in order to imbue the pieces, the same as it had been with the medallion. Each segment acted as a separate
crafting
, and they all had to work together as a whole, in synchrony. And that was where most sorcerers failed with automatons.

Caldan almost laughed out loud comparing the simplicity of his dog-like automaton to the ones in front of him. The two he’d been working on were still in pieces, but they were orders of magnitude more complex than what he’d even thought possible.

He slipped a number of the rune-covered pieces into a palm-sized cloth bag and tied it securely. He wanted a second automaton no one knew about in reserve. If the last few months had taught him anything, they’d shown him he needed to be prepared. This automaton would be for him alone. It was a metal beetle that fit into his palm; he’d taken the most time over the
crafting
. The other pieces were still complex, but again, he didn’t want to show the masters the full extent of what he was capable of. And if any of the Protectors recognized some of the
crafting
s he’d imbued in it, they’d likely call for his head. He had no idea which of the masters would be capable of deciphering the
crafting
s and recognizing the coercive sorcery he’d included, but he couldn’t take a chance. That, plus trust was harder to come by these days. Until the Protectors proved they could be relied on, he’d keep his abilities hidden.

With the mechanical parts of the second automaton secreted at the bottom of his satchel, Caldan returned to work on the other
crafting
. His eyes and fingers ached, but he was so close to completing it, he couldn’t stop now.