Chapter 191 – Sparks of Justice

Mirian contemplated the letter she was holding. Then, wincing, she handed it off to the Royal Couriers to be delivered by zephyr falcon. There was no sense keeping the Elder Gates a secret from her first ally. She had already extended the cycle, which meant all of the time travelers knew something was going on. Liuan already knew she was investigating the Monument. Perhaps the other traveler could help locate one in Akana Praediar. And, Mirian needed to keep developing the bond of trust.

It’s best you sent it, she reassured herself. She had also sent the glyphs required for the blink spell and instructions on how to soul-communicate. For that, she would need to find someone like Viridian—or just visit Viridian. She’d told Liuan Var she wouldn’t be in Torrviol for most of the cycle, so she would be free to visit. Maybe the other woman would trust her. Maybe not.

Her next objective was to create a new spell. The Palendurio Gate offered quite a shortcut, but only if she could burrow through several dozen meters of rock. She revealed her status as Prophet to several professors, then went to Torrian Tower for the highest quality work tools and materials, then got to work. First, she scribed air bubble, then began designing and assembling the glyphs for a new spell.

After several tests, she ended up settling for a spell that combined manipulate glass, shape stone, force drill, and force push. The spell established a pushing force near the top. The manipulation spells pulled chunks of rock down so the force drill could more easily carve up those chunks. Once severed from the whole mass, four divots in the pushing force caused them to shunt to the side. The pushing force would also keep the Magrio River from collapsing into the hole immediately, which would give her time to reseal a portion to keep the river from drowning Torrviol—she wasn’t at all sure how the physics of that worked—and give her time to establish the air bubble spell so she could breath as she ascended.

As she worked, she’d also have to levitate.

It would drain a colossal amount of mana, so Mirian stocked up on several elixirs before she left. She killed Specter, just because if Liuan Var was going to visit, she didn’t want the other woman to have to deal with her. She’d already tried to manipulate one time traveler.

Then, Mirian headed down into the depths of the Underground and found Eyeball.

EEEEEEEEE! Eyeball screamed in her mind as soon as she entered.

Why surprised!? Mirian sent furiously. Just saw me!

But Eyeball was pulsing with vibrations and flashes of color again. HELLO. THIS IS THE ‘SECOND’ TIME WE HAVE MET. ISN’T THAT FUNNY?

You know sarcasm? she asked, though she wasn’t sure if she’d sent the last word properly. Very funny.

Eyeball continued to pulse.

Open Palendurio Gate, please, she told it.

DONE.

And small doors.

The doors opened.

Thank you. Later.

LATER. HAHA! Eyeball pulsed with laughter again.

That’s not going to get old, Mirian thought as she descended. When she reached the stone floor of the shaft, she cast blink again, which sent her plummeting right into the gate.

She landed on the other side in the depths of Palendurio. She had to take a moment to steady herself. Then, she started to levitate, and drilled upward. Stone cascaded down, falling into the Elder Gate below. Twice, she had to rest, not because she had drained all her mana, but the strain of maintaining so much power for so long. After nearly an hour of digging, she at last breached the riverbed. She resealed the rock below, then shot up through the river with her air bubble, breaching the surface next to a large raft with a very surprised crew.

Palendurio in a few hours, she marveled as she levitated over to the Lowfort District.

***

She met Rostal in the courtyard of his home.

Rostal, as per usual, pretended to be completely unbothered by the intrusion. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Mirian. I brought falafel and a plate of Mahian meatballs from Kaalim.” That was one of his favorite street vendors. She gestured to a steaming plate on the courtyard table. “I’m going on a trip to Alkazaria, but I’d like to learn more about Persama. And Ibrahim Kalishah. Let me tell you a little about myself…”

***

Mirian had endlessly thought through the risk she was taking. Just a few weeks ago, she’d thought getting near Alkazaria could never be worth it. Now, with a possible gate beneath the city, she’d changed her mind. The Palendurio Gate was only getting her to Alkazaria a full day sooner. That was more time, but not so much it qualitatively changed the risk she was taking.

There were other advantages. She’d be able to observe Ibrahim’s moves prior to the siege. She could better infer where Atroxcidi was sending his strike force from.

As they took the train to Alkazaria, she and Rostal talked.

“What have I already told you of Ibrahim?”

“That he associates most with the Last Breath of the Phoenix form. That he strongly believes in the God of the Isheer, and seeks to correct the injustices Baracuel perpetrated on Persama. That he’s been betrayed before, and has trouble trusting. That he takes risks.”

Rostal studied her, expression unreadable. “If I taught you the Last Fires of the Phoenix, that means something. I vowed not to teach it again, and I do not break a vow easily.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I rarely speak of my vows. You know of tachaborh?”

“I’ve heard the word before, but it’s hard to define. Friian doesn’t have an equivalent.”

“It’s when you boast about your piety in front of everyone. Talk to everyone about how well you keep your promises. Tell of every good you have done, so all may see you and know how good your heart is. A type of… arrogance. My vows are between me and God. If someone wants to tell you all about their vows, they didn’t make the vows for themselves, they made them so that others might watch. Take care of those who have excess tachaborh.”

Mirian nodded. That made sense. She’d had a friend in preparatory school who was very loud about how good a friend she was.

She hadn’t been a very good friend.

“Ibrahim. What to say about him? He was a refugee from Mahatan. Came to me when fighting was still going on in the city. I instructed him, like I instructed many fools at the time. I thought it more important to preserve a dying martial art than to consider how that might change a soul. He was a good student, the kind teachers dream of. He listened astutely. He practiced hard. He was kind in his triumphs, and calm in his defeats. He helped teach the other students when they struggled, and his patience seemed infinite.”

“Hmm. I’d pictured him as having a fiery temper.” Like me.

“Oh, but he did have it. To have a soul of fire is not always to be ablaze. Most of the time, he was an ember, burning deep within the log. Only rarely did he burst apart. He grew up and went to the University of Urubandar. Studied archeology and history. He wrote to me often, and I thought, ah good, the embers are cooling. They will die, and he will live a good life. Full of peace.”

Rostal said nothing for a time. He wasn’t looking out the window at the countryside as it rushed by, but deep into some memory. “He went off to do archeology. Got a much coveted appointment studying the ruins of Mayat Shadr. I don’t know what happened next. He stopped writing. Somehow, he found his way back to Mahatan. Only much later did I learn he had studied recent history, and had spent time in the library poring over newspapers and tracing business connections to find out just who killed his family.”

Mirian searched her memory. “That’s right… you said he found the militia that did the deed. But he wasn’t satisfied. He found who hired them, and who funded the mining company.”

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Rostal nodded. “Somehow, he got involved in Dawn’s Peace. He tried to recruit me, but he didn’t know the history I had with them. How many students I had who joined them and lost their lives. However, there was no hope of convincing him. If you speak to fire to calm it, your oxygen will only fan the flames.”

“What is Dawn’s Peace?” Mirian asked. “The name seems… absurd.”

“They took the name when they were pacifists. However, Baracuel learned that if you massacre pacifists enough, the survivors eventually learn that the only path forward is to fight, and once they have learned that lesson, they are implacable foes.”

“And now he seeks justice, no matter the cost.”

“Indeed. There is an old Persaman philosophy, the Dawn Teachings, based on Isheer texts. Goes back to the collapse of the Triarchy. The idea is, without a foundation of justice, a society is doomed to fail.”

Mirian thought about that. “You don’t agree, though.”

“It is the thought of fools. Can one only build when the world is ash? Of course not. The world is formed through the confluence of ten million actions. If you do not like the result, change the action you take. Society is not a building. It is a thing built each day. There are many reasons people do not change it, but there are no reasons they cannot.”

Hmm, Mirian thought. What did she believe? Fourteen years ago, she believed in survival, that if she could just escape the war, she might have a quiet life as an artificer. Twelve years ago, she believed that if she could win a battle, somehow a good life would follow. Eight years ago, she thought if she could stop Troytin, Corrmier, and a few other key figures, she could stop the cascade of violence.

Would that be enough? If she could stop the conspirators in Akana and Baracuel, if she could convince Ibrahim that justice could be dealt out peacefully… if she and Liuan and Ibrahim formed a pact to stop the wars… would it be enough? The problem was, bringing peace to Enteria didn’t solve the actual apocalypse. What will it take to uproot spell engines from the world? What will we replace them with? And they do need replacement. It’s spell engines that plow the fields. Spell engines that prevent myrvites from eating all the crops. Spell engines that spin thread and spell engines that help build houses.