Firm walls of brick insulated Luce from the incessant commotion beyond, allowing him to actually focus on his work. The roar was inaudible, the clamor out of sight.
It was no Tower office, certainly, but despite Perimont’s apparent disinterest in the subject, he’d manage to stock and furnish a surprisingly adequate workshop within the Governor’s mansion. Requisitions Luce had made in the weeks since his ouster had helped bring it up to more appropriate standards, including the liquid vessels and weights necessary for this next experiment. Not a moment too soon, as it turned out.
Unfortunately, walls could only help so much when someone would knock on his door seemingly every five minutes, but as annoying as messages and requests from Guardians, clerks, and other underlings could be, it was hard to deny their importance.
Why couldn’t I have had a nice, calm minute to settle things once I arrived? No, instead there was a murderous traitor governor that had to be dealt with, conscription to be repealed and people returned to their families, an entire war to curtail, and just when that seemed like it might be getting slightly under control, the entire bloody sun had had to wink out. Either because of a preemptive invasion from an evil spirit of darkness or the seemingly random banishment of one of the oldest, most powerful spirits in the world.
The sun was the source of almost all energy on Terramonde; that much was covered in classes for ten year olds. Light for plants to photosynthesize, to turn into energy humans and animals could consume. Warmth, to keep Terramonde from being the spirit of nothing more than a lifeless, icy rock.
And power, above all.
A mule pulling a wagon ate those same plants that absorbed that same sunlight; a ship catching natural wind harnessed the differences in air pressure, the fluctuations across the surface all stemming from the same source; the food people ate; the logs in their hearths to keep them warm; some biologists even suspected that humans needed a nutrient from the sun directly to survive.
All the energy simply shifted in form, changing from one state to another while passing its power along. But not all of it; each time there would be loss. Entropy would wear away, dissipations of heat and useless byproducts at every transition.
Eventually, consuming all.
The problem before him was one of efficiency, of best using what sources of fuel remained to keep people alive as long as possible: firewood, from trees whose leaves would not know light; food, already harvested and stored, or fed to animals whose flesh could provide its own; and perhaps, another fuel, stored yet another way. Deposits of coal beneath the surface, gasses like hydrogen to burn, even flowing magma, if necessary.
If only Malin had a Nocturne gate as well. Harnessing energy from Khali’s world was far from a complete project, barely beyond the simplest proof-of-concept, but if ever there were a time to pour money and hours into the project, this was it. No choice but to trust Harold and Sir Julius to manage it back home. If they arrived at a breakthrough, the resources resulting could be shared.
In the meantime, I have to work with what’s here. Nothing could be dismissed out of hand.
Even alternative sources of power entirely. Even energy wrought by suffering and oppression, if it could be turned towards saving civilization.
And so Camille Leclaire stood before him, somehow managing to look like she’d slept in the past two days. Khali’s curse, maybe she even did. Not everyone cared so much, even with so many lives on the line. She would be conditioned not to, even, given her role in the Empire of the Fox.
“I have good news.” She examined the tips of her fingers, not looking particularly bothered by the dire circumstances. “Excellent news, as a matter of fact. I think even you will see it that way, given the dire circumstances.”
That last part doesn’t make it sound too promising.
“It can wait two minutes. Observe.” Luce directed her attention to the apparatus he’d prepared in her absence, taking some small pleasure in the irritated look on her face at being ignored. “This could be the key to everything, potentially. Even if not, it’s important to rule it out.”
Leclaire raised a skeptical eyebrow at the half-closed basin of water, a wooden paddle wheel dipping into it from above. Beside it, connected to the paddles, a string of metal weights hung in a line held in place by a catch mechanism. A pulley connected them to the wheel through a series of string and gears, letting their movement to turn it. And most importantly, at the bottom of the basin lay a mercury thermometer, the best the city had been able to offer. “It’s a… waterwheel? Millers used to have some on the Sartaire to grind their flour, if they had Fenouille’s permission.”
Luce rolled his eyes. “It’s a measurement tool.”
“So I… you want me to turn the wheel with magic?”
“In a minute. Have to get a control first.” Luce released the catch, allowing the weights to begin dropping slowly as the thread connecting them to the paddles spooled out. “Not ideal laboratory conditions by any stretch, but if the difference is big enough to matter, it should still be noticeable.” The wheel turned as the weights fell, stirring up the water as they went.
Leclaire leaned back against the wall, looking bored. “If you’re trying to prove I can be replaced by a string of metal cubes, I think your model is a bit limited.”
“It’s not about replacement, it’s about setting a baseline.” Slowly, the mercury within the thermometer began to creep up, the kinetic energy of the paddle wheel heating up the water as it went. “Pay attention, by the way. You’ll want to match the speed.”
Once the weights reached the end of their thread, the wheel stopped. Luce wrote down the temperature it had reached, then reset the device. “There. 2 degrees, though by necessity it’s rounded. I’ll want to recreate this once I can get more granular measurement tools.”
“This is enthralling, Prince Grimoire. Malin is in excellent hands.”
Luce disconnected the weights from the pulley, allowing the paddle wheel to spin independently. “It’s a way to measure energy. The water, the weights, and the gravity that pulls them are all known quantities, so by looking at the ratio of what weight causes what increase in temperature, you can measure the energy it took to heat the water. If you can feel your energy reserves within you, and feel the difference once you turn the wheel enough to heat the water by the same two degrees, then we’ll know that it’s the same as what the weights exerted. It’ll let us quantify your reserves in martins, in real units we can convert and compare.”
“I’m not sure I see the point..” Leclaire waved her hand idly in a circle, swirling the water enough to move the paddle wheel on its own. Quickly, it reached the same speed the weights had exerted, then remained steady.
When the thermometer reached the same temperature, 2 degrees higher than its starting point, Luce signaled her to stop. “There, now keep careful track of how much energy you expended there. You said you have a keen awareness of the energy within you, right? Precise, exact?”
“Yes!”
Luce nodded. “Then the next step is to sacrifice something that will give you exactly that much back, or an exact multiple of it. We can get rougher if it’s really needed, but it makes the math harder.”
“That might involve some trial and error, to be honest. But that really wasn’t much. I’d guess maybe half a stick of incense, as a starting point? Could be less, honestly.”
“Incense?” Luce blinked. “I thought you said it had to be alive for you to sacrifice it.”
“At one point, not necessarily the moment of. Though the return is far better if it is.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why else would people offer things like incense and food to the spirits?”
“Superstition?” That earned him a glare despite his honesty, but he continued anyway. “As a starting point, try that when you next get the chance, then. But it looks like we’ll have to scale the experiment way up to get the level of detail we need.”
Irritating, not to have the answers now, but such was the way of things. There would always be more to test, more to build, more to write. “What was your news?”
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“I met with the spirit of the Sartaire, Fenouille.”
“Wait, I thought Uncle Miles killed that one. The giant spider thing that ate people, right?”
Leclaire narrowed her eyes, staring at him like she was ready to tear out his throat with her teeth. “That was Teruvo, who lived in the woods to the south. Despite your best efforts, Fenouille lives, as do a few others scattered around the outskirts of the city. It seems like he’d be willing to consider a deal with you.”
“I’m not making a deal with spirits.” Luce shook his head. “Too many ways to get tricked into a fate worse than death. Even Eloise agreed with that, when Cya was trying to get tricky with us.”
“When did—How?” Camille shook her head, eyes closed. “It doesn’t matter. Fenouille can help with food. He can infuse the banks with energy to grow things, even without the sun. It’s what he did during Khali’s rampage, due to his good relations with nearby sages.”
They can do that? Directly translating energy into growth had to be more efficient than circuitous workarounds using artificial lighting, even if the latter was still worthwhile to pursue for the benefits in reliability.
Leclaire smiled. “Thought that might catch your attention. He’s passing the word around to the others too, who might be able to offer you similar exchanges.”
Exchange… Of course, nothing without a cost. “What does he want? I’m not giving away any people. If it’s a net loss, then there’s no point in—”
“Nothing you can’t spare. Spiritual artifacts, mostly, a memento of departed friends and kin that your people mercilessly slaughter and bound. You’ve got to be able to spare a few of those.”
Luce breathed a sigh of relief. That might actually work. “If they can make more of a difference helping people—and I’d have to be sure that it would be worth it—I could be amenable to those terms, roughly. The problem, again, is fixing myself to a deal with a creature that would gladly condemn me to a fate worse than death.”
She patted him on the shoulder. “That’s what you have a Spiritual Liaison for. I’ll handle the details; don’t worry. Start with whatever you bound Pierrot into. If I can produce that, I can probably get the rest of them on board. You’ll want to get the new crops in the ground as soon as possible.”
“Well, I don’t have any here. Most binders took their trophies home after the war ended. They don’t even really belong to the royal family.”
Leclaire folded her arms, tilting her head up. “Are you the prince, or aren’t you? They’re not going to do anyone any good sitting in a dusty vault. Start with your uncle. That’s Lord Arion, right? The butcher of the Foxtrap? Have him send you whatever’s become of poor Teruvo and anyone else he killed back then.”
Luce blinked. Uncle would understand, if I explained it to him. Even in a letter.
I still need to tell him about Cassia…
“I’m still not committing to a deal with a creature that—”
“I’ll make the deal. Khali’s curse, Grimoire, I’ve been dealing with spirits since I was four, and Fenouille’s a friend. As were Pierrot and Teruvo. You don’t have to put your name to anything, just get me those artifacts.”
“Fine.” No skin off my bones if she traps herself in eternal torment. “I’ll start reaching out. It’ll still take time to transport them here, even if things go as well as they can in transit. We’re going to need faster solutions for warmth.” He scratched his chin as she turned towards the door. “Come to think of it, did you see how the woodcutters were progressing while you were out and about? Was everyone doing their job?”
“They were out there, alright, hacking away. They’re lucky Teruvo’s dead.” Leclaire looked back over her shoulder. “Can I give you some advice, Prince Grimoire?”
Ugh, now what? “Sure.” He pulled out his pad, trying to sketch out an appropriate test to recreate the experiment on a larger scale. Burning a log vs. sacrificing one, perhaps, as an indication of which carried greater efficiency…
“This isn’t really my business, but people are restless out there. You’ve been holed up in here for a while now, shouting orders through the door when you can spare a second to.”
“I’m working on saving all of them.” Luce grit his teeth. “Are you telling me to take time out of that to, what, give a speech? Clap them on the back and say it’s all going to be alright?”
“It’s not a terrible idea. People working for you can understand it well enough, but the ones out there are mostly hearing orders from Guardians when they hear anything at all.”
“An authority they know, as opposed to a stranger.”
“Uh… I suppose. It’s also an authority that’s been peddling Perimont’s orders for over a decade. People have been conditioned to distrust them, and they only obeyed out of fear. Isn’t that exactly what you’re trying to avoid with what you’re doing here?”
Luce sighed, leaning back in his chair. “It is. But this is a crisis; I don’t want to muddy the waters with some halfhearted speech to strangers ready to hate me. It’s not a good use of my time.” Time, just like everything else: always fading away, consumed by entropy. “Come back in a few hours and I should have some plans for the next experiment to run by you.”
She chuckled quietly. “‘Muddy the waters.’ Do you know what my name means, Prince Grimoire? I believe you know how to speak our language.”
“What?” Luce tilted his head at the non-sequitur. “Like, what does ‘Camille’ mean?”
“Leclaire,” she corrected with a shake of her head. “It means ‘the clear’. Clear eyed, a clear mandate, a clear path. It means not to let what’s inconvenient get in the way of what’s necessary.”
“Wait, shouldn’t it be ‘Laclaire’, or Leclair with no ‘e’ at the end? Because you have that weird thing with gendered words?”
“That’s your takeaway?” Leclaire blinked. “Castille of Onès founded the family, and she wasn’t much one for gender conformity. It makes it stand out more anyway. Names are weird, and that’s not the point.”
“Well, what is it, then?”
She sighed. “You know what you have to do here. I don’t know why you’re being so reluctant about a simple address to the public, but—”
“That was never supposed to be my job! I have Harold for that.” He inhaled. “Do you realize how scary it is to go before hundreds or thousands of people with a good reason to hate you and tell them that they could all die? That you have ideas that might work and might not, or it might all come apart anyway because fucking Khali defied the Great Binder’s prediction and crawled back out of her prison now?” Not to mention, making an official announcement like that would mean using my full name.
“Oh right, I almost forgot. Khali has nothing to do with this. As far as any spirit knows, she’s still trapped in her prison world.”
“Oh… So, was Soleil banished as well? Somehow?”
She scoffed. “He’s dead. I couldn’t tell you how, but Fenouille was positive. There’s a pull when the Arbiter of a domain dies, directing spirits to their seat of power to select a replacement.”
So it falls to the monsters that consume us for sustenance to return a sun to us. “That’s hardly reassuring. It just makes the work I’m doing all the more important.”
“Framed the right way, it could be reassuring. Most of them probably think it’s Khali, ready to wreak her revenge against us at any moment. At least this way, this is as bad as it gets.”
“As bad as it gets?” Luce stared her down. “It’s going to keep getting colder, forever, until a new sun is picked. If you think Terramonde can’t get to a point where it’s impossible to sustain human life, any life, you’re wrong.”
Leclaire shrugged. “That’s the way you think about it. Maybe some of the others out there, but I’d bet it’s not many. Tell them it’s not Khali; that much is definitely good news. Tell them the sun is coming back, even if we don’t know when. And tell them you have solutions in the works to ensure their food and warmth, because I do.”
Don’t think I didn’t notice that slip up at the end, there. He could never forget that this woman was an ally of convenience, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to turn against him if it would help her and her spirits.
Still, looking at it clearly, she had a point. “I’ll think about it.”
She nodded. “Until next time, then. I’ll be back in a few hours. I’ve some things to take care of, people to meet.” Her tone was casual, as if she were meeting friends to see the shops. “Find someone to practice with, before you go out. I always rehearsed with my uncle, or Lucien when I was little. It helps to know you can get the words out, first.”
“I will, thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Her hand pulled the knob to open the door. “At least you don’t have an angry spirit ready to jump you if you make a mistake. It’s pretty low stakes, honestly.” She took a step forward, but stopped.
Simon blocked the doorway, the first time he’d left his room since the Governor had died. “You,” he growled.
Leclaire bit her lip. “Why don’t you come in, Simon? Let’s talk about this.”
Fine, use my workshop to sort out your issues. “Do come in, Simon. Close the door and have a seat. We need to talk as it is.”