“Karlas —
“Many thanks for the documents you sent along. Really a treasure trove of Last Era information, even if nine tenths of it was compiled during the collapse. At least the redactors had firsthand insights into Last Era practices and the presence of mind to write them down. A sword can kill a Chimera, but the pen can make sure we know why Chimeras exist — and, once the sword has done its work, how to keep them from ever reappearing.
“I’m still curious if you’ve found anything out about Last Era Gentes during the clearing and excavation. The Governing Board is pushing hard for any new information, and we’re still pretty much in the dark. Have you found anything about how their ruling classes chose Keys for their technologies? Tutela bloodlines outside the main family lines would have been more likely to survive than over-gengineered ruling Magi…”
—Letter from Inquirer Morrison of the Free City of Hallard to Inquirer Karlas, 1885 CE
----
Thorssel Palace of Governance, Ducal Chambers
Rising Blooming 14, 1885 CE
Dorsin turned the tiny vial over and over in his hand as he considered his options. Such a little thing; such a high price. Had they paid it in vain? That was the question.
To be sure, there was no arguing with the utility of the Last Era data his daughter had managed to decrypt, and within this very vial there waited the chemical composition for a weapon unlike any they had ever encountered before. It could turn the tide of the war if they deployed it properly. But was it worth the cost?
Not merely the cost of Tvorh. He was both an unfortunate loss and a crippling one, simultaneously an innocent bystander and the greatest threat to the continued existence of Gens Nethress, but Dorsin was dimly surprised to find that the ever-encroaching shadow of Gens Nxtlu troubled him less than the sight of his daughter standing in the corner of the room, hugging her arms across her chest, unwilling to meet his gaze. Dorsin had had decades to grow used to the idea of the destruction of his bloodline, but he’d never once considered the possibility of the destruction of his daughter’s heart.
But there was another cost. The weapon that he could build with this data was an abomination, a blasphemy. When one held in one’s hands the ability to unmake a Magus’s Symbiont, render him entirely mortal, one considered the option slowly and seriously.
Of all the things for the inquirers of the Last Era to be working on in their final weeks, this had been one of their highest priorities. It seemed mad, yet that was a mystery that could wait. Dorsin had to bear the burdens of today before he could take up the burdens of two millennia past.
Oralie, seated across from him, caught his gaze. When their eyes met, she reached across the table and took his hands in her own. In that moment, for the first time in years, Dorsin felt as old as he was, as old as he would have been if not for the SOPHIOS that lived within him.
As old as Oralie looked.
“They were waiting for us,” Senrii muttered. “Blood, bile, and bone. They knew all along to expect us.”
Dorsin knew what Senrii was thinking. Had he not felt it himself, not so long ago? To be a leader of men was also to be responsible for them, and Senrii, he knew, had grown to appreciate Tvorh’s company in the short time they had together.
“Senrii,” Dorsin said softly, “I was not always a great commander.”
She looked up at him, then, and met his gaze briefly before dropping her eyes back to the floor.
A gentle tapping on the table and the rasp of paper in motion drew Dorsin’s attention back to his wife. She raised her eyebrows as she indicated the document before him. Dorsin shook his head. “Most of it only confirms what we already know.”
Oralie pressed her lips together and nodded. She had told him this morning that in her dreams she had stood next to Rosabella on a blasted silver plain under the unrelenting gaze of a pair of suns. What she told him next the letter from Rosabella had only confirmed.
The Ambassatrix had succeeded in winning the confidence of Gens Nxtlu sufficiently to take secret oaths to the family. She was stepping lightly around sharp-eyed, paranoid Dux Ilhicamina, but her contact was very forthcoming (knowing Rosabella, in more ways than one). However, she had no information on whether Tvorh had been caught in the destruction of the Archives or had fallen into the hands of the enemy.
It would be better for him to have died, Dorsin thought. And for Gens Nethress.
But if Gens Nxtlu knew that Nethress would make a play for the Archives, they also knew of the boy’s import. It was too much to hope that he had perished. The letter from Rosabella said as much. The Rosabella in Oralie’s dreams had said as much. And now? Oh, the wicked decisions a prince must make. Spend Rosabella on saving one child, or keep her as a hidden dagger pointed at Nxtlu’s heart?
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“Erus,” Piotr said as he entered the chamber and placed a sheaf of papers in front of the Dux. A breeze from the open balcony ruffled the stone-skinned man’s onyx hair.
“Thank you, Piotr.” Dorsin drew the maps from the folder and began to spread them across the table. Then he took up Rosabella’s letter, consulting it as he made marks on the maps.
“What are those?” Senrii asked, her voice dull.
“Our inside woman was kind enough to pass along as much data as she could about the Nxtlu war machine,” Dorsin said as he worked. “Legion positions and movements, laboratories and prisons.” He glanced up at Oralie, who met his gaze with a weak smile. The Rosabella in her dreams had not shared such information with her. Decades of experience had taught them that their odd, degraded form of Synapsis was an inadequate medium for such precise accounting.
“Why?” Senrii shrugged hopelessly.
Dorsin stood and put his arms on Senrii’s shoulders. “Because we have not yet lost,” he said. “And if there is a chance to rescue your friend, then we will take it.”
Oh, what lies he told for family!
Senrii sounded small. Fearful. Mournful. “He’s dead. Or worse.”
“If he is dead, or worse, then blame the responsible party.” As Senrii opened her mouth, Dorsin cut her off gently. “Gens Nxtlu. Blame the monsters who took him from you. But never, never, never blame yourself. You are my daughter, Senrii. The blood that flows in your veins is the blood of honor.” He smiled. “And despair does not become you.”
Senrii’s face crumpled, and she leaned forward into her father’s chest. Sobs wracked her body, and Dorsin wrapped his arms around her. Then arms were embracing them both, and the scent of Oralie’s perfume drew Dorsin’s mind to a sweeter, simpler past.
“Okay,” Senrii whispered at last, drawing away and wiping her eyes. “So what do we do? Mount a rescue operation?”
Ah. The fruits of the lies had already begun to rot. Dorsin shook his head. “We have no information on Tvorh’s whereabouts, or whether he even survived.”
“If they got him, Daddy, we both know where they took him.”
“If he is in the Libraratory, then Nxtlu doubtless is as well, and they will have reinforced it. We would need an army.”
“Then get one!”
“And if he is not there, then will we assault Acerbia, draw the whole Gens into war, for nothing?”
“Fine. Get some spies looking for him.”
“I have already set our resources to this task. Be patient. If he is there to find, we will find him.”
Senrii gave him a long look and nodded stiffly. That was easier than Dorsin had expected. Reaping the lie so often resulted in greater troubles. It was clear Senrii wasn’t thinking clearly; on a normal day, she never would have allowed Dorsin to transform an oath to rescue her friend into a claim that the family was already doing all it could, and not to expect miracles.
“Then what do we do?”
Dorsin turned back to the table. “We used what we have already found to gain as much of an advantage as possible.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that it is time for us to find out what, precisely, you stole from Nxtlu. You liberated two sets of data during your Prime Assay, Senrii, and your second mission solved the secrets of one of those sets. Prepare yourself for a third mission to solve the other.” Dorsin pointed to a spot on the map. “Here. We will draw and capture a Key near to our Greenbelt estates. Accordingly to Rosabella, they maintain a legion in underground laboratories two hundred miles from Milhicuatl. Sufficient to be led by Generosi, but not overwhelming in force.”
A chuckle from Piotr drew Dorsin’s attention. “What is it, old friend?”
Piotr was smiling good-naturedly at Senrii. “Erus, your daughter was complaining in Acerbia that she was disallowed from using the higher-function Tools there. I told her that it would have been an unacceptable security risk for her to have access. Now it appears that she will receive an object lesson in why.”
Senrii jabbed out an elbow, catching Piotr in the stomach. When she struck the forgebone plating Stigmata that he bore, she winced and drew back her arm. He merely smiled more deeply.
Dorsin growled. “Again, the Tools fail on my family line?”
Piotr cocked his head. “Erus—”
“My father spcifically informed me over a decade ago that the Acerbia Archive Tools were Keyed to our bloodline. Had I known then that they would fail us, I would have seen personally to their re-Keying.”
“Not to worry, Erus. My blood sufficed.”
“You’re a Tutela,” Senrii said through gritted teeth. “It’s supposed to suffice.”
Dorsin sighed. “I will have to discuss this with the Princeps. He cannot expect my family to operate with only sporadic access to our Tools. But that is a different matter. Piotr makes a worthwhile point, Senrii. Gens Nxtlu would never stoop so low as to allow any bloodline of mere unBlooded to Key a Tool. And when they centralize their authority in themselves, we profit.”
“Yeah, I know. That was my secondary objective. Capture a Key.”
“So, as Piotr says, you are about to see firsthand why we do as we do with our Tutela bloodlines, rather than following Nxtlu’s model.” Dorsin turned back to the map. “As I was saying, a full legion, with Generosus support. Mimus Tor is close enough to Aalhus, Stunakuul, and Borborg for us to call in support from the rest of the Gens.”
“And after that, we’ll find Tvorh?”
“We will do everything in our power for Tvorh, Senrii. But intelligence like this cannot be rushed without the loss of further assets. Our first priority must be the decryption of the Nxtlu data that you exfiltrated.” Dorsin sighed. “The General Principles must bow before the specific one. Our family must survive. Is this acceptable to you, Senrii?”
“I want those bastards to pay.”
“Good. Piotr.”
“Erus.”
“Send missives to the Duxes. Inform them of my planned presence in Mimus Tor for an inspection of our secret weapons facilities, as described herein.” He handed over a slip of paper. “With minimal guard, of course.” He paused. “Send one likewise to Rosabella.”
“Father.”
“Yes, Senrii?”
“They were waiting for us.”
Dorsin waited patiently.
“In the Archives. They waited. They knew we were coming.”
Dorsin raised his eyebrows.
Senrii looked at him like he was an idiot. “There’s a mole, Dad. If you send this to everyone, the mole will leak it.”
Dorsin smiled. “Of course, Senrii. I’m counting on it.”