“How does it work?” El asked, eyeing the artifact.
“It can be used one of two ways,” Sigrid replied. “A strand can be taken and released to perform a magical effect, such as reconstructing a building, revitalizing dead magics, or even clearing and preparing farm land. Or the strand can be crafted into a candle. Any such candle made of a strand can be burned, and those nearby will receive the [Wisdom of their Grandmothers] gaining insights on how to obtain skills and classes.”
A susurrus went up among the goblins as they discussed the miraculous abilities just described. No artifact so powerful had survived the cataclysm that broke the ancient world; this thing their grandmother had created was a true miracle indeed.
“You implied earlier that there are things it can’t do,” Oict said. “What would that be?”
“Destruction, war, and harm,” Sigrid explained. “This is a device of love, and love builds up rather than tears down.”
The goblins nodded at that, it made sense.
“Then what we need to do is decide on what has to be built first, and what can wait,” En said to the gathered goblins.
“Farms,” suggested El immediately. “We’ve got precious few months of growing time left; even with the totems it’s going to be close.”
“Homes and sewers,” Oict said a moment later. “Camping in the plaza is all well and good, but we’ve no where to put waste, and all the facilities we’ve found so far are basically non-functional; their either clogged or whatever mechanism ran them no longer functions. We’ve had to pick a building and use it.”
“The city wells should be cleaned too,” Guilk, head of Clan Gror, continued. “They’ve been out of use so long who knows what might have gotten into them.”
Blohx, head of Clan Agz looked up from where she was examining the quipu. “I think we need to dedicate some of the strands to reconstructing the old magics of the city. The knots say that they will restore ‘flowing water’, ‘cool and warm breezes’, and places to cook. It even seems there was some kind of magic for cleaning, but it’s unclear on how that worked.”
“Then there’s the city walls and gates,” En said, having written down all the suggestions. “If the City States send an army or other force against us, we’ll want those functional.” The other four nodded in agreement. “How many strands are on the artifact?”
“One hundred and nineteen,” Blohx replied, clearly having already counted them. “Not counting the one already used today.”
“Then let’s prioritize. Today we need sewage, water, and farms. If we can fit in more, we will, if not, then tomorrow will be homes and walls, then finally these grand city magics,” En prioritized. The other four clan heads looked at each other, seeming to silently consider the proposal, then nodded each in turn.
The first to take a strand was Oict, he held it reverently for a moment and then held it above his head as Sigrid had done, focusing his will and intent on it. “Sewers,” he muttered, then released it.
The stranded floated above him, glowing brilliant emerald, but doing nothing else, something was missing.
“Perhaps it needs more than one strand?” Oict suggested. “The sewers cover the entire city after all, and as we’ve seen it’s very large. Further, if there were magics woven into even just cleaning, they may have magical effects too that it needs to revitalize.”
El nodded, plucking another strand and setting it floating with the first, still nothing happened, so he added another, and another. It wasn’t until fifty-two strands were floating above his head that they activated, beginning a complex interweaving dance of strands before they slowly came undone, their magic bursting downward into the ground. For a brief moment the entire network of drains, pipes, and absurdly spacious tunnels was visible through the ground as the green energy worked upon it. Then the magic seemed to reach further, showing grand reservoirs and deep wells. There was a rumble, and a slight shaking of the ground before the magic settled and the vision dissipated. Moments later shrieks of childish delight could be heard from the plaza.
The goblins raced to the doors to see what was going on, for many of the children had wandered outside to play. The sight that greeted them brought them up short however, for the once dry fountains that had dotted the plaza had sprung to life. For their part the children thought it was the greatest thing in the world, and had immediately run into the spraying water to play. Seeing there was no danger the adults relaxed, although a few dozen [Grandchildren] and [Helper]s decided to stay outside to watch over the younglings even as the rest of the grownups headed back inside.
“It seems flowing water was inextricably linked to the sewers,” Blohx said as they gathered around the [Quipu of Keeping] once more. “But it does solve the problem of wells as well, so I think we can call it a win.
“Then that leaves us with farms, and whatever else we can get today,” En said, as she crossed sewers and wells off the list.
“Ogg, Eyts, Arym,” Oict called, and three older goblins pushed their way through the crowd. “You three were farm hands right? You know what needs to be done to clear land and prepare soil?”
“Yep,” Ogg replied, “Take it you want us to take some strands and get to work?”
Oict nodded. “Take ten each, if it’s not enough come back for more,” the clan leader instructed. “Anyone else with farming experience should go with them; take whatever seed we have and the farming totems, we need to get planting as soon as possible.”
The three named goblins each reverently plucked ten strands from the quipu, then turned to leave, almost a hundred other goblins in tow behind them.
“As for the rest of us, let’s spread out and figure out which buildings we should resurrect first,” El suggested.
Sigrid pursed her lips. “Look for buildings with large bases, and that seem to have once had more than one ground floor. They will likely have many living areas in them.”
“What, like a tenement building?” Guilk asked.
“Not quite. In my world we called them ‘apartment buildings’, and they contained what you might think of as small houses. Usually a common room attached to a small kitchen, a bathroom, and two to four bedrooms,” she explained. “They could reach many stories high and house dozens of families. Many of the buildings we saw on the way in looked much like truncated versions; likely destroyed in whatever cataclysm drove your people from this city.”
The goblins exchanged looks, many of them confused by, or shrugging at, the foreign concept. But if Grandmother said it was, then it must be so. Thus, with her words in mind they set out to examine the nearby buildings, looking for places to call home.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
—
The farmers had required another ten strands each, leaving only nine on the quipu, not enough for more buildings that first day. However, those sixty strands performed a marvelous work and a wonder. When combined their power cleared away dozens of acres of forest, leaving behind pristine farmland, already tilled and prepared for seed.
Unfortunately, the extra expenditure of strands had meant that only nine remained, so it was decided that they should wait for the next day to continue the city’s reconstruction.
As the sun rose over the Gritmere, the [Yarn of Yarns] glowed brilliantly and seemed to unspool itself, the thick strands weaving into the [Quipu of Keeping] and restoring the lost lines of knotted stories. Contrary to normal physics, the ball of yarn became no smaller; it seemed that when a strand was used the grandmothers simply returned to the yarn, perhaps to rest and recuperate for later expenditures of power.
Once more the goblins met in the [Hall of Grandmothers] and discussed their options. Many, many buildings like the one Sigrid had described had been found. It seemed the original population of the city had been high indeed, which raised a lot of questions as to how it had kept itself fed; but those were set aside for the moment in favor of more practical matters, such as getting the apartments up and running.
This time, each of the five clan heads took twenty strands, and almost as one the goblins walked out to the apartment complexes that had been designated for reconstruction. It was an entire street twenty-six buildings in all.
En marched up to the first building and released her strands. “Rebuild,” she implored. The strands swirled about in a helix and then shimmered into a burst of power that flowed over not one but two structures. The magic started at the base, outlining the once-towers, then slowly made it’s way up. Where it passed the grungy, gray stone became the same pristine white as the [Hall of Grandmothers] and the pitted scored surface was made whole. Windows and doors were restored to the gaping openings, and when it finally reached the broken off and melted top it continued upward, growing like an organic thing. One story, two, three, four, five stories in total for each building.
The crowd of watching goblins watched in stunned disbelief. They had intellectually understood that what Sigrid had said about tall towers, but none had ever seen a building over three stories, and even that rarely. It was simply too expensive and hard to build. How did such a structure stand without falling down? What magic made this possible?
After a moment, the first few goblins started to move forward, only to be stopped by the clan heads.
“We can’t all rush in at once,” En said. “There’s not enough room for everyone. We’ll send a few people into each building to examine them, and then when they report we’ll know how many more we need to raise.”
There was grumbling, but none of it seriously discontented; it was mostly just people annoyed at not getting to immediately see the shiny new thing.
Ten goblins were chosen to go in and examine the new buildings, a task that was expected to take maybe ten to fifteen minutes. It took them over an hour, and when they came back out the grumbling turned from mere annoyance to outrage, for the twenty goblins were wet but clean of grit and grime, and grinning like loons.
The five clan leaders glared at their scouts. “Report,” Oict snapped waspishly.
“There are twenty-five apartments in each building, with four rooms each, a communal room, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. Each of the bathrooms has flowing water and get this, there’s a device that makes warm rain on command! It’s really heavy rain too, great for getting dirt off!” One of the goblins said, his tone and grin clearly indicating that he knew he was just riling up the crowd.
Sigrid facepalmed. Of course there were showers, why wouldn’t there be?
Blohx took a deep breath, and said through clenched teeth. “Just about eighteen or twenty more buildings then. That means we won’t have enough for every family until tomorrow. For now, why don’t we start cycling people through these rain makers. I’m sure we’d all enjoy getting clean.”
There were yells of assent from the crowd, and they surged forward, only for them to be pushed back by glares from their leaders.
“We will do this in a civilized manner!” Oict shouted. “Twenty-five people at a time! No more than ten minutes per person. I will personally come in and drag out anyone who takes longer. Now make two lines for each building! We will divide the lines as new buildings become available!”
There was more angry grumbling, but the gathered goblins began to shuffle into four very long lines even as Oict passed his quipu strands off to En who moved to raise the next set of buildings, even while the other three clan heads chose buildings of their own. In short order ten buildings had been raised. Though it was a few hours before all the goblins had managed to get their showers, then came the arduous task of retrieving their children from the plaza and getting them clean as well.
That night all the goblins crammed into the ten apartment buildings; two families to an apartment made it cramped quarters, but they were all happy to be out of the street. The addition of magical lighting, stoves that heated on command, and bathroom facilities made it all even better; especially once they figured out the bidet and drying functions.
And so, the second night in Gritmere passed.
—
It was the next morning while the adults conferred on the steps of the [Hall of Grandmothers] that disaster struck. From one of the unexplored side buildings came a rush of animals. Lizards with cat faces and Alpacas with cages strapped to their backs. They rushed into the mobs of children playing in the nearby plaza and immediately set about themselves. The lizard creatures generated bright flashes of electrical discharge which dropped nearby children with screams of pain and fright while the alpacas somehow scooped them up with seemingly prehensile necks and deposited them in the cages.
The few priests who had been entertaining the younglings moved immediately to intervene, spoons appearing in their hands and falling upon the creatures. More than one fled in remorse, and they managed to down two of the alpacas carrying children; but another ten of the creatures got away with their precious cargo.
Quick as they had come the monsters retreated back into the building; the only signs of their existence being a few of their dead, the shocked, hurt, and scared goblins, and the missing children.
Sigrid rushed down the steps of the hall, running for the entrance to the building the monsters had fled into, but when she arrived, the doorway was gone, nothing but a blank wall greeted her. In frustration she pounded against it, only to be shoved out of the way by several of the [Knitwork Knights] who walked right through it as if it wasn’t there.
“An illusion,” she realized aloud. And a powerful one if it can fool even my [Divine Senses].
It wasn’t going to stop her though.
“[Open]!” she commanded with all the authority of a deity. Her divinity didn’t even dip, and nothing happened. Whatever this magic was, it was greater than her power. “[OPEN]!” she yelled at it again in futile denial. Then a green hand appeared from the wall and grabbed her wrist, yanking her forward and through.
She looked down at the knight who had grabbed her in surprise but neither of them bothered to say anything, just hurtling forward to where the rest of the knights waited by an arched gateway that lead down into the earth. Moments after they entered an angry and scared voice could be heard from the doorway.
“Where’s Anx?!” Skree all but shouted.
Sigrid whipped around to look at him, the reached out to that sense of her grandchildren, finding the ties to the little girl. It lead… somewhere, the best she could explain it was a fold or twist in reality. She didn’t know what that meant, but it couldn’t be good.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But we’re going to find her!”
“Not without me you’re not!” the totem shaman said belligerently, forgetting in his fear and anger to play up the yokel accent.
Sigrid eyed him critically. She hated the idea of taking him anywhere dangerous. Hells, she hated the idea of taking any of the goblins anywhere dangerous. But this was his sister, and he was old enough to make his own decisions; by right of all he’d endured if not by age alone.
“Fine, but you’re wearing an [Armor of Love],” she declared.
One of the knights helpfully held out a knit hat. Skree grabbed it and shoved it on his head, then marched forward toward the stairs. Sigrid put a hand out to stop him. “You are a mage,” she said sternly. “Mages stay at the back. The knights will lead.”
Skree gave her a mulish look, but she met it with her own firm, no-nonsense glare. He broke eye contact first, and she nodded.
“[Don’t Make Me Get The Spoon],” she intoned, calling forth her divine weapon, even as the knights enlarged needles into true weapons. “Let’s move,” she said, pointing to the archway.
Immediately the knights marched through, two at a time, and when all six of them were through Sigrid and Skree followed.