Solutions

Taylor sat and applied a measure of his will to the pit. The prayer to purify water had a deeper meaning, a foundational concept that could be put to many uses. A disciple who understood that, which was every Nexus disciple, could separate anything from anything. Living matter was difficult to work with, and solids had to be powdered or melted before they could be purified, but fluids were easy to manipulate this way. A glass of saltwater could be turned into salt and water with ease. A kettle of fine tea could be dehydrated, and the resulting powder stored for later use.

The same trick worked on air. What was normally a mix of nitrogen, oxygen, and traces of other gasses, could be turned into an atmosphere of pure nitrogen. Anisca had learned what that was like, and now he wanted to do the same to Darkmaw. But filling an enclosed room with nitrogen was fairly simple compared to maintaining a zone of altered air in an open space: fluid liked to flow, and for every liter of oxygen he pulled out of the pit, another liter of mixed air wanted to rush in. He could, in theory, turn the entire pit into a partial vacuum but the power requirements were astounding. The math said so, and Taylor's faith in math was equal to his faith in magic.

The most ridiculous aspect of the task was he had to credibly perform it alone. He'd talked himself into that particular corner with the phrase "once I've killed Darkmaw" and there was no one else to blame. He spent all his pre-dawn hours trying different ideas, and learned techniques that either wouldn't work at all or would be impossible to maintain. When inspiration finally arrived it took the usual form: Taylor realized he was being an idiot.

"Giving up already?" Ma'Tocha had been acting as his guard because Taylor was too occupied to power his own bulwark. She had brought her own people to watch over him, including the intriguing Harrence. The former farmer's gaze was far afield as if some object had caught his fascination.

"I'm not giving up. I'm resting until the conditions are more favorable."

"I hope you know you've come up with something properly terrifying." She shook a glass vial full of dead flies. "A quiet death to anything that breathes. I'm impressed."

"Wait a minute. How did you catch so many flies all of a sudden?"

"Oh, this? I spent some time in the Bracken Wastes. You either learn to deal with flies, or you learn to live while being covered in them."

"And? Are you going to share this special knowledge? I showed you how to make glass."

"And I paid you for it."

Taylor held up a triangular brass coin: eight bits. "And I'll pay the same for the flycatching trick."

"Keep your coin," huffed the storied disciple. "Kill the monster and we'll call it even."

"That's not even." Taylor's voice rose in mock complaint. "That's you owing me a ton of bits!"

People came and went as sunrise neared. They took away the Nexus resting area and replaced it with a smaller shelter for a few people, right at the edge, and stocked it with a few necessities. It would keep the sun off of him during his extended battle with Darkmaw. Taylor stretched and ran through sword drills while he waited for the sun to rise: it might be the last exercise he got for a while. Milo brought breakfast, and Alice and Otavio checked on him in that overly parental manner that he didn't hate. Taylor killed a couple of hours composing music. The proper time came when the day was properly hot. For the first time since coming to south Kravikas, Taylor wished the day was even hotter, but it was good enough. He put his instrument away while Milo tidied up the space around him.

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Taylor tried again. He shaped his prayer's effect in a thick layer across the top of Darkmaw's jail. His insight was he didn't need to alter the air inside the trap: he only had to put a filtering layer on top of it. Air could flow freely going up through the barrier, but only nitrogen was permitted to flow down through it. Convection would do the rest of the work for him. The northern wall of the pit, heated by the sun, warmed the nearby air and caused it to rise. That action drew fresh air down through the filter, and the nitrogen content inside the pit steadily increased.

It took about one one-hundredth the effort of his first attempts, and was the kind of elegant solution he both loved and could feel smug about. Once he had the effect firmly in place, he glanced at Ma'Tocha from the corner of his eye. She wasn't watching him, but was observing the way he worked his spirit.

"Very clever, Brother. Do you mind if I speed this up a bit?"

"Not at all, Sister. Be my guest."

Ma'Tocha summoned a steady downdraft along the southern edge of the vast hole, a prayer that required considerable strength and was meant to speed up sailing vessels. She invoked it silently, another technique she had learned from Taylor with little effort. Once he taught her instant prayer, there wouldn't be much left to show her. She was a master in her own right, one whose only limits were some preconceptions inherited from her old church.

Before the resting hours of the day were over, the monster's living darkness was snuffed out. The massive creature lay limply, her tail and belly flat on the ground, her legs folded beside her. Despite appearances, she wasn't dead. Taylor knew it took a week to drown a scorpion (he had experimented) but a monster like Darkmaw might take a month to suffocate to death. Fortunately, Taylor only needed to weaken her.

A stream of people came up the hill to gawk at her anew, collapsed among the grieving ashes and the angry weapons, and left again in hopeful silence. Nexus people kept space between him and any visitors so his concentration wouldn't slip. The sun set, and Milo put a blanket around his shoulders. The stars wheeled, and Crevist's yellow arch climbed the sky, chased by faster Boraz which passed it by. The desert went to sleep and woke again with different life. Disciples and their bulwarks watched over him but didn't interact except to bring food and water. The nighttime creatures settled in their dens and eries, and Parsa came to visit.

The jimala was in his human form, thin and long-limbed, with dark cream skin and a head of long white hair. He didn't speak at all. He sat near Taylor and shared the quiet hour of the night with him, then left after the morning-bird's first call. Taylor had to stand and work the cold and aches out of his body with slow-motion spear drills. He stood and warmed himself in the sunlight, which cast his giant shadow against the farthest wall.

Darkmaw wasn't dead, but he was making progress.

Mid-morning brought new news. "Harrence says the Satomen are coming," Ma'Tocha warned him, "all of them. Maul Kourosh intends to kill the monster and steal your glory. He thinks the gardens will make him Pasha and he can take as many wives as he wants. He also hates you. A lot."

"I guess that's one way to solve a problem. Call up all the Nexus people, but let's not interfere with them unless they attack us. Also, it would be good to have Calique witnesses for this."

"That won't be a problem. Everyone who is anyone is on their way."

"Good. Good." Taylor rolled his shoulders and checked his filter. Everything was still firmly in place.

"Who are the Satomen," Ma'Tocha asked him, "and what's their problem with you?"

"Ask Inez when she gets here. She has the full story." Taylor had spied them once or twice, just the two of them, hanging out. The subject of the Satomen had never come up between them, which made him wonder just how much they had to talk about. "Oh, and one more thing. When the time comes, there's no need to offer mercy to the Satomen."