After that, Mirian committed to laying low. She attended classes like any dutiful student, pretending to take notes while she worked on ideas for improvements to her leyline analysis artifacts, spell engine design, and ways she might create unified celestial and arcane devices. So far, her actual experimentation with combining glyphs and runes had led mostly to whatever she was working on catching on fire. Her leading hypothesis was that arcane runes operated on a similar rule to the way flux glyphs and static glyphs worked; some runes were inherently unstable, and changed functions based on what was near them.
The problem was she still only knew a handful of runes, compared to the hundreds and hundreds of glyphs she knew. And experimenting was both time consuming and expensive. Since she was trying not to cause a stir, she had to keep her budget reasonable. She also had to be subtle about harvesting the local myrvites for soul energy. That further limited her, because there was only so much you could do with a bone-rat and prism moth souls. Half the runes she knew couldn’t even be formed by such weak souls.
A big focus, then, became how the Akanan airship worked.
Antigravity glyphs were key, obviously; it was so much more efficient than using a force spell. Yet while she knew how her wand of levitation had done it, and had applied that to her seeds of chaos design, it wasn’t so easy to lift something as bulky as an airship. Her first idea had involved just having an antigravity sequence in the core of the ship, like with her seeds of chaos.
However, her seeds of chaos spun around wildly because there was nothing to stabilize them. That was fine for what was essentially a lightweight incendiary. Put a person on something like that, though, and they’d be dumped overboard immediately. Strap them in, and they’d probably die of nausea. It would also wreck the aerodynamics of the ship, sort of like trying to sail a boat sideways.
So she tried two antigravity sequences, and while the result didn’t flail about wildly, it did spin like the axle of a carriage. That was great for bullets being fired from a rifled barrel; not so much for an airship.
Three antigravity sequences gave her tiny wooden model airship great stability. It also burned the fossilized myrvite fuel in record time.
Well, I guess that’s why it took people a while to make airships, even after they figured out levitation, Mirian thought, after her prototype that tried to spread out the applied antigravity force to the hull crashed into the ground. At least this one didn’t catch on fire, she thought, but as soon as she approached it, the glyphs started sparking and the artifact burst into flames. She sneered at it.
Professor Torres had gotten her several pieces of key information about the airships. The wings were important, and were doing something to stabilize the vehicle. Obviously. The force was spread out, but somehow, there was only one engine. However, while the research professor Torres had talked to had been happy to show off the interior of the flying yacht, he hadn’t shown her the engine room, and most of the glyph sequences were hidden behind panels, or inside locked spell engines. She could say conceptually what each piece of the airship did, but that was nearly useless for actually building one that could transport a person across the Rift Sea.
Mirian began to conceive of another plan.
She couldn’t help herself. Airships were, objectively, the coolest artifacts around. And they would be incredibly useful. So somehow, she needed to set up a situation where the Akanans would be willing to share airship designs.
Fort Aegrimere had airships. Some other forts probably did, too. The Arcane Praetorians had airships. Those airships were fine for short-range reconnaissance, or emergency extractions or insertions. Anything they could do, though, she could do with a levitation wand. She needed the Akanan airships, because they’d made some sort of breakthrough Baracuel hadn’t.
Which, of course, was why it was a highly protected state secret.
But Sulvorath was having that state secret delivered straight to her doorstep now.
She was beginning to reconsider her tactics.
Meanwhile, Mirian got a crash-course in academic politics, which turned out to be as infuriating and nonsensical as regular politics. She had absolutely no desire to learn about the personal lives of the Akanan professors, but it turned out petty grudges and serrated gossip weren’t just the domain of her girlfriends in preparatory school. The professors made even a rumormonger like Valen look like an amateur.
It seemed that Specter was the one who ordered the second assassination attempt on Jei if the first one failed. Or, perhaps the orders from Agent Hache changed because suddenly his own people were now part of the Divine Monument research project. Or maybe Sulvorath had intervened, even though he usually didn’t do that. Either way, Mirian had worked with Jei to prepare her home with defenses and gotten Torres to stand watch, but it had turned out to be unnecessary.
Instead, Mirian and Jei chatted inside a secure area of the Artificer’s Tower to avoid the new Akanan eavesdropping devices.
Jei was laying out her understanding in her usual stiff tone. “…and so the older academic takes partial credit for all research done by the younger academic. This is considered beneficial to the younger academic because the older academic is introducing them to networks of colleagues, or is able to exchange the accolades they would earn for additional resources. Refusal to play this game is highly detrimental to their career, as the older academics, especially those interested in prestige, monopolize the hiring committees. It is far more effective to advance your career by making friends with the Archmage—or Provisional Archmage, if no one in the institution is powerful enough for that title—than it is to do novel research.”
Mirian made a gagging noise.
“Indeed,” Jei said. “There are exceptions, of course. Also, if you are a genius, or you can make allies with older academics outside the usual channels, you can often bypass a parasitic academic.”
“Yeah. It’s still… stupid. It doesn’t even… I mean, isn’t the point of research to advance human knowledge? To create the technologies that will make a better world?”
Jei sighed. “You are now too worldly to believe that. Do you believe the Torrviol Guard exists to uphold the law? Do you believe Parliament seeks primarily to represent the people of Baracuel?”
“Ugh. None of it works the way it’s supposed to work. Did it ever?”
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“You should read the works of Zhuan Li. She was doing research on political theory, but to greatly summarize her work, the answer is, ‘probably never.’ She said… hmm. I cannot remember. It was something about how elite control of a political system requires an ‘ideology of internal rationalization.’ I am not sure if that term translates well. Regardless, I chose to mostly avoid political maneuvering. It was… how do you say ‘cannot concentrate’?”
“Distracting?”
“It was distracting. But Torres and I have analyzed the social relations of these Akanans. They are smart, but parasitic. I doubt they will add much to the Monument research.”
“So most of these researchers have big names because of work their junior professors and apprentices have done?”
“Correct. Except for Archmage Tyrcast. This is not to say that Tyrcast is not a parasite; he has benefited greatly from an army of apprentices and a great deal of resources that have been poured into his projects by Akana’s government and his wife’s joint stock company. However, I must regretfully inform you he is also smart.”
“Regretfully?”
“I am Zhighuan,” Jei said simply.
Mirian sneered. “Oh. That fucker. He really…?”
“I do not like discussing it. But you should know.”
“Ugh! Why do Akanans always have their heads so far up their asses?”
Jei started thinking about that. “If the head is… hmm. So they cannot see. Ah, it is like the Zhighuan phrase, ‘they stare at the sun because they think it is their only equal.’”
Mirian laughed. “Sounds about right.”
“Zhuan would probably say that you cannot subjugate a people you think is your equal.”
“I guess so. So what should I know about this Tyrcast?”
“Rich. Well connected. Luspire believes he actually can only reach 98.4 myr when casting, but the detectors they used for his trial were deliberately miscalibrated. This is a point of pride for Luspire.”
Another expert in gossip. “And you said he’s an expert in spell engines?”
“Yes.”
“So perhaps Sulvorath seeks to use him to make divination engines to hunt for me. Or maybe he’s looking to develop the speed or efficacy of existing airship engines so he can cut down travel times, and that’s easier to do if he’s here. Or maybe he just wants a counterbalance so I can’t just sic Luspire on him when he’s not expecting it and ruin an entire loop.”
“It could also be to lay the foundation for a more successful invasion.”
Mirian tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Yes, though I don’t see why they’d need that. Or, maybe it’s to stop Cearsia from blowing up the Monument. A goal I don’t actually oppose. Well, keep monitoring their efforts. They haven’t made any clear moves yet?”
“There have been a lot of long meetings where nothing has been said. The assistant, Troytin, looked very frustrated with it all. But he did not speak during the meetings. He kept looking at me in a way that was very obvious, so I asked him why he was looking at me, and he muttered some slurs in Akanan that he must think I don’t understand.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. He knows you from the previous time loops, where you helped kill him. So… you can take solace in that, I guess.”
Jei nodded, and rose to her feet. “I think he believes you are absent, and can take his time crafting a new sequence of events. I have another meeting to get to. I will contact you if there are any major developments.”
***
Not much continued to happen.
When she got Nicolus’s letter by zephyr falcon, it turned out his father didn’t even get a message from the other time traveler. Though he did confirm Marduke Sacristar was making legally dubious moves (a bit of light treason), Specter’s files had already told her that. She felt bad, because apparently all he’d done is send Nicolus down to suffer his father for a month. At least his death won’t be so painful this cycle, she knew.
Sulvorath seemed at first to just be gathering information, but then train shipments started showing up with more fossilized myrvite and dry food than they normally did.
Mirian pondered the purpose of it. He still intends the Akanan army to attack Torrviol. Only, the quick thrust outpaces its own supply lines, so he’s making a forward stockpile for them right under our noses.
Is that why Cearsia blows up the Monument? Because despite the Akanan victory, she knows Torrviol can’t be held?
If that was the case, it might actually be beneficial to let him take Torrviol. She still wanted to see how long it took for the Divir moon to fall if the Monument was intact. And if there is a limit to the amount of time loops, longer loops would mean I can get more done.
Still, Mirian worked on crafting counters to every plan of his she could detect. There were easy ways to sabotage the listening machines. Luspire could likely be turned into an engine of timeline chaos by showing him Specter’s dossier on him. And the supply depots could be taken care of easily by her seeds of chaos designs.
On the 22nd of Solem, a zephyr falcon arrived for the Akanans, followed shortly by the sky yacht landing outside of town. The excuse the Akanans gave was that there was an emergency in Vadriach and the Prime Minister had ordered the immediate recall of all arcanists to help deal with it.
“Luspire went with them,” Jei told Mirian as soon as they met. “But not before locking down the room to the Divine Monument. He’s charged Ferrandus with keeping the area secure.”
“And what’s Sulvorath up to? Did he leave with Cearsia?”
“No. He’s still here. Torres put a tracking device in his bag, and he hasn’t found it. She made it look exactly like a silver florin.”
“Bless Torres,” Mirian muttered. “Where’s he hiding? I’ll ensure there’s a change in the captain of the guard.”
A day later, the false guard captain was a pile of ash and bone in Torrviol Lake, and word came that the train to Cairnmouth had been damaged. Its spell engine had burned, and now the train was blocking all movement between Torrviol and the rest of Baracuel. The explosion, though, had happened the night of the Akanan’s departure.
“The arcane eruption’s never damaged the train itself before. The Akanans might have bombed it from that airship,” Mirian told Jei in their next meeting.
“With Luspire aboard?”
“They probably killed him. An archmage is still vulnerable to a dagger in the night.”
Jei went pale at that.
Sulvorath had made himself a new safehouse by buying up a piece of property south of city hall. He’d bought the property under a false name, then had the spies start using that building for any check-ins they needed to do. He’d also hollowed out a passage down to the Underground, and was no doubt setting things up there.
If Mirian had skipped town like she normally did, it would have thrown off her contingencies. As it was, the other time traveler had just let his cavalry fly off in an airship, and was now missing any major allies to support him. Mirian figured she’d seen enough of his plans. Now she wanted to see how everything played out.
She wouldn’t give him the same opportunity.
Mirian tipped off Magistrate Ada, dropping off Specter’s notes, including information on the spy network and clear evidence of her treason. Then she told Priest Krier she knew where the necromancer was, while the Magistrate got the guard to get ready for the capture operation.
Meanwhile, Mirian put her lessons from Professor Marva to work, changing her disguise so that her face and hair color matched one of the acolytes at the temple, and got Priest Krier to lend her an acolyte robe. Priests got to sit in on interrogations with necromancers, and disguised as one of his acolytes, she reasoned she wouldn’t attract attention.
Sulvorath didn’t expect the ambush. Likely, he hadn’t even realized Agent Hache had gone missing, and he certainly didn’t have the spellpower to defend against a half dozen city guards backed by several professors. They quickly restrained him.
It was rather anticlimactic, but Mirian preferred it that way. The less risks she took, the more overwhelming force she could deploy against her enemies, the better. Mirian had talked to both Krier and Ada to plan the interrogation ahead of time. With Sulvorath captured, she joined Krier on his way to the Magistrate’s office.
It would be nice to see him in chains. She hoped the other time traveler squirmed.