The Sleeping Life

Chapter Twenty-Seven

After the scouting trip, the remainder of the morning was spent on practicalities. Shelter first and foremost, utilising the foundation of one of the ruined buildings, with a combination of Sigillics and Kellian strength compensating for their lack of useful tools. A little basic, but enough to fit all inside, and keep out wind and rain.

Fallon was groggy-headed from his nap by the cellar, but since he wanted to be able to sleep as soon as the Duchess woke up, he freely expended his energy, while struggling to clamp down on his expectations. There would be no miracle solutions. The Duchess was going to sit with him, and they would take the first step on what would undoubtedly be a long road.

But she knew! She knew! SHE KNEW! The foremost expert on the Eferum in all the world would guide Auri out of wherever it was that she was trapped, and Fallon would finally be able sleep without watching his sister in the Dream, and would wake up rested and without any need to worry.

"Why can’t we just magic up a few beds and blankets?" Kendall was asking Sukata, as the Duchess' three students scouted among the scattered ruins for the withered remains of vines.

Once again forgetting his mute spell, Fallon started to answer, then sighed. Not being able to speak was definitely safer, but it was very irritating.

"Conjuration impermanency," Sukata said, with the briefest of glances at Fallon. "To create something from pure Efera—from raw magical power—takes a heavy investment of energy, and does not hold. Conjurations fade quickly, and are rarely worth the energy cost."

"But…" Kendall looked down, then back at Sukata. "Didn’t the Black Queen conjure the Kellian?"

"That was Symbolic Transformation. Queen Solace used a Symbolic casting to create the Ten from her own flesh. Symbolic castings are always far stronger than those that rely purely on Sigillics, and Queen Solace must have poured an enormous amount of power into them for…for the Ten to have endured as long as they have. When the Efera invested into them fades, Transformation castings usually revert to their former state, but with a Symbolic casting where the former state is so very different, it is difficult to predict what will occur when the casting unwinds completely."

Kendall’s expression made clear that she was picturing the Kellian forebears abruptly melting to goo, or something equally dramatic. Since the Kellian transformation had obviously already run through the original energy invested into it, and the Ten had not been unmade, that was far from likely. Symbolic castings had a tendency to continue on in some way, even when you would rather they would stop—just like the miscasting that sapped Duchess Surclere’s health. And perhaps whatever Auri had done to herself.

The relief at no longer being alone, of definite help unravelling Auri’s miscasting, made him feel light-headed. More than light-headed: he needed a break. Sitting on the nearest tumbled wall, he watched the two girls hunt for vines and worried about his energy use. He’d managed some Sigillic casting—a transformation to weld stones and packed earth together—but shouldn’t be this near to dropping. It had been a mistake to go into the Dream by the cellar. Auri had tried to walk over the top of the shield to the cellar’s centre, but immediately complained that it felt sticky and given up. Her interest was fixed on the results of Lieutenant Meniar’s divinations, and what the Duchess was planning to do about Fallon, and not at all on cellars. Fallon had made the mistake of arguing, which was never the right way to get around Auri, and so he’d wasted even more energy.

He was so sick of being tired.

"There’s one," Kendall said, and a still-glossy sassflower vine detached itself from the branches of a nearby tree.

Fortunately she wasn’t facing Fallon, who hadn’t been able to hide a flash of panic. Self-immolation. Drowning on dry land. Explosions. Fallon couldn’t remember all of the cautionary tales that warned mages away from attempting Thought Magic, but he knew he didn’t want to learn a new one.

"You will bring your headache back," Sukata said, quite as if that was the only concern.

"I feel fine, now," Kendall said, coiling the vine into her collection.

"You over-extended yourself and now you must rest," Sukata said firmly, which told Fallon that the Kellian girl did, after all, know how Kendall had progressed. Perhaps Lord Surclere had told her.

For a moment Fallon allowed himself to be sheerly and meanly jealous. Kendall made no bones about her lack of interest in magical theory, and openly admitted she was studying with Duchess Surclere simply to learn a profession. Of all the people to make the transition to abstract Thought casting! But still, he hardly wanted her to accidentally kill herself—or any of them—as a consequence. And she had made a very large difference in finding the Duchess.

At least Sukata and Kendall seemed to have worked their way through their disagreement, at least to the point where Kendall had reverted to doing whatever Sukata suggested. She made no more attempts at Thought Magic, and they returned with a considerable haul of vines to watch with interest as Darian Faille and Tesin Asaka used them as binding and hinges for a door. Lieutenant Meniar, who was pacing his use of magic in case of emergency, had risked a few Sigillics to carpet the floor of their new building with a thick cushiony grey stuff transformed from the lining of his coat pocket. That would only last a few days, but with heat castings and a door they would be relatively comfortable if the weather turned bad.

The clear midday sky kept it pleasant enough outside for the moment. Fallon raided their growing stock of food, and settled down not far from where Duchess Surclere lay curled before a tumbled wall. The scene—with the ruins, the lake, and the most powerful mage in all the world sleeping in a pile of leaves—scarcely seemed real.

They had started out to hunt a monster and now faced a hopeless muddle of escapes and mysteries, but they had the Duchess back again, and so at least Fallon could continue to hope. She knew, and she would…well, she knew. He had to haul back on his expectations, keep them in hand. She had promised to investigate.

Not at all inclined to get up again, Fallon watched Lieutenant Meniar stretch out inside their new house to test his matting with a nap. Lady Rennyn woke up almost immediately after, and was taken off to the new privy by Lord Surclere, but settled down next to Fallon when she returned. He couldn’t hide his excitement, and she smiled at him.

"Don’t worry about trying to go to sleep immediately," she said. "I want to get a proper feel for what, if any, emanations you produce while awake first."

Fallon wished he could talk, could begin to say what it meant to him that she was even looking. He started to pantomime this, but perhaps it was fortunate that Lord Surclere distracted the Duchess, returning with two of the pages of Lieutenant Meniar’s book of slates, and his chalk box.

Duchess Surclere settled down to some meditative Sigillic drafting, plainly still trying to think of a way they could open a door in the shield. But her occasional glances at him told Fallon her mind was not entirely on devising. He wished he had a view of the slate, but decided not to risk distracting her by moving, even though the sun had shifted so he was in shadow and a bit too cool.

Dezart Samarin was less circumspect, strolling over to sit on the wall behind the Duchess. He watched silently until she glanced up at him, then said: "What about a variation of a Fingalese Reflection?"

The Duchess lifted her eyebrows, and turned back to consider her Sigillic draft. "A distinct possibility." She picked up the second slate and began writing, before adding: "If you’re going to start openly collaborating instead of just dropping hints, perhaps you’d like to assist Lieutenant Meniar in the unpinning issue. Healing is really not my area of expertise."

"You think it’s mine?"

"I gather you’re famous for it," Duchess Surclere said, and smiled as if she could see the Dezart’s momentary shift of expression behind her. "The price of teasing Kendall is her excellent memory. Too many dropped hints, I’m afraid."

The Dezart now appeared entirely unruffled, but Fallon thought he wasn’t overly pleased. "I wonder what leaps of imagination you’ve made?"

"It’s also because you remind me rather of my Wicked Uncle."

That startled the Kolan. "Of an Eferum-Get monster? How very complimentary you are, Duchess Surclere."

"And you remind me of myself, as well. All three of us, we are very powerful and we have been set to an overwhelming task. Solace created Prince Helecho to help her regain Tyrland. My whole family devoted itself her defeat, to the point where I know so little outside Eferum theory that I’m frequently embarrassed by the gaps in my education. And you…Prince Helecho is a good deal more vicious than you seem to be, Dezart, but he’s entertained by people in a similar way. Perhaps because he was so separate from our world, but I think also because so much of this is new to him. You are much more widely experienced, but you frequently give me the same impression. A great deal has been denied to you, but for now you are out of your cage, and enjoying the freedom."

Fallon had absolutely no idea what the Duchess was talking about, but her comments were obviously hitting home. The Dezart’s expression had become ominously still.

"I seem to have vastly underestimated your ear for intent, Your Grace."

"I also met you when the transformation—it’s a Symbolic Transformation, isn’t it?—must have been very recent."

So Dezart Samarin really was a shapeshifted mage? But why did he insist he couldn’t cast? And what was the point of pretending to be someone else when no-one in Duchess Surclere’s entourage had any tie to Kolan society? Really, the only person they’d likely have objected to was Prince Helecho.

Deeply interested, Fallon was sorry when the Duchess glanced back at him, frowning. Perhaps she had forgotten he was listening.

"Sukata, could you please wake Lieutenant Meniar?" she said, then added: "I’m presuming you can hear me, Fallon. Your energy use is worryingly high, far higher than the amounts Lieutenant Meniar divined last night. I don’t know if such variation is usual for you, but I don’t think it’s safe. Are you able to stop?"

Fallon goggled. Or didn’t. He didn’t move, watching with the same fixed regard that he’d maintained since…since…

Since he’d gone into the Dream. He was asleep. Had been asleep for…surely a large portion of the time the Duchess had been sitting with him. Without Auri.