35. [Carina] Insidious Thought (Patreon)

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--DRAMATIS PERSONAE—

Carina Goldstone, Logician of the 2nd Renown, Kingdom of Infinzel, making new friends

Issa Firstdot-Tuarez, a young woman of no renown but good birth, Kingdom of Infinzel, daughter of a dead man

Arris Stonetender, a fire elementalist of no renown, Kingdom of Infinzel, getting colder

16 Harvesend, 61 AW

The pyramidal city of Infinzel

224 days until the next Granting

Carina Goldstone activated her [Future Sight]. She visualized the people she wanted to cross paths with in the day ahead—the places she would find them, the times she would have to be there. She foresaw very few possible complications, at least in the near term. The fuzzy shadows of distant repercussions tickled her mind, beckoning to her insatiable curiosity, but she resisted the urge to push her [Future Sight] out further. Such visions were unreliable. And besides, she needed to conserve some of her Ink for later.

She sat cross-legged on the ledge outside her apartment. There was a late summer crispness to the wind that blew in off the river. Carina’s loose hair whipped across her face, obscuring her view of the outer districts just beginning to stumble to life in the early morning. Her eyes were sightless, anyway, focused inward on the shuffling futures.

Ah. Here was a problematic possibility.

A slip of her hand this morning. Something distracted her. A flaw in her calligraphy that went unnoticed. A costly error. She would only realize the mistake when it was too late—sweat beading on her chest, a sizzling pain in her temples. She stared into a set of eyes slowly filling with blood as she accidentally afflicted a hemorrhage on...

“No,” Carina said to herself. “Let’s not do that one.”

Carina stood up and went back inside. She cracked her knuckles and stretched her fingers. Her hands were steady.

Sitting open atop her cluttered table was Carina’s copy of An Encyclopedia of Runes, 7th Edition. Of course, a copy was available to her down in the Battle Library, but she preferred the one she’d absconded with when she left the Magelab. Sentimental value.

The book was open to the page for [Insidious Thought]. A rune of high renown typically reserved for the mentalist classes (telepath, enchanter, etc. see appendix XIV), [Insidious Thought] afflicts a victim with an unshakeable notion or idea. Trials indicate that victims suffer increasing mental trauma as they try to resist the implanted urge. Traditional healing is ineffective, although purifications (such as for poisons or curses) proved successful. Notable use cases include at the 37th Granting when a number of Gen’bi nomads were afflicted by a Brokerage assassin prior to arrival on Armistice…

Carina had practically memorized the text. More importantly, she had memorized the contours of the symbol. But even after weeks of practice, she still did not trust herself to go strictly from memory. She picked up the tome and propped it up next to her mirror. Then, she stripped off her shirt. She took a moment to admire her Ink.

Such a small collection. The whorls of the central logician tattoo over her breastbone fed out into the red-flecked skills the gods had let her keep when they chose her. She would add to that soon. One way or another.

Carina went to her closet, rummaging into the back until she found the old cloak she had brought with her from Magelab. Most of her clothes were new purchases since returning to Infinzel—the fancier fabrics actually gifts from merchants eager to see their product worn by a young champion. The cloak was heavy material, made for winter, travel-stained and patched. Unremarkable in every way.

She took a knife and made a small slit in the seam of a sleeve, pinching and shaking the material until the opaque vial she had sewn inside tumbled into her palm.

Measuring carefully, Carina poured half the vial’s contents into a saucer. The substance was dark red, viscous, slightly thicker than blood.

Chanic.

Liar’s ink, they called it. Dredged from beneath the sands of the Gen’bi desert. This batch came courtesy of a Crucifalian extraction site, which had contracted with Carina’s phony trading company to deliver it to buyers in Merchant’s Bay. She’d absconded with the shipment and used the chanic to bribe her way into the Magelab.

But she hadn’t traded her entire supply to the mages. That wouldn’t have been practical.

Now, she dipped a quill into the chanic, swirling the crimson substance until it was smooth. She looked at herself in the mirror and steadied her breathing. If the rune she painted on herself had even the slightest flaw, the results could be disastrous. She had seen as much in her vision of the future.

Carina believed in her own precision. An error on her part must have been provoked. So, she waited.

She flinched at a blur of motion on the floor next to her mirror. A rat scurried toward a crack in the wall.

“Ah, I see,” Carina said. “Makes sense.”

Carina reached out with [Enthralled Defender], capturing the little vermin’s mind. A much less complicated task than using her Ink on King Cizco. The rat stopped running for the wall and sat back on its haunches, looking up at her as if awaiting orders. The little guy would be her staunch protector until she decided to release him.

“I will have a job for you soon,” she told the rat. “But for now, be still.”

Carina’s hand moved with confidence. She spread the chanic across her skin, drawing the delicate lines of the new rune curling away from her logician tattoo. The application took less than ten minutes. She had been quicker when she practiced, but there was no need to hurry. There was plenty of time before her first meeting.

***

Late that morning, Carina entered the training pit for the first time during regular hours, out from under the supervision of Cortland Finiron. She wore the graystone-colored uniform of a Garrison soldier, sharply pressed and buttoned all the way to the neck. As ever, the domed room smelled of baked sweat and blood. The expanse of sand felt smaller with twenty other soldiers there going through their own exercises.

No one dropped their weapons to gape at her, but Carina sensed their eyes upon her all the same. A squadron of soldiers snapped through crowd control drills that would no doubt be put to use against the outer districts, a few others engaged in duels, and some older veterans creakily pursued calisthenics.

Carina wore her rapier on her hip, but went instead to the weapon rack to pick up a crossbow. She found that she enjoyed the weapon—the snap of the coil, the thud of the bolt, the crank of the loader. Learning to attack from distance would be time well spent. She selected an unoccupied target on the far side of the pit and began firing. None of her shots hit the bullseye, but neither did any sail wide of the target entirely. Carina considered that progress.

The other woman waited until Carina had gone through her first ten shots before approaching, just as Carina knew she would.

“Stationary target doesn’t seem like worthwhile practice considering where you’re headed, champion,” the woman said.

Carina glanced in her direction. “Are you volunteering to be shot at?”

Issa Firstdot-Tuarez smiled without teeth. She had the refined features of a noble, but her shoulders were broad and arms muscled. Issa kept her lustrous black hair tied back, exposing the strong line of her jaw.

“You’ll find me easy to hit but hard to hurt,” Issa said. She had a tower shield strapped to one arm, and she plunged it into the sand for emphasis—the shield covered her entire formidable height. “Although I suspect you’d find a way.”

Carina stopped reloading the crossbow. “What does that mean?”

“Everyone has heard what happened with you and Cortland.”

That wasn't true. Carina was sure that Cortland hadn't gone around telling the story of his ambush, and she doubted King Cizco wanted his role known either. For her part, Carina had kept her mouth shut. Even Henry—who had healed the three of them after the fight—didn’t know all the violent details. Any rumors that reached the Garrison came from the masons who made repairs in the stairwell or the attendants who had cleaned up the blood.

“Oh?” Carina tilted her head. “What exactly did you hear?”

“That the two of you came to blows before you even reached the training pit. That King Cizco himself needed to separate you. That you fought a champion with ten more levels of renown to a standstill.”

Carina breathed out a light laugh. “I didn't realize Garrison soldiers had so much time to gossip.”

Issa frowned at her. “I do not gossip.”

“Of course not,” Carina replied.

“Regardless, I won’t be your pincushion,” Issa said. She sized up Carina, eyes lingering on the rapier at her hip. “But you do seem to be in need of a new sparring partner.”

“Actually, I think I've reached the limit of what I can learn sparring on this sand,” Carina said. “But thank you for the offer.”

Issa stiffened at the dismissiveness in Carina’s tone, as Carina knew she would. Tuarez was an old noble family, one of the few that hadn’t been subsumed into the Salvado line, and featured one of Infinzel’s most legendary champions. Issa had chosen a rugged life in the Garrison when she could’ve simply overseen the family’s business interests, but such low class pursuits hadn’t dulled her noble’s instinct to take offense.

“You know, you hold my father's old spot amongst the champions,” Issa said. “I've been eager to see who the gods chose to replace him.”

“Oh.” Carina affected a look of surprise, as if she only now realized Issa’s identity. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Do me the honor, then,” Issa said. She unclipped a spear from where it hung behind her back. “Just to the first touch. Let me see what old Uncle Cortland taught you.”

Uncle Cortland. Carina almost tittered. The others soldiers in the Garrison were watching more openly, recognizing that a challenge had been made. Carina understood now why King Cizco had insisted she be kept apart from the others during her first couple months here. Infinzel was full of strivers. Unsurprising, as Carina was one of them.

Carina sighed as if put out. “Fine.” She set down her crossbow and circled into an open expanse of sand, her hand on the hilt of her rapier. “You may attack when ready, Issa Firstdot-Tuarez.”

The other woman raised a slender eyebrow. “You should draw your weapon.”

“Eventually,” Carina replied, shrugging.

Issa studied her for a moment, her expression hardening as she digested Carina’s arrogance. She hunkered down behind her shield and advanced with her spear level.

Carina activated [Future Sight]. She sensed the Ink would fade after this use, but that would be enough.   

These were not the complex attack patterns of Cortland Finiron. Issa was strong and fast, but not augmented by any Ink. While she didn’t provide Carina with any openings, her thrusts were straightforward. Carina stayed a half second ahead, dodging and spinning aside, her posture erect, one hand always on her rapier’s handle. She merely had to wait a few more seconds.

“Gah!” Issa shrieked as the rat from Carina’s room skittered up her leg and tried to bite through her uniform. She smashed her fist down, the vermin crushed against her muscular thigh. When Issa brought her spear back up, she found the tip of Carina’s rapier tickling her ear lobe.

“Well fought,” Carina said, and flicked her wrist to draw a pinprick of blood.

“How…?” Issa stared at her. It was all impeccably timed. Just as Carina had planned.

“Tell me, Issa,” Carina said, sheathing her blade. “Do you have any experience with the Underneath?”

***

In the afternoon, Carina made her way to the manufactory. When she described Infinzel as the beating heart of the world, the manufactory was what she had in mind. Infinzel’s vast smithing operation took up most of the pyramidal city’s second tier. Massive lifts hoisted raw materials up from the mineral gardens where they were distributed to the various work stations throughout the manufactory. Blacksmiths hammered steel into arrowheads, metalworkers poured molds to create buckles and horseshoes, jewelers chiseled diamonds from stone blocks and handed the gemstones off to artisans to mold into earrings, and so much more. There were always men and women bellowing at each other, squabbling over tools, or dashing about to fulfill an order.

Carina loved it. The scene seemed chaotic, but there was an order beneath all the noise. Like blood pumping through arteries.

She had spent a good amount of time here since returning to Infinzel. If her goal was to understand how the pyramidal city operated, then she needed to learn every aspect of the manufactory. For their part, the workers always seemed happy to let her observe and answer all her mundane questions. It was a rare thing to have a champion interested in what they did here.

Carina drifted through the noise until she felt the heat from the forges. She bumped into the head blacksmith—a burly man in his early sixties—who greeted Carina with a fond grunt.

“Did you get the materials I requested?” Carina shouted into his ear.

“Of course, of course,” the blacksmith replied. “Studied the plans you gave us. Nothing we can’t handle, Goldstone, if you’ve got better things to do.”

“What could be better than this?” Carina exclaimed. “I’ll draw the runes myself, if it’s all the same to you. But then I’ll leave the shaping to you and your men.”

“Fair enough,” the blacksmith replied. He motioned toward a row of open workbenches. “Get comfortable. I’ll fetch your toys.”

Carina chose a workbench close to the naked heat of the forges. There was only one other person nearby—a scarred woman perched on a bench, gazing vacantly into the roiling fire. She was not in the process of making anything and did not seem to notice Carina.

Arris Stonetender. The elementalist who specialized in fire. The woman looked like a melted candle. Middle-aged, sunken, her hair scalded short. Arris had been selected as a champion before King Cizco realized the gods had chosen for him. Carina saw her here often, though she’d never come this close before. Arris came to the forges because it was hard for her to get warm. Something about her many arcane bargains made her long for heat like an addict. The head blacksmith had explained all this to Carina like he was telling her a ghost story.

What would Arris be like if she could rely on Ink instead of the old ways for her magic? Carina wondered, but would never ask.

The blacksmith returned with Carina’s supplies. She rolled up her sleeves and went to work. The designs were cribbed from the workshop of a Gadgeteer in Beacon who was bizarrely devoted to creating tools for the Orvesians to cleanse their blighted lands. A bouncing blessing, the Gadgeteer called the finished product.

Carina began by using a heated rod to carve a rune into a piece of thin metal. The symbol wasn't terribly complicated—not so different than the magic used in the lamps throughout Infinzel. However, Carina added markings for purification and dispellment. The result would be a cleansing light like the magic popular with the Ministry of Sulk. Creatures of darkness, hexes and curses, the undead—all would be destroyed when the light shone upon them.

However, the rune alone was powerless. Carina needed a sacrifice to solicit power from the gods. For that, she had commissioned a pouch of diamonds from the mineral garden. With arcane words that she’d learned at the Magelab, Carina transferred the shine from the diamonds to her rune-work. Soon, she had six glowing runes on six sheets of metal, and a handful of diamonds that looked like dried turds.

“Excuse me.”

Engrossed with her work, Carina hadn’t noticed Arris approach, even though Carina knew that she would. The elementalist loomed over her shoulder, gazing down with eyes unshielded by brows or lashes.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Arris asked.

“Partly in Beacon and partly at Magelab,” Carina said brightly, adding a bit of youthful flip to her voice. She extended a hand. “Have we met? I’m Carina Goldstone.”

Blinking, the elementalist slipped her papery and incredibly warm hand into Carina’s. The scar tissue along the back made Carina wince. “Arris Stonetender.”

“Oh, Arris Stonetender, the elementalist! I should have known by the…” Carina purposefully trailed off.

“You went to the Magelab,” Arris said, peering own at Carina’s work almost dazedly.

“Just for a little while, unofficially.” Carina cocked her head. “Didn’t you?”

Arris shook her head. “They consider elementalists to be… unrefined.”

“I didn’t know that,” Carina replied. “Well, unrefined or not, Cortland is always singing your praises. He says you would have made an excellent champion.”

Carina had to look away as the woman’s dry eyes filled with water. “He did?”

“I guess,” Carina said, carefully gathering the sheets of metal. “I need to bring these to the blacksmith. I’m preparing for my first foray into the Underneath.”

A faint spark lit in the elementalist’s eyes. Carina couldn’t tell if it was a reflection from the forges or a burst of her magic. “Of course. Every champion must go. You’ll need companions.”

“Uh huh,” Carina replied distantly. She craned her neck, looking around for the blacksmith.

“I would join you,” Arris said. “I might not be a champion, but I can still be useful to the king and Infinzel.”

Carina screwed up her face, pausing to assess the woman. “Is that a good idea?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Carina waved a hand. “You’re already half-eaten away by the fire. It doesn’t look like you’ve got a whole lot left to give.”

Arris took a step back like Carina had slapped her. “I…”

Carina spotted the blacksmith and waved him over. “Look, Arris, I guess you could talk to Cortland if you want. But don’t roast yourself any further on my account.”

***

Cortland had told her to make friends. Carina thought she did a pretty good job of it.

 That night, when she looked at her Ink in the mirror, the symbol for [Insidious Thought] that she’d painted in chanic had faded to a whitish-pink. She’d done what she needed to do.

Carina scrubbed the chanic from her chest until her skin was raw. Later, she would burn the washcloth.

There were darker depths than the Underneath. And Carina would happily sink into them if it meant getting what she wanted.