Wallace

The stew Valentine had provided was hearty fare, prepared with some of the stock carried in our remaining pack, and bottled water fetched from below. She'd even worked out sleeping arrangements, despite us being down one tent and one bedroll.

The sky was clear enough, so hoping it wouldn't rain, she'd reworked the tent and groundsheet into a makeshift bedroll. Both it and her own bedroll had been set up near the door, clear of the golf-ball-sized gravel that covered most of the roof. Not that the concrete was going to be much more comfortable, but after ten or so hours at a forced march, I was tired enough that it wasn't likely to matter.

And there was the sky. A sheet of stars unmolested by artificial light, and so bright that it seemed unreal. I'd lived in big cities all my life, where the best I might see would be only the very brightest stars, Orion's belt perhaps, and the inner planets.

But as I sat there and ate my stew, it felt as if the whole galaxy was laid out, right before my eyes. In fact, I finally understood why it was called 'The Milky Way'. Without all the lights of a city to drown it out, a thick arc of white could be seen, like drops of milk against the black sky. Perhaps it wasn't the galaxy I knew, but it was a galaxy, seen not through a massive telescope perched atop a mountain and carefully shielded from the lights of civilization, but with the naked eye.

"Such childlike wonder," Valentine remarked, and meeting her gaze, I found she was smiling, "And here I thought I had a brute for a travelling companion."

I gave her a wry smile, "Sometimes it does feel like I'm a skinny little nerd trapped in a giant's body."

She set her bowl aside, "What did you do before all this? You say you know how to fight, have you played bodyguard before, or is your family from the landed nobility?"

"Neither, learning how to fight was just one of many nerdy hobbies," I admitted, "No, I guess the closest analogue would be a scribe? The tech my job relied on is probably a couple thousand years off for Pelignos, maybe five hundred for Parabuteo."

Valentine smirked, "I cannot help but laugh at the image of those huge hands clutching a tiny quill. I would have thought that one your size would have played to those strengths, indulging in martial, rather than scholarly pursuits."

I shook my head, "In a modern military my size would probably be more a liability than an asset. Those pistols you have, for example, imagine a weapon like them, but with a dozen times the power. Then imagine they never fail to work, can fire ten times a second, and are accurate out to half a mile. And that's just what the average man might carry, our equivalent to siege weapons have ranges measured in miles and throw explosive shells that have enough force to level small buildings. My strength wouldn't do a whole lot for me, and I'm a damn big target."

Valentine's expression grew a great deal more serious, "With such weapons, war among your people must be particularly terrible."

I let out a long breath, "Yeah, yeah it is. But on the whole, I'd say it's better. It's better now than it was fifty years ago, and fifty years ago it was better than it was a century ago," I was silent for a long moment, pondering, "Makes me wonder about Simon. He probably has a pretty good idea of just how much life sucked for most of history, and I bet he can justify anything to himself if it's in the name of bringing some twenty-first-century civilization to Pelignos."

"And building a harem of sorceresses and noblewomen, that's just a bonus?" Valentine asked, a sour expression on her face.

"Prick probably thinks he deserves it," I shrugged, "A reward for good behaviour."

I was roused, brought to a drowsy half-wakefulness by a soft chiming sound, and was ready to roll over and go back to sleep when I felt a small hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake.

I yawned and sat up, the cool night air chilly against my bare skin. Valentine had elected to sleep in her jumpsuit, but my clothes had still been all run through with dirt and grit from my encounter with the landslide, so they'd been washed and hung to dry while we slept.

Valentine's gaze lingered on my chest as she quieted the enchanted chime and secreted it away in one of her pockets. But her gaze wasn't desirous or hungry. Instead, it was jealous, resentful even, though in the dim light of the magical torch turned low, I doubted she realized I could make out her expression.

She turned her back and busied herself with packing up camp while I dressed. There were a few patches of damp at the cuffs, but that would dry in time, and it was a hell of a lot better than spending another whole day in dirty, itchy clothes.

"Alright," I said once I was done, "I'm decent."

Valentine twisted the head of the torch, and the brightness increased.

"Almost done here," she said, "Have we any other business here, or shall we be off?"

"There's a safe downstairs that I'd like to take a look at before we go," I recalled.

"Very well, you investigate, I'll be down in a moment," she promised.

I picked up my backpack full of granola bars and other sundries, slung the poleaxe, now with a braided strap fashioned from the remains of the tattered case it had come in. I ducked inside, yawning as I descended the stairs, and brought my torch alive. The sudden brightness made me squint and turned the light down to a level that was comfortable before investigating the safe.

It looked very much like an oversized and overbuilt locker, painted beige and done in quarter inch steel instead of sheet metal. The lock wasn't the stereotypical dial, but an electronic number pad. I knew I could crack a combination lock, but it would take a while, and I didn't know if it was worth the delay. An electronic lock was a different story however, especially since I didn't know how many digits were required. It might be trivial, or it could be practically impossible, particularly if there was a limit to how many times a wrong entry could be made.

First step of cracking uncrackable passwords, look for the sticky note.

There was nothing stuck to or on top of the safe, so I checked the desk with the ancient computer. But there was nothing stuck to the monitor, under the keyboard, or in any of the drawers.

Returning to the keypad itself, I noticed that five of the digits were noticeably more worn than the others.

Assuming no duplicates, I think that's five to the power five possible combinations? So... five, twenty-five, a hundred and twenty-five, six hundred and something... So about three thousand or so possibilities.

Still far too many for me to try in any reasonable amount of time. I could probably do it in a couple of days, but it probably wasn't worth the trouble, for all I knew the coins would contain so little mana that it would be a waste of time.

Something to ask Valentine once she gets down I suppose.

I gave the lock a jiggle, and found that after cracking the paint that it could slide a few inches to each side.

Hmm, that was curious, like it had been stuck on by magnets. I just couldn't get enough leverage on the smooth metal to pull it off.

I recalled a metal ruler I'd noticed while rummaging about the desk, and slipped it in between the lock and the door of the safe.

I heard the stairs creak slightly as Valentine descended them, and had just popped the lock off the door when she joined me.

"Any luck?" she asked.

There was a hole in the door about an inch across, and a wire ran through from the back of the lock. I didn't have a whole lot of slack, but I got a clear look at the back of the lock, and the nine-volt battery that powered it.

"I think I can get this thing open, have you got a knife?"

"Have I got a knife," she repeated in a mocking tone.

I pried the battery out, "Fine," I laughed, "Can I borrow one of your knives, pretty please."

"Only because you asked so nicely," she insisted, pressing the hilt into my open hand.

I cut the wires as close to the lock as I could, and with the battery still in hand, stripped a bit of plastic from the end of each wire. I was careful not to let the wires slip back inside, and twisted one around the larger of the battery's terminals. With that done, I touched the remaining wire to the other terminal, and was rewarded with a chunk as the solenoid retracted, unlocking the safe.

"I am," I informed her, "A genius."

"What treasures have you discovered for us today, oh wise one," she said in a wry monotone.

"Let's see," I mused, checking each of the shelves in turn, "Some useless documents, a little handgun, a pair of magazines for it, and I don't know, a couple grand?"

I picked up the pistol, a slim and compact Saturday night special. It wasn't a bad looking gun, with a heavily blued finish and dark wood grips, but my fingers wouldn't fit the trigger guard. I pulled back the slide halfway and found the chamber loaded, though the safety was on.

"You want it?" I offered, "It's not much good to me."

"It appears rather feeble," she observed, though she accepted it all the same.

"Compared to those wheel locks you've got, yeah, probably, but you get more than two shots," I checked one of the magazines before handing both of those over, "Six actually. It won't take down a horse, but a man would find it a little startling."

She took the magazines, and I spent a couple of minutes, making sure she understood how it worked before returning to the remaining contents of the safe.

I pulled out a wad of cash with one hand, and a fistful of rolled coin with the other. I'd reasoned that if a box of old tools held enough mana to buy a really lovely poleaxe, then it was fair to assume that the coins, in a much more convenient package to carry, would be of at least some use. Though I doubted the same could be said for the linen bills.

"Is there much mana in either of these?"

"Those coins, absolutely," Valentine nodded, "It varies depending on the metal, but mana of any type is valuable, if not to us, than to trade with someone else. I don't know what sort of mana those papers would have though, and I'm not certain that they'd contain much mana in any case."

I furrowed my brows, looked down at the bills clutched in one hand, frowned, and then looked back up at her. I found her grimacing, her gaze on the floor.

"Oh," I said flatly, realizing for the first time that I'd never actually seen her use her own magic.

"Yeah," she sighed.

"So, how much of it was bullshit?" I asked simply.

"I know about magic," she promised, her gaze still on the floor, "I can even do magic, but beyond metals and gemstones, I'm not familiar with where the various mana types can be found."

I let the bills flutter to the floor, and stuffed the rolled coin into a pocket, "I feel like that's kinda important when it comes to doing magic."

"Magic-users are a jealous sort," she said with a stiff shrug, "Beyond metals and gemstones, they do not share such details with others. Not even among each other most of the time. Learning how to use magic is easy, at least if you have the discipline. It's the understanding of mana itself that keeps magic out of reach of most people."

"Valentine," I began gently, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Her gaze snapped up to meet mine, and I took a step back, hands spread.

"It's okay," I promised.

She swallowed and relaxed the white-knuckled grip she'd been keeping on the little pistol, though I could still smell a sweet perfume scent hanging in the air.

"It's okay," I repeated, "You said you could smell when someone was angry, right? Do I smell angry now? Did I smell angry before you started trying to dose me?"

She let out a breath, and some of the stiffness came out of her shoulders, "I'm sorry," she said in a small voice.

"I just need to know two things," I promised, "And then we can keep going. First, can you, for real, do magic? Second, can you teach what you do know?"

"Yes, and yes," she insisted, "Give me some of those coins, and I'll prove it."

I handed her one of the rolls, quarters I think, and she unwrapped the end and took out three of the coins. After a moment, two of the coins crumbled into nothingness, and she was left with the remaining coin as it danced through her fingers.

"Steel, iron really, as that's what steel is largely made of, contains Metal mana, Movement mana, and Protect mana. I used Metal mana from one coin and Movement from another to move the remaining one telekinetically."

"That's good enough for me," I assured her, "I'll pack up the rest of this, and we can be on our way."

She still seemed unconvinced, waiting awkwardly while I looted the safe, but at the very least she'd put away the pistol.

Kneeling down to get the last of the rolls at the bottom of the safe, I glanced over at her. She still seemed a little bit like a frightened doe, ready to bolt at the slightest indication of danger.

"Come on," I prodded, "Say something insulting, that always seems to make you feel better."

She gave a little start, and then a hand came up to hide her guilty smile.

"Come on, let's hear it," I teased.

She shook her head, her hand still over her mouth, and her cheeks turned a darker shade of purple.

"You've clearly come up with something, why don't you just-"

"You are so easy to please," she said in a strangled laugh, "It's not surprising that Temerity was able to get you into bed."

I chuckled and zipped up my backpack.

"I want to learn magic," I told her, standing, "I don't care what or how much. Anything is a start."

The little bell over the door rang once more, perhaps for the last time, as the tide would soon come to sweep clean the landscape, and we stepped outside.

And we both froze.

Hoofbeats, and a hell of a lot of them, could be heard pounding down the road.

"Kill the light," I hissed.

The light was out almost before I finished speaking, and I felt her grab my arm.

With just the starlight to guide me, I could just barely see, the world reduced to splotches of dark grey in minutely different shades, but it was enough. I got the two of us behind the gas station and onto the downslope of a nearby drainage ditch. With just the tops of our heads sticking up above the rise, we watched as fourteen horses came thundering around the large hedge to stop in front of the gas station. Only seven of the horses bore riders, and each carried a much larger and brighter version of the torches Valentine had brought along. One a surprisingly young male fey, one a mature looking elf woman, and five elf men. The fey was dressed in well-appointed riding clothes and bore no weapon, while the elves were armed and armoured.

Not true knights, like I'd seen fighting with Temerity, these elves looked more like scouts. Cuirassiers, perhaps, as their armour was limited to a helmet and breastplate each. The woman had a brace of pistols strapped to her breastplate, and all had a spear strapped to the saddle and a sword at their hip.

In the still night air, they were close enough that I could make out the woman's words as she ordered two of the elves into the gas station. Looking for us, evidently. Two more did a circuit of the building, though we were far enough back not to be seen.

The two who'd gone inside reported our absence, and re-mounted their horses before the whole lot went speeding off once again.

"The hell?" I asked once they were far enough that I dared to speak.

Valentine slammed her fist into the ground, "I hate this. I hate all of this. This is such utter bullshit. I hate that I'm tiny and weak. I hate that I need an amulet that cost a small fortune to be able to do what anyone else can do. I hate that I need to flee in the night like a thief, and I hate that I can't just do as I please without some gods damned servant thinking he can bring me to heel."

"Is that who that was?" I asked as I squinted after the lights speeding off into the distance.

"Seems he rounded up some sellswords and decided to come after me," she seethed, "probably looking to curry favour with one of the other houses. I don't know how he convinced them he could afford their services though."

"They've got to be tired by now," I guessed.

"Wallace, I'm not exactly concerned for their comfort."

"Not what I mean," I said gently, "Just think, for them to catch up to us when they did, they must not have stopped to rest. They would have had to make up all the time it would have taken for the kid to realize you were gone, plus the time it took to round up and convince the mercs. Not to mention all the time lost as they followed our tracks through the forest. They've got to be tired."

"Plus the time to get the horses down the ramp," Valentine added, still seething with anger, though now with a note of control, "There's special carriages, it takes ages. And they would have had to find another way round the cliff that collapsed on us. All the same, I don't fancy the odds."

Thinking back on that, I couldn't help but clench my teeth. At the time I'd been worried about the stupid pack I'd lost, but in hindsight, the worst of it was the clarity it gave to our path. Sure they would have had to find a way around, but seeing that, there would have been no doubt we'd gone that way. In truth, the asphalt road had probably saved our bacon. With pine needles leaving tracks like snow and the landslide acting as a clear marker, the hard tarmac finally cast some doubt on where we'd been and how long ago.

"We may yet be able to evade them," I pointed out, "We left late, which ordinarily would be a bit of a pain, but in this case, it's an advantage. I bet the kid's assuming you left as soon as the sun was up, so they still think we're a couple hours ahead of them. How much longer till we hit the halfway point anyways, an hour or two right? Whatever the kid promised, I can't imagine those mercs are keen to risk getting swept up by the tide. We play keep away for long enough, and they'll head back."

"For us, an hour or so, but longer for them. They're riding light and have spare horses," she explained, "Maybe twelve hours."

"Decision time then," I said grimly.

"We either keep going and try to slip past them, or head back and try to get to the first rest stop on the way to Caniforma."

Valentine was quiet for a moment, except maybe for the sound of her teeth grinding together.

"We press on," Valentine said finally, her mind made up, "Returning to one of the cities is a last resort. There's no guarantee we won't happen across another lickspittle, gagging for whatever rewards some patriarch might heap upon them. Twelve hours, then I'm free."