FWFW 3 - 68

Hey all - still no power here, but our generator is hanging in there. Had a scare when it went down in the middle of the night, but it just wanted some more oil. My sister wasn't sure the last time it was serviced (doh!), so we gave it a good going over - new oil, filter, and replaced the battery. The propane guy topped us off, so we're good for another few days.

Hmm... writing! Well, I spent yesterday cleaning yard debris, so I'm starting to get a little behind where I'd like to be. Still, I should have some time today to finish the next Victor chapter, and I'm still a little ahead on FWFW.

Cheers,

-Plum

Morgan sat on a tall workshop stool and watched Issa preparing the smelter to create the alloy for Tiladia’s new body. Issa had asked him to keep her company, and since she wasn’t casting any of the body parts yet, she wasn’t worried about spoiling the surprise Tiladia wanted. “Are you excited?” Morgan asked the dragon spirit as it hovered, her shards of tinkling crystal swirling in an agitated manner. Well, Morgan reflected, the movements seemed agitated, but he wasn’t sure.

“Extremely, Morgan! I still can’t believe I’ll be unbound from this tower. It’s been . . . millennia!” Tiladia said, swooping close so her cool mists brushed his neck.

“Yeah, but what about the new body? I’m curious to see what you and Issa came up with!” Morgan didn’t look at her while he spoke, still focused on Issa’s strange preparations. She’d created a copper tray on which she’d scribed dozens of runes and piled a dozen bars of silver next to the large bar of Amber Ore he’d given her.

Before Tiladia could answer him, Issa looked back at him with a pleasant smile and a look on her face that seemed to say, “Watch this!” Then she put her hands flat on the copper plate, and Morgan felt a surge of Energy, warm and wonderful, blaze to life, coming directly from her. He watched, waiting to see what that Energy would do, but before anything happened that he could see, he heard a haunting, lilting hum, and he realized that Issa was singing.

Tiladia drifted away from him toward Issa, her conversation with Morgan lost in the sound of Issa’s melody. Morgan couldn’t blame her—he had a hard time thinking of anything while that sound grew louder and the notes stretched and folded on themselves, sending shivers down the back of his neck and raising goosebumps on his arms. A deep golden-blue glow began to emanate from Issa’s hands, and Morgan stood, trying to see what was happening.

The glow was spreading from where her palms touched the copper, and, as it traveled over the sheet, it ignited the runes Issa had inscribed, following a pathway that Morgan hadn’t noticed before. When the streams of Energy had traveled through all of the runes, and they all glowed brilliantly, they continued—one to the silver and the other to the Amber Ore. Issa’s song grew louder and faster, her high soprano rippling in a dozen different notes at once, and Morgan felt the surge of Energy coming from her mount in intensity, more than he’d ever felt from one of her spells before.

The different ores began to glow then, taking on the gold-tinged blue light that had suffused the copper plate and all of its runes. As Morgan watched, the runes faded away, and the ore seemed to pulse with the Energy and then subside, absorbing the magic that Issa had infused in it. Issa stopped singing and sighed happily, clapping her hands together and rubbing them together, then moved to inspect the silver.

“That was so beautiful, Lady Issa,” Tiladia said, hovering around Issa and bathing her shoulders in the mists that held her essence.

“Thank you, Tiladia, but you promised not to call me ‘Lady’ anymore!” Issa laughed, gently rubbing her fingers over the bar of silver and closing her eyes.

“I’m sorry!” Tiladia chimed, though she didn’t seem sorry—more amused if Morgan were any judge.

“That was something else, Issa,” Morgan said, moving closer, trying to see if he could see any differences in the silver or Amber Ore. They looked the same to him, though he imagined he’d be able to feel the Energy if he held one of the bars. On a whim, he cast Void Vision and examined the metal. They blazed brightly in his enhanced view, a deep aura around them that matched the Energy Issa had put into them, and a sense of potential and . . . beauty coming from them.

“Thank you, Morgan! Can you help me with the next part? I need to carry all of this silver to that big crucible.” She pointed to a large, metallic, bucket-shaped piece of equipment suspended from a chain near the smelter.

“Yeah, sure,” Morgan said, moving over to the pile of silver bars and carrying them, four at a time to the crucible. They were smaller than the Amber Ore bar, but all together, he thought the mixture was something like ten to one, silver to Amber Ore. When he’d piled all the silver bars in the bottom half of the big crucible, Issa handed him the Amber Ore bar.

“Put this on top, please. I need to get a stool in here!” She stood on her tiptoes, though, and watched him place the Amber Ore. “Now, I need to smelt this for a while, and I’ll work some more spells into it while it cooks. After that, I will pour it into the molds for Tiladia’s body parts!”

“So, you’re banishing me?” Morgan asked with a grin.

“Right! I’m going to get the molds out and set them up while this is cooking, so . . . begone!” She laughed and pushed him toward the exit. It was Saturday, and none of Boris’s people were working, especially with the big gala on the airship starting soon, so Issa had the whole shop to herself.

“Well, I’m going to talk to Ykleedra about what I need to do with her sisters. I got stuck with babysitting duty while she goes to that party.”

“What a nice man,” Issa said, favoring him with another smile, but then she went back to her crucible, clearly too excited and distracted with the process to spare him much thought. Morgan laughed and hurried on his way, using the stairwell to step down to the atrium level.

“Ykleedra?” he called as he strolled down the path toward the fountain. He knew she and the children had been spending a lot of time at the build-site for their future home, but sometimes she was down in the burrow she’d made in the early days. He found the fastest way to get her attention was to call out for her and wait on one of the benches.

He’d only just sat down and started daydreaming about tackling some of the texts in his library when he heard footsteps and laughter. He turned toward the sound and saw Maria and Ykleedra walking toward him from further into the atrium. He slapped his head and said, “I forgot you were here, Maria!”

“I came to help Ykleedra with her hair. Don’t you think it’s lovely?” Maria asked, perhaps leading him a bit too obviously.

“Oh!” Morgan said, standing up and taking a good look at the young Yovashi. Her silvery-white hair, ordinarily straight and usually tied back in a ponytail, had been curled and trimmed and fell like glistening ribbons on the sides of her head. Morgan didn’t have to lie when he said, “Oh, Ykleedra! It looks beautiful!”

Ykleedra looked down shyly, and her long walking-legs, as she called them, folded slightly, making her appear smaller. “Thank you, Morgan. Maria taught me how to use a special iron for my hair!”

“Well, you look great. I hope you have a lot of fun tonight,” Morgan said, giving Maria a pointed look. Ykleedra wore her usual silver robe, and Morgan knew she didn’t own anything else. It was a pretty garment, though, and suited her well. He supposed he should see about getting her some different robes, regardless of the usual Yovashi customs—he was trying to steer her away from those traditions, anyway. “Where are the little ones?”

“They’re playing near the new house. They shouldn’t need much watching, Morgan. They mostly crawl around the piles of lumber and explore in the grass, pretending to hunt each other. They’ll feel sleepy and want to curl up together in a few hours. We’ve been sleeping out there—I haven’t wanted to into the burrow since you took Tkron.” Her voice grew soft as she told him the last, and Morgan stepped forward, concern in his eyes.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes!” Ykleedra said, attempting a human-like smile with her stiff facial features. It came out looking more like a grimace, but Morgan knew better. “We enjoy the atrium at night—the smells and sounds. It’s nice to be away from the decay pit that Tkron had been building. I’m letting the atrium retake the burrow. It’s starting to fill with roots, and the ground slowly shifts back to where it was when I started digging.”

“Ahh, I imagine that’s the tower’s self-repair function.” Morgan nodded, scratching his chin. “Well, are you two heading out?”

“Yes, we are!” Maria said, and Morgan took a moment to look at her, noticing her carefully coiffed hair and the shimmering material of her navy-blue blouse.

“You look very nice, too, Maria.” The woman was a good ten years his senior, but, like many of the colonists who’d worked to improve their levels, she looked much younger and more vibrant than when they’d first arrived. Morgan wondered at that—how different would their culture become with much longer-lived citizens and a lack of significant disease? How much would it change as their species began to mingle more and more with the others on this world?

“Thank you, sir,” Maria said, curtseying with a giggle.

“All right, all right,” Morgan chuckled. “I’m going to find those little rascals. Have fun. I wasn’t joking earlier, though—I’ll come looking for Ykleedra if she’s not back in a couple of hours.”

“Oh, all right, you grouchy old man!” Maria said with another giggle, and then she reached out a hand, and Ykleedra wrapped a tentacle around her wrist. Morgan felt some tension inside him release when he saw the physical contact—Maria would look out for Ykleedra.

#

Captain Gella was exceedingly pleased with the party. Hundreds of the humans had accepted his invitation, and everyone he’d seen had partaken of the foods or, at least, the drinks. His crew had put together a band of sorts and were playing some lively tavern music on the quarter-deck. Lieutenant Bekira had proven to have a lovely voice, and the humans seemed to enjoy the fast-paced string music—they had some novel ideas when it came to dancing, and Gella rather enjoyed the chaotic energy he saw on the dance floor.

“Captain,” First Mate Reeja said, sauntering up from below decks.

“Yes, Reeja? Do you have a report for me?”

“I do. All of the soporif . . .” he began, but Gella cut him off.

“Quiet, fool! You needn’t spell it out!” Gella turned and walked up the short steps to the first aft deck, motioning for Reeja to follow him. He backed up until he was pressed against one of the Energy crystal housings and said,  “We can speak here, but keep your voice down.”

“Ehrm, yes,” the Vodkin said, looking over his massive round shoulders in the least surreptitious manner Gella could imagine. “Well, all of the special dishes have been dispensed, and the cook,” he winked obnoxiously at the word, “is ready to activ . . . er, mix up the final ingredients whenever you give the word.”

“Ancestors, man,” Gella sighed. “Well, did you ask the crew if anyone saw that,” he glanced around and spoke under his voice, “Yovashi eat any of the ‘special dishes?’”

“Aye, sir! Many!” Reeja grinned.

“Excellent. Let’s prepare to,” again, he looked around and said, “end this farce. Send my go-ahead to the cook, but first, check with Tanna to ensure her project is in play. Tell Finneal and Haku-dak to stand by for any resistance.”

“Captain!” Arthur Ballard called, walking up the short flight of stairs to aft-deck one, a noticeable wobble in his step. Gella had been pleased to see that more than half the human council had decided to come to his party, and many of the engineers and crafts folk as well. He might be coming back with a lighter haul than ap’Gravin had wanted, but the quality of the cargo was undeniable.

“Yes, Arthur! Please come on up, tell me what you think of the food!” Gella called, affecting a smile and nudging Reeja to get moving.