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Chapter 10
New York, Paris, Moscow, Tokyo, Shanghai, Singapore, Bandar Seri Begawan
“... and Haroun has been persuaded to give the details of his procedure to the American's Project Long, and my agents were able to get a copy of the preliminary assessment. It is a brute force procedure, and essentially rebuilds the body of the recipient without making any real changes. As a result, it is only temporary and needs to be redone every couple of decades when the body ages again. It is also, apparently, extremely painful for the recipient and debilitating even to a sorcerer of Haroun's power and experience.” De Revol looked at the images of his partners. “Still, if we can find someone with enough power to use it, Haroun's method will be a useful stopgap until a permanent solution can be found. I have directed my operatives to get a copy of the documents that were turned over to Dr. Ryan's team, but they tell me that it will be difficult. They -claim- that photography or photocopying is incapable of reproducing it properly, and that the hand-written copies are carefully guarded.” The Frenchman's disdain for these excuses was obvious.
Stavros shook his head. “My own sources tell me that this is the truth, Francois.” Loki grinned at him from his seat just out of camera range. “Magic does not easily lend itself to manipulation by purely physical means. It requires a living mind.”
De Revol sniffed. “There should be ways.”
Telnikov chuckled. “Perhaps there may be, tovarishch. But they have yet to be beink discovered, da?”
Stavros cleared his throat. “This is progress, though. We now know that it is possible already, if very difficult to accomplish as of yet.” He turned to another of the images. “Jian Chao, what can you tell us of the meetings in Beijing with our new Secretary of Commerce?”
“They went well for the most part. She is a most shrewd negotiator in matters touching her expertise. There is one thing that disturbs me. The day of her arrival, she was invited to the Imperial Palace to meet with Wei Lung. The meeting was closed, just the two of them – not even Wei Lung's chief aide was present. And no one has any idea what was discussed. It does not seem to have been anything to do with the subsequent negotiations.”
Marubashi gave a ghost of a smile. “Dragons are rumored to plan for a very long future. Perhaps it was an attempt to recruit her to his side.”
Jian frowned. “Perhaps. It could have been an offer of betrothal, for all we know. I am uneasy that there have been no leaks at all from either side beyond the bare fact of the meeting. Whatever was discussed, both Wei Lung and Shengran Lung are holding their own counsels. And -that- indicates that whatever it was, they consider it to be of sufficient import that they are not discussing it with we mere mortals.”
Chen Ming-yu shook his head. “The ways of dragons have always been said to be opaque, my friend. We are merely getting to see it first-hand rather than in fables. If it has any bearing on the relations of the Middle Kingdom to the rest of the world it will have to come out eventually.”
“I would prefer to be able to prepare.” Jian grumbled, and lit a cigarette. “But it would be most unwise to push the issue.”
Stavros turned to Hassan. “And how are your plans faring, your Highness?”
“The American wolf seems to have been missing for a week from her usual rounds in Washington before turning up in Europe. It seems she was visiting the Kingdom of the Sahara, presumably to coordinate American action with that of Prince Haroun.”
Telnikov nodded. “Da. And she stopped off to visit Greece, accompanied by several of Europe's flashier new mages and Changelings. I am findink out that they did so to speak with the Immortal known as Tsirtseya. They have since passed on proposals to the NATO powers on dealink with refugees and infiltrators from ISIL. I am hopink you are havink nothink to do with them, your Highness. I suspect that the West will not hold off much longer in dealink with those hooligans.”
“Nothing overt, Piotr. Enough to stay on their good side should they succeed in spite of themselves. But they have made no useful plans to deal with Haroun and the other magicians, so this is an unlikely outcome.”
De Revol nodded. “I have seen their plans, and they should be effective. They intend to use empaths and telepaths to screen the refugees at the borders, while cracking down harder on illegal entry away from the checkpoints. It will allow them to be merciful in allowing refugees in, while keeping ISIL's agents out.” <And now we will learn whether or not you will pass this back to those lunatics.>
Hassan nodded. “That may very well work, and keep their more sentimental people appeased. It may also make it more difficult to move -our- people around.”
Stavros smiled. “It just means we need to arrange for our people to be screened by... less thorough people, is all. It's just a matter of asking the correct questions.”
De Revol smiled back. "Or asking ones that are vague enough to be answered truthfully but incompletely..."
Diviner and Guardian faced three mirrors and the fireplace at the old mansion in downtown Washington. The Eldest, Haroun, and Circe watched from the mirrors, waiting for the last members of the conference. Pelé and Fuego finally appeared in the fire, and the white wolf cleared her throat. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Pelé.”
“I wasn't doing much this week, Makaula. Next week, we have a lovely lava fountain planned. You're welcome to come and watch.”
Diviner smiled. “I'd love to, but it's a bit short notice. Maybe next time?”
Pelé chuckled. “So what is so important as to call all of us together?”
Haroun answered. “We are curious as to how young Fuego was able to extend his power across thousands of miles. Quetzalcoatl was obviously assisting him, but we are curious as to the actual method.”
Pelé raised a fiery eyebrow. "I thought you knew that secret yourself, Haroun? Certainly what Diviner and Guardian have told me about the night when they sealed the Pentagon indicates it."
Haroun actually looked sheepish. "Ah... yes, to an extent. But that was to take control of a spell that was already present on the far side. Not to project my own magics through the mirror."
The volcano goddess frowned. "I see. Still, this is not something asked lightly. As you noted, the Snake used it to attack his enemies at distances from which he believed himself immune to retaliation. Why do you wish this knowledge?"
The Eldest spoke. “To deal with those who send out their own youths to attack those who do not agree with them in suicide missions. You know of the ones known as ISIL, Pelé?”
“Ah. Those. Can you not use your machines to deal with them, Makaula?”
The wolf turned furred hands palm-up in a shrug. “We can, but only at the price of killing those whom they have taken as hostages or duped into following them. We wish to keep the bloodshed to a minimum, and bombs are somewhat indiscriminate even when targeted precisely.”
Pelé smiled, then, and nodded to her apprentice. “The best of reasons, my friends. A'ahi? What do you know of this?”
The young coyote paused, recalling how it had been done. “I am not sure of the spells he used. I do know that I used his scrying pool visualize the targets, as if they were no more distant than the pool showed them to be.”
Circe nodded. “You cast the spells directly into the pool, then? And the pool carried them to the target?”
Fuego nodded. “That is what happened, si. It was somewhat more strenuous than using my powers across a field, but I could feel the pool doing much of the work.”
Haroun frowned in turn. “The Snake was always most powerful with such magics. This sounds as if he could use his scrying image almost as if it was a portal, and not merely an image.”
“But any scrying image must be a portal in some sense, wouldn't it?” Diviner leaned forward. “There is something at both ends, I can sense that myself at times. And if you can bring the images across the gap, you should be able to expand that and bring other things as well. Both ways, ideally.”
“Well, not -ideally-, Diviner.” Circe was smirking. “You really don't want the target to be able to send things back at you, after all.”
The wolf nodded acknowledgment with a half-smile. “Truth. But it seems as if it should be a difference of degree, rather than kind. A matter of opening a tiny portal wider, rather than a new spell entirely.”
Haroun nodded. “It is a good place to start. Fuego, do you recall anything of the spells that Quetzalcoatl used....?”
“Not really, I fear, Senor. But... when I was hiding at Trincheras with some of his surviving priesthood, they had one of his smaller scrying pools. Shall I see if I can find it again?”
The Eldest nodded. “That would be excellent, Fuego. In the meantime...” The discussion turned technical as four elder and three young Immortals began the process of back-engineering the method.
Fuego moved through the deep places, traveling the byways of the asthenosphere on his own for the first time. The rock he moved through was almost slushy, near its melting point, but it was fully charged with mana again, and neither the heat nor the pressure held any danger to his current form. Pelé had told him what to search for, and he smiled to himself as he found the fissures she had followed to reach him the first time. He moved more slowly as he rose to his destination, letting his form cool to a temperature that ordinary humans and changelings could endure.
Pedro was tending his family's fields, a task he was more and more responsible for now as he grew up and his father got older. The little village of Trincheras was once again the isolated and quiet farming community it had always been. Things had gotten exciting for a bit four years earlier, when Felix Rico had turned into a coyote with power over fire, disappeared for a few months, and then came back and became the village patrone for a time, bringing along some evil friends who he let terrorize the villagers. And then he had left again, and without him the bird and his minions were unable to maintain their control. The church had been rebuilt, a new priest had arrived, and things were back to normal, or nearly so. Felipe had left with his cougar daughter just before the fire-lady had come and had never returned, and Benito the smith was a bull these days (the priest said minotaur), but things were quiet again.
He nearly ran when the fissure across the cornfield began to hiss steam and fumes. <Madre de Dios. Rico made a bad jefe, but at least he could stop this when it happened! But perhaps it is the fire-lady again. I shall stay as long as it seems safe.> He paused, waiting to see what would happen, and the steam did not turn into something more dangerous. He was considering returning to his plowing when Fuego appeared.
He nearly bolted when the figure of the coyote emerged from the ground, glowing as the lady had when she appeared four years before – but then he remembered what the Jefe could do, and decided that the last thing he wanted to do was offend him. He gathered up his courage and went to meet him instead, bowing respectfully. “Jefe Rico? You have returned to us?”
The coyote was dressed in gossamer shreds of volcanic glass, just as the fire-lady had been. He smiled as his body cooled. “Pedro? Is it you?” The boy nodded. “It is good to see you again. You've grown.”
Pedro swallowed, still nervous. “Senor Loro and Senorita Tegrilla are not here, Jefe. They left when the Federales came, three years ago.”
“That is just as well, Pedro. Did they leave anything behind?”
“Much of what they had, si. They departed most suddenly. What is it you wish to find?”
“There was a bowl that we kept in the hacienda. Made of obsidian, with magic upon it. Do you know where it is?”
“Padre Julio, the new priest, tried to smash it, Jefe, but none could break it. So it was exorcised and buried.”
The coyote grinned. “Excellent. Can you show me where?”
“Si, jefe.”
"So this is our prototype." The eagle gestured towards the device. "We're tentatively calling it a 'PACS' device, short for Personal Aetheric Communications Service."
Stardancer stared at the bulky thing. “This is definitely not cell phone quality, Isaac. These things are the size of one of those old console television sets. And with that mirror sticking up it looks like a piece of bedroom furniture.”
Isaac shook his head. "Unfortunately, with the current state of mana generation tech, this is as small as we can make it and still have it able to power itself. At this point, it's basically a large ham radio, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time before we can shrink it down into something handheld."
"Fair enough. Might only be practical for military work at first, but we've got to start somewhere."
"Anyway, all the operator needs to do is turn one of them on...” He touched a keypad. “...like so.” On the other side of the lab, the other mirror lit up. “And then we can talk back and forth. We've got three major hurdles out of the way. One, we have a portable device that can generate its own mana.”
Stardancer snorted. “Technically portable I suppose. -I- don't want to carry it around, though.”
Isaac nodded agreement. “Well, yes. But it's a start. Two, we were able to reverse-engineer the communications spell enough to be able create a modified version that can be permanently bound to a physical object. Three, we were able to add an interface that doesn't require a mage to use. What we really need to do now is move them out of line of sight of each other and have non-mages try them out, to make sure that we're not affecting things by being here with them. Then, if we've actually got it right, we build a couple more and start working on the networking problem. At that point, we should get hold of some actual communications engineers and see if they can give us some pointers on how we can adapt their programs to this medium.”
The Head Witch nodded. “It does look like you've got it. So why don't you all take a week off while we set up the tests with some of our mundane types? When you get back, we'll send you off to talk to Forge and see who he can recommend to translate electronic networking to magic.”
8 July 2017
Palati tis Kirkis, Nisyros, Elliniki Dimokratia
In the end they needed Reynard's help as well. The ancient Hunting Magics held the final secret they required, the ability to focus on an individual rather than a place.
Reynard, Hunter, and Circe were waiting when Diviner and Guardian rode up to the palace late in the afternoon. Nimue ushered them in to the audience chamber, while Galen brought up the rear carrying the medical transport box that had accompanied them. It was surprisingly mundane, a simple high-end picnic cooler with 'Human Tissue For Transplant' stenciled on the lid and all four sides along with the Red Cross and the medical caduceus.
The bull-morph set it down at a nod from the wolves and withdrew from the room. “As requested, Reynard. Human fat. The CDC, incidentally, now suspects we are necromancers.”
The fox snickered. “This is what you get for going through channels, Diviner. I stole it the last time I did this.”
“I do not have the luxury of rooting around for stuff in medical waste canisters without someone noticing, Reynard. You are sure that this will work?”
“It has before. It was originally intended to hunt down prey species. With a picture to focus on, you can hunt down a specific member of that species. If the method gets out, they'll probably stop letting their faces be seen, but there are ways around that.”
Lowe shrugged. “Historically, groups this extreme never last for more than a few years anyway before they start turning on themselves. They start internal witch hunts on the basis of who is most ideologically pure. We're just going to accelerate the process and see if we can get them to kill fewer innocents along the way.”
Circe nodded. “Then let us be about it. I have had two boatloads of supposed refugees try to land on Nisyros in the past month, and I tire of it.” She stood and led the way down into the caverns beneath her palace.
The American intelligence services had provided photographs and drawings of the suspected leaders of ISIL as well as arranging for the required materials, diverted from surgical waste. Reynard copied one of them onto the wall of Circe's cave while the fat burned in Quetzalcoatl's scrying bowl. Nimue and Hunter joined him in his chanting as the way opened and the images formed on the wall, a mullah holding forth to a crowd of people, gesturing to a trio of prisoners off to one side.
Lowe flinched at the words as she translated. “They are to be burned for unspecified offenses. Supposedly against the Q'ran, but...” She shook her head. “This is one we want. Your turn, Circe.” The sorceress smiled, readying her own magics. “Just tell me when, Diviner. It should be done at the proper moment.”
The wolf nodded, focusing. “He's building up... get ready for it. And... yes! Now!”
Sayeed had been a follower of ISIL almost from the beginning. Not that he was certain that they truly spoke for Allah, but because it was the best way he could think of to keep his family safe, for he could not afford to flee when they had taken control of his village three years before. <And it did not save my father when they decided they wanted his house for their use. Someday, Allah will let me avenge his blood. Until then...> He knew that the current victims had been chosen not for their impiety, but simply for their inconvenience to the leaders, but he had been unable to save them. He listened impassively to the sermon, trying not to wince when the words of the Prophet were twisted by the ranting cleric.
“...and let this be a sign to the True Followers of Islam, and a warning to the Unfaithful, that we... we...” Sayeed watched in amazement as the man faltered in mid-sentence. Bin Salaam had never lost track of what he was saying before. His amazement grew as the cleric doubled over, gasping in pain as his body changed. Coarse fur grew on his hands, his fingers shifted to blunter horn-tipped ones, and his face... his face...
Sayeed seized his chance. “Infidel! Allah has turned him into a swine for his apostasy!” The crowd surged, half fleeing the square in panic, and half starting to pelt the former human with rocks as he desperately tried to run.
Nobody there even noticed when he released the prisoners.
Guardian noticed, though, as he watched the images from seven hundred miles away. “Remember that one, Diviner. I think he's got a mind of his own.”
New York, Paris, Moscow, Tokyo, Shanghai, Singapore, Bandar Seri Begawan
“... and Haroun has been persuaded to give the details of his procedure to the American's Project Long, and my agents were able to get a copy of the preliminary assessment. It is a brute force procedure, and essentially rebuilds the body of the recipient without making any real changes. As a result, it is only temporary and needs to be redone every couple of decades when the body ages again. It is also, apparently, extremely painful for the recipient and debilitating even to a sorcerer of Haroun's power and experience.” De Revol looked at the images of his partners. “Still, if we can find someone with enough power to use it, Haroun's method will be a useful stopgap until a permanent solution can be found. I have directed my operatives to get a copy of the documents that were turned over to Dr. Ryan's team, but they tell me that it will be difficult. They -claim- that photography or photocopying is incapable of reproducing it properly, and that the hand-written copies are carefully guarded.” The Frenchman's disdain for these excuses was obvious.
Stavros shook his head. “My own sources tell me that this is the truth, Francois.” Loki grinned at him from his seat just out of camera range. “Magic does not easily lend itself to manipulation by purely physical means. It requires a living mind.”
De Revol sniffed. “There should be ways.”
Telnikov chuckled. “Perhaps there may be, tovarishch. But they have yet to be beink discovered, da?”
Stavros cleared his throat. “This is progress, though. We now know that it is possible already, if very difficult to accomplish as of yet.” He turned to another of the images. “Jian Chao, what can you tell us of the meetings in Beijing with our new Secretary of Commerce?”
“They went well for the most part. She is a most shrewd negotiator in matters touching her expertise. There is one thing that disturbs me. The day of her arrival, she was invited to the Imperial Palace to meet with Wei Lung. The meeting was closed, just the two of them – not even Wei Lung's chief aide was present. And no one has any idea what was discussed. It does not seem to have been anything to do with the subsequent negotiations.”
Marubashi gave a ghost of a smile. “Dragons are rumored to plan for a very long future. Perhaps it was an attempt to recruit her to his side.”
Jian frowned. “Perhaps. It could have been an offer of betrothal, for all we know. I am uneasy that there have been no leaks at all from either side beyond the bare fact of the meeting. Whatever was discussed, both Wei Lung and Shengran Lung are holding their own counsels. And -that- indicates that whatever it was, they consider it to be of sufficient import that they are not discussing it with we mere mortals.”
Chen Ming-yu shook his head. “The ways of dragons have always been said to be opaque, my friend. We are merely getting to see it first-hand rather than in fables. If it has any bearing on the relations of the Middle Kingdom to the rest of the world it will have to come out eventually.”
“I would prefer to be able to prepare.” Jian grumbled, and lit a cigarette. “But it would be most unwise to push the issue.”
Stavros turned to Hassan. “And how are your plans faring, your Highness?”
“The American wolf seems to have been missing for a week from her usual rounds in Washington before turning up in Europe. It seems she was visiting the Kingdom of the Sahara, presumably to coordinate American action with that of Prince Haroun.”
Telnikov nodded. “Da. And she stopped off to visit Greece, accompanied by several of Europe's flashier new mages and Changelings. I am findink out that they did so to speak with the Immortal known as Tsirtseya. They have since passed on proposals to the NATO powers on dealink with refugees and infiltrators from ISIL. I am hopink you are havink nothink to do with them, your Highness. I suspect that the West will not hold off much longer in dealink with those hooligans.”
“Nothing overt, Piotr. Enough to stay on their good side should they succeed in spite of themselves. But they have made no useful plans to deal with Haroun and the other magicians, so this is an unlikely outcome.”
De Revol nodded. “I have seen their plans, and they should be effective. They intend to use empaths and telepaths to screen the refugees at the borders, while cracking down harder on illegal entry away from the checkpoints. It will allow them to be merciful in allowing refugees in, while keeping ISIL's agents out.” <And now we will learn whether or not you will pass this back to those lunatics.>
Hassan nodded. “That may very well work, and keep their more sentimental people appeased. It may also make it more difficult to move -our- people around.”
Stavros smiled. “It just means we need to arrange for our people to be screened by... less thorough people, is all. It's just a matter of asking the correct questions.”
De Revol smiled back. "Or asking ones that are vague enough to be answered truthfully but incompletely..."
Diviner and Guardian faced three mirrors and the fireplace at the old mansion in downtown Washington. The Eldest, Haroun, and Circe watched from the mirrors, waiting for the last members of the conference. Pelé and Fuego finally appeared in the fire, and the white wolf cleared her throat. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Pelé.”
“I wasn't doing much this week, Makaula. Next week, we have a lovely lava fountain planned. You're welcome to come and watch.”
Diviner smiled. “I'd love to, but it's a bit short notice. Maybe next time?”
Pelé chuckled. “So what is so important as to call all of us together?”
Haroun answered. “We are curious as to how young Fuego was able to extend his power across thousands of miles. Quetzalcoatl was obviously assisting him, but we are curious as to the actual method.”
Pelé raised a fiery eyebrow. "I thought you knew that secret yourself, Haroun? Certainly what Diviner and Guardian have told me about the night when they sealed the Pentagon indicates it."
Haroun actually looked sheepish. "Ah... yes, to an extent. But that was to take control of a spell that was already present on the far side. Not to project my own magics through the mirror."
The volcano goddess frowned. "I see. Still, this is not something asked lightly. As you noted, the Snake used it to attack his enemies at distances from which he believed himself immune to retaliation. Why do you wish this knowledge?"
The Eldest spoke. “To deal with those who send out their own youths to attack those who do not agree with them in suicide missions. You know of the ones known as ISIL, Pelé?”
“Ah. Those. Can you not use your machines to deal with them, Makaula?”
The wolf turned furred hands palm-up in a shrug. “We can, but only at the price of killing those whom they have taken as hostages or duped into following them. We wish to keep the bloodshed to a minimum, and bombs are somewhat indiscriminate even when targeted precisely.”
Pelé smiled, then, and nodded to her apprentice. “The best of reasons, my friends. A'ahi? What do you know of this?”
The young coyote paused, recalling how it had been done. “I am not sure of the spells he used. I do know that I used his scrying pool visualize the targets, as if they were no more distant than the pool showed them to be.”
Circe nodded. “You cast the spells directly into the pool, then? And the pool carried them to the target?”
Fuego nodded. “That is what happened, si. It was somewhat more strenuous than using my powers across a field, but I could feel the pool doing much of the work.”
Haroun frowned in turn. “The Snake was always most powerful with such magics. This sounds as if he could use his scrying image almost as if it was a portal, and not merely an image.”
“But any scrying image must be a portal in some sense, wouldn't it?” Diviner leaned forward. “There is something at both ends, I can sense that myself at times. And if you can bring the images across the gap, you should be able to expand that and bring other things as well. Both ways, ideally.”
“Well, not -ideally-, Diviner.” Circe was smirking. “You really don't want the target to be able to send things back at you, after all.”
The wolf nodded acknowledgment with a half-smile. “Truth. But it seems as if it should be a difference of degree, rather than kind. A matter of opening a tiny portal wider, rather than a new spell entirely.”
Haroun nodded. “It is a good place to start. Fuego, do you recall anything of the spells that Quetzalcoatl used....?”
“Not really, I fear, Senor. But... when I was hiding at Trincheras with some of his surviving priesthood, they had one of his smaller scrying pools. Shall I see if I can find it again?”
The Eldest nodded. “That would be excellent, Fuego. In the meantime...” The discussion turned technical as four elder and three young Immortals began the process of back-engineering the method.
Fuego moved through the deep places, traveling the byways of the asthenosphere on his own for the first time. The rock he moved through was almost slushy, near its melting point, but it was fully charged with mana again, and neither the heat nor the pressure held any danger to his current form. Pelé had told him what to search for, and he smiled to himself as he found the fissures she had followed to reach him the first time. He moved more slowly as he rose to his destination, letting his form cool to a temperature that ordinary humans and changelings could endure.
Pedro was tending his family's fields, a task he was more and more responsible for now as he grew up and his father got older. The little village of Trincheras was once again the isolated and quiet farming community it had always been. Things had gotten exciting for a bit four years earlier, when Felix Rico had turned into a coyote with power over fire, disappeared for a few months, and then came back and became the village patrone for a time, bringing along some evil friends who he let terrorize the villagers. And then he had left again, and without him the bird and his minions were unable to maintain their control. The church had been rebuilt, a new priest had arrived, and things were back to normal, or nearly so. Felipe had left with his cougar daughter just before the fire-lady had come and had never returned, and Benito the smith was a bull these days (the priest said minotaur), but things were quiet again.
He nearly ran when the fissure across the cornfield began to hiss steam and fumes. <Madre de Dios. Rico made a bad jefe, but at least he could stop this when it happened! But perhaps it is the fire-lady again. I shall stay as long as it seems safe.> He paused, waiting to see what would happen, and the steam did not turn into something more dangerous. He was considering returning to his plowing when Fuego appeared.
He nearly bolted when the figure of the coyote emerged from the ground, glowing as the lady had when she appeared four years before – but then he remembered what the Jefe could do, and decided that the last thing he wanted to do was offend him. He gathered up his courage and went to meet him instead, bowing respectfully. “Jefe Rico? You have returned to us?”
The coyote was dressed in gossamer shreds of volcanic glass, just as the fire-lady had been. He smiled as his body cooled. “Pedro? Is it you?” The boy nodded. “It is good to see you again. You've grown.”
Pedro swallowed, still nervous. “Senor Loro and Senorita Tegrilla are not here, Jefe. They left when the Federales came, three years ago.”
“That is just as well, Pedro. Did they leave anything behind?”
“Much of what they had, si. They departed most suddenly. What is it you wish to find?”
“There was a bowl that we kept in the hacienda. Made of obsidian, with magic upon it. Do you know where it is?”
“Padre Julio, the new priest, tried to smash it, Jefe, but none could break it. So it was exorcised and buried.”
The coyote grinned. “Excellent. Can you show me where?”
“Si, jefe.”
"So this is our prototype." The eagle gestured towards the device. "We're tentatively calling it a 'PACS' device, short for Personal Aetheric Communications Service."
Stardancer stared at the bulky thing. “This is definitely not cell phone quality, Isaac. These things are the size of one of those old console television sets. And with that mirror sticking up it looks like a piece of bedroom furniture.”
Isaac shook his head. "Unfortunately, with the current state of mana generation tech, this is as small as we can make it and still have it able to power itself. At this point, it's basically a large ham radio, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time before we can shrink it down into something handheld."
"Fair enough. Might only be practical for military work at first, but we've got to start somewhere."
"Anyway, all the operator needs to do is turn one of them on...” He touched a keypad. “...like so.” On the other side of the lab, the other mirror lit up. “And then we can talk back and forth. We've got three major hurdles out of the way. One, we have a portable device that can generate its own mana.”
Stardancer snorted. “Technically portable I suppose. -I- don't want to carry it around, though.”
Isaac nodded agreement. “Well, yes. But it's a start. Two, we were able to reverse-engineer the communications spell enough to be able create a modified version that can be permanently bound to a physical object. Three, we were able to add an interface that doesn't require a mage to use. What we really need to do now is move them out of line of sight of each other and have non-mages try them out, to make sure that we're not affecting things by being here with them. Then, if we've actually got it right, we build a couple more and start working on the networking problem. At that point, we should get hold of some actual communications engineers and see if they can give us some pointers on how we can adapt their programs to this medium.”
The Head Witch nodded. “It does look like you've got it. So why don't you all take a week off while we set up the tests with some of our mundane types? When you get back, we'll send you off to talk to Forge and see who he can recommend to translate electronic networking to magic.”
8 July 2017
Palati tis Kirkis, Nisyros, Elliniki Dimokratia
In the end they needed Reynard's help as well. The ancient Hunting Magics held the final secret they required, the ability to focus on an individual rather than a place.
Reynard, Hunter, and Circe were waiting when Diviner and Guardian rode up to the palace late in the afternoon. Nimue ushered them in to the audience chamber, while Galen brought up the rear carrying the medical transport box that had accompanied them. It was surprisingly mundane, a simple high-end picnic cooler with 'Human Tissue For Transplant' stenciled on the lid and all four sides along with the Red Cross and the medical caduceus.
The bull-morph set it down at a nod from the wolves and withdrew from the room. “As requested, Reynard. Human fat. The CDC, incidentally, now suspects we are necromancers.”
The fox snickered. “This is what you get for going through channels, Diviner. I stole it the last time I did this.”
“I do not have the luxury of rooting around for stuff in medical waste canisters without someone noticing, Reynard. You are sure that this will work?”
“It has before. It was originally intended to hunt down prey species. With a picture to focus on, you can hunt down a specific member of that species. If the method gets out, they'll probably stop letting their faces be seen, but there are ways around that.”
Lowe shrugged. “Historically, groups this extreme never last for more than a few years anyway before they start turning on themselves. They start internal witch hunts on the basis of who is most ideologically pure. We're just going to accelerate the process and see if we can get them to kill fewer innocents along the way.”
Circe nodded. “Then let us be about it. I have had two boatloads of supposed refugees try to land on Nisyros in the past month, and I tire of it.” She stood and led the way down into the caverns beneath her palace.
The American intelligence services had provided photographs and drawings of the suspected leaders of ISIL as well as arranging for the required materials, diverted from surgical waste. Reynard copied one of them onto the wall of Circe's cave while the fat burned in Quetzalcoatl's scrying bowl. Nimue and Hunter joined him in his chanting as the way opened and the images formed on the wall, a mullah holding forth to a crowd of people, gesturing to a trio of prisoners off to one side.
Lowe flinched at the words as she translated. “They are to be burned for unspecified offenses. Supposedly against the Q'ran, but...” She shook her head. “This is one we want. Your turn, Circe.” The sorceress smiled, readying her own magics. “Just tell me when, Diviner. It should be done at the proper moment.”
The wolf nodded, focusing. “He's building up... get ready for it. And... yes! Now!”
Sayeed had been a follower of ISIL almost from the beginning. Not that he was certain that they truly spoke for Allah, but because it was the best way he could think of to keep his family safe, for he could not afford to flee when they had taken control of his village three years before. <And it did not save my father when they decided they wanted his house for their use. Someday, Allah will let me avenge his blood. Until then...> He knew that the current victims had been chosen not for their impiety, but simply for their inconvenience to the leaders, but he had been unable to save them. He listened impassively to the sermon, trying not to wince when the words of the Prophet were twisted by the ranting cleric.
“...and let this be a sign to the True Followers of Islam, and a warning to the Unfaithful, that we... we...” Sayeed watched in amazement as the man faltered in mid-sentence. Bin Salaam had never lost track of what he was saying before. His amazement grew as the cleric doubled over, gasping in pain as his body changed. Coarse fur grew on his hands, his fingers shifted to blunter horn-tipped ones, and his face... his face...
Sayeed seized his chance. “Infidel! Allah has turned him into a swine for his apostasy!” The crowd surged, half fleeing the square in panic, and half starting to pelt the former human with rocks as he desperately tried to run.
Nobody there even noticed when he released the prisoners.
Guardian noticed, though, as he watched the images from seven hundred miles away. “Remember that one, Diviner. I think he's got a mind of his own.”
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