Preserving the Ingenairii (60 page)

Satisfied that he had accomplished what he intended, Alec stepped back, grasped the amulet, and set his mind’s goal for his body to return to the physical world.
 
With that he was suddenly in a stomach churning transition for a millisecond, and then he was lying on the cot in Stracha’s tent, looking at her naked back.
 
He stared as his mind took seconds to comprehend what had occurred,
then
he sat up abruptly.
 
“Stracha, I think I did it!” he called.

“Alec!” she shrieked, pulling her nightgown rapidly down over her body.
 
“I’m getting ready for bed; have you no manners?”

“Oh thank the Lord you’re alive,” she said more generously a moment later and hugged him fiercely with her gown now in place.

“When your body disappeared, I told people it was probably actually a good sign!
 
Where have you been and what have you done?” she asked.

“I’ve been in the energy realm,” Alec said excitedly.
 
“I went in to try to find the power to translocate, and I found it.
 
Now I just need to see if my body can acquire the energy and bring it back here with me.
 
Sit quiet with me for a moment,” he patted a spot on the cot next to him, and then closed his eyes as he began sending his spirit weaving through the gray area between world, trying to find the ragged entrance to the translocator realm.
  
His body was acclimated to the feel of the energy, and his mind grasped the manner in which the energy wished to be used, and he used those concepts to keep his spirit guided towards the proper energy source.

Ahead he saw a shining light, and upon closer inspection, it proved to be the irregular opening he had created.
 
His spirit plunged inward, assuming the strange image of a traveler, a man carrying a pack, holding a staff, wearing boots and a hat and a cape, ready to move at a moment’s notice to any location.
 
Alec felt his image being lured by the promise of exotic travel in ways and to places he could not comprehend, places he thought the energy was fabricating just to lure him.
 
His body saturated with the energy, Alec turned and exited through the opening, bringing the translocation power with him back to Stracha’s tent.

“Watch this, Stracha,” he said as he opened his eyes and looked around the tent.
 
He stood up, picked a spot in the far corner of the tent, created the picture in his mind, and then willed himself into it.
 
Suddenly he was standing on the opposite side of the tent, facing Stracha instead of standing next to her.
 
He felt an indefinable twinge as he processed the energy for the jump; it was unpleasant, but brief and mild.

“Alec!” she shrieked with happy delight.
 
“You did it!
 
There’s never been anyone like you in all the history of the ingenairii, I’m sure!
 
Let me see your new mark,” she demanded, walking across the tent to him and pulling his sleeve up.
 
There above his time travel hour-glass was a shining representation of a galloping horse, its mane seeming to ripple in some ever-blowing breeze.

“How long was I in the energy realm?” Alec asked as he released his powers and they sat down.

“Two days without your body, and an additional day with your body,” she told him simply.

Alec tried to remember the circumstances before he departed.
 
“So three days altogether?
 
And the armistice is about to expire?”

“That’s what Givens tells me.
 
The field marshal would probably like to know you’re back among us.
 
I think he was getting nervous,” Stracha reported.

“I’ll go let him know I’m back,” Alec said.
 
He stood and walked to the door.
 
“And Stracha, for goodness sake, try to be better dressed the next time I stop in to visit!” he grinned as he dodged a shoe she tossed at him, and he walked hurriedly across the compound to the headquarters tent where the general staff congregated.
 
Alec arrived and asked that the field marshal be informed of his arrival,
then
he went inside and began practicing his translocation energy, moving from one corner of the tent to another, moving with increasing rapidity as he grew more sure of his actions, and feeling the desire to try longer jumps.
 
Every jump brought the same stomach-churning unpleasantry.

“My Lord!” he heard an exclamation as he jumped from one side of the tent to the other.
 
Ulltar and Millerson were standing in the door way of the tent, and had just witnessed one of his movements.
 
“Is this what the healer lady told us you were trying to learn?”

“This is it,” Alec agreed.
 
“Not particularly useful for more than a carnival trick at the moment, but with a little practice at making longer jumps, it will become an incredible tool.”

“Or weapon,” Millerson added.

“Or weapon,” Alec agreed.
 
“What’s happening with the Michian forces?
 
Is the armistice expired?
 
Have they sent any messages?”

“All is silent so far,” Ulltar answered.
 
“We assume the armistice is expired, and are prepared in case they attack.”

“That sounds appropriate,” Alec considered.
 
“I’m going to go to Michian. Don’t do anything until I get back, unless you’re attacked.
 
You know how to run the army; you’ve been doing it for years.
 
I’ll come back and let you know what my plans are.”
 
With that he focused on his own tent, and translocated back to it.

Alec went to bed to sleep, to recover from the exhausting trip to the ingenaire realm.
 
When he woke the sun was rising outside the tent, and he felt refreshed.
 
Gathering up a handful of coins, he stuffed them in his pocket, then jumped backward in time to the night before, and looked down on himself sleeping.
 
He then concentrated on the place in Michian he wanted to go to, a small lawn sheltered by bushes, looking out over a quiet lake on the estate of the Indige clan.
 
He called upon his translocation powers, and activated the jump.

The distance he traveled made a difference in the jump, he realized.
 
He felt suspended in a cold, numbing nothingness for several seconds before he felt the ground beneath his feet and he saw the lake in front of him, starlight reflecting off its surface.
 
He paused and took a deep breath, frightened by what he had just done, but pleased with the results.
 
He tried for a moment to imagine what the world would be like if more ingenairii started to develop the use of the translocation power.
 
Traveling ingenairii would be able to deliver messages, even urgently needed medications, but they would also become assassins and voyeurs and spies.
 
But those thoughts were irrelevant now.
 
Whatever the consequences might prove to ultimately be, he had opened this power up, and he was in Michian with a plan to take advantage of it.
 

He shook his head, feeling something that he could only explain to himself as an energy usage muscle sprain.
 
He had stretched the use of his powers, and done it with a form of energy he wasn’t fully in control of.
 
The pain he felt was like the unpleasantry he had noticed on his small practice jumps, but magnified.
 
Was it a result of the fact that the power was coming to the real world through a ragged opening?
 
Was the power just not meant to be used by humans?
 
He didn’t know, but he realized that for the time being it would be difficult to use his energies until he felt better.
 
For now, he assumed, that would be okay, because now he was in Michian, and only needed to find Jeswyne.

Cautiously, he pushed the shrubbery aside and began to stroll across the lawns, passing the house and jumping over a high fence to get to the street.
 
He planned to go first to the promenade, to listen to the people talk and gossip, so that he might have a chance to learn where Jeswyne was being held.
 
As he walked along the street, he considered his clothing.
 
He was wearing a white tunic, which marked him as a member of no clan.
 
How that would be perceived in the present climate, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to take a chance by trying to pass as a member of a clan he didn’t belong to; there was too much chance of discovery in that.
 
Nor did he want to talk very much.
 
He could imitate the drawl of the Michian residents for a few words, but he knew he couldn’t join any lengthy conversation.

He remembered the wagon ride to the promenade had been only a few minutes long, and although he didn’t remember the precise directions, he did remember enough to head in the general direction of the river, where he was sure a bridge would take him into the promenade location.
 
His instincts turned out to be correct.
 
He found a bridge, and across the river the opposite bank was alight with torches and lanterns and candles, all of which illuminated a thronging mass of people enjoying the promenade.

Chapter 46 – Rescuing the Emperor

Alec returned to the entry of the promenade, where an official stopped him, seemingly at random as Alec joined an endless stream of people walking into the festive gathering.
 
“Are you here as entertainment?”
 
The man asked.
 
“You know we can’t let you in with all those weapons; it’s the emperor’s orders.”

Alec reached for his warrior powers, and felt discomfort that made him release the energy.
 
Cautiously, he reached again for the ingenairii ability, and pulled only a trickle of power into his body at a level of discomfort he could tolerate, pulled out four knives, and began juggling them in the air.
 
Then he stabbed his hand down to his hip and pulled out a sword, which he added to the circle of flying blades, and a smattering of applause erupted from the passersby.
 
Alec heard the clink of small coins being thrown at his feet in appreciation of his talent.
 
Gathering in the knives and putting them all back in place, he picked up the coins, dropped a couple into the surprised palm of the official,
then
bowed.

“By all means, move along and don’t cut yourself,” the man laughed as he pocketed the coins and slapped Alec on the back.
 
Alec bowed and quickly slipped into the stream of traffic.
 
He stopped at an empty alcove and pulled out his knives, and began juggling again, adding both swords to the mix, and listening to the comments among the crowd that stopped to watch.
 
The conversations were guarded when folks mentioned the emperor, or discretely referred to the change in administration, Alec noted.
 
But it was early yet, and not many men had drunk much wine.
 
He expected their tongues to loosen as the night progressed.
 
Judging from the number of guards that were walking through the crowds, the authorities had the same concern.

Catching and sheathing all his blades, Alec bowed to his small cluster of observers,
then
knelt to pick up the coins and deposit them in his purse.
 
He moved along to buy a meat pie and some berry juice, then stood in a new spot and listened to the crowds.
 
The conversations were personal, and Alec blushed at one or two suggestions he heard.
 
He finished his pie and began walking
again,
hoping that the crowds near the imperial veranda would be more focused on topics like Jeswyne’s fate.

His judgment proved correct.
 
As he stood within sight of the imperial family members that were observing the crowds below him, he heard Jeswyne’s name immediately.
 
“Poor Lady Jeswyne.
 
She’ll be forced to marry that cretin Nabakov at the end of the tournament if he wins the swordsmanship competition.
 
Can you imagine having a man like that for a husband?
 
Would you want to wake up to that face in the morning?” he heard one girl say to another.