Fyre Fly: Chapter 32 – Communication 101

I don’t end up visiting Hetopolis. The idea of leaving the Dungeon Core unguarded makes me uneasy, no matter how irrational the thought may be. Instead I spend the next three days showing more visitors around, working more trade deals, and making money. Literally making money. I feel guilty every time I do it, but we need the supplies, and the merchants are more than happy to accept our gold and silver.

I also commission a custom piece of artificing. I’m expecting it to arrive today, in one of the last shipments before we leave the city behind us.

The gods don’t return in that time. I should be relieved, but it just makes me more anxious. Are they actually here, but watching in disguise? I wish they would return already so I could stop worrying about when it was going to happen.

I unhappily poke at my blueseed salad, attempting to summon an appetite.

“Something is bothering you,” Gardi says.

I look up in surprise. While they’ve started answering others in monosyllabic responses, it’s rare for them to start a conversation themself. Salvia, sitting on their other side, eyes them suspiciously. Our visitors have all left or are preparing to leave, so lunch is just the three of us, and unusually quiet.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind lately,” I admit. “I keep waiting for things to slow down so I can catch my breath, but each day only seems to be getting more busy and complex. I suspect things won’t actually settle until we find somewhere to make our permanent home.”

“Why not put down here?” Gardi asks, continuing to surprise me. “You formed good relations with the people on this coast already.”

“That is a fair point, but there’s no reason to rush into a decision,” I say. “We’ve a few months still before we need to make a choice. Not to mention, I think the Fyrethians would prefer a cooler climate to a tropical one. And it would be nice if we could land somewhere with more access to mana ore.”

While the mana we have is keeping the city floating, it’s also keeping the city powered. All our water collection and atmospheric spells, all the lights in the palace, all the cauldrons in the kitchen, run off the magic that had been absorbed by the Dungeon Core when it consumed all the nearby mana ore before we left Jorria.

The bonus mana that’s now in the Core’s interface is a limited resource. The Dungeon Core could recreate the mana ore it had previously consumed, of course, but that version would be empty, and it would take a very long time for the mana ore to re-accumulate ambient magic from its surroundings. In an ideal scenario, we’d find a new mana ore mine somewhere in the world and land there. Once it was wired into the Fortress, we’d be able to regulate how much mana we could sustainably drain from parts of the ore, while allowing the rest to recharge.

Gardi snorts. “Good luck with that. Mana ore is a coveted resource. Unless you’ve got a way to find an undiscovered vein, it’s unlikely any mines will be willing to sell theirs to you.”

I frown. I suppose I should have expected that. Stone that can capture magic from the air and store it for anyone to use is probably a highly valuable resource in this world. Which means we can probably even sell the drained mana ore the Core has in its Inventory for a pretty penny. But that doesn’t help us with trying to find a sustainable way to power the Fortress.

“Fair point,” I reply. “I suppose we’ll have to keep our options open, then. And what about you?” I ask. “Today’s your last chance if you want to be released in Hetopolis.”

I can practically see them retreat back into their shell. They look down at their half-eaten meal. “It’s too close to Mount Haze.” ‘And Ragna’ goes unsaid. “Perhaps the next city.”

I decide to change the subject before they can cloister themself up once more. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Have you heard of a god named Blair? Some kind of… temporal paladin.”

Gardi pauses, then gives me a curious look. I guess that did a good job of surprising them out of their self-isolation. “I didn’t think any of you would be interested in learning about the gods.”

I attempt a casual shrug. “It never hurts to be informed. One of our visitors mentioned her, and since I know basically nothing about the gods, I thought I would ask.”

This isn’t entirely true. I’ve spent some time interrogating Echo about Blair and Lisari in the time since their visit. At first, neither name got me anything from her: [The database does not have accessible information on the subject.] But when I asked about Shirasil instead, Echo had provided a little more.

[Shirasil: a prominent god in the pantheon. Sometimes referred to as the Inquisitor, they are often associated with invention, exploration, and the pursuit of knowledge. However, scholars typically choose Lorata over Shirasil as the patron god of choice, given Lorata’s association with foresight is often seen as a more reliable guiding force than Shirasil’s idiosyncratic ingenuity.]

Two days ago, I was also able to get my hands on a scroll about the pantheon, and I’ve been poring over it ever since. Again, no Lisari was mentioned, but there was a Shirasil, and the accompanying illustration seemed to match Lisari close enough. The scroll mentioned Shirasil was often depicted as a human, with eyes filled with black smoke, and alchemic tools hanging at his hip. I’m not sure what Lisari’s eyes looked like, hidden behind her dark glasses, but she also presented herself as a human alchemist. It’s enough parallels for me to believe they’re the same person.

But once more, there had been no mention of Blair. I couldn’t even find a god similar to her domain: High Partitioner. Then again, I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

“The name Blair is not familiar to me,” Gardi says after a moment.

I’m disappointed, but not surprised; like Lisari, she could be using a pseudonym. “Thanks anyway. Though I would be interested in picking your brain about some other gods at some point.”

They give me a skeptical look. “I’m sure you can learn more from a book than from me.”

“True,” I agree, “but talking to people about it and getting their perspectives can often be more enlightening.”

Gardi goes back to eating their meal. Salvia continues to watch both of us, intent but quiet. I never know what’s going through their head.

We finish up and start to make our way back down the city toward the dock, where our last supply-run should soon be arriving. As we walk, Gardi speaks up again. I hope it becomes a trend.

“Which gods did you want to know about?”

Lorata is probably an important one to get a Jorrian’s opinion on, but that’s also a rather touchy subject—for both individuals present. I decide to focus on the one god I do know a little about.

“What can you tell me about Shirasil?” I ask. “I know he is some sort of scientist god, but that’s about it.”

From Echo and the scroll, I’ve learned that there are forty-one gods all told, though only a handful are prominently featured in stories, while the rest appear less powerful, or at least, less well known and worshipped.

Drawing parallels to Greek mythology, Lorata, god of light and head of the pantheon, would be their Zeus. Shirasil would be on the level of Olympian Gods, like one of Zeus’s children (though as far as I can tell, none of the gods on this world are related, and all seem to be childless). And I suspect Blair—or whoever she really is—might be on a lower tier, though that is merely speculation based on how the two interacted with one another.

“Shirasil is often associated with alchemy,” Gardi says. “The fusion of artificing and potionry. He is said to be curious, meddlesome, and… volatile.”

Curious and meddlesome matches what I experienced. “Volatile?”

“There are conflicting stories about the god,” Gardi admits. “Some paint him as patient and helpful while other stories show him being angry and destructive. In some tales, he is Lorata’s closest ally, and in others, he resents her for a past slight. It’s difficult to tell if this is because some of the stories are incorrect, or if they are all true and Shirasil’s mood changes like the wind.”

It’s becoming more and more clear that Shirasil has some history with Lorata. That probably doesn’t bode well for us if she finds out—not matter if he’s her friend or foe.

“She’s also associated with wind,” Salvia abruptly adds.

Right—Gardi isn’t the only one here with some knowledge on the gods. I imagine the lost colony would have had more opportunities to interact with the outside world than those trapped underground; it makes sense they might know more than the average Fyrethian.

“But Rinviu is the true wind god,” Gardi quickly counters.

Salvia sniffs. “I never said Shirasil was the true wind god. Merely that she can sometimes be associated with it. Shadows, too.”

For a moment I marvel at the two sharing a conversation. Or, more of an argument, really. But I’ll take it.

“Sorry,” I interrupt when it’s clear Gardi is about to disagree with Salvia again. “I hope this isn’t insensitive. But Gardi used ‘he’ for Shirasil, and Salvia you just used ‘she.’ I’ve also received some mixed information on this in my research. Is Shirasil a man or a woman?”

They shrug. “Either,” Gardi says at the same time Salvia says, “Both.”

This doesn’t entirely clear up the matter for me, but at least I got the two to agree on something. Kind of.

“So to sum up,” I say, “she’s associated with alchemy, wind, shadows, and meddling?” I get affirmative nods from the two. “That doesn’t sound very… cohesive.”

Gardi chuckles. “It’s not. But that’s why he’s the god of chaos.”

“No,” Salvia interjects. “It’s not chaos. It’s change.”

Gardi scowls. “But all of his stories are ones of destruction.”

“Change can be destructive,” Salvia counters. “Which fits with the association of alchemy. And wind! You said so yourself earlier—her mood changes like the wind.”

“That’s coincidental,” Gardi grumbles, clearly annoyed their words are being used against them. “And change can also be chaotic. But given his association with shadows…”

I back out of the conversation and let the two go at it. I have no idea who’s right, but it’s good for them to be finding more constructive ways to express their friction with each other.

When we get to the dock, they’re still bickering, though the conversation has now moved onto Rinviu, the god of wind, and whether or not their domain overrides Shirasil’s.

I meet up with Nek as Gardi and Salvia fall behind me, too engaged in their heated debate to pay attention to much else. Nek stares at them.

“I think it’s an improvement,” I say with a chuckle. “At least they’re not trying to kill each other.”

“If words could kill, it would be a bloodbath.” Nek peels his eyes away from them. “We’ve just finished unloading the last shuttle. There’s one package that was marked for you personally.”

I brighten. “Excellent! I’ve been waiting for this. Where can I find it?”

Nek shows me over to the cargo as I mentally reach out to Ollie. “Are you busy? I’ve got something for you at the dock.”

Ollie perks up in my head. “FOR ME? WHAT IS IT?”

“A present.” I grin when his mind starts bubbling with excitement.

“I’M COMING, I’M COMING!”

Sure enough, the dragon arcs around from the opposite side of the Fortress, beating a hasty flight in our direction.

I laugh. “Slow down! The present isn’t going anywhere. Unless you knock it off the wall with all that wind of yours.”

His wings immediately snap into a glide, which he maintains the rest of the way to the wall. When he touches down on his landing pad, only a faint breeze accompanies him.

“WHAT IS IT?” he asks, craning his head over to us. He can’t quite reach, but he’s learned to stay on his landing pad and off the dock, both so he can move without worrying about squishing someone, and so the dock workers can continue their jobs without having to worry about being squished.

Nek hands the package to me. It’s the size of my hand.

“Smaller than I expected,” I admit. Nek is clearly curious, so I beckon for him to join us. As I head over to Ollie’s perch, I unravel the twine and unwrap the burlap, and when I pull the last layer aside, I reveal a glittering blue jewel. It’s as big as my fist and shaped like a rhombus. Holding it up for Ollie to see, it feels pitifully small in comparison.

“OOOOOH!” Ollie says, his eyes going wide. “A JEWEL! AND IT’S FOR ME?” He raises a claw like he wants to grab it, but knows he’s not supposed to and would probably hurt me, so instead settles for pawing at the air.

“It is. Now hold on.”

I lift the jewel from its wrappings to reveal it’s hanging from a small metal chain—the variety designed for a human’s neck, not a dragon’s.

“I might need your wife’s help to come up with a better way to secure this to him,” I tell Nek. “But I guess this will do for now. Ollie, hold out your hand.”

He eagerly raises a claw, bumping lightly into me in his excitement. I grab his massive finger to hold it steady, then slip the necklace over it like a ring.

“You might need to close your hand around it,” I tell him. “The jewel has to be touching you for it to work.” At least, I hope it will work.

Ollie curls his claws into a fist, and the stone vanishes beneath his grasp. “WHAT WILL WORK?” he asks me.

At the same time, a very quiet and muffled, “What will work?” comes from his paw.

Nek gasps. “Is that a translation stone?”

“WHOAAAAA!” Ollie says, and a tiny “whoaaaa” comes from the stone. He turns his paw over to look at the stone. “IT SAYS WHAT I’M THINKING!”

“It says what I’m thinking!”

The voice is quiet, sounds a bit robotic, and is definitely not that of a child, but it’s more than I could have hoped for. I grin as relief and joy overtake me.

“BOO!”

“Boo.”

“ECHO!”

“Ech—”

“NO, NOT YOU, ECHO, I WAS TALKING TO THE SAPPHIRE.”

“No, not you, Echo, I was talking to the sapphire.”

Ollie breaks down into a fit of giggles, which the jewel replicates in a robot and very creepy manner. Well, it’s almost everything I could have hoped for.

“It is a translator stone,” I reply to Nek. “I spoke with one of our lamia visitors about the devices they use to communicate with those who can’t sign, and thought it might help bridge the communication gap for Ollie, too.”

“Amazing,” Nek says, looking up at Ollie in awe. “Ollie… can you hear me?”

“I CAN ALWAYS HEAR YOU,” Ollie replies.

When the translator repeats this, Nek tears up. “Of course. Well, I’m happy I can finally hear you.”

He’s going to make me tear up, too. After all this time, finally, finally, he’ll be able to talk to people and make friends. He’ll be able to regain a sliver of the childhood he deserves.

I pat Ollie’s hand to regain his attention. “You asked if I could form a psionic link with Meritis so you two could communicate. I’m not ready to add anyone else to our mental network, but I thought this might be a good alternative.”

“I LOVE IT!” Ollie cries, and the translator repeats. “I CAN’T WAIT TO SHOW MERITIS! EVEN IF IT’S VERY TINY AND QUIET.”

“Dizzi might be able to help with that,” I muse. She didn’t have any of the runic knowledge to make something like this before, but we’ve obtained several magic theory books over the last few weeks, and Dizzi is soaking up every piece of literature placed in front of her like a sponge.

“In the meantime, be careful with it,” I tell him. “Until we can find a better way to secure it to you, if you drop it, that’s it.”

“I WON’T DROP IT,” he promises, excitedly bouncing from foot to foot. The wall rumbles with each excited hop. “CAN I GO SHOW HIM NOW?”

“Sure,” I say with a laugh. I can’t imagine the look on Meritis’s face when he hears Ollie speak for the first time. “Go have fun.”

“YAY!” Ollie spins away, and Nek and I have to duck to avoid getting hit by his tail. Ollie opens his wings and crouches, ready to launch, then just as abruptly whirls back to face us, like he’d forgotten something.

He excitedly nuzzles me, which feels a lot like getting punched in the chest by Mirzayael during a sparring match. I stumble, throwing my arms around his nose to keep from being knocked to the ground.

“THANK YOU!” Ollie cries (“Thank you.”) “THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! I LOVE YOU, FYRE!”

“I love you, too, Ollie.”

Then he spins around and jumps into the air, letting out a gleeful roar.