6. N #4
Fungus, mushrooms, for instance. There were some fast growing vegetables—in fact, he could barely remember, from his childhood, some vegetables that were so prolific they were despised and only eaten by the lower classes.
Some kind of summer squash, he thought …
if there were seeds of that still remaining, that might be a better option than grain.
And—yes! There had been something that was used as a ground cover with edible leaves that had actually been banned because its growth was measurable in hours!
That would have the disadvantage of being more perishable, but perhaps some means of preservation … .
Or just pitch it through the Gates to the other cities and let them worry about how to distribute it before it wasn’t edible anymore. Or convert that to rations instead of algae, it probably wouldn’t need as much work, and only a little tweaking to make it taste decently and last longer.
The lord who controlled that would be, well, essential, and able to write his own commission.
Haldeen let his ambition, usually kept under tight rein, have its full flower.
He would know the Gates. He would control the Machinas.
He would direct the research. And he would be the one to control the food.
No more Lord Technical. For all practical purposes, he would be a king.
A king with none of the concerns or obligations of a king.
Haldeen went back to Kilfenora’s transcript and carefully reread the portions relating to Triana’s use of brute animals for simple labor. Well supervised, with limited cognition, and already used to heavy labor. He had his labor force.
Now, how to take it?
Triana served as their sole example of what the ruling elven lords on the other side appeared to be, and so far, Haldeen wasn’t impressed.
Her discussions with Nora, amplified by Nora’s notes, reflected Haldeen’s own assessment.
Triana appeared intelligent but basically lazy, and seemed to represent her social class …
the beneficiaries of a tremendous amount of concentrated and unearned wealth.
Wealth passed down to them that they took for granted, along with their elevated place in the world.
So very different from our highborns, he thought dryly.
The elves had conquered that world, and became elven lords he reckoned, only because the natives had not known magic, and in that world, magic, even weak magic, would have been a tremendous advantage.
Once conquered, the cowed and controlled masses created an endless stream of wealth.
The sort of wealth that he quickly decided would do nicely when concentrated around him.
He flipped back through Nora’s transcripts.
She had included a bit on magic … not much detail, so far.
The abilities related by Triana appeared weak by his standards, mostly illusions and fiddly woman’s magic.
Good enough for endless surgeries, but nothing that would come close to the routine battle-magics the Kings and Lords launched at the Predators … or in earlier ages … at each other.
He leafed through the pages. Not much yet on the government or military structures, though quite a bit of gossipy politics.
Triana had a number of axes to grind, and wasn’t shy about dishing.
Taking even a portion of the stories at face value meant a ruling class that spent most of its time drinking, screwing, and plotting against each other.
He scanned Nora’s assessment, Triana told a good story, and could be charming when she wanted something.
Reduce the tales by two thirds to account for exaggeration, and it still didn’t flatter her contemporaries.
No one would see him coming, and if he could manage even a small supply of top quality fighting Machinas, it might be over in an afternoon.
No need for a military genius. Just roll (or walk in), and unleash the concentrated spell power of the Machinas, and take over.
Kill the owners of a few estates, and charge the neighbors tribute.
He felt his headache fade as his excitement built.
He had never been happier for a design flaw in his life.
He had nineteen brand-new devices at his disposal.
Report the design flaw, and use that to have them taken off the line.
Bring one here to his workshop for study.
Figure out to break it down into loads small enough to take through the Transit Gate, and reassemble.
Use what he had learned building his Probe to power them once they had been assembled.
Clearly he could not count on ambient magic, but …
well … the personal magic of condemned prisoners might well be enough, and if they died in the process, well, they had already been condemned, so it didn’t matter.
He had also figured out how to transfer magical energy from the Transit Gate to the big World Gate …
perhaps that process could be reversed? He wouldn’t know until he got there.
He stopped cold at that. For this to work, he would have to go.
Him. He did not consider himself to be a physical coward …
after all, he had stood in the Tower just a few days ago, protected from harm only by fate and air.
But, he had always been happy to let others do the risky parts, and reserving for himself the thinking parts.
He considered that part very carefully. He had been pretty casual about the survival prospects of whatever he sent through the Gate, right up to the moment that list included him.
He took the king’s message at face value.
They were running out of food, and if rioting citizens didn’t get them, then the Monsters outside looked more threatening as time went on.
He might hold the key that saved the city, even the entire consortium of city-states, and (greatly) enriched him.
He was much closer to success on the Small Gate.
He began to sketch, working hastily and drawing out the connections, the things he needed to proceed.
He could work out the technical pieces on his own, and divide up what he needed from others into small enough pieces to hide his intentions.
The parts he didn’t know came back to Triana, and what she held in her head, her knowledge of her world.
The only ones who would know enough to deduce his plans were the tutor and the physician.
He had bought them both off, but would have to monitor them to ensure they stayed bought.
Nora seemed intelligent, for a woman, and might understand her interests would lie with preserving his secrets, but the physician … whatever was her name?
Didn’t matter. She might feel the need to make her report, even after his offer … and that would reveal more about Triana’s world, and its magical weakness, than Haldeen was comfortable sharing. The physician might not be smart enough to hold her tongue.
He pondered that for a moment. Could he, if it came to it, silence her?
He scanned back across Triana’s casual brags about her riches. She’d confessed to Nora that she was not even in the top tier of the elven lords and yet had estates (plural!) along with hundreds of herd-beasts and laborers, and affluence she literally wallowed in.
Yes, he thought, for that kind of wealth, I most certainly could.