Nathan Free, Natalie Bound Chapter 78: Javelin

Sotis nothing interesting happens during sorcery practice, and literature class can be kind of slow if Tiviti is still basking after her last monster-murders. The teacher wanted us to write a bunch of free-verse poetry, so I hit her with about twenty songs worth of lyrics to dazzle her with my brilliance while I basically slept through her class. It's an amazing advantage to have a world's worth of culture to crib from. I was not looking forward to returning to Developing Theories, my advanced cutting-edge science class. Up until Fiveday this had been aweso, with one demonstration after another of what these aweso people had done with the basics I had given them. Now, I've got this asshole that is labeled as one of my love interests for so fucking reason.... I'm okay. Really. It's not like Nux Gysmo is ruining my entire life - my mood. He's not going to ruin my mood today. After all, I say to myself, he's probably still in restraints in whatever barbaric state this nation keeps people that are clearly broken and a danger to themselves and everyone- Fuck he's right here. I stand in the doorway of the basent area of Natural Philosophy. Like all good university departnts the brochure-ready public-facing functions are up in the main building clearly labeled from the directory, and all the novel unique work is being done in a breathless basent space that used to be storage for centenarian furniture that should probably be referred to the historical archives. The concrete walls are stained even after scrubbing, the room never seems fully lit no matter how many candles we set up or how many experints are flaring open arcs of electricity. It's a sanctum of hard work and innovation, practically a shrine. Nux Gysmo is here, and he's wearing a lab coat like all of the faculty. His hands are shackled in front of him and there's two orderlies standing by with cudgels to beat him down if he makes the wrong move or tries to eat soone. He's swaying on his feet as if dancing to music that doesn't exist, even for . And he's smiling a wide, cheek-pulling, facial-tic smile. A muscle-cramping lip-cracking grimace that is trying to tear his face, and he's pointing it right at like a loaded gun. He's flanked on the sides by the other scientists, the philosophers of nature who have co to understand the works of the gods and instead have been fed a course of my knowledge like a perversion of what they were ant to know. And now the facts I wrote down and sold to the world have created a host of new inventions that are reshaping what is possible. For a thousand years, machines were things to tell ti or to run a conveyor belt. But now thanks to there were machines that could move n and change the world and break soone's mind. And one of those broken minds is staring at through unblinking eyes. And twenty feet behind him, almost at the far end of the room, was Dean Corder standing with a satisfied smirk, waiting for us to give him sothing else to claim credit for. I fucking hate this. But, I have to get out in front of it. "So, let's discuss electric fences," I said. "We can make a barrier that not only stops people trying to cross it, but sets off an alarm to let us know where and when they try to cross. Picket lines miles across that you can cover with a handful of wires instead of patrolling soldiers." Dean Corder looked gluttonously gleeful. I tried to ignore him. The hive of scientific inquiry was imdiately buzzing with speculation and math, several of them running to workstations to put together small-scale models. Nux Gysmo was standing nearby, bobbing his head slightly. His hair waved back and forth in ti. "If you use very very sharp fences that cut to touch them," he said, "you'll need to adjust for how blood affects conductivity." I ntion electric fences and he's already jumping to concertina wire. Great. While the rocket scientists scurried around to perfect electric fences in a single afternoon and Dean Corder pottered around trying to get estimates for how much money this could bring in for the Academy, I walked over to Nux, nodding to his handlers. "Don't worry fellas, I just need a private word with the big guy," I said, indicating towards [ The Madman ]. He was easily two heads taller than , and we had seen him make so shockingly fast movents before. "Sorry milady, but he's dangerous and it's our asses if he hurts anyone," said one orderly, gripping a truncheon hard. I smiled. "That's very considerate of you. But soone was incomplete about your briefing. I'm Natalie Harigold." "The duchess?" the port-side orderly said. "The murderess," said the starboard orderly. "The sorceress," I corrected. "I can manage him barehanded." "He bites." They were almost convinced. "He'd chip his teeth," I assured him. And with their blessing I took Nux by the elbow and dragged him away from his minders. He stumbled as he went, and his eyes were boring into like he was trying to hate to death. When we had enough space to call it privacy, and stopped, with my hand on his arm, thumb pinching at his elbow. "Now, Nux baby," I said, voice low, "I want you to know that all that hostility between your friends and myself doesn't need to be a big deal. I think that it's possible for us to work together and-" "Mixture, solution, emulsion, suspension," he said, grinding his teeth. "What?" He shook his head as if to clear away bright lights. "There are voltages that lock the muscles, and voltages that stop the heart. We can use a selector dial to apply either one. You can paint with fear if you take the green out," he said, the words jangling together like a hiccup tried to growl. He's trying to communicate sothing, but that is one of many parts of him broken. "That's true, but what did-" He leaned down, and held my gaze with very wide, very serious eyes. "I speak in tongues and teeth and lungs, lunges and tithes and beating drums." "That doesn't follow from -" "We're going ho to the crossroad of humming skulls," he snarled, agitated now. His teeth clacked together, snapping bone-on-bone. The orderlies hustled forward. "That's enough, Nux, take it easy," the starboard said, grabbing the tall boy's lab coat and pulling him back away from . Port-side grimaced my way. "He gets lucid for natural philosophy and machines, but other than that..." "Other than that?" "Well, you never know what he's going to say, but it's not going to make sense. And if he gets excited he starts biting." Oh. He's not just ntally ill, he's mad like only fictional characters can really go mad. This is not a trauma response or a psychotic break, this is 'cuckoo for cocoa'. He's "TV crazy". "Huh," I said, rubbing my chin with my forefinger. How am I supposed to cope with a love interest who's belfry-batty in such an improbable and unrealistic way? This will take more consideration. I've got things to think about. But oddly, this might make things easier in the long run. I had thought of him as being an angry young man with a hard grudge against who is trying to ruin my work. But he's a mad scientist. Not a psychologically-troubled engineer or a neurotic researcher, a mad scientist. And that ans he's not an enemy to overco or a personality to negotiate with: he's a puzzle to solve. He's got levers to pull and switches to manipulate. I can do this. "You're in a better mood," Trazom pointed out. I was standing around waiting to walk him to music class, and giving him a good look-over. He had chin-length hair swept back from a widow's peak, and a face that was serious and moody but never quite stern. Stormy eyes, very intense. It was a good look. He would make good arm candy. I could use so good arm candy. "I am," I said brightly. "The guy that was annoying last week turns out to be much easier to deal with than I expected. And I don't have as many enemies as I thought I did. I'm settling in here at school, I'm getting a sense of normality and balance to . Also, I had a good weekend. One that I needed a lot more than I thought I did. It's amazing what just a couple good days can do for you." He nodded, and gave an encouraging smile. "I'm glad to hear it. You're very tightly-wound sotis, and I think you look a lot better when you've relaxed so." Great, thanks, everything I do is about looking good for you, jerk. So maybe I'm a little bitter about so things. Just a little. Trazom is a gifted young man but he's got a very ordinary sort of thoughtlessness to him. "So, do you have plans next weekend?" I asked him, artlessly changing topics. After all, I wanted to talk about the ways that his image could benefit , not the other way around. "Practice," he said, shrugging. "The first couple years of Academy are almost entirely seclusion, and potentially an opportunity to train myself more intensely than I've ever trained before." Oh. "Oh," I said out loud, and I sounded just as disappointed out loud. "That's actually a really great point. So, I should not invite you to co out to a gala event with on Sixthday? I know you get pressured about these things but if you don't feel like playing I will understand." "I would love to," he said instantly, smiling my way. "There is a massive difference between being cooped up for one-hundred-and-sixty hours each week, and being cooped up for one-hundred-and-sixty-eighthours each week. I don't care if it's an avant-garde music festival made entirely of chalkboard-scratching and cracking walnuts." "I haven't checked the program, but I feel like soone would have ntioned to if that was the roster," I said, and patted his arm. "I an yes, it's a musical event, but I don't think it's going to be nearly so experintal as that." He hacked a small laugh. "What other sorts of events are there?" "What a- hang on. Sorry, gotta dive on that real quick. Enefiat, does anyone ever invite you out to anything that is not musical in nature?" He looked at like I had asked him if he had tickets to a celestial body that does not exist. "Like what?" he said, scoffing. "Like a dinner party for smaller groups?" I suggested. "Or public readings, signings, ga nights? Stand-up cody, painting, picnics? Conventions, team sports? Auctions?" He rocked back, dazed. I felt like I'd just slapped him forehand-backhand several tis in a row, he was blinking as if struck. "Wh- sorry?" he blurted out. I was struck by how small this man's life might really be. "Hey," I said, using a softer voice. "Do you think it'd be nice to try so of those things? Maybe spaced out so, over the next year or so?" He turned to stare ahead of us, watching the walkway shrink between us and the music hall. "I know about picnics," he said, as if slightly offended. "I've just... not thought about that in a long ti. It might be nice to try so of those things that I've forgotten about." "This Sixthday," I said. "I'm going to Vancy's county for perfu shopping. I can talk to her about including a picnic lunch, and I'll bring you along. Then in the evening, the Auditioneer's Hall. A nice balance of events." I got a brief notification that I had advanced a checkpoint for [ The Famous ], but I shuffled it away with a thought. We mounted the stairs, and he held the door open for . "I think I would like that very much," he said, thoughtfully. So that's half my weekend planned. And on Sevenday I'm going to be walking Nathan around the old ho village. When am I going to make ti for monster-slaying and catastrophe-averting? Between music class and field practice, I ran across another familiar face. "Hey, Thumper!" I said, jogging forward. And then I got a good look at her expression, and a hundred thoughts rushed through together. "What's the matter? Di- was I wrong? Oh gods I'm sorry!" I was already knee-deep in a worry-slurry over giving bad advice and freaking out that my predictive powers might be failing when she replied. "Nah. I'm team captain all right," she said with a sigh. "But do you know what that ans? It's responsibility, Natalie. Most of the ti it just ans doing extra stuff. My free periods are over here now, and not even for practice or sparring! Just double-checking the managers and facilities, organizing rosters for ets, and all that garbage. I was hoping that I'd get a cool new sword, or a fencing helt with a gold crown or sothing. Instead, I've got a key-ring." She patted her hip, where a jangling pile of brass teeth dangled from a carabiner. "But, you do get all the cool perks at competitions and ets, right?" I prompted. "Yes, but I'm not at a competition right now, I'm at the locker room right now, waiting for the guy from the maintenance departnt to co over here and fix the water heater. And I'm probably going to miss half a day's practice because of this!" I spotted an alert that I had a quest opportunity available. Brass Tacks, reward xp and love interest advancent. Ah. "That's a terrible reason for a team captain to miss practice," I said. "What's wrong with the water heater?" "The sigils are still fine, but the tank sprung a leak," she said, rolling her eyes heavenward, demanding an explanation from the gods. "So now I've gotta wait for this knucklehead to hamr the rivets back in and I can get started with practice." "Show ," I said. She gave a strange look but she shrugged, and unlocked a door to the maintenance shed. I noticed that a lot of the keys she had were ensigiled, set to interface with magical locks and alarms. She had access to so of the very serious parts of the campus, where important materials were kept. Wait. [ The Access ]. That's her benefit to my quest, she's got a key-ring that can get anywhere, even places that might be protected against my sorcery. And also, her na recognition as team captain might open so doors that even that key-ring does not unlock. I'm starting to figure out this Rival love-interest thing. Bit by bit, it's making sense. The room back here was steamy and damp and kind of gross with mildew. "ew," I muttered. I leaned on my affinity to the water and had it behave in ways it does not normally, lifting out of puddles and sweeping around at high speed to scrub the walls and floor clean of mold, sli, dust and spiderwebs, and then shoot out to the grass outside to deposit all that. Under my control the water was a living thing that moved at high speeds like a pressure-washer and then dumped itself out, leaving the space not only clean but already dried. "Whoa," Thumper said, staring around her. "That's not half-" "Ah, I see," I said, tapping at the canister. "Yeah, this is just tal fatigue, expansion and cold weather. One mont." I curved brass, and I fixed the worn-out surfaces, bent the crumpled seams back into place, screwed the rivets into place, buckled the lid back down and prid the well-pump. "There. That should hold hold enough water for everyone, good as new. Much faster and quieter than hamring." She examined my handiwork while I accepted five experience points. "Damn princess," she said with a laugh. "Guess I'm not missing any practice at all! Thanks!" "No problem," I said, reaching up to pat her shoulder. "I'll let you make it up to soti. But for now I gotta get to camogie practice." I used a couple of portals to get there faster, and was only a little later than most of the other players, not even the last girl on the field. I was charging along, when I saw a warning sign float into my vision and my vision alone. [ Strength 10 ][ Damage 1:1 ] Well, I've seen this before. It's gonna be a tough day at practice. This ti I made sure my essence was channeling steel so I'd have my full Strength, and then I swaggered onto the pitch. Let's see what they've got for today. The coach waved over. "All right now Harigold, if we're gonna use your reputation to best effect, I need you in full forward, probably corner-forward to keep their goalie out of the center. They're probably not going to give you scoring opportunities, so I want to prioritize your short-passing ga, and today's a good day to start that process." Well that doesn't sound like a difficult and dangerous physical challenge. I suppose there's plenty of chances for soone to try fouling or sucker-punching ... there were a dozen hurlers out on that end of the pitch already, but Egnul was not one of them, nor any of the girls I rember being real close with her. I kept my eyes all around just in case. According to the status nu, I was going to be faced with a very real attack that was going to do damage and was too much for to defeat right now. Still, I had promised Licard that I would not indifferently let myself get injured. This was an important part of my physical training, after all, and if I only take a couple points of damage I'll be okay. I'll lose half of that just sleeping it off. Passing the sliotar is a bit different from most gas. You can only make a toss to yourself, from hand-to-hand or from hand-to-hurley. So to hold a sliotar in hand and then lob it to soone else is a penalty. To pass the sliotar to another you have to strike it with either hand or hurley. For a long pass you'd use the hurley, swatting it dozens of ters, but short pass is hand-strike. Closed fist or open palm, you can use any part of the hand to strike the sliotar to soone else. My strikes were coming in hard, I had to temper myself a little bit for the sake of the hurlers catching. My hand hits like a hamr, the sliotar was whipping straight-line vectors at the other players who had to catch carefully or duck fast. I was one of the leaner and lankier mbers of the team but sorcery turned into a dynamo. I could take a pass well enough, and soone ntioned getting to hand-catch a hurley-pass, to the chuckles of all the other forwards training at hand-passing. I was keeping my eyes on my six, never letting anyone co up from behind . It's difficult to train effectively when you're also guarding against an ambush. I did my best, making short stops and sharp starts, cleats digging into the turf as I moved to angle and strike over and over. The ash hurley in my hand was just counterweight today, I was not practicing anything that used that tool at all. "Take five!" the coach yelled, and we all relaxed, dropping the sliotar, and just walked about a bit to cool ourselves off. I curved water to grab a bottle off the offside table and bring it to . The water brought the bottle with it, I don't need to move the glass as well. I grabbed it out of the air and took a long swig, and let out a satisfied "Ah!" of relief. After a minute or so of small sips and standing still, I nearly had my breath back now, stamina training was paying off. Cardio really is its own reward. The hurler next to paused, looking around. "Who's whistling?" she said, and then a six-foot-long stone javelin hit in the back.