The Power of Ten, Book Three : The Human Race

I turned away, and the hair on my scalp went up. My head snapped back around, and I stared directly at the sky palomino statue.

It hadn’t moved at all, but I could definitely tell it was looking at me.

It was a Scrying Focus...

Magical items made by a Caster are ideal targets for their Scrying. The Karmic Cost that binds the magic to the item means a little bit of your soul is actually in every magical item you make. Couple that with potentially crafting the item, and then having to Spellcraft the magic into the item personally, and you have an intimacy and familiarity with the item that is nigh impossible to replicate with anything else.

If you take steps to make the item easy to Scry by playing on this connection, then Scrying on something you’ve made is practically effortless.

She was Scrying through it right now, and looking at me, and my black eyes.

At Traveler, who she thought was her half-sister, not knowing Elrii was dead.

She could certainly see that I wasn’t pregnant anymore, however.

A lot of thoughts ran through my head as I looked back into the eyes on the other side of the horse.

The scrapbook had showed that Elrii definitely had an obsession with her family. If there had been any correspondence or contact with them, I was very certain she would have kept it... but I hadn’t seen any letters or things like that.

I was under the impression that they were not allowed to contact her. Given how strong they were, and grown up enough, that would have been impossible to enforce for a spellcaster... without magic.

Morningfire had already proved herself heartless enough to freeze out a no-magic daughter and scrub her existence away. Using a Geas or something similar on her children to enforce a lack of contact was entirely possible, too.

That being said, that wouldn’t stop someone from practicing their Scrying on a useful target, and Elrii, with no magic, might not even have known that her little horse was a Scrying Focus.

I certainly did, however, and the magic of the Scryer was the magic of the maker of the horse...

I eyed that horse, and the innocent love and goodwill behind it, and chose to believe that at least one member of the Morningsun family wasn’t a complete bitch.

I flicked my hand, and seven Shards slowly spun up around it.

They were burning with blazing red flames, searing golden fire, and cool vivic whiteness around the teardrops of jet and silver.

There was no better way to display that yes indeed, I did have magic now. I could only imagine the astonishment on the other end at the number of Shards I was showing.

I let them fade away, and flicked up a Holo, taking a page from Master Fred’s book.

I AM STILL A ONE.

MY BABY BOY WAS STOLEN BY THE CHURCH OF SHOUL, AND I NEARLY DIED. IT IS HOW MY MAGIC WAS AWAKENED.

I WILL BE FINE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONCERN OVER THE YEARS. DO NOT TELL THE OTHERS, THEY HAVE NO RIGHT TO KNOW ANYTHING.

There was a surge from the other end of the Scrying, and then the watcher was gone...

Okay, another problem. I was now an Internet celebrity. Some chuckleheads were going to start Scrying me for whatever reason... I was kind of surprised that they hadn’t already. It simply hadn’t occurred to me that it would be a problem, as Aelryinth was used to walking around with a fully powered-up Astral Ward active all the time just to stop that sort of idiocy.

I rubbed my temples and sighed. Okay, I had wanted to further the protective powers of my Ring, but obviously I was going to need some Divinatory protection ASAP.

“Master Fred!” I called out, heading downstairs. “I need to request the loan of something from the Church of Harse or your other contacts, until I can arrange for something better myself...”

------

Oddly enough, arranging for the short-term loan of an Amulet designed to foil Scrying and Divinatory magic directed at me wasn’t hard. It was only a Valence II effect, so any Three or higher could duplicate the effect, and if I was only going to borrow it, the owner could just spend a II every day until I returned it.

Of course, it cost six goldweight to make the thing, so it was worth nearly a million dollars...

That also meant I needed to earn some Karma every day that I could feed to Einz... and Clavus, as it were.

That also meant I needed to make enough Naming Karma for both my Ring and Weapon every day to keep advancing them... or I was going to need gold.

That... would not be difficult at all. There was another Shroudzone right up the way. As long as I restricted the number of undead that I killed to a handful every day, that would satisfy both needs.

If Master Fred was with me, I could advance the Name of his Sword and Gun, too...

------

Master Fred slowly drummed his fingers on the table, considering what I was proposing. The fact I wasn’t taking him for granted just because he couldn’t speak normally got me respect in turn... as did the fact that my power just seemed to be increasing, even though I was advancing sideways, not up.

Still, I was a frail glass cannon with a low amount of ammo. I had a long way to go to get where I could hang seriously, and not shoot and run away.

BALTIMORE CAN EASILY KEEP ME BUSY ALL DAY DOING MINOR BUSYWORK THINGS. DC COULD, TOO, BUT IS COMPLETELY SILENCED BY THE SHROUDZONE. I HAVE NO IMPETUS FROM MY HEAVEN PACT TO LEAVE, WHICH LEADS ME TO BELIEVE THAT I AM RIGHT WHERE I SHOULD BE, he nodded at me, and I inclined my head in acknowledgement. ARRANGING TIME ON THE DC WALL SHOULD NOT BE THAT HARD FOR BRIGGS, WHO WILL LIKELY APPRECIATE SOME EXTRA KARMA AS WELL.

“He’ll likely want to bring some people along under the guise of ‘target practice’,” I noted, although I wasn’t opposed to the idea.

HOW LONG DO YOU WANT THIS TO CONTINUE?, he asked reasonably.

“Six days, enough time to get a Div Ward up on my Ring. I think I’m lucky nobody tried to Scry me for the past two days, or I would’ve needed you to pop the Sensor.” Probably perverts trying to get a view of me asleep or in the shower, no doubt...

I HAVE NO ISSUES WITH THAT. I ASSUME IF WE RECEIVE WORD ON THE SINBOUND, YOU WILL WANT TO DEPART IMMEDIATELY?

“Of course,” I agreed.

HOW DO YOU WISH TO SPEND YOUR FREE TIME?

“In a library.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. WITH NO CITYBOUND, BALTIMORE AND ITS SUBURBS HAVE A LOT OF BUSYWORK FOR ME. SOME WILL INVOLVE COMBAT, BUT LARGELY THEY ARE REPAIR AND MAINTENANCE THINGS... OR VISITATIONS TO CERTAIN INDIVIDUALS WHO ARE DOING THINGS WRONGLY. His knuckles cracked loudly. A CRUEL BUT NECESSARY TASK.

I was aware of the duties of the Citybound. They weren’t cops... they were there to see to the health of the city. The cities noticed who took care of them, and who did not, and they noticed sloppy jobs and poor efforts the same way you’d notice someone doing a shitty job setting your broken bone or sewing up your cuts.

However, without a mortal interface, they were like the Land. While the Land was large enough to ignore small things until they became larger and demanded attention, place spirits, genius loci, tended to be much more responsive to such things.

Active Citybound made for an incredibly well-run city, because the Citybound were aware of where problems in execution and operations were. However, Cities were Elemental Spirits, and they tended to treat threats to themselves the same way people treated mosquitos sucking at them. While Citybound were given some leeway, the cities were generally ruthless to those who were ruthless to them.

They were truly merciless to those who misspent the funds that kept the city humming in tiptop shape, and outsiders taking advantage of its natives truly roused its ire.

Then again, it might just want Master Fred to repair a drain that was about to collapse and flood out a bunch of low-rent buildings....

I wouldn’t be of much use to him while he was doing busywork, of course, and he could just ask the city to look after me and make sure I was safe while he did that kind of thing.

Also, it shouldn’t be hard to find a convenient church I could donate holy water at...

-------

Later that morning...

Fred pulled up in front of the Baltimore Department of Public Works, sighing to himself. Fucktards...

There is magic in the world. Why did these idiots think that nobody was watching?

Office on the third floor...

He Rode the Light up through a window, letting Sleipner wait down below. Of course, a motorcycle standing there balanced with no rider might attract attention, but what did that matter?

He materialized in a clean but worn hallway, built a century ago, and clearly a remnant of a time long past that Baltimore wanted to move on from. Magic had come and technology had advanced since this building had been built, and Baltimore wanted to get with the times.

One Collin T. Bridgemere was getting in the way of that, to the tune of almost half a million dollars of misdirected money, overpayments to companies who had kicked back large sums to him.

Today was his last day. Heaven had no problems with this, Hell was happy, and Storm could not have cared less.

His Aura of Menace was spreading out from him, and combined with his appearance, the people he passed in the hallway bleated and got out of his way.

He’d never been here, but he knew where to go. Baltimore knew everything about itself, especially its governmental buildings. He ignored everyone’s reactions as he proceeded to the office of the City Director of Public Works.

His timing wasn’t coincidental. The secretary there to stop him when he opened the door and stepped inside the office froze as soon as he glanced at her. She did not let out a peep as he proceeded to the office door, and opened it up.

A middle-aged Caucasian with thinning blond hair glanced up at him in surprise as he entered, and also froze in shock as Fred’s Aura swept in.

There was a gasp from next to Fred, and he swept his eyes down at the slender fellow of Irish descent sitting in the chair there.

PATRICK MAHONEY OF THE O’DONNELL FAMILY, the flames on his shoulder spelled out, although they weren’t golden, but rather ornamental metal, and in the rather old font of official governmental paperwork. THE CITY OF BALTIMORE IS UNHAPPY WITH YOU AND YOUR FAMILY.