Shahin Esca Yusuf-ya

 

“Are you eager to welcome your kin?” Shahin said to the working smith. “I am certain that Zamindar Azrin will bring as many as she is able.”

Isra Haleh cast her a glance and wordlessly stretched her palm.

Shahin floated a few handfuls of rivets and pushed Flow through, heating them to a malleable red. A rather menial task for a wermage, fit for the very young apprentices so they could hone their control and resilience, but it got her close to the constantly busy and recently grumpy artisan. It also allowed her to observe the machines she was making in the process.

Isra grabbed the rivets with her magic and they quickly fastened another metal plate to the ever-growing steel monstrosity. The metal hissed as the wermage of Enoch crushed the rivets into their final shapes. If Shahin saw this for the first time she would have been quite impressed at the offhanded display of skill, but Shahin knew Isra Haleh often began her days in the smithy sick to her stomach and she did it willingly. Most artisans were never this desperate and none of them had access to these daimonic tools; Isra’s rapid growth was more than expected.

That was the third reason why Shahin had decided to offer her power. Try as she might, the artisan in front of her was using so much of her Spark that Shahin’s assistance was almost imperceptible and unlikely to be seen as subservience. Moreover, Isra Haleh was quite eager to hurry her work along and did not mind a few odd questions here and there, as long as Shahin would quicken her work even further.

“You know that I came to this Manor to create and not to drink myself into sickness with nightly feasts. As long as I have the final say inside my smithy, I will be fine.”

“You will not be teaching them as the master smi… as the master machinist?”

“Yeva said that she will be responsible for their education. At least for now.”

Shahin nodded. “She is shielding you.”

Isra used the next set of rivets to attach a pipe. “What do you mean? Shielding from what?”

“The power of the final word cuts both ways.” Seeing the frown on the artisan’s face, Shahin continued. “The two Matriarchs are eager to fill this estate with their relatives. There will be quite a few candidates to choose from. To select the best, just as Aikerim Adal intended. Thus there will be those who are not chosen. Some might rejoice, as they did not have it in their hearts to apprentice themselves once again despite the Matriarch’s orders. Some might accept it with grace. Many will grow jealous. Not because they wanted to be chosen, but because others were chosen before them.”

“They already are.” Isra harrumphed and picked up the stack of papers to scrutinise. Shahin knew those schematics were called ‘blueprints’, most likely due to the inherent quality of knowledge drawn on them. “They grow jealous if I improve, they grow dismissive if I don’t. Nothing unusual about that.”

“This will affect them directly. Especially as new tools and creations emerge just outside their reach. Every new design that Erf shares is but another design they were denied. I do not even mention the current ones. Yeva treats your grindstone collection as if it is a trifling matter, but both of us know that many smiths, jewelcrafters, and glassmakers will trade one of their children to get their hands on it. Well, not the wermage ones.”

When they comprehended their usefulness, that was. Her cousins initially treated them as a novelty and little more, just a slightly better option to a well-picked sandstone. Until they saw the difference between a lens that was polished into its final shape and a lens that was pressed into a mould. Right after they stopped being impressed by the clarity of the glass made with daimonic alchemy. That was the flavour of his daimonic genius — purity, precision, and attention to detail.

“They will seek someone to blame,” Shahin continued. “Not the Domina, of course. It is her right to choose the best for her Manor, and it is beyond foolish to idly whisper grievances against someone of her status. But a fellow member of Enoch? One who should be caring for nothing else but the prosperity of her House and has the ability to influence said Domina? That is simply too convenient.”

“Why are you trying to ruin my day again?” Isra sighed and started to look for some specific part. Yet another proof that whatever she was making was touched by that flavour. Despite the size and extreme robustness of the mechanism, Shahin saw that individual pieces were carved to the daimonic precision nevertheless. Lines were straight and surfaces were without a single distortion. “Or is this one of your lessons once again?”

“Not a lesson, no. A warning, perhaps. You have power over many now, be careful with it. Be ready for those who will use their relationship with you to get in and get ahead. Or, better yet, make sure that they spend their efforts competing with others rather than trying to influence you. Why do you think Aikerim Adal invited both Matriarchs at the same time?”

“Perhaps you should say those things to Yeva. Isn’t that what she is shielding me against by your own words? Erf and I had an agreement exactly for this reason. I do not wish to plot. Especially against my own House!”

“I do not believe she needs it. Unlike you, Yeva is a slave of Aikerim Adal. In the eyes of others, she is a tool of her will. Blaming her is akin to blaming the Domina herself in that regard and Yeva knows this — her slave medallion is quite prominent anytime she deals with other wermages. What troubles me is that she is alone.”

Isra goggled at her. “You think she will seek another?”

Shahin groaned and slapped the smith upside her head with her tail. “Murks do not have the Heat, you dolt! Be careful what you say aloud — do you wish to anger your teacher if she overhears? When do you think Yeva writes those ‘prints of blue’ that you possess?”

Isra clutched the mentioned scroll and then rubbed her head. “I do not shadow her every step, how am I supposed to know? I tell her of my progress often so she knows when I am done a day or two in advance.”

“What I mean is she has other tasks to do. There is no Erf to offer knowledge, neither to us nor to the Domina and her family. She has to do it herself, just as she has to perform all that alchemy for your creations and ours. His prime wife, Irje, is gone as well — so Yeva has to watch over the estate and personally deal with slaves and servants. And then there is no Anaise Hilal to deal with wermages seeking an audience. Granted, she has that wer slave that Erf trusts to help with the estate oversight, and there are few to no guests now that the daimon is in the north, but I do not think she sleeps that often or that long.” Shahin sighed. “And now, the two Matriarchs are pushing for more apprentices.”

Shahin heated up the next set of rivets and floated them to Isra. “Unless you are willing to see your time with Yeva disappear — you might need to act like the master machinist that you are and take on some teaching yourself. Strictly as an artisan and nothing more, obviously — hence my previous advice. I did not intend to imply that you had to plot against your House. If you end up with apprentices — make them compete. Let them see others as their challenge, not you. I am certain that Yeva would appreciate your help. And so will Erf.”

“Make them compete. Easy for you to say.”

“Just as it is easy for me to offer my help.” Shahin proffered more glowing steel to the artisan. “Have you forgotten that Yeva requested me to help you with my skills? Hone your knowledge by teaching others and leave intrigue to me and Yeva. If Kiymetl and Enoch end up too unified for you to deal with — there are artisans from Esca in this estate. I am certain that this was Aikerim Adal’s exact intent or she would have excluded me from the meeting. If it was not — Erf and I can make another deal. All you have to do is speak with Yeva on this matter. We both know that you need more hands, especially for tasks that do not divulge secrets. Do you think that Yeva wanted you to make every single rivet yourself?”

And that was the final reason why Shahin was here today. She could not afford to have her kin get left behind the other two Houses.

Isra squirmed. “She said that this project could wait until I have the machine to make bolts and nuts. I… uh… I kinda hurried it up a little bit.”

“Truly? Is this some siege equipment to assist Erf? What is the reason for the steel to be this thick? Knowing the quality of your steel, armoursmiths would be dumbstruck.”

“Oh, this is not a weapon. It will hold air… I think?”

“You think?”

“I don’t know the details yet! All I know is that it will purify the air by turning it into… liquid? Yeva said that she will tell you once it is done.”

“Oh,” Shahin eloquently responded, not even bothering to challenge Isra’s choice of words. Or how they were combined together to make no sense at all. And made perfect sense nevertheless. Purity. Once again that daimonic flavour had made itself known.

She glanced at the hollow pillar of steel and multiple pipes attached to it at odd places. That steel could hold the Djinn of Air without a doubt…

Shahin violently shook her head. No, this was not the time for tales from her childhood and stories about ancient magic. This was the daimonic craft of a murk. It would hold air and nothing else. The thickness of the walls? Her knowledge of glass-blowing gave her one word — pressure. An enormous amount of pressure if she were to judge the strength of this steel. The heroes of the past were rumoured to squeeze water from the sands of the desert; Isra Haleh was about to do something similar but with air. Truly those were the prints of Arksite blue.

“How- never mind that. Are you close to completion?”

“I am not going to tell you its secrets nor even let you see it in action.”

“No, I suppose you would not. But now I am also eager to see its results.” Shahin cracked her knuckles. “I think I do not mind getting sick a handful of days in a row myself. Especially if Yeva would let me hold that liquid air.”

 

XXX

“No. You will not be touching it.”

Shahin kept her face calm in front of the flat refusal. She knew that Yeva was not very approachable today as soon as she laid her eyes on her, but Isra was just too quick for her to stop. The artisan was too focused on ‘her’ idea to notice where Yeva was. And what her hands were holding.

They were in the healer’s room and Yeva was clutching someone’s mangled hand. A thief by the look of it, and they must have tried to steal something very important to warrant such a gruesome amputation.

“I apologise if I overstepped my bounds,” Shahin carefully picked her words, glaring at a nearby girl in the corner with a stump for her arm. Tendays of gradual improvement, all gone in an instant because some sneak could not hold her hands to herself. “It was not my intention to-”

“Please stop scaring my servant with your glare, Shahin Esca.” Yeva sighed, rubbing her temples. “She is not in a good place as is. Viter, please summon every machine worker and apprentice to the inner courtyard. No — to Isra’s workshop, and ask the cook to bring a piglet or two from the cellar. I need to address everyone.”

Viter gave her a quick bow and left the quarters.

“You wish to make the punishment public?”

Yeva blinked. “Punishment!? The poor soul already suffered through the loss of her hand. What I wish for is not to have it happen again. Saya, how are you feeling?”

“It doesn’t hurt no more, mistress.” The murk sniffed in the corner.

“Good, come with me. We will heal your hand back later, but your stump is a teachable moment for everyone right now. If I am forced to do it — I have to make sure it sticks.” Yeva nodded to Shahin and Isra Haleh. “Please, come along.”

Something was not what it seemed in this situation, and Shahin did not wish to assume. “She was not caught stealing?”

Yeva chose to look at Isra instead. “Worse — her hand was caught in the rollers because she did not follow the safety rules.”

“I-”

“You were trying to grab some piece of garbage before it went through the rollers, I know. Why do you think I was so adamant that you are allowed to only spread wool at the entrance of the machine and never reach further?”

“There was a mouse-”

“You have the lever to stop the carding machine entirely for that exact reason. Hands can be replaced but not heads — what would you do if it caught on your hair rather than your hand? You would be very lucky if it only scalped you.” Yeva looked at the crying slave awkwardly rubbing tears around her face with one hand and sighed. “I would rather send Wrena Khayrat to restart the machine on occasion rather than spend my time cleaning even more wounds.”

“You should cease your snivelling and thank your mistress instead,” Shahin added. “She willing to keep you despite all that — others would have-”

“Shahin Esca, enough.” There was sudden steel in Yeva’s voice that was gone just as quickly. “Let her cry to her heart’s content. It will calm her down, especially after the adrenaline rush she went through.”

Shahin opened the door for them and glanced back at her. “An adrenaline rush?”

“A second wind, of sorts. Often happens after a serious injury or in the middle of a stressful situation.”

“Ah yes, the Battle Flow.”

They spent the rest of their trip with some small talk. Content that Yeva’s foul mood was not caused by theft, Shahin dared to ask her about the refusal once again. And received a surprising answer: liquid air was cold. Very very cold.

As a lamura, the cold was her enemy, yet she still felt the worm of curiosity crawling inside her heart. Shahin shivered as Viter corralled the rest of the slaves into the now-open gates of Isra’s smithy. The artisan looked quite disgruntled by the multitude of eyes gazing into her coveted room but she acquiesced to Yeva’s demands anyway.

“When you started working around the machines, I made a list of rules that you need to follow no matter what.” Yeva’s voice thundered through the crowd. “I told you to respect the machine. It appears that I have forgotten to teach you to fear the machine! Aziz, did you bring piglets as I’ve asked?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Good. Place one on the stump.” Yeva turned around and glanced at her and Isra. “Shahin Esca, would you be so kind as to show your might to the onlookers?”

“You wish for me to roast the piglet with my magic?”

“I want you to strike at it as if it was your mortal enemy. Hit it with your wermage strength and hold nothing back.”

Shahin wordlessly whipped her tail around and smashed it down on the tree stump, sending giblets of meat and droplets of blood everywhere. “Do you wish for me to strike even harder?”

“No,” Yeva wiped the blood from her face, “that was quite impressive already.”

She turned back to the crowd, frozen in fear. “Do any of you wish to be that ‘enemy of a wermage’? Hmm? Speak up!”

“No, medicine woman! We would never dare to break your rules ever again!” Someone managed to stutter in the crowd.

Yeva palmed her face. “This is exactly what I was worried about.”

She picked up another piglet and placed it on some steel contraption within the smithy.

“Yeva…” Isra Haleh whined, suddenly worried about something.

“Would you rather have a bit of a mess now or end up with someone’s brains scattered around your smithy later? This is a lesson for you as well. Your wermage body is strong but it is not unbreakable. Soon, you will be making machines that could seriously hurt you as well.”

“What you have to understand about machines,” Yeva spoke back to the rest of the crowd, “is that they perform their task no matter what. It is not an angry animal that you can pacify. Nor is it a powerful wermage that you can beg for forgiveness.”

She pushed a lever and an enormous block of metal slammed into the flesh, ripping it apart. Shahin felt the smile gracing her face — her strike was better.

“The machine does not care if it has something to work with or not. It does not care if it is hard steel or soft flesh. It will do the task it was made for. Your begs and pleas will do nothing. The rules that I gave you were once written by someone’s blood. Every single one of them. Someone, somewhere got killed, hurt, or seriously injured just so you can avoid their fate! This is why they are called the safety rules — they are there to keep you safe. Not from me, or the mighty lamura beside me — from the machines themselves.” Yeva gestured at the wounded slave. “Forget them and it might be the machine that will remind you about it, not me or Viter.”

 

 

Yeva

 

There was a bitter taste in her mouth as the crowd dispersed. This was her failure. Saya was her failure. Deep inside her heart, Yeva knew that mere words and rules on paper weren’t enough, yet she still hoped that she had a little bit more time on her hands. She hoped that servants were wise enough not to ignore the rules that were only there to ensure their safety.

The mangled appendage told her that she was wrong.

“It only gives me bruises, you know,” Isra quietly grumbled while wiping the splatters from her machines.

“This one gives you bruises,” Yeva replied. “You haven’t seen a real stamping press yet. Is this the behaviour that you are going to teach your apprentices? Some of them might not be wermages to walk away from similar accidents with mere bruises. Learn it right while you can. If you continue to skirt my instructions on safety just because you are tough enough to survive current mishaps, do not be surprised if Erf and I get too wary to teach you something more powerful. The press might bruise you, but what about a lightning bolt through your body? The only reason I am allowing you to keep riveting the fractionating column is because I know enough about their magically induced toughness. If I had even the slightest concern about their strength I would have told you to rip them off and wait for proper bolts. Lest the exploding lid would hurl you into the middle of the South Sea. With bruises, no doubt.”

“You need more overseers, Yeva. Esca knows the prudence of delicate work.” Shahin was quick to insert herself. “Just say the word and I will provide you with people we both could trust.”

Yeva suppressed her grimace. Apart from the bitter taste, Shahin’s actions reminded her of her past. For a brief moment, she saw herself in that girl. How she was pleading to her previous Domina after losing her eyesight. The difference was that her injury wasn’t her fault.

But Saya was here, and Shahin wasn’t her ‘Domina’. Yeva was. And she would do right by the girl. But that would come later.

“Shahin Esca,” Yeva paused for a moment and then nodded. “If you wish — choose two of your kin. Make sure they are aware that they will spend their time learning not just among the artisans of the other two Houses but the servants of this estate. Wer and murk. They need to learn before they can enforce the rules. First — how to read and write drawings, and then — how those drawings are turned into solid parts. Make sure they also know that they will be joining as apprentices and are expected to act accordingly.

“Choose them carefully or choose one or none at all. They don’t have to be wermages or of high standing. It might be easier if they aren’t; their main task for a long while will be to learn how machines operate and nothing more. Do not send those who are seeking immediate gains — leave those with Amir Esca and have them keep learning lenscrafting and optics. Once we have liquid air, there will be torches hot enough to melt glass and metal alike.”

“You think that two is enough?”

“For now — yes. I have no time to add more to my ever-growing roster of students and this way I can release one on a moment’s notice. Or both. Make sure your candidates are aware that their position is in no way guaranteed. They are merely considered because of you and nothing else.”

The lamura smiled regardless of the strict requirements. “I will make sure they are thoroughly vetted.”

“I know you will.” Yeva nodded without surprise. After that meeting of the two Matriarchs, she expected that the Esca would start moving in turn. It was simply easier to meet them halfway. Quicker too — she had even less time to worry about the inevitable games of intrigue if she were to play coy at this moment. They wanted an in — they would work for it.

“Saya.” Her sudden shift in attention made the hapless girl jump in her spot.

“Y-yes, mistress?”

“You can read, right?”

“Of course! I memorised the entire codex of letters!”

“What about the codex of rules?”

“I am sor-”

“I am not asking for your apologies. I am asking whether you have read it or not.”

“I have…”

“Good. While your hand grows, you will make sure that others working on the carding machine do not repeat your mistake. And talk to other workers too. Ask them if they have any concerns with my rules that they are afraid to say to my face. If I have another accident because someone couldn’t read a single word…”

Saya was staring at her bandaged stump, dumbstruck. “My hand grows?”

“You are speaking to the medicine woman. If anyone could have your hand regrown, it would be her.” Shahin shook her head. “Although I am concerned by your actions, Yeva. Be careful that others do not hurt themselves in a similar manner. Just to become a supervisor.”

She shook her head. “If anyone does it intentionally — they will be gone from this estate in an instant. She can tell that to others as well. And she won’t be an overseer. A safety inspector, perhaps, since now she has the most experience in this particular field among the rest. Just as I’ve said in front of everyone, I am not going to spend time and people to enforce rules through fear. I would rather have the unwilling do the simple work rather than spend half of my workers on oversight duty.”

“If it is the lack of supervisors-”

“I lack many things, Shahin Esca, including the warmth of my husband. Overseers are not one of them.”

 

XXX

“Let me see them.” Sophia stretched her palm to me.

I pulled out one of the lashes and passed it over. Carefully picking it up, Sophia carefully inspected every scale of its body, stretched it and even whipped it a couple of times.

“It is inert, is that so?”

I blinked. “So you were listening.”

“What? Did you expect me, the General, to be there in person? I said I wished to watch the fight, not have others baulk at me. Can you even comprehend the possible consequences if I was there, challenger?”

“My knowledge of arm customs is quite lacking, I would say. Few codices discuss those topics. What consequences are you speaking about?”

“Codices do not discuss the customs and traditions because they differ from arm to arm. Nor are you likely to find a codex in Samat discussing Kiannika in detail. Have you checked the Kosenya’s libraries of Uureg? I thought so.” Sophia got up and whipped a nearby pillar, sending wood splinters in all directions. “My presence there would give additional gravitas to your fight. You wouldn’t become just a challenger — it would be expected that I would recognise your talent and promote you accordingly. For that kind of prowess that you showed, there is but one path for a murk to take.”

She looked back at me and smirked. “Do you wish to become a Procurer for the arm? To become one of its eyes up close and kattars in the dark? To use your lack of Spark so you could sneak into the tents of our enemy Generals and give your life for our victory? Just ask and I will spread the word.”

I grimaced, “Please, spare me.”

“So you have a head on your shoulders. Wake up your whip.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She shook my lash in her hand. “Wake it up.”

“I can’t. It only comes to life in my own hands. No one else’s.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Then wake the other one. Show me how it looks when it is not ‘inert’, challenger.”

I unfurled the other lash. “Why do you call me that? I did not challenge Lita’af Hikmat — she did.”

Sophia peered into the flexing lash with the eyes of a hawk. “I call you that because you are one now. Did you see that group that came to see your fight? Most of them are challengers themselves. It is a title within the arm. An unofficial one, but a well-recognised title nevertheless. Given to the best warriors among their rank. The best wermages, wer… murks. You have been careful to maintain your status as a murk and yet you defeated a wermage in a mock battle. You wounded a Cancer in a personal battle. In the eyes of Kiannika, you are more than fit to be a murk challenger.”

“And what are the consequences of that title?” I asked warily.

“Eyes will be upon you when you fight in battle,” she murmured as she kept staring at my body. “If you run, the whole finger might run with you, so don’t or I will chop your head off. They will expect you to fight the toughest battles and, during the lull of battle, you will be expected to challenge enemy fighters to break the morale of their units. And answer their challenges to maintain the morale of yours. Make sure you do, challenger, or I will chop your head off for that as well. I have said to you before — I am the General here and I will act according to my rank. And I will judge you according to yours, challenger. Don’t like it? You know who to blame…”

Sophia trailed off for a second then lifted her eyes to meet mine, the amber of her eyes was so bright as if they were glowing. “So this is just a snake!? Just another creature of yours, similar to that flying bug!?”

I scratched my chin. “You could say so.”

From a certain point of view, she was correct. The LASH system did latch onto my wrist like an angry snake, albeit those ‘fangs’ were the anchor points for my skinsuit. The actual connection between it and Harald was happening inside its ‘mouth’. There was little else of the creature it looked so similar to. They were more similar to viruses than snakes.

“How…” She groaned and got up. “How stupid! How utterly and mindbogglingly stupid! To think that her confusion with the mere trinket got her that far? I swear I will skin my brother alive one day!”

“Your brother?”

“He gave you a new trinket, did he not? You were supposed to have it broken!”

I frowned. “Were you expecting me to use up its power? For what reason? To demand-”

She scoffed. “Not everything is about you, Erf. Do you think I am that stupid to rely on a recompense for a minor artefact? You have three Houses that are willing to give up one of their trinkets just so they can claim a favour from a daimon. By the Celestial Couple, you have my brother throwing artefacts at you for absolutely insane and childish reasons! How is that ‘date’ with Mushaf Davlat shaping up, by the way?”

“Well, we are yet to finish a single game of chatrang.”

“You are wasting your time, if you haven’t noticed yourself. Defeating you would be child’s play for him but you will come up with something else. I know my brother — he is stalling intentionally and can dance around the issue for decades. Can you?”

I shrugged. “If he keeps throwing artefacts at me, how can I refuse?”

“So he is bribing you off with childish toys.”

“I do mention Mushaf Davlat when we play. Even if he keeps dancing around. And there is so much to learn from those ‘toys’. How do they store energy? How do they recover it?” I pulled out the two ‘blanks’: the bronze one I used up and the resin copy. “How do they gain power in the first place?”

“Let me see that.” Sophia let go of my activated lash she was holding all this time and yanked the copy with her magic. “Who gave you this one!?”

“No one did. I made it myself. As you can see it is quite inert.”

“Inert… Did you try to feed it your blood as well?”

I felt my eyebrows rise. “Is that how artefacts are powered?”

“Of course not! They are containers of magic, not barbaric rituals. This is a surprisingly well-made copy. How did you manage to replicate the inner curves?”

I shrugged. “It is a lot easier if I have a reference. I just used the original one to create a special mould then cast the copy.”

“And you have done it all by yourself? Didn’t ask any artisans to help?”

“I remember the rules of our agreement. No one knows the details and only my wives know that I work with you at all.”

She hummed while twisting the piece in her hands. And then a wicked grin spread over her face. “And you can make a handful more?”

“Yes,” I answered cautiously. “But they are inert.”

Sophia leaned closer. “And I am the Censor of Emanai. I can bless them in the name of the Goddess. It appears that you don’t need to pander to my brother’s stalling anymore.”

A stray thought barged into my mind. What if?

“I can make a hundred by tomor-”

A goblet full of wine smashed into my face. Perhaps not.

“A hundred!?” Sophia thundered above me, “Do you have any idea what you are asking? Whom you are asking it from? A Manor would scrape and beg just to have a fifth of that! Earn some humility, daimon! Or I will teach it to you myself!”

I rubbed my chin. The damn thing was solid gold and appropriately heavy. “What if I told you that it could be used to prank your brother? Mushaf Davlat aside.”

She lowered the golden jar. “Speak.”

“What if I created a new artefact by combining those trinkets together? It would rely on my esoteric knowledge so it is likely that nothing similar might currently exist. I am certain that your brother will be very interested. How much can you ask of him, if you end up with the possession of another one just like that somehow?”

“And you think that Albin can’t make one himself after seeing yours?”

I smiled. “Does he have eighty-eight of such toys simply lying around? All of them with different yet uniquely specific sounds?”