VIII. Flesh
Dane had to assume that he had been considering the issue of Somner’s animation for too long, because he certainly wasn’t as much of an idiot as it seemed at the moment. With Somner’s help, he had been researching constructs and energy for the past few days to no avail. It was clear that Somner’s energy needed to be renewed: they had already affirmed that this needed to be so, but all he had been able to hypothesize so far was that perhaps the energy could be renewed through regular animation rituals of some sort. Unfortunately, that wasn’t at all practical, and modifying the ritual to renew animation energy rather than animate anew might take years.
Honestly, Dane might well be an idiot. He hadn’t even considered this problem when he had animated Somner, which made it all even clearer that he had never managed to think of anyone’s comfort—anyone’s life—but his own.
Dane reached up to rub the bridge of his nose, smoothing his hand open-palmed over the lower half of his face and letting it fall gain to rest on the table.
“If you feel tired….”
“No. No, I’m fine.”
Somner still didn’t look certain at that reassurance, so Dane said, “Why don’t I send a messenger to a few other scholars and see what they think? Master Downing and Stoneford would certainly be willing to help, and fresh eyes might help the matter along some.”
Somner scowled. “I doubt that Stoneford has enough brain to wipe himself after he goes to the toilet, much less help with anyone else’s matters.” He shifted an arm to hug his knee, drawing it tight to his chest. “But if you believe he can help, of course you may do whatever you wish.”
The words sounded like a very polite reprimand and an honest opinion at the same time. Or perhaps not an opinion, per se, but… Dane didn’t really know. It was hard to categorize Somner when he was silent—it was harder still to categorize him when he was talkative. Somner evaded any category whatsoever.
“Do you really dislike him so?” he asked, knowing that his tone showed his bewilderment.
Somner looked conflicted. His expression refused to settle, shifting between worry and fear. “He made you unhappy,” he finally said.
Dane didn’t have the slightest clue what he was talking about. Stoneford had made him unhappy before, but Somner would hardly know about that—it was long before he had been created, back when Valerian had still been alive.
“When?”
Somner tilted his head, frowning. “I’m… not certain. And he made me into a laughingstock in front of the committee when you got your mage license. If he wanted to embarrass you—which he shouldn’t do regardless—he could have done it without embarrassing me as well. He… annoys me.”
“Do you really dislike him, though?” Dane asked. The thought distressed him. Even if Somner wasn’t truly Valerian, it was disturbing to think of any form of Valerian that disliked Stoneford. Stoneford had practically raised Valerian, after all.
“I… I wouldn’t know. I don’t think so.” Somner shook his head. “Send him a message, if you wish. Send them all messages. I’ll clean the sitting room and work room, just in case any of them wish to visit.”
He left, and Dane sighed. Somner became more complicated by the day, but Dane found it impossible to regret animating him. He crossed the room to the small bell located near the door to the sitting room and rang it. Judging from the cursing that resulted from this action, the small demon that lived inside the bell station hadn’t been expecting to actually have to work, and Dane was greeted with yet more cursing when the door of the small house beneath the bell opened.
“Wot?” the demon asked irritably, tiny orange-red eyes blinking at him. “I was just getting down to a nap, I was.”
“I sincerely apologizing for making you do your job,” Dane snapped. He reached for a spare piece of paper on the work room table and for a quill. “You’ll be going to Master Stef Downing, the Baron Stoneford, and if I am not pleased by what they have answered me with after you return, Master Healer Theodore Thrice and Lady Cartha.”
“Lovely,” the demon grumbled. It stood and began to brush off its miniscule, tattooed body, flapping its wings in preparation for travel. “Well, what’ve you got, then?”
“Mind your bearing.” Dane sealed the letters carefully, pressing the ring etched with his mage symbol carefully into the blue wax. “Take these and wait for a reply from each, bringing it back to me before moving to the next.”
Still grumbling, the demon took the letters and disappeared. Dane sat in his desk chair and waited, facing the bell station. A thump resounded from the other room, followed by a soft curse—no doubt, Somner dropping something. There was silence for a few more moments, and then Somner came back into the work room.
“Dane, I dropped the ‘Encyclopedia of Magickal Herbes’ on my foot,” he said crossly.
Dane laughed at his tone. Somner was finally, finally, acting like he was not living in fear of Dane growing tired of him. “Don’t be so childish, Somner,” he said lightly. “It couldn’t have hurt that much, surely.”
A look came into Somner’s eyes that was purely Valerian, petulant and mischievous, and Dane felt a pang of nostalgia. “Watch me say that the next time you drop the box of quartz on your foot,” he vowed. “We’ll see what you say then.”
Dane had to laugh again. “Somner, sometimes you really are—”
The demon appeared in the bell station and flew quickly over to Dane’s work table, clutching a letter in his tiny hand again. “Here. Had to get the mage out of the tub. He weren’t too happy.”
“I’m sure,” Dane said, rolling his eyes. He took the letter and skimmed down the length before looking back at the demon. “All right. Next recipient, if you please.”
The demon brightened. “Well, I really don’t please, so thank you kindly, but I’ll—”
“Go,” Dane said sharply. Somner didn’t shrink back, which was progress, but he seemed somewhat concerned when Dane looked over at him. “Master Downing has no solution, but has offered a few books we might look at.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the building tension. “I shouldn’t have expected that he would have a solution, given that he’s been retired from all but Farthing University’s council and my uncle’s council for the past few years. He honestly practices the craft very little now, but I still thought that he might now.”
“He was your teacher,” Somner said, stepping closer. “That’s important. It is easy for you to assume that he would have the answers to your questions, just as you do for me. You depend upon him a great deal still.”
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
He felt Somner’s hand touch the back of his, fleeting and so soft that Dane barely knew that Somner had touched him at all.
“Then he might help yet.” Somner smiled, eyes growing heavy-lidded and playful. “And perhaps Stoneford won’t have an answer at all—that would be something to look forward to.”
The reply from Stoneford came a few moments later, though, and of course Stoneford would insist on coming over for further details than he had been given in his letter before giving them an answer. Neither Somner nor Dane was pleased.
Stoneford seemed somewhat bemused at his re-admittance into Dane’s rooms. Dane had banished him from them just after Valerian had died with the express order for him never to return. Dane rarely went back on his word, even if he was wrong in the first place, and Stoneford knew that full well.
“So why—precisely—have you called me here again? Your letter was a bit vague,” Stoneford said, looking around as if he expected a trap to befall him. Gingerly, he sat on the sofa. Dane began to wish that he had indeed summoned a demon to possess the couch, just to see Stoneford’s face.
Dane looked over his shoulder into the work room, where Somner had taken to straightening the bookshelves when they had been received Stoneford’s reply. He had the bearing of one vaguely disturbed by something; likely, he was as unhappy with Stoneford’s presence in their rooms as Dane was.
“Ah. Something to do with your Somner, then?”
Dane narrowed his eyes and turned back to Stoneford, who found the situation entirely too amusing for Dane’s comfort or taste.
“You know what happens when constructs expend too much energy?” he asked, rather than swear at Stoneford in the way that he desired.
Stoneford blinked, sitting up a little straighter. “Doesn’t everyone? But you didn’t fix it before you completed the ritual, did you.”
It was not a question. Dane flushed. “I honestly didn’t consider the issue. We want to fix it, but we haven’t been able to figure out why a failed construct or one with its energy expended have such particular needs.”
“You mean wanting to eat people?” Stoneford drawled. “Yes, I can imagine that would be difficult to find the source of if you only study books published several hundred years ago. Have you even read any of the new dissertations that have been published lately? Lissa Hallowell just finished writing her ‘Theories of Energy’ and Igor Moore wrote five years ago ‘The Complications of Animation Processes and the Mortal Soul.’”
“Yes, I realize that I have flaws, Ree. Your knowledge and ability to expound upon them is why you were no longer allowed in my rooms, if you remember correctly.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Somner put some books down and come to stand behind him, hovering just to the left of Dane’s chair. “Can you help us or not?”
Stoneford looked surprised. “Of course I can. Unlike you, I have read the latest dissertations. Have you ever considered why mage’s cannot consume meat?”
Dane frowned. “It interferes with the energies that we use, making it so that….” He swore softly. He really was an idiot.
Stoneford smiled, razor-sharp and smooth. “Precisely. And what do constructs crave when their energy is depleted?
“Flesh. They crave flesh. So one could hypothesize that if a construct was to eat the flesh of an animal once-living, like themselves, or even blood….”
“It would renew their energy. No one has been able to test this theory, since no one has made a successful construct in several years, and the studies have been focused on the ways that energy affects mages, but the theory still holds. Thrice is the one that explained it to me, so I suppose I am unable to take all of the credit—his specialty is healing, so he has had intimate contact with the way that energy affects living beings and homunculi.”
“I’m not alive, so Horace Bergman’s Theory of Conduction would suggest that what would interfere with the energies of mages would renew my energies,” Somner said musingly. He leaned against the back of Dane’s chair more heavily, and when Dane craned around to look at him, he saw Somner smile. “Can we try it?”
Dane turned back around to look at Stoneford, who was looking at Somner speculatively. “Can we?”
“It can hardly hurt anything, and if it doesn’t work, you can go to the library and actually read the dissertations for yourself.”
“There should be something available in the market. Somner, why don’t we—”
Somner shook his head. “Bring something back here. I… I should be able to find the books in the library for you. I know you’ll want to read them.”
It had only been a few days ago that Somner had been terrified to be on his own, to do new things. What if something happened to him while Dane was out?
“Somner…” he began reluctantly. Stoneford grabbed his arm.
“Come, Dane. The sooner we go, the sooner we’ll be back so you can test this. Somner, the library is the large building to the right of this one when facing it. You can also get there through the open hallways between the buildings.” Stoneford’s gaze held a warning, which irritated Dane beyond what was probably reasonable. Still, no harm would come to Somner in the university.
“All right. You might as well go,” he agreed. He found himself being pulled out of his rooms and down the hall without so much as a “by your leave.” When he finally realized what had happened, Dane managed to tug his arm out of Stoneford’s grip.
“Do not take such liberties with me, Stoneford,” he said, rubbing his arm like he could wipe the feeling away. They left the university proper and entered the expanse of the grounds, heading toward street level.
Stoneford laughed. “I’ve more than taken liberties with you before, my darling mage,” he said. He was suddenly quite cheery, striding fast, long, and low once they reached the city streets.
“A point which is now moot, my darling sin,” Dane drawled. He spotted the first of the market vendors—Annaliese’s Lunch—and passed it: like most of the food carts in town, Annaliese only served mages, or in other words, food without meat.
“Have you started courting him yet?” Stoneford asked. The question was startling, and of course Stoneford would have his head turned, eyes scanning for a vendor that would sell them what they desired, just when Dane wanted to read his expression most.
“He is in Valerian’s body, Stoneford,” he said flatly. He thought they had finished this discussion at the dinner with Master Downing, but he should have known better.
Stoneford snorted inelegantly, a gesture that would surely make his harridan of a mother crack him on the skull with her fan. “He is Somner or he’s nothing. He is certainly not Valerian, regardless of whether he is in his body and regardless of what you think. You know that.”
Dane chose to ignore this, as he didn’t particularly want to think about the issue. It was hardly even worth thinking about. “Do you think that vendor over there is likely?” he asked instead.
Stoneford laughed, probably not fooled in the least by Dane’s diversions. Despite not talking for several years, they knew each other too well not to still know these things about one another. “Certainly. It’s more than worth perusal.”
They went over to the vendor, discerned that he did indeed sell meat, and bought a hot bun, stuffed with meats and spices in the southern Green Isles-style of cooking. To be completely truthful, what kind or style of food it was didn’t matter. Somner paid little enough attention to what he put into his mouth, but whether or not Somner cared about what he put into his mouth, Dane cared.
“Dane, you know that he would rather kill himself than harm you or even impinge upon your good will in any way.”
Dane was beginning to become irritated. “Of course I know that!” he hissed, eyes darting to the men and women passing by on the streets back to the university. “Why do you think I try so hard to make certain that—” He stopped then. It was none of Stoneford’s business what he did and why.
Stoneford’s gaze slid over to meet his, narrow and suddenly cold. “That means that if he does care about you, even the slightest bit, that he will never tell you. If defining what he feels as ‘attraction’ even occurs to him, of course.”
They had reached the university grounds again and began the walk to the library building. Dane sighed irritably, tugging on his long tail of hair. “Stoneford, I cannot find the energy within me to converse on this with you. Ignoring that he is in Valerian’s body, do you really think it’s fair to him for me to… to court him, as you put it, when I am the only contact with the world he truly has?” Dane opened the library door and slipped through.
Stoneford, having no such delicacy in locomotion, banged the door open dramatically when he went through it. “Now you are simply making excuses, and I will have none of it. If you think that supposition is correct, then you are truly more of an ass than I thought you were. Somner must be allowed to make his own decisions, not have you make them for him.” He looked around briefly, then turned right. “This way.”
It took a while for them to reach the section where the latest dissertations and theses written by the university students and local scholar-mages attached to the university were found. The area was rather out of the way, sought only by other people associated with Farthing University. When they did, however, they were greeted with the sight of Somner, next to him a small pile of books, and flanking him on either side two simulacra, one who had its hands wound tightly around Somner’s arms and over his mouth, the other quickly drawing a spell circle that looked too much like a transportation spell for comfort.
The heads of the two simulacra snapped to look at Dane and Stoneford, and before either had been given time to process the sight, the simulacra crumbled, turning back into the clay they had been made from.
Somner fell to the floor, gasping hard, and Dane was right next to him. Somner didn’t even need to breathe; why was he breathing so hard?
“Somner, are you all right?!” Dane demanded. “What were they doing? Did they hurt you? Do you know why they were here? Did they cause any bruising? Can you even bruise? The lack of blood flow would suggest that you—”
“Dane, silence yourself,” Stoneford said calmly. He was leaning down next to them, his hand on Somner’s shoulder. “Are you all right, Somner?”
Somner’s breathing calmed, and when he looked up, his eyes were absolutely furious. “Yes. Now how in the Nine Hells did simulacra get inside the university grounds? There are wards built into the ceilings, walls, floors—I saw seven in this building alone and I am certain there are many more. So how did they get in here to go after me?”
“That’s what I would like to know,” Stoneford said, meditatively staring at the piles of clay on the floor. “And more importantly, who sent them?”
