Aradowsi,” a digital voice purred.
I looked down at the circular device. It was a plain, thick grey disc, with a panel of LED lights and buttons and some faded, indecipherable writing. It continued talking, lights flashing as it spoke. “I bid you and your companions welcome, and shall help you if I can.”
There are few instances that I can recall being struck completely speechless, having not the slightest idea what to say or how to proceed. This was one of them. Fortunately, Gloric broke the silence with his excitement.
“Oh, Your Grace, it is so very good to meet you!” he said to the machine. “I have been looking forward to this day since my first reprogram!”
“Welcome, Gloric Vunderfel,” the little thing buzzed, and the man beside him scribbled at his digitab, recording. “Your reputation precedes you. My drones tell me very good things about your work.”
The gnome beamed, and I took a closer look at the device, racking my brain for where I had seen its kind before. Recognition dawned as I remembered seeing a similar contraption in an architecture museum years ago, which had among its collection a number of household appliances that had been used in prior decades. This disc-shaped thing resembled exactly an automatic vacuum device that was purported to be among the first advances towards artificial intelligence. The very premise of true AI had been proved laughable as the science of technology progressed, but it seemed that not everyone knew everything.
Tribe and Alina seemed to catch on about as quickly as I did. I recovered from my surprise, kneeling in front of the machine.
“Your Grace,” I said formally, “we have come at great peril to ask for your wisdom on the Inquisitor General’s schemes to initiate a war with Aurichome. I intend to expose their plans, but our technomancer,” I nodded at Gloric, “has informed us that the information we seek is not accessible through the network.”
“Your technomancer knows much, Eskander Aradowsi,” the Sigil said, “but he sees facts, not patterns. The Inquisitor General and the auric king do indeed intend war with one another. Yet they are neither what they seem.”
I thought about the Sigil’s words, holding Buster at arm’s length. The wolf was trying to get his snout within sniffing range of the device.
“They’re working together?” I asked slowly.
The machine beeped in what must have been a nod. “It will be a tipping point in the battle of races. A watershed moment in the history of nations.”
That sparked something. “Project Watershed,” I said, looking to the group for support. “What is it?”
“I do not know the answer to this question,” the Sigil replied mechanically.
I sat back on my haunches, thinking. Karthax and the auric king being in cahoots would explain the dispensary full of ragers, and the NIGHT-trained auric assassins after us. I couldn’t quite grasp what either faction would get out of a full-blown war.
“Tribe Achebe,” the Sigil continued. “You too are not what you seem. You must decide which of the paths in front of you to take.”
Tribe shifted nervously, reaching into a pocket for his Oxidium, then remembering where he was and dropping his hand. “OK,” he said quietly.
The little vacuum turned on its wheels, facing Alina, then Gloric, and Vasshka. It seemed to be calculating.
“Alina Hadzic,” it intoned, “fight for that in which you believe, and your aim will always strike true.”
The Pitcher breathed in through her nose, considering. She nodded at the Sigil.
It turned to Gloric. “Gloric Vunderfel. My eyes and ears are everywhere, but they have no direction. I would have you be their captain.”
The gnome stood like a statue, unmoving. I nudged him gently with my elbow, holding back the wolf with my other hand.
“Yes, yes, Your Grace,” Gloric said, falling to a knee. “It would be my honor and
I looked down at the circular device. It was a plain, thick grey disc, with a panel of LED lights and buttons and some faded, indecipherable writing. It continued talking, lights flashing as it spoke. “I bid you and your companions welcome, and shall help you if I can.”
There are few instances that I can recall being struck completely speechless, having not the slightest idea what to say or how to proceed. This was one of them. Fortunately, Gloric broke the silence with his excitement.
“Oh, Your Grace, it is so very good to meet you!” he said to the machine. “I have been looking forward to this day since my first reprogram!”
“Welcome, Gloric Vunderfel,” the little thing buzzed, and the man beside him scribbled at his digitab, recording. “Your reputation precedes you. My drones tell me very good things about your work.”
The gnome beamed, and I took a closer look at the device, racking my brain for where I had seen its kind before. Recognition dawned as I remembered seeing a similar contraption in an architecture museum years ago, which had among its collection a number of household appliances that had been used in prior decades. This disc-shaped thing resembled exactly an automatic vacuum device that was purported to be among the first advances towards artificial intelligence. The very premise of true AI had been proved laughable as the science of technology progressed, but it seemed that not everyone knew everything.
Tribe and Alina seemed to catch on about as quickly as I did. I recovered from my surprise, kneeling in front of the machine.
“Your Grace,” I said formally, “we have come at great peril to ask for your wisdom on the Inquisitor General’s schemes to initiate a war with Aurichome. I intend to expose their plans, but our technomancer,” I nodded at Gloric, “has informed us that the information we seek is not accessible through the network.”
“Your technomancer knows much, Eskander Aradowsi,” the Sigil said, “but he sees facts, not patterns. The Inquisitor General and the auric king do indeed intend war with one another. Yet they are neither what they seem.”
I thought about the Sigil’s words, holding Buster at arm’s length. The wolf was trying to get his snout within sniffing range of the device.
“They’re working together?” I asked slowly.
The machine beeped in what must have been a nod. “It will be a tipping point in the battle of races. A watershed moment in the history of nations.”
That sparked something. “Project Watershed,” I said, looking to the group for support. “What is it?”
“I do not know the answer to this question,” the Sigil replied mechanically.
I sat back on my haunches, thinking. Karthax and the auric king being in cahoots would explain the dispensary full of ragers, and the NIGHT-trained auric assassins after us. I couldn’t quite grasp what either faction would get out of a full-blown war.
“Tribe Achebe,” the Sigil continued. “You too are not what you seem. You must decide which of the paths in front of you to take.”
Tribe shifted nervously, reaching into a pocket for his Oxidium, then remembering where he was and dropping his hand. “OK,” he said quietly.
The little vacuum turned on its wheels, facing Alina, then Gloric, and Vasshka. It seemed to be calculating.
“Alina Hadzic,” it intoned, “fight for that in which you believe, and your aim will always strike true.”
The Pitcher breathed in through her nose, considering. She nodded at the Sigil.
It turned to Gloric. “Gloric Vunderfel. My eyes and ears are everywhere, but they have no direction. I would have you be their captain.”
The gnome stood like a statue, unmoving. I nudged him gently with my elbow, holding back the wolf with my other hand.
“Yes, yes, Your Grace,” Gloric said, falling to a knee. “It would be my honor and
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