Corvis cranked the handle the required thirty
times and then clicked the microphone three times. After a moment, he tried again. After a moment, the speaker clicked back. He felt
relief when it repeated so he hadn't imagined it.
The AM radio worked best at night; he wasn't certain as to why. Each time
he cranked the handle, it
gave the generator a few seconds of power as the flywheel spun. He began to
crank at a steady pace with one hand as he tapped out the message with his
transmitter.
Recently his handler had complained that
his last four messages had been badly garbled. He was to report in at night at
the required hour. His message frequency had stepped up to twice a hafta even
though he didn't have much to report.
They wanted information that the
Imperium spy wasn't able to gather. He wasn't about to stick his neck out
further to get it too. Stuff like the status of the royal family, movement
patterns, information about their armies, technology, and so on.
He had confirmed that the spy that had
been flushed out and captured had died in an accident. They had passed orders
for him to cooperate and not resist if he was ever caught. He hoped it never
came to that sort of a scenario though.
He confirmed the previous report he'd
made that more spies had headed south some time ago. He also confirmed that
other spies were reporting in with things that were making their way across the
border. Where he wasn't certain.
It took a few patient minutes to tap the
order out. Once he was done,
he stopped.
Once his message was complete, he waited for the acknowledgement. It
came in with a series of beeps. He hastily used the side of his hand to wipe
the slate clean and jot out the response.
He grunted and then tapped out a quick
okay and then shut down for the night.
The radio was disguised. He broke it down
and hid the pieces under the
floorboard and behind a hidden cubbard. The one thing he couldn't hide was the
very long antenna. That was tacked to the underside of the eaves and up to the
point on the roof. He'd painted the copper wire though so it matched the honey
color stone and the wood on the building. He had covered parts of it with trim
to hide it further.
Just as an extra precaution, he had tied the end he plugged into to
a stake in the ground. If anyone asked about it, he had a ready cover story; it was a lightning rod. It was to ward off lightning
strikes.
He hoped he never had to use that cover
story however.
He sat back and checked the slate. There
were two more spies coming in. Both would need temporary lodging. He was fine
with that, though it was hoped that they never came to him and instead went to
an inn. There was a lot of safety in not knowing each other and not
congregating.
He had a cover story in case they did
come to his door; they
were cousins looking for work after their farm had burned down. They were going
to need a place though … he
frowned.
They would hopefully bring that to him, he thought. He grimaced and then went
to make dinner.
One of the things that sucked about
being a bachelor was being on his own to cook and clean. He didn't like it. He
could go to the tavern, but that got expensive quickly. If he was there too
often, people started to wonder about his
finances. He had to limit his visits to when he had just finished a job or once
a mens.
Since he was alone, he took out a block of cheese,
carefully unwrapped it, cut off a slice, rewrapped it tightly, and then did the
same for some dried sausage. A bit of butter and a couple slices of bread
toasted and he had a nice sandwich to eat by the fire as he planned his next
day activities.
Of course it all hinged on the weather, he thought with a weather eye to the
small window nearby. He couldn't tell. The sky wasn't red so he would only be
able to tell in the morning.
---+--+-{0}-+--+---
Khalia
finished reading the pamphlet from the Imperium University again and
sighed. It was a copy and already a bit dog-eared from its wear. She got up,
stretched and then went to find her father.
He was
watching the grandchildren at play and she smiled. Her possible wedding was on
hold; Torinus had fallen ill. She was avoiding his home because
she didn't want to catch whatever he had. There had been requests by the
medicus for some of the gaijin medicines and knowledge. The duke had not
provided any.
She had
to wonder sometimes if the alliance was off. Possibly.
Her
first marriage had been something of a farce. Her father or someone else, no
one had voluntarily come forward to say that they were the guilty party,
had arranged her first mate's death. Her lips twitched. His holdings had been
looted, and the lands and rusticus returned to the duke's personal
holdings since she hadn't born any heirs to the family.
Pity
about that, she thought in amusement.
"We
need to find a proper tutor soon. One who knows the ins and outs of the new
gaijin knowledge," her father rumbled thoughtfully. He nodded once.
She
realized that his comment was what she needed. It was the opening to a topic
that needed to be broached. She decided to take the plunge.
"Father,
we need to do that with the whole kingdom," Khalia said as she sat down
next to him.
He
blinked in surprise and then one eyebrow lifted in inquiry.
"You
know that the Imperium has their universities."
He
nodded.
"We
need to find ways to catch up. We cannot hoard knowledge;
it must be spread about," she said. "Like seeds, we need to cultivate
the knowledge or it will be lost. And we need to get it into the right hands so
we can make some of the machina that the Imperium is making."
He
frowned.
Khalia saw his intransigence
begin to build. "We have to match them. We can't do that with some things
being in secret."
Her
father's frown deeped.
"We
have started to make up ground with the medicus and hygiene, but you and I both
know it isn't enough," she warned.
He
nodded. She had been the one to do a lot there. She had also gotten him to pass
laws to ban the pests that were known to cause diseases. Cats and sprays were
being used to keep the pests down to a minimum. It was making people healtheir.
"They
will find out we have some of this eventually, right? If they have
not already? Why not put it out there? Learn from it, figure out what we can,
and then sell it to the rusticus?"
"Them?"
he asked in distaste.
"Yes!
And we can sell it to merchants who will sell it too. Right now they are buying
it from traders who cross the border into the Imperium or into Duluth. Why not
learn to make it here?" She implored.
He
frowned again. He had heard of some things being bought and brought over or
traded for the products of his kingdom. The guilds wouldn't like it though.
His
duchy's wool exports were not worth as much as it had been. Their textiles too.
Metal was highly prized but heavy, and the carters therefore didn't like
to haul it long distances. That economic downturn bothered many of his
merchants. They wanted improvements.
"Why
shouldn't we employ our own people to do the work and profit from it?" she
asked as she sened another opening.
Her
father grunted. She had a point. After a moment, he nodded.
She saw
the opening and smiled.
"You
yourself were looking for things to trade with the pirates,
right? Things to offset the costs of paying them tribute? Things to get them to
give up the secrets of the guns?"
He
nodded again.
"They
don't need engines or steam engines; they have those from the reports
Dominic has passed on," she reminded him. "They have aircraft. They
have better ships …"
"You
aren't telling me things I don't know."
"I'm
listing what they have while trying to look for something that they don't have.
Such as the metals we have in the mines around here," she said patiently.
He
cocked his head and then made a slight go-on gesture.
"Well,
what if our people develop something that they crave? Something important
enough to get them to trade the secrets of the weapons for?" she said
slyly.
He sat
back and stared at the ceiling as he gamed that out. It was a long shot but she
had a point. He had been trying to trade them sabotaged copies of material from
the Imperium. But what if his people developed the ideas further and applied
them here and sold copies of working machina to the pirates? Would they trade
the secrets of gunpowder to him? He finally looked at her and nodded once.
"Besides,
introducing change isn't a bad thing. If it makes our industry better, that is
good. We have better mines, more timber. We have artisans who are the
best."
"Were,"
Harbard stated gloomily from the nearby door.
She
glanced at her brother and then back to their father. "Then as a bid for
our pride, I say we push to make them the best again. What say you,
father?"
He
nodded.
Harbard
cocked his head slightly.
"The
Imperium and Duluth both have these universities, these higher places of
learning. Caliope had something similiar. We need to match them," he said
slowly. He studied his granddaughter with interest. She gave a bright sunny
smile and then went back to playing with the puzzle in front of her.
"Passing
on the information to the next generation is imperative if we want to adapt and
survive, father," Khalia said quietly.
"She
is right," Harbard stated as he turned to see Avery,
their steward, arrive with the treasurer, Clive Deluise,
in tow. Both men took in the conversation and took on artful thoughtful
expressions.
The
duke nodded after a moment.
"It
will be expensive," Clive warned after a long moment of thought. He knew
that it was time to get on board with the plan.
"All
endeavors worthy of change are. But they pay off many times the initial start-up
costs later," Khalia stated firmly.
"Start
small. We will find those who can learn and adapt and others to train them. A …
think tank I believe they call it?" Harbard asked. He looked to his sister
who nodded.
The
grand duke grunted but then nodded. "See to it," he ordered with a
look to Avery. The steward placed his bad arm over his abdomen and bowed
slightly.
"There
are spies coming back with more things from the festival,
correct?" Clive asked. "Should we wait until they return?"
"That
is a long time away." Harbard stated with a dismissive wave of a hand.
"We need to lay the groundwork now for the university. We can start with
what we have and identify what needs to be a focus."
"Such
as the gaijin weapons," Avery stated with a look to the grand duke.
"And ways to stop them. The old armor versus offense battle," he
said.
The
grand duke grunted.
That
had ever been the way with warfare; offense would look for a new weapon
to kill and get through or around armor. Then the armorers would see the
weakness and find a way to cover it over. Then the whole system would start
anew like an ever-rotating wheel.
There
had to be ways to defend against the gaijin weapons. They just needed to find
them.
"Put
an emphasis in looking through the old archives. There are some gaijin who came
and settled here in the past. They spoke of such things;
there are a few examples. Find them."
"We
have looked," Avery stated.
The
grand duke frowned thoughtfully and then noted the clock. It was ticking away
on the mantle. He indicated it. It was made out of slate and was beautiful.
"Perhaps them?"
Heads
turned to the clock.
"Find
the clockmaker. Ask them what they know. Perhaps the ancestor kept records? Or
passed down stories?" Khalia suggested with a nod to her father.
"Exactly,"
the grand duke said with an answering nod.
"The
artisans can be recruited to the university as well," she said.
"Yes,
that too," the duke murmured.
"Younger
minds are the best. Fresh ideas demand fertile ground and fresh energy,"
Khalia stated. Her father and Avery both nodded.
---+--+-{0}-+--+---
