Book 3. Chapter 51

Book 3. Chapter 51

Brin woke up early. So early it was probably still late for some people. The middle of the night. Whatever the case, the fact was that he was awake and he couldn’t get back to sleep, not now. Not with what they planned to do today.

He got up, nodded to the guards keeping watch, and went over to sit near the bonfire, which only had a few smoking coals left.

For once, the anxiety burning a hole in his stomach didn't have anything to do with Aberfa. Well, it was only indirectly related to Aberfa. No, it was about the [Witch]. No matter how confident Hogg acted, taking down a [Witch] was never a simple matter, and Brin was expected to kill her familiar. Without any idea of what it was, he couldn't prepare. Hogg hadn't dared to send his Visible Eyes close, and when Brin had tried to send an Invisible Eye in the cave, he'd tripped some kind of anti-illusion defense and his spell had disappeared. He hadn't dared try again after that, lest the [Witch] in question become aware that she'd been found. Hopefully it wasn't already too late.

There had to be something he could do to prepare. He felt like it was the morning of an exam he hadn't studied for. Hard to believe he used to get stressed out about that sort of thing. No one would've died if Mark had failed a class and had to repeat a year, but it sure had felt like it, and that's what it felt like now.

He decided to run through his Self-Invisibility spell again. These past months he'd spent a lot of time going over his spells and paring down the amount of words of Language he needed to cast them. Lots of words could be combined or omitted by imbuing the words around them with more complexity of understanding and intent. Then it was just a matter of re-recording the faster version.

Self-Invisibility was still his slowest spell. It took him more than two minutes to cast it, which would never work in a combat scenario. He ran through the spell, not using the stored memory, but actually reading it out. He also didn't use [Directed Meditation].

In retrospect, [Directed Meditation] was probably his favorite Skill. If he had to return to his old life with only one Skill it would be difficult to take anything else.

Old Mark had been plagued with distractability and lack of focus. Some days if the problem was fun or interesting enough, he could sit for twelve hours and never glance away, but more often it was endless procrastination and avoidance. He'd go entire days staring at his computer screen, wanting to get started but not being able to force himself to do it. [Directed Meditation] changed all that. It gave him complete focus, every time. But there were downsides. The inability to notice anything else, even if he was on fire, was a big one. Another thing he noticed was that it made it easier to focus, but it also prevented all the odd random thoughts that led to innovation and creativity. He’d execute the task he’d set out for, but nothing else.

So rather than use his favorite Skill, Brin cast his spell the hard way. When it was done, he felt the spell come together, but didn't activate it. He didn't want one of the guards to see him disappear out of the corner of their eye. He let it dissipate.

He thought he could see one or two places that might be improved, but what was the point? Shaving one or two seconds off its speed wouldn't change the outcome today. He didn't know what time it was; three hours after midnight, maybe. Four more hours and the day would start. Was there anything he could do with that amount of time that would make a difference?

Logic and reason said no, but logic and reason hadn't gotten Mark through his Computer Science degree. Cramming at the last second before the deadline had. There was something he could do. There had to be.

It was strange, though. He didn't think about his old life that often lately. One reason was because it had been so different. He'd had a different skill set for a different set of problems. The other reason was because of Aberfa, because he was calling himself her son. When you told a lie often enough, you naturally started to think it was true. He needed to remember the truth. He was Brin, he was also still Mark, and he would never be Aberthol. In his own mind, he needed to remember that.

How would Mark solve this? Well, he would do the same thing that Brin was doing and wait until he got [Split Focus]. From Hogg's description of the Skill, it would give him the equivalent of additional processors that would let him do some real multitasking. [Persistent Casting] would do much the same thing. He would cast a spell the way he did now, but then [Persistent Casting] would take over and keep it running with very little Mana cost and virtually no concentration. Two roads to the same destination.

He wondered idly if his practice with multithreading would come in handy when he had that. Multithreading had been a hurdle in Brin's first job, because it was something that hadn't been covered very well in his degree, but it was all about how to run different tasks at the same time by sending them off to different processors.VịSit no(v)3lb/!n(.)com for new novels

Well, no, now that he thought of it, it was also about assigning work with just one processor. The computer would only seem like it was thinking of seventy things at once because it was switching between seventy different threads at lightning speed.

The problem here was context switching. If someone ever interrupted him at work he’d need at least ten minutes to remember what he was doing and get back on track. The human brain couldn't instantly switch back and forth between different tasks like that.

Could it? It occurred to him that he'd never actually tried. He’d remembered limits from his old life and never wondered if they even still applied. Brin's body was already capable of feats of Strength that would be impossible on Earth and Strength wasn't his highest attribute. Mental Control was.

Something like this would be impossible without complete focus, but he already had a solution for that.

One step at a time. First he wanted to see if what he was thinking of was even possible. He cast Invisible Eye by tracing it from his stored memories. Once it was ready, he activated [Directed Meditation] with a new set of instructions for himself.

He stopped concentrating on holding the spell together long enough to count to five as quickly as he could, and then snapped back to focus on the spell again. The spell was a bit wobbly, for lack of a better word, but he was able to stabilize it again and keep it going.

He deactivated [Directed Meditation] just long enough to smile and make a silent cheer. There was something here. There was something he could do with this. He looked at the sky, trying to estimate how much time he had before anyone else woke up. Not long enough.

He needed to figure out his limits. With [Directed Meditation] again, he alternated the amount of time he spent apart from his spell, starting at a second and moving up. He could get up to three seconds, but if he waited that long the spell would be almost completely broken and it would take another twenty seconds to get it back together again. Two seconds was the sweet spot. When he switched back to the spell it would only take a quick burst of effort to wrap it all up again.

Next, he focused on how long he needed to stay with the spell each time he switched back, and found that a quarter of a second worked best. Longer was a waste of time, and shorter wouldn't fully stabilize the spell.

Even that much took Brin nearly an hour to figure out, because every time he let the spell fall apart he had to cast the entire thing again from scratch. By the end of the hour, though, he had a pretty good rhythm going. In just one hour, he now only needed one-ninth of his attention to keep Invisible Eye going.

Last minute cramming was really something else.

Now what could he actually do with it? His first test was with the Invisible Eye itself. He'd taken to using Invisible Eye without [Directed Meditation] so that he'd be able to actually think about what he was looking at. It was harder that way, but he'd thought it was the only way. Could he back out of [Directed Meditation] during his two seconds of free time? There was no way; when he'd first learned to meditate from Hogg he'd taken a half hour to get into the right headspace. But once again, he was placing limits on himself without actually testing it.

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“What?” demanded Hogg.

“You said I can’t argue with any part of this...”

“Just say it,” Hogg groaned.

“My strongest attack would be using the spear I have hidden in Lumina’s ring. If I spend some time charging it with all the glass magic it can fit, and then propel it with my best words of Language it’ll destroy almost anything. The first problem with that is that I don’t know if the spear will survive, but more importantly, that’s not what Aberfa wants.”

“I’m not sure I care what she wants. No, I am sure: I don’t care what she wants,” said Hogg.

“In that case, you should just go off and take care of everything yourself. The point of this whole exercise is to gain her trust until she lets something slip, and to do that we’ve got to play things her way. She doesn’t just want me to beat the familiar, she’s going to want me to beat it in a certain way. She’ll want me to get a feel for it and then undo it with the Wyrd. That’ll take a minute. It may even look like I’m struggling.”

Hogg chewed on that for a minute, considering it. “Fine. Do it your way. But if you take too long, someone else will step in. I’m not going to change what I told everyone else.”

“Fair enough,” said Brin.

Hogg led him through the trees a distance until they reached a clearing with the others.

To his surprise, he saw Davi there, looking grim and stone faced with the others. Araunya the [Camp Chef], Jeffrey the [Bard], and Pio the [Beast Master] stood chatting softly. The giant boar, Big Ron, lay in the grass taking a nap. Myra stood with folded arms looking nervous. Only Zilly seemed in a good mood, and she bounced on her heels in excitement. When Brin arrived, Marksi jumped down from Zilly's shoulders and leapt into Brin's arms.

"You sure?" Hogg asked Davi. Davi nodded in reply.

Brin wasn't sure what had made Davi initially say no, and he couldn't guess why his friend had changed his mind. The only thing he could think of was that Davi really did know that his mom was a [Witch] after all. He had to know, right? If not, then Brin would feel terrible for keeping it from him. His study of the Wyrd had made it clear to him that he owed a lot more to Davi than he did to Bruna.

"This way," said Hogg, and the group left with him.

The walk was pleasant, if a little awkward. Everyone seemed to be in their own heads, preparing for battle. The old [Camp Chef] didn’t carry any kind of weapons, but had a backpack on her back. Brin honestly didn’t know what her role would be, but didn’t want to pierce the silence and ask. Better to leave everyone to their reflection.

Despite the somber mood, the weather was beautiful. The day was nice and cool and the morning air was fresh and clean. The sun was shining, the grass was green, but no birds chirped in the trees. There were no buzzing insects. They’d be facing undead, then.

All too soon Hogg called a halt to the party.

“There. You can just see it through the trees.” He spoke in a low whisper, barely perceptible over the sound of the breeze, and if Brin knew Hogg at all then he knew he was masking all sound to anyone outside their group.

Brin peered through the trees and saw something. Maybe at night it would be otherworldly and bright but now it was nothing more than a faint glimmer, barely perceptible in the full daylight. A lightbulb with no bulb, almost a mirage.

[Inspect] called it a Wisp, and gave no further information.

“And the cave entrance is over there,” said Hogg. “I think it’s trying to lead us away. We’ll split into two groups and... Ah! Sezorat’s blood-drenched mirrors!”

“What?” Brin looked around for the source of Hogg’s distress.

“It’s Zilly. She’s gone.”

Brin counted the group again, and Hogg was right. The whole group was there, minus one.

Myra and Davi met his eyes, all three of them sharing the same emotion: equal parts irritation and worry. Jeffrey out of all of them, Jeffrey seemed the most affected. “I can’t believe I didn’t see her slip away!”

Pio growled, and his giant boar perked up at the sound and started to look serious. Pio said, “Idiot girl. I will not wait to see how she means to screw this up. We have the plan. Two groups. We go now, yes?”

“Yes,” said Hogg. “Brin, take down the familiar. The rest of you come with me.”