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Prologue

A New beginning

The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science.

– Albert Einstein

It wasn't the beginning of the end. It wasn't even the end of the beginning.

The collapse of Earth's technology, the Fall that we blamed on the Tourists, had happened. You could call it an end, of sorts. It was an end to the world that was, a world that might never return. Had millions, maybe even billions starved? Certainly. Had the globe-spanning networks of commerce and communications died, when alien technology failed? Undoubtedly. Had all the nations splintered into tiny kingdoms and city states? Of course.

But was it the end of humans? No. We could live without the technology of the Ancients. Just not as well.

Older technologies resurfaced to take the place of what we had lost. As automobiles failed, horse populations rose. Hardware stores closed and a new generation of blacksmiths set up shop. Pharmaceutical companies perished, and herbalists took their place. Everywhere, low-tech alternatives from before the Age of Machines filled the gap left by vanishing infrastructure.

The question was not whether we would recover, but how, and how long it would take. There were those like the former Honcho of the Lone Star Empire who dreamed of restoring our former glory by eliminating the alien technology, and rebuilding our technology without it. They sought to unify the splintered nations by conquest.

They were not always successful.

But there were also those who knew that the Fall was not caused by the magic alien technology, but by our failure to replicate, develop, and maintain it, once the aliens left. In short, our lack of magic tech support caused the Fall.

It took a while, but eventually long-term exposure of humans to the remaining alien tech caused, in some, the development of new abilities.

Once they manifested, these abilities, though rare, were frightening to many people.

Some of these wonder-workers were killed, out of fear. Some obtained the protection of local rulers. A few gained safety by becoming the local rulers.

And some had the foresight to pass on their knowledge, to take on apprentices, and even, in some cases, to begin to set up schools to teach their discoveries.

Wizards were among us again.

And that was a new beginning.

Chapter 1

Lester: The Thin Ice of The New Day

The last rays of the sun were yielding to the coming of night when the daily express from Denver pulled into the village. The team of horses clattered to a stop by the watering trough. Inverness! Get out and stretch yer legs if you want, We're movin' on in ten minutes.

Clem looped the reins around a knob on the dashboard and climbed out of the driver's seat. He ambled around to the passenger exit in case anyone needed helping down and stamped snow off his boots. At first, no one budged, and he was about to duck into the inn for an ale for the road when the vehicle resounded to the steps of a passenger who might have changed his mind about staying put.

Lester stepped down carefully, leaned on his staff, and looked around the place. Little had changed in the months he had been gone. Not that he had expected it to. He brushed back the hood of his gray robe, smelling the clean cold air. Thanks for the ride, Clem, he said, and strode off toward the front door of the inn.

He kicked his boots against a hitching post to loosen the snow they had picked up and reached out to open the door.

Before he could pull on it the door flew open and his mother embraced him. Oh my baby! she cried into his shoulder. You're home! I was so worried.

He hugged her back. I'm fine, he told her. And I'm sorry I couldn't write. You've no idea how busy I've been.

She released him and put her hands on his shoulders. You look taller.

That's just my new boots, he said. How have you and Drew been? I need to speak with you in private, when you get a chance.

Oh, we're all fine, she said, ignoring the fact that he hadn't asked after Gerrold. Where did you get that robe? But what am I doing, keeping you on the street. Come in and wash up for dinner, the stew should be ready in a few minutes.

In a minute. There's something I need to do first. He turned and strode off down the road.

The smithy was not far. It was an old story. When coaches ran long routes and needed to stop somewhere to rest the horses, a hamlet would form. The first thing that appeared was always the inn, usually hardly more than a watering trough and roofed room with a hearth. As the inn grew, adding rooms and a larger kitchen, the next building to spring up was the smithy. Even if there wasn't enough business out in the middle of nowhere for full-fledged smith, you could usually rely on a farrier to set up shop, eking out a living from horses that had thrown a shoe or re-forging broken plows for nearby farmers.

Once people noticed that a way station was forming, the next building to appear was the general store. It started with just feed for the horses and branched out to supply the growing inn with foodstuffs and linen and so on when traffic picked up.

From this point on the growth of the rest stop turned hamlet would begin to accelerate. The next building was usually a small church to serve the farmers who were only too happy to stop driving all the way to the nearest town. The appearance of even a small chapel officially transformed the hamlet into a village.

Other buildings appeared in short order, as the inn added more rooms and a stable for horses to come in out of the rain. Soon there would be a local seamstress, or even a teacher setting up shop teaching in the tiny church that doubled as a one-room school. When the size of the settlement justified it, a butcher's son would throw up a shed for farmers to bring old or extra livestock that for various reasons they were to busy to slaughter themselves. This, in turn, set the stage for a tanner and a leather worker...since no one eats hide. Just as the farmer's cast-off became the butcher's source, so the butcher's unwanted hides became opportunities for a tanner.

His mind was wandering again. By the time he forced himself to stop following that chain of thoughts, he nearly passed the smithy.

The sun was nearly down, and the air was already getting frosty, but Jonathan barely noticed it. The glory hole of his forge was pouring hot air out into the smithy, making it warm enough for Lester to begin sweating under his robe as soon as he stepped in. Jon was hammering a piece of iron into a shape Lester didn't immediately recognize, and wearing the thinnest of shirts under the leather apron that he wore for the occasional spark or metal sliver.

Lester knew better than to interrupt a smith at his work, so he just leaned on his staff and waited until the metal part's glow had died and Jon stopped to grab the tongs and shove it back into the forge to reheat it. Jon seized the handle of the bellows with his free hand and pumped the coals brighter until he was satisfied.

When Jon turned away from the glow of the glory hole he finally noticed his visitor. Without putting down the tongs he wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. What can I do for you? Then he seemed to recognize Lester. Oh, it's you. Haven't seen you 'round here. Something break at the inn?

No. Lester glanced around the smithy. Do you happen to have any pipe on hand?

Jon eyed him. I might, he said. What diameter do you need?

Lester shrugged. Doesn't matter much to me. It's more like a case of what diameter you need.

Come again?

Lester pointed at the bellows. It was a small model. It lay on a square brick pedestal next to the forge, parallel to the wall, with one handle lashed down so that Jon could pump it with one hand. What's the nozzle diameter you use?

Now Jon was staring at him. What are you getting at? Thinking of going into business for yourself making bellows for smiths? Not much call for that around here.

No, said Lester. But as it happens, I need a bit of pipe and since I've no money, I thought maybe we could help each other out. What's the diameter?

Jon's brows creased in bafflement. Inch and a half. Look, I guess you heard my striker's gone off to Denver to join up. But I don't think your ma can spare you long enough for you to work off the cost of some pipe. If you – "

Lester raised a hand. "She's done without me for a few months now. But that's not what I had in mind. We both know your everflame isn't as good as it used to be, or you wouldn't have rigged up the bellows."

Here Jon frowned. So? I ain't complaining. With charcoal and a bellows I do just fine. Carolyn's been helping me on the bigger jobs since she was big enough to reach the handle. When I'm between strikers, I mean.

I'm sure she has. What would you say if I could give you something better than a bellows? Would that be worth, say, a dozen feet of pipe?

The smith pursed his lips. Dunno what you're thinking, youngster, but decent pipe ain't cheap. It's not much fun turning it out myself, so I get mine from the guy over in Farlow.

Lester sighed. He could feel his patience with this evaporating. Have you got a short piece the same diameter as the bellows nozzle? It'll be easier for me to just show you.

Jon grumbled a bit, but he rummaged a bit on his odds and ends barrel and came up with a piece about a foot and a half long. Lester accepted it and held it in front of him, willing himself to relax and open his mind to pathspace.

As he closed his eyes and reached out to sculpt the space around the pipe, he became aware of a peculiar sensation. It was a kind of echo, almost as if there two pieces of pipe he was working on, except one of them was about twenty feet away. Startled, he opened his eyes for a moment and lost his concentration. When he returned to his task he felt it again, that echo, but this time it was closer.

At this, he nearly dropped the pipe, but he forced himself to hang onto it and finish what he was doing. In a few moments it felt right. Reaching forward, he slipped the loop of rope off the bottom handle of the bellows and pulled it from the hole in the side of the forge. Before Jon could say anything, he shoved the end of the short length of pipe in.

I don't see how a longer nozzle will be any better, Jon muttered. And you'll still need leather and a couple of poles for handles to make a bigger bellows.

No I won't. Watch. Lester stroked the other end of the pipe, moving a finger along it toward the forge.

The was a faint hissing of indrawn air and the coals in the forge blazed brighter. He let Jon stare at it for a moment before he stroked the pipe back the other way, turning it off again. "You don't need to pump a bellows anymore, Jon. Now you have a swizzle. Much easier."

Jon took his eyes off the swizzle. Now he was staring at Lester. How did you do that?

Was that respect in his eyes...or fear? Something the court wizard up in Denver taught me, he explained. I'm his new apprentice. He paused to wipe his own brow. Well, isn't that worth a few feet of pipe?

The smith rubbed his chin. He was about to answer when the sound of boots crunching on snow made them both turn.

Carolyn stood framed in the doorway. Lester swallowed. How had he forgotten how beautiful she was? He shut his eyes for a moment. Yes, sure enough, the echo was only a few feet away now. It was her. Well, well!

Are you going to be much longer? she asked her father. Then Lester saw recognition in her eyes. Lester? It is you, isn't it? Almost didn't recognize you in that robe. Where have you been?

Apprenticing with Xander, up in Denver. How've you been? Still going out with Burton?

Not really, she said. Not for a couple of months. That's a story for another time. Who's Xander?

Set the table, Jon told her. I'll be in to join you in a minute. He turned to Lester. How much did you say you needed? A dozen feet, was it?

Yes. If you don't have it on hand I guess I could always come back later.

Let me go check the shed. He hurried off to look.

Lester suppressed a smile and shook his head. In a hurry to get rid of me, aren't you? Oh, he wanted the swizzle all right, but that didn't mean he wanted Lester hanging around his daughter.

Carolyn laughed. She hadn't budged. Should I set an extra place?

He grinned. Thanks, but no. I just got home, and my mom would pitch a fit if I ducked out of dinner the first night back. But I do want to speak with you tomorrow, if you've time.

Jon came back in with two pipes. These are six foot lengths. I suppose you'll need them joined.

Yep. Sorry, I should have mentioned that.

No trouble, no trouble at all, said Jon, setting the pipes against the wall and reaching for his tools. He eyed Lester. Anything else you need before I close up for dinner?

Lester thought. Actually, there is. Can you put a j-bend on one end?

Chapter 2

Kareef: Troubling Doubts

So, if thou art in doubt regarding what We have sent down to thee, ask those who recite the Book before thee. The truth has come to thee from thy Lord; so be not of the doubters

– Quran 10:94

The other students had filed out of the madresah, but Kareef did not follow them from the school. Nizar, his teacher, had asked him to stay, and so he stayed.

Even now, as he sat on a cushion trying to quiet his mind, he could hear the approaching footsteps of the Mullah. He opened his eyes and waited for the elder to speak.

Kareef, I sensed today that you are having more disquieting thoughts. Is this true?

Na-am. Yes. I feel like a boat adrift on unfamiliar waters. I wonder what certainties I can cling to.

Nizar seated himself across from him. Kareef, what are the five pillars of Islam?

Kareef almost laughed. He knew that would have been disrespectful, but did Nizar really think that reciting the trained responses would bring him any nearer to certainty?

But he had been asked, so he would answer. "The five pillars are the Shahadah, the SalatZakat, the Sawm, and the Hajj. The Declaration of one God, the five-times-daily prayers, the giving to the poor, the fasting in Ramadan, and the Pilgrimage."

And do you have doubts, questions, or disquieting thoughts about these?

"Yes I do. To begin with, how can any of us undertake the Hajj? Ever since the Fall, we have lost contact with other continents. We cannot walk to Mecca, so what meaning does the Hajj still have for us, if any?"

Nizar regarded him from under graying bushy eyebrows for a moment, stroking his beard. "Do you think that is the only possible meaning of the Hajj?

Kareef shifted on his cushion, suddenly uncomfortable. He didn't feel like turning his doubts into an excuse for another lecture. What do you think?

Nizar raised an eyebrow. You could think of it as a spiritual quest. Forgive me for saying so, but I am sure Allah knows what we can and cannot do. He knows of the storms that raged when the weather control satellites failed, and how the failure of the old technologies ended sea voyages.

"Then why should He expect the Hajj? Or do we maintain the thought of it out of mere tradition?

Has it occurred to you, Nizar said, upon reflection, "that perhaps you could go on Hajj without crossing the ocean?

Kareef tried not to frown. Is this a riddle?

Nizar smiled. "No. From our books we know something of other societies, and in many other cultures there is the tradition of a spiritual quest. On the far continent of Australia, for example, they call it 'going on Walkabout'.

Kareef absorbed this. "And you think this it is some kind of universal coming-of-age thing? Is that why we still include the Hajj in the Five Pillars? To imitate other societies?"

Nizar grew serious. No, of course not. I was merely pointing out a parallel.

"And what about the Zakat, the giving of savings to the poor and needy? Am I, a poor student, supposed to give money I do not have? Or merely to feel guilty that I cannot?"

Allah knows who can give and who cannot.

And the Sawm, the fasting and self-control during Ramadan. The rest of the year it doesn't really apply, does it? To me, it appears that my own Islam rests on only two pillars, the Declaration and the Prayers. Is that enough? Even a chair or table needs at least three legs."

These doubts you are having, said Nizar, do you think you are the first to think of them? They are a natural part of growing up in the world. Time and experience will answer them.

But there's more, Kareef said. "In my younger years when I learned of our country, it appeared that it had always existed. But that's not true, is it? From the books in the Library I have learned that the first settlers of this land from outside were not Muslim. Yet here we are. How did we come to be here, and why was the subject glossed over in our younger classes?"

Now it was Nizar who shifted on his cushion. It is true, what you say. The founding of the Emirates was not so long ago. But the details of it would disturb the young, and so we do not cover that until students are older. It is covered in the final year before graduation.

But why? What details? An uncomfortable thought occurred to him. Is it because of bloodshed? Our history studies covered wars in the past. What's one more?

Nizar sighed. Since you are asking, I shall not hold back. The time of the Founding was a bloody one. The Faithful were not the first group to come to this continent, but come we did. When the Gifts of the Tourists failed and civilization fell, we were already here.

But surely we were few among many.

Yes, said Nizar. but in the unrest after nations fell, there were many such groups in America. Some were absorbed, but some were not. The great Melting Pot of America did not always melt us all together, once national unity was lost.

That much is obvious from geography, said Kareef. But it does not explain how we hold so much territory, yet not all. Why have we not conquered the entire land from sea to sea? Does Allah no longer favor our warriors? Or have we grown complacent?

Nizar leaned back on his cushion. There have been times, in our past, he admitted, when Islam was an Empire that covered much of the known world."

You mean, back before the spread of Christianity.

Yes. I think you will find, if you look further into the books of the Library, that many religions go through a period of missionary zeal, a period in which it seems that followers are obligated to spread their faith by any means. Islam was no exception.

Are you saying that we have decided the lessons of the past were wrong, and have settled down to become comfortable neighbors?

Nizar eyed him. I am saying, he said, finally, that a mind is like a bag – it can only be filled when it is open. As we grow in wisdom, we see that Allah does not need us to be barbarian conquerors. There is evil to resist in the world, it cannot be denied. But the greater struggle is always within us. What is the point of seeking to convert strangers if we do not rule our own thoughts? And then there is the matter of tolerance. Before the coming of the extremists, Islam was known as a religion of tolerance.

Kareef frowned at this. But aren't we too tolerant? We have Christians within our borders. If they came to outnumber the Faithful, would they not seek to change our government and way of life? Should they not be required to be as we are?

That is not tolerance, said the Mullah. It would set a bad example, and make trade with other countries difficult. How can we be less accepting than those of the North? Have we smaller hearts than them?

The people of New Israel? Kareef was taken aback. "Are you saying we should imitate them?"

Nizar nodded. I am. Their government has elements of religion in it, and yet those descendants of Jacob have many Christians and even Muslims among them. They do not feel their faith is weakened by tolerance, or by the presence of differing faiths and opinions. And yet they are a people who have suffered many persecutions. In ages past, many Jews were killed by Christians and by Muslims. If they can see past ancient conflicts and open their country to all, can we do any less?

Here Kareef pursed his lips. Perhaps they are not so much open-minded as more geographically fortunate. The area of the Desolation between them and the Emirates has the effect of limiting their visitors more than it does ours.

Nizar shook his head. Do you truly think they are fortunate to have less farmland than us?

They have more mines, Kareef muttered.

Yes but you cannot eat ore, can you? Our population has expanded more rapidly than theirs, and the Desolation is only one reason for it. We simply can support more people than they can. He paused. It was different, back in the times of the Ancients. Back then, the cities of the North had millions of citizens.

Kareef's face spoke plainly of his doubt of this. Millions? How would one feed a million people in a small place?

You are forgetting the conveyances of the Ancients, their cars and trucks. Every day the equivalent of many caravans would come into a city such as new York. Their trucks and trains brought food, clothing, all the necessities of life, grown and manufactured elsewhere. Cities breathed them in as your body breathes in the air.

But that's all gone now.

Yes. Now they are much as we are, with much smaller cities and more farmers than city-dwellers.

Still, said Kareef, unwilling to concede the point, they have more mines."

Why does that bother you? The Emirates have survived quite well without a lot of metal. Our winters are milder, so we don't need coal, either. The land gives us what we need.

But what if we needed more weapons? The northerners are not the only people we might still have to fight.

Nizar was silent for a moment. Unfortunately, you are right, he said. The news from the West is not good. The Lone Star Empire is apparently preparing for another period of expansion.

Why?

Probably because much of the Honcho's Empire is desert. Without the irrigation systems of the Ancients, most of West Texas has reverted to dry sand again. Which means they have two options, go North or East. The country of Rado to their north has resisted their invasion attempts in the past. They might decide to try conquering to the East this time.

"Which puts us squarely in their path. But don't you see? That means we do need more weapons, to fight them off."

Swords do not prevail against arrows, the Mullah reminded him. And there are reports that the Texans have uncovered a cache of ancient weapons, things like cannons on carts that can travel swiftly to battles. Against those, our finest horsemen and archers would be useless.

I had not heard this, said Kareef.

It is not common knowledge, said Nizar. And according to our operatives...

Our spies, you mean.

All right. According to our spies, the only reason he hasn't used his armored vehicles against us is he doesn't have the fuel for them. But the Honcho is resourceful. He may find a way to recreate the fuel he needs.

Then we should seek alliances with his enemies.

Now, finally, we reach my destination, the Mullah said. "It is time to talk about your own Hajj, your own Quest."

Chapter 3

Xander: Afterthoughts and Consequences

Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts.

– Winston Churchill

He watched the workmen with little comment as they went about their tasks, readying dorm rooms and classrooms for his school. An observer might have noticed nothing in his expression. But his thoughts were elsewhere.

Why so somber, wizard?

He turned as Aria stepped out of the stairwell. I would have thought you'd be happy, she said. Finally starting your school...and at the expense of my gardens.

We've talked about this. You weren't using the floors below yours anyway.

Her chin jutted. Well, I could have, if you hadn't gotten them first. We can always use more garden space. Unless you plan to take your students off to distant fields in the Summer, to teach them about herbs.

I'm sure our students will appreciate your gardens, eventually, he said. But to have students, one must have a school. He glanced sideways at her. But what do you care? Aren't you going to be spending half of each year in Texas?

Aria's lips compressed, and he saw he had touched upon a sensitive area. Having second thoughts?

No, she said. I'm way past second thoughts about the engagement. I'm more on fourth and fifth thoughts now.

Like what? Anything you want to talk about?

She watched a carpenter putting up a bookshelf before answering. I feel like I've saved Rado by betraying it. How can I marry the ruler of Texas when I'm supposed to take over for my mother here?

It will be complicated, he agreed.

And that's just the start. What about the children? If we have a son, his people will want to raise it as the Runt, the next Texan heir. But what about Rado? Are we giving everything away to the Empire just to avoid war?

I'm sure you will figure out what to do, he said.

Are you even listening? These are not simple problems. Now that I think about it, I don't see how I can be the next Governor and at the same time be Jeffrey's Honchessa.

If that's how you feel, then cancel the engagement.

She scowled. You know I can't do that. Jeffrey's better than his father, but he won't last long as Honcho if he comes back with nothing to show for the invasion.

I was wondering about that, said Xander. Why aren't you going back to Dallas with him?

I can't. Not until I know this new alliance will hold. If there's a coup and he's replaced I could end up being just a hostage. I can't do that to Mother.

No. So how long are you going to make him wait?

She sighed. I don't know. Have you heard anything from Lester?

Not since he left for Inverness. He must have reached his home town by now. I only hope he can find some potential students on his way back.

She changed the subject. Why are you holding your hands in your pockets like that? Are you cold?

No. I noticed that every time I wave my hand some worker stops what he's doing and asks what I need. But what I need is what they're already doing.

She exhaled. Well, when you do have students, I hope you keep them down here and away from my greenhouses. It took us a long time to get them set up.

He smiled. Look on the bright side. Someday you won't have to hunt me down when your glow-tubes need refreshing. If everything works out, you've have a whole school full of troubleshooters on the floors below you.

Aria tossed her head. Just make sure they stay away until I need them, she grumbled, and turned to leave.

After she was gone he pulled his hands out of his pockets and gazed at the blisters again. There was no longer any doubt about it. He'd tuned those everflames way too high when he tossed a handful into one of the Honcho's tanks. In a hurry, and thinking only of doing the most damage in the confined space of the tank's interior, he had pushed the weaving of tonespace around the handful of coins to the limit.

That hastiness had helped win the day. It had also earned him some second-degree burns. Radiation burns.

He thrust the hands back into his pockets. For all my skills, he thought, I still cannot do anything about healing.

He had read that one of the Gifts of the aliens had been something called a tissue regenerator. Like the other Gifts, it had caused upheaval and the collapse of competing human technologies. Antiseptics, antibiotics, and whole sections of the health-care industry had been destroyed by it. Unfortunately, it used a property of space he was not familiar with.

From the swizzle he had grown up with on the commune in Wyoming he had learned pathspace. The family's everflame had helped prepare him to learn the weaving of tonespace. And artifacts the General's men had located for him had