However, there was one person they knew who seemed to have no problem understanding all of it.
“Hurry and drag these corpses out of here,” Heinrich ordered some of the knights as he pointed at the dead Imperium. “Our genius does not handle violence well.”
“He gets spun up real easy,” Sullivan explained as the magic connected. There was a flash of light as the pile of salt was fused into a solid mass. It floated off of the ground as a disk and rotated until the flat surface came to face him. No matter how many times he did that, the trick never got old. It was like looking through a window, and on the other side was Fuller’s laboratory on the Traveler.
“Mr. Sullivan! Right on time.” Buckminster Fuller pointed at the four wristwatches he was wearing on one arm. “I was assured you would be prompt in the execution of your duties!”
Cogs… Sullivan sighed. “We found it.”
“I am eager to see what you have for me!”
The view was remarkably clear. The strain on his Power wasn’t too bad. Schirmer did damn fine work. “Here you go, Fuller.” Sullivan allowed the communication spell to turn until Fuller had a view of the Chairman’s globe.
There was a moment of silence as the Cog took in the sight. Fuller’s Power was an odd one, even by the standards of the Grimnoir. He was the only man they knew of who could actually see the geometries of the Power, and even see how it connected to individual Actives. Others of their kind could only feel their own, and then they sort of messed around until they maybe figured out how to draw little bits of magic to bind onto things. For most of them, spellbinding was like blundering your way through a room full of sharp edges and pointy bits in the dark. Fuller was in the same room, but he had the lights on.
“Remarkable. Astounding. Phenomenal! Brilliant! It is spherical. You know how I feel about spheres!”
Fuller did have a thing for domes. “I guess that means you like it?”
All of the knights in the room had stopped their looting to come and see Fuller do his thing. It took a lot to get jaded Grimnoir riled up, but hell, Fuller could actually see magic. Who could blame them? Since Francis Stuyvesant had found the man last year, the Society had made huge strides in improving their spells. Fuller’s weird, super-magical brain had become a bit of a legend in Grimnoir circles.
“Like it? I love it. They may be ruthless in the extreme, but the Chairman’s Cogs create items of such mastery, such flawless elegance. One must wonder how individuals capable of such savage mutilations can, on the other hand, create such a work of art. It would seem that such diametrically opposed features would be mutually exclusive. I can see why they needed to place this near the poles. The omnimultiple directionality of the Power manipulations alone are— ”
Sullivan had already learned to stop Fuller before he could get on a roll with the big made-up words. Long rambling dissertations on magic could wait for a time when they weren’t holed up in an Imperium base with a bunch of fanatics who were sure to try and banzai charge their way out any minute. “Sorta on a deadline, Fuller.”
“My apologies, Mr. Sullivan, but I do occasionally succumb to my enthusiasm. The map is obviously a measurement device displaying the natural life-cycle processes of the symbiotic parasite, in other words, the relationship between the Power and the host, i.e., mankind.”
Most of the knights seemed bewildered by this, but Sullivan understood what Fuller was saying. The globe was producing its own light, which was far brighter in the areas of the world that had the most population. That made sense, because that was where the most Actives would be dying. He wondered idly just how bright France had burned on this thing during Second Somme.
“When an Active passes away, their now grown and developed magic returns to the Power. That is how it feeds and expands. This device is simply displaying a macroview of that process. It is rather brilliant in its simplicity. It would detect and then provide the location of any subversion… I will call it a detectlocator.”
Sullivan rubbed his face in his hands. At least it was only two words this time. Captain Southunder had vetoed Fuller installing anything with more than ten syllables in its name onto the Traveler.
“The detectlocator is monitoring this flow of energy, watching for anomalies. Gaps. Blank spots, a place where the natural order appears to have been suborned. Places where magic is no longer flowing as it should. It would be like watching a water system and discovering that a river was suddenly flowing uphill.” Fuller scowled. “However, this particular design is flawed. It is broken.”
Sullivan looked over the complex kanji. It was truly the most advanced magical device he had ever seen. It was far over his head, and he’d even managed to engrave spells onto his own body successfully. How would it be to be able to see the world like Fuller? “Can you make it work?”
“I believe so. You will need to follow my instructions exactly, but we should be able to manipulate it to perform as designed.” Fuller’s brow furrowed as he looked over the kanji. “I can tell what they were attempting to do… This symbolical representation is a real-time display of the flow of magic from its hosts back to the Power and vice versa. It lacks refinement. It lacks true accuracy, but would at least point you to the correct region, which is enough for your intent. It should work, but this is flawed. This makes no sense. I do not understand what has been done here. The initial design would have worked, but there are more recent modifications that have subverted the parameters.”
Sullivan scowled. “Recent?”
“These clever kanji were changed within the last year. I believe that this detectlocator of the Chairman’s has been sabotaged.”
Toru did not have to wait long. He’d held no doubt that such a brazen move would attract the ire of the imposter. The man that next appeared in the mirror looked like the Chairman, moved like the Chairman, even sounded like the real Chairman, but he was certainly not the Chairman. “Traitor! What is the meaning of this?”
“Who are you?” Toru demanded.
“You dare to question me?”
“I do. The real Chairman is dead.”
“Silence, treasonous dog! I am Baron Okubo Tokugawa, Chairman of the Imperial Council and chief advisor to the Emperor. I am—”
“Spare me your lies. You are not my father, Okubo Tokugawa. You are an imposter.” Toru pointed two fingers at his temple. “The memories of Ambassador Hattori belong to me now. He realized the truth before he died, and now that truth is mine.”
“Hattori was a fool,” the imposter spat. “You are the even bigger fool to have believed him. You were always naïve, Toru. Your cowardice was an embarrassment to my name in Manchuria and your continued existence is an insult to the Iron Guard.”
It took all of Toru’s restraint to not smash the mirror. “I did not summon you to trade barbs, imposter. It does not matter who you really are, for the Enemy has returned,” he said through gritted teeth. “A Pathfinder is coming. The ghost of the real Okubo Tokugawa has confirmed this. The dishonor you bring upon my family pales in comparison to this danger. Continue your charade and I will not expose your lies, but you must alert the Iron Guard to its presence.”
The imposter glanced about the court. “Leave me,” he ordered some unseen functionary.
“You may rule the Imperium. Only I know the truth, but my father’s final command was not to see to the Imperium’s fate or to overthrow you. It was to stop the Pathfinder.” Toru struggled to keep the emotion from his words as he continued his plea. “Anything else is irrelevant. Keep your stolen throne, but for the love of the Imperium and all it stands for, you must warn the Iron Guard. Let them fulfill their destiny. Send them to hunt the beast. I implore you. Do not destroy the dream of Dark Ocean.”