112 - On Your Orders, Naser

 The Amir tipped his head towards his Emir-al.  “On your orders, Naser.”

“Do proceed, Amir,” Raghnall said with no trace of irony, though his face showed it clearly, even over his veil.

“Before I start, might I be askin’ tah Milari zon... their trad powerful witches, provide us a bit heavier pr’tection ‘gainst data minin’ here?” Dukir gazed around at Ilax and the rest of his entourage.

“I can cline any hostile programs,” Werfas said diffidently.  “I might not be a strong mander but I can usually pull apart code with the best of them.”

Zon Maya laughed.  “Good for you!  You’re a hammer, boy.  Smash potentially hostile code for us then. I’ll set up a firewall after you.”

**

Nadian’s fingers tightened on the edge of his worktable.  The images were fragmentary and twisting vilely, shattered into a thousand thousand pieces as he got feeds from his surviving glass-bugs.

“Collate... compile!  Damn you to the Light.”  The images steadied and then shattered, but the sounds were random squeals of the bird running wild. Stone shearing, blood splashing... then somehow all signals cut off.  Some were black and silent though still sending, some sent back a final signal before vanishing from the surface of the clear stone table and he was left looking at the blackness behind his eyes.

There was a sound feed but it was full of howling wind and booming and hollow voices that refused to resolve into words.

He sent a reboot signal and got two images back.  His bugs had been far enough back to not be damaged by the endarkened Milari. 

Milari... How had the enlightened barbarians even gotten involved in this?  Have they been keeping Diryish’s heir hidden in that benighted country of theirs?  And if so, how old is he?  I’m seeing target deenay that looks full grown OR a child... bits of both?  My bugs were too simple to pass on an illness of anykind.  At this distance I have very little control.  All the way into Milar itself?  I haven’t been in the blasted country since the war, when I made sure of my place beside the old man, by seeming to save him from my own father, who was just not prepared if he’d succeeded!

But this one.  An Heir.  I’ve seen the broken fragment mirror that shows bits of Diryish’s face at all ages.

It can’t be Diryish.  It’s got to be this man... this boy... this child.  Endarken it!  I thought I’d KILLED you all!

It was so tiring.  It was so annoying.  He mustered enough strength to send a :reproduce: signal and got an acknowledgement.  He’d only be able to create a dozen or so bugs before he ran out of strength.  That should be enough to clarify this confusing barrage of information.

He had to eat and clean up before he had the strength to continue and when he returned to the peace and calm of his workroom he still only had two images... and audio.  The glassbug was at ground level so he had sight of a foot and heard “...irewall after you.”  There was rustling around and then... a wave of clinery sucked everything he had out of the bugs he had so laboriously created.  They collapsed into bits or froze into solid pieces as their source fuel was dragged out of them.

He was left with a single audiovisual feed, outside the ring of where Diryish’s agents and the Milari and this so-called Heir sat, talking about... whoever had tried to kill the boy.  Ah.  A boy.  Not a man?  Good, a boy would have less training and would be easier to eliminate.

The glow of the central fire was a bright point in the camp cavern but the bug was far enough away that it could only send raw light and dark images, more shadows and contrast, edges shimmering as they moved too fast for the insect's tiny processor.  He could discern human figures and tweeked at his bug to at send images so he could at least SEE male and female, and perhaps catch a glimpse of his new target.

But at that moment an older woman began singing and with a roar and a crackle a ring of fire ran around the whole group.  It was low, no more than a handspan of blue-white flames that were hot enough to fuse sand into glass around the group in a closed circle.  It even made any stray water, so close to the trickle they were camped by in this cave, overwhelm the audio feed with a hiss of steam.  The heat haze stood between him and them so all data came through in pieces broken up more than his own killing attempt this afternoon.

"### ass#### to #### M’ data hunted out ### His Radiance won’t be ha###" Then the heat caught up to his final bug and it melted away, far beyond his ability to recall.  He had no energy to start again this evening.

He cursed slowly, exhausted.  He needed to sleep before he tried again, but any other mandery attempts of his, in the city, had to stop so he could focus on this dangerous, endarkened, blood-drinking Heir!