Chapter 15

Admiral Glimorsky’s fleet made it safely back to Ramman.

A brass band greeted them ceremonially at the harbor, and bells rang throughout the city upon their arrival.

A royal procession carried the prince and Archer from the harbor to the palace, where King Panfred was waiting for them.

The king embraced Prince Glimorsky.

“Congratulations, my boy! A magnificent victory!”

Then the king approached Archer, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said:

“I’m deeply sorry about what happened to Sol. He died a hero.”

One of the king’s servants brought Archer the magic brush on a tray.

The Painter picked it up and tried painting a simple apple.

The apple materialized and dropped into his hand.

Everything was fine.

The brush worked.

The brush was his again.

But Archer caught himself thinking something remarkable:

Getting Sol back mattered more to him than getting the brush back.

King Panfred awarded Prince Glimorsky the Order of the Hero of Ramman.

Archer received the same decoration.

And so did Sol, posthumously.

Several days later, a parade was held through the city.

Every serviceman who had taken part in the military campaign marched in the ceremonial procession, along with the entire force of artificial workers.

Archer marched as well.

He led the formation of iron men.

When the celebrations were finally over and the artificial workers had returned to the A&S shipyard, Archer ordered them to assemble outside the main shipbuilding hall.

They formed neat ranks and waited for further instructions.

Archer climbed onto a crate so that everyone could see him.

Then he spoke loudly.

“My name is Archer.

“I am Sol’s companion.

“Sol—the one who gave you life.

“A week ago, Sol and I took part in military operations against our enemies.

“At a crucial moment in the battle, Sol sacrificed himself so that we could win.

“And we won.

“But we lost Sol.

“Now we don’t know whether Sol is alive. And if he is, we don’t know where he is.

“But I will do everything in my power to find him—alive or dead.

“Before he went to his death, Sol asked me to take care of you, the artificial workers.

“I promised him I would.

“So I want to ask you:

“What can I do for you?”

The workers remained silent.

Iron Worker Number One looked at the others.

When he saw that no one intended to speak, he answered through the speaker in his face.

“Archer, give us work.”

“All right,” Archer said. “You’ll build new ships, and you’ll train new cadets.

“But is there anything else I can do for you?

“Think about it.”

Once again, Archer was met with complete silence.

The machines said nothing.

They needed nothing.

“All right,” Archer said.

“Then we’ll work.”

Archer divided the artificial workers into two groups.

Three hundred would build new ships.

The remaining four hundred and thirty-two would train cadets at the Skyfaring Academy.

Archer himself returned to studying the catalog of technologies King Panfred had given him.

On his second day of studying the catalog, Prince Glimorsky arrived at the shipyard.

“Archer!” the prince greeted him energetically.

“Hello, Glimorsky.”

“I see you’re still grieving over Sol,” Glimorsky said.

“Yes,” Archer admitted. “I’m surprised myself by how much I miss him.”

“I’m not going to lecture you about coming to terms with loss,” Glimorsky said. “But Sol is actually why I’m here.

“I promised we would begin searching for him as soon as the war was over.

“Now it is.

“I’m no longer bound by my duties to the country and the Crown, and the Crown is prepared to make every effort to find your missing companion.

“Tell me what you need from us.”

“Thank you, Glimorsky,” Archer said. “Right now, I’m studying technologies from four thousand years ago, back when the people of the Four Crowns could do practically anything—even travel into space.

“I’m hoping to find something that can help us search for Sol.”

“Hmm...” Glimorsky thought for a moment. “Can your brush create machines from that era?”

“I’m not sure,” Archer said. “But it’s worth trying.”

“Then let me offer you the assistance of the Ramman Academy of Sciences. They should have extensive knowledge of ancient technology.

“I’m sure they’ll be able to suggest something.”

Archer nodded, thought for a moment, then said:

“Yes. All right.

“Thank you, Glimorsky.”

“Come on,” the admiral said. “My carriage will take us to the academy.”

They rode along cobblestone streets and through the bustling heart of the city.

Archer gazed out the window at the people passing by.

Ordinary strangers.

Residents going about their lives.

He imagined that every one of them had a life of their own—their own worries, their own dreams, their own joys and sorrows.

He compared life here in Ramman with life in the city of the Shod back in his own world.

And he thought that there was something worthwhile—something noble—about creating the conditions that allowed ordinary people simply to live their lives.

“Tasya is pregnant,” Glimorsky said.

Pulled from his thoughts, Archer took a moment to process what Glimorsky had just told him.

“The princess?”

“Yes.” The admiral smiled.

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Glimorsky said. “I want a son.

“A daughter would be wonderful too, of course.

“But a son... having a son would be something special.”

“Son or daughter,” Archer said, “that child will grow up in a better world.”

“Yes!” Glimorsky said. “I’ve been thinking the same thing!

“We made history with the aquameter. We brought water back to the world.

“This is a world where you don’t have to be afraid to have children.

“My son will grow up under completely different conditions than I did—or any of my ancestors.”

Glimorsky gazed thoughtfully out the window.

Then he looked at Archer.

“What about you, Archer? Don’t you want children?”

“No.” Archer smiled, slightly embarrassed. “The thought hasn’t even crossed my mind yet.”

“What about a partner?” the prince continued. “Maybe Anka?”

“No.” Archer laughed awkwardly. “Anka is my friend, first and foremost.”

“No rule says a friend can’t become a wife,” Glimorsky said. “Or that a wife can’t become a friend.”

“I don’t know,” Archer said. “I just don’t feel drawn in that direction.

“I’m more interested in building civilizations, creating things...

“And for now, I suppose that’s enough.”

The carriage pulled up in front of an architecturally elegant three-story building.

Several groups of scholars in robes and researchers in white coats stood outside.

The admiral and Archer entered the building and approached the information desk.

Glimorsky asked where they could find the dean.

They were given a floor and room number.

The two men climbed to the third floor, found the correct room, and quietly entered in the middle of a lecture.

Glimorsky pointed toward the lecturer.

“That’s Dean Marv Galsius,” he whispered to Archer. “The smartest man in Ramman.

“He knows everything there is to know about the ancient world and its lost technologies.

“And if there’s something he doesn’t know, he knows the scientists who do.”

The admiral and Archer took two empty seats at the back of the lecture hall and listened to the rest of Dean Galsius’s lecture.

Only when the lecture ended did Galsius notice the two men whose clothing set them apart from his students.

He looked more closely.

Then he recognized Prince Glimorsky.

Glimorsky raised a hand in greeting.

“My prince,” the dean said, gesturing for the students to leave. “You should have announced your visit. I would have rescheduled the lecture.”

“I didn’t want to inconvenience you, Dean,” Glimorsky said.

“Please, come down,” Galsius invited them. “Tell me what brings you here.”

Glimorsky and Archer made their way down to the lecturer.

“Marv Galsius, allow me to introduce Archer,” Glimorsky said.

“Ah! The famous Archer!” Galsius extended his hand. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

Archer shook the lecturer’s hand.

“How may I help you, gentlemen?” the dean asked.

“Archer and I are considering recreating certain technologies from the past,” Glimorsky said. “Specifically, we’re interested in search equipment.

“We need to search a particular area of the ocean floor and locate a specific object.”

“Interesting,” Galsius said.

He turned to Archer.

“You intend to... paint such a machine with your brush?”

“Yes,” Archer replied.

“Very interesting,” the dean said. “Well, let me think.

“Search equipment... underwater search... across an entire area of the ocean.

“Hmm...”

Galsius closed his eyes, lowered his head, and thought for about ten seconds.

Then he spoke.

“Yes. I believe I have a solution.

“But to give you a more useful recommendation, tell me exactly what you’re looking for.”

“An amulet attached to a human-shaped mannequin,” the admiral said. “The mannequin was wearing heavy iron armor and strapped into the navigator’s chair on the bridge of a frigate.

“The frigate exploded and broke apart.”

“I see,” Galsius said. “Is it possible the explosion tore the mannequin apart?”

“Possibly, but we don’t know for certain,” the admiral replied.

“All right. I understand,” the dean said.

Galsius walked over to the board, picked up a piece of chalk, and began drawing as he explained.

“We can recreate four separate technologies which, when used together, will allow us to search vast areas of the ocean floor in the shortest possible time.

“Technology number one: an underwater bathyscaphe.

“A two-person vessel with excellent visibility for its pilots. Highly maneuverable underwater and capable of descending to depths of up to sixteen thousand feet.

“Its batteries will have to be charged using electrical generators, and they’ll need to be recharged periodically. Unfortunately, this technology doesn’t run on blue coal.

“Next, technology number two: a beacon.

“A portable geolocation device.

“We place several beacons at different locations on the ocean floor, and their positions appear on the locator inside our bathyscaphe—on what is known as a mini-map.

“That will prevent us from becoming lost on the endless ocean floor.

“Now, technology number three: an ultrasonar.

“A small machine capable of sending sound signals through the water and receiving the returning signals—the echoes.

“We’ll mount this sonar device on our bathyscaphe and activate it regularly.

“It will consume battery power, but it will generate a three-dimensional image on the bathyscaphe’s locator.

“Unfortunately, there will be an enormous amount of information. Examining the entire three-dimensional map manually would take a great deal of time.

“Which is why we need technology number four:

“An onboard computer.

“A computing machine capable of processing large quantities of information and identifying objects specified in a search.

“The computer will help you determine from a distance what is a piece of shipwreck, what is a mannequin, and perhaps even what is an amulet.”

Galsius finished drawing the four devices on the board.

“I’d also like to add something,” the dean said. “Your undertaking fascinates me.

“May I ask your permission to be present when these technologies are created—and when they’re put to use?”

“That’s Archer’s decision,” Glimorsky said. “Archer?”

“I have no objection,” Archer replied. “Having the smartest man in Ramman with us certainly won’t hurt.”

“Excellent!” Galsius said. “Then give me twenty minutes to retrieve the precise blueprints for all four technologies from the archives.”

Bringing Galsius with them, Archer and Glimorsky returned to the A&S shipyard, where Archer had an endlessly replenishable supply of blue coal—and therefore an endless supply of charge for the brush.

Archer studied the blueprints for the two-person bathyscaphe, took the brush in his right hand, and began to paint.

He painted every external component of the machine, from the hemispherical glass canopy of the cockpit to the main thruster nozzles at the rear.

When he finished the drawing and made the final stroke, the brush shocked him.

Archer dropped it.

The drawing remained suspended in the air.

The bathyscaphe did not materialize.

Nothing happened.

The Painter picked the brush up from the floor.

He looked at it.

Then at the drawing of the bathyscaphe.

“I don’t understand.”

“Perhaps we should start with the other machines,” Galsius suggested. “Something less complicated.”

“Why not?” Archer said. “Which of the four technologies is the simplest?”

“The beacon, without question,” the scientist replied.

“Then let’s paint the beacon.”

Archer studied its blueprint, tried to hold the design clearly in his mind, and began to paint.

The beacon was a simple cylindrical device with its own long-lasting internal battery and an indicator light on top.

Archer finished the drawing in less than a minute.

The beacon materialized and dropped to the floor.

“Excellent!” Galsius exclaimed.

The scientist walked over, stood the beacon upright, and pressed a large button.

The indicator light came on.

“Everything seems to be working,” the scientist said. “Incredible!

“Four-thousand-year-old technology!”

“What’s next?” Archer asked.

“Right,” the scientist said. “The next step up in complexity would be the ultrasonar—the machine we’ll use to scan the ocean floor.”

With his left hand, Archer erased the contents of a container filled with blue coal, recharging the brush.

Then he studied the ultrasonar blueprints and began to paint.

The sonar unit was a medium-sized device, and it took him only two minutes to complete the drawing.

But once again, the brush refused to materialize the object.

It shocked Archer.

This time, he didn’t drop it.

He had been expecting the jolt.

“I don’t understand what you want from me,” he said irritably to the brush.

He walked around the drawing, examining it from every angle.

It matched the blueprint perfectly.

“What am I doing wrong?”

Archer touched the brush to the drawing and made another stroke across it, imagining the ultrasonar materializing before him.

The brush refused again.

Another electric shock struck him.

“I don’t care!” Archer shouted.

He kept trying to complete the device.

Kept trying to force it into reality.

The brush shocked him again.

And again.

Archer endured the pain.

And kept painting.

“May I suggest something?” Galsius interjected.

“What?” Archer asked.

“I have a theory,” the scientist said.

“I’m listening,” said the Painter.

“We know that the brush is clearly capable of creating objects from the past,” Galsius reasoned aloud. “Objects based on advanced technology—the beacon, for example.

“But the beacon is a relatively simple mechanism, while all the other machines we need are considerably more complex.

“However, there’s nothing preventing us from breaking one complex task into several simpler ones.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Archer said.

“What if, instead of trying to create the ultrasonar as a single complete machine, we divide it into smaller components? Individual parts?

“We create each part separately, then assemble them ourselves, by hand, without the brush.”

“That makes sense,” Archer said. “That’s how we built the flying ships.

“I painted the individual components, and then the artificial workers assembled them.”

“Exactly,” the scientist said.

“All right,” Archer agreed. “Let’s try it.”

Galsius picked up a pencil and divided the ultrasonar’s internal components into three roughly equal sections.

“Here,” Galsius said. “These are the internal components. Let’s start with this section.”

The Painter took the blueprint in his left hand, erased the complete ultrasonar he had drawn, and began copying the first section of internal components from the blueprint.

The brush obeyed.

The block of components materialized and dropped to the floor.

“Wonderful,” the scientist said. “Although please try not to let these components fall. They could be damaged.”

“All right,” Archer said.

Archer painted a thick layer of resilient, shock-absorbing material across the floor.

Then he recharged the brush by erasing more blue coal and began copying the second section of the ultrasonar from the blueprint.

Once again, the brush obeyed.

The second section of the device materialized and dropped safely onto the padded surface.

Then came the third section of internal components, followed by the outer casing that enclosed the entire device.

“Excellent,” the scientist said. “We understand the principle now.

“All that remains is to assemble the components.”

Archer placed the three sections beside one another and began examining their construction, trying to understand how they were supposed to fit together.

After five minutes, he concluded that they would need specialized tools—and, ideally, someone who knew how to assemble the device.

When he told Galsius, the scientist said:

“May I try?”

“Please do,” Archer said.

Galsius spent ten minutes examining the components and ended up disassembling the three sections into an even larger number of individual parts.

Then he reached the same conclusion Archer had.

“We need specialized tools and someone who knows how to assemble this.

“I know who we can ask, but I’ll need a couple of hours to bring the right people and equipment here.”

“Do it,” Archer said.

Glimorsky and Galsius left for the city.

Meanwhile, Archer began painting the individual components of the onboard computer and the underwater bathyscaphe.

It consumed a great deal of the brush’s charge.

Which meant it also consumed a great deal of blue coal.

At some point, Archer realized they might actually run out.

He went into the neighboring workshop, where the artificial workers were assembling another ship, and ordered them to replenish the supply of blue coal.

But before returning to his work, he stopped.

And thought.

He remembered Sol telling him about one of the artificial workers who had taught himself to play the xylophone.

These machines were capable of learning on their own.

Archer decided to make use of that ability.

“Attention!” Archer called out loudly.

Every worker stopped and turned toward him.

“I need a worker to assemble the components of a complex device.”

“Show me the task,” said one of the workers who was currently unoccupied.

“Come with me,” Archer said.

They returned to the neighboring workshop.

Archer showed Worker Number Eleven the ultrasonar blueprints and the components of the device.

Eleven studied the blueprint carefully.

Then he examined the components.

After about five minutes, he said:

“Specialized tools are required. The device cannot be assembled by hand.”

“Can you draw those tools for me?” Archer asked. “Could you sketch them on paper?”

“No,” the artificial worker replied. “Creating those tools requires technological knowledge that I do not possess.”

“All right,” Archer said. “You’re dismissed.”

The worker left the workshop.

Before long, Glimorsky and Galsius returned, accompanied by three engineers and several boxes filled with tools.

“Here,” Galsius said.

He opened one of the boxes and showed Archer a set of tools from a more technologically advanced age.

“Where did you get these?” Archer asked.

“From a museum,” the scientist said with a laugh. “Literally, from a museum.”

“These are four thousand years old?”

“Yes.”

“You think they’ll still work?”

“We’ll try them and find out,” Galsius said. “And these are three engineers I know. Two of them specialize in ancient technology.

“If they can’t assemble this device, no one can.

“Gentlemen, please.”

Galsius gestured toward the components of the ultrasonar.

The engineers began examining the parts, selecting tools, and trying to assemble the device.

It took them two hours.

But eventually, the ultrasonar was complete.

“How do we know if they assembled it correctly?” Archer asked.

“I’m afraid we won’t know until we connect it to the bathyscaphe and its power supply,” the scientist said. “I suggest we start assembling the next piece of technology.”

Another week passed before the three engineers managed to assemble the entire bathyscaphe and its onboard computer, connect both the computer and the ultrasonar to the vessel, charge its batteries, and figure out how to operate its controls.

They lowered the bathyscaphe into the water near Ramman and tested the ultrasonar.

It worked.

A three-dimensional image of the underwater terrain appeared on the locator screen.

Next, they placed a simple amulet in the water and scanned the area again.

They instructed the onboard computer to search for artificial objects.

The computer successfully identified the amulet on the three-dimensional map generated by the sonar.

Finally, they lowered the beacons into the water and activated them.

Their icons immediately appeared on the bathyscaphe’s locator.

For the final test, Archer and one of the engineers descended to a depth of three hundred feet, performed several simple maneuvers, and navigated their way back to the beacons—and to shore.

Everything worked.

Glimorsky had stashed a case of champagne in his carriage for precisely this occasion.

All six members of the project shared the champagne in celebration.

“What happens next?” Archer asked Glimorsky.

“Next, we load the bathyscaphe onto the deck of one of our frigates and sail to the approximate location of Sol’s crash,” the admiral replied. “We’ll bring a blue-coal-powered electrical generator and several tons of coal to recharge the bathyscaphe’s batteries.

“Once we arrive, we’ll lower the bathyscaphe into the water, place several beacons on the ocean floor, and begin the search.

“I assume you’ll want to pilot the bathyscaphe yourself?”

“Yes,” Archer replied.

“Then there’s only one question left,” Glimorsky said. “Who will be your copilot?”

“I think I can manage on my own,” Archer said. “Thank you, all of you, for your help.”

“And thank you, Archer,” Galsius said. “For scientists like my colleagues and me, recreating the technologies of our past is an extraordinary reward in itself.

“We’ve spent our entire lives studying these machines in theory. We’ve only ever seen them in pictures and museums.

“But you gave us the opportunity to experience something we thought was impossible.

“Your brush truly is magic!

“So thank you for allowing us to witness this miracle.”

Another week passed before the bathyscaphe was finally lowered into the water at the site of Sol’s crash.

Archer served as the vessel’s primary pilot.

For his copilot, he chose artificial Worker Number Eighty-Nine.

Together, they descended to the ocean floor, positioned the beacons, and began exploring the unknown underwater landscape.

“Eighty-Nine,” Archer said.

“Yes?”

“Play something.”

“Of course.”

Music began playing through Eighty-Nine’s speaker.

Archer piloted the bathyscaphe, scanned the ocean floor, studied the search results on the onboard computer, and listened to Eighty-Nine’s music.

Days passed.

Then weeks.

Archer encountered numerous shipwrecks and examined each of them carefully.

But there was no sign of Sol.

Once a day, Archer brought the bathyscaphe back to the surface to recharge its batteries.

While they charged, he spent time with the ship’s crew and with Glimorsky.

“Why are you here?” Archer asked Glimorsky one day. “You could have put any other officer in command of the rescue operation.”

“Because you, Archer, matter to our king,” the prince said. “And you matter to me.

“That means your problems are my problems. Your concerns are my concerns.

“Sol matters to you. I can see that.

“You won’t rest until you find him. And if you can’t rest, I can’t simply sit back and do nothing.

“Besides, you and Sol did the impossible when you rammed that frigate. You saved the Arrow. You saved her entire crew—including me.

“Without the two of you, the war against the coalition might have ended very differently.

“So, Archer, you’re a valuable ally.

“And I feel I owe it to you to help.”

Archer continued searching.

He continued listening to Eighty-Nine’s music, scanning the ocean floor, and finding the wreckage of ships that had taken part in the battle.

And then, one day, he found the wreckage he had been looking for.

The onboard computer identified the name of the ship:

Rimer Price.

The Painter’s heart began to race.

“We found it!” Archer exclaimed. “We found the right ship!”

Eighty-Nine stopped playing music.

Archer activated the ultrasonar again and again, revealing more and more wreckage on the locator.

He instructed the onboard computer to search for shipboard chairs.

It found dozens.

Then Archer told it to search for heavy iron armor.

The computer found a single object and highlighted it on the locator.

Archer magnified the image.

He saw the outline of Sol’s armor.

“Sol,” Eighty-Nine said, pointing at the screen.

“Yes, Eighty-Nine,” Archer said. “We found him.”

The bathyscaphe approached the iron armor and illuminated it with its lights.

Through the hemispherical glass canopy, Archer could see the familiar shape of his companion, pierced by twenty crossbow bolts.

But the armor did not reflect the bathyscaphe’s lights.

It was black.

Covered in soot.

Archer looked more closely at Sol’s head and face.

They, too, were black.

Charred.

The amulet was black as well.

“Sol... no,” Archer whispered, fearing the worst.

Archer took control of the mechanical arm mounted on the front of the bathyscaphe.

He moved its pincers toward the amulet—

and stopped.

The Painter was afraid of damaging it.

Instead, he carefully gripped the armor by the collar, lifted it from the ocean floor, and began moving backward.

Then Archer piloted the bathyscaphe back to the ship.

The bathyscaphe and Sol’s armor were hoisted aboard.

The entire crew gathered on deck with Glimorsky, waiting to hear what Archer would say.

Archer climbed out of the bathyscaphe.

He approached the armor.

And gently touched the amulet.

“Sol?”

The amulet opened its eyes.

But its face was distorted.

“Archer,” Sol said.

“Sol, how are you?” Archer asked.

“Archer... something is wrong with me,” Sol said. “It feels as though my mind is broken.

“I... I don’t know how to explain it.

“I’m broken.”

“But you’re alive,” Archer said.

“Archer, this isn’t life. It’s torment,” Sol said.

“Destroy me.”

“I can’t destroy you, Sol,” Archer said. “You’re my friend.”

“If you’re my friend, you’ll destroy me,” Sol replied.

“Sol, no. I’m sorry,” Archer said. “I can’t.

“But I promise you—we’ll find a solution.”

The amulet closed its eyes.

“Sol?” Archer said.

“Sol?

“Sol!”