~*~
Milton felt happy to comply. General Sevritas made him nervous. The military officer had kept his sword drawn while his men went about tying their prisoners, and his method of checking to see if an orc was unconscious was to kick it. The general had seemed disappointed that none had responded with anything more threatening than a weak groan.
The apprentice mage followed the Peacekeepers up the inclined ramp and into their amazing sky ship. The Peacekeeper commander asked him again to remove his shoes, which he readily did. It was a small consideration for another opportunity to visit the ship, which despite all appearances, they insisted was not magical. He didn't believe them. Magic users were notoriously secretive about their methods and discoveries in order to keep them from potential rivals. He believed the Peacekeepers were being honest with him, for the most part, but they were obviously keeping some secrets, especially about their strange form of magic.
Brax headed in one direction and Lisa led the rest of them the opposite way into the ship's small kitchen, which looked nothing like any kitchen Milton had seen before. They said the room was for food preparation and called it the ship's galley, but there was no fireplace, no oven, no water pump…all it contained was a small table, some chairs, and odd cabinets and cubbies along the walls, some with tiny magical lights or dark panels. They also seemed to use it for a meeting room, and, he noticed, possibly a treasure room. Gold and silver coins spilled from bags heaped casually in one corner. Other items rested on top, including an ornate sword, which he suspected might be magically enhanced.
Commander Chang pointed to a simple chair, made of metal tubes and something like stiff leather, and told him to sit. The tiny table it was at held nothing but a bound book without a title.
"Where did Brax go?" Milton asked.
Of all the Peacekeepers, their fighter was the one he felt he understood best. He seemed the most like normal people. The others were strange and foreign.
"He's piloting the ship," Lisa said. "Sims could do it, but regulations require a human pilot on ships with passengers when it's flying in atmosphere."
Milton understood about half of the short sentence, but it was an exciting half. "You mean we're going to fly now?"
"Just back to the city. Nothing to be concerned about."
He wasn't concerned, exactly, but flying was rare, something only the most potent magicians even attempted, often catastrophically and sometimes quite messily. He never expected he would ever do it. "Is there a window? I mean, can I watch?"
"There are no windows, but I can have the screen in here display an outside view, if you'd like."
He nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed at how naïve he must appear to them, but this would probably be the only time in his life that he would have an experience like this. He was willing to sacrifice a bit of dignity to make the most of it.
"Screen on," she commanded aloud. "Exterior forward view."
A panel in the wall about the length of his arm suddenly went from being featureless black to something that looked to him very much like a window opening out on the familiar scene below them. It was the one he just left, full of captured orcs and city soldiers, although from a higher perspective. He saw General Sevritas with his back turned to the ship, gesturing and yelling orders to his men.
"That's not a window?"
"No."
"It's more like a crystal ball then, but flat, right?"
"You can think of it that way, I suppose."
He did, and it helped—until he remembered that Doc had insisted that no magic was involved in any of this. If it wasn't a window and it wasn't magic, what was it? Perhaps they just wanted him to think it wasn't magic so he wouldn't try to duplicate it, not that he thought he had much chance of that.
The ship shuddered. The pervasive hum that seemed to permeate the ship shifted to a higher pitch. He felt oddly heavier for a moment, and in the window that was not a window, the scene changed. Loose grass and leaves swirled below them as the ship gently rose into the air and accelerated. They were moving faster, and much smoother, than a galloping horse within seconds.
"We'll be back to the city in a few minutes," Chang said, forcing his attention from the screen. "There are things we need to discuss now. Doc thinks we can help you."
"But you already have," Milton said. "You killed the mind flayer and stopped the orcs."
"Yes, but, well, it's about your city."
"It's impressive, isn't it?" Milton said with some pride. He had never been to another, but he felt sure Bardasium, with its thousands of people and impressive walls and buildings, must be one of the greatest cities in existence.
"It's certainly…memorable, but it is a bit smelly."
Milton did not know what point she was trying to make, but he felt sure she wasn't talking about people cooking.
"It's the condition of the streets," Doc said.
"They stink, Milton," Sandra added.
"Well," Milton said, still not sure what they were implying, "that's because there are so many people. That's what makes it a city."
The ship around them lurched, and he looked up at the screen to see they were now motionless outside the city walls.
"We're back already?"
"Yes, but it's not time for you to leave yet," Commander Chang told him. "Like I said, we think we can help you."
He tried tying the ends of their recent comments together to get some idea about the thread of their meaning. "Is it about cleaning the streets?"
"Partly," Doc said. "Have you ever heard of something called a sewer system?" He pushed the book resting on the table toward him. "Open it."
Milton did, leafing carefully through the high quality paper pages, which held drawings, formulas, and small sections of text, most of which he found incomprehensible at first glance. It was like a tome of a completely unfamiliar form of magic—a kind of alchemy, perhaps.
"Sims and I worked these up based on our scans of your city," Doc said. "They're plans for an underground sewer system that will help you keep your streets…less cluttered, fresher, and healthier. It contains information on everything you should need, given your current level of technology. At the end, there are diagrams and detailed descriptions of the various components."
Milton poured through the pages, flipping back and forth between illustrations. He understood some of it, enough to know it would be a massive undertaking, and, if it worked, a wonderful thing to have. It would be nice not to have to be so careful about what he stepped in outside, not to mention what he and others tracked inside. It was an amazing idea, and he thought it might work, except for one rather large problem.
"But who would build it? Where would we get the workers and the money?"
"We have an idea for that, too," Doc said, pausing for a significant look over his dark eyebrows. "Would you say that Gorbo is a good worker?"
Milton could see where this conversation was heading immediately, and it was a dead end. "Wait! Are you saying we have the orcs build this? People would never go for it. Orcs are dangerous, or at best vermin."
"Is Gorbo vermin?"
A picture of Gorbo making butter cookies immediately popped into his mind. In this brief fantasy, Mari stood next him, wearing a sheer apron and not much of anything else while she stirred a bowl of batter. He reluctantly dispelled the image and tried to focus on the question.
"Well, no, but that's how people see them, especially now after the attacks."
"There must be some way to change their minds, but the only one you really need to convince is your king, right?"
"Wait!—What?—Who?—Me?—Why Me?"
"Because you are the city's resident expert on orcs, of course. We thought you could be in charge of the project."
"I'm an apprentice," he said with all due emphasis on the final word. "I can't be in charge of anything. The senior mages would never allow it."
"So tell them we said they should be in charge of it," Sandra said. "It doesn't really matter. Tell them
we're giving them a great unskilled workforce of cheap labor that isn't going to complain about pay, working conditions, promotions, or benefit packages. I know a lot of businesspeople back home who would love an opportunity like this."
Milton pondered that a moment. It was true. Gorbo never complained about anything, and he seemed to enjoy tedious work. As far as Milton could remember, the orc never considered a job so grubby he balked at doing it. If the orcs were properly supervised, he felt sure they could do the physical labor something like this required. But that would not be enough.
"What about funding? There will be materials to buy, and the orcs will need to be housed and fed. That will cost money."
"Back home, something like this would be funded by the government as a civic improvement project," Lisa said. "Wouldn't the king be willing to pay for it? Surely, he'll see the benefit. I've only been here a little while, and it's pretty obvious to me."
"I doubt it. These plans cover the whole city, and I'm sure he doesn't see that as his problem. He doesn't walk those streets or shop at the markets. He's got people for that."
"You could start the project with his palace," Doc suggested.
Milton shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe. But it would be terribly disruptive, I should think. It's a big risk to whoever is in charge."
"Why is that?" Lisa asked.
Her innocent question implied a great deal of misunderstanding about the realities of life. It was clearer than ever to Milton that she was definitely not from around here.
"If it works, the king might give those in charge some kind of boon, like a title, or property, or something. But if it doesn't, or if it takes too long, he'll pay them in a different way, if you see what I mean. No one tries to change anything in a big way that the king, or anyone else with power, is likely to notice—or worse, object to—unless they are very sure of themselves."
"Medieval thinking," Doc said. "It's part of the reason humanity didn't begin making rapid technological progress until the sixteenth century." He directed his comment to Commander Chang. Milton did not understand what he meant.
"Don't get me wrong," Milton said. "I mean, I think it's a great idea, but it needs approval from the king, and I can't see anyone presenting it to him. It's too big, too…ambitious."
"It could also be very profitable," Sandra said. "Once this is built—oh, say at the king's palace at first—everyone will want their homes and businesses to have it. Think about it. No more smelly chamber pots. No more cold morning walks to the outhouse. And that's in addition to making it safe—well, less messy—to walk the streets. I would imagine that the people overseeing this will become quite wealthy, certainly wealthy enough to make a good catch for any father's daughter."
This prompted Milton's imagination some more, and ideas began to form that were more resistant to risk.
"Rich?" he said. Magicians were seldom rich, but this sounded like a business, and businessmen often were.
"And well respected, I should imagine," Sandra added.
"The king would still have to approve it."
"The king would have to want it, I think. That's a sales job."
More ideas buzzed through his head, working overtime now with thoughts of Mari providing incentive. If he presented the idea to Ferman as a way for mages to regain prestige and income, and if he could convince him how useful orcs could be with Gorbo as an example, and if…well, he would need to get creative, but he might be able to do it. Then Ferman could take the idea to the Guild of Magicians to ensure their support…
"Are you still with us, Milton?" Sandra asked.
"Oh, yes. I was just thinking. This might take a while, but I can start with Ferman. He may want to meet with you, I imagine, before he goes to the Guild. I think he'll be interested, but…"
"But what?"
"What if he's not? What will happen to the orcs?"
Commander Chang looked at Doc, who looked at Sandra, who looked back at the commander, who looked lost for a reply.
After a moment, Doc said, "We'll carry them somewhere and release them. But if that happens, the orcs will remain monsters, your streets will remain filthy, and nothing will improve for them, for you, or for your city. You see, it's not all about helping you. The orcs may benefit most. I think one reason they are so easily swayed by things like the mind flayer is that they have no productive purpose. This could give them one, and I think they'll be happier for it. No one expects them to be anything more than monsters, now. Not even them. So that's all they are. But I think they can be something else if you give them a reason to be. I know this probably will not matter to the people you need to talk to, but I think it matters to you."
Milton knew that Gorbo was happiest when he was busy, and he kept himself busy when Milton wasn't around with cleaning and gardening. He also liked puzzles, although he wasn't very good at them. If the magicians went for the Peacekeeper's idea, he'd have to think about things like hobbies and distractions for the orcs, but first things first.
"What about funding?"
Commander Chang glanced at the pile of treasure in the corner. "We may be able to provide enough to get it started."
"With that treasure, you could probably fund the entire thing and more, I should think," Milton said.