Anything powerful enough to destroy it could seriously damage those nerves, and removing it would likely cause inflammation in the spinal cord, leading to temporary or permanent paralysis of the legs. But that physical danger, Galen suspected, was only a distraction from the real threat.
Just as Burell's tampering had been detected and stopped, so would this more radical interference. The Shadows would have set up some fail-safe to prevent a mage from removing his transceiver, some system that, if activity were detected, would either kill him or inactivate his tech permanently. The best evidence that such a failsafe existed was Elizar himself. If there was a way to bypass the nullification signal, then why hadn't the Shadows taught it to Elizar?
His tech had been deactivated, just like Galen's. The Circle, after hearing Galen's report of his experience on Thenothk, had agreed with his conclusion. Yet neither he nor they had been able to find this fail-safe. He wondered, now, if it even existed. Perhaps the Shadows had no fear that their control system would be discovered, and so had not planned for such an eventuality. In one thousand years of research, the Circle had not found it. He wouldn't have learned anything about the system either, without his connection to Anna.
Further, if the Shadows didn't completely trust Elizar, they may have withheld their secret from him. The only danger might be the medical one, which, though serious, could be risked. With Ing-Radi dead, their best healer was Gowen. He would be unwilling to perform any such procedure. Removing a piece of the tech would be, to him, an atrocity.
In fact, Galen could think of no mage with medical expertise who might be willing to undertake the task. He could not explain the true reason for his request, except to the Circle. As for them, Galen believed they would find the risk unacceptable. They seemed disposed to risk very little these days. A conventional surgeon, if highly skilled, could successfully perform the operation, but Galen could not go to a conventional surgeon, for that would violate secrecy, a part of the mage's Code. More important, he was trapped here.
If he would go through with it, he would have to do it himself. Which, of course, he had known since he'd begun this walk.. And which, of course, was why he continued to walk. Though he had studied physiology and medicine when he was younger, he was far from an expert. His talent, as he well knew, did not lie in healing. With his meager medical skills, the risks of paralysis or death were much greater. In the unlikely event he succeeded, the hidden fail-safe would probably kill him. Fa's image came to him then, as she'd looked when she'd first flashed into his mind's eye, tears running through the curly white wisps of her hair, shoulders hitching with short, broken breaths, eyes fixed on the ring, on him, in desperate hope. Shaken, he pushed his exercises ahead – the memory was not yet as securely buried as he'd believed – and turned his thoughts back down their narrow path.
Herazade had said that if he detected evidence that Elizar and Razeel were using the spell of destruction, he should tell the Circle. No number of deaths, though, would change their position. They would allow no one to leave, as long as there was any chance their location could be revealed. Did he have any choice but to try it? As he approached the entrance to the dining hall once again, he saw Fed leaning in the doorway, a mug in his hand. No laughter or voices came from within; the others must have retired for the night.
Fed wore a short red jacket and pants covered with elaborate golden embroidery. With his bushy beard and long, wiry hair, he always made Galen think of a pirate. While most of the mages seemed uncertain how to treat Galen, Fed behaved as if they were close friends, often attempting to engage him in conversation.
Galen knew that, aside from his reports to the Circle, he might go for weeks without talking if not for his occasional late-night encounters with Fed. Though he often resented the disturbance, tonight he felt relief.
"Federico."
"Galen. I was waiting to see if you'd make it around again. Wondered if you were going for a record."
Galen stopped, and the sharp scent of Fed's cologne wrapped around him.
"I was wondering the same about you." Fed laughed.
"When it comes to women, I dedicate myself to knowing all that can be known."
He took a drink.
"So have you come to any conclusions tonight?"
"A few," Fed put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.
"Purple. Seventy-two. Only on odd Wednesdays when I'm wearing the underwear with the red hearts."
"Uncanny, as usual" Galen hesitated.
He should return to his room, do what he needed to do. For once, he wished he had someone to confide in. He wished, more than anything, that he could talk to Elric. But he could not tell Elric, or anyone, what he was considering.
"I was sorry to hear about Soom." Galen nodded.
"You want to sit down and have a drink?"
"No, thank you." Still, Galen hesitated.
"You shouldn't blame yourself," Fed said, and Galen wondered how much Herazade had told her former apprentice.
"Bad things happen all the time, and you can't be responsible for all of them."
"You'd be surprised," Galen said, then regretted his words.
With the whisper of his black robe, Gowen came down the hall, his hands clasped before him. He kept himself scoured of all hair, which emphasized the roundness of his face. His cheeks were drawn up in dismay.
"Hey, Gowen," Fed said.
Gowen stopped before them with an uncertain glance at Galen. Since Galen's return from the rim, Gowen had become wary and distant around him. Gowen didn't understand his falling out with Elric, and Galen couldn't explain it. Gowen bowed.
"The blessing of Wierden upon you."
Galen returned the bow without repeating the words.
"I thought you guys were holding a vigil tonight," Fed said.
Gowen gazed back down the hall.
"Blaylock's hands were causing him distress. He relinquished the vigil to Miostro's care, and I left with him. I did what I could."
"Is the tech growing back at all?" Galen asked.
"No," Gowen said. "Most of the nerve and muscle damage has healed, but without the tech, the hands refuse to work as they used to."
"You've done all you can," Fed said.
Gowen looked up sharply.
"Are you saying I should abandon my efforts?"
"No, but at some point, you need to find your own life, something beyond serving as Blaylock's personal attendant."
Gowen's bare eyebrow ridges contracted in anger. "Like sleeping with a different woman every night?"
Fed's beard shifted with his smile, the insult passing by him with no effect.
"Speaking of which." He drained his mug, set it on a table inside the doorway. "This is where I say good night."
Galen had never yet seen him angry. He simply didn't seem to care enough about anything to become impassioned about it. Fed headed toward his room, leaving Galen with Gowen.
Gowen sighed.
"I lose my temper too easily. Solidarity, above all."
"You are worried about Blaylock."
"We all seem to be losing our tempers these days. I heard of three different fights since this morning."
Galen didn't know what to say.
"This place is too small for us."
Gowen looked him up and down, seeming to remember all that had come between them.
"I should go also."
Galen found himself wishing that he might talk to Gowen for a few minutes more. Perhaps he could get some sort of reassurance that what he planned to do would work out all right, without telling Gowen any of the specifics.
"I was wondering if I could speak with you about something," Galen said. "In confidence."
To his surprise, Gowen smiled.
"I would be happy to help, if I can. Of course I would keep your confidence."
"We could speak in my room," Galen said, and Gowen nodded.
Once they were inside the small room, Galen pulled the straight-backed chair from the desk and invited Gowen to sit. This delaying was pointless. He knew what he must do. Gowen looked around.
"I thought my room was neat. I wouldn't even know anyone lived here."
Galen's gray walls were bare, his bed neatly made, all his belongings secreted within the drawers of the dresser and desk, where they were methodically arranged. Everything was put away, and it remained so until he wanted to bring it out. He sat opposite Gowen on the bed, feeling self-conscious.
"I was hoping to get your opinion on a theoretical question. You know of my spell of destruction, of what it does – pinching off and crushing the material within a spherical area." Gowen nodded.
"I've been wondering whether it might be possible to use that spell as an operating tool within the body – for example, to remove a tumor, or some infected tissue."
Gowen's eyes widened and his lips parted, as if to blurt out some response. Of course he thought the idea insane, which it was. But he withheld his response, pausing a few moments before answering.
"I understood that the spell was very dangerous," he said, "commanding extremely high energies."
"It does," Galen said.
Gowen tapped his thick fingers against one another.
"The answer would depend on many things, as I'm sure you know. How precisely can you control the size and location of the sphere?"
"Fairly precisely."
"Fairly isn't good enough. You'd have to make sure the sphere didn't nick anything it shouldn't nick. If sections of blood vessels were removed, the ends would need to be sealed.
The other big question is what effects the spell would have on the surrounding tissue. I remember when you first cast the spell, in the training hall on Soom. It seemed to generate great distortions of space and time. I don't think I'd be comfortable having something with that magnitude of energy in my body, even if just for a moment. Not without a lot more testing.
"You could try it on tissue cultures, to start. Or molds or bacteria. They would give you a better sense of your accuracy and any gross side effects. Though that still wouldn't tell you the particular effects on more complex organisms."
Galen had considered doing tests on tissue cultures, but he feared losing control once he started conjuring the spell of destruction, as he had on Thenothk. Once that great rush of energy came down upon him, once the brilliant incandescence sang along the meridians of his tech, he didn't know if he'd be able to stop. If he was to cast the spell, he dared cast it only a single time.
Gowen was simply confirming what Galen had thought: The idea was very dangerous and he was not sufficiently prepared to execute it.
"Give me an example," Gowen said.
"How might one – theoretically – use this?"
Galen knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he continued.
"Imagine you had a tumor somewhere very hard to reach, such as in the spinal column."
He conjured a scan of his own spinal cord in the air between them.
"Say it was here, where this strand of tech ends, and just that size. And one wanted to remove it."
Gowen studied him.
"That is a difficult place to reach with conventional surgical methods. But not impossible. I would be worried, using your method, that bits of the surrounding nerves could be captured within your sphere, and those nerves severed. Even if you could assure that wouldn't happen, the nerves might be traumatized by the procedure and severely damaged. Repair might eventually be possible, but if it were me, I'd rather go with traditional procedures in the first place. The risks are lower and better understood."
Galen nodded.
He could ask no more, or he would reveal his intentions. The corners of Gowen's mouth turned slightly upward, giving him a pained expression.
"I know that you once wanted to be a healer, and I admire your attempt to turn something destructive into something constructive. That is to be commended. In this case, however, I think the risks outweigh the benefits. Traditional mage healing, or even current surgical procedures, can accomplish similar work I would only resort to such a technique if it was the only one available."
He fell silent then, his gaze returning to the image in the air between them. Galen could see him beginning to put the pieces together. With a distracting movement of his hand, Galen dissolved the image.
"Thank you for your help. I knew it was an unlikely thought. I just needed to hear that from someone else."
He stood, trying to bring the conversation to an end.
"I wish I could be more optimistic. I hope you don't give up the attempt to find positive uses for your spell. I know they must exist, for the tech is our special blessing, bequeathed to us by the Taratimude, and it is meant to lead us to good."
Gowen smiled, his face filling with expectation and hope.
"In tapping into the basic powers of the universe, the tech, by its very nature, carries potentials that are both extremely destructive and extremely constructive. It can be difficult to tell the difference sometimes. Once we attain a complete, spiritual union with the tech, the path will be revealed. In our enlightenment, we shall at last understand the will of the tech, and the will of the universe."
When Galen did not respond, Gowen stood as well, an awkward silence filling the cramped room.
"I'm sorry we have grown apart," Gowen said.
"I know there are things that happened on the rim, of which you cannot tell me. I wish I understood. Even without understanding, I count myself your friend. I know that, without your help, Blaylock would not have returned from Thenothk. For that I am forever grateful."
Galen looked down, remembering how little he had cared for Blaylock's safety then. Gowen gripped his arm, and Galen fought the urge to pull away.
"Please don't do anything rash. Or anything that might bring you to harm. Blaylock speaks very highly of you, though I think you may not know it. He actually believes, of all of us, you may be closest to the tech."
A harsh bitter laugh escaped Galen, and Gowen jumped, releasing him.
"That is a compliment," Gowen said.