“Rolls that add up to four or multiples of four are bad news, boss,” the new clone said. Playing with a pair of black metallic dice. Gold studs planted on all the sides served as the number markers. “Don’t ask me why. You probably read somewhere that in some cultures, four is a bad omen or something of the sort. And the dice have decided they’re bad news.”
“And your instincts tell you that?” Lukas asked, taking notes. He recalled a summer trip to China following his first year at university. During it, he had learned that culturally, the number four represented misfortune. Lukas had never followed up or studied the reason or validity of the statement. Now he wondered whether Chinese mythos also had influence on Fracture, adding to the world’s Arcane Laws. Or, Intent and memories affected how shard abilities manifested.
The clone nodded. “It’s weird. Things and concepts radiate good and bad vibes, telling me what will turn out well for me and what won’t. It's stronger with the dice.”
“1,3
2,2
2,6
3,1
3,5
4,4
5,3
6,2
6,6”
“That’s nine possible combinations out of thirty-six, which are potentially bad, and 27 which are good.”
“Excellent or neutral,” the clone corrected.
“What do you mean by neutral?” Lukas frowned. “A neutral roll won’t do anything?”
The clone shrugged. “I can’t be sure without testing, boss. It’s a weapon. Bad rolls, it will fail, sometimes spectacularly, harming me. Neutral rolls it will do as intended. Excellent rolls will be a spectacular success. My instincts tell me that’s snake eyes and rolls that add up to seven.”
“1,1
1,6
2,5
3,4
4,3
5,2
6,1”
“Seven possible excellent rolls. This is interesting, to say the least. Get testing.” Lukas raised a hand when the clone faced the metal sheet-covered wall in the workshop and started shaking the dice in his cupped right hand. “Not here, idiot, especially when we don’t know how poorly things can turn out. Go across the river. Far from the city. Keep testing and practising until you die or run out of magic.”
“What about the luck-stealing and burning sides of my magic? Don’t you want me testing those too, boss?”
“I do, but later. Maybe we’ll start in one of the small underground gambling dens in the mining district. I can’t field you in combat until we understand that weapon of yours.”
“Got it.”
Lukas returned his attention to the spellscript in front of him. He wanted a lingering Shadowfire spell infused with fear to use with Spellweaver’s new warding feature. It was likely to pair brilliantly with Shadow Illusion, which he had a couple of mage clones practising around the clock. Since it was part of a shard ability and not a spell, the spindle couldn’t create them. However, it had no issue turning simple spells into wards.
Maybe Stitch can use abilities that are inherent parts of Spellweaver, but not conjunction abilities? Or his skill level needs to improve.
The familiar worked tirelessly, weaving until it ran out of thread. Then, it hung around slowly regenerating them. Lukas could dispel and resummon it, restoring magical stores, but it cost him dearly, consuming an eighth of his maximum stores. On the bright side, Stitch’s speed had improved significantly over the past few days. He was almost as fast as Lukas with shadow spells and not far behind with the rest.
They already had simple sound and lightning traps to work with. They were immediate-discharge spells, using modified touch-magic scripts. It was enough for the time being, but Lukas hoped to develop something more complicated. Lingering effects of either attunement were bound to debilitate anyone stuck within. Power could be altered to also make them lethal.
“I think if we use my luck during the finishing process, we could come out with a much better result,” a clone said, breaking Lukas’s focus. The voice dripped with unwarranted levels of confidence and enthusiasm. He turned around to find the Fortune’s Favor clone hovering around Eins and Zwei as the pair worked on the opposite end of the workshop. “Letting me be part of the process should be enough. My magic is amazing. I promise.”
“Why are you still here?” Lukas asked. “You have your instructions.”
“You didn’t give me a name, boss.” The clone grinned, leaning against the wall. He flicked a dice as if he were tossing a coin and snatched it out of the air when it fell. “You can’t expect one of us super special clones to function without a name. It's tied directly to productivity, don’t you know?” He paused, glancing at the two crafting clones. The clone snatched a furry skullcap off the nearby surface, pulled it on, and checked his reflection on a polished metal helmet. He grimaced before removing it. “And it better not be Drei.”
“Fine.” Lukas sighed. “Gambit would be too on the nose. Fluke is too close to Flukas.. How about Whale?” The clone grimaced. “Or Fish. Like Big Fish, but we can spell it with a Y so you feel special.”
“That’s cruel, boss,” Eins stated, looking up from the hammer head he was working on. “And mean.”
“Please don’t call me Fysh,” the clone begged. Another nearby hat caught his attention. “Ooo, that might be nice.” He skipped over and tried on the ear-covering trapper crap. The clone crinkled his nose after checking his reflection. “Unfortunate. But no. Please not Fysh.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Or do.” Zwei laughed. “It’s hilarious.” He nudged the clone. “You okay, Fysh?”
“Don’t do this to me, boss. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“How about Lucky?” Eins asked.
“How about you limit your creativity to metalwork?” Zwei rolled his eyes dramatically. “It doesn’t shine anywhere else.”
“What do you want to be called?” Lukas crossed his arms, staring down the clone. He had started off annoyed, but the banter now amused him.
“How about Jack? It’s got a bit of danger to it. I could find girls named Rose to charm—”
“I like the card theme, but not Jack,” Lukas interrupted, leaning back in his chair until it stood only on its back two legs. “Since I might send you into gambling dens and casinos from time to time, we’ll go with Ace.”
“That’s creative, boss.” Zwei’s words dripped with sarcasm. His attention returned to the in-development enchantment script.
“It’s cool,” Ace said, beaming. He looked down his nose at Zwei. “Call me anything else and I’ll throw my dice at you, Number Two. Good roll or bad—”
“If that’s settled, can you please fuck off?” Lukas interrupted.
“On it.” Ace pranced out of the workshop, flamboyantly waving at the others and saluting Lukas.
He’s going to be a nuisance. I can feel it. Why the fuck do these morons have to have personalities and quirks?