“Well,” she responded reasonably enough, “what about this gun?” She pointed at the rifle Jasak had tried to fire. “With this ammunition?”
“That combination would yield about forty thousand pounds per square inch of pressure inside the cartridge case and the rifle’s chamber. That kind of pressure would propel a bullet of this size, shape, and weight at a bit over two thousand feet per second at the muzzle. The speed drops, of course, once it leaves the gun, but it’s still moving fast enough to kill a man a mile or more away.”
Sogbourne stared at him, his horror at the weapon’s power once again clearly evident. “No wonder those accursed things blow flesh apart!”
“Yes,” Gadrial said, but she was frowning thoughtfully. “But if this is merely a physical process, a simple burning of natural compounds that works in your universe, but not in ours, we need to find out why it doesn’t work here. It may be that some step in the manufacturing process used to make these cartridges renders them inoperable here, although I can’t imagine what that might be.”
“Neither can I,” Jathmar agreed.
“I find it interesting that your Talents don’t work as well here and your weapons apparently don’t work at all. It’s odd…very odd.…”
Her voice trailed off, and then a sudden flare of inspiration lit her eyes. She met Sogbourne’s gaze. “I want Jathmar to try shooting the rifle.”
“What use would that be?” Sogbourne asked sharply. “And I still don’t want a prisoner to handle a weapon.”
“If it doesn’t function in our universe,” Gadrial said in a patient, reasonable tone, “there’s no risk in letting him hold it. It wouldn’t be anything more dangerous than a simple wooden stick. Speaking as a scientist, Twenty Thousand Sogbourne, I want as complete a dataset as possible. Right now we have only one set of data to work with: the priming compound doesn’t ignite the powder, or it doesn’t ignite the powder because Jasak Olderhan is operating the rifle.”
Sogbourne stared at her as though she’d taken leave of her senses. So did Jathmar. Even Shaylar was astonished. He could feel it even through their malfunctioning marriage bond.
“Frankly, Sir,” Gadrial went on, raking one hand through her hair, which promptly rearranged itself into the sleek coif she’d laid a spell to create this morning, “that’s seriously insufficient data. Scientific research demands that we find a way to prove that something will work. We already know this weapon works under some conditions. What we need to know is how to make it work under our conditions. That’s the basis of good magisterial science.”
Jathmar blinked in surprise. “Your science is based proving something can work, instead of looking for conditions that prove it doesn’t?”
Gadrial blinked in turn. “Your scientists look for ways to prove a theory doesn’t work? How in the world do you ever manage to invent anything?”
“I don’t mean inventing technology,” Jathmar tried to explain. “I mean coming up with ways to explain how the universes work. You start with a hypothesis, an idea. You test it every conceivable way to see if any of those conditions cause the idea to fail. If it fails, your hypothesis was wrong. Only after multiple people have tested it in many different ways, over a long period of time, does everyone assume it’s true, that it’s an accurate description of how the universes work.
“But it’s still considered only a theory. If any new data come to light that causes the idea or even part of the idea to fail, then the theory has to be revised or eliminated and replaced with a new theory that includes the new discovery. Then that new idea is tested again and again before it’s assumed to be valid.”
Gadrial looked stunned. “That’s…my God, Jathmar, that’s backwards, totally opposite of the way magisters approach scientific research-”
“I fail to see the need to discuss this nonsense,” Sogbourne growled. “We’re here to demonstrate Sharonian battlefield equipment, not develop new explanations of science! We don’t have time to waste on folderol and curiosities of the magisterial mind!”
Gadrial’s eyes glinted. “Oh, really? Then you’d better resign yourself to losing this war.”
“Why?” Sogbourne demanded.
“Because this,” she pointed at the malfunctioning rifle, “is the greatest scientific mystery to come along in two centuries. Their Talents don’t work properly in our core universes. Their military technology doesn’t work properly here, either. If their technology doesn’t work in our universes, it’s logical to assume our technology won’t work in theirs.”
Sogbourne swallowed hard. “Oh, dear gods…”
“Yes. This isn’t some mere ‘curiosity of the magisterial mind.’ It’s a matter of Arcana’s survival if we can’t find some way out of this shooting war with Sharona. This,” she touched the rifle, “is simply an object. It either works or it doesn’t work. It worked in the battle of Toppled Timber, in a pristine universe. It worked on the way back to Arcana, when Jasak and Otwal Threbuch and I fired them at targets made of paper. But it doesn’t work now. To find out why it doesn’t, we have to start testing it under as wide a variety of variables as possible, to see if we can find a condition under which it does work. The most obvious variable is also the easiest and fastest to test. Jathmar’s people built this object. Jathmar’s used it many times, and so has Shaylar. Let one of them operate it and see what does-or doesn’t-happen.”
Sogbourne frowned. “I don’t like it,” he muttered. “You don’t hand a prisoner a weapon.”
“There are enough armed soldiers here to turn Jathmar into a crisped pincushion if he tries to attack one of us. Are you planning to stand there quoting regulations or do you intend to try winning this war?”
“Magister Gadrial-” Sogbourne glowered at her. “You’re obviously going to be as great a pain in the arse as Magister Halathyn ever was. Maybe greater. Oh, all right, I withdraw my veto. Conduct your research. I just hope to hell you know what you’re doing.”
“I haven’t a clue,” she said brightly, “But I mean well. And I guarantee I’ll know more in just a few moments.” She rested a hand on Sogbourne’s arm and said more seriously, “You have your duty to Arcana, Sir, and I have mine. You may trust that I’ll take that duty very seriously, indeed.”
He sighed and nodded. “Very well, let him proceed.”
“Thank you, Commander.” She turned to Jathmar. “All right, Jathmar. Let’s find out what happens.”
Jathmar turned to Jasak. “Will you go with me to the firing line, please? I’d like someone from Arcana to observe closely what I do. I don’t want anyone to doubt my actions-or my intentions.”
The request caught even Jasak by surprise, but the hundred’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Of course, Jathmar. That’s a very accommodating request. In fact, I’d like to ask an officer of the court to accompany us to the firing line, if you don’t mind?”
“That’s a good suggestion,” Jathmar nodded.
Sogbourne stepped forward briskly. “Let’s go,” he said, eying Jathmar with curious speculation.
Jathmar pulled ammunition from several boxes, as he’d asked Jasak to do, then loaded carefully. “Very well, gentlemen, shall we see what happens when I try to fire it?”
Sogbourne nodded.
Jathmar lifted the rifle with care, moving slowly enough to keep the suspicious guards satisfied that he wasn’t going to shoot any of the officers or ministers of Parliament. He sighted carefully, acquired the x-ring on the paper target, and squeezed gently on the trigger. He wasn’t entirely certain what to expect, having witnessed that inexplicable series of misfires.
So he squeezed gently down on the trigger, taking up the slight amount of slack, waiting for the crisp snap as carefully machined inner parts sent the firing pin forward through the breechface, into the primer.