Amdirlain’s PoV - Material Plane - Qil Tris
The door with the sign for the sound booths let her into a corridor with doors marked to indicate three sound booths, the lavatories, and a flight of stairs to the roof. Letting herself into the first booth, Amdirlain found the area split into two sections, similar to a recording studio in miniature. Despite the soundproof panelling, it was still lit with the same soft white illumination she’d seen elsewhere. Amdirlain examined the sound technician's enchantments and entered the performer's chamber. Scanning the walls with True Sight, she compared the information it provided on the enchantments to Resonance.
Having confirmed nothing was being recorded, Amdirlain pulled a stool out from the wall and perched on it. Setting the new harp case on another chair, she strung and tuned the harp while she sent another update to Livia, advising the situation with the Gods’ Grave.
Listening to the distortion within the campus, Amdirlain stretched towards the alien presence. Trying to isolate details of its location with Resonance resulted in her being rebuffed.
As she pushed Resonance to show her more, she worked through each note of the new instrument to familiarise herself with its octave range. An hour into her training, Amdirlain finally caught the songs of new individuals entering the store.
She ignored Jal’krin talking to the manager and an older Catfolk. Finally, the older Catfolk came to sit in the technician area; Amdirlain paused when a speaker overhead buzzed. “I’ve got an idiot nephew out front that says you can dig him out of a hole he jumped in. How likely do you think that is?”
Amdirlain sat up straight and took in the similarity of his tortoiseshell fur and grey eyes. “He didn’t mention the manager was a relative. It depends if Jal’krin can stop making stupid bets and follow instructions.”
“I’m not the manager, I’m the owner. Pal’tran of the Silverstring Pride. Would you sing something for me?” asked Pal’tran.
Amdirlain rested the harp in its case. “Do you think we should dig him out of the hole he got himself into?”
“We?” huffed Pal’tran.
Twitching her tail towards the front of the store, Amdirlain tilted her head. “He likely spoke to you and told you about yet another poor bet he made. Well, I hope he confessed to exercising poor judgement.”
“He did; says your voice is incredible,” reported Pal’tran.
Amdirlain nodded. “Then it is we. My voice and your decision whether I can utilise a sound booth when a paying customer isn’t using it.”
“If you can’t?” enquired Pal’tran carefully.
Amdirlain gave a dismissive ear twitch. “Then Jal’krin doesn’t have a deal, and I find out where the competitions are myself. Though he talked it up, I’m sure it won’t be that hard to get included among the competitors. Now, should we dig him and his sister out or not?”
Pal’tran sighed. “I’d prefer he work for it, but the fact is his family can’t easily replace the money for either him or his sister to study. He made a rash bet and got held to the letter rather than the spirit. The dean’s son insisted that since Jal’krin’s sister was already auditing courses, he’d also put her future at the campus on the line.”
“He sounds as pleasant as a rotting cock,” snorted Amdirlain, but she caught the importance they placed in honouring agreements.
Her terminology caused Pal’tran to smother a laugh. “Grudges between old prides don’t settle easily, and Jal’krin had been stirring the pot to get the bet accepted.”
Amdirlain frowned when suspicion flared. “How did he come to lose?”
“Nothing underhanded, just an unlucky combination of conditions,” Pal’tran replied. “They could have easily afforded the loss; us, not so much these days.”
Amdirlain wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like trusting luck. Betting more than he can afford is a lesson Jal’krin still hasn’t learnt. My bet with him today included access to a booth, and now I find out he had no right to give it out.”
“Aren’t you doing exactly that in the territories?” enquired Pal’tran. “Trusting to your luck, that is.”
“I have multiple plans for my time in the territories. The bet was an opportunity to speed things up,” countered Amdirlain. “It wouldn’t have hurt me if I’d lost the coin I put up in our wager.”
“Speed what up?”
“Progressing to getting my next Class and becoming a hero,” Amdirlain replied, and she gave him an exaggerated wink.
“If it’s none of my business, just say so,” grumbled Pal’tran.
Amdirlain laughed. “That wouldn’t be true since Jal’krin benefits from me competing.”
“Are you going to stop for lunch soon?”
“I’ll eat later. I want to use the booth while I can,” demurred Amdirlain. “Your choice if you trust Jal’krin’s judgement about my voice or if you need me to sing.”
“And if I insist you sing?”
“Such would suggest I run from this arrangement,” advised Amdirlain.
“Then I’ll wait to hear you sing at Clearstrike’s this evening,” deflated Pal’tran. “And after that, I’ll let you know if I can find work for you tutoring singers.”
Amdirlain shook her head. “I’m performing, not tutoring, unless the competitions don’t offer as much opportunity as Jal’krin said.”
I don’t need the money; I need access through the wards. A student’s ward stone might be enough, but we’ll see. I’ll need to see if getting a patron to study on campus is possible, given I’ve no pride backing me up.
“They do, and some draw competitors from across the territories. I’ll leave you be. Jal’krin will let you know whenever a booking for this booth is approaching,” advised Pal’tran. “The facilities are at the end of the hallway.”
Pal’tran started to rise, only for Amdirlain to hold up a hand. The low, sustained note that had rumbled across her lips set his fur prickling along his spine. The rumbling bass that built to the crescendo of an avalanche held Pal'tran frozen in place. Amdirlain stopped with a crash of boulders cracking and resumed with the bass notes of a cello intro of In the Hall of the Mountain King. As she continued with the song, layering in a few of each instrument, Pal’tran slowly sat down, his ears upright from his head.
Amdirlain smirked at his shocked expression. With her voice alone, she performed the instrumental version of her favourite songs, laying in basses, keyboards, drums, and guitar riffs. One piece after another flowed out, and Amdirlain danced to them all.
As she drew the eighth song to a close, Amdirlain considered the trembling Pal’tran and tried to project smug self-assurance. “Too much?”
Before he could answer, she sang the chords of the Outlands, energy shifting across her skin. She projected the sunshine through warm bass notes and used lilting soprano chords to convey a gentle breeze dancing through her hair. Prickling notes tweaked their ears and carried the sharp scents of pine sap and flowers.
“What did you sing for Jal’krin?” breathed Pal’tran.
Giving a wink, Amdirlain started performing the composition and quickly had Pal’tran gasping in surprise. “He said you sang it, but you sang all the layers of his composition!”
“Which did you like the most?” asked Amdirlain.
“They were all so joyous, but perhaps best not to dance on stage. Your moves are too mature for your age, and a venue like Clearstrike’s,” coughed Pal’tran.
Amdirlain had to laugh since all she’d been doing were dance moves suitable for a Sydney nightclub.
The afternoon passed quickly, and when the first customer showed up to use the booth, Amdirlain moved up to the shop’s rooftop. From there, she watched the students moving across the campus grounds and continued to strain her Resonance.
As the shop started closing, Jal’krin came onto the rooftop and found her sitting near the edge. “Did you eat at all?”
“I still had trail rations,” replied Amdirlain. “I know they don’t go bad quickly, but letting them sit around is still silly.”
Jabbing a thumb towards the rooftop door, Jal'krin replied, “Pal’tran said he’d buy us dinner and come along to Clearstrike’s.”
“Does he want to ensure you’re safe in my company?” asked Amdirlain, picking up her pack and harp case and slinging them over her shoulder.
“He said you think I’m an idiot,” stated Jal’krin.
“Yeah, let’s go inside the stairwell,” said Amdirlain.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not having this discussion on a rooftop where sound carries. Are any of the sound booths open?” asked Amdirlain, keeping her knowledge to herself.
“All of them are, it’s closing time,” replied Jal’krin. “Only us, and my uncle, are in the building.”
“Then the stairs will do,” said Amdirlain.
With that, she stalked inside and waited for him at the first landing of the stairwell. When Jal’krin followed her downstairs, he stopped further up the stairs with his arms crossed.
“I said you displayed poor judgement and are prepared to risk more than you can afford to lose,” stated Amdirlain. “Also, I put him on the spot to see if he trusts your judgement and he rose to the challenge, or fell for it. I guess it all depends on how you look at it. For his faith in you, I rewarded him with some songs. The question becomes, is his faith in you warranted?”
Jal’krin frowned. “Most people avoid using that word; you should mind your language.”
“Faith?” queried Amdirlain curiously.
“Yes,” acknowledged Jal’krin, and he shifted uncomfortably on the spot.
“I’m not most people. Are you worthy of his faith and commitment to you? Does your sister deserve your reckless disregard?”
Jal’krin grunted unhappily. “That’s a low blow.”
“I don’t care. You screwed up and then didn’t learn from it,” declared Amdirlain. “You didn’t stop and listen to my conditions and agreed to something that wasn’t yours to provide. Did you?”
“No, but how was I to know that your vocal skills are so abnormal?”
“But? That’s just it. There is a time when you need to act, but when you’re not in danger, you need to start by considering whether the risk is acceptable.” warned Amdirlain. “Next time you place a bet, ask yourself if you can afford to lose what you’re putting up.”
“I’ll manage,” protested Jal’krin.
“Will your sister?” questioned Amdirlain, and she caught his pained gaze. “Maybe, for you, that is the better question. Don’t focus on the potential rewards! Ask yourself only if she can afford to lose it.”
“With your voice-”
“I intend to lose some competitions,” interjected Amdirlain.
Jal’krin let out a strangled gasp. “What?!”
Crossing her arms, Amdirlain gave him a stiff smile. “And I won’t tell you which I’m going to throw. Something might come up, and I’ll need to withdraw from the ones I intend to win.”
“What is more important than these competitions if you want into a course?”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Maybe you should consider that you don’t know everything?” laughed Amdirlain. “I certainly know that I don’t. I will look to do just enough to win each time. But what if I misjudge my competition, or someone following me does a better job, or I see a reason to throw it?”
“Why would you throw a competition?”
“Because I might believe someone deserves it more,” replied Amdirlain. “Or maybe to get long odds in the next competition. Or if I want to discourage someone from sponsoring me that I don’t like without saying no directly? For all those reasons, if I catch so much as a hint that you’ve bet more than I’ve told you to, I will lose in one fashion or another.”
“You’d risk not being allowed to enter the next competition if people think you’re doing it on purpose. You could end up with a reputation that you can't sustain your performance quality under pressure,” warned Jal’krin. “That would make a patron shy away from extending an opportunity.”
“I’m young. I need a few more years to mature,” sighed Amdirlain, and she swooned dramatically. “How about you? Where will you be in a few more years if this doesn’t work out?”
“You bloody don’t sound young coming up with all that,” growled Jal’krin.
Amdirlain raised a warning finger. “And you need to learn that nothing in life is certain and to have contingencies in place. Betting what you can’t afford to lose is stupid. So yeah, I guess I told your uncle you’re an idiot. The question is, are you going to stay one?”
“No,” grumbled Jal’krin.
“Good, then show me some music and words for local songs,” ordered Amdirlain. “Tonight, I will perform enough to stand out without showing my hand.”
The sheet music that Jal’krin retrieved looked almost like a plastic film. Their musical notation differed from anything Amdirlain had seen, but it made sense after Jal’krin performed two songs for her.
Rapidly leafing through the shop’s sheet music, Amdirlain spotted a few appealing songs. Humming one as she waited for the pair to finish their final tasks before they headed out the door, she drew Jal’krin’s attention.
“That’s a country song,” noted Jal’krin.
“Do you know what happens if you sing a country song backwards?” asked Amdirlain.
“No,” replied Jal’krin warily.
Amdirlain grinned. “It stops raining, your spouse stops cheating, your pet comes home, and the law keepers find your vehicle intact.”
Jal’krin snorted in disbelief, but it earned a bark of amusement from Pal’tran. “If only life were that simple.”
Leading them around the corner, Pal’tran unlocked a well-maintained but aged vehicle. As they set off, Amdirlain softly sang and played with inflections to accent the emotions in the words.
“You just skimmed them once,” muttered Jal’krin.
“Leave Am be; you don’t like people talking when you’re composing,” reprimanded Pal’tran, his attention not shifting from the road.
In the congested roads of late afternoon traffic it took nearly forty minutes before they pulled into the parking station close to the club. The nearby eatery Pal’tran took them to wasn’t fancy, but it was a clean cafe with good size portions. Since Jal’krin had questioned her about eating, Amdirlain ordered enough to keep her teenage cover intact.
Daylight had dimmed before they exited the cafe, and Amdirlain found a change waiting. Along the building facades, thin horizontal panels had extended from the buildings. Each one radiated the usual soft white light found indoors across the sidewalk.
“It looks effective, but I don’t quite understand why the builders took this approach,” said Amdirlain.
“Something about casting minimal shadows for any undead to use for refuge,” offered Jal’krin. “Orbs along the street means you cast a shadow behind or in front of you, especially if any go out.”
Pal’tran nodded. “The original proposal was for emergency responders, but they’ve changed the city’s nightlife. People used to ensure they were inside before dark. The changes have brought the city alive at night. Now, tonight is to get your name out, so don’t go full blast yet.”
His confidence that a single club performance would do that seemed out of place to Amdirlain. “Do the performers here really get well known?”
“Clearstrike’s has presence casters. You never know who might be watching,” advised Jal’krin. “That’s why I suggested it.”
Amdirlain’s ears twitched, reacting to her confusion. “Presence casters?”
“They send pictures, sounds, even the feel of the stage presence. Those with a receiver at home, tuned to the right signal, can watch on as if they were in the audience,” explained Jal’krin. “Part of the Mana draw of the receivers gets credited to the signal they’re set to while operating.”
“Should I sit apart from you, or do you think that won’t matter for competition betting?” asked Amdirlain.
“You’re not an adult, you’ll need to be accompanied to get in,” replied Pal’tran, and he motioned her to stay close.
As they followed another group of customers past the parking garage they’d used, everyone else had their hands near their holsters.
“What weapons are you carrying?” asked Pal’tran, his eyes scanning the shadows.
She could hear the Radiant Mana within the surrounding light, pooling within the ground and only gradually diffusing. The effect was like a charged capacitor, making it a self-destructive path for an incorporeal foe to attempt passage through.
“Throwing knives and fast feet,” replied Amdirlain, having already checked there was nothing close.
Pal’tran frowned. “Don’t count on speed. Some spectres that manifest in the city can fly faster than anyone, but the most experienced combatants can run. If they hit the light, its energy vaporises them.”
“Is everyone jumpy about getting ambushed despite the lights, or hoping to shoot an undead?” questioned Amdirlain.
“If one shows its face, why not take the chance to destroy it?” inquired Jal’krin.
Amdirlain took in his keyed-up state, ears upright, and hand on his holster. “I agree, but if you feel it’s so dangerous to come out at night, why do so?”
“Living life restrained by fear is no life at all,” answered Pal’tran.
“Nice sentiment,” acknowledged Amdirlain.
Amdirlain saw Clearstrike’s for the first time as they neared the next block's end. It was a four-story building, and its street side was some twenty metres long. The building’s frontage bore a detailed image of a stage. Across it, an enchantment created an illusion of life, making the figures of a band upon it appear to play. The signage beside the door displayed notes rising from a big kettle drum forming into the name. Despite what Amdirlain considered the relatively early hour for a club, a line of thirty people were ahead of them.
“When I was getting my start, the lunchtime crowd was the big thing. Getting relegated to an afternoon slot lit the fire under many a performer,” advised Pal’tran. “Now everyone wants the late evening slots to show their courage by staying out late.”
“I’ll take whatever spot is open,” muttered Amdirlain, and she brightened her tone innocently. “Hey, is it possible to record the presence caster signal for later?”
“How would you do that?” asked Jal’krin.
Amdirlain shrugged and motioned to herself. “Do I look like an Artificer? I hadn’t heard of a presence caster before, so I was curious about the possibility. If the Artificer can send information between devices, maybe there is a way to store the memory of it. I mean, you have audio recording options in the sound booth. What if I wanted to see a performer but wouldn’t be near a receiver? Or wanted to see myself to know what to improve?”
“Interesting idea,” commented Pal’tran. “I’m not an Artificer either, but I know some. With the questions you asked, I’m curious what they’d say.”
The line of customers quickly moved between the two large male Catfolk on the door that exuded the familiar vibe of bouncers. Near them on a stand was a lockbox but also a silver panel set flush with the top of the podium; a cable ran from the stand’s base through the doors.
“Coin or Mana?” asked a bouncer to each customer. As the line proceeded, a few touched their hand to the plate instead of handing over coins.
Pal’tran offered a stack of low-denomination coins and gestured between the three of them. Only once the bouncer had checked and dropped the cash in the lockbox did he usher them inside. Looking Amdirlain over, his eyes narrowed in consideration, and he raised a hand to halt her. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“She’s here to perform,” advised Pal’tran.
With a grunt, the bouncer retrieved a woven cord from his pocket and got Amdirlain to fasten it around her left wrist. “Don’t think about asking for booze or spices.”
With that, he stepped aside again and let her pass. Through the doorway was a short corridor with a check-in counter on one side and double doors at the end. As Pal’tran handed over his energy projector, Amdirlain set her throwing knives atop the counter and received a token in return.
Following the pair through the double doors, Amdirlain found she was on a raised step with the club laid out before her. The ground floor took up most of the space within the building. Finely carved tables interspaced the bronze-sheathed pillars supporting a partial second floor. Its crescent formation provided a prime view of the wooden dance floor and the curtained stage beyond. To the right of the entrance, a long bar wrapped around the wall.
Pal’tran leant close to speak and pointed across the top of those already lined up at the bar. “Beyond the end of the bar, you’ll find a staff member organising performance slots. You should get as late a spot as you can manage, let the crowd warm up first.”
Jal’krin pointed at a small table close to the stage as they skirted the few patrons waiting at the bar. Without a word, he headed off, and Pal’tran shrugged at Amdirlain. Where Pal’tran had pointed, she found a male Catfolk whose fur blended with the reddish-brown of the wooden tables. He had a film sheet in front of him with many names already marked with an oil pen and a small stack of counters.
“I’d like a spot later in the evening. Is that possible?” asked Amdirlain.
The staff member looked her up and said, “I don’t recognise you. Name?”
“Am, sir.”
“Am of?
“Blackcliff pride, far south of the territories,” advised Amdirlain.
The male’s muzzle curled up on one side, and he pushed a token forward and marked her down a quarter of the way down the sheet. “You’ve got a five-minute time slot in an hour and a half. Two minutes of prep time to get on stage. If you’re up quickly, you’ll have longer to sing. Take longer than four minutes to get on stage, and we call the next slot. Using that token, you can collect any gratuity given to the staff or from receivers half an hour after your act. Understood?”
Amdirlain had nodded several times during the rapid-fire instructions. “Yes, sir.”
Getting out of the next person’s path, Amdirlain moved away with Pal’tran. He detoured to the bar to buy drinks for the three of them. When Amdirlain shrugged helplessly at the options, she got handed a fancy mocktail with sugar granules coating the rim; it was such a deep red, it looked like blood but tasted of wild berries.
The running of the evening reminded Amdirlain of a few open mic nights she’d seen. Some acts were surprisingly good after nervous starts, but a couple never got on stage, bringing Amdirlain’s time slot forward. Listening to the performers, Amdirlain took in the audience’s reactions, working to develop a gauge of the social norms of their culture. So many songs she considered from her past had phrasing that meant she couldn’t use straight translations even when they’d match the beat.
Amdirlain would have been happy to pay to hear the singer who performed right before her slot, but she restrained her curiosity to dig. Amusingly, he’d picked the same heartbreak melody Amdirlain had worked through on the way over, so she threw that plan away. The emotional rawness in the male’s voice during the verse carried the theme of knowing loss, and she tapped the beat out in sympathy.
Amdirlain beat the previous singer to the stage stairs when the announcer called her name. Standing out of the way at the base of the stairs, she gave him a nod of appreciation for his rendition and a soft 'well done'.
“Thanks, good luck.”
Striding out to the centre stage, she smiled at the audience and started with the same low bass rumble that had caused Pal’tran’s fur to stand on end. It built steadily to a volume audible at the back of the club, despite the clink of drinks and murmur of conversation. Her use of the fear frequency had heartbeats racing and adrenaline surging throughout the audience. As the audience’s eyes widened in that subconscious fear reaction, she broke out of the rumble with the sound of thunder and crashing stones.
Silence weighed on the club, and Amdirlain expanded on the performance of ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King’ she’d given Pal’tran. As she split her voice to add multiples of each instrument after the cellos, the sixty-piece orchestra effect drew murmurs of curiosity and wonder. The memory of a conductor almost dancing as he directed an orchestra performing the song helped her project a bright, buoyant mood—the overall effect contrasted with the wash of fear she invoked, helping to lift spirits further.
When the song ended, the audience froze, unsure if there would be more, and with plenty of time left, Amdirlain had to suppress a mischievous urge.
Instead of using Darth Vader’s theme—Imperial March—her voice shifted pitched and swooped into the opening trill of Grieg’s Morning Mood. The audience’s mood was already bright, and some swayed in time to the music. As Amdirlain sang, carefully conveying her emotions, recalling winter days and the temptation to stay snuggled in bed.
When it came to a close, she found many of the audience leaning forward in their seats. Giving them an abbreviated bow that she’d seen other performers use, Amdirlain turned for the stage exit. Her movement caused the floodgates to open, and the club erupted in loud applause.
“Just as well I told you not to go full blast,” murmured Pal’tran. “I’ve heard nothing like the instruments you imitated in that piece.”
“They might be ones just from my imagination,” replied Amdirlain. "And that wasn't full blast."
“Did you perform multiple pieces?” asked Jal’krin. “The feel changed dramatically halfway through.”
“Yes, the first is called In the Hall of the Mountain King and the second was Morning Mood,” replied Amdirlain, wishing she could credit the composer.
“The second did have a sleepy, ‘I’m too warm to get out of bed’ feel to it,” observed Jal’krin. “I half expected to see some of the audience start to nap, and then the high notes returned and woke them up.”
Amdirlain laughed. “I might have been trying to convey that through the music.”
Nodding towards Jal’krin, Pal’tran’s mouth twitched. “He used to need a tail tug to get out of bed.”
The next performer got up on stage, and the lyrics spoke of the pain of friends left on a battlefield and the pieces of the writer it left behind with them. Amdirlain listened in silence, and her focus cut the conversation off. A few more of the mocktail she’d been nursing got delivered to their table by the serving staff. It gave her something to cover that the lyrics dug at the grief that occasionally left her feeling hollow and aching inside. Catching Pal’tran’s concerned expression, she realised her ears had lain back in pain as her tail smacked her leg. She forced the unfamiliar appendages to behave and turned her attention to her drinks.
On the way out the door later, Amdirlain received nods of appreciation and congratulations. Stopping at the bar, she collected far more than the cover charge when handing in her token.
On the way back to his vehicle in the well-lit garage, Pal’tran waved his tail towards the club.
“Next time, I suggest having a few songs ready so you can switch between them. Best avoid being a novelty act no matter how impressive your vocalisation is,” advised Pal’tran. “Or make Jal’krin earn his way and compose some songs for you.”
“None of my compositions would fit in the time slots they allow performers,” objected Jal’krin.
Pal’tran snorted. “Then you need to be more flexible and concise in conveying emotions.”
The trip to Jal’krin’s place wasn’t far, but they saw two misshapen spectres on the five-minute journey. Each came to the same end, ruptured into a mist against the wards woven into the vehicle it attacked.
“There have been more of late,” murmured Pal’tran as he pulled into the driveway before a three-story townhouse. He carefully stopped underneath a light panel that gave them cover to the front door. “I expect the military to warn of another large abomination forming soon.”
“I thought the spectres formed if they didn’t clear one in time?” questioned Amdirlain.
“That’s what they teach in school," Pal'tran said. "Frequently, smaller abominations happen before a big one; it’s an inconvenient truth that large-scale events aren’t the only danger.”
“Goodness, who’d have thought?” drawled Amdirlain. “Surely it's not a problem until it threatens me directly.”
Pal’tran laughed as Amdirlain slipped out of the vehicle and ensured the door was secured.
Jal’krin moved carefully down the lit path and motioned her to enter the front door first. Beyond the doorway was a narrow passage that ran through a crossroad at the building’s centre and then continued to a flight of stairs at the end. Each section had four doors present, but the marked numbers on the far side of the crossroads only showed a gap of two.
As Amdirlain moved forward, Jal’krin pointed to the first door on her right. “That’s my place.”
His door opened into a narrow apartment that ran along the corridor. Amdirlain detected a larger apartment through the far wall connected to the crossroad’s right side.
Narrow apartments down the middle and multi-bedroom places take up the sides.
“Do they have these panels where you came from?” asked Jal’krin, and he gave the closest hexagon a tap.
“No,” admitted Amdirlain.
“The building’s wards keep everything out, but if a room’s light turns yellow, there is a breach,” advised Jal’krin, and he stepped into the apartment ahead of her.
“Okay.”
After Jal’krin let her into his apartment, Amdirlain took in the one-bedroom place. There were only a few pieces of simple furnishing in the main room, and at its far end lay two doors.
The place contained little in the way of material possessions. A deep, backless bench server sat against the wall across from the entry. A waist-high bookcase was placed between the door and a flat kitchenette along the left wall. The shelves were packed with textbooks and scores of notebooks.
More notebooks nearly covered a small square table that sat against the wall opposite the kitchenette’s sink. Beside the table was an ice chest with visible exterior cold runes, leaving a clear path to the doors.
After he closed the door, Jal’krin rested his hand on a silver plate previously hidden behind it, and Amdirlain felt him run a trickle of Mana into it. “I’ll let you use the washroom first. It’s the left door, hard to miss in this massive place, I know.”
“What’s that panel?” asked Amdirlain.
“Mana charging. I get credited for feeding energy into the grid. It’s the only reason I can afford a place of my own,” explained Jal’krin before he sighed. “Moving home wasn’t an option.”
Amdirlain nodded. “I’ve got a bit of Mana, but I only know the basics of a sound Spell List. Would it help if I contribute?”
“Every bit helps at the moment,” said Jal’krin. “I didn’t know bards could learn spells.”
“That’s alright, I forgive you,” allowed Amdirlain with a grin. “After all, it is an archaic Class.”
Jal’krin shooed her towards the washroom as fatigue started to hit from sending gulps of Mana into the plate. While Amdirlain pretended long enough to maintain her cover, she heard him considerately fit the couch with sheets and blankets. When Jal’krin took over the washroom, she examined the panel and the chain of Mana conductive blocks behind it. Finding a connection that led towards the street, Amdirlain sent the barest trickle of Mana into the silver and listened to how it recorded the details.
Amdirlain settled on the couch before he came out and pretended to be asleep. Seeing her flaked out, Jal’krin crept around, preparing for bed and trying not to disturb her.
Only when Amdirlain heard his breathing slow into a sound sleep did she weave an illusion about the couch and sit upright. Bringing out a crystal cube, she linked it to the surveyor overhead and had it project the paths of all the possessed she’d tagged throughout the day. At first, their paths appeared random, but they all connected with a few properties on the city’s edge by day’s end.
With the surveyors’ gathering of real-time information so new, and the distortion in play, Amdirlain opted for an in-person visit to each.