Kelphaven was known as the Geode by the Sea, a great trading port for all of Moadma Landmass, central to the politics and games played by the major powers – a city-state whose influence snaked out across Londoa, a multi-headed hydra of commerce, ships of a thousand varieties and builds swarming its docks – elven skimmers, orcish galleons, human junks, even the strange, patchwork vessels of the eln meia which seemed more and more numerous and battle-damaged by the day, evidence of their wars of unification across both sea and sky on distant Darkheld.
But that war was far from here, as Rosemary and Urash arrived into town via wagon. The old merchant prince was grumbling, thumbing the iron magic rod he had carried since his youth. Over the heavy plate mail he seemed to live in – Rosemary had never seen him without it – he was wearing purple robes, a symbol to the people of Kelphaven that he was a dwarf here for trade, not for work in the mines to the city’s east. The symbols adorning these robes, however, were not from Londoa, but rather the eye-and-diamond symbol of Clan Belgone of Krenstone, the World of Towers.
“Not sure if they're going to recognize it,” Rosemary had pointed out as they had left Scuttleway.
“Bah, recognition comes from the skill of the merchant,” Urash had growled, “Doesn't matter if they don't know who the Belgones are. They will.”
“By you?” Rosemary smirked.
“Aye,” Urash said, “Wakeling said we needed Nora Lanterns, and I said I'd get them.”
He had told her a bit about their sellers as they made their way to Kelphaven, curving over the Landmass. A couple travelers walked with them – a caravan by convenience, to dissuade the more obvious dangers of the road. Although Rosemary had traded conversation with them – they were a young couple headed to Kelphaven for a couple of tonics for the village alchemist – up until that moment they had traveled in relative silence.
“The seller's a merchant from Methuselah. Has a deal with an upper businessman on Neos to supply Nora Lanterns to them – just around the same tech level that's the Federation's fine with it.”
“And Nora Lanterns are...?”
“Biotech,” Urash answered, “A mass of bacteria that glows in the dark when fed the right chemicals – calcium carbonate-”
“Calcium carbonate?” Rosemary interrupted, “Like egg shells?”
“Or chalk,” Urash said, “Really, anything of that nature will do, and we've got plenty of eggs-”
“Nerd.”
The dwarf rolled his eyes, “I'm bringing you to Kelphaven because you said that you were bored cooped up at the guildhall. Don't make me change my mind.”
“Sorry, it's just exciting!” Rosemary laughed, “An exchange all the way out in Kelphaven, with a merchant prince from Krenstone doing the driving!”
“Bah,” Urash said, “Don't try to flatter me. Just shut up and make sure we're going in the right direction.”
Snickering to herself, Rosemary took the reins once more.
***
The gates were open into the city, and Rosemary felt the familiar scent of the sea as they made their way down the main street of the city. Market stalls ran up and down the cobblestone road – mostly fare from the sea, though a couple of them had goods from inland, such as the hobgoblin selling trinkets to passing tourists and sailors, crowing about their protective qualities. Urash ignored all of them, muttering 'tourist trap' under his breath as he took over the reins from Rosemary and guided the krem away from the hustle and bustle and down one of the side streets. Seagulls squawked overhead, four wings flapping as they ascended on a cold gust of wind. One of them landed in the wagon by Rosemary, looking at her and poking at the bags littered around the wagon. She let out a laugh and extended a hand, the seagull pecking at it for a moment before jumping onto her lap.
“You can't keep it, Rosemary,” Urash warned.
“I don't keep anything, Urash,” Rosemary replied, “Besides, he's just a friend. Nothing serious.”
“Hmph.”
He ignored her as she took out a slice of cheese and presented it to the bird. The seagull took it and scarfed it down as she stroked his feathers. The wagon rumbled and jumbled across Kelphaven as Urash made his way to the meeting place.
“The... palace?” Rosemary asked.
“Aye,” Urash said, “The local prince likes hosting guild business whenever he can. Hopes to add to his allure, and all that.”
Castle Dundrilhan, a place of multiversal trade, a solid keep of stone and seaglass, stood tall on the edge of Kelphaven, its placement in the city one of honor, as it looked out towards the open ocean, her north side watching the waves – and it was a fortress well-used, as the northern battlements were pockmarked with scars from magic and cannon fire. Part of the wall was notably a shade darker than the rest, a healed wound from when the multiversal pirate Galapagos One-Eye had assaulted the city during the war. The old oaken door into Dundrilhan was thronged on either side by statues hewn from coral, swords crossing over the top of the archway. Urash jumped out of the wagon with a rough thud, tossing a coin to the servant coming to greet them.
“We know where we're going,” the dwarf said, “Just watch the wagon and krem, hmm?”
“Of course, sir,” the servant piped, “Will you require assistance unloading?”
“Hmm,” Urash stroked his beard, giving his signature stink eye to the wagon, a deliberating and almost obtuse glare as he considered his answer, “Best to keep everything there for now. Rosemary, time to say goodbye.”
“Seeya,” Rosemary said, giving the seagull one last pat before setting him free. The seagull took off, joining the rest of his flock as they glided beside the keep.
“Don't want to unload everything now?” Rosemary asked.
“It'll help us with the negotiations,” Urash said, “If we unload everything now, we're showing our hand – we didn't bring much. Just a couple example pieces here and there. If we unload everything, and all the seller sees are a couple of bags and an overactive elf...”
“Fair point,” Rosemary said, “What do you want me to do during all of this?”
“Not really sure,” Urash said, “Look pretty, and keep your mouth shut. You're good at the former, not so much the latter.”
“Why, Urash!” Rosemary said, “I'll pretend I didn't hear that last part, and take back all the mean things Ichabod said about you.”
The dwarf let out a growling huff, “Just make sure you don't mess anything up, got it? I don't think Wakeling would be very happy if you managed to wriggle your way into this and then blew it all up.”
“Fair point,” Rosemary said, “Lips are sealed.”
The meeting hall was certainly quieter than the rest of the city – a couple of far travelers hawking their wares, or meeting with clients from other planes. Rosemary saw a businesswoman talking with a heaving mass of tentacles over the trade of seaglass to Prime, as well as a couple of mercenaries from the guild Thrumming Beats negotiating with a ship's captain over the proper rate of pay for their services.
“There's our man,” Urash said, “Licaius! Over here!”
Oh, he was a man of Methuselah, alright. Licaius (Rosemary supposed his full name was like other Methuselah names, like 'Licaius Solasius Morterius Longnamium') was wearing a nice suit, a dark blue velvet cape draped over his shoulders. His hair was impeccably combed and sat in place as though it had been sculpted from wood, not a single hair bobbing as he approached and shook Urash's hand energetically.
“Urash! Good man, good man,” his voice was posh and smooth and altogether like a rat's.
Not that Rosemary said that last part aloud, of course.
“This here's Rosemary,” Urash said, “Also of the guild.”
“Hello,” she said, perhaps a bit too politely, as she caught a slight eyebrow raise on Licaius's part.
“Good lady,” he said, then he turned his attention back down to Urash, “Shall we walk while we talk?”
“Of course, of course. Dundrilhan's always a bit stuffy for my tastes.”
They split off from the main entryway and down one of the hallways. The center of Dundrilhan was a garden – a beautiful one, Rosemary noted, with flowers and trees from a dozen planes – mundane trees like oaks and elms – which were utterly alien to Londoa, along with trees from Murknoir, their roots levitating a foot off the ground, the entire affair a floating, drab ghost that made Rosemary feel sorry for the old thing. Not that Urash and Licaius seemed to care about the nature in this place – it was right to business for the old fogies, as soon as they exchanged pleasantries – they couldn't even make small talk and ask the other about, say, their kids, as Urash was married to the art of mercantilism and Licaius's name was too long for anyone to love.
“Right, the Nora Lanterns, then,” the Methuselah man produced from his sleeve a tube filled with what seemed to be water, “Now, obviously the ones I sell are cubes, roughly a foot tall and a foot wide. I use the tubes as an example.”
“Of course,” Urash said.
Licaius reached into his robes once more, “I use pearl as my example, but any instance of calcium carbonate will do.”
Nerd, Rosemary thought.
He opened up the tube and dropped it in. The tube was filled with water, and as the pearl fell in it began fizzling and dissolving, a distinct hiss emanating from within as the bacteria broke it down and began to glow in a white light. Urash squinted his eyes as he watched.
“Not bad, not bad at all,” the dwarf murmured, “And you can sell how many of these?”
“In a perfect world, as many as you want,” Licaius said, “Anything for a guild! But this is not a perfect world.”
“Of course,” Urash said.
“I can offer around twenty of them – I can't provide the calcium, of course.”
“We can provide that on our own – plenty of eggs back home.”
“Of course,” Licaius agreed.
“And payment?” Urash prodded.
“Federation credits are the go-to,” Licaius said, “But I'm open to more interesting options. You are a guild, after all. Certainly you have something apart from the ordinary.”
The dwarf stroked his beard, “Oh, I'm not too sure...”
False modesty, Rosemary noted. It certainly got Licaius's attention, as he leaned in closer.
“Come now, I'm from one of the most technologically advanced planes in the multiverse. No cross-contamination here.”
“We've got a bit of this, and a bit of that,” Urash said, “But no, I don't think you'd like it. Just old computers from Prime, a Knowstone from Methuselah – which you no doubt possess, of course.”
“All standard items,” Licaius said, a bit disappointed.
“A tablet from Tsaeyaru...” Urash said in an off-handed manner.
That got Licaius's attention.
“A tablet from... Tsaeyaru? I thought their Church had a stranglehold on their lost technologies.”
“Bah,” Urash said, “The Silver Chain's grip is only so strong. Of course, there might not be anything on there...”
“You mean you haven't had a chance to turn it on?” Licaius asked.
“Perhaps. There's a bit of information of the old world on there but... No, perhaps I shouldn't say.”
“I know what you're doing, my friend,” Licaius smirked.
“Of course,” Urash said.
“And it's working, you sly dog. Very well, a trade. Twenty Nora Lanterns for the tablet from Tsaeyaru.”
“Make it twenty-five,” Urash said, “It's a damn good tablet.”
“Twenty-three, and I'll put it in good word to the merchants of Methuselah about the... generosity, shall we say, of the Amber Foundation.”
“And of Clan Belgone?” Urash said.
“Bastard, of course!” Licaius laughed, “Good word about the Amber Foundation and Clan Belgone of Krenstone.”
They shook hands, and that was that.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Urash said.
“And with you. I'll arrange for the delivery of the Nora Lanterns to your guildhall. Should be arriving within the week.”
“When we get all twenty-three, I'll send the tablet,” Urash said. He poked his nose, “And I'd better get that good rumor on our behalf, or this deal is a waste.”
“Of course.”
“Of course.”
Licaius gave a nod and a bow to the dwarf before sweeping away.
“Of course,” Rosemary mocked.
“Bah, you miss all the subtleties of the phrase,” Urash growled.
“Of course,” Rosemary said, beaming him a smarmy smile.
The dwarf rolled his eyes and muttered a defeated curse underneath his breath.
“Right,” he said, changing the subject, “I've already arranged for lodgings in the city. We'll be staying the night here.”
“What inn?”
“Not an inn, we'll be staying in the castle itself,” Urash said, “Courtesy of the prince himself.”
Rosemary wrinkled her nose at that.
“Something the matter?” Urash asked.
“Don't like royalty, is all,” she said.
“Bah, if it gets us a warm bed and hot food, then it doesn't matter who it's from,” Urash said.
Rosemary supposed he was right. A servant came over after noticing that the dwarf had finished with his negotiations with Licaius, and guided them to their rooms. But Rosemary didn't stay for long – it was just a boring room, after all, with a bed and a table and absolutely nothing of interest. Not even the potted plant on the nightstand was of any note – sad and wilting. This prince needed to work on his hospitality. Instead, rose in hand and cloak billowing around her, a nice bag strapped to her side, she swept out of the room. She went over to Urash's door and knocked on the door.
“Mmm,” Urash grunted. He opened the door, glowering up at her, “What?”
“I'm going out on the town, alright?” Rosemary said, “Want to come?”
“Bah. No time – I've got to make my report to Becenti that the sale went through.”
“Oh, come on, Urash! Don't you want to play the part of the tourist? Grab a couple souvenirs? Get ripped off by local peddlers?”
“Rosemary, we're only a day's journey from Kelphaven. We're practically next-door neighbors.”
“Yeah, but Scuttleway doesn't have an ocean-side view, does it? I'm going out.”
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“Right,” Urash said, “Just be back in time for dinner, in case Becenti needs anything from us.”
“Sounds good!”
So she spent the remainder of the day wandering the city. No particular goal in mind, as her goal was not about the city itself. She went through the markets, stopping by the occasional stall to peruse its wares, never stopping for more than a few minutes, her eyes continually glancing upwards as the sky warmed from blue to orange.
“Right,” she said after a while, “Showtime.”
She made her way to her usual spot – an inn just shy of the harbor district known as the Old Gallivan. A precarious four stories tall, it rose as one of the higher buildings in the area, and Rosemary had long ago struck a deal with the owner of the place when she had lived in Kelphaven in the six months before she joined the Amber Foundation. She began clambering up.
“Oh, hullo, Rosie.”
The voice came from a balcony on the second floor. It belonged to Muliro, the innkeeper, as she leaned out the window. The ogre’s hook, a reward from her days as a pirate, looked newly polished, the way it glinted in the darkening day. Inside, Rosemary could hear the sounds of music – a lyre and flute, accompanied by the rough chorus of sailors coming inside to drink the day's work away.
“Muliro!” Rosemary said, “Pleasure to see you about.”
“Oh, I heard you climbin' up the side, reckoned you were in town,” Muliro chuckled, “Heard you guildfolk were here a few weeks before?”
“Aye,” Rosemary said, “No time to stop by, though. Business in Salthirn, and you know how Broon gets.”
“Punctual for punctuality's sake,” Muliro agreed, “Well, I won't keep you – sounds like a fight's brewing downstairs.”
“This early?” Rosemary laughed, “Alright. Say hi to Petron for me. And Roibald. And Anders, and-”
“I'll say hi to all of 'em for you,” Muliro interrupted, “You get on up to the roof, now. Sun's already startin' to dip.”
“Thanks!”
She waved goodbye to the ogre, giving Muliro a wink before continuing her ascent. The roof was shingled – freshly so, she noticed. Muliro must have gotten it redone recently. That meant plenty of purchase, as she sat herself down to watch the setting sun plant itself into the ocean's horizon. She didn't need to wait long. As Muliro had mentioned, it was already starting to set, honeying the sea and dazzling its surface in glass-like glitter. It was a sight she never got sick of. Her home plane didn't have a sea, so she had always enjoyed coming here, watching the ships curl through the choppy waters, listening to the waves crash on the shore and the call of gulls echoing from above. Most people didn't realize this, but every seagull's song was unique, belonging solely to its singer, as unique as a snowflake on a cold winter's day. Already a few were gathering around her, joining her to watch the heralding of night.
“Oh, right!” she said to herself, “Dinner.”
Like she was going to let old Urash dictate a curfew. Rosemary was an adult – she could do whatever she wanted. She took her meal out of the bag – a simple tomato sandwich, with a bottle of nectar from the Gorion's Flower growing in the gardens outside Castle Belenus to wash it down. A satisfactory meal, and one that pinged her with the painful and bittersweet nostalgia of home.
***
She returned late that night to the castle. Urash was waiting for her at the entrance, his arms crossed and his expression dour.
“Late for dinner, I know,” she said.
“Bah, who cares about dinner,” Urash said, “You pay too much attention to the first part of what I said. Not the second.”
“What the heck could Becenti want from us? We already bought the darn lanterns-”
“Lady Sunala is coming here to Kelphaven,” Urash said, “We're to escort her back home to Scuttleway.”
Rosemary paled, “I thought she was already in Scuttleway!”
“So did Becenti, but apparently she's been on Darkheld Landmass and is returning tonight. She wants to return back to the city now.”
“She doesn’t want to stay the night?
“No,” Urash said, “When I mean now, I mean, now.”
The full weight of his words fell on Rosemary’s head like a sack of bricks.
“Shit,” she said, “Shitshitshit, I haven't made us late, have I?”
“Very nearly have,” Urash grunted.
Already the two of them were leaving, jogging towards the docks. Rosemary squinted, trying to discern dark shapes on the water, lit only by the pale moonlight. She could make out a ship, larger than the others, a full luxury liner that was just now coming to shore.
Urash was falling behind. He muttered a curse and pulled the metal rod out of his robes.
“Dammit!” he snarled, “Good thing I prepared this today-”
The rod glowed before Rosemary felt the wind pick up beneath her feet. Steeling herself, she jumped as the gust carried her upwards as the levitation spell took full effect.
“Better to fly than run!” Urash shouted.
“Gives us more style, too!” Rosemary laughed, “Got to impress the lady somehow!”
Her heart was fluttering with excitement now, the sudden panic receding as the two of them landed at the dock right as the ship arrived. Rosemary had heard of the Lady Sunala, had read stories of her exploits across Londoa and beyond. She was wringing her cloak as the flight spell withered away.
“Rosemary, your ears,” Urash warned.
“Right,” she reset her hair, letting the curly locks fall over her pointed ears, taking a deep breath, “Do I look alright?”
“Bah, you look fine,” Urash said, “Like a proper member of the guild. I'm sure Lady Sunala won't notice the bit of tomato stuck in your teeth.”
She felt around her mouth for a moment, tongue darting from tooth to tooth, the panic returning to her. Then, upon finding nothing, she glared at the dwarf. He had a right shit-eating grin on his face that melted to grim respect as the plank of the ship dropped down and the Lady Sunala arrived.
Three people came down. One was thin and reed-like, his cloak and clothing sticking to him form rather nicely as he stepped onto the pier. His hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he considered Rosemary and Urash with an upturned nose. The other was solid and large, also wearing an ermine cloak, a full beard covering his face. Neither of the two were armed.
“Amber Foundation, I presume?” the thin one asked.
“Aye,” Urash said, “Urash of Clan Belgone. This here's Rosemary.”
“Hey,” she said, a bit meekly.
The thin man took a deep breath, before piping, “May I present the Lady Lily-Ann Doriama Sunala, head of House Sunala, Keeper of the Third Crown.”
The Lady Sunala was almost as tall as her large escort. Her dress was a dark blue – seeming to melt into the night as she stepped between her two guards, one that seemed to shimmer and change and reflect the starry sky high above. Perhaps detrimental to this whole upkeep of nobility, she also wore a mundane and tattered tricorn hat, one that she was now slipping off and stowing to the side. Yet nonetheless, she carried herself with a poised, graceful air, as though a goddess was stepping off the ship and not a-
An elf. Rosemary could see the pointed ears, even in the half-light of the dock's lanterns.
“Greetings, Urash and Rosemary,” she said, “Clan Belgone, hmm? A long way from Krenstone, my friend.”
“We Belgones have a saying, Milady,” Urash said, “See far and walk there.”
“And what you see, sell,” Sunala finished. The dwarf gave a nod and a smile at that.
“And Rosemary,” she continued, “An elf, I see.”
“Is it... is it that obvious?” Rosemary asked.
“Kind recognizes kind,” Sunala said, “You should not be afraid of what you are.”
She turned back to Urash, “The two with me are my personal escorts. Nelthel and Spinlock. Say hello, you two.”
“Hello,” the thin man, Nelthel, said.
Spinlock simply nodded.
“Spin,” Sunala warned.
“Greetings,” his voice was deep and broad, “I am Spinlock.”
“As they already know,” Sunala said, ending the statement with a light chuckle.
Spinlock blushed a bit, “R-right.”
“Come, then, let's be off,” Sunala said, “I wish to get to Castle Belenus before dawn. Wakeling and I have much to discuss.”
“Of course,” Urash said.
He, Sunala, and her attendants went off at once. Rosemary gawked as she saw they were walking in the opposite direction of Dundrilhan.
“Ah,” she ran over to catch up to them, “We're not resting? No overnight trip? We're not leaving in the morning?”
“Rest is for the weary,” Sunala said, matching the brisk pace of her attendants, “And it is a mere day's trip back to Scuttleway. Besides,”
She turned to smile at Rosemary.
“It's a beautiful night for a walk, isn't it?”
***
The Lady Sunala was unstoppable. Unconquerable. Inconceivable. And judging by the fact that she seemed just as hale and hearty as she had been when she stepped off the ship while Rosemary's feet were blistered beyond recognition and Urash was wheezing and falling behind, indestructible. They didn't rest once on the journey back to Scuttleway. Spinlock and Nelthel carried torches to light the way, and even they began lagging behind as Sunala forged forward, one foot in front of the other, her dress becoming dusted and dirtied by the rigors of the road. Yet she didn't seem to mind, a calm smile on her face as she walked. Occasionally she would turn and remark upon something on the road – to which Rosemary, the only one able to really keep pace with her (though not without cost!) was privy to.
“Odd,” Sunala said at around three in the morning, “Sandlethorn is unusually dark tonight.”
Rosemary glanced up towards the urban patchwork high above, squinting to make out what Sunala was looking at, “I'm sorry, Milady, I don't quite follow.”
“There,” Sunala pointed, still walking, “Sandlethorn, capital of Dwenmari.”
“The Kingdom of the Gnomes?”
“Indeed,” Sunala said, “Usually it's lit up as bright as the moon. But not now. I wonder why that is...”
“Maybe they all got tired,” Rosemary said.
Sunala was quiet. “Perhaps,” she said.
They were small observations. The temperature of the night. The cities above them, and the people who lived within. Lines of campfires on other Landmasses that had not been there before.
“Armies on the move,” she said, “We live in interesting times, Rosemary.”
“Yeah,” she said.
Something always distracted Sunala as they went. She was as curious as a cat, and even the grasslands around them, boring as they were to Rosemary, gave her something to observe. Yet the only time she ever stopped was when the Inner Sun lit Moadma once more. She stopped, turning to observe the mirror-like disc dip into existence, flaring to life and shining, a single bright eye. Rosemary, who had fallen a hair back ,jogged to catch up to her, each step creating aches that thundered up her legs. Sunala turned to her.
“Almost there, love,” she said, “Where are... Urash and the others?”
“Still back there,” Rosemary said, catching her breath, “Urash fainted a bit of a ways back, I think. I think Spinlock and Nelthel are a bit behind us, too.”
She could see in the distance Spinlock holding the dwarf on his mountainous back.
“There they are,” Rosemary said.
“Good,” Sunala said, “Apologies about your friend there.”
“He's a mage and a merchant,” Rosemary said, “He doesn't get out much, unless it's by wagon.”
“I'm surprised you didn't bring one,” Sunala said.
“We, ah,” Rosemary laughed a bit, “We did.”
“Oh,” Sunala blushed a bit, “And you left it behind at Kelphaven?”
“Along with our krem, Juicebox,” Rosemary said, “You went off just like that, and Urash followed, and so I thought you knew!”
“I didn't!” Sunala said, becoming redder, “I didn't know! Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry.”
“It's okay!” Rosemary said, “Just worried about Juicebox, is all.”
“I'll arrange for your krem and wagon to be brought back to Castle Belenus,” Sunala said.
“Right, yeah,” Rosemary turned to watch the Inner Sun crest over the sky. She suppressed a yawn. Now that she'd gotten a moment to rest, the adrenaline was seeping out of her system...
“Shall we move on?” Sunala asked.
Gods! This woman couldn't be real! “We'd better.”
***
As it stood, Joseph had been up most of the night as well – requisitioned by Becenti to do more research on the dead plane. Books were piled around him, journals and secondary research on the various metahuman kingdoms of the multiverse.
“Most of them are contraband, Mr. Zheng,” Becenti had said, “They are not to leave the library.”
“Which means I can't leave the library,” Joseph replied.
“Indeed. You will need to know as much of the history of metahumanity as you can before we go to the dead plane. I'll have someone check up on you periodically, perhaps give you enough food and water to survive.”
A light smirk played on his face. Joseph rolled his eyes at the bad joke.
But his words had been true. Barbara – perhaps in revenge for the twisting of her wing to get the spiced milk for Chadwick, wouldn't let him leave if he held a book in his hands. Perhaps she didn't hear Becenti correctly – or perhaps she was interpreting his words forward another step, as whenever Joseph rose up to take a break, a journal in hand, she stopped him at the door.
“No books outside the library,” she hissed.
“Just going for a quick coffee break,” Joseph said, “That's all.”
“Not with the book, you're not.”
So Joseph had to leave the book behind. But as he poured himself a cup in the dining hall, Becenti intercepted him.
“How goes the reading, Mr. Zheng?”
“Well enough, I guess,” Joseph said.
Becenti nodded, “Tell me: who was the first queen of Malduvia?”
“Malduvia?”
Becenti shook his head, “An amateur question, Mr. Zheng. Something a third-grader would answer, like knowing who the first president of the United States was.”
“...George Washington?”
“Martha Washington, Mr. Zheng,” Becenti countered, “Best you get back to reading, eh?”
“Why are you having me do all this?” Joseph asked, “Do you even know the dead plane's a metahuman one?”
“Reasonably,” Becenti said, “What, you don't want to learn about your history? Your culture?”
Something about Becenti's words unsettled Joseph, but he ignored it, looking at his cup of coffee.
“It's a lot to take in, to be honest,” he said.
Becenti relaxed a bit, “I know. And it's... Well, I suppose it's alright to say it doesn't feel like this whole life is yours. But it is, no matter how you look at it, and no matter what you do. You can't turn your back on that.”
“Then why are you having me read all this now?” Joseph asked, “I mean, I'd be better off helping the rest of the guild prepare, gathering supplies and all that.”
“Well, the fact of the matter is,” Becenti said, “Wakeling and I decided that the team you're with needs a metahuman expert. You're assigned to the team who will be scouting ahead the farthest during the expedition.”
“And Nash doesn't know enough?”
“That, and we need someone who is an expert and is a metahuman,” Becenti said, “There are certain places in these old ruins that only react to the metagene. Doors will only open when they react to your DNA. Certain databases will be offline unless you're there, with no easy way to turn them on. That’s why we’re in separate groups.”
“And you want me to know what I'm doing while I'm out there, and not relying on Nash the whole time.”
“Precisely,” Becenti smiled, “Now, get to reading, Mr. Zheng. I expect you to know at least the basics before we leave for the expedition.”
So Joseph returned to the library, coffee in hand, sipping it periodically as he read into the night. He read of Epochia, and the kingdoms within its makeup. Of the wars with the Federation and with each other, of the Seven Hundred Leaders of Metahumanity, of the kingdoms that rose to prominence and held vast swathes of the multiverse in their hands – hands there were claws, were made of stone, that glowed neon in the darkness.
By the time he was drifting, he at least knew who the first queen of Malduvia was.
***
“Joseph!” Phineas rasped, “Joseph! Awaken!”
“Mm,” Joseph groaned, “Naw.”
“If you do not, I will cast a spell on you!”
“Sure, man,” Joseph murmured.
He shouted in shock as the Deep One's heavy book slammed against his head like a paper sledgehammer.
“Ow! Phineas! Stop!”
“I am sorry,” Phineas tucked the book back beneath his arm, “But Becenti, he said to awaken you. And I did not want to cast a spell and make you go insane.”
“S'alright,” Joseph said.
He blinked, his vision bleary and wet. He had fallen asleep in the library, his cheek pressed against an open book on the Third War of Reconciliation. Light shone in from the outside, filtered orange by the stained glass. The guild was alive around him, the hustle and bustle of the early morning a bit busier than normal. There was an energetic energy to everyone that was out of place. Joseph noted Broon coming through, wearing a royal purple cape that draped over his missing arm.
“What's going on?” he asked Phineas, and noted the Deep One seemed to have been polishing his scales.
“The Lady,” Phineas said, “She's here.”
“The... Lady?” Joseph thought.
Then it hit him.
The Lady Sunala.
“Shit,” he said. He scrambled to his feet, patting himself down, “How do I look?”
“Like a human.”
“Barbara!” Joseph called to the great toucan, who was preening her feathers by a mirror on the second floor, “Barbara, how do I look?”
“Fine enough,” Barbara said, “Though perhaps I'm not the best judge...?”
“I'll assume I look awful, then,” Joseph said. People in the main hall were already crowding around someone. Joseph watched as Wakeling floated down from the top floor in style towards someone in the center of the mass that Joseph couldn't see.
“The Lady Sunala has arrived,” Phineas said.
“Right,” Joseph began organizing the table in front of him, compiling the various scattered papers and journals he had haphazardly spread around the place, “Right, not sure what to do-”
He heard movement. He glanced up.
“And this is the Library,” Wakeling was telling Sunala, “Where you will be spending a good time amount of time-”
The entire guild was there. As was Lady Sunala – an elven woman in a tattered dress, as though she had been hiking here since the night before. Yet she hardly looked weary. Instead, the light of curiosity dazzled in her eyes. Wakeling glanced over at Joseph.
“Ah, and these are Mr. Zheng and Mr. Phineas, who will be joining us on the expedition,” she said.
“Greetings,” Phineas said.
Joseph felt the entire room's eyes on him. He gulped and said, “Hey.”
“Doing a bit of light reading, Mr. Zheng?” the Lady Sunala asked.
“A... A bit,” Joseph said, “Nothing major. Just metahuman shi- things.”
“Hmm,” Sunala nodded, glancing down at the book, “The Wars of Reconciliation?”
Joseph nodded.
“Milady,” Wakeling said, “Perhaps we should be moving on? You must be exhausted after your journey.”
“Not really,” Sunala said, “Though I would fancy some privacy, if you will. Though please, bring a few of the books the young Zheng is reading for me. I'd like to take a look at them.”
“Of course, of course,” Wakeling chuckled, “Right this way.”
Her head spun to address the rest of the guild, “The rest of you: Back to work.”
They began dispersing, going back to their regular duties, though a few of them stuck around in the Main Hall, talking among themselves. Rosemary was among them, trudging over to Joseph's table, deep rings set under her eyes. She wilted as she sat down, forehead dipping down to rest on the oaken tabletop.
“Long night?” Joseph asked.
“You've no idea,” Rosemary said, “She had us going all night 'til we got to the city. I think Urash is still out there, left behind like a leaf on the wind.”
“Christ,” Joseph murmured.
She turned her head to the side, eyes glancing up at him, “You?”
“Becenti's got me reading all about metahumanity.”
“Bleh, reading.”
“Yeah,” Joseph leaned back, rubbing his eyes, “Guess I fell asleep somewhere around four. Phin, what time is it?”
Phineas had seated himself beside Joseph, thinking for a moment, “The Inner Sun shines, so it is day.”
“Thanks, Phin.”
“A joke. It is seven in the morning,” Phineas amended.
“Great,” Joseph blinked, “I'd love to take more of a nap, but Becenti said I'd need to be at least halfway decent at this metahuman shit before we leave, so I can't really sleep, can I?”
“No, perhaps not,” Phineas said, “Perhaps I will get some coffee.”
“Good idea,” Joseph said, “Get me some, will you?”
“Of course,” Phineas turned, “Rosemary...?”
But she was already asleep.
“Maybe just coffee for the two of us,” Joseph said.
“Yes, perhaps that is best,” Phineas replied.
He waddled off out of the library. Joseph gave another yawn, and opened his book back up.
Another day in paradise.