To know your Enemy, you must become your Enemy.

Pre-Fall Strategist.

“You won’t be required to attend the other sessions,” Wexler told Johanna, immediately adding, “Although you might be called for if they have a specific question they want you, and no one else, to answer.”

“How long is this going to take?”

“My guess? At least a couple of weeks. We have gotten a few States worried, though, so it is moving. But having the Union as a whole acting against one of the members is not... it is unprecedented.

“There is a mechanism, but it’s based on expelling the State from the Union, requiring a three-fourth majority. Without that, moving unilaterally against the Montana is doomed to failure.”

Johanna made a grimace.

“We’ll have support. Enough to be effective. I’ll have an escort for you, of course.”

Really?

“In case there is a problem, and we need to know quickly,” Wexler added, showing he’d spotted her frown.

“But for now, well, you’re free to go around. Enjoy the stay in Nashville. All I can tell you is that it will take some time. Hopefully not next year because I can’t really afford to stay here either.”

She looked at Wexler, who was heading straight toward a side hallway, just in time to see Katia Michaelson come out and meet him.

“So, what do you want to do?” Ulrich said, rejoining them.

“Probably, as he said. Sightsee Nashville?”

She stopped.

“I have an idea. They probably know at the Residence.”

The Residence did indeed know, and she and Laura got a guard from the Senator’s staff to escort them, which was better, as the man didn’t really need a map of Nashville to find an address.

This is how they found themselves on a side street with many five-story buildings and in front of a door with multiple copper engraved plates with names.

The third floor had two different plates. One was “Frederick & Muriel Remodels”, and the other was “Society of the Sorcerers and Sorceresses of the Americas”.

The two and their guard started climbing the stairs, but to Johanna’s surprise, the third floor had only a single door. She exchanged a look with Laura, then knocked on the door.

Almost immediately came an answer, “open, come in.”

Johanna pushed open the door and found a very short hallway leading straight into a large and well-lit room. The room was full of three things.

Chairs.

Shelves.

And paper. The large table behind which the only occupant of the room was seated was full of all sorts of papers strewn around, not just on the table but pinned on the wall, left on chairs, and, well, everywhere. Johanna had a look and saw what looked like pencil drawings. It wasn’t too hard to find out the source, the woman who’d welcomed them in still had a pencil in her hand and was finishing yet another drawing.

She dropped the pencil, stood up, and swept up a few of the drawings from chairs, pulling them next to the table.

“Sit up, sit up. So, what can I do for you?”

Before Johanna could even respond, she added, “Note that we do have a four-month pipeline for the actual remodeling. So, nothing before April next year.”

“Uh… we are not there to… well, whatever remodeling entails?”

“Really?”

“Yes?”

She looked at both of them and the guard.

“Sorry, but two young women with good dresses and fancy Ancient fashion, bodyguard. You do look like clients for interior remodeling.”

“Ah, no. Definitely not that.”

“Well, we’re the best in Nashville, you know. Old and grand cities like Nashville are hell for real estate. When you’re up and coming, moving to a new and better place is almost impossible, so remodeling it is, and my husband and I have both the talent to make your interior, your lair, exactly as you want it to be.”

“Well, we were coming for the Society.”

“Ah. Oh.”

The woman straightened and raised her hand, moving as if she were shifting an invisible hat or something.

“Then, allow me. Sandra Muriel-Frederick, secretary of the Society of Sorcerers and Sorceresses of the Americas and current editor of the Mages of Americas and Beyond, at your service. By the way, did you know the new edition is out this year? You can find it or maybe get a bargain price for the previous one in almost every bookstore in Nashville. Can’t sell it directly due to publishing agreement, but if you want a signed edition, you can bring it, and I’ll be happy to dedicate it.”

“Well, yes, we’ve seen the eleventh at the house we’re staying at. I’m well familiar with the tenth, though. That was the first edition I saw, and I got a copy at home.”

Far away, in New Sandusky.

“Well, well, what can I do for you, then? The Society always welcomes new supporting members, and we have light yearly dues. There are not many expenses; the Society actually owns this floor and has done that for over seventy years. I just use it as an office so it’s convenient to switch between my jobs. Like now.”

“Dues?”

“Well, all supporting members of the Society contribute. We try to invite all the Sorcerers every ten years or so, but there are so few of them. There’s about thirty-five living in the Union, and that’s all. Of course, they all are automatically members, without dues, and the only ones with voting power. Like, I can’t legally do anything with the floor, not even remodeling, without a vote from the Society. So, this is about $20 a…”

Johanna raised her hand to stave the flood.

“I think we should have started by introducing ourselves. My name’s Johanna Milton, and this is Laura Donnall.”

Sandra stopped, and her mouth froze in an ‘O’ shape.

There were four glasses, and she’d pulled out a weirdly shaped bottle full of a weirdly sickly green liquid, insisting that even the bodyguard was allowed one.

“Sorry, not on duty.”

“Your loss. This is fine stuff, straight from the dwarven distilleries of the Sawatch in True Colorado. No one not of dwarven stock is allowed to know what it’s made from, although my sister-in-law swears it’s distilled grape brandy with at least half a dozen of herbs added before ageing. Probably harvested from a mana zone, which gives it the unique flavor.”

Johanna took a sip, and the bite was harsh… and absolutely flavorful. She couldn’t even begin to guess what went in it. Well, worst case, Laura would have to Cleanse Toxins later. Alcohol itself did not seem to count, but the by-products would.

“I knew I should have followed Elena’s advice. She told me to wait a while, and she’d visit with you before I locked the new edition.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. But she stopped sending anything after her last message about your tiering up. And she didn’t answer my messages either. News in the press seemed to say that the war had heated back and, well, you were mentioned as being in the armies of the Marches. So… I assumed you might have been killed there. So, even if it wouldn’t be possible to confirm…”

She shrugged.

“I’m not a confirmed sorceress or a sorceress, period, but I can do the formal confirmation. Perks of the station as secretary and editor, and all that kind of thing. Although, if you could…”

Johanna stopped and realized what the chatterbox of a secretary was asking. She turned her palm up and flexed.

“Whoa. Definitively big. Bigger than previously recorded. She wasn’t lying.”

“Actually, I think it was smaller when she reported it. It… grew again, later.”

And you wouldn’t believe where it did. In the middle of the largest Library in the world, straight in the deadliest mana zone of the continent.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“How large is that flame? For the record. Oh, wait a sec…”

She scrambled under the table and pulled a copy of the Mages of America, whose coloring indicated the new 11th edition. She unerringly opened it to a page and grabbed a pencil. When Johanna looked surprised, she explained.

“I use one as a note for changes in the next edition. Plus additional paper inserts, of course. The reference for the flaming hand needs more data. It’s commonly seen but with all sorts of variations.”

“Ah. It’s 9 inches and a bit, then. And around 1300°F.”

Sandra scribbled furiously, and before Johanna could add any detail, she turned toward Laura.

“And you? I should, I don’t know, brace myself or something? Dreadful gaze is reported to be nasty.”

Laura shrugged and looked at Sandra. She pushed back her chair, her eyes going wide, gulping. Johanna noted the surprised look of the guard, but of course, he wasn’t in front of Laura and couldn’t even guess what was going on.

“I think that’s okay,” Sandra whispered.

“Don’t sweat it,” Laura told her. “Even soldiers have problems with Falter, even with their training.”

“Falter?”

“Yes. That’s the official name. Not as fancy as the dreadful gaze, I agree, but it’s descriptive.”

Sandra frowned.

“Hey, I’m not the one who picked the name.”

“Well, name or not, congratulations on being confirmed. So, you’re tier 6?”

Laura and Johanna exchanged gazes.

How to tell her?

“Not exactly. I’m a bit… higher,” Laura admitted.

“Oh?”

“How much did we clock it in New Sandusky, Jo?”

“The guard stopped at… seven hours? They said they weren’t taking it anymore. There is something about being deathly afraid for hours upon end that doesn’t fit people.”

“So, a bit over seven hours,” she directed at Sandra, whose frown was deepening.

Johanna wasn’t about to let Laura get the upper hand.

“I still beat you. Eight hours and over with the Fire Handling.”

“And you get cramps at the end.”

Sandra’s eyes moved between the two repeatedly before she frowned even deeper.

“Are you joking? I mean, I can confirm you’re the ones in the official register, but… eight HOURS?”

“We’ve grown a bit since you got that last letter from Elena,” Johanna added, then she sprang her surprise.

Sandra backed up, her eyes growing as she looked at the Burning Orb a couple of feet above her desk. Even from there, Johanna assumed she could feel the heat coming up, so she turned it off to avoid setting fire to all the papers around.

“That’s Burning Orb. My latest Talent, after we left the Marches.”

She turned and looked at the guard who’d drawn his sword.

“No worries, that’s me. Next…”

She looked around, finding a safe direction, and took the slightest breath, expelling an ultra-short puff of cloud that seemed almost innocuous.

“Steam Breath. Nasty stuff, too. Perfect for melting snow in the wilderness or… melting faces off bandits.”

She grimaced at the memory.

“I’m not even trying to demonstrate Cinder Circle or Fireball. These would wreck the Society’s headquarters.”

Sandra was trying to speak and somehow, incredibly, failing, her jaw moving up and down.

“You have EIGHT Talents?”

“No, actually seven. I lost Earthbind – sorry, ground lock as you call it – and got it replaced by Fireball.”

“But no one ever lost a Talent. That’s impossible… but those two…”

Johanna could tell Sandra’s brain was melting or something. The Society secretary tried to think about what she’d seen until she stopped.

She bent over the table, grabbed the still-untouched glass for the guard, and brought it in front of her, gulping it almost entirely.

“Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Tell me… tell me everything. How is that possible?”

Here we go again.

“We don’t actually break the rules, as much as we… stretch them,” she started with. “But when we’re involved, things go differently than expected. First off, what we do is something nearly anyone could potentially do. It’s just that almost no one managed to get there and stumble upon the perfect combination. But if you know and can… well, tier 6 archmages with three Talents… we call them beginner sorcerers.”

If Sandra still had any of that dwarven liquor in her mouth, she would probably have spewed it in shock.

“Three Talents and over an hour of continuous casting is something anyone, and I mean anyone, could potentially achieve at 18,” she pursued. “And it only goes up from there when you get the Talents as soon as possible instead of lucking out on them. We had two, I think, eighteen months ago. Three a few weeks after. Four when we were drafted; that’s when you got the messages from Elena. Five by the end of the year. And well, now we’re at seven since the end of summer.”

Sandra grabbed her weird bottle and poured another glass, although she didn’t immediately jump on it.

“Granted, we’re a bit of an extreme case. But archmages, we know a lot of them. Laura, how many so far?”

“Catherine in the Montana, metal? Petra, of course, earth. Miles, metal, too. Ulrich wood. Jorieke is earth, and Uther Wilkins is water. Weird for a cook, but that ice cream was the… top. Then Jackson, who’s full fire now, and guardsman Alten for earth again. And all those in Vernon.”

“The thing is, it is possible to make people sorcerers. To grant them Talents, without being tributary to the whims of luck,” Johanna said.

“But how? Would Artifacts help? I don’t know, maybe they can help get a Talent?”

“Why do you think that?” Johanna replied, intrigued.

“I know the Erlangs use those as tokens to help their kids get Talents. There were two in the Society. The Burning Walker and another, Feixing. They think if you’re exposed to an Artifact as you grow up, it will be easier to gain a Talent later.”

Johanna shook her head in denegation.

“I don’t think so. The requirements for a Talent are fairly fixed and measurable. Having an Artifact won’t change those. In fact, Artifacts seem to duplicate Talents, and they neutralize each other. If you have a Talent that’s the same as an Artifact, then you can’t use your Talent or the Artifact.”

She wondered briefly about that. Would holding an Artifact block your ability to use a parchment for the same Talent? They had never tested that. They’d accumulated a lot of Artifacts for protection and occasional use but never needed to check, even when they knew specific Talents that matched those.

“Then how? If Talents can be unlocked, why… it would change everything.”

“It’s a bit more involved than you’d expect, but…”

She pulled her wildcard. They hadn’t brought all four of the parchments made from Wexler’s book to the Senate, and she’d kept the last Authority one, in case.

In her experience, everyone without a history of parchment absorption could activate one of those basic qualities versions, no matter what. Knowing better about costs from her sojourn in Moore’s realm, she had no difficulty accepting that.

“This is what we use to do it. This one does not have a Talent on it, but it can be used as a prop to get a Talent later.”

Sandra looked at the exotic parchment and then took it. Unsurprisingly, it lit up, the usual blue streaks of light coursing along the lines until they started rotating around the center, with the Authority bizarrely lettered word being regularly highlighted. Instead of dropping it, which oftentimes happened, Sandra’s grip tightened.

“You will feel like you need to confirm something. By the way, I would like very much to keep it, so don’t accept it. We have nothing to follow up with, so it’ll be wasted on you.”

There might be an Ancient book somewhere in the chaos that was Sandra’s office, but she also had strict orders to keep the actual source of the parchments under wraps. Independence would try to get as many of them out of the market before the news came out and the rush began.

“I’ve heard of bizarre artifacts, but this one is even stranger.”

“If it included a Talent and you could activate it, then you would gain the Talent. And with a proper specialization, you’d become a sorceress rather than a simple adept. Or a Heroine. Or a Saint. Depending on what path you’d be able to take.”

“You are not bullshitting me, are you? This is real?”

“Yes. Twelve-fifteen parchments, and you’re near our power level. For all the archmages Laura mentioned, we provided the parchments to make them. Along with as many Heroes and a few Saints.”

“You make them? You don’t just find them? With that Mana Sight of yours?”

Johanna had to reflect again on the fact that, despite their similarity to Artifacts, the parchments didn’t draw in mana and didn’t disturb it. Even when people activated them, even when she made them, her Mana Sight did not see anything. The blue light she associated with mana was visible to all in that case.

She started to explain the principles and goals behind the Talent House. How they’d intended it to become a source of Talents to beat against the wilderness created by the Fall, the threat of the mana zones, and their Changed beasts. While the plan was now suspended, if they won this war, if they managed to neutralize the Warden, then the plan could restart. Probably in a slightly different way. At best, they’d restart the company’s operations under some form of control from the government. Ulrich had spoken the word “regulation”, making it very obviously a dirty word.

At worst, it would become a government institution, with the four of them the core agents. But Ulrich was pretty sure Independence would never be able to keep it under wraps. The war would tell anyone paying attention that there was a way to turn people into Talented, if nothing else, and that was done right here in Independence State. Keeping it a state monopoly would trigger… well, the Fifth War of Unification.

It was a grim possibility, but they were in a position to shut that down if it happened. Once the emergency passed, if they stopped making parchments, if Moore didn’t cooperate, Wexler would fail at that.

“Hundreds of Sorcerers.”

“Next year, certainly.”

Johanna hesitated. So far, no one had heard of the impending war. In fact, it was still theoretical – everyone acted as if the Warden would rush to press his advantage. She thought it likely, too, but things could change.

Sandra poured another glass from her dwarven bottle. Somehow, the content of the glass disappeared mid-conversation.

Any more of that, and Laura might need to do something.

“The Society… is obsolete. That’s what you mean.”

“Besides, it was always a special case. Heroes and Saints are basically the same, just with a different path. That’s why Laura looked bizarre – she mixes Talents that some claim are the province of Saints and some that are sorcerous. But it is actually the same thing.”

“You know, there’s a famous scholar of Talents right here in Nashville, and he did theorize the same thing.”

“Professor Gomez? No kidding – he basically wrote the reference we use to make someone Talented.”

“You know Gomez?”

“He went with us on an expedition this summer. We were… working on the raw materials for the parchments. He got enough to make a fairly advanced guide to how and when to have Talents.”

“I need to talk to him, absolutely!”

“Wait, he’s still there?”

“Uh, why wouldn’t he? He’s teaching at the Nashville Academy of Physics.”

“We were told he had problems and got kidnapped. That’s not true?”

“Uh… I don’t know. I mean, I haven’t spoken with him for a long time.”

“When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“Last… September? He was just back from some book expedition and seemed to be pretty excited about new theories. I just had finished the final edited copy of the eleventh edition, and it was going to the printers already, so I told him that whatever he wrote, it might go in the twelfth, but that didn’t seem to be a problem. ‘it’s too early, I need time to pick the right subjects anyway’ he said…. Wait, the expedition…?”

“Was ours, yes. So, yes. He seems to have disappeared.”

“Oh, no. That’s terrible.”

“He had parchments to work with. Somebody found out and kidnapped him to find out what he knew, we think happened.”

Sandra slumped. She seemed to realize that her world had ended. Or at least half of her world – the remodeling business was not going to be touched by the upcoming Talent War.

Maybe if there are craftsmen Talents used, Johanna realized. That was one of the topics Gomez was interested in – the obvious parts were Talents could be used to make things instead of fighting and some of the slightly exotic specializations that seemed to be outside of the regular quality-based sets. Fusion, the Talent that had been given to Catherine, was nearly useless for combat, except for burning up people’s ringmail at very close range, but for a crafter?

“I don’t think we’re seeing the twelfth edition,” Johanna told her friend as they descended the stairs.

They’d left the slightly slumped woman with glass and bottle. She was doodling things – Johanna hadn’t seen what – as they excused themselves, a morose expression on her face.

“No. But she cares about that stuff, obviously. It’s not just an office that can be used for free.”

“You know what I think?”

“No?”

“Nashville branch.”

Laura looked at her, then realized what was implied.

“It’s not for now. But later, we’ll eventually need some presence here, even if they don’t need a real force. There are mana zones south, but far away, and almost no Changed beast roaming. But, well, it’s the Union capital,” Johanna said.

“It’s not just to give her a job?”

“No. But if she’s already the kind of person you’d need for managing a branch, why not? I’ll have a word with Ulrich.”