Serena stepped into one of the exquisite upper balconies of the Portia council chambers, where an immaculately uniformed usher threw a derisive glance at the road dust on her skirts. The man then noticed the winding blue tattoos on her hands and went pale, quickly shuffling out of view.
Each of the five tiers of the chamber was filled with observers, while down below, a host of important looking individuals filed in and took their seats at a round table. Serena 's attention was drawn to a short young woman with a bald head wearing a brown robe tied at the waist with black rope. If that wasn’t the thief she had seen in the arcanist conservatory on Mir, then it was her twin sister. The question was, what was she doing here? Konrad had been obscure about the girls' fate, and Serena had put it down as half a mystery; it seemed now she would discover the second half.
Two more figures entered the hall, and Serena had to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle an incredulous burst of laughter. The old sailor, Briarstone, must have cut a deal with an ancient sea titan because he looked every bit a Lord of the Ocean. He stood tall and proud, and his beard was shaved, revealing a square chin like a piece of granite. His long gray hair was neatly pulled back and tied behind his neck in the style of the islanders on Halfstone, and he wore an exquisitely tailored suit that looked at the same time suitable for a high society dance and also hardy enough for a duel to the death.
If Briarstone’s transformation was surprising, then Renau’s was utterly astounding, and as he swept into the chamber, every head turned his way. He was a lord in full bloom of youth, a grave-faced warrior, a deep-seeing philosopher, and a tireless scholar. He was all of these things at once, and Serena could feel herself leaning forward, captivated. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. His skill wasn’t magical, but all the same, she had to fight to resist the pull of his charisma.
"The Lost Coast Council convenes to appoint its leader," one of the attendants declared. The chatter in the room evaporated, and a nervous silence rolled out over the chamber.
Issie leaned over delicately to whisper to the attendant, and the young man gazed at her with a rapturous look of forlorn desperation. The girl clearly had powerful innate magic of the kind that could not be taught, just like Malan and his small eye and the Wikkan Seat with her ability to read the story of a life in the lines of a palm.
The announcer was still clearly transfixed by Issie and she gave him an encouraging nod of her head. "In a change to precedent, it is the council's most distinct pleasure, and personally the most profound honor of my life, to call on our first speaker, the First Priest of the Prior, Iss–"
The announcer's voice faltered as Renau stood up, and a ripple of silence spread through the chamber like a drop of water on a still pond. The dashing captain Renau that Serena had known during their adventures to the north and west of Parthanea was nowhere to be seen, in his place stood a proud statesman, who exuded the gravity of his position like the cold inevitability of a glacier. Faced with this, Issies' spell over the attendant shattered, and the poor man promptly sat down with a puzzled frown. Serena almost applauded.
All eyes in the room were now locked onto Reanu, and he accepted their attention with humility, grace, satisfaction, or entitlement. He was all things to all people; whatever each of them wanted to see in him, was exactly what they saw.
"I am Ignatious Delaney," he began, laying down a family name that was known from one end of the Lost Coast to the other like a winning hand in a card game.
Issie fumed and hissed at the attendant, and Serena knew she was seeing the girls' magic being utterly undone by the skill of the trouper. For his part, the attendant wilted. No one would contest Ignatious Delaney speaking first; why would they? It was perfectly normal that he should. They couldn’t tell you why, but it was. Right?
"Citizens, councilors, dear friends," Renau intoned, glancing up to look Serena directly in the eye and winking.
He actually winked in the middle of this act he winked, and still no one noticed!
"I come most humbly to this council, only wishing to serve our fair city in her time of peril. We must put aside the petty differences of the past and select a new leader."
He held the entire chamber in his thrall, the heads of the listeners nodding like hens pecking for seeds.
"Our new leader must be knowledgeable of our ways, our customs, and our history, and at the same time be in possession of a tender touch to maintain the fragile peace that we seek."
As he spoke, Renau gestured like a conductor, and the heads of the audience bobbed up and down to the rhythm of his words.
"A new leader, yes, but one who comes from the old stock of the Lost Coast. Someone who has paid in blood and sacrificed to protect our modest province. Someone old, his gray hair tossed by the ocean winds, and his sometimes bloodthirsty comments only a crude attempt to disguise a tender, empathetic nature."
The nodding continued around the room, but behind Renau, Briarstone’s brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed.
"This man will have a name that is carved into the very stones of his hallowed chamber, just like his face seems carved from a craggy bluff by a half-blind seashore scavenger. A name that is uttered from here to Helgan’s Rest, a man who has matched word with deed."
Briarstone began to shift uncomfortably in his seat.
"A leader who did not seek leadership. My father, before he died. Made me swear to take this bitter, husk of a once great man, and help him to realise his duty."
Briarstone tried to stand up, but Renau reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. To everyone else in the chamber, it seemed like Renau was leaning on the older man for support, and Serena almost laughed out loud, knowing that Renau was actually forcing Briarstone to remain seated so he could not interrupt.
"I nominate Sten Halfstone as the leader of the Lost Coast Council. There really is no other nominee to make the Lost Coast great again," Renau concluded.
The magic of his words swept around the chamber, and Serena was the first to enthusiastically clap her hands together. Her applause was eagerly picked up by everyone in attendance, except the girl with the black hair, who was glaring daggers at Renau. But there was nothing she could do; her innate magical powers were no match for the skill of the trouper.
Renau swept from the chamber, and as Briarstone tried to follow him, the old sailor was swamped by well-wishers and a dozen clerks holding bunches of paper for his attention.
Serena fought her way through the crowds and found Renau waiting outside for her, holding a small flower to his nose.
"So, Ignatius Delaney?" She asked.
"To you, I will always be Renau," he replied, handing Serena the small bloom.
"That was a mean trick you played on Briarstone," Serena said.
Renau gave a satisfied smile. "Did you see his face? We both know it was the right thing to do; can you imagine me having to keep up the pretense? My jaw is already sore from acting so seriously the whole time. Briarstone has a natural advantage there, as his face always looks like that. On a brighter note, I now have all the time in the world to spend with you. I suppose I should have expected you would be back; I might as well take the door off of the hinges."
"What do you mean?"
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"Konrad was bringing all sorts of strays through the mansion in the last couple of weeks. First there was a skinny priest and then a blond woman who looked like she chewed gravel for breakfast."
"You said, was. Where’s Konrad now?"
Renau gave an uncomfortable grimace. "A week ago, he left a note to say he was going to the East alone."
"And you just let him go?"
"I’m afraid I was quite distracted by everything that was going on here."
Renau explained the machinations of the Lost Coast Council and the rise of the so-called church of the priory. He and Briarstone had been working tirelessly for weeks, bribing, cajoling, and threatening where necessary, both to halt the influence of the Priory and to maneuver for control of the Lost Coast Council.
By the time he had finished explaining, they had arrived at a large mansion in the middle of the city of Portia, where a party of workers were packing up piles of timber and tools. The whole place looked brand new, except for the red-splattered paint on the front door.
"The father is a basterd," Serena read aloud, giving Renau a questioning glance.
"I’m leaving that there for posterity," Renau explained, entering the house and flopping down on the sofa. "So what are you here for, my witchy friend?"
Serena reached into her satchel and pulled out the heavy Hedron.
Renau looked at the object with a calm expression, but when he spoke, there was tension in his voice. "I see, and I assume our favorite dwarven artisan is nearby?"
"I dropped him in a tavern by the docks; he said he was going to find us a forge to use."
"This tavern wasn’t called "The Aye of the Storm," was it?" Renau asked.
"I think it was actually."
Renau sighed and made for the door. "Come on, we might not be too late."
Serena and Renau tracked Paabo down to a small forge two streets back from the docks. The sound of pounding hammers rang out, and sparks flew from the small workspaces.
Despite the heat in the forge, Paabo was wearing a thick traveling cloak with the hood pulled low over his face and strangely he didn’t greet them, instead continuing to beat a piece of iron furiously with a huge hammer.
"Paabo, what’s wrong?’ Serena asked.
Beside her, Renau was not even attempting to hide his smile. "Show us Paabo; get it over with."
Serena looked from one to the other, nonplussed, and Paabo slowly pulled off his hood, revealing a soot stained face and a freshly shaved head, his wiry dwarven hair left around the sides like a whiskery crown.
"What in all of dwarfdom is the priory?" he growled.
-
Paabo toiled for three days, and in the early morning of the fourth day, the stones of the forge gently clinked as they cooled. The completed Hedron sat on the benchtop, the final piece waiting to be slotted back into position.
Serena had watched the dwarf work with a furious intensity, and he looked like he had aged a decade. She couldn’t help but feel guilty that she had dragged him back into an adventure that he wanted no part of.
"Where will you go now?" Serena asked.
"I’m going to the East. All this adventuring makes you realize that some of us are better suited to staying home, if you know what I mean."
"I don’t know how I can thank you, Paabo," Serena began, but the dwarf silenced her with a gentle gesture.
"I didn’t want to tell you before now, as I could see you were hurting. I only met your friend Jena once, you know, but she was a wonderful lady, very kind. She inspired me to want to do something good, so it’s nice to know I played my part."
"There’s more work to do," Renau said, from where he leaned on the doorway.
But Paabo shook his head. "Home time," he said, and with a final farewell, he hoisted his pack and slipped out into the quiet morning.
"Then there were two," Serena said, picking up the Hedron.
"No time like the present," Renau replied, holding the door open.
While Paabo had toiled away, Serena and Renau had been sequestered in the dusty archives of the Delaney family. Their research into the location of mysterious gateways had been frustratingly slow. Due to the general distrust of anything related to magic in the region, any mention of Faelen or the Echo had been removed. The closest they got were sailors' records of mysterious windows over the ocean that led to other lands, but even these had been amended or partially scratched out.
It wasn’t until Paabo opened up the Hedron that they found a clue. A minuscule stamp of an owl had been punched into the soft gold of the open section, and as soon as Renau saw the tiny figure, he knew where to go.
Locally, it was referred to as the "Owl Spire," and like the Faelen and the Echo, its origins had been scrubbed from the historical records of the region. At one time it must have stood proudly at the mouth of the river, but now the stone was crumbling and a small tree sprouted out about half way up its length. Throughout its history, it had been, at various times, a lighthouse, a defensive position for the harbor, and a storehouse for grain. Now the crenelations on the top had crumbled away, and a dozen families of owls lived at the top, although many claim that they had always been there.
"My brother was obsessed with this place, so my father bought it for him." Renau explained. He put a heavy metal key in the lock, and it squeaked in rusty protest as he turned it.
The inside was large enough for around a dozen people to stand, and the whole space was empty all the way up to the top, where a meager amount of daylight managed to filter down through the crumbling roof.
"As I said, there’s not much here, and certainly no gateway," Renau said, picking idly at a pile of broken tiles on the floor.
"You have to think like a magic user; gateways are just a description for an opening between two spaces; they can look like anything," Serena replied.
Renau grasped a handful of the creeping vines that had grown up the wall and stripped them away, while Serena kicked away some of the debris on the flagstones. After an hour of searching, Serena was feeling frustrated; she was so close to fulfilling Jena’s goal, but she didn’t have enough information.
Renau had given up and was sitting on a fallen stone with his head down, idly scratching on the floor with a stick. "There must be someone who knows about these things," he said for the hundredth time.
But as Serena had already explained, she had no one to turn to. It was clear most of the witches couldn’t be trusted; Magra was the only one who had been aware of what she was doing, and Serena had last seen her being taken into the abyssal realm. The arcanists were even less likely to help her. They would take the Hedron for themselves, and she would be sidelined.
"There is one option, but it's not my first choice," Serena said.
"At this point, I’m willing for you to try anything."
"It’s more about giving him the satisfaction," Serena muttered.
Having no other option, he called for Harper the imp.
"This is becoming a bit of a habit, isn’t it? Hello fancy man," Harper said, nodding to Renau.
The imp flapped into the air and gazed around at the tower. "So which of my remarkable set of skills are you requiring today?"
Serena rolled her eyes. "We’re looking for a gateway."
"Classic arcanist tower this," Harper said, rapping on a crumbling stone with his knuckles and sending a shower of dust down onto Renau’s head.
"We have this," Serena said, holding out the Hedron.
Harper gave a low whistle as he flapped around it. "You’re playing in the big leagues now, aren’t you? That’s an original by the looks of it."
There was a pointed silence and Harper chuckled. "You don’t even know whose tower this is, do you? That Hedron was made by Ostred himself, as was this tower, if I’m any judge."
"The champion of the mother was an arcanist?" Renau asked.
"Nothing unusual about that; who wouldn’t want a champion who could touch the ley lines and divine power?"
Serena waved the question aside and gestured to the Hedron. "Can you help us find the gateway or not?"
"As much as I hate to admit it, you don’t need much help with this one, you're standing in it," Harper replied.
Serena looked around, and as frustrating as it was, she still could not see anything unremarkable about the inside of the tower.
"Do you think Ostred would have left such a powerful artifact to the whims of time and the weather?" Harper said.
Renau made a soft noise of understanding, then clicked the final section of the Hedron into place.
The light of the Hedron flared around the tower, and the interior transformed. Walls were made whole and smooth again, and the detritus of the collapsed roof that was strewn on the floor disappeared. Flagstones were repaired, and standing in the middle of the tower was an intricately carved stone gateway. Images from a myriad of different realms flowed across the surface: entities from the abyssal realm, Faelen figures, and even robed gods striding through their own white palace. The gateway was topped with a stone carving of an owl.
"Temporal fixed state," Harper said with a nod of professional respect. "Not bad; the whole tower could disappear, but the Hedron knows what should be there and just fills in the gaps that are missing."
"How does the gateway work?" Renau asked.
"Best guess? You just hold your intended destination in mind and walk through," Harper said, scratching his chin with a clawed hand.
"Best guess?" Serena repeated.
"Stands to reason you’d have to take the Hedron with you so you could get back. It’ll just replicate another gateway in the other realm, even if it’s been destroyed."
"What if it's under water or something?" Renau asked.
"That’s a very devious mind you have there, fancy man. If it’s under water, I’d suggest holding your breath."
"How do we turn it off?" Serena asked, lifting her hand to block the magic glow; the raw power emanating from it was prickling uncomfortably on her skin.
"It should react to the holder's intentions. Now if that’s all, I’m off. Please do call me again to sit around while you figure something else out for yourself. It's really thrilling to watch."
The imp disappeared, and Serena and Renau approached the gateway. The view through the stone arch simply revealed the other side of the tower.
"Are we really doing this?" Renau asked.
Some of the carvings showed long-limbed figures with pointed ears, and Serena’s hand found Renau’s. "Yes, we are going to the Faelen Echo," she said, stepping confidently forward.