The wind tugged at Miles’ hair, light rain spotted his face and robe, and cool air tried to find its way through gaps in his sweater and under his cargo pants as the platform he shared with It-who-strikes-decisively flew sedately through the city.

It was still morning on Ialis. The bright star that fed the planet was overhead, its thin light turning the sky into a sheet of frosted glass. On the horizon, the stars of the spiral were visible as a tightly coiled thread, with a tail that stretched out all the way across the sky. Ialis was just one more point in that chain of fallen worlds.

Miles turned and looked down the spiral in the opposite direction, a curling thread that ended before it could form more than a single loop.

Earth’s solar system was just one of those stars as well. The spiral was currently ninety days into iteration 27,201, and Sol had bowered as iteration 27,200 which meant home was the second to last star in the line. If he’d had a computer unit and an astronomical database Miles could have calculated exactly how far away Earth was, but he knew it had to be trillions of kilometers.

It seemed impossibly far away, in terms of his ability to travel.

Being so far from all the places he knew and everything familiar was a pain, but when his mind turned to his family, the distance was nothing but a comfort.

Miles turned to look ahead, gripping the guardrail as their floating platform wove between spires.

From this viewpoint, the city was a field of black spires starker than old Earth’s most brutalist tower projects, but growing from the planet’s dark moss ground with mist pooling around their feet, they projected a weird, alien beauty.

Miles held onto the rail for a while, facing ahead as he watched their progress toward the edge of the city.

It seemed like their destination was an unfinished tower on the outer edge of the city. It had the same construction as the rest, but many sections were incomplete. There were places where bare metal bones hadn’t yet been clothed in prefabricated slot-in units, areas where the skin only existed as thin, reflective squares of insulation instead of the black metal skin, and it had a spire that ended in a broken crown of temporary panels, rather than the flat angled tops of the others.

Was their destination inside, just open to the elements?

"Where’s the Enclave?" he asked, calling to Iddris.

The being that Miles had decided was some kind of technological sapient regarded him placidly.

Iddris didn't seem to mind the cold or the rain and didn't react to the other platforms passing by and in front of them. The concave lens of its central eye never left him and never showed any expression. Miles still couldn’t shake the impression that it was assessing him.

"Traveling to the edge of the city, we will find the Enclave beneath the nameless spire."

Miles turned to look back at the unfinished construction. The nameless spire. Most of the towers were named for the corporations that owned them. The Ishel Corporation Lounge. The Lapis Corporation Apartments. This one must have been unnamed because it wasn’t finished. Nobody had bought it from the Ialis Corporation.

"My guide couldn't find anything like the Enclave on the city listings. Is that deliberate?"

"As a non-commercial organization, there is no benefit to being easily found," Iddris said, raising their voice to be heard over the wind.

"What are you, if not commercial?"

"Listing the motives of our sub-groups, we are spiritual, cultural, professional, and cooperative."

"Cooperative sounds good."

The platform dropped several feet as it began its descent. Miles’ stomach flipped up into his mouth and his feet briefly left the floor as his body caught up with the downward momentum.

Unsafe. Unsafe.

He really wished the Ialis Corp had invested in better public transport. He had a feeling that the system controlling the platforms was smart enough not to toss him over the edge with a too-aggressive move, but he would have loved to have that feeling backed up by a seat and safety harness.

He kept a tight grip on the railing as the floating disc descended toward the unnamed tower.

Miles felt pulses of magic coming from Iddris at several points on their journey, and now it was emitting the cold ticking of its magical tradition almost constantly. Normally, a transport platform was called by sending a message to their central management system with the pickup and drop-off locations included, but Miles wondered whether Iddris was guiding this one personally, using its own brand of magic.

The platform swooped down past the usual docking level, descending all the way to the base of the tower. It came to a stop on top of a mound of green-black moss, a dozen feet from the tower wall.

Miles stepped shakily off the platform onto the ground, limbs weak and head swimming.

The unfinished elements of the construction were visible down there, too. The black metal skin that covered most of the structure was missing for the bottom fifty feet, leaving a bare metal framework occasionally plugged by white insulating foam.

Fixtures that looked like they were meant to host access panels or maintenance equipment were just naked panels of exposed interface contacts, and there were still a few head-high crates of materials lying around, rain-stained and covered in dirt.

The lack of weatherproofing close to the base had allowed the planet's moss to get a foothold, growing up the sides in meandering meters-high columns of dark green.

Iddris left the platform and started floating toward the tower, where a circular maintenance hatch appeared as the only clear metal among a dense patch of moss.

"How come it was never finished?" Miles asked as he came up beside the sapient.

"Following the completion of the city, a fault fracture began to appear in the ground beneath its foundations,” Iddris replied. “As a minor geological instability, it posed no threat, but some saw it as an opportunity."

Iddris paused at the hatch, pulsing magic in a stuttering stop-start spell. The round metal door receded into the wall with a clunk and rolled to the side. Iddris continued speaking as it led Miles down a maintenance corridor.

"Purchasing the tower closest to the fault's peak, the disreputable Wing Corporation began excavating its foundation. Opening a passageway to the fault, they hoped to gain private and unrestricted access to the Ialis artifact below."

Miles thought of the heavily managed entrance complex, and how the Gilthaens queued and monitored scavengers entering and leaving the dungeon.

He didn’t see a good reason why anyone would need a private way in, the Ialis Corp entrance fees weren’t that steep, but he did have personal experience that some people would go to extreme lengths to smuggle items out of the dungeon.

"Did they manage to find a way in?" he asked.

"As Gilthaens, the city's overseers were impossible to deceive. Opening the way to the fault did give the Wing Corporation access to the artifact's top layer, but they were censured before they could profit from it. As an inconvenient reminder of an unauthorized act, the tower remains in arbitration."

So there was another way in.

The inside of the tower wasn’t in much better condition than the exterior. Cables hung down from the ceiling, wires trailed across the ground posing clear trip hazards, light fixtures were missing or flickering, and missing wall panels exposed pipework to anyone passing by.

"If the tower's locked in arbitration, how did the Enclave get set up here?"

"Making simultaneous arrangements with the Wing Corporation and the Ialis Corporation. As a building which the Wing Corporation could not use, they accepted our offer for the foundation levels. Knowing that the Enclave would not use the secondary entrance to compete with them commercially, the Ialis Corporation permitted it."

"Does the Enclave ever use the entrance?" Miles asked.

Iddris paused at a side door, never answering.

The door's control panel was the first active terminal Miles had seen since they'd come in, but Iddris made no move to use it.

The technological sapient didn't even seem to have any manipulators, leaving Miles wondering if it did everything using magic.

"Entering the code 918-dark-moon-luminary will permit us access," Iddris said, hovering motionless by the door.

Miles waited for a few more seconds before asking, "Do you want me to do it?"

"Casting the code using Counterfactuals is tedious."

Miles stepped up, touched the control panel to bring it to life, and started tapping in the security code.

It took a minute for him to find the right elements, just due to the breadth of options in the interface. A security code could include numbers, words, images, pictograms from a number of spiral languages, and even biometric readings.

Even knowing the code, Miles had to give the number 918 using Gilthaen numeric glyphs, only recognizing them because of his Eyes of the Emigre. Next, he had to hand-type the words dark moon using an on-screen keyboard configured in the same layout as the one on his comm. Finally, he had to pick out the luminary token from a library of Gilthaen image archetypes, a set of illustrations that looked more like tarot cards than elements in a language.

When he tapped the option to submit the code, the panel peeped in approval and the door slid open.

Is this the kind of thing Trin has to deal with in the dungeon?

Through the door was the landing of a large square stairwell. Instead of stairs, a ramp ran around the walls of the space, spiraling steeply downward.

There was no railing to the ramp, and the center of the room was an open column of air that looked like it went down forty or fifty feet to the floor below.

Iddris floated up to the edge of the platform, where the ground gave way to a perilous drop. It rotated in the air to look at Miles.

"As a harmonizer, can you navigate this direct descent?"

"Do you mean can I survive the fall?" Miles asked. He peered over the edge. "No. No, I can't do that."

Without a word, Iddris turned and headed for the ramp. It began floating down it steadily, stopping to turn at the corners, before going down the next flight. Miles followed.

At the bottom of the ramp was another door to leave the stairwell. It was dark at first, but lit up as soon as it sensed their presence.

Miles waited for either the door to open, or for Iddris to give him a code, but instead they just waited.

"As visitors, we will wait for admittance."

They waited, and seconds turned into a minute, then two.

Miles shot Iddris glances as they stood in silence, working up the nerve to interrogate him.

Ever since Miles had met the other mage, he'd kept his curiosity on a leash. He hadn't wanted to put too much pressure on the sapient and annoy them, or put them off, ruining his one chance.

Now that they were alone without the wind blowing around them, he couldn't hold it back any longer.

"Can you tell me more about magic?" He asked.

When Iddris didn't immediately reply, Miles felt like the other mage's silence was inviting him to elaborate. He'd been sitting on a knot of feelings about the magic he'd been inducted into, and they chose that moment to bubble to the surface.

"When they handed me my index on the refugee station, I just accepted it. I was already accepting so much, and magic, sure, it was just one more thing I'd never considered. I think on some level, I thought it was just another type of advanced technology, but since I've been casting Harmonizer spells I’ve realized that’s not true. Using magic feels like… touching something true. Am I making sense?"

"No," Iddris replied.

"No?"

"Educating you on magic is not a desirable use of my energy. As a member of the tradition which gave your iteration access to magic, Fifth-Sage Curious can hear your questions."

"Who is that?"

"Sitting as our Enclave's senior Harmonizer."

Is Fifth-Sage part of the name? Or a rank?

Miles decided not to ask the question. He sensed that he was starting to annoy the other sapient, after all.

They were probably both relieved a minute later when the panel chirped and the door rolled open on its own.

That lasted until the first wave of raised voices spilled out of the space beyond.

At first, it was just an unintelligible cacophony of non-human voices. There was so much noise and overlap that Eyes of the Emigre wasn't providing translation, until one voice rose over the crowd.

Before translation, the voice was a series of loud clicks, but under Eyes of the Emigre, it became the haughty voice of a younger man.

"—under your control is weak and dissolute. You shelter the broken traditions. You dilute our ranks with the powerless and deluded followers of false traditions, from iterations that never even possessed magic. For all of these reasons and for the good of the Enclave, I challenge you for leadership."

Beyond the door, the space opened up into a vast multi-level chamber. The patchwork construction of the tower above continued below, except that here the missing work had been patched up by hand.

Floors that had been left as skeletal networks of crisscrossing beams had been patched up with wooden flooring made from planks of the dark native wood. Walls that had been left as bulging compartments full of wiring and insulation had been plastered and painted, with some areas even decorated in clashing patterns of printed paper and engraved stone.

Wall scrolls and tapestries dotted the walls, depicting other worlds, natural scenes, cloudscapes, and strange animals in a huge range of different styles, while others showed artistic arrangements of pictograms that Miles thought might represent the different magical traditions.

It was as far as he could imagine from the utilitarian interior of the Ishel Lounge or his own bare apartment.

The raised voices were coming from below. The floor the stairwell opened on was a broad outer balcony that framed an opening on the floor below. Whoever was speaking was currently out of sight.

The only person on this floor was the one who'd let them in, the smallest Hurc Miles had ever seen. They were a male, no taller than Miles, with an even slighter frame. He looked about Miles' age, only lightly muscled, with lilac skin and a tuft of dark blue hair growing out of the center of his head. He was stripped to the waist, with a sweeping skirt of rough fabric that hung down to his ankles.

"Apologies. Apologies. There's some trouble," he said. He held his hands together as he spoke, which was either a social gesture Miles hadn't seen before or a sign the man was nervous.

"Explaining the trouble quickly would be helpful," Iddris said to him.

"Adept Shrikesong is challenging Master Oron for leadership, Master Strikes-Decisively. It began several minutes ago, and they still have the floor."

Iddris turned to look at Miles and said, "Waiting is necessary."

"That's okay."

Miles felt out of his depth. He’d felt out of his depth before he knew he was walking into some kind of crisis.

Iddris began floating toward the edge of the balcony, where the room opened up into a theater-style space below. Miles followed, and the boy from the door came after them.

As they reached the edge, Miles got a better appreciation for the size of the space. It covered three floors, with two successively wider balconies made up of metal floor panels filled in with wooden planks, and the bottom level that seemed to be carved straight into bedrock.

The bottom layer was crowded with furniture around the outside. Shelves, chests, lockers, and desks, with chairs, lounges, and oversized cushions suitable for a huge variety of body types. It was currently also dotted with diverse sapients, all focusing their attention on the center.

The center of the room was open, a wide oval strewn with rugs and blankets, with a glowing glass sphere hanging from a nest of wires above it that provided light to the entire space.

In the clearing stood two people.

The first was a tall, stick-thin figure in a patterned toga made out of dark sheer fabric. They had a triangular head of glassy brown chitin, with the position of their eyes and mandibles reminding Miles of a praying mantis. Their body was narrow and hard-shelled under the toga, with four arms hanging at their sides, two growing from each shoulder.

The second figure was much, much larger. Miles wasn't sure how a sapient the size of an elephant had navigated the stairwell, but they occupied the space like they belonged there. Covered in russet-brown fur and standing on four thick limbs in the same way a bear might, they stared at the mantis sapient with a placid expression, deep brown eyes set in an almost human face.

"Okay. How do you want to challenge?" the larger sapient asked in a deep, rolling voice.

"A duel of magical force," the mantis sapient replied.

"Okay. Let's do that."

Next to Miles, Iddris said, "As a senior, I should be there to witness and invigilate."

Iddris left without waiting for a response, floating up over the railing and off the edge of the balcony, then descending slowly to take a place among the crowd on the bottom level.

Miles was left alone with the other boy.

Down below, the other people present were moving backward to create space between themselves and the pair in the center. Some took up positions at regular points around the two, and Miles felt the flashes of magic of a half dozen different traditions coming from them, maybe preparing protections.

At his side, Miles caught the Hurc inspecting him.

"Master…?" he said.

It took Miles a second to realize he was fishing for his name.

"Uh, no. I'm just Miles."

"Miles. Apologies. You came with Master Strikes-Decisively, so I thought…"

"I didn't know he was a 'master'," Miles said.

"Half the mages here are masters. At least, sometimes it seems that way,” the Hurc mage said. “I’m only an apprentice. My name is Task."

Miles was starting to get a feel for the ranks here. Apprentice would be one of the lower ones, Adept a higher rank, and Master close to the top.

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

"I don't think I'm even an apprentice," Miles said. He knew a handful of spells, but he didn't imagine that gave him the right to any kind of title. "Iddris brought me here to speak to your Harmonizer."

"Master Curious," Task said, repeating the name Iddris had used.

"Yeah. Are they down there?"

Task peered over the edge. "There she is. The Purir woman by the books."

He pointed out a figure standing in the crowd below. A humanoid sapient a couple of feet shorter than Miles, with an elongated skull and skin colored like patchwork autumn leaves. She wore a red-brown robe and leaned on a black wooden staff, watching the proceedings in the center without much interest.

"What's she like?" Miles asked.

"She doesn't like to be bored. Oh, look. They're starting."

A hush had fallen on the crowd below.

According to some etiquette Miles didn't know, the insectoid challenger, Shrikestong, was taking the first move.

"Magic is a means to achieve change, nothing more, nothing less," Shrikesong declared. "We affect the world directly, using coveted secrets stolen from our elders. Opening our society to lesser traditions, and especially to false traditions, is a degradation that insults our dignity and weakens our standing."

With his declaration done, the spindly sapient took an awkward-looking stance, right arms raised, left arms behind their back.

Miles felt Shrikesong's magic spin up. His tradition was a stuttering chainsaw buzz that sputtered into life noisily before quickly rising to a crescendo. At the moment of the magic's peak, Shrikeson extended their right pair of arms, claws stretching forward to point at the giant Master Oron.

The magic left his body in a spike, rushing through the air.

Just from the taste of it in his senses, Miles could tell that this magic was disharmonious. He could barely resist the urge to raise his own hand and strike it out of the air, not that he could do it fast enough to count, or that he thought he had anywhere near enough the strength to stop it.

The spell hit Oron. A wave of ruffled fur ran over his body, as if blown by a breeze.

Oron blinked at Shrikesong slowly, his eyes slightly out of time with each other. After a moment of silence, he replied.

"Magic is a refuge, okay? Our power lets us enforce our values. It keeps us safe. The guys who don't really do magic? They're okay. We like them."

As his statement ended, Oron's magic began to build. To Miles, it felt like a warm flow, like a wave washing in to shore.

Oron opened his mouth and a word rolled out.

The word didn't translate, but Miles felt its meaning anyway. It meant Defeat, or Lose, but there was more to it. Defeat in the manner you tried to win. Or Lose by your own hand.

The meaning coalesced into a compact phrase as the magic hit. Mirrored Defeat.

Shrikesong's body flew apart.

A wave of shock seemed to pass over the crowd. Miles took long moments to process what he'd seen.

Body parts were scattered across the rugs and fabrics. Chitinous limbs, fragments of Shrikesong's clothes. His triangular head had ended up on a mustard-yellow cushion.

It had happened so quickly. Miles could barely believe it. He’d seen violence, recently, in the dungeon and in Brisk’s attack on the Gilthaen, but he was still far from used to it. It was hard to accept that he’d just seen someone die in a moment. There wasn’t even much mess.

The crowd below seemed just as shocked as Miles. The silence now felt tense. Miles didn’t think anyone down there had expected this, maybe not even Oron.

Into the silence, the woman Task had identified as Master Curious spoke up.

"Those who sow the spark must be willing to reap the blaze."

There was the muttering of mixed-species voices from below. Next to him on the balcony, Task was nodding to himself.

Miles was considering just leaving.

"How often do people get blown up here?" he asked quietly.

Task took a second to reply. He seemed like his thoughts were far away.

"Master Oron has been seeing challengers almost once a span for this entire iteration. Usually, the bouts are safe… We all thought Adept Shrikesong would just measure his power against Master Oron in a show duel. I've never seen anyone die before."

Before Miles had the chance to weigh up the odds that he might get challenged to a duel if he went down, Iddris reappeared, floating over the balcony to land next to Miles.

“As the senior who brought you here, I regret that this display is your first experience of our Enclave,” it said, descending to hover next to him.

“It’s okay,” Miles allowed. He did still want some information here. “As long as it’s safe for me.”

“Challenging a resident Master is the most dangerous activity here, and that is usually safe,” Iddris said.

Below them on the bottom level, Master Curious was casting a spell. Miles felt the familiar warm rotation of Harmonizer magic, and the Purir mage stepped forward.

She waved her hand in the direction of the fragments of former Adept Shrikesong then snatched at the air.

Magic rang through the room, and the scattered body parts collapsed into ash.

The enormous form of Master Oron turned and trundled back to the edge of the room, where he sank onto a colorful woven mat.

“Introducing you to Fifth-Sage Curious is now possible. Following me, we will reach her directly.”

Iddris set off around the edge of the platform, apparently expecting Miles to follow.

Miles turned to Task before leaving.

“It was good to meet you,” he said.

Task clasped his hands together again as he replied. “The same with you. Apologies for the circumstances. I hope you return.”

Miles glanced at the departing shape of Iddris before turning back to Task.

“Do you want to tap comms?”

Task offered his hand. There was a tech device in the form of a ring around his third finger, which Miles assumed was his comm. Miles tapped his own device to it, then turned to rush after Iddris, who was disappearing down a ramp.

By the time they made it to the bottom floor, there was a low buzz of conversation from every cluster of sapients, Miles assumed talking about what had just happened.

He saw a few species he recognized on the lower floor. There were a few Eppan mages, and several members of the slender six-armed species he’d learned were called Morchis. There was even someone who had the same body plan as Torg, with the same distinctive chitin cowl. There were more familiar shapes in the crowd, but just as many were new to him.

Iddris led him around the edge of the central clearing to the section where Master Curious was sitting on a plush cushion, regarding the other mages around her carefully.

When they reached her, Iddris floated ahead, making introductions.

“As Senior Counterfactual Sorcerer It-who-strikes-decisively, I greet Fifth-Sage Curious, Senior Harmonizer.”

“Hello, Iddris. What do you want?” The woman shifted on her cushion, turning to face them. When she saw Iddris wasn’t alone, she unfolded her legs and rose to her feet.

Up close, Miles could see that her skin was actually a light gray, but almost every inch of it was covered by patches of color that spread out in fractal shapes. She had a near-human face, lacking only a nose and ears, and seemed to have four limbs. Her hands ended in double-jointed fingers that were hard and narrow, more like talons than flesh, and when she stretched out her legs to stand, Miles noticed her feet were the same way.

“Browsing the market, I found a Harmonizer using his magic recklessly. As his senior, I stepped in to caution him, and found something interesting.”

Curious examined Miles more closely. A pair of eyes with pinprick pupils scanned him from head to feet, and Miles felt the rolling of magic from her, not a spell, but maybe some other effect.

“You’re an index mage,” she said to him.

How can you tell?

“Yes,” Miles said.

Curious turned back to Iddris. “What’s interesting about that?”

Iddris rotated to turn its single black eye on Miles. “As a demonstration, cast the spell you were using in the marketplace.”

Miles felt a flash of panic at the thought of casting Strike the Disharmonious here, after what he’d just seen.

“Here?” Miles asked. “Are you sure? It’s an attack spell.”

“You’re not going to hurt anyone, mage-child. Trust me on that,” Curious said.

Miles glanced at Iddris to double-check that it was okay, then at Curious. Iddris was a completely inexpressive black spike, and Miles had no idea how to read Curious’ body language. He’d just have to hope they were telling him the truth.

Holding his hand up, Miles began to concentrate on the singing tone of Strike the Harmonious. It seemed to come easily to him this time, and within a couple of seconds, the note had shifted from imagination to something he could hear.

Master Curious watched him for a second, then made a humph sound. “Yes, fine. Let it go.”

Miles let the spell fade.

“What else can you do?”

Miles thought for a second. Close Wound and Hasten Renewal wouldn’t do anything obvious here, so maybe Temporary Enhancement would work as a demonstration, assuming Curious could sense the magic.

Miles touched a hand to his chest, and cast the spell, focusing on bolstering his Authority.

He felt the warmth in his gut begin to spin, while dredging up what he could remember of the litany.

In myself, I am complete. In a harmonious world, everyone is, in theirself complete. I am that which I am.

The spark of hot energy rushed from his core down his arm, and into his body again from the outside. He felt something. Not an effect as obvious as when he’d enhanced his reactions, but a solidity and a significance. At times since he’d left Earth, Miles had felt out of place, unwanted, castaway. Now, he felt like he belonged, that nobody could gainsay his presence.

Curious peered at him, and Miles felt the pressure in his gut that signified he was being inspected by another mage.

“You don’t have to touch yourself,” Curious said after a minute.

What?

“I don’t?”

“You’re already in your own body. You don’t have to use your hand to cast spells on yourself.”

“Oh.”

He just hadn’t tried before. The energy had always flowed along his arm. He wasn’t sure how to use it in any other way.

“All right,” Curious said to Iddris. “He’s riding with a loose harness, and he never even noticed. I’ll take him.”

“As the one who brought him here, I now turn him over to you,” Iddris said, before turning to Miles. “Giving you into the care of Fifth-Sage Curious, I will take my leave.”

Miles wanted to tell them to wait. Iddris was just a metal spike, and it was still the friendliest face he knew here. But he knew that Curious was supposedly an experienced Harmonizer, and he couldn’t pass up the chance to learn more about his tradition.

Iddris floated up directly from the floor, heading up to the third level, presumably to leave. While he was looking upward, he noticed Task was still up there, gazing down at him.

“Tell me what you know,” Curious said sharply. She shuffled around and sat back down on her cushion, leaning her staff across a pair of digitigrade legs.

“The spells I know?” Miles asked. Curious made no sign she was going to answer, so he went on. “I can cast Close Wound, Temporary Enhancement, Hasten Renewal, and Strike the Disharmonious.”

“All without your index?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

Curious demanded Miles hand over his index, and then asked him to cast several spells in sequence. Close Wound, Hasten Renewal, another Temporary Enhancement. She kept a close watch on his index while he worked, holding it like it was an animal she thought would bite her, before she seemed satisfied.

“Do you want me to destroy this?” she asked, holding up his index.

“No!” Miles said, then more calmly, “I need it.”

“Fine, then take it,” she tossed it back to him. “Do you even know what it is?”

Miles had a pretty good idea of what an index was in practical terms, but he was getting the same impression from Master Curious that he might get from an opinionated older relative, and decided not to put his answer to the test. He just shrugged, and hoped the message got across.

“A training device,” Curious said bluntly. “One that was so convenient that it replaced learning entirely. It can teach most spells instantly. It can be activated through a mental interface. Most who practice magic never grow beyond it. You seem to have been using it for its original purpose.”

He hadn’t been explicitly trying to. He felt like he’d missed something. There was supposed to have been a way to work the interface without touching the device itself, and from what Curious was saying, he’d gone straight past that to casting the spells it taught him on his own.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” Curious said.

Miles didn’t think his expression had been showing anything, but he relaxed his face anyway.

“It’s not difficult to learn when the index has already shown you the way. Not at all. That was the point of the device. ‘Those who are taught a truth shouldn’t expect a discoverer’s laurels.’ This is unusual only because of the choice you’ve made. Would you commit to a traditional study of magic?”

Miles hesitated, processing the implications. Was she offering to become his teacher? He was desperate for a real teacher, but something about the way she’d said it worried him. Commit to a traditional study of magic. It made him think that if he said yes, she’d follow through on her offer to destroy his index.

“Is it all one way or the other?” he asked. “Either index, or traditional study?”

“I won’t take an apprentice who’s still bound to an index,” Curious said. “That’s not a point of principle, or a problem with the tool itself, but we have history with the Morning Star Corporation who operate it, and teaching one of their loyal customers is more than I can stomach.”

Miles briefly considered what she was offering. Could he live without his index? Was he willing to throw it away for a chance at becoming a real student of magic? He had a willing Master right here, ready to teach him.

After half a minute’s thought, he decided that he couldn’t take the risk. The chance that he’d be no good at magic on his own, the chance that it wasn’t really the opportunity it looked like, the chance that even if it was, it would take too much time and he wouldn’t have the freedom and flexibility to support himself and his new team. He was counting on getting Purify just as soon as he found out how to get delta, and he had no idea how long that spell would take to learn Curious’ way.

“I can’t,” Miles said, finally. “I need the index to learn quickly, and I need to learn quickly to support myself here.”

“Yes. That’s typically the argument,” Curious said. She didn’t seem annoyed or frustrated, but she did seem to have become bored, but at the last second she relented. “I won’t be your teacher, but I will answer any questions you have right now. If you ask a tiresome question, I will answer it, but that will be your last.”

For a fraction of a second, Miles interpreted that will be your last as a threat to kill him, until his brain caught up.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

His mind worked, trying to come up with a question. It seemed like he’d had a thousand just that morning, but he hadn’t taken the time to write them down.

“Can you tell me how magic is different from technology?” he asked cautiously. He’d raised the general idea with Iddris, but the sapient hadn’t been willing to take him up on it. Since then, he’d been wondering.

“I can see how that would be confusing. You’re from an iteration that had no native magical systems?”

“Iteration 27,200,” Miles said. “We didn’t have any real magic.”

“I see. You came in with Strikes-decisively. If you asked him about magic, he’d tell you a story about ‘information solutions’ and ‘low-energy states’. I never really understood it, the pure-mechanists’ explanation for magic. For the rest of us, ‘change flows from truth as heat flows from flame’. It was a natural law for those of us born in magical iterations. When we tried to pierce our world fabric and fell through to the spiral, that law spread out into the weave like any other.”

Change flows from truth.

Miles had personal experience with that already. He’d felt the total conviction that the Orbellius ghoul existed in disharmony, that it wasn’t entitled to exist, while he was casting Strike the Disharmonious. When casting Hasten Renewal he’d understood that a creature that will eventually heal might as well already be healed.

It didn’t make sense to him logically, but that feeling, first from the index, and then from his own thoughts, rang as true whenever he called it.

“But who is judging what’s true?” Miles asked.

It wasn’t as if he could suddenly decide, I deserve one-thousand delta and make it a reality.

“You are. I am. The weave has its own idea about what is true, which we call physical reality. As Harmonizers, we exercise our Authority to overrule it.”

Miles let out a breath. He realized that in essence, he was trying to get a physical explanation for what magic was, but the actual mages would reject the idea that there even was one.

Curious’ answer did remind him about something he had wanted to ask.

“What is Authority? Can it be increased?”

Curious made the noise of escaping air, and her pupils narrowed to pinpricks. As an expression, Miles assumed that he’d said something she didn’t like.

“That is a tedious question. Authority isn’t an obtuse word. A ruler’s commands are obeyed because they have authority. If they overtax their authority, it will diminish for a time, or permanently in severe cases. To grow it, live harmoniously, speak honestly, act with conviction, and succeed in your endeavors.”

Oh, is that all? I’m sure there’s no hidden complexity to that.

“Thank you, Master Curious,” Miles said, trying to be polite even if he had just been cut off. He didn’t need to annoy her any more than he apparently had.

Curious waved a taloned hand at him, closing her eyes as she settled down onto the cushion. “Go. I’ll send my apprentice to make contact with you. There’s no reason to cut ties. If you change your mind and want my instruction, let her know, and she’ll pass on the word.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Miles looked around the space for anyone that could be Curious’ apprentice, but nobody stood out.

“How will she find me?” he asked.

“No more questions,” Curios ordered.

Miles stepped away, a little at a loss. Iddris was gone. How was he meant to leave? Could he just message for a platform to pick him up from the mage enclave?

He looked around for a friendly face, or anyone who might be willing to talk to him. Everyone seemed to be engaged in their own conversation, or else sitting alone in a way that precluded trying to speak to them.

He started saying a little litany to amuse himself as he maneuvered around the edge of the crowd.

Over my life, I’ll make thousands of delta. In a harmonious world, everyone already has all of their life savings. Such should it be.

Miles panicked a little as he felt his magical core spinning up over the course of the litany, but it petered out halfway through, leaving it as the joke it was meant to be.

When he got to the ramp leading up from the bottom level, he caught sight of Task looking down at him.

The Hurc quickly looked away as soon as Miles spotted him, but the apprentice mage would probably be good for some quick questions.

Questions like how do I get delta and how do I get out of this hole.

Miles rushed up the ramp before the other mage could disappear.

When he reached the top level, the apprentice wasn’t making any attempt to leave, instead waiting patiently.

“Hi,” Miles said, breathing hard as he came to rest against the railing next to him.

“Hello, again,” Task said. “Did you receive instruction from Master Curious?”

“She answered a couple of questions. She didn’t want to teach me anything while I’m still using my index.”

Task reached into a pocket of his skirt and pulled out a cobalt-blue ring, which he slipped onto a finger. He held up his hand for Miles to see.

“My index.”

“I didn’t know they made them that small. How do you work it?”

“The mental interface. Master Oron lets me keep it, but it can’t teach me his tradition, the Thunderous Word. The details were never shared with its makers.”

“I’m a Harmonizer. That’s the only tradition I can access,” Miles said.

He suddenly remembered the other tradition he’d seen when holding the crystal he’d picked up from Brisk’s former teammate.

“Hey, have you ever heard of crystals that contain spells?” Miles asked.

He didn’t elaborate on where the crystals came from, or that he’d seen one, or that he’d used one, in case it was a taboo subject.

Task's open, innocent expression made him realize he needn't have worried.

"Crystals? I haven't. Apologies, Miles."

"It's okay. No need to ask around or mention that to anyone else."

"Okay… I won't."

Miles' eyes strayed down to Task's index. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his own, resting it on the railing.

"It's very big," Task said. "The basic model."

"Yeah. I haven't worked out how to work it without touching it. I thought I'd got it, but it turns out I was just casting the spells the old-fashioned way." Miles hesitated before continuing, sure that he was admitting some embarrassing ignorance. "I also have no idea where to get delta to buy new spells."

Task straightened up, and the hair growing from his head seemed to stiffen.

"I can show you," he said, then glanced down at the lower level like he'd realized something. "Oh, but my duties."

"I don't want to bother you if you're at work," Miles said. "Maybe you could just tell me?"

"No. Please wait."

Task left the balcony, running down the ramps to the lowest level.

Miles saw him approach the massive furred form of Master Oron, saying something with his hands clasped together.

Oron glanced up, looking straight at Miles. He replied briefly, and Task came rushing back up.

"Apologies. I'm free to take you now."

"Okay," Miles said. "Sure. Thanks. So where is it?"

"We have to go to the Morning Star Lounge," he said, moving up to walk beside him.

Miles pulled out his comm as they headed back toward the stairwell.

> Miles > Trin

> Hey Trin. I'm going with someone else to a third location. An apprentice called Task says he's taking me to the Morning Star Lounge. If I disappear, tell security.

> Trin > Miles

> Shady shady shady.

> Miles > Trin

> I don't know, he seems nice.

> Trin > Miles

> Send me a picture of him. For security.

> Miles > Trin

> I don't know how. I think I need to upgrade my comm.

Miles put the device away before Trin could reply again.

Task touched his own comm ring as they reached the moss-strewn ground around the base of the tower, and Miles saw a vacant platform in the distance change direction and start heading toward them.

He hadn't got everything he'd wanted from the Enclave, but at least he didn't feel like he was stumbling around in darkness anymore.

Making contacts, finding where he could get things he needed, and starting to get an idea of the character of the place. Dendril City was starting to feel like home.