Chapter 50

Beware of note taking people. They will show you up every time, even if they are on your side.

Aphorisms for a Quiet Life by Ruddtha Redstone, Chairman of Toolets Manufacturing, Sunderland

It was early afternoon on the White Isle. Two women were walking through the office area of the White Circle’s Chapter House. Almost no one was around. There were no students around seeking help, and many of the staff were out teaching at the moment and no one heeded their passage. One woman who had long flowing green hair had a look of panic on her face, and the other was full of uncertainty.

“Are you sure this is all right?” Arianne asked as they stopped in front of a door.

Sammisa the Lake woman intensified her panicked look with a knotted brow frown. “Was it all right for the Oldest to give me a last moment class assignment that I had never taught before? That first class...they are all going to think I’m a moron. Thrown to the wolves I was. This was Haran’s normal assignment. He’s got to have something in his files about it. He’s always taking notes and writing them up later. He’s so meticulous sometimes it makes me sick. Surely he has some files I can use.”

They opened the door and walked in.

“You’re lucky he didn’t use a lock or magic trap,” Arriane said.

“Nobody does that here,” Sammisa said. She walked over to the desk, which was empty of all paperwork. “If something can get through the Oldest’s wards, then our little locks and spells will be totally useless.”

“Didn’t keep us out,” Arriane noted.

“Bah. We’re staff. Oldest knows us all down to our last nightmare.” She turned to look around. Haran’s office was a tidy place. There was a chest, a bookshelf, and a wall lined with cubbyholes filled with papers. She gravitated to the righthand side of that.

“I’ll start here,” she said, rummaging through the papers. “Ack! Trade agreements with some Brightwater merchant,” she said, scanning the first. That won’t do me any good.” Taking a deep breath, she moved to another compartment. “Where did Haran put that lesson plan?”

They were so busy digging that they didn’t notice the soft footsteps or rustle of cloth coming down the hall.

“I don’t think any of these papers have anything to do with constructing magic missiles,” Arriane said. “They look more like reports on agricultural production in Brissingham and other places in the west. Why would he be collecting data like that?”

“Monitoring political stability,” said a male voice. There was a hint of laughter in it. “Why are you digging through my files?”

The two women turned around to see an amused Haran leaning against the doorframe.

“Eek!” Sammisa hurridly stuffed the file she was looking at back in the cubbyhole.

“Haran!” Arriane said. She put the papers she had been looking at more carefully back in place, then turned around to face the Jinn. “Where did you come from?”

He shrugged. “Where do you think? Willowick. I got to escape Sunderland for a few hours to talk with the Oldest and then I’ll have to get back, and if I’m lucky, I’ll get to drink some of Ethne’s excellent tea and eat some of his snacks. I’ll be doing that every now and then from this time on until the operation is complete.” He stepped forward and rubbed the back of his neck. “That explains me. But what about you two? I didn’t expect to find you two lovelies ransacking my files when I returned. Is there something I can help you find?”

Sammisa sucked on her bottom lip, embarrassed but no less needy. She lifted her eyes to meet Haran’s still laughing ones. “Your class notes. I’m looking for your lesson plans, since you’ve gotten out of teaching this season’s classes. The Oldest surprised me this morning by giving the magic weapons class to me.” Sammisa blew a strand of green hair out of her face. “I’ve never taught it before. I’m not exactly sure where to start. And I’ve already made a mess of the first session. Save me!”

“I’m just here as her assistant,” Arriane said, shrugging. “I’m still learning what proper behavior for the inner circle is. It wasn’t my idea. Did we do wrong?”

“I’m sure, Youngest.” This one pulled a real chuckle out of Haran. “You two look like you got caught stealing books from Mannan the Bookseller. Normally, we don’t go through each other’s files without asking first. Sammisa, don’t teach our little sister bad habits.”

Sammisa crossed her arms. “You are such a tease, Haran. You know perfectly well going through papers when the owner is out on assignment is acceptable. You’ve done it to me before. How would I know that you’d be coming back already?”

He rubbed his chin in a mock gesture of pondering her words. “I guess you’re right. This time.”

Arriane covered her mouth to hide a grin she was having trouble keeping off her face.

Sammisa rolled her eyes, in no mood to take too much teasing. “Would you please tell me where you put your teaching materials? I really need to get started planning the next class and to recover my credibility with that bunch of young know-it-alls.”

“You mean like you were when you were that age?” he asked.

Sammisa growled. A slight magical glimmer began to rise from her body. There was something liquid about it.

Haran held his hands up in a warding gesture. “Don’t hit me with that water blast of yours. Did you ask Ethne?”

Sammisa stepped back on her left foot, and tilted her head, surprised. The magic glow subsided. “Ethne?”

“Well, I knew I was going to be out for most of the term, or at least out more days than not. I talked it over with the Oldest, and she suggested I leave my lesson plans and materials with him. Nobody better for keeping up with things around here than the Oldest’s assistant.”

Sammisa let out a deep breath, took another, then looked up at the ceiling and pulled at her hair. “Why did nobody tell me these things? I had to wing it through the first class meeting, almost in a panic. I hope the students didn’t notice too much.”

Haran chuckled. “You do know you know everything you need to know already – you can do everything you’re going to ask the students to do. It’s just intro magical weapon methods. You’re well beyond that. I’ve watched your workouts.”

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“That doesn’t mean I can get it out of my head, and tell a group of students not only how to do it, but guide them in method.” She sighed. “Come on, Youngest. Let’s go see what Ethne has.”

Haran watched the two women leave, and after checking to make sure his files were in order, he sat down at his desk, and pulled out the little notebook he had been carrying around to read through what he had noted while with the Dragonkin.

This time, there was a knock on his door. He looked up to see Ruell standing there.

“Back already?” Ruell asked.

“Used a jump stone,” Haran replied. “I can’t stay long, but I thought you and the Oldest might want to know what I’ve learned already. I’ll have to go back soon, though.” He opened his drawer, and took out paper and his ink. “Byrony thinks instead of jump stones, I ought to get a small military-style carriage. He thinks repeated exposure to naked no space isn’t good for Aos Si.”

“He might be right. I’ll see if I can arrange it, but no guarantee. Maybe the Birch might volunteer one.” Ruell grabbed a chair and pulled it next to Haran’s desk, sitting down. “So how was it in Sunderland?”

“You don’t have to find me a carriage. Byrony said they’d have one for me by the time I get back.”

Ruell’s eyebrows raised at that one. “Did you impress him that much?”

“It’s more like this is a very high priority operation and the purse strings have been very loosened. I got the impression that normally, the DIC runs on a fairly tight budget, but this has gotten approval from the President’s office. They are taking all this very seriously, and the purse strings have been opened wide, which is useful, but I wonder about their methods.”

“What about them?” Ruell asked.

“Well, it seems kind of like controlled chaos. After spending all my adult like in the neat and orderly ways of the White Circle and rubbing shoulders with the ways of Ynys Afel, I’m not used to a whole organization that acts more like a bandit town. Their attitude to authority...well it would get them into serious trouble working for anybody on the White Isle or in the King’s court or army.”

Ruell rested a hand on the desk. “Are you trying to write a report?”

“Just enough of one to make sense of my notes. Even I’m having trouble making sense of them.”

“You and your record keeping,” Ruell said. “Anyway, never forget that Dragonkin do things differently.” He shrugged. “Notice, as a race they have rich and successful people, with greed and accumulation a virtue among many, but they do have some sort of clan or extended family groups that they use to organize their endeavors around, but no nobility like Ynys Afel has. Anybody who has the passion, luck and connections can reach the highest levels. And because they have no military, they don’t have the reflex for hierarchy the way we fall into.”

“That was pretty obvious the first day. The DIC does have ranks. They seem to be very independent within those ranks, and it’s access to resource and who can help them advance that matter a lot. Even with all the competition between people at similar ranks, they still get a lot done. And it’s not just the DIC. Look at the Dragon Web system. Even if they snipe at each other, they cooperate enough. Right now, they’ve decided to break up into separate teams and investigate separate things that may or may not be connected to whatever it is going on.”

Haran pulled one sheet of paper down, dipped his pen in the ink, and began writing some notes. Ruell watched him go back and forth from his notebook as he began to fill up the page. For a while, there was no sound but Haran’s pen scratching across the paper and Ruell fidgeting, tapping on the edge of the desk, and shifting his legs.

Haran finished one page, and moved it to the side. “You can keep talking,” he said, turning the page in his notebook and beginning to write on the next sheet of paper.

“I was just wondering about your initial impressions of what’s been going on,” Ruell said. “Not about how they work together, but what’s going on.”

“Don’t know what, yet, really,” Haran said. He looked at what he had been writing, and scratched through the last few words. “They still aren’t sure if everything’s connected - the disappearances, the attack on Redbeard’s trading network, the attack on Financials, some other things. That’s what they’re supposed to be investigating now.”

There was a gentle cough at the front of the room. “I know you don’t have the answers. Tell me some of your impressions.”

Both men looked up. The Oldest was at the doorway, with Ethne right behind her.

“Lady,” Ruell said. He got up and moved a chair in front of the desk for her to sit on.

“So everybody’s coming to visit me today? And I wasn’t even supposed to be here!” Haran said. He put away his writing supplies. “How did that happen? I wanted to write a report first.”

“Sammisa running into my office for your lesson plans gave it away,” Ethne said, putting down a tray. It was filled with a selection of both sweet and savory tidbits, and a fresh pot of tea. “She told me of her little adventure trying to find your notes, and hammered me for not turning them over when I saw her earlier today.” He deftly poured several cups of tea.

The Oldest picked up her cup of tea, swirled the dark amber liquid around, staring at it. “That was my fault,” she said. “I forgot about Ethne having the lesson plans when I gave her the assignment. She took a sip of her tea.

“Well, the start of the term always is a hectic time,” Haran said. He reached out and grabbed one of the snacks.

“True,” the Oldest said. “Anyway, as I was saying, even though you don’t have the true answers yet, tell me of your impressions.”

“Well,” Haran said, taking a sip of his tea, “Ethne makes better tea than they serve at DIC headquarters.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ethne said, taking a little bow.

“Perhaps the attitude of the Dragonkin you were wondering about is rubbing off on you, Haran,” Ruell said. He reached for a savory off the tray. “And after only a day!”

“Well, it is true. Every office in the building has some sort of tea service. It’s served as a concentrate; you add hot water to get it to the strength you like. Although it’s drinkable, it’s nowhere as good as Ethne’s brew.” Haran took another sip. “What is going on? Nobody exactly knows. One pattern I noticed, though. Whoever organized or did the disappearances has been trying hard to blame B&F, even to the point of leaving false trails back to them.”

“Could be a vendetta,” the Oldest said, nodding.

“And I’m not convinced the disappearances are really linked to no-space accidents. It’s possible that the targets were chosen to get people to assume that. The light show of magic that happened with those that were witnessed doesn’t happen with no space events. It’s possible they were targeted for another purpose, possibly to cause bad feelings about no space research by non-Dragonkin people, or even more, to cast blame at the Transport sector.”

“Well, it has made researchers more cautious,” Ruell said, nodding. “And possibly, it’s been designed to undercut the DIC.”

Haran raised an eyebrow, and rubbed his chin. “An interesting point.” He grabbed his notebook, and scribbled something in it. “I’m going to run that one by Byrony. I don’t know if it’s occurred to him.”

“I think the DIC has a saying about fresh eyes seeing new things,” the Oldest said. “Perhaps our eyes will indeed add a few things.”

“Another interesting thing or two. There are a lot of things pointing back to the region of Harani. A number of the false clues went back there. There have been some unexpected deaths from people loosely connected to the area. We yet don’t have any firm connection to the smugglers and Brightwater, or even the unsanctioned jump stones the smugglers were trading in, and they’re still trying to untangle the trouble in Meridae with the financial houses.”

“Such a tangled skein,” the Oldest said. “I wonder if this has any connection to the Gray Lands. And of course, we know the Shadowlands have a role in this.”

“That’s another thing Byrony hasn’t spoken of, but the recent murder over on a small mine there has gotten his wheels turning. I know the Jinn have a secret about the deep desert, but I never learned anything real about it, since we haven’t lived in the Gray Lands for two generations, and the knowledge is reserved for those who actually live there. Couldn’t tell you if there’s a connection there or not.”

Haran grabbed another treat off the tray, a small cake filled with spice and nuts, and snapped it in half. “Oh, and that reminds me. One of Gan Thistleberry and Lady Elaine Allyns’ old classmates has recently gone missing, and it may be connected.”

“Oh?” the Oldest said.

Haran looked in his notebook, turned to one of the last written pages, then looked up. “Her name is Violetta Greenleaf. An interesting person. She studied with both the Alder Branches and the Firesburners, and went to work for B&F right after completing her studies. She was evidently on vacation, and hard gone to the Harani region. The last time she was seen was at Runi Blahn, a small town near the edge of the Gray Land, and pretty much the closest bit of civilization to that mine Byrony is interested in.”

“Coincidence?” Ruell asked.

“We don’t know yet.” Haran closed his notebook and slipped it into his pocket.

“Harani and Thistleberry. Odd coincidences We will certainly have some even odder stories to tell when this is all over,” said the Oldest. She grabbed one of the cookies off the tray, and took a big bite.