Jose sat uncomfortably in his seat at the waiting room of the alchemical building. The receptionist made small talk with a coworker and he felt that whenever he turned away, she was looking at him with a cloying curiosity.

It was one thing for some random citizen to request an audience with Elder Tessa for non-governing related business. It was another entirely for the Elder to accept the invitation and have their guest wait while clearing an office of others.

“Do you know the Elder well?” The receptionist asked. The coworker gave him a side glance, trying to be disinterested in the answer Jose might give.

“We met recently but her and my mother have a history.” Jose answered. It was a relief that these people wouldn’t know his mother to make any further inquiries. He heard footsteps approaching from down the hall and stood up.

Elder Tessa was wearing a black and brown alchemist's smock and protective coverings, her face exposed to dismiss Joanna and Izirrary.

“Jose? I didn’t expect you to be here.” Izirrary stated. Joanna stared at him from behind her, her face either indifferent or forcefully neutral with no attempts made to introduce herself into the situation.

Before Jose could open his mouth to speak, Elder Tessa piped up, “I invited him to my office to talk about the Arcane.”

He simply nodded.

“A shame I cannot attend. Joanna and I have other business to attend to but do let us know all about your conversation in our briefing tomorrow. I’m quite excited to interact with our remaining expedition members.” Izirarry motioned for Joanna to lead the way and followed off after her, the lizard legs of her Charruh tapping on the floor to stick beside its master.

“Follow me, Mr. Ileria. And do mind Toadstool. He’s a mischievous sort and likes to drop mushrooms for others to step on.” Elder Tessa swiveled on the heel of her foot and walked back down the hall. Jose looked down on the floor and saw the dark green colored toad hop to keep up with the elder, the mushrooms on its back expanding and contracting like lungs in a body.

His stomach was churning now but there was nothing left to do aside from finishing what he started. The doors along the hallway kept grabbing his attention. The machinery used to churn potions in industrial vats or the clinking of glass beakers being molded and tested to contain experimental draughts and tinctures had his head bouncing from one end to the other.

Attention was also placed on the floor and the purplish-pink colored mushrooms that the toad shedded off of its back when it thought Jose was not paying attention.

They arrived at Elder Tessa’s office and workstation. It was more station than office with only a small amount of the room dedicated to a desk and chairs expected of a high ranking official and the rest dedicated to a cauldron bubbling with a multicolored liquid, shelves of ingredients and tools to measure and distribute them, smocks of different qualities, and books.

He instinctively gravitated towards those mahogany carved shelves to read the bindings of each thick book. It was expected that she would have recipe books on alchemical salves or classification texts for various ingredients to be found in the Great Glades and elsewhere on our route, but there were books ranging from personal accounts of survivors of Kingmaker Massacres to the anthropological observations of swamp folk in an undisclosed village managed by a creature of the land to the unexpected Reina novels.

Jose made a mental note to mention this revelation to Emma. Maybe they could start a book club.

“You’re well read.” Jose stated.

“It does come with the territory, Mr. Ileria. Although I’m afraid to say that my curiosities consume more of my time than I’d like to admit.” Elder Tessa replied. She tapped her desk and Toadstool hopped to the spot, settling its padded feet onto the surface before closing its eyes. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit? I recall mentioning my doors would be open for discussions but I didn’t expect calls so soon.”

He pulled out the book on anthropological observations and leafed through the dense text. What he skimmed was more knowledge than the passing familiarity he had with the native denizens of the swamps.

“You wouldn’t happen to have more research on this topic, would you?” Jose asked innocuously.

“Let me,” the Elder squinted her eyes at the cover and walked to another shelf, pulling out an assortment of books with various lengths and bindings, “If we’re looking to cover the swamp folk of the Great Glades, these would be particularly titillating dives.”

Jose followed her to her makeshift desk space and coasted through the titles. Of the seven or so books on the tower, two had the subject of swampfolk and the prevalence of covens meaningfully plastered on their titles.

“Seeing as how we were planning to leave the swamps, I wanted to be more familiar with the geography of the area. I only have a vague idea of what the swampfolk are and their signposts.” Jose lied. He’d approach his true motivations in time.

“Sometimes I forget that you’re not truly a native to Ileah.” Elder Tessa said in passing. The involuntary sinking of his spirit was weathered by the preoccupation of his task. He could feel bad after he was done. “I’m not even surprised your mother didn’t expand on that education for you.”

“You talk like you know her.” Jose snapped reflexively.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Elder Tessa softened her expressions, the crowlines in her eyes wrinkling to grasp at a memory, “Somewhat, yes. I was the deciding vote in allowing her into the colony without alert.”

Jose’s ears perked up. “What?”

She chuckled, “Didn’t even let you in on that much? I’m equal parts bemused and disappointed. Yes, she came to our colony through the Green Path. Said she was a Grand Arcanist looking for a place to stay from prying eyes. Nero thought she was more trouble than she was worth. Wanted to dump her on the Ohm-Kalee the moment we were en route to dock with her ports. The late Elder Vildevis looked at the prospect of having an Arcanist in the colony with the expectation of golden coins and risky ventures.”

“And why did you accept her?”

“A lapse in judgment or an appeal to empathy. I saw that she was with child and felt that my role as the matron of the colony that she should be taken care of. Still reconciling whether taking her in was a mistake or not but I can be grateful you have not succumbed to the ice that ran through her heart.” She sighed and placed one hand on his.

“Did you talk to her while she was around?”

“Not much at all, really. Sometimes I’d invite her over for tea to discuss the epistemics of Arcanism. Why is it that language defines and constructs spells for casting and not the story structures of the bards or the soul fueled rituals of the necromancers. Why is it that spells of sufficient use or power or even variants among grimoires can have personalities to themselves, and to that end what the effects are for carving out a slot in the soul for such a spell.” Elder Tessa rummaged through a drawer in the desk and pulled out a bundle of crumpled papers now browned with age and stains of drink. She dropped them on the desk and gestured for Jose to leaf through its contents. “And then she left. A flash in the pan, that woman.”

“Were you trying to dabble in Arcanism? I don’t think anyone would commit this much thought to the theory without wanting to put it into practice.” Jose asked.

Elder Tessa laughed, “Dead gods, no. If it isn’t fellow Arcanists looking to get ahead of you and pry your texts from your dead hands, it's the inquisitors branding your lot heretics speaking in tongues. I’d be nuts to dive into that life this late in the game.”

Jose remained silent. He knew the dangers of being an Arcanist were great but not to that extent. Inquisitors?

“This was informative, Elder Tessa, but my interests lie in my questions of geography?” Jose attempted to bring the conversation back to his pertinent topic.

“Apologies, Mr. Ileria. If you’re looking for information on the swamp folk of the Great Glades, I don’t think you’ll need it. The report mentioned assimilated gators monitoring the edge of their nest in the vessel and there aren’t any native villages in that area to speak of.” Elder Tessa informed him.

“Humor me for a moment and tell me about the villages and their people.”

She stared at him with an inscrutable expression before leafing through a page in a text at the top of the tower, “The Untano, or the Swamp Folk are commonly covered in scales and moss, with webbed fingers and eyes made for sifting through the murky waters of the Great Glades. This blessing of theirs can vary in intensity so they often appear like we do. Their homes are carved within the trunks of the many mangroves in the water. These folk are superstitious, often serving the spirits of the swamp as deities with animal sacrifices and rituals and wary of any outsider that brings magical items into their dwellings.” She stopped reading the passage and looked at Jose with the same inscrutable expression.

“So these Untano are native to the land. Do we trade with them? Is there, I don’t know, a chain of command or something? Like our colonies and Elders, do they have something similar?” Jose asked. This line of reasoning should be innocuous.

“Most of the Untano keep to themselves but the Vanguard work often with their hunters and fishermen. They’re in tune with the swamp in ways we are not. They point us in the direction of Nests, keep track of the few Scourges living in the area, and give us tips on turbulent weather. We clear out those Nests that might pose a danger to their village, offer resources in food and raw materials, and provide protection to their fishing spots from particularly nasty beasts. As for a chain of command…” She trailed off, leafing through another section of the text. She cleared her throat, “If you are expected to engage in diplomacy with the Untano, assess first if the commune is led by a Congregation or a Coven. If led by a Congregation, the spirit or group of spirits providing protection to the people will be wary but not outright aggressive if you follow the customs within their borders. If led by a Coven, it must be stressed to avoid interactions with Hags of any status at all costs or risk potential enslavement, irreversible damage to the soul, death, or worse. It is extremely rare to interact with a Hag and they will not make themselves known to you when you do interact.”

Fuck. It vindicates Jose’s measured approach in dealing with the woman, but the extent of her strength was still unknown.

“It seems like these Hags are a real troublesome lot. Maybe even mischievous and conniving,” Jose handed back one of the documents he had been circling, individual letters from the sentences the Elder had written meant to form a complete sentence, “And if they’re cunning enough to hide in plain sight, I’d be surprised if they haven’t been living among us already.”

The Elder took a moment to look at the document and her eyes started to widen as she pieced his message together. They locked eyes and Jose faintly shook his head, begging for her not to talk about the subject openly.

“Yes. The composition of a Coven is peculiar because of how little we know about them. We know for certain that there is a Baba of some kind. The head matriarch that embroils all other Hags into the practice. But sightings of these folk outside of their villages are unheard of.” Elder Tessa replied.

“Of course. They wouldn’t want to draw attention to themselves or their motivations, would they?” Jose stated as he pulled out the torch on his hip.

“It’s a shame that they’re not well researched but considering their fickle natures, I doubt we’d get much from knowing them in person.” Elder Tessa gestured at the torch and Jose summoned a bouquet of fire at its top. She skimmed over his message one more time and threw the contents into the flames. “You’ve certainly given me a lot to think about, Mr. Ileria.”

“I’m sorry to overwhelm you with my questions so soon but you can understand why I was so pressed to ask them?”

“I understand, Mr Ileria. Before you go, just know that my assessment of you is starkly different from my assessment of your mother; you have no qualms seeking assistance when searching for answers.”

Message received.

Jose lifted himself up from the chair and walked out of the room.