“Highly irregular, Mistress Ozana! I repeat, this is highly irregular,” Laitu complains on the way to the scrying department. His silken handkerchief is working overtime to keep up with the shining river of sweat pouring down his forehead, and his face appears vaguely green.
It’s mesmerizing, in a gross way.
“Irregular that I’m offering you a job? I agree, Laitu. I never thought I’d see the day we’d willingly work together!” Ozana replies lightly.
Laitu moans. He looks briefly like he bit into something sour before he composes himself and continues onward with dignity. He consoles himself by muttering under his breath, far too quietly for Ozana to hear, “Who said anything about willingly?”
“I’ll donate an imbued glass piece for your trouble,” I tell the portly schemer, which is enough to brighten his mood even if it earns me a glare of irritation from Ozana. She keeps it well controlled, but after my Class upgrade, my [Arcane Domain] is harder than ever to fool. My sphere of perception is unmatched these days.
“I suppose I will go along, just this one time,” Laitu grumbles. “What a disgraceful breach of protocol! We could be drawn up on charges of insubordination! The very nerve of this brazen plan. My virtuous heart is in shambles.”
“I can see you’re a man of conviction,” I drawl, earning another eye roll from Ozana. The insincere words still seem to make Laitu stand up a bit straighter. He clears his throat and finally puts away his signature handkerchief as we come to a stop just before a wide intersection in the meandering maze of hallways.
Laitu turns toward us, straightens his waistcoat, and sighs dramatically. “The sacrifices I make for this beautiful building! Do not forget my efforts, my friends.”
With one last moment of melodrama, he dutifully waddles on ahead to perform his part. Tracking him through my Domain grows a little fuzzy as he passes through the security wards around the scrying alarm room, but the mana signatures within are still comprehensible. A few moments later, I confirm that he’s led the staffers out of the room and away from our targeted position. For all of his strange mannerisms and overly ostentatious appearance, he’s a talented sweet-talker. That must be why the Orpheus keeps him around.
“All right, we’re clear,” I say.
“You’re certain?” Ozana whispers.
I stride around the corner, chuckling at her hesitation. It’s endearing. “Sometimes I forget you’re not on my team.”
“I’m not sure whether to be flattered at your inclusion or offended by your exclusion,” Ozana quips. “What would change if I were a teammate?”
I turn and give her a serious look. “You’d take my word for it if I said no one’s around. I likely have the most well-developed mana senses of anyone in Gilead.”
She doesn’t scoff immediately at my boast, which means the gears are turning in her mind. Like a clockwork machine, she’s processing the new information and revising her opinion of me accordingly. For the better, I imagine. I hope giving away that information doesn’t backfire, but at this point she knows more about me than most. She’ll figure it out eventually, anyway. As [Chief Inquisitor] Xharrote once told me, it’s better to bargain with secrets while they still have value, rather than wait until they’re public knowledge and become worthless.
“Use that tidbit well,” I say. She smiles demurely, but I can sense how pleased she is that I’ve caught on to her role. I’ve suspected for a while that the Orpheus House trades in secrets more than goods, so this is my way of exchanging currency for the favor she’s providing. I hope we’re even now, but I doubt she’ll accept something so simple.
“I look forward to putting your mana senses to the test,” Ozana finally replies. A slight, mysterious smile curves her lips up. “Come, let’s take advantage of our time in the scrying room while we can. Laitu might spew forth a veritable fountain of words, but even he’s bound to run dry at some point.”
We pick up the pace, nearly jogging down the long hall until we reach our destination. A reinforced metal door with stern warnings printed in large, bold letters fills the entire wall at the end of the hallway, barring our way.
Ozana twists a bracelet on her wrist, and the lock disengages with a soft click. Now we simply have to pull open the enormous door to gain entrance. The door is almost comically large, especially considering that it’s currently unlocked. Useless security.
I pull my Domain close, willing it into inaction as I follow close on Ozana’s heels. As it turns out, that’s a good call. Pressure pushes back on me, buzzing against my Domain when I slip inside. The mana barrier isn’t quite as strong as the one outside Halmuth, but it’s impressive for a single room. I definitely wouldn’t want to set off the alarms by contesting the barrier with my own [Arcane Domain]. Nor would I want to answer the inevitable uncomfortable questions when I come out ahead in the war of wills.
I shake my head ruefully. Ozana could probably find all sorts of unsavory uses for that particular skill.
Focusing on what’s to come, I press through the uncomfortable sensation and close the door behind us. Now that I’m through the barrier, I can expand my Domain again as long as I’m gentle. It’s an odd sensation to let my presence seep past the wards, but it doesn’t trip any of the wards. My perception isn’t as precise as it would be otherwise. Still, it’s a workable solution. I’ll be able to give us early warning if anyone approaches.
“Ready?” Ozana asks me.
When I nod, she lifts up her hands, her fingers playing across the control wards in deft strokes, like a [Conductor] in front of a symphony. Seconds later, a detailed image flickers to life on the massive burnished mirror that hangs on the wall in front of us. The scene displays an eerie, moving replica of the Menders campus. Clouds scroll by far faster than possible in real life, replaced by the shroud of night and the twinkle of the starry vault. Sunlight burns away the pre-dawn gloom in an instant. Shadows flit about, appearing and disappearing as the days and nights fly by. It takes me a while to notice that the streaks of browns and beiges are faces of patients streaming into the Menders, blending together due to the speed of the playback.
Abruptly, a bright white light flashes across the mirror, as blinding as a lightning strike. I gape at the mirror, which freezes in place and reveals a disorganized tableau of crowds outside the Menders main healing building. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end when I realize a burst of familiar mana just hit my Domain. Is that my mana signature?
“Ah, there we go,” Ozana announces. She reverses the direction of the images, going back to just before the potent nova of energy, and nudges a controller to return the recorded scrying to real time. “You just about broke the embedded sensors on the opposite building when you ran in to see if your friend was all right.”
It’s not hard to pick myself out of the press of people, even though the figures are tiny on the wall-mounted mirror. I stare at the storm of mana swirling around the miniature version of me. I’m surrounded by a visible cyclone of my anger made manifest. It pulses with eye-searing power, cycling between blood-red and mottled gray-black in a way that’s eerily reminiscent of the strands of violence that I just excised from my soul.
“No wonder people were flinching away from me,” I mutter, deeply disconcerted by the images I’m watching.
“You want to see when you go inside the building?” Ozana asks quietly. She seems uncharacteristically solemn. “We don’t scry inside patient rooms, for obvious privacy reasons, but we have the lobby and hallway covered.”
“You’re acting like I’m not going to like what I see,” I reply. My right hand clenches and unclenches, not because I’m gearing up for a fight, but because I feel like I’m going to explode from the conflicted feelings of shame and anger. I could have seriously injured someone with the discharge of mana alone, based on its intensity.
“You won’t,” Ozana says frankly.
I nod jerkily, taking a moment to compose myself. “Thanks for the honesty. But I need to know. I can’t hide from the truth forever.”
Ozana shrugs. “Your friend was in danger. I can’t fault you for caring. I’d use whatever was at my disposal, too.”
“You didn’t seem to like it when I threatened you in the hot shop,” I point out.
She chuckles. “Certainly not,”
“What would have happened if I’d pushed the matter? Would you have protected your investment? Or cut ties?”
“Not sure,” Ozana admits.
“Let’s hope you never have to find out,” I murmur, more sure than ever that cutting out my connection to the higher-order concept was the right call.
“You seem different,” Ozana remarks. “Sorted out your inner demons?”
I shuffle in place, considering how much I want to tell her about what I did. “Let’s hope. Show me the next image.”
“As you command, Master Nuri!” Ozana says, smirking at me when my discomfort at her treatment is plain on my face. “Listen. Try not to take it too hard. You’re a good sort. I can feel it in my bones.”
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I grunt non-committedly, bracing myself for what I’m about to witness. Whatever shows up, it can’t be much worse than how I looked outside the Menders building. Can it?
Ozana twists a dial, and the image reverses. She waits a moment, then nods and lets it play forward again. Lionel’s huddled form takes up a portion of the scrying mirror. Menders of all different specializations—based on the insignias on their uniforms—bustle around him. Wisps of mana visible to the naked eye cover him as they try to help, but each time, it only accelerates the damage he takes from [Lady] Saphora’s dreadful reversed healing Skill.
Eventually, the rush of people slows, and only a single Mender remains. She bites her lip, patting his forehead with a damp cloth while conversing with Melina. I can’t hear what they were discussing, since the scrying system doesn’t seem to pick up sound, but it’s clear that the woman wasn’t giving up easily.
The image flashes white again before blacking out entirely. It comes back a few seconds later, and the Mender backs away from Lionel, her eyes wide in terror. Down the hall from her, a blurred image shows up in the scrying image, distorted by a thundercloud of mana that prevents the enchanted scrying spell from properly functioning. Rage twists the man’s features, making the visage almost unrecognizable. He looks like an avenging wraith from beyond the Rifts.
With a sinking feeling in my gut, I realize it’s me. I’m the scary monster, like an avatar of death incarnate. No wonder the Mender called for security. I don’t know how she managed to even answer my questions; everyone else in the hall is quailing in fear, fleeing before the [Mage] turns violent.
“I’m . . . not usually like that,” I breathe out, suddenly consumed by a desire to explain myself to Ozana. There’s something about the “I mean, not anymore. I, well, I’m—better now.”
“I believe you, Master Nuri. I wouldn’t have met with you if I didn’t think that. But I am intrigued to know how a Master craftsman gains such an incredible advanced battle fury. You’re no stranger to violence.”
I flinch at her words. She couldn’t have known about my connection to violence. Could she? Is she intentionally provoking me to fish for more information? I put aside the paranoid thoughts and steel myself. I straighten, looking her in the eyes, and offer a sad smile.
“You’re correct. Violence has been a constant companion for the last few years. I’ve had to do things I’m not proud of just to survive. But I’ve turned over a new leaf.”
“Everyone’s entitled to a fresh start,” Ozana says, holding my gaze with an expression that’s surprisingly tender. She looks almost grandmotherly at that moment. “Learning from our mistakes is one of the greatest things about being human. Don’t you think?”
“It’s not only humans who know how to learn and grow,” I muse, thinking back to my time undersea with the Yathawn. “But I hear what you’re saying. I appreciate the encouragement.”
Ozana’s eyes crinkle as she smiles. She fiddles with the knobs, and the scene changes abruptly, moving away from my horrifying anger to show an ornate door outside the Menders main building. Tall gates tipped with spikes tell a tale of more intense security than at the front entrance, which immediately piques my interest.
The gates swing halfway open, just wide enough to admit a carriage. It’s plain and rather unremarkable, to the point where my eyes keep sliding away from it. I shake my head, squinting at the effects of an enchantment so powerful that it warps the scrying and affects me through the image replay. Whoever’s inside the carriage must be someone significant to warrant this kind of costly transportation.
When the carriage door opens, an honor guard disembarks first, taking up positions on either side of the folding stairs. Heavily armed and armored, they’re menacing even through the scrying spell, radiating a sense of solidity and strength. I wouldn’t want to tangle with them if I didn’t have to; they’re a clear cut above the other [Guards] at the Menders.
Once the area is secured, one of the [Guards] knocks on the side of the door. A veiled figure emerges from within the carriage, lifting up the hem of her skirts as she glides down the folding stairs with dainty steps. Her clothing is immaculate, all white with gold embroidery, and shines like the sun in contrast to the dull, muted black of the carriage’s drab appearance.
Three high-ranking Menders, decked out in the emblems of their order, rush out of the large ornamental door that I first noticed when Ozana changed up the image on the burnished mirror. One of them opens the door ahead of the veiled figure. The other two sink down on their knees, reaching out and taking the newcomer’s hands between their own and pressing their lips to the heavy rings on her hands.
They all disappear inside the building shortly thereafter, accompanied by one of the big [Guards] in full plate. The remaining [Guard] continues to scan the courtyard, though the scrying cuts out a minute later when Ozana swipes the controls and the image disappears. Now only a bronze mirror hangs in front of me. If not for the practice I’ve gained through constant analysis via my [Arcane Domain], I’d have no idea that I was looking at anything special. It doesn’t even seem enchanted at first glance.
“Who was that?” I ask, confused at what I just saw. That had nothing to do with my freak out and stand-off with Mender security.
Ozana waves me off, sighing dramatically. “Oops! That’s not you. Someone just arrived at the Menders campus. I got distracted and took a peek. Silly me! Alas, client confidentiality forbids me from saying anything further.”
“We both know that you’re too skilled with that system for any accidents,” I mutter.
My powerful patron shakes her head sharply, cutting me off. “You know I can’t tell you. Now, how about we take a look at the runes powering the alarms and scrying systems? Your friend the [Researcher] seems interested in this sort of innovative, cutting-edge enchantments and applied spellwork. Maybe you could sell him on signing on here to work for us?”
“You picked an excellent bribe to distract me,” I say, not sure if it’s a compliment or a complaint. She’s entirely too perceptive. “Lead on. Let’s see what the best and brightest of Gilead have to offer in the way of runic arrays. They’re something of a speciality for my team, so I’m curious to see how your runic engineers measure up.”
“Is that a Class you’re familiar with? How exciting! I’ve never met someone with with such an exotic skillset. Are you sure you’ll understand the inner workings?” Ozana teases. “Maybe we should wait until your teammate can join us. I wouldn’t want your exclusive look to go to waste, after all. It’s not often that we let someone see our proprietary secrets.”
From anyone else, I’d find the attempt at digging into my secrets insulting. Maybe even downright hostile. Yet something tells me that Ozana means it when she promises that we’re working together toward a common goal. She profits when I’m happy. If that means bending the rules a bit for me, so be it. I have to admit, I don’t hate being on the receiving end of this kind of blatant favoritism for once.
“I’ll manage,” I say dryly.
“So talented,” Ozana says, her eyes sparkling. I can almost hear the sound of gold coins clinking together in her imagination as she looks at me. “Side room. Through this door.”
I’m still turning over her words from earlier and considering why she’d show me the obviously wealthy woman and her retinue of well-equipped [Guards]. My eyes widen as a new thought occurs to me. The only person treated like such royalty among the Menders is likely to be the [Headmistress] herself. I clamp my mouth shut, not speaking aloud just in case the Orpheus House has scrying wards in their alarm room—I would, if I designed the place—and instead I bow stiffly in thanks.
“I will remember this.”
A brilliant smile flashes across Ozana’s face. When she speaks, her voice is as playful as ever. “What, my clumsy fingers? That’s no way to treat your elders. How unflattering!”
“Shameless old woman,” I mutter, but she only grins and leads me to another locked door. This one is heavier than the other, reinforced with manasteel bands and covered in nasty looking enchantments that probably carry enough force to kill me with a blast of lightning if I try to force my way inside.
Ozana smoothly spins the bracelet on her wrist, and the door unlatches. Once again, I find myself following Ozana through a door that’s supposed to be locked. The warnings on this are even more ominous sounding than on the entrance to the main alarm and scrying room, which tips me off that I’ll probably see something immensely valuable. I’m hoping that my time investigating another way to scry will help fill in the missing details of how Azariah displayed images in his smoke. I wish I’d been able to get a closer look back then.
On the other side of the door, I’m amazed to find that the room is only about two or three paces across, and about as many long. The walls and floor are bare, bereft of any furniture or decoration. Only a large, square table that takes up most of the space is present. It’s brimming over with enchantments and control wards, most far too small and intricate to make out, and I see at once why it’s supposed to be under constant lock and key.
Immediately, I activate the analysis portion of [Arcane Domain: My Eyes Shall Pierce the Veil], scanning the arrays to get a sense of the constituent runes that make up the spells. While the [Enchanters] in charge of configuring the scrying weren’t runic experts, like the name of the made-up Class I mentioned to Ozana, they’d clearly used an excellent template to imprint the Skills of a scrying expert. Perhaps some noble house’s spymaster?
Greed rises to the surface, and I memorize as many of the runes as I can. I don’t dare write them down, in case I’m ever searched or questioned. Memory will have to do for now. In the future, I can share with Rakesh and he can break them down and standardize them for his graduation thesis. When he publishes a runic dictionary someday, he’ll be famous throughout all of Densmore—and beyond.
I snort softly. Someday far in the future, after we make good use of all the valuable runes for ourselves. We’ll have to obfuscate our tracks so that when people accuse us of stealing secrets from them, we’ll point out that they don’t have any real evidence. Or maybe we can just become powerful enough that no one will bother us. If we’re all well into the Second Threshold, then even major institutions like the Menders or the Orpheus House will have to think twice about challenging our findings in court. It’s an uncomfortably pragmatic thought, but I can’t deny that might often makes right.
“Ah, Laitu is coming back. We should probably vacate the premises,” I inform Ozana, thankful for a distraction from troubling thoughts.
Ozana sighs. “Shame. You’ve barely had a chance to compare how your masterwork stacks up against this one.”
“I’ll live. It’s been an instructive visit, as always,” I say, all too aware of how deeply I’m indebting myself to her. I don’t want to always skirt the rules, especially not if someone else is aware of it. I’m in the process of stealing runes from the Orpheus, at the invitation of one of their founding partners. If that’s not leverage, then I don’t know what is.
To my great relief, Ozana doesn’t argue with me any further. She seems to trust my claim that I can sense mana signatures, even at a distance, and leads the way out of the two rooms. Instead of returning to Laitu’s fifth-floor offices, we head down to the front doors, where Ozana makes a show of thanking me for lending my glass-making talents to their showroom. Her voice carries so that everyone can hear.
She waxes eloquent about how much prestige I’ll bring to the Orpheus thanks to my masterworks—which causes more than a few heads to turn our way. I smile and nod at each of the people who mark me out, but inwardly I’m groaning.
Sneaky saleswoman!
As we approach the exit, I thank Ozana profusely for her kindness, and promise loudly that I’ll be back soon to create another imbued masterpiece for their most discerning customers, which sets off another wave of excited whispers. That seems to satisfy her, and she sees me off with a wave and a wink.
I chuckle at her showy tactics as I depart the Orpheus and begin the trek toward the Menders. A flash of white in the corner of my vision catches my attention, and I grin as I realize that it’s a paper bird. I motion it closer, and Rakesh’s little creation flits over to land in my palm. I lean in and whisper that I’m coming to visit soon, and that I have a plan.
Who knows if others are eavesdropping, so I don’t use the communication Skill to tell Rakesh what I’ve uncovered. Even so, hope makes my heart beat faster. If Lionel is going to survive, then he needs a miracle. Thankfully, one may have just shown up.
Now we need to find a way to earn an audience with the [Headmistress] and request that she uses the fabled Azure Rod to work wonders. If its healing magic can’t restore my best friend to full health again, then nothing can.
There’s just one problem. Why is she hiding the fact she’s back in town?