Living in the [Sanctuary] I’ve raised is liberating. I’m pleased to see it slowly become less like an austere art installation of opaque, pearlescent glass sculptures, and more like an actual home. Mikko brought back a few colorful woven rugs, then took an evening off from our schemes to craft pipes and install a tub in the back room. Rakesh produced a mountain of fresh fruit from who knows where. Melina painted murals using [In the Blink of an Eye], finishing the project in a single afternoon. Avelina pitched in with inscribing the fire enchantment she’s been learning at the Orpheus, ensuring that we have a working stove and that the tub is heated.
Soaking in the hot water is incredibly luxurious. I told her that she’s my favorite member of the team now, but she just laughed and smacked my arm, lecturing me on the dangers of such blatant lying. The uninhibited chorus of laughter that followed from my friends was exactly the kind of lighthearted camaraderie that I need to continue recovering from the insidious effects of the corrupted violence that twisted me up inside.
I feel healthy. Whole again. Which means it’s time to act like a psychopath.
I’ve been putting off this part of the plan out of fear that it will lead to a relapse. I don’t want to regress and find myself entangled in terrible mood swings again. But Avelina tells me that I’m ready, and I believe her.
It’s go time.
In preparation, Rakesh is a whirlwind of reading and writing. Every time I stumble home from another late-night session of studying scrying runes with Ozana, I find him hunched over the makeshift table in the kitchen. He dragged in some of the discarded pallets scattered around the lot, stacking them up about waist-height. A plank overtop of them gives him a solid writing surface, though it’s far from uniform.
On my way into my corner of the glass house well past sunset, I pause beside the table, watching in amazement as Rakesh writes faster than the eye can follow. Only the elegant script of words flowing across the page give evidence that he’s actually writing, and not simply waving his hand back and forth for show.
I let out a low whistle. “You know, I expected you to write a few brief letters, not to personally bankroll the ink industry in Gilead.”
The writing scratches to a halt. Rakesh squints up at me from his hastily-assembled seat of an old, splintering wooden crate padded with his wadded-up cloak on top. “Thoroughness is important, Nuri.”
“So is avoiding suspicion. This doesn’t look like an anonymous tip. The watch will know it’s a setup.”
“It will work,” Rakesh insists. “Trust the plan—or at least my new and improved version of your plan.”
“All right,” I say mildly, holding up my hand before he launches into another lecture. “The overflow of ink is truly impressive, at any rate.”
He sniffs grandly and resumes his duties. I shake my head, torn between admiration and befuddlement, and shuffle over to my bedroll to catch up on some much-needed sleep. I’m up in the wee hours of the morning, but Rakesh is up first, nodding in acknowledgement as I depart for my work in the Orpheus hot shop. Thus the cycle continues over the next few days.
Three days of reports later, I admit defeat. No matter how early I rise, I’m greeted by the same pre-dawn ritual: Rakesh sending off multiple anonymous reports to the city watch, borne aloft on the wings of the folded paper components of his Skill [Echoes of the Songbird].
He never tells me exactly what the messages say. It’s probably for the best. Every once in a while, I catch him chuckling darkly to himself as he pens a particularly nasty missive. As he goes, he checks off the list of runic repair shops he’s targeting, meticulously clearing the way for the next stage in our mad escapade.
I hope it really works.
I pause at the warded fence that obfuscates our location, and turn back to chat with my scholarly friend. “So you’ve actually become a legal expert, huh?”
He grunts, scowling at the reminder that I was right a few weeks earlier when I told him it was only a matter of time. When I laugh, he sighs wearily, giving me a cold look before he thaws out and chuckles along softly in embarrassment.
“I suppose I have, Nuri.”
My grin widens until my cheeks hurt. “Never any doubt. You’re way smarter than any [Lawyer] or [Judge]. Proud of you.”
“Thanks,” he mumbles, blushing.
My favorite part of this con is that Rakesh doesn’t protest anymore when I tell him that he’s skilled in the law of the land. He’s downplaying it, but not arguing against me, which means he’s probably memorized the entire code of Gilead law by now, and probably even dug up old, deprecated variations of the major bylaws.
I watch in silence for a moment as his growing flock of birds flit off to the courthouses non-stop with every violation imaginable. At this rate, he’s going to become an honorary officer of the [Inquisitors] for his underhanded deeds. I imagine Xharrote will watch his career with great interest. He loves this kind of cloak and dagger work.
“Lotta birds, though. You sure they aren’t gonna trace them back to us?” I ask him for the third or fourth time. He doesn’t like my doubt, but it’s hard not to worry as I watch the first rays of dawn dance along the creamy off-white papers, lighting them up in glorious color. I can’t help but chew on my lip while I consider the potential security risks.
“It’s a valid concern,” Rakesh begins gravely, which makes me nervous. Then he winks at me, and I realize that he’s already solved the problem and is just taking the opportunity to get me back for teasing him about becoming an honorary lawyer.
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“You figured out the diversionary wards?” I ask in a rush, excitement making my voice come out in a squeak.
“Who do you think I am? Of course I did,” he replies, crossing his arms and posing like a [Hero] in the sunlight. “But just to be safe, I’m sending them on circuitous routes. I also never let the birds return. I release my mana connection after they deliver the notes. Our location should remain secret.”
“Good thinking! I’m glad you’re on our side, buddy. I’d hate to try to track down people who can hide like that.”
He puffs up his chest with pride at my praise. “I tested them on passersby numerous times, using blank papers just in case they were intercepted. With the wards, people overlook the papers. Their gazes slide right by.”
“Incredible. Teach me?”
It’s quickly becoming obvious that despite my head start in the runic arts, Rakesh has surpassed me as a master of the language. For some reason, that’s exciting to me. I expected the day to come, given Rakesh’s incredible proclivity for learning new information, but I always thought it would be a bittersweet development. Like I’d lost to a competitor. Instead, it’s a relief to have such a dedicated teacher.
He withdraws a few sheets of folded paper from his breast pocket and extends them to me. “A step ahead of you. I’ve written the pertinent runes down for you. Flood this with mana, and it should give you a temporary version. I expect you’ll need them for today’s shenanigans.”
I bow before taking the gift. “You’re the best, Rakesh. Thank you.”
“Go on. Busy day,” he says, done preening. Now that I’ve moved on to flattery, he’s not comfortable talking up himself anymore.
It’s becoming one of my favorite tactics to use when he starts bragging. He enjoys when we recognize his genius, but if we pour it on too thick, he gets flustered.
I pocket the paper and wave goodbye, making my way to the Orpheus. I study the runes in between breaks in the hot shop. When my lunch break finally arrives, I scan over them one last time, impressing them on my memory, and take my leave, heading for the riskiest step of our crazy scheme.
=+=
“Let me see my friend!!”
My roar echoes across the Mender campus, making people slap their hands over their ears at the skull-splitting volume. “I’m done asking nicely. Let me in or face my wrath!”
“Please! I know you’re concerned, but he’s stable now. Turn away peacefully, Sir [Mage]. We don’t have any new information for you at this time!” a young Mender pleads with me. Her dusky complexion is ashen with fear as she faces down my scowl. Her legs tremble against the pressure of my Domain, but she doesn’t back down.
That courage must be why they picked her. She can’t be old enough to be a full-fledged Mender yet. An intern of some sort, perhaps? I’m impressed by her backbone, but I force myself to stick to the script and act like an enraged and unreasonable menace to society.
“Cowards!” I bellow, stomping closer and finally making her scurry away from me as she gives in to her terror. I take a deep breath and infuse mana into my words, letting them boom for everyone to hear.
“Bah! What a disgrace! I heard that the Menders were once a hallowed institution. Yet here they are, sending an intern not even in the First Threshold yet to meet me. Me! I will not stand for this indignity!”
My belligerent, mana-empowered shout reverberates along the packed streets, sending pedestrians stumbling as the might of my Domain unfurls with murderous intent. I march back and forth just on the edges of the Menders campus, in plain view of the scrying system, as I continue to loudly demand entrance to the medical facility.
Inwardly, I feel sick. This kind of unstable anger is exactly why I got rid of violence. Yet I have to sell the ruse before we can move on to the next step. This is only phase one of three.
“You know why you’re Menders? Because you’re not fit to be called real [Healers]!” I jeer at the top of my lungs. “Only a bunch of cowards and charlatans try to keep a concerned man in the dark while his best friend dies.”
By now, the massive public square is almost empty. People are fleeing as fast as they can in every direction, scrambling to escape before things escalate. In truth, I’m equally nervous about the fallout; I don’t want anyone to get hurt if an actual fight breaks out in front of the main Mender building. I’m here to lean into my reputation, not to harm anyone.
Thankfully, I don’t have to posture and shout for long. At the edge of my range, I sense two new mana signatures moving toward me. Unlike the tiny candles that represent most people around us, these two are raging firestorms. Intensity that undeniably marks them as Second Threshold mana signatures.
With a whispered prayer of relief, I activate phase three of my plan: running away as fast as I can.
Mana blazes through me like liquid fire, burning as I force enormous amounts of power into my muscles and strengthen my legs to propel me along. I don’t want to outpace the guards too soon, but I also can’t get caught in a fight. It’s a delicate balance to maintain while sprinting more quickly than I’ve ever run before.
Through my expanded mana senses, I check the scrying sensors. I have to make sure phase two isn’t a total disaster. Before I’m out of range of the alarm system, I send out another huge pulse of my Domain, targeting the system with concentrated bursts of power.
I grin when they go dark in the mana sight of my [Arcane Domain]. Right on schedule.
My pursuers are almost upon me, catching up more rapidly than I accounted for. Shatter it all! They must have some high-ranking movement Skills!
I put on a burst of speed and fling myself to the side, narrowly avoiding a blow from a staff that would have split my head open like a melon. I marshal my Skills, freezing the ground beneath them while hitting them with the weight of my Domain, and the two cry out in surprise as they faceplant on the cobblestones.
I sprint down the street, taking advantage of their momentary delay, and leap around a corner. As soon as I’m out of view, I activate the paper Rakesh gave me and dart through a door to a nearby book shop. I retract my Domain as much as I can, holding it within my core so that my mana signature is suppressed. I calmly and quietly slip behind a bookshelf and sit down at a small table in a reading nook, hiding my face behind a book.
Time for phase four.
I surreptitiously activate the paired communication paper Rakesh loaned me, signaling the Linas to release my secret weapon: a handful of glass golems all attuned to my mana. The signatures they release aren’t quite the real thing, but it’s close enough that I’m counting on the [Headmistress]’s bodyguards taking the bait. By the time they wear themselves out chasing ghosts through all of Gilead, I’ll be in position and ready to go.
I grin despite the nerves that make my hand tremble on the book I’m holding. For far too long we’ve been taking things as they come. Now it’s our turn to dictate the game we’re playing. And I’m just warming up.