Some idiot stood on the stage in the gymnasium. His back was straight, his blond hair styled neatly to the side, and his red school uniform freshly pressed.
All eyes were on him as their principal’s amplified voice carried his praises through the tidy rows of over four hundred students.
“Ryan Payne surprised us during her entrance exam. Her mastery over the spear was remarkable enough on its own, but it was her behavior toward her fellow applicants, some of whom she had met on the day, which truly caught our eye.
“We challenged you, new students, with monsters and puzzles to rival the guardians of the Towers. Ryan Payne could have secured her path to victory with ease, but rather than focus on her own challenge, she hurled her spear into the testing field of a neighboring applicant to aid them, risking not only her chances at victory, but disqualification itself.” Principal Denner cocked her head. “Why was that, Ryan? Answer us truthfully.”
The idiot’s face twitched as he tried to hide his embarrassment. When he spoke, the illusion broke, “Because we’re all in this together, aren’t we?”
It wasn’t a male voice, the short blond hair was replaced by a messy black bun. The stern expression with brown skin and a shaky smile. Zehra Kalkir, the freshman who had been invited to speak at the entrance ceremony this year, stood where Ryan had a year ago.
“I wasn’t even sure if I should attend school or take a year off to explore the Tower. All the changes, all the news and rumors …”
She mumbled her words. She seemed distracted as her eyes searched the crowd. They didn’t wander anywhere near where Ryan stood in the far back, surrounded by familiar faces that he hadn’t seen in months. His classmates.
“It sounds exciting. Especially what they wrote in the papers this morning.” Her nervous laughter was echoed by a handful of students in the crowd.
She pushed up on her tiptoes and suddenly, her smile widened and her voice strengthened, “But it wouldn’t be nearly as exciting if I did it on my own.”
She must have found whatever short face she had been looking for.
If Ryan peered through the maze of bodies, a few rows to the right, he could sometimes spot a familiar short face of his own. To his left, he saw Navid and sometimes Anne, but Lisa stood too far away.
The gymnasium was packed to the brim now that the student body had nearly doubled in size. And they stood because there wasn’t enough room for chairs.
Ryan wondered what the school would do about that next year. He wondered if he would even be around to see it … though maybe for different reasons than before.
He looked down at his shoes and splayed his hand. With a brief pulse of mana, the air around his fingers shimmered like the end of a hot road. Translucent claws flashed and dispersed as he clenched and unclenched his fingers.
Ryan smiled.
“I want a team, a company, all of you by my side … but if I am being honest, Principal Denner, I helped out because I felt like it.”
Ryan heard the amusement in her tone. He remembered the way she’d quirked her lips a year ago. Almost the same words. “Well, thank you for your candor. And thank you for your insight. I agree. Those of you who have read the papers this morning might know, we are living in exciting times indeed. Now more than ever, excellence, solidarity, and courage are the values we should strive for. In the coming year, we will strive together. Thank you, Ms. Kalkir.”
The crowd applauded as she stepped off the stage. It was far more contained this year when they were all standing on their feet and the freshmen had the sophomores to temper their reactions. They had been through this all once before, and they had other thoughts occupying their mind.
Ryan spotted more than one classmate shift on their feet and glance at the doors or the clock on the wall. Sometimes out of boredom but more often than not it was impatience. They had come to the entrance ceremony right after gossiping at breakfast.
Ms. Denner must have sensed the crowds’ energy. She met them halfway. Her posture relaxed and she spoke less formally. “I know it might seem uncharitable to mention these things when you feel like you are here and not out there with the excitement. I can see the questions burning in your eyes, but I can confirm some of the rumors:
“Yes, there are aliens in our Tower. Ghosts. They are the memory of an ancient species of sentient humanoid bird people. During a student gathering of our school last Friday, some of your classmates and I made first contact with both malevolent and benevolent members of these beings. They refer to themselves as ‘the Avashay,’ and they appear something like this—”
She gestured. Three illusory figures joined her on the stage.
Ryan saw iridescent feathers and hanging wings, large beaks, and intelligent eyes. An alien tune drifted through the rows beneath the noise that erupted from the crowd. It sounded like birds singing.
He listened and stared with parted lips. Like an idiot.
----------------------------------------
“Honestly, Denner, I don’t understand why you didn’t just light em’ up then and there,” Kerem joked. “Start a war. Get this over with.”
Ameryth eyed her former employer—more of a coworker, really—out of the corner of her eye. She spoke to him not as a longtime companion, but as one of the heads of the Climbers’ Guild in front of the other attendants of this security council. “Be serious, Bashir.”
Twenty-five people had taken up the largest meeting room in the army facility. It was barely enough space, less than what they deserved.
The Mayor, nine of his fifteen cabinet members, two of their generals, and one of their archmages were in attendance, as well as two heads of the Climbers’ Guild and everyone’s subordinates crammed into the corners.
Documents, snacks, drinks, and personal belongings littered the table. The air thrummed with overlapping auras like the last heatwave of the dying summer.
Ameryth had worked with Bashir for years. She had worked with the other heads of the Guild and the Secretaries of Magic and the Tower, and worked under the generals and the former Secretary of War during her military service—though she had known the new one before he had been promoted.
She was acquainted with the Secretary of Order, a Tor, and the Archgamut, though she would rather have not known her. The other half, she mostly knew by reputation.
Luckily, she had never screwed up so badly in her youth that she had had to make the acquaintance of the Secretary of Justice, Christopher Heswaren.
The elderly man shot Bashir an annoyed look, and the casual glance across the table alone felt like twin suns burning a field of grass at dusk.
Bashir sat up. “I’m just wondering why you didn’t do it,” he defended himself lamely. “‘Attack first, ask questions later’ seemed to be your favorite bit of advice over the years.”
Ameryth gently pressed her fingertips down on the surface of the table. These were some of the most important people in the city. She tried to will the man to shut up with a look alone, though she couldn’t be as obvious about it.
“My students were on that hill. They were preparing a meal with the avashay. I didn’t wish to ruin their efforts, traumatize them, or give them a reason to drop out. It was a good thing, too. We need information … which my students are providing in abundance.”
When she had heard that three of her students had gotten memory Skills, she’d wanted to pump a fist in joy. Then she had heard the details, good and bad, and grinned all morning.
“Not much of it has been relevant to our discussion so far,” the Deputy Mayor said, “but Jeric will continue to keep us informed.”
She laid a folder down and nodded at Illyn. “My primary concern is whether we are being played for fools. Archgamut, what can you tell us about their claims of resurrection?”
Kanaan Illyn straightened a fraction at the corner of the table near the door, one leg folded over the other, wearing a sleeveless dress that almost looked respectable. Her graying hair was tied into a braid, and a lattice of magic pulsed within her: a spell to improve her posture.
Fitting. A magical spine for the woman who lacked one.
“Nothing conclusive. They are not spirits nor are they flesh and blood. The closest thing I could compare them to would be unmade or simulacra, which could provide a form of resurrection … from a certain point of view.”
“So you believe this is the language barrier at play then?”
“No, though I wouldn’t dismiss the possibility. If they are simulacra, these are the most sophisticated ones I have ever seen. They ate food. Their ‘bodies’ digested it. I do not know if they gained anything from the experience or if they had to expend energy to go through the motions. I could not detect any structured bonds to connect them to an original body in another location. But I am not a dedicated diviner. The most advanced divination spells I can cast are the medical diagnostics Rami taught me—and those worked. I have memorized templates of what their biology should be, even if they lack any.
“If these are simulacra, each one of them was created through great effort by a dedicated summoner, or else there is another factor at play that is unknown to me. If they are capable of resurrection, we have no idea which form that will take, its methods and limitations—or at least, there was no mention of that in the reports Gamut Denner provided.”
She glanced at her, and Ameryth ignored the look and comment.
“What about this ‘Woris?’” Secretary Tor asked. “Have we found her yet?” He presented a stoic expression, but Ameryth could feel the emotions burning beneath his exterior—impatience, determination, and even a bit of indignation and contempt.
She could guess why: he didn’t like that he had to rely on other factions for answers. But the settlement Bastion had found housed thousands of avashay. This was an issue for the army, not [Demon Hunters].
The Secretaries of Magic, War, and the Tower glanced at each other, passing the question from one person to another with fractional frowns and nods until it fell in the lap of a subordinate who sat next to the wall.
He was a soldier in his late twenties, maybe. When almost all of the eyes of the security council fell on him, he stiffened and replied a bit louder than necessary, “Not yet, Mr. Secretary. We have been trying to divine her location at regular intervals throughout the night, but it has been difficult with only a description and a name to go on. We have had mixed results in trying to scry on other avashay, so we cannot accurately determine if our failure is because Woris is deceased or because she is not in the settlement.”
“The group below us will break for lunch in a few minutes,” the Deputy said. “They will have made sketches. Send someone to collect them to use as foci in your spells. You can also ask the Registrars who assisted in the investigation to help you. If necessary, we will invite the boy … Micah Stranya …” She hesitated, her voice uncertain as she read the name off the report on the table. “ … back in to assist the diviners with his memory.”
The Mayor perked up at the end of the table. He was a hearty man only a few years older than Ameryth herself, with pale brown skin, short hair, and a trimmed beard that was nothing more than a shadow of stubble. If not for the clothes he wore to suit his office and his perpetual retinue, he could have blended into any crowd—and he often did, apparently. Ameryth heard rumors that he liked to sneak away from his office to stroll around the city.
He’d barely paid attention to their conversation, leaning back in his chair with a look of deep consternation, but when his Deputy spoke, he suddenly sat up.
“Stranya? Like Elissa Stranya? Any rela—”
“Her youngest son,” Ameryth supplied, trying to seize the opportunity. She suppressed a wince when she inadvertently cut the Mayor off.
But he gawked at her with round eyes. “You have got to be kidding me! Another one? And he goes to your school?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Oh, this is too good. We can—” he said and stopped. His smile wavered as his heavy eyebrows dipped. “Wait, no, he’s the kid who wounded that spirit? Please tell me he’s not like his siblings.”
Ameryth hesitated. “I am not familiar with his siblings, sir.”
The Mayor turned to his Deputy, and she held up a finger and waited for a moment before relaying, “Jeric says, ‘He seems to have some of his sister’s temperament and his brother’s trepidation, though he lacks that charisma they both share in common. He is still young, though.’”
The Mayor groaned. “Where is Maya Stranya nowadays anyway?”
The Secretary of Foreign Affairs sneered. “Last I heard, she was fighting a war against Myconids in the North.”
“Great. Let’s hope we won’t have to deal with the fallout of that, too. If she leaves any of them alive. Doesn’t Elissa have another kid? What’s the last one up to?”
They had to look to another assistant for that answer. Rather than check his notes, the man’s eyes flickered up as he recalled.
Ameryth tried not to frown at the tangent, but most of the people in the room had more patience for the Mayor’s antics than she did, and the Secretary of Foreign Affairs was even personally interested in hearing the answer.
“Prisha Stranya … twenty years old … graduated after two years from a school in Westhill, married an upper classmate, works at the family business he inherited, a washhouse … They are trying to pay off their debts. She has a mix of standard worker Classes. As of four months ago, she has not reached level twenty in any of them …” the assistant recounted what he could remember and awkwardly shrugged at the gathered council. “She’s a housewife?”
“Thank the Gods for that, at least. That family. That woman is always so full of pithy remarks,” he mumbled miserably. “It’s like she has nothing better to do all day than think of ways to needle me. But we can use this!”
He said ‘we’ as if he were including the entire security council in his schemes.
“I’m thinking we give her a gift basket the next time we are in session, with bloodless fruits, soaps, and cheese—stuff like that—and a card that says something along the lines of”—he waved his hands in an arc, painting the scene—”’For you and your family. I know how much you love Westhill.’ Eh? Eh?”
The Deputy sighed but actually nodded and noted the idea down.
“We’ll workshop it later. Finally, I’ll have a way to get back at her.”
“And the avashay, sir?” someone asked—Ameryth herself.
“Hm?” His chin jutted forward. “Oh. Yes, I do not like them. All of yesterday and this morning, I’ve had this … creeping sensation.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Do any of you feel that way, too? Like there are rats in the walls. They are in our Tower. The security risks alone; every single portal inside the Tower leads to the heart of our city. We would have to restructure our entire way of life to accommodate these people. From a practical standpoint and on principle alone, that is unacceptable. They have to go. However … it’s not that simple.” He rested his elbows on the table and folded his hands together. “I have been listening and considering it, and there are a few main issues we have to address.
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“We need to confirm the number of avashay that are in our Tower. Kerataraian said millions, but we suspect her to be duplicitous. I want exact numbers. The settlement Cestra-Insir discovered, we suspected to be an outpost as it is still under construction. Pijeru and Tuhrie pretty much confirmed that for us. I wouldn’t want to think the events of last Friday were a massive stunt to manipulate us, but I wouldn’t want to rule it out either. We know very little about these people, their mindset, and culture—which we will hopefully rectify with the help of Gamut Denner. That still leaves us with the questions of where their largest city is located and if they have built any other outposts.
“Lastly, yes, we need to know if they possess a method of resurrection. The two methods I have been briefed on are both abhorrent, so I fear the worst but … to be completely honest, if their method doesn’t require human sacrifice, it would be invaluable for us to learn how they do that. I want to know. Me, personally.
“For all of these issues, population numbers, settlement location, resurrection”—he counted on his fingers—”we need diviners. Now, the other cities are going to want to be involved in this, so we can kill two birds with one stone. League Secretary, I want you to contact Anevos and ask for their diviners. They’re better than our own, we all know it, and if asking for help is embarrassing, we need to make sure we learn something from the experience. Secretary of Magic, you mentioned earlier we had our best diviners searching for their city? If Anevos agrees to help, I want our second-best to interface with them, as well as anyone who is good at stealing spells or close to leveling up. Let them do the heavy-lifting and tell our guys to watch and learn. We’ll need to prepare for the worst, and that means getting ourselves back into shape— Oh, and reach out to Ostfeld and Lighthouse and ask if they can spare any of their long-ranged diviners, and tell Lighthouse we desperately need the Archwitch of Darkness to do a sweep of our city.”
The two Secretaries nodded seriously, and the assistants sitting in their shadows scribbled down his orders.
“Now, while we are on the topic—and I know some of you won’t like this—divination is not the only option we have for gathering information. We could try diplomacy.” He searched the table for a moment and held up a piece of paper.
Her eyes wandered to her copy which had been distributed earlier this morning. It was a written invitation.
The avashay worked quickly, it seemed. Or maybe they were just trying to run damage control.
On Friday, after the students had left, their militaries had agreed on a time and place within the Tower to meet. She knew for a fact her side hadn’t expected much from the meeting. A quick ‘How do you do?,’ ‘Are we at war yet?,’ and a promise to meet again, maybe.
Instead, the avashay had thrown a lunch party in the middle of nowhere, exchanged pleasantries, and extended an invitation to attend an event they intended to host, the ‘Carrefour Convention,’ and to participate in an old tradition amongst their people, the Hymnal Games.
It was supposed to be an event where their people, their civilians, could mingle and get to know one another, centered around a friendly competition of athleticism and magic.
Not a combat tournament. Actual sports and games that their youth and young adults were supposed to participate in, like gymnastics, alleyball, or ‘wing shooting’—a sport that involved diving off a wooden structure and shooting targets with a firearm, apparently.
But therein lay the problem: they didn’t have wings and firearms were not commonplace within the Five Cities.
So, the avashay had asked, did they have any suggestions?
And, they had promised, there were prizes to be won.
Ameryth could only imagine how bizarre the experience must have been for their soldiers and representatives: they had been fully prepared to accept a declaration of war, or be assassinated, and had found glamping bird people asking if their kids could go on a playdate?
“Security concerns aside,” the Mayor said, “do we even have magical sports …?”
Five people opened their mouths as if to speak at the same time, and he cut them off with a reminder, “Ones that the avashay could also play.” That severely limited their options.
“Magic sports are more common in dedicated mage schools,” the Secretary of Magic explained, “though they are most often war games, or else excuses to get drunk. The issue is that you have to possess a certain level of magical proficiency to participate. The closest thing to a national magic sport we have would be our arenas.”
“There is also the issue of weight class,” Ameryth added. “In sports, you can divide by age, body weight, and levels. For mages, this is more difficult, if there even are rules to attempt it. Those are usually lacking in games outside of class. Since magic sports are less common, you will oftentimes fill out the numbers with more powerful mages to and, well, in my experience, upperclassmen don’t like to hold back.“
“Oh yes.” Illyn nodded sagely as if she had any idea how the world worked. “Mages are fiercely competitive, and older kids can be mean. It’s not fun.”
Well, not for the less experienced students. Ameryth had had tons of fun stomping people into the dirt when she had been in school—it was better than being expelled for bad behavior outside of the games.
“I didn’t know this was such a cultural deficit for us,” the Mayor said. “Maybe we could use this opportunity to formalize the rules and encourage fair play—”
Idris Hisada slammed a hand down on the table and laughed. “Are you serious?”
The second head of the Climbers’ Guild in attendance had darker, sun-baked skin and wore more practical clothing, like he was ready to throw a chainmail shirt on, grab a spear, and jump into the Tower at a moment’s notice—if he got the chance and notice. But, like the Mayor, his days of working on the ground were over. He had enough self-control and doting subordinates to keep him in his office.
And like the Mayor, he was usually a very sociable man but had spent this entire time in silence. Not in deliberation—seething. She could feel him brewing on the edges of her perception like a storm of emotions.
Fear, and excitement, and impatience, and triumph, and anger.
So much anger.
In that way, he was a lot like her. Ameryth should know. He had been her first boss at the Guild. A young, newly-appointed head of the Climbers’ Guild had resented the idea of having a mage from the Department of Magic looking over his shoulder at all times, so he had put out a job opening for independent mages to fill the role of his arcane advisor instead. Ameryth had applied and knocked her interview out of the park. Never mind her own deficiencies. They had gotten along like a house on fire.
It was only a few months in when they’d been locked into a contract, that they had realized they couldn’t possibly work together.
They had … ideological differences.
Hisada’s solution had been to swap advisors with another head, Kerem Bashir, which had worked out wonderfully. Bashir was easy-going and predictable.
Hasida, meanwhile, had dragged his complaints up the ladder to butt heads with more important people: he had made no secret of the fact that he was gathering supporters to make a run for the seat of Mayor at the next election.
And, with how dissatisfied many people were about how the city had handled the crises in the last year—especially the newest generation of voters who were closer in age to him and liked his talking points—he had a chance.
“The Dwarf is active again, the Towers are changing, ancient spirits and aliens are attacking our students and getting away with it, and we just got confirmation that safe zones do exist—I told you so!—and you want us to come up with rules for school games?”
The Mayor glared at his would-be usurper and tilted his face away from him. “I’m sorry if your brain is only capable of tackling a single issue at a time, Mr. Hisada, but I have not forgotten about the spirits. I was getting there.”
“Yeah? When are you going to get around to giving me the money I asked for? I told you we should start building bases in the Tower. I told you the unspoken rules have changed. You told me I was impatient. Well, look at where we are now!”
It really was a shame they hadn’t gotten along, Ameryth thought. Idris Hisada wanted to colonize the Towers.
“In a completely unforeseeable situation which has nothing to do with your proposal at the time,” the Mayor countered.
“Times have changed. Look me in the eye and tell me the Army wouldn’t benefit from having bases in safe zones that the Climbers’ Guild built for them.”
The Mayor wasn’t even looking at him while they argued, but that meant he could see his two generals and the Secretary of War shift and tilt their heads toward Hisada in silent agreement.
He stewed for a few seconds before he got over himself and said, “Even if I wanted to agree to your proposal, I do not have the relevant documents on hand and, unfortunately, Secretary Khan was not able to attend this council.”
Truly unfortunate, Ameryth agreed. She would have enjoyed having another friendly face and actual peer around, not to mention some eye candy.
“We will have to schedule another meeting between the relevant parties to hammer out the details of—“
“As soon as possible,” Hisada cut in.
“Yes.” He sighed. “As soon as possible, okay? Now can we get back to the ancient spirits threatening to drop our city into the Sea of Dreams?”
Secretary Tor scoffed. “The House of Tor is scouring its records to compile every scrap of relevant information it has on these spirits. Yet, if a level twelve [Alchemist] child can wound them with a [Spirit-empowered Reach] Skill he got from his Path, then I am not too concerned about the threats Kerataraian made.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“That leaves the Dwarf,” the Mayor ruminated.
It was a heavy topic. All of the Secretaries weighed in with carefully-worded thoughts and things left half-unspoken, but in the end, the Mayor simply shook his head and huffed.
“If the Dwarf wants us to do something, she can come down here and ask us herself. Whether there are a thousand or a million of these avashay, I want to move them out of our Tower to … someplace else. I honestly do not care where, but I am sure we can workshop it. Christopher, would your grandmother rip my heart out for that?”
He smiled as if he were joking, but Ameryth felt a spark of genuine mortal terror in his throat: that was how Lady Heswaren had dealt with their predecessors, the leaders who had stood aside and let the Church do as it pleased. She had reached through their chests and torn their hearts out.
Their nation’s second revolution was called the Bloodless Revolution for a reason, because the Heswarens, an unexpected ally from abroad, and a small group of revolutionaries had gone for the throat of the regime, killing dozens of leaders level forty and above in a matter of days—and that had been before their family had even had levels.
The Secretary of Justice pondered the question for a long moment while the others conferred with their assistants and the people sitting around them.
Illyn tried to speak to her, and Ameryth ignored her.
“I doubt it,” Heswaren concluded. “It is cruel, perhaps, if what they recently went through is true, and I doubt we will make many friends in the process, but it is necessary. The security concerns you pointed out yourself are valid. Even if we foster friendly relations with the avashay in our lifetime, we cannot predict whether that friendship would endure. We owe it to our children and our children’s children to ensure the safety of our descendants.
“The issue then is one of methodology: how exactly do you plan on relocating millions of people, who may or may not agree to leave, with as much honor as possible?”
“If they attack us, we will defend ourselves,” one of the generals said.
“Indeed,” Heswaren agreed, “but please do not plan any false flag operations.”
“Don’t be insulting.”
“Sorry, I’m merely stating it for everyone in this room.” His eyes wandered, twin suns sweeping over them all.
“This is a logistical nightmare in the making,” the Mayor mumbled. “We will need to expand the railroad project, build boats, build shelters where they can rest along the way …”
“I believe I know a man who could help us with that,” the Secretary of the League spoke up. “His name is Decaltrow?”
Half the people in the room perked up, some warily, but the Secretary of Justice looked delighted by the proposal. “I could reach out to him myself, if you believe that would help?”
She nodded eagerly.
“Good idea. Food,” the Mayor went on. “Would we need food …?”
“They seemed to enjoy eating,” Illyn said, “and they brought their own supplies to the dinner in prepared crates which I think means they eat …? Oh! But wherever you send them, it should probably be someplace with lots of natural magic. I don’t know if it matters because again, simulacra, but they were originally a sorcerous species who adapted to the ambient magic in their world. They might require a magical diet or they will become frail and sickly.”
“Great. So we also have to send explorers out to find magical islands somewhere out in the sea. Or send them across the sea,” he joked.
“We could consult the avashay themselves about these matters,” the Secretary of the League went on, “I’m sure they would like to have a say in how they are transported and where they’ll be moved to, should they agree.”
That way lay disaster, Ameryth thought, so she cut in, “Even if we extend a hand of diplomacy and present a friendly face to these people, and even if we accept their invitation to these games, we still have to prepare our people for the possibility of war, both practically and culturally. I know our history. I have faith in my city, but we have been at peace for over forty years. It is no secret that we have grown … complacent.”
Ameryth glanced at choice people around the room and held up the papers. “I am not opposed to the idea of accepting their invitation,” she said in a carefully measured tone, with a casual but confident posture in her seat. “It is an opportunity for our newest generation of young adults to grow and learn and secure our future. We can gather information while we attend, and if it keeps the avashay happy enough to avoid a war, but in case it doesn’t, what we say to them and what we say to our own can be two different things.”
They listened to her. Ameryth’s heart pounded in her chest as surely as if she were wrangling a titanic beast.
Even Christopher Heswaren considered her with those blazing eyes he had inherited, and all he said was, “Be careful not to overdo it. The intent should be to save lives by putting our people in the right headspace to defend themselves, yes? Not to foster ignorance and hatred that will cost countless lives for generations to come.”
Ameryth dipped her head in agreement. “Of course, Secretary Heswaren, my concern is for the future of our nation as well.”
Some of the intensity left his gaze. In a quieter voice, he said, “Please don’t disappoint Anne, Principal Denner. I think she may actually like you as a teacher.”
Ameryth blinked and leaned back in her seat as the conversation moved on.
“Uhm,” Illyn raised her hand like a child in a classroom. “If we have to let the other cities get involved anyway, and if we need mages to spy and play in these games, why don’t we go all out? Archmuse Merida had this idea before he died, and it never got off the ground, but he wanted to bring everyone together.”
Oh no, Ameryth thought.
“Everyone?” the Mayor asked.
“Yeah, all of the—”
Someone knocked on the door.
The meeting had gone on long enough that Illyn did not have their undivided attention. Ameryth was the first person to look away, and some of the others followed her example.
She tried to appear bored while the Deputy Mayor spoke to a soldier, but her mind raced because she knew exactly what Illyn had been about to say.
The Mayor invited Bastion into the room. He had a cup of coffee for her and some advice for the security council.
And Archgamut Illyn opened her stupid mouth and put an idea out into the world.
“Yes, there are aliens in our Tower. Ghosts. They are the memory of an ancient species of sentient humanoid bird people,” Ameryth announced to her gathered students, and even her staff seated on chairs along and around the stage paid rapt attention to her words.
“During a student gathering of our school last Friday, some of your classmates and I made first contact with both malevolent and benevolent members of these beings. They refer to themselves as ‘the Avashay,’” she said, as one might say, ‘the humans,’ “and they appear something like this—”
With a wave of her hand, she conjured three illusions to join her on the stage. The reaction was immediate.
Bursts of surprise and excitement lit up in the sea of faces like fireworks in the night. Her students leaned over in their seats to slap their bench neighbors on the arm, smile, and point.
See!?, their expressions proclaimed as she confirmed the rumors, and, “See!? I told you so!,” some of her more excitable students, first and second-years alike, told each other.
Skeptics turned where they sat or stood to gape at gossipers. Bodies swayed like curious owls to get a better look at the stage.
It wasn’t all sparks and showers, though. Waves of confusion and aversion swirled around their shadows like miasmic winds.
There were murmurs of antipathy, of continued skepticism, of the words, ‘Northerners,’ and, ‘beastkin.’
And a rare few heads had exploded with bursts of color like clouds of summer dye.
In the far back, Ryan Payne stared at the stage with open wonder until he noticed the same things she had. He tilted his head as he glanced around, not quite looking at any one person as he listened to the murmurs of his classmates, and quickly replaced his smile with a wary frown.
Ameryth didn’t pay close attention to their emotions beyond that. She had expanded her awareness to cover the gym, but she only wanted to see if her words elicited the desired response.
That wasn’t any one emotion. It was a qualifier of emotion: ignorance.
“I can assure you this is not some Northern plot,” she went on with feigned amusement, glancing at a few of the skeptics, “nor do the Avashay behave like the ghosts of Trest at the Rock. They are far more intelligent and they roam the Tower. They also have a solid grasp of our language. Representatives of our city and representatives of their factions are already in communication, and the city is taking measures to adapt.
“That is why”—she sighed and began to share the unpleasant news—”the city has announced that the Tower will once again be closed for a minimum of two weeks. In addition, anyone who would wish to enter the Tower after that time will be required to complete a seminar on the avashay and how to behave should you encounter one. These seminars will be hosted in community centers, schools, and companies all over the city beginning this Friday. I have already invited a group of such representatives to visit our school.”
She went into the details of how those seminars would be scheduled, and she felt the attention of her students waning as their impatience grew.
When the time was right, she cut her prepared explanation a little short. “I know that these restrictions can be challenging, but it is by overcoming challenges that we grow—level—and the Avashay are no exception to the changes of this last year: they have introduced the challenge of diplomacy.
“They have invited us, our city, to attend an event within a safe location in the Tower, a tradition among their kind: a great competition of athleticism and magic, with prizes to be won from the Gardens and festivities to be enjoyed around the games.
”I can tell you firsthand our city is leaning toward accepting their invitation. However, it is not so simple. Their sports and spells are vastly different from our own. Some of our city’s leaders think it would be too great of a challenge to prepare for this event at such short notice. I disagree. I believe we can overcome anything if we put our hearts to it. I know I am not alone in this belief. Which is why”—she suppressed her second sigh, which would have been more of a hiss through gritted teeth—”I have the pleasure,” she lied, “of announcing another event our city will be hosting in three weeks. We reached out to our brother and sister cities of the League, and they agreed to join our efforts within the day.
“Before the Harvest Festival, Hadica is proud to host the first Arcane Convention in over two decades!”
The Archmages were coming to Hadica.