The twelfth day of Aleicree's visit to Sorjek was four days from the weekend, when the four would go back to the theatre. It took only another two days for Aleicree to finish copying Sea Gods' Laws. The last part of the book described rituals supposedly intended for gaining the attention of the sea gods. Unhelpfully, the rituals presumed the ability to survive underwater without breathing. Aleicree wouldn't be able to use them any time soon. Zie also doubted the rites were truly universal. Many land gods eschewed universal contact rites and responded only to custom rituals that they taught to very few dragons. Why would the sea gods be any different?
Vrekant kept dragging in his farmergon friends to eat dinner with them and they kept playing games from his collection. Aleicree got better at the games. Zie didn't get better at the conversations with strangers. Zir initial enthusiasm to help zir parents recruit for Nidrio was developing into a case of new dragon fatigue. How could zie remember all these new dragons?
Well, zie could take notes.
In the third blank book that Aleicree had brought, zie recorded the names of all the farmergons that they'd talked to. Zie retrieved zir copy of the letter zie'd sent to Taisach boasting of a few of them and wrote a little description of features of each dragon. They were all vrash, but vrash could vary in their arrangement of horns and spikes, the presence or absence of barbels, their preferred armours, and of course their base scale colours, among other things. The farmergon from the twelfth day, who opted against visiting Nidrio, was a purplish red dragon with four straight horns and a row of spikes all down her back and tail.
That was the first farmergon Aleicree took notes of, which left Aleicree holding notes about someone who wasn't visiting Nidrio at all.
Aleicree intercepted Vrekant early the morning after that and asked about the farmergons who hadn't come along as well, making the notebook a little more like a catalogue of the farmergons that Vrekant knew. Why not? These dragons knew each other. A few more pages filled under Aleicree's swift-flowing quill.
It felt a little sacrilegious to use expensive paper and ink this way. This wasn't a book being written. It was just notes that zie was taking. Maybe it was okay. These were notes about potential founders in Nidrio. Maybe Aleicree could find out who the 21 dragons that Taisach had mentioned were, and add them to the book. Maybe it could become a book being written... about Nidrio.
Zie didn't have a clear idea what zie was writing just yet. For now, this blank book would fill with disorganised notes about dragons visiting Nidrio. Zie could rearrange the material later by copying it into a new book, or to be thriftier at some risk to zir sanity zie could rearrange it by casting little transformation spells.
The second evening that Aleicree took notes, the farmergon who attended with them was frozen silent through much of the evening. When he spoke at all, he did so with a stammer, and seemed to be trying to say as little as he could without being rude. Aleicree wrote down his name, but his title was ‘the Quiet’, and zie didn’t think anything of him. He gave zir nothing to record, and zie thought, This farmergon is not going with us.
When Vrekant proposed the board game chest, the quiet farmergon surprised everyone in the room by pulling a fold-up board out of a travelling pouch and beginning to unfold it on the table. “L-let’s play th-th-this one, please,” he said.
Intrigued, there was a general nod of assent.
It turned out to be a board of yellow-painted fields and grey-painted castles. There were little pegs and holes in the board to mark territory, and there were big pegs carved into little vohntrai wielding swords. When the farmergon had set the board up, he unfolded a piece of paper and handed it around the table mutely. It came with instructions.
It was a territory-taking game. The pieces in the game were fighting over farmland. The winner was whoever held the largest territory at the end of the game.
Once they were set up around the table and had made their opening moves, the farmergon said, "If Theoma had famines, w-we might f-fight over food supplies, too."
"What's a famine?" Limist asked.
"Ex-exactly," said the farmergon.
Limist frowned. "No, really. What's a famine?"
The farmergon looked at Limist, that stammering anxiety visible in his eyes. "O-oh, you don't know. A famine is a mass food shortage. It's... not something that happens in this world..."
Limist asked, "Then how do we have a word for it?"
"It's, it's not in, our language," said the farmergon, shrinking in his place at the table. "It's from a p-prior world."
Vrekant nudged Aleicree with a wing. "See? They're not all gone."
Aleicree batted at Vrekant's wing, and he withdrew his wing with a grin. Zie said, "Of course we have words from prior worlds. The land gods taught the first language to the primordials. It's not like we had to make up language all on our own."
The primordials were the first dragons. They were different from more recent dragons, tending to have smaller, simpler patterns that they got set in, leading to a stereotype that primordials spent centuries in the same job without promotion or change. Teaching all the primordials the same language made it rock-steady across Theoma. For better or for worse, they rarely changed the way they talked.
Azosta moved one of the units on the wooden board for his turn, disrupting ownership of the painted map and necessitating a bunch of little pegs to be shifted around. He asked the farmergon, "What do you know of prior worlds?"
"I've heard..." the farmergon licked his lips. "I've heard that a book of translations was found by an expedition to Axorus that found a few books in alien languages."
"I'd love to find something like that," said Limist. "I could buy a house with what that would fetch at auction."
Aleicree said, "If you ever do, let me have it for a month first. I'll copy it! Several times, for rarity's sake."
"Won't be as rare after that," said Limist.
"No, but more dragons will get to learn alien languages." Aleicree smiled and raised a finger. "It might even spark a community writing in those languages just because they can."
"Eyes on the game, Allay," said Vrekant.
Oops! It was Aleicree's turn. Zie made a move just to keep the game going. Winning was unlikely and not very interesting. The conversation around the table appealed far more.
Limist nudged the farmergon. "Aren't you just a basic labourer here? Why do you know about expeditions to Axorus?"
Since he might know something about magic, Aleicree decided it was time to stop thinking of this one as 'the farmergon' and took another look at the vrash across the table. His scales were a delicate pink, and he had a mask and stripes in grey.
Zie had his name in zir notebook; he was Rhis the Quiet. With a start, Aleicree realised that this was the necromancer Dylori had said zie should meet. He’d seemed so unassuming at dinner that zie hadn’t noticed.
Rhis said, "The dragons here are v-very nice. Magic is stressful. I find the farmwork r-relaxing."
Vrekant leaned in. "Are you a geomancer, then?" Aleicree was surprised. Wasn't Vrekant familiar with all the local farmergons?
But then, Rhis did seem pretty quiet.
"N-necromancer," said Rhis, dipping his head. "I probably shouldn't go with you to... to Nidrio. Most land gods don't like necromancers moving in."
Limist laughed. "Necromancer? Why, you look perfectly lively!" he said.
"I've been… v-very careful. I want to be a l-living necromancer." Rhis stared at the game board as he spoke.
Aleicree took more notes on Rhis. He was the second necromancer zie'd ever met, with Dylori being the first. By legend, necromancers were all reality-warping undead horrors rebelling against the land gods. Dylori was definitely a reality-warping undead horror. Rhis didn’t seem to fit that mould.
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"You might visit anyways," Aleicree offered. "A careful necromancer who finds farmwork relaxing doesn't sound like a bad kind of necromancer."
"Let, let's just play," said Rhis, making another move on the game board.
Even though Rhis had surprised them all by presenting the game, his territory was middling by the end. Vrekant won the game handily, while Azosta came in second. Aleicree, having only been playing to be polite while having little interest in the game itself, did predictably awfully and was glad to see the game and all its little pegs packed up.
Aleicree never got a clear yes or no answer from Rhis on whether or not he was going to go to Nidrio, but zie got a mumbling head shake when zie pressed the point, so zie marked him down for "probably not".
Day 12 seemed like a bit of a bust. Dylori’s recommendation of Rhis came to nothing, Aleicree thought. Rhis seemed harmless, but too shy to learn from.
On the thirteenth day of Aleicree’s visit, zie went over to 2 Tavanth Street and knocked right on the door. Zie could hear clanking indoors, and after a minute passed zie knocked again, thinking zie might not have been heard over whatever machinery was being used inside. The clanking neared the door, and a moment later Dylori’s blue-white mechanical vashael suit pulled it open.
“Aleicree,” said Dylori. “To what do I owe the honour?”
“I met Rhis,” Aleicree said. “He’s so shy! But he talked, not of necromancy, but of prior worlds.”
Dylori stepped back from the door, but still held it open. “Hold a moment, let’s not talk on the threshold. Would you like to see my home?”
“I’d be fascinated!” Aleicree said, stepping through the door.
Dylori’s home was not a home. There was a small seating area near the door, an office with a stout door leading off, a door for necessities with a marking upon it such as one might see in a business, and then an open floor full of machinery. It was a rubber-floored space full of a shocking value in metal. It was ugly.
Some of the machinery had an obvious relevance to Dylori. There looked to be two spare blue-shelled suits in different conditions of dismantlement, one splayed upon a counter, another erect but ripped open in an assembly station. Other parts of the machinery didn’t look so relevant. There was a section of the workshop dedicated to a great stationary engine next to a hopper of coal.
Aleicree’s jaw dropped. There was so much money being shown off here; Dylori was clearly wealthy. At the same time, there was no taste or culture being shown. It wasn’t wealth in the ostentatious sense. It was simply expensive. The components must necessarily be of the finest make if Dylori worked on his own bodies here.
Dylori looked at Aleicree for a moment, and then said with satisfaction, “Nobody would dare steal from me.” Aleicree wondered if he could read zir mind.
“Is… Is this common for the most advanced necromancers?” Aleicree asked.
Dylori laughed. It was a great, hollow laugh again, indistinguishable from the last time zie’d heard it. It’s being repeated somehow, zie thought.
“No,” said Dylori. “This is not, but it is my passion. I would live in Wraquo where this is more common if only Wraquo were tolerant of ghosts. I do well enough here instead.”
“May I..?” Aleicree took a step away from the seating area.
Dylori clicked loudly. “Please stay in the entrance area.”
Aleicree turned to face Dylori again. “I want to know more about your suit. It’s obvious you built it yourself.”
Dylori stood tall with his arms folded. “Yes, but it’s simpler than it looks. I can reach intangibly through the machinery and shift the parts that way when I need to. Still, I’ve done my best to make the machinery real, and I spend my days researching better machinery. I sell these suits, perhaps in a thousand years you’ll buy one!”
Aleicree leaned in. “Who buys them now?”
“Why, the ghosts of Sorjek. Ghosts need some kind of insulation from the outside world, for everyone’s safety. Living in one of my suits is popular here. I have five whole customers!” Dylori burst into laughter.
It was, again, the exact same sound. I wasn’t imagining it. How uncanny, Aleicree thought. Dylori’s laughter was artificial. Zie shrank from the possessed machine, and for a moment the conversation lapsed. Dylori waited patiently for Aleicree to continue.
Remembering what had brought zir here, Aleicree asked, “What’s your relationship with Rhis?”
“Oh, we’ve talked a few times,” said Dylori in his hollow mechanical voice. “He’s a long way from where I am, and he wants to see how far he can get without suffering undeath. I sympathise, but it’s too late for me. What’d you think of him?”
“He’s interesting, but he mumbles when pressed. I feel like I’ll never see him again,” Aleicree said, grasping one of zir hands with the other.
Dylori nodded with a bit of a groan of metal parts moving. “You need to fit into his research somehow, I think. He really lights up if you can get him talking about magic. Do you think you might know anything he won’t?”
Aleicree held zir palms out. “I don’t know.” Zie smiled. “I know I’d love to see him ‘really light up’. Maybe I can search for something at the local Library of Querent-Querent. They have a section on magic, right?”
“I wouldn’t know. It’s deeply impolite for me to go to a nexus of geomancers like that. I imagine they’d be sickened by all the Fate-warping that happens in my proximity. So, I haven’t been in a Library of Querent-Querent for a very, very long time.” Dylori tapped his chin in a thinking pose. “Say, did you come here entirely to ask about Rhis?”
“I did,” admitted Aleicree.
“Well, that’s fine. I think you’ve got the best answer you’ll get, so I’d like to get back to work now. All of Theoma is astonishingly primitive compared to some of the prior worlds, and though our guiding principles have changed, a great many things still work.”
Are you also primitive? Aleicree wondered this about Dylori, but the question seemed impudent, so zie kept it to zirself.
The visiting farmergon that evening was a bright-hued red-orange vrash, strong like an experienced labourer, with broad earfins and horns that curved around behind them. Her name was Ardent, and she asked, "Are you copying down what I'm saying?"
Aleicree froze for a moment, then lifted zir head from the notebook to look at Ardent again. "Not exactly what you're saying, but some of the sense of it."
"Why are you doing that?" Ardent asked.
Aleicree did zir best to smile at Ardent, but zie was nervous and thought it probably wasn't a very good smile. "W-well, I'm hoping you'll move to Nidrio, and I'm taking notes on potential founders."
Ardent's eyes widened. Her earfins splayed with interest. "So this isn't just a social event. You're hoping for settlers."
Aleicree nodded. "Nidrio is unpopulated right now, but Praoziu hopes to change that." Forestalling a question, Aleicree added with a weak laugh, "Praoziu is my mother, the land god."
"That's quite a parentage!" said Ardent.
Aleicree clammed up shyly. Azosta rescued zir by saying, "Aleicree is humble about it, don't worry. Zie's been a seagon for decades now, just working in a basic productive job."
"Thank you," said Aleicree, smiling at Azosta. Zie felt more relaxed.
"I'm not really looking to move," said Ardent, glancing again at Aleicree's notebook. "Although I am excited to meet a land god. I never have in all my years. I didn't do the geomancer thing. It seems a bit impertinent to waste the time of such important beings."
"Impertinent?" asked Aleicree. "It might be impertinent." Zie looked to Azosta.
Azosta waved a hand over his plate. "I don't think their attention can be exhausted. Not them. They are omnipresent, you know."
Limist said, "Really! Isn't that a standard geomancer opinion? Since when do you have conventional attitudes?" And he laughed heartily at that, his head back with it.
Azosta shrugged and said, "Well, I don't think they will ever end. It's the rest of us who might see the end of the world someday if we aren't careful."
Ardent sat up straighter. Her plate was largely untouched, her meal forgotten. "The end of the world?" she asked. "You think the world will end someday?"
"I think it has before and will again," said Azosta. "I think magic does it in every time."
"But the land gods are made of magic," protested Limist.
Azosta just smiled, and Aleicree grinned at Ardent. Zie gestured to him and said, "Meet Azosta the Endseer, who is going with us to Nidrio."
"I think that secures it." Ardent reared and clawed once at the air. "I'll at least attend!"
Aleicree wrote in zir notebook of Ardent, "Not a geomancer, but enthusiastic about geomantic lore. She denies interest in moving, but I think we may have found a settler. Perhaps she would like to study geomancy under Praoziu. Perhaps she would like to live simply while having Azosta as a neighbour. I am no diviner who can say this with confidence, but I think Azosta will join us, and that Azosta and Ardent will enjoy each others' company."
The flicking speed of the lev-i-quill kept Aleicree in the conversation, which flowed around familiar terrain as Azosta spoke of his peculiar anti-magic ideas. Limist grumbled at yet another encounter dominated by Azosta, but he'd heard these things and been fascinated well enough on other occasions, so he contributed as well. And it was mage-lore of a kind that neither Aleicree nor Vrekant were familiar with, so they were attentive listeners, as was Ardent. When at length Azosta said he was "a student of dissolution," there was a ripple of laughter at the table and Aleicree decided to open a page of notes for Azosta as another founder of Nidrio.
"Theoma has lasted a thousand years, but we will be lucky if Theoma lasts another thousand years. Sometimes I think we are in the final century, and nobody will write the story of the world's collapse back into primordius," Azosta said, and Aleicree copied the words verbatim as a quote in his page.
"You are going to live with us, and I will make sure Praoziu shows you that you are wrong," said Aleicree, leaning towards Azosta.
They didn't play a game that night, but conversation about mystic nonsense occupied the five of them until an apologetic Ardent said that she wasn't looking forward to a trip home in darkness, but they had bought one for her with their conversation. "I should at least get going before it becomes a sleepy trip home in darkness," she said.
“No, by all means,” interrupted Vrekant. “I have many rooms and you’re welcome to take your night here.”
So they talked a little while longer, and Ardent bedded down in Vrekant’s house overnight.