It had been several years since Jorvanultumn had been in Hilkorultumn’s home. It was as bare as he remembered. Hilkorultumn and his fomase had never been ones for clutter. The gathering room had a low-table with a rather withered hpakrik growing—or dying—in it. There were a couple of stools, a flame-globe for light, and that was it—not even storage drawers under the low-table. There were also no decorations, though that was not uncommon. After travelling in Arnor for the last couple years, Jorvanultumn had gotten used to the human propensity to decorate everything.

Sinitïa sat on one of the stools. “So, these Darkers took Meleng?” Her voice was muffled by her numerous scarves.

“They are called Pundritta,” Jorvanultumn said. “And I do not know for sure they took Meleng, but it is a possibility.”

A succession of ice crates floated into the room. Hilkorultumn followed them, guiding the air currents carrying the crates with fluid movements of his arms. Three of the crates settled on the low-table. With no space remaining on the table, the remaining two settled on the floor beside it.

Hilkorultumn walked up to the low-table and tapped the top of one of the crates. “You’ll find everything you need in these crates. The three on the table and that one there contain my diare’s notes on each of the four currently practised disciplines, one crate for each discipline. Naturally, Davorultumn and I have updated them with what little additional information we’ve accrued over the years. The remaining crate contains what she had on the other six disciplines. You can probably ignore that one for now, but I said I’d bring you everything.”

Jorvanultumn walked over to the low-table. Each of the crates had the symbol of its associated disciplined carved into its lid (six symbols on the fifth crate).

Sinitïa leaned forward and peered at the crates as well. “What did he say?”

“Just that the crates are separated by discipline,” Jorvanultumn said in Arnorgue.

Sinitïa sat back. “That doesn’t help much.”

“I’m still not happy you’re letting her in on this,” Hilkorultumn said, still in Isyarian. “Just because Davorultumn told Mikranasta…”

Jorvanultumn reached for the mentalism crate. “I will make my own judgements on who to tell. Besides, if you’re right that the Pundritta is becoming active, you know everyone will soon have to know.” He switched to Arnorgue as he lifted the lid off the crate. “We will start with mentalism.”

Sinitïa jumped to her feet, leaned forward, and peered into the crate at the stack of folders there. She reached in and fumbled for the top folder. “How am I supposed to help if I can’t take off my mittens? It’s too cold. Besides, I’m not very good at reading, and I don’t know your language.”

Jorvanultumn gently took hold of her arm and pulled her hand out of the crate. “I will do the reading. There are images I need you to look at.” He pulled out the first several folders and placed them on the table beside the crate. Then he took the first one and sat on the nearest stool.

“Ooh, what’s this?” Sinitïa reached into the crate and fumbled around, apparently trying to reach through the space between the folders and the side of the crate. After a few moments, she pulled something out and held it up. “It’s like those decawhatsits of yours!”

“A decahedron,” Jorvanultumn said. Though this one was larger than his element decahedra.

“Yeah, that! But this doesn’t have fire or water in it. It’s got a tiny Isyar doll and snow and trees and stuff.”

“It is a…” Hilkorultumn said in Arnorgue. “What is word? Toy. It is a toy.”

Sinitïa giggled as she tipped the decahedron from side to side.

Hilkorultumn switched back to Isyarian. “I used to play with it while my diare worked. I forgot it was in there.”

Jorvanultumn smiled, but said nothing.

“I’ll leave you be,” Hilkorultumn said. “If you need me, just yell.” He left the room.

While Sinitïa played with the decahedron, Jorvanultumn began looking through the folders. The first was a catalogue of all the other folders in the mentalism crate. It would be useful. From it, he could see that the majority of other folders were each on specific identified members of the Pundritta. Since they were all past, long-dead members, he could safely ignore those folders for now. They weren’t likely to contain much immediately useful. The second folder, however, was more interesting. According to the catalogue, it contained general details about the mentalism branch of the Pundritta. He reached for the second folder.

Sinitïa giggled. “This is so fun! If you tip it this way, the little Isyar runs that way.” She tipped the decahedron as she spoke. “But if you tip it this way, it runs the opposite way. How does it do that?”

“Magic.” It was a vague, if accurate answer, but it seemed to satisfy her.

She flipped the decahedron over and giggled again. “Now he’s upside down and waving his arms around.”

Jorvanultumn motioned for her to come closer, and she sat beside him. He leaned in close and pointed at the centre of the decahedron. “The purpose is to get the figure to the centre there.”

Sinitïa squinted at it. “But how? He only runs along the outside. Even when I turn it upside down like this, he doesn’t fall. He just acts silly.”

“You have to make it fly.”

“How?”

“That is what you have to figure out.”

She frowned. “I just like making him run around. It’s funny.” She tipped the decahedron forward and giggled again.

Jorvanultumn shook his head, but smiled. He opened the folder. On the very first page were the ten signs that were meant to identify a mentalism practitioner of the Pundritta. “You can play with the toy later. I need you to look at some things with me.”

Sinitïa leaned over and peered at the page. “I told you I can’t read that. You said there were pictures and stuff.”

“There will be, but I will translate these for you. They are things you should look for when you do your painting tomorrow, or any other time as well.”

Sinitïa placed the decahedron on the low-table and sat up straight. “Tell me.”

“Okay, now remember, a member of the Pundritta—”

“Darkers, right?”

“Yes, Darkers. These are signs that mentalism Darkers might show, but they probably will not show all of them. Also, just because someone shows one or more of the signs does not mean that person is a Darker. Do you understand?”

Sinitïa curled her lip. “Sort of?”

Jorvanultumn shrugged. He could not really expect more than that. He was not any more sure of it than that himself. “Very well. The first sign is that the individual is overly personal and does not respect personal boundaries.”

Sinitïa curled her lip more. “I’m not sure I understand that. What does overly personal mean?”

“It is like if I tried to hug you and you did not want me to, but I did it anyway.”

Sinitïa’s eyes brightened. “Oh! Like when Paydamat took control of Meleng!”

“Yes.”

“So Paydamat’s a Darker?”

Jorvanultumn groaned. “No, not necessarily. She might but she might not.”

Sinitïa slumped and frowned. “I’m confused.”

“Yes, I will admit these signs are vague and not very helpful.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“If someone shows a lot of the signs, say, four or more of them, that will make them a suspect.”

“Oh, okay. What’s the next one?”

Jorvanultumn double-checked the folder. “An easy one. The individual does not respect tradition.”

“Easy for you, maybe,” Sinitïa said. “I don’t know your traditions, except the stupid ones like with Itra, and not liking those ones would make me think you’re good, not a Darker.”

“That is fair,” Jorvanultumn said. “Let us look at the other ones. The next one is the individual has a temper.”

“Like Paydamat! That’s two!”

Jorvanultumn nodded. “Yes, that is two. Next, the individual keeps many secrets.”

“How would we know?”

Jorvanultumn shrugged. “I do not know.”

“Go to the next one then.”

“The individual is quiet, introverted, and unassuming.”

Sinitïa sighed. “I know what quiet is, but what is intro...intro-what?”

“Introverted. I think that is the translation. It is someone who likes to be alone, and does not talk to other people very much.”

“Oh. That doesn’t sound like Paydamat.”

“You should not fixate on Paydamat so much.”

“Next!”

“The individual meditates excessively.”

“Huh?”

“Meditates too much.”

“Still huh? What’s too much? I saw Felitïa meditating on the ship to and from Scovese and it looked really boring, so anything would be too much in my opinion.”

Jorvanultumn sighed. She was right. There was no information included to determine what constituted “excessive”. He was beginning to wonder if there was any point to these signs. There were only a couple more left, but he decided to jump to the very last one: the symbol used by mentalism practitioners of the Pundritta.

“Let us look at the symbol,” he told Sinitïa. “All members of the Pundritta must have a symbol on them somewhere. It must be visible and cannot be hidden, but does not have to be obvious. It can be included as part of another bigger design, for example, or it can be very small and hard to notice.”

Sinitïa perked up. “I’m good at pictures and designs and stuff. I bet I can find them even if they’re teeny tiny.”

“The design can be on the individual’s skin or clothes or anything carried by that individual.” Jorvanultumn flipped the page over to where there was an illustration of the mentalism symbol. “Study it carefully and memorise it.”

“Okay, done.”

“Already?”

Sinitïa stared at him for a moment. “It’s a very simple design, Jorvan.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Jorvanultumn looked down at the design. She was right. It was very simple: three wavy lines on top of each other with a solid dot in the centre of the middle line. “Yes, sorry. I had not looked and expected something more complicated.”

“Simple designs are easier to include in bigger designs. Plus, people are more likely to ignore a simple design than a complicated one.” She beamed.

“Good point,” Jorvanultumn said.

“Very good point, Sinitïa.”

Sinitïa’s eyes widened and she grinned. “Chian!” She jumped to her feet and ran over to Chiansamorkin who was standing in the doorway. She threw her arms wide as if to hug, but at a look from Chiansamorkin, she lowered them again and approached more calmly. They touched foreheads.

“You’re learning,” Chiansamorkin said with a smile.

Jorvanultumn stood up and approached. “She has a good teacher, I think.” He touched foreheads and wing tips with her.

Chiansamorkin grinned. “And to think, I’ve barely started. So what’s this about simple and complicated designs? Designs for what?”

“Darkers!” Sinitïa said.

“Darkers?”

“Darkness Worshippers,” Jorvanultumn said. “Where is Fevionawishtensen?”

“She wouldn’t come. She won’t leave the search, but says she’ll see you later. So, fill me in?”

This was awkward. He really did not want to tell Chiansamorkin before Fevionawishtensen, but it seemed there was no other option. Besides, he had told Sinitïa already—although telling her somehow felt different. Because she was human? It was hard to say, and it did not really matter. Fevionawishtensen would surely understand, given the circumstances.

“We are learning about a group called the Pundritta,” he explained. “My family has apparently been searching for them for many generations.”

Chiansamorkin took a step backwards. Her eyes darted back and forth. “Pundritta?”

“Jorvan thinks they took Meleng.”

“Not necessarily,” Jorvanultumn said. “But it is a possibility. Hilkorultumn’s diare compiled many notes on the organization and we—”

Chiansamorkin barked a laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

Jorvanultumn shook his head.

“There are Darkers everywhere,” Sinitïa said. “They’ve been hunting Meleng and Jorvan and Felitïa for like a year now.”

Chiansamorkin shook her head and walked over to the low-table. “But the name Pundritta implies an Isyar group.” She looked at the crates on the table and the floor beside it. “There are no Isyar Darkness Worshippers.”

“I was horrified by the thought as well,” Jorvanultumn said. “A part of me still has doubts, I think, but it is foolish to believe that Isyar are beyond corruption.”

“Yes, but a whole organization? The name implies a council like the Lamdritta or the Lordritta ruling over or running a group of others.”

Jorvanultumn nodded. “Exactly.”

Chiansamorkin gave a forced laugh. “Oh come on, Jorvanultumn. Where have they been? Why has no one heard of them?”

“They operate in secret, obviously.”

“Yes, but even in secret, an organisation that has been around for generations? There would be rumours, legends. I’ve never heard anything. And if your family has been hunting them, why have they never told anyone else?”

“We are sworn to secrecy.”

She laughed. “Yeah, that’s a policy that will get you far.”

“That is why I am breaking that secrecy.”

“Everyone will think you’re mad and several of them are already not well inclined to you at the moment. Keep going this way and they’ll banish you at best, and you’ll never find Meleng Drago.”

“Chiansamorkin, do you trust me?”

She sighed and leaned on one of the crates on the low-table. “Yes, of course I trust you.”

“Then trust me on this.”

She rolled her eyes. “Trusting you does not mean I think you’re incapable of being wrong.”

“Just look at the files with us then. If you think they are nonsense afterwards, then...fine.” Given how helpful the notes had been so far, he doubted they would convince her if she was this adamant—and he supposed he could not really blame her. But he had expected her to be a little more open-minded, enough to at least consider the possibility. She had not had any issue accepting that an Isyar was responsible for abducting Meleng.

“All right, fine,” Chiansamorkin said. “Let’s look at these files. I see you’ve opened one of these boxes. Mentalism by the looks of it.”

Jorvanultumn nodded. “I thought it was the best place to start since we know Meleng was abducted by a mentalist.”

Chiansamorkin pulled up a stool beside Jorvanultumn. “Makes sense. So let’s look at mentalism.”

“We were looking at signs that help identify members of the Pundritta.”

“Paydamat fits two!” Sinitïa said.

“Does she?” Chiansamorkin said.

“At least. Some of the signs are hard to tell, like what does it mean to meditate too much?”

Chiansamorkin snorted. “That’s one of the signs?” She gave Jorvanultumn a look. “Surely it’s more specific than that.”

Jorvanultumn shook his head.

Chiansamorkin put a hand to her head. “This is what you’re trusting to help find Meleng Drago?”

Sinitïa fumbled for the folder they had been looking at and held up the picture of the mentalism symbol. “But they have symbols! See? We can look for these.”

Chiansamorkin looked at the picture. “Okay, that’s something a little more tangible. So we need to look for someone wearing this symbol?”

“Yes,” Jorvanultumn said.

“Then let’s go do that.” Chiansamorkin jumped to her feet.

“Why are you so intent on stopping us from doing this?” Jorvanultumn asked.

“I’m not. I just…” She pointed to the picture. “If that’s what we’re looking for, shouldn’t we go look for it instead of sitting here?”

“There are other symbols to learn. We started with mentalism, but we should learn the others too. Whoever took Meleng may not be acting alone. We should learn the other signs too. They may not be very helpful, but they might provide us with...something.”

“Fine.” With a sigh, Chiansamorkin grabbed the conjuration crate and dragged it to the other side of the table, where she pulled up another stool. “I’ll do conjuration. It’s my discipline. I might have better insight.” She took the lid off and pulled out the first folder, grumbling the whole time.

“If it is like the mentalism crate, the first folder will be a catalogue. You want the second folder.”

Chiansamorkin eyed him, dropped the first folder, and pulled out the second. She opened it with a very exaggerated motion.

“Thank you,” Jorvanultumn said.

“I think she’s a little upset,” Sinitïa said quietly.

Jorvanultumn could not blame her. He would have to make it up to her later somehow. He put the mentalism folders back in their crate, and reached for the remaining crate on the table. “We will do enchantment, Sinitïa.”

“Meleng’s discipline!”

“Yes.” He took only the second folder out this time and opened it, glancing briefly at the signs. “The individual considers themself cleverer than everyone else,” he read aloud.

“What if they really are cleverer than everyone?” Sinitïa asked. “Like Meleng.”

Chiansamorkin barked a laugh.

“He really is cleverer than everyone!” Sinitïa said. “I mean, I think...Clever means smart, right?”

“That’s not what I was laughing at.” Chiansamorkin slapped her folder down on the table. “These so-called signs. Willing to disregard tradition is the first one. That would be fine if it was a rare thing, but it’s not. I told you before, Jorvanultumn, about how young people today think a lot of our traditions are outdated and should be changed. Then there’s the next one: extroverted and outgoing. Again, not rare! Hell, I’m extroverted.”

“What does extroverted mean?” Sinitïa whispered.

“Opposite of introverted,” Jorvanultumn replied.

“And then…” Chiansamorkin looked about to laugh again and paused. “Get this. Sexually perverted. Seriously? What does that mean? I can guarantee you Griholbovroh has a completely different opinion than you or I.”

“Let us just stick to the symbols.” As he said that, Jorvanultumn flipped the page over to the enchantment symbol: two vertical lines, the one on the right having a hook on the top, and a solid circle between the two.

“That looks like the symbol on one of the doors where I’m staying,” Sinitïa said, “except there’s no circle there.”

“It is the general enchantment symbol,” Jorvanultumn said, “but with the circle added. A solid circle in Isyarian can represent night or darkness.”

“Is that how the mentalism symbol works?”

Jorvanultumn shook his head. “The wavy lines are completely different from the general mentalism symbol.” He looked over at Chiansamorkin. “What is the conjuration one like?”

Chiansamorkin lifted up her folder so that the back was covering her face. She flipped the page. “It’s just the general conjuration symbol with a solid circle in the centre.” She closed the folder and placed it back in its crate.

“Strange. I wonder why mentalism is different.” He reached for the elementalism crate on the floor and pulled it closer. “I wonder what elementalism does.”

While he opened the crate, Sinitïa stood up and walked around the table towards Chiansamorkin.

“What are you doing?” Chiansamorkin said.

“I want to look at the conjuration symbol.”

Chiansamorkin placed the lid on the conjuration crate. “I told you. It’s like the general symbol with a circle in the centre.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what that looks like. I have to see it.”

“Ah, right, of course.” Chiansamorkin stepped back from the crate and the table.

Jorvanultumn turned his attention back to the elementalism crate. He removed the lid and lifted the first folder out of the way to get the second.

“Jorvan?”

He looked up. Sinitïa had the conjuration folder open, but she was looking at Chiansamorkin, who was now standing by the door, a look of...was that terror on her face?

“What is it?” he asked.

Sinitïa came around the table and held out the folder. “Look.”

The conjuration symbol showed a central solid circle surrounded by a second circle. Two lines extended from the central circle, each at an opposite angle from the vertical. “That is nothing like the general conjuration symbol,” he said.

“I’ve seen it before,” Sinitïa said, still watching Chiansamorkin.

“You have?” It did seem familiar.

Sinitïa pointed, her finger shaking. “It’s the symbol in her eye.”