Chapter 6 (Continued)

[AftermathGM]

"There is one thing, however, that I can demonstrate immediately." Holding up one hand to indicate peaceful intentions, Georg slowly retrieves his sword and lays it across his lap. "I mentioned an encounter with a corrupted uemerai. You observed how dangerous there are, and graciously did not imply that you think I'm a liar in the process." An ironic tone creeps in at that. "I had help in the form of an uncorrupted uemerai who offered me a pact." Georg removes the cover from his sword and, with a silent plea to said uemerai of 'I swear I'm not turning this into a party trick' says "Ueme." Once again, ghostly flames spring up along the length of his blade. "The upshot is that I am, from a practical standpoint, at least, an uemannala."

Antior is puzzled, though apparently not the least bit threatened, at Georg pulling out his sword. It's an impressive enough sword on its own, but when Georg activates the shadowy outline, Antior nearly jumps to his feet and gasps audibly. "Rulers of sky and earth..." he whispers, eyes wide as he watches the shadows ripple along the surface of the blade. "It's like... a fairy tale come to life." He starts to reach a hand out, then pulls it back as though he's just realized what he's doing and disapproves of the limb acting of its own accord. His eyes reluctantly lift from examining the sword to look at Georg. A slow smile, measured at first but growing more boyish by the moment, creeps over his face. "I hope you will not think less of me if I tell you just how thrilling this is. I grew up not far from the Vaelt in eastern Kasial, where the people were no fan of the Vaeltish ruling class. We cut our teeth on bedtime tales of the uemannala. I am..." He hesitates, then admits guilelessly, "...giddy. I can think of no other word for it."

After giving due time for that to sink in, Georg goes on, "The corrupted uemerai was possessing one Honored Ahanei of Obsidian College. The destruction of the uemerai ended up killing him, but I managed to learn from him that he had gotten involved in a conspiracy to bring down the Wards in order to act as Master Iene's representative and with the motive of being able to return to the Vaelt. I believe the conspiracy also ranks among its number Emmenal Angousk, Charei Firefly, and a crime boss going by the name 'Chavon.'"

Antior settles in to hear the rest of Georg's tale. At the mention of Ahanei's name, his eyebrows rise. His dedication to rules and order would normally have him far more troubled by the off-handed admission that a Scholar of his College participated in the death of a faculty member, but under the circumstances, this is only about the fourth-most unexpected thing he's heard today. If that.

At the end, Antior pinches the bridge of his nose as he considers what Georg has told him. "I should feel more gratified that my theories are borne out by evidence," he says dryly. "Ahanei has a rather unpleasant reputation, if we are being honest with one another. That he is -- was -- working closely with Iene is no surprise at all. They are both master manipulators. He will not be missed by many, though I must ask whether you are under any suspicion for your part in his death." He sighs, then continues on. "Angousk does not surprise me, as we've discussed. Nor, I suppose, does Firefly though I had not known her to be particularly enamored of Angousk. My recollection from some time ago is that they rarely saw eye-to-eye. The name Chavon means nothing to me, unfortunately. Are you aware of any other members of this so-called conspiracy? Anyone at all?"

[AftermathGM]

Finally, finally, finally, Rogh puts the finishing touches on the repairs, and Iana rushes forward as quickly as she can while still supporting Garnyn. "Thank you! I'm very grateful."

I will have to send him some sort of gift when this is all over, she tells herself - and the gratitude is sincere, even though a sharper and more sour part of her mind thinks: Perhaps a clock.

She pushes the button that will make the platform go where she needs it to, and hopes that the attacker hasn't gotten too much more of a lead on them.

There's a brief moment after Iana pushes the button where absolutely nothing happens, before the platform mechanism begins to hum once more and it rises smoothly into the air. Garnyn slumps sort of sideways and down and -- well, the awkward geometry of it all would probably be of interest to the topologists in Opal's mathematics department -- rests against the safety fence surrounding the open platform. "Whee!" he calls out. His voice cracks on the extended vowel sound and he giggles. He slides down to sitting, resting against the fence like a stuffed animal tossed carelessly against a wall. "I think I need a nap. I'm going to... nap here. You..." he trails off, waving a hand vaguely toward Iana. "You go catch the... the... whatever it is."

The platform rises to the next level and waiting there, of all people, is Katen Tinadra. She's no longer in the official blue robe of the Archivists, dressed instead in her civilian outfit of trousers and a loose white blouse, her dark hair making a mass exodus from the bun she often keeps it in. Her face is flushed and tiny beads of sweat dot her forehead and dampen her temples. "How did I know it was going to be you holding up the lift platform?" she says with a huff. "I had to walk all the way down here by the stairs," she says, waving a hand in front of her to cool her face. She's not a small woman, and Obsidian desk work is not known to be good for one's cardiovascular health, so maybe it's not a surprise she looks like she's recently run somewhere.

Maybe that somewhere is through the aisles of the Seduction Strategies section and up two flights of stairs.

"What's wrong with him?" Katen adds, looking at Garnyn half-asleep on the floor.

[AftermathGM]

Asra's lips purse thoughtfully and with concern. "I had the unfortunate pleasure of interacting with some thugs from within the city recently. When I was attempting to get information from them, they referred to the power cores as 'Keys'. I shudder to think of what one might open with a key of such terrible power, but does that trigger anything in either of your memories?"

Risine holds up her hands and takes a step back, resting her back against the doorframe. "Out of my league," she says, shaking her head.

Adaye says, "The first thing that comes to mind is that they're keys to unlock the Wards. But I have trouble understanding why Tullen would want that. He was always the one who wanted them in the first place. So either that's not what they're for or, more likely, not only what they're for. I can't help but think that..."

She trails off, her dark eyes going distant, the patterns marked on her dark skin turning a bright white.

"What if..." she says slowly. In the pause, she moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue. As she continues, she avoids looking at either Asra or Risine. "What if the Wards were never meant to protect the city? Not entirely, I mean."

Risine narrows her eyes, looking from Adaye to Asra and back again. "What are you saying?"

Adaye winces, the mere thought bringing her pain. She covers her mouth with one hand as she considers how to voice it, then places her hands palms down on her thighs, fingers pressing into her flesh to keep them from shaking. "The magic unleashed in the War... we sheltered the citizenry, the School at large as well, from knowing the worst of it. It was barbaric. The Mad King in Ardraven, the King of Rhamia, the clans of Valerma, all of them... they were beyond reason, blinded by hatred and vengeance and power. We had armies of Jade diplomats in every court, trying to talk sense into them. But we could all see what was coming. We knew we could be wiped from existence simply from the collateral damage of the next battle. Tullen proposed the Wards. He was so calm, so sure. Exactly what we needed in a Headmaster, someone keeping their head in senseless times. It was easy to go along. And they worked! Life is not easy behind the Wards, none of us ever thought it would be, but we're alive and able to consider what to do next."

Finally, she turns to the others. "I know a few things of what it's like outside. Not much, but a little. Magic rages uncontrolled. The Wards are often battered by arcane storms like nothing anyone has ever seen. Are you familiar with lightning rods?"

Risine nods. "Devices to absorb lightning during thunderstorms. Mechanists use them sometimes to power things, I believe?"

Adaye murmurs agreement. "Exactly. They draw the lightning, which otherwise would strike in more random locations. What if the Wards are a massive lightning rod for this uncontrolled magic? And worse... what if that was the intention all along?"

[Georg Elsebethson]

Antior is puzzled, though apparently not the least bit threatened, at Georg pulling out his sword. It's an impressive enough sword on its own, but when Georg activates the shadowy outline, Antior nearly jumps to his feet and gasps audibly. "Rulers of sky and earth..." he whispers, eyes wide as he watches the shadows ripple along the surface of the blade. "It's like... a fairy tale come to life." He starts to reach a hand out, then pulls it back as though he's just realized what he's doing and disapproves of the limb acting of its own accord. His eyes reluctantly lift from examining the sword to look at Georg. A slow smile, measured at first but growing more boyish by the moment, creeps over his face. "I hope you will not think less of me if I tell you just how thrilling this is. I grew up not far from the Vaelt in eastern Kasial, where the people were no fan of the Vaeltish ruling class. We cut our teeth on bedtime tales of the uemannala. I am..." He hesitates, then admits guilelessly, "...giddy. I can think of no other word for it."

"Quite the opposite," Georg says. It is strange to see Master Antior smiling at all, much less this strange, wide one that takes years off his face. It's further disorienting to have it turned in his direction. "To be honest, given the circumstances it feels more like I've been voluntold." He frowns. "And the uemerai I bonded with left soon after we dealt with the corrupted one. Not being familiar with the stories, I'm not clear on what all this means, or what is expected of me."

Antior settles in to hear the rest of Georg's tale. At the mention of Ahanei's name, his eyebrows rise. His dedication to rules and order would normally have him far more troubled by the off-handed admission that a Scholar of his College participated in the death of a faculty member, but under the circumstances, this is only about the fourth-most unexpected thing he's heard today. If that.

At the end, Antior pinches the bridge of his nose as he considers what Georg has told him. "I should feel more gratified that my theories are borne out by evidence," he says dryly. "Ahanei has a rather unpleasant reputation, if we are being honest with one another. That he is -- was -- working closely with Iene is no surprise at all. They are both master manipulators. He will not be missed by many, though I must ask whether you are under any suspicion for your part in his death." He sighs, then continues on. "Angousk does not surprise me, as we've discussed. Nor, I suppose, does Firefly though I had not known her to be particularly enamored of Angousk. My recollection from some time ago is that they rarely saw eye-to-eye. The name Chavon means nothing to me, unfortunately. Are you aware of any other members of this so-called conspiracy? Anyone at all?"

"There's one more, but I only know of him as 'the doddering old fool.'" Georg shakes his head. "I have my suspicions that it might be Honored Stollig, but haven't gathered any evidence to confirm." Georg gestures towards the broken memory glass. "The jungle and vines that were on that glass? Based on your description, I'd say they were a variety of the plant that Liquid Jade is produced from, one native to Atokanai." Georg jabs the offending glass with a finger. "And Honored Stollig is an 'expert' on Atokanai, at least in a manner of speaking."

Georg is being careful not to mention anyone else, to speak as though he's done all this legwork and investigating himself, or with the help of Iralis at best, even if the notion strains credulity. But he knows that there is no way in Altam's black hells that Master Antior will buy that he just happens to recognize a rare cultivar from a legendary location based on a verbal description, and the first person who would come to mind that would have potentially told Georg is Sophie, which he cannot have Antior thinking. So he's going to have to give the man a bit more here. "Now stick with me here, because my story gets better," Georg says wryly. "Central to the conspiracy's plot to bring down the Wards is a series of magical devices they call 'power cores.' These cores are, for lack of a better term, 'leaky,' and sometimes those strange vines can be seen growing out of them, so I consulted a Veridian Scholar on the matter." Georg spreads his hands. "What does Atokanai has to do with all this? Damned if I know. But it seems that someone out there also wanted to put you on the scent."

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

There's a brief moment after Iana pushes the button where absolutely nothing happens, before the platform mechanism begins to hum once more and it rises smoothly into the air. Garnyn slumps sort of sideways and down and -- well, the awkward geometry of it all would probably be of interest to the topologists in Opal's mathematics department -- rests against the safety fence surrounding the open platform. "Whee!" he calls out. His voice cracks on the extended vowel sound and he giggles. He slides down to sitting, resting against the fence like a stuffed animal tossed carelessly against a wall. "I think I need a nap. I'm going to... nap here. You..." he trails off, waving a hand vaguely toward Iana. "You go catch the... the... whatever it is."

Iana's expression crinkles into a grimace of renewed concern - but the only thing she can do is try to ease Garnyn's boneless descent to the floor as best she can. "All right. Er - you stay right there," she adds - unnecessarily, of course, because he is not going anywhere. Probably not for quite some time.

And then she turns, drawing herself up to her full height - one of the few physical advantages that she does have - and steps in front of Garnyn's slumped form, readying herself to face the adversary.

The platform rises to the next level and waiting there, of all people, is Katen Tinadra. She's no longer in the official blue robe of the Archivists, dressed instead in her civilian outfit of trousers and a loose white blouse, her dark hair making a mass exodus from the bun she often keeps it in. Her face is flushed and tiny beads of sweat dot her forehead and dampen her temples. "How did I know it was going to be you holding up the lift platform?" she says with a huff. "I had to walk all the way down here by the stairs," she says, waving a hand in front of her to cool her face. She's not a small woman, and Obsidian desk work is not known to be good for one's cardiovascular health, so maybe it's not a surprise she looks like she's recently run somewhere.

Maybe that somewhere is through the aisles of the Seduction Strategies section and up two flights of stairs.

Katen.

Even as Iana tells herself yet again that she cannot let her previous tension with Katen sway her opinion on whether Katen is the culprit, she cannot help but notice that the archivist is breathing far too heavily for having just walked up a single staircase.

"What's wrong with him?" Katen adds, looking at Garnyn half-asleep on the floor.

"Are you sure you don't already know?" Iana fires back. All of the sugared sweetness that she had given to Katen when she entered the library has turned sharp and sour. She fixes her narrowed gaze on Katen's face, searching for signs of guilt: a flicker in the other woman's eyes, a pinch of her lips.

Or, perhaps, a missing earring to match the one that Iana has stowed in her pocket.

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

Finally, she turns to the others. "I know a few things of what it's like outside. Not much, but a little. Magic rages uncontrolled. The Wards are often battered by arcane storms like nothing anyone has ever seen. Are you familiar with lightning rods?"

Risine nods. "Devices to absorb lightning during thunderstorms. Mechanists use them sometimes to power things, I believe?"

Adaye murmurs agreement. "Exactly. They draw the lightning, which otherwise would strike in more random locations. What if the Wards are a massive lightning rod for this uncontrolled magic? And worse... what if that was the intention all along?"

Asra didn't like where this line of thinking was taking them, but her academic mind urged her on in adding to the discourse. "Master Adaye, is it true that Blackstone can only absorb magical energy from a living subject? Or is it able to absorb ambient energy as well?" she asks, her tone grim.

"Is it possible that Rothenend is using these power cores, or intends to use these power cores, as storage for the energy we are being battered with? An attempt to cage some of that untapped, wild magic and use it for his own purposes?"

[AftermathGM]

"Quite the opposite," Georg says. It is strange to see Master Antior smiling at all, much less this strange, wide one that takes years off his face. It's further disorienting to have it turned in his direction. "To be honest, given the circumstances it feels more like I've been voluntold." He frowns. "And the uemerai I bonded with left soon after we dealt with the corrupted one. Not being familiar with the stories, I'm not clear on what all this means, or what is expected of me."

"Probably easier if you read some of the stories yourself," Antior says. "Before you leave, I can give you some titles that might be a good place to start. If I recall correctly, you've continued your studies in Opal beyond what you do here. You may know Honored Inyaio," he says. "They've studied the oral histories of the uemannala, and the dramatic works that survived the post-Advancement purge. They would be a good resource as well, and trustworthy. Meriava born and bred, and no love for the ruling class."

"There's one more, but I only know of him as 'the doddering old fool.'" Georg shakes his head. "I have my suspicions that it might be Honored Stollig, but haven't gathered any evidence to confirm." Georg gestures towards the broken memory glass. "The jungle and vines that were on that glass? Based on your description, I'd say they were a variety of the plant that Liquid Jade is produced from, one native to Atokanai." Georg jabs the offending glass with a finger. "And Honored Stollig is an 'expert' on Atokanai, at least in a manner of speaking."

"Stollig?" Antior takes a moment to consider that, puzzled by the mere idea. "He does fit the 'doddering' description, but the idea that he could focus on anything long enough to be a part of a conspiracy, enough of a part to contribute anything of substance, stretches the imagination." He rubs at his clean-shaven chin. "Do you think it could be the Headmaster? He is certainly not doddering, but depending on where this information came from, I could see someone referring to him as an old fool."

"Now stick with me here, because my story gets better," Georg says wryly. "Central to the conspiracy's plot to bring down the Wards is a series of magical devices they call 'power cores.' These cores are, for lack of a better term, 'leaky,' and sometimes those strange vines can be seen growing out of them, so I consulted a Veridian Scholar on the matter." Georg spreads his hands. "What does Atokanai has to do with all this? Damned if I know. But it seems that someone out there also wanted to put you on the scent."

"Atokanai. More fairy tales," Antior responds dryly, shaking his head. "I know little about Atokanai other than the same stories everyone has heard. How it disappeared soon after the Great Advancement, the Yalai shapeshifters, all of that. Perhaps if it disappeared, then it's also safe from the aftereffects of the War? It could be worth studying, if it could be found or reached somehow." He spreads his hand. "Mere conjecture, however."

[AftermathGM]

Asra didn't like where this line of thinking was taking them, but her academic mind urged her on in adding to the discourse. "Master Adaye, is it true that Blackstone can only absorb magical energy from a living subject? Or is it able to absorb ambient energy as well?" she asks, her tone grim.

"Is it possible that Rothenend is using these power cores, or intends to use these power cores, as storage for the energy we are being battered with? An attempt to cage some of that untapped, wild magic and use it for his own purposes?"

Adaye throws her hands up in the air in frustration. The discourse seems to have brought her back to herself. At the very least, she's comfortable being short-tempered again. "If you'd asked me two days ago? I'd have said no, that blackstone is only sensitive to living subjects, but it's not like I've made a detailed study of the stuff. No one has, or at least no one has ever shared their findings publicly. Whitestone is sensitive to all sorts of magic though, so by extension, it seems at least plausible that blackstone could be as well. Or perhaps the combination with whitestone, like is in these cores, bypasses the restriction or..." She growls and stands up suddenly. She's about to pace when she realizes there's hardly any room to do so. "I need to get OUT of here. I need to study this thing more. I am deeply concerned that Tullen is doing exactly what you suggest, Asra. And if that's indeed the case, we need to know what it is he plans."

She stops, turns toward her visitors and sighs. "And we almost certainly need to stop him."

[Georg Elsebethson]

"Probably easier if you read some of the stories yourself," Antior says. "Before you leave, I can give you some titles that might be a good place to start. If I recall correctly, you've continued your studies in Opal beyond what you do here. You may know Honored Inyaio," he says. "They've studied the oral histories of the uemannala, and the dramatic works that survived the post-Advancement purge. They would be a good resource as well, and trustworthy. Meriava born and bred, and no love for the ruling class."

Georg nods. His continuing studies in Opal have mostly revolved around dance, but that's nothing but a particular way to tell a story, and he has taken a class or two from Honoered Inyaio to better understand the dramatic aspect. "Then that should be my next stop after this. If at some point I need to use a magic box or twinkle my toes in a particular way to keep the city safe, I'd better have some idea of what I'm doing." The idea that he has something magical he can do now is still deeply weird to him, but he's going to have to get over that, and quickly.

"Stollig?" Antior takes a moment to consider that, puzzled by the mere idea. "He does fit the 'doddering' description, but the idea that he could focus on anything long enough to be a part of a conspiracy, enough of a part to contribute anything of substance, stretches the imagination." He rubs at his clean-shaven chin. "Do you think it could be the Headmaster? He is certainly not doddering, but depending on where this information came from, I could see someone referring to him as an old fool."

"I can't rule it out," Georg admits. If Eldarin were here, this would be their cue to come in with their pet theory. With two people, both smarter than Georg by a wide margin, thinking that the Headmaster is involved, it's possible he should rethink his position. "I just can't imagine what his motive would be. Why join up with a conspiracy to bring down the Wards when he's the main thing keeping them up?" He shrugs helplessly. "Mind you, my opinion of the Headmaster has taken quite a dive in the past week, but I'd sooner believe this is Iene getting up to tricks while he's distracted than that he's taking a direct hand. Even if he is involved somehow, why make himself vulnerable by getting involved when he has Iene to act as an intermediary?"

"Atokanai. More fairy tales," Antior responds dryly, shaking his head. "I know little about Atokanai other than the same stories everyone has heard. How it disappeared soon after the Great Advancement, the Yalai shapeshifters, all of that. Perhaps if it disappeared, then it's also safe from the aftereffects of the War? It could be worth studying, if it could be found or reached somehow." He spreads his hand. "Mere conjecture, however."

"If you like that, you're gonna love this last bit," Georg says, taking a deep breath. He doesn't know if Master Antior's credulity will stretch this far, and it means he has to fess up about failing to keep Cayla safe, but it's information the Master needs to have in his brain, even if he doesn't quite believe it, just in case. "You said you found a volume that talked about 'pages in a book' and how they might blend together. I've heard a metaphor like that before, from Cayla Lissimon, the girl who came through the Wards."

Georg looks helplessly at his hands, not knowing where to start. "She claimed that the world we live in is just one page in a book, and that each page is another world like ours, but slightly different. On one page, Cayla and Coyne Lissimon escape the Vaelt together, but Cayla dies in the process, in another, it's the other way around. In another page, my family disowns me to attempt to stop me from studying with Granite, and I end up a rather more, ah, focused student, than here." He looks at Antior "I didn't know what to make of it either, but people have been turning up with memories that don't match reality as we know it. A man was checked into the infirmary a few days ago because he came downstairs and didn't recognize his wife. On his page, he never met her, and he has years of memories of a life where she doesn't factor in. Some of those people may have fallen through to our page by accident, by venturing too close to a power core at the wrong time. Others were pushed through, in order to disorient them and make them some other page's problem."

"Cayla claimed that Rothenend knew of her talent for page jumping and extorted her into using it to gather intelligence for him. He wanted to see what was happening with the Wards on other pages, what those other Meriavas had tried, so that he could use them as crib notes to pass the test himself. It was on one such mission that Cayla was caught up in a magical storm." Georg's voice breaks, and he takes a moment to regain his composure. "We stumbled upon her, body deformed like a clay doll someone had picked up and twisted by the middle. She did not survive that injury, and much of what I know was learned from her as she was dying."

[AftermathGM]

"Are you sure you don't already know?" Iana fires back. All of the sugared sweetness that she had given to Katen when she entered the library has turned sharp and sour. She fixes her narrowed gaze on Katen's face, searching for signs of guilt: a flicker in the other woman's eyes, a pinch of her lips.

Or, perhaps, a missing earring to match the one that Iana has stowed in her pocket.

Katen stares back at Iana as though she's grown a third eye. "Are you sure you..." she starts, in a mincing, nasally mimic of Iana's voice. "No, I don't know. And you know how you can tell?" she answers brightly, then leans in to sneer. "Because I just asked you. You're not simple, Iana. Don't act like you are."

The exchange puts an even more sour look on Katen's face. Somewhere deep in the recesses of her brain, she berates herself for once again managing to utterly foul every interaction she has with Iana. She tries not to, she truly does, but every time Katen opens her mouth around her, acid spews out.

"Look, I saw Sayesti come down here and I know you've worked with her. I hadn't seen you or M. Snoozy over there come out while I was on duty..." she begins, the sour look remaining on her face but her tone growing more measured. "I thought maybe you'd figured out something about the missing books."

She can't quite meet Iana's eyes, looking just past her right ear to a point in the middle distance. "I know I'm not particularly popular among the Scholars," she mutters. "I thought maybe if I... helped solve a mystery." And then she really does look away, mouth twisted in sour defeat. "It's stupid. Go on, you were obviously on your way somewhere more important. Don't let me stop you."

Her eyes fall onto Garnyn once again. "Though this one's not exactly up for an adventure, is he?"