Chapter 6 (Continued)

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

"Mm. Master Adaye," Rothenend muses. "We'll get back to her in a moment. The rest of this group. Lavian Andoris, I believe, and a halfling Obsidian Scholar? Merielle, I think was the name? How many others know of this device, or even worse have been near it?"

He sits up straighter in his chair and rests his hands, laced together, atop the table. He looks seriously -- though not sternly -- across at Asra. "It's important that I know, you see. This device is extremely dangerous, especially in the hands of someone who might use it for nefarious purposes. Blackstone is not at all something to be messed with, certainly not by anyone not taking the proper safety precautions. You see, I'm afraid Master Adaye may have betrayed your confidences, Scholar Beauchaud. I discovered her attempting to use the device and had to call on significant resources to prevent her from whatever sinister deed she meant to accomplish. She spoke of removing memories when I confronted her. Are you aware of any memory issues you've experienced lately? If she's been doing such things, who knows what plots and schemes she's hidden. I had to confine her to a cell in Whitestone while we investigated the situation."

This feels dangerous. Chills run down Asra's spine as she feels the immense gravity of what is being asked of her. The news of Adaye's incarceration hits like a ton of bricks, and she can feel the weight of those same bricks hanging over her, threatening to drop if she doesn't play this smart...

Looking down at her lap, she doesn't hide the fact that she's thinking, but for all the world, she'd likely look like a woman whose world was crashing around her from news that her trusted mentor had betrayed her. But in fact, she doesn't trust Rothenend. The ring he wears flashes in her mind, a memory locked deep away that she feels would unlock the motives behind everything if she could just remember...

But she can't. Too much is in flux, and the only thing she can trust right now are her friends, and the mission for which they have worked so hard to accomplish. She wouldn't betray that, even if it meant she would end up in even more dangerous circumstances. Nodding resolutely, she looks back to the Headmaster.

"That saddens me," she admits. "I put a lot of faith in Master Adaye... but you did what you had to do..." She sniffs, clearing the emotions from her throat as she continues her report. "Mabel, I think her name was... not Merielle... Intensely friendly, but I wasn't particularly focused on her while we were locating the device. Remembering her name seemed... trivial in the face of everything."

Quickly switching around, she holds up a hand to waylay a perceived concern. "Not that I think the lapse in memory was from the device, I just... well, not to sound callous, but I didn't believe she was all that important, and so I didn't pay her much attention. As for others, Adaye had me work with a few groups, but I was always meant to keep my purpose as hidden as possible. In hindsight, the stress she put on secrecy was odd, but I had no reason to distrust the master of my college, sir."

She bows her head. "I'm sorry I was not more diligent, but I'm unsure of how much help I am in this matter," she apologizes, attempting to deflect.

[78rpmlife]

She lets out a long slow sigh. "All right. There seems to be a convergence on Kasial in these missing documents: the Kasiali genealogies, the halfling from Kasial who was actually named Macie, and those merchant records that cite the Kasiali genealogies.

"So there are a few ways that we can get around it, I think." As before, Iana ticks off the possibilities on elegant outstretched fingers, careful and methodical. "First, let's look at some more general history and folklore of southern Kasial, to see if there are any more patterns in the documents that are missing: specific time periods, perhaps, or other families besides the Chavons.

"Then we might try to get at some of that information from other angles: literature instead of folklore, perhaps, to find some other adaptations of those missing folktales to see what their content is.

Garnyn nods solemnly as Iana presents her plan. "I think that makes sense. Hopefully those aren't the only items that have what we're looking for. Either way, hopefully we at least encounter some good stories to read?" he ventures wryly.

And we could ask Ishan, too," she agrees. "Although…"

Her mouth presses tight and her eyes pinch with unhappiness as a reluctant thought begins to come to her. She hates to think it. She hates to say it even more. But she has just spent the last few hours grappling with the reality that her _best friend's mother_ is involved in this conspiracy, and every bit of her Obsidian training is shouting at her to consider all possibilities…

So Iana leans in towards Garnyn and says, very very quietly, "Ishan would be in the perfect position to conceal the documents. I hope that he is not the one doing it, of course! But he could be. In which case…asking him a few strategic questions might get him to tip his hand," she realizes with a sigh.

At this point, Garnyn straightens up in surprise. "You don't really think..." he starts, but trails off as he studies Iana's expression. "You do think he could've been the one," he murmurs. He thinks about the big jovial fellow he'd swapped bits of the Esayo tongue with just a few minutes ago, trying to see him as a document thief and a member of the conspiracy. It's just not happening. "I mean, it's possible. All kinds of things are possible of course, but... O's and A, it must be hard to be an Obsidian. It's hard enough to trust people in my line of study, but for you..." He blows out his breath in a low whistle. After a pause, he shakes his head and lightly claps his hands together. "Okay. Let's get to work then," he says with good cheer that only sounds a little bit forced. Another example of 'knows what he should say, hasn't yet figured out how to say it with full sincerity'. But he's trying.

It takes a little while, this deeper dive into literature and history, as all good deep dives do. Occasionally, Garnyn brings up something to cross-reference or an interesting point to discuss for a moment, things such as that. It's at least an hour, maybe longer, when Garnyn says suddenly, "He's not a noble. Or at least, Chavon isn't who he says he is. He's an impostor."

Garnyn turns around the book he's reading. "Does this man look like a weasel to you?" he asks. There's a detailed drawing in the book, written only a few years ago, of a small gathering of men and women signing a document. Looks like a treaty signing or trade deal; the text would have more information. But it's the caption on the sketch that's of most interest. If it's to be believed, 'Chavon Occapinda' is the round, jolly-faced man behind the table. "I ask simply because Finch insists we refer to Chavon as Weasel Boy. Because... he looks... like a weasel." He hesitates, realizing how ridiculous it must sound. But then again, it's Finch. She says 17 ridiculous things before lunch. "But if this is the real Chavon Occapinda, then who is our Chavon? If he's not a noble, and he hasn't been with the Ferrymen long enough to build up his own war chest for funding his operations, then someone else has to be funding him. Someone that wants him to challenge the Pilot, maybe. But why?"

He sighs. "I know it's not a clue to Macie's identity or who might be using the name, but... well, hopefully it's of some use to the others. We'd suspected, of course, but this is the first proof we've had."

It's not long after that when Iana hits possible gold. She'd remembered a couple of the references in Dara's report and looked into those. One is a series of payroll records from a company registered only as Nsuya Tiya Enterprises with headquarters in a town she's never heard of: Mutra. It sounds a little like something from northern Rhamia, perhaps, which borders Kasial to the south...

In any case, there are several entries for payment to a Macia Occapinda. A connection to Chavon, it seems, but what of the company?

[78rpmlife]

It is, granted, a valid point. Risine could well be grasping at straws here. But it isn't as though they're spoiled for choice when it comes to advocates, and Georg has an uneasy feeling about the conspiracy Risine is outlining. There are a few too many parallels to the conspiracy he and Elda are chasing for comfort. Fireflies, Angousks, and a highly placed figure in the College. Where have we heard that before? He's been thinking of the conspiracy to bring down the Wards as something as recent as the Wards themselves. A reaction born out of dissatisfaction with Meriava's isolation. What would it mean if it predated the Wards? A cozy network of underhanded business dealings forced to shift focus because of the Wards, or something more than that? His gut twists at the thought that his family may have helped plant the seeds of whatever strange growth they're dealing with.

It certainly does seem to be coming back around to Charei Firefly and the Angousk family again and again. The highly placed figure in the School has to be the Headmaster. What he did to Cayla, what he's done to Adaye... all this evidence that Risine has. She's convinced it's him. We need to stop him, Georg.

Though their telepathic connection does not transmit emotion, the strength of Elda's sending and the quickening of her breath say all that Georg needs to know. These are high emotions, strong emotions. Never mind that just a moment before, Elda was questioning Risine's sanity. As she builds up steam, Elda seems all too willing to accept Risine's word if it fits with her own preconceived ideas.

Then suddenly, Elda's facial markings go nearly as pale as her skin with only a hint of pink. Wait though... Master Antior. He thinks it's Master Iene of Jade. Or thinks he's definitely part of something to do with all this. And what we found out from Ahanei would implicate Iene too... oh moon and stars, Georg. My head hurts.

"Alright," Georg says, "I believe I understand what you're looking for, now. I'll see what I can find, as much for my own peace of mind as your investigation, and share it with you."

Risine comes around to the front of her desk, again taken aback for a moment at just how big Georg is, even though he's been occupying much of her limited space all this time. She spits in her palm and extends her hand to him. "And I'll do everything in my power to free Master Adaye. I think we can all three help each other here."

That's... disgusting.

Elda's lip curls faintly in distaste, but it's a common enough way to seal a deal in many parts of the world.

[Georg Elsebethson]

It certainly does seem to be coming back around to Charei Firefly and the Angousk family again and again. The highly placed figure in the School has to be the Headmaster. What he did to Cayla, what he's done to Adaye... all this evidence that Risine has. She's convinced it's him. We need to stop him, Georg.

Though their telepathic connection does not transmit emotion, the strength of Elda's sending and the quickening of her breath say all that Georg needs to know. These are high emotions, strong emotions. Never mind that just a moment before, Elda was questioning Risine's sanity. As she builds up steam, Elda seems all too willing to accept Risine's word if it fits with her own preconceived ideas.

Then suddenly, Elda's facial markings go nearly as pale as her skin with only a hint of pink. Wait though... Master Antior. He thinks it's Master Iene of Jade. Or thinks he's definitely part of something to do with all this. And what we found out from Ahanei would implicate Iene too... oh moon and stars, Georg. My head hurts.

You and me both, Georg sends back. My dream also points to Iene, for what that's worth. We're back to wondering if there are two different conspiracies going on side by side or if they're somehow connected. Given what Cayla'd said about Rothenend getting reports from multiple pages, I doubt he's ignorant of the conspiracy. Georg stops himself from going too much further down that line of thinking. If he starts imaging Rothenend as being omniscient, they're already screwed. All the little differences between pages have to introduce some confusion. Too much Intel can be a problem of its own, especially when equally credible reports disagree. And regardless of what pies Rothenend has his fingers in, there has to be something he's worried about to risk the kind of fracas Risine is hoping to start by arresting Adaye.

Risine comes around to the front of her desk, again taken aback for a moment at just how big Georg is, even though he's been occupying much of her limited space all this time. She spits in her palm and extends her hand to him. "And I'll do everything in my power to free Master Adaye. I think we can all three help each other here."

That's... disgusting.

Elda's lip curls faintly in distaste, but it's a common enough way to seal a deal in many parts of the world.

We make do. Georg spits in his own palm and takes Risine's hand, offering an apologetic smile at the difference in size and the difference it makes in the proportion of bodily fluids they both have to deal with. "Agreed. Is there anything you need from us to get things rolling or should I get to snooping?"

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

Garnyn nods solemnly as Iana presents her plan. "I think that makes sense. Hopefully those aren't the only items that have what we're looking for. Either way, hopefully we at least encounter some good stories to read?" he ventures wryly.

"We can only hope," she replies, with an equally wry smile in return.

At this point, Garnyn straightens up in surprise. "You don't really think..." he starts, but trails off as he studies Iana's expression. "You do think he could've been the one," he murmurs. He thinks about the big jovial fellow he'd swapped bits of the Esayo tongue with just a few minutes ago, trying to see him as a document thief and a member of the conspiracy. It's just not happening. "I mean, it's possible. All kinds of things are possible of course, but... O's and A, it must be hard to be an Obsidian. It's hard enough to trust people in my line of study, but for you..."

"I don't want him to be," Iana says quietly. "Truly, I don't. But I can't let go of the possibility that he _might_ be." She shakes her head, offering another rueful smile, but this one doesn't quite reach her eyes. "This is why I'm an analyst. Usually we only need to worry about being betrayed by falsified accounting records."

It takes a little while, this deeper dive into literature and history, as all good deep dives do. Occasionally, Garnyn brings up something to cross-reference or an interesting point to discuss for a moment, things such as that. It's at least an hour, maybe longer, when Garnyn says suddenly, "He's not a noble. Or at least, Chavon isn't who he says he is. He's an impostor."

As soon as she hears the tone of Garnyn's voice, Iana can tell that he's got something important. She looks swiftly up, and turns to look at where he is pointing, brushing a few strands of fallen hair back behind one pointed ear as she bends her head over the book.

Garnyn turns around the book he's reading. "Does this man look like a weasel to you?" he asks. There's a detailed drawing in the book, written only a few years ago, of a small gathering of men and women signing a document. Looks like a treaty signing or trade deal; the text would have more information. But it's the caption on the sketch that's of most interest. If it's to be believed, 'Chavon Occapinda' is the round, jolly-faced man behind the table. "I ask simply because Finch insists we refer to Chavon as Weasel Boy. Because... he looks... like a weasel." He hesitates, realizing how ridiculous it must sound. But then again, it's Finch. She says 17 ridiculous things before lunch. "But if this is the real Chavon Occapinda, then who is our Chavon? If he's not a noble, and he hasn't been with the Ferrymen long enough to build up his own war chest for funding his operations, then someone else has to be funding him. Someone that wants him to challenge the Pilot, maybe. But why?"

Iana can't help the little giggle that escapes her at the name 'Weasel Boy.' Sobriety quickly returns, though, as she listens to the rest of Garnyn's assessment, and nods. "This is proof," she agrees. "And now we know how we might go about finding more information. See if the real Chavon's business interests cross over with our conspiracy in any way?" she suggests. "There might be a reason why - " She can't say 'Weasel Boy' again, because then she will giggle again. "Why our Chavon," she says instead, "found this particular person's name especially useful to take."

Then she turns back to her own work - and, it is not much longer before she has a sudden realization of her own to match Garnyn's. "Oh!" she gasps softly, then leans over to speak softly to Garnyn again: "We wondered where the money was coming from? I think I may have an answer for part of that." She shifts around the large heavy book, pointing with one long finger at the name on the payroll: "Here is a company whose records we were trying to find in our earlier research, and, look, here is Macia Occapinda on the payroll." Not 'Macie', but close enough. "Why this family, I wonder…"

She flips back a few pages, leaving her finger between the leaves to mark the place where Macia Occapinda's name was, and shows Garnyn the cover sheet. "Here - have you ever heard of this town?" She points with her free hand to the word 'Mutra' - refraining from saying it out loud, just in case the attention of the person trying to obstruct them might be drawn by the sound of those words that that opponent is clearly trying to suppress. "It sounds Rhamian..." Which is where the Fireflies are from, too. Which is a connection that Iana likes less and less every time she thinks of it. "Or, have you heard of this company?" Iana continues, her finger tracing a few lines down to land on Nsuya Tiya Enterprises.

[78rpmlife]

"That saddens me," she admits. "I put a lot of faith in Master Adaye... but you did what you had to do..." She sniffs, clearing the emotions from her throat as she continues her report. "Mabel, I think her name was... not Merielle... Intensely friendly, but I wasn't particularly focused on her while we were locating the device. Remembering her name seemed... trivial in the face of everything."

Quickly switching around, she holds up a hand to waylay a perceived concern. "Not that I think the lapse in memory was from the device, I just... well, not to sound callous, but I didn't believe she was all that important, and so I didn't pay her much attention. As for others, Adaye had me work with a few groups, but I was always meant to keep my purpose as hidden as possible. In hindsight, the stress she put on secrecy was odd, but I had no reason to distrust the master of my college, sir."

She bows her head. "I'm sorry I was not more diligent, but I'm unsure of how much help I am in this matter," she apologizes, attempting to deflect.

Rothenend presses his lips together and sighs a breath out through his nose. The tilt of his head, the faint frown, the direct look he gives back with one eyebrow just slightly raised, it all speaks of deep disappointment.

"Lying is not your forte, my dear," he says, shaking his head wearily. "I know Meribel Longstrider quite well. I sometimes wonder if everyone does. And before you protest that you weren't lying, you simply didn't remember, I also know your records quite well and know that you are not that ignorant or stupid."

He falls silent, steepling his fingers underneath his chin as he considers the wayward Scholar in front of him. "You've done rather well at the task I set you earlier. Despite your most recent ethical lapse," he says, giving another one of those disapproving father looks, "I think you might be well placed to perform another. I am in possession of the... item Master Adaye was studying. I would like to give you another chance to take a closer look at it and see what you can discover about it. Obviously you have worked with Master Adaye before, so she might well be persuaded to share her findings with you. You are no Mechanist, of course, but with Adaye out of the picture, we lack another trained Mechanist to take over the job. If you agree to take on this task, then I will allow you access to speak with her. What say you?"

[78rpmlife]

We make do. Georg spits in his own palm and takes Risine's hand, offering an apologetic smile at the difference in size and the difference it makes in the proportion of bodily fluids they both have to deal with. "Agreed. Is there anything you need from us to get things rolling or should I get to snooping?"

Risine's eyes twitch toward the shelves of physical documents that line her walls as though she's itching to dig into them.

"I will need a way to get in touch with you. I used to have a communication device somewhere around here," she says, twisting this way and that to look about her office before she shakes her head. "Even if I could find it, I doubt it's functional any more. Another reason to get Adaye freed. She could probably fix it," she says dryly. "So... when you have something to report, come find me again. If I'm not here, talk to Deva Chandon, my partner, in the Veridium offices in the Greenhouse. They'll certainly know where I'm likely to be."

Businesslike, she looks from Georg to Elda. "And the two of you? If there is something to report? Where shall I contact you? The kinship, perhaps?"

Elda nods. "That would likely be fine. Jaipha or Mindaris, either one. They would be able to contact me. Unless Georg has a better idea?" She turns to look up at him.

"Either way, I don't need anything further. Into the breach, comrades!" says Risine, lifting a fist in the air in a half-hearted salute.

[78rpmlife]

Iana can't help the little giggle that escapes her at the name 'Weasel Boy.' Sobriety quickly returns, though, as she listens to the rest of Garnyn's assessment, and nods. "This is proof," she agrees. "And now we know how we might go about finding more information. See if the real Chavon's business interests cross over with our conspiracy in any way?" she suggests. "There might be a reason why - " She can't say 'Weasel Boy' again, because then she will giggle again. "Why our Chavon," she says instead, "found this particular person's name especially useful to take."

"Oh! Oh, that's a great idea," Garnyn says, blinking in surprise. "See, this is why you're the analyst." He scribbles a few notes down.

Then she turns back to her own work - and, it is not much longer before she has a sudden realization of her own to match Garnyn's. "Oh!" she gasps softly, then leans over to speak softly to Garnyn again: "We wondered where the money was coming from? I think I may have an answer for part of that." She shifts around the large heavy book, pointing with one long finger at the name on the payroll: "Here is a company whose records we were trying to find in our earlier research, and, look, here is Macia Occapinda on the payroll." Not 'Macie', but close enough. "Why this family, I wonder…"

"Occapinda... Occapinda..." Garnyn muses, rubbing absently at his clean-shaven chin with the back of one finger. "I can't say the family name rings a bell, but... oh! Asra!" he says. "Asra comes from a noble family in Kasial. She might be familiar with the name. But if nothing else, it gives us even more reason to look up the real Chavon's business."

She flips back a few pages, leaving her finger between the leaves to mark the place where Macia Occapinda's name was, and shows Garnyn the cover sheet. "Here - have you ever heard of this town?" She points with her free hand to the word 'Mutra' - refraining from saying it out loud, just in case the attention of the person trying to obstruct them might be drawn by the sound of those words that that opponent is clearly trying to suppress. "It sounds Rhamian..." Which is where the Fireflies are from, too. Which is a connection that Iana likes less and less every time she thinks of it. "Or, have you heard of this company?" Iana continues, her finger tracing a few lines down to land on Nsuya Tiya Enterprises.

Garnyn scoots over a little bit to look more closely at the names. "I've never heard of the town or the company, but they do sound Rhamian. In the sense that the nation of Rhamia has as many languages as it has unhappy political and ethnic groups under its umbrella. Don't tell Finch I said that, though."

The nation known as Rhamia is comprised of several former independent nations, each of whom once warred with one another over the slightest of insults, conquered and 'unified' under the Rhamian flag.

"The town sounds more like an Esayo word, honestly. But 'tiya' is definitely Rhamian. Glow, maybe? Or warmth? I can't remember exactly. But I think 'nsuya' translates as 'chicken'. I mean... hot chicken, or glowing chicken I suppose, seems like an odd name for a company, but it could be a local slang term that doesn't translate directly. Happens a lot. We might ask Finch about that. But your big friend might know about the town?"

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

"Oh! Oh, that's a great idea," Garnyn says, blinking in surprise. "See, this is why you're the analyst." He scribbles a few notes down.

"Thank you," Iana replies, her giggle turning to a genuine smile.

Garnyn scoots over a little bit to look more closely at the names. "I've never heard of the town or the company, but they do sound Rhamian. In the sense that the nation of Rhamia has as many languages as it has unhappy political and ethnic groups under its umbrella. Don't tell Finch I said that, though."

The nation known as Rhamia is comprised of several former independent nations, each of whom once warred with one another over the slightest of insults, conquered and 'unified' under the Rhamian flag.

"The town sounds more like an Esayo word, honestly. But 'tiya' is definitely Rhamian. Glow, maybe? Or warmth? I can't remember exactly. But I think 'nsuya' translates as 'chicken'. I mean... hot chicken, or glowing chicken I suppose, seems like an odd name for a company, but it could be a local slang term that doesn't translate directly. Happens a lot. We might ask Finch about that. But your big friend might know about the town?"

"…Glowing chicken?" Iana echoes dubiously. Another giggle threatens to bubble up within her, and she makes herself swallow it back, turning it into a tiny cough instead. "Ahem. Right. Yes, that must be some sort of local reference. Or maybe they got their start selling very spicy food, and then branched out into other things?" She shakes her head - no time to go down that particular rabbit hole of speculation. "We can ask Finch. And, yes, Asra would likely know about the Occapindas. And that's why you're good at what you do," she offers, returning the compliment that Garnyn had given her, along with a smile. "Making all of those connections."

But there is that other connection that Iana has been avoiding…and can't avoid any longer. "All right," she sighs. "Let's go ask Ishan if he's ever heard of Mutra. If he isn't involved, he can just tell us what he knows. And if he is - " Her mouth tightens briefly: she still hates having to say it, but still has to acknowledge the possibility. "If he is, then…mentioning that town might make him tip his hand, knowing that we've discovered something even though he was trying to hide it."

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

Rothenend presses his lips together and sighs a breath out through his nose. The tilt of his head, the faint frown, the direct look he gives back with one eyebrow just slightly raised, it all speaks of deep disappointment.

"Lying is not your forte, my dear," he says, shaking his head wearily. "I know Meribel Longstrider quite well. I sometimes wonder if everyone does. And before you protest that you weren't lying, you simply didn't remember, I also know your records quite well and know that you are not that ignorant or stupid."

Asra's shoulders slump subconsciously, the weight of this man's authority and grandfatherly disapproval weighing on her. She presses her lips together, settling into a more relaxed posture in her chair. She wanted to try to tip the scales a bit, though she was hard pressed to find a way that would be sure to work. At present, her idea was this: To leverage her position as a foreign royal.

"You can't fault me for trying," she claims semi-casually, her voice still a bit shaky. "If you know my records as well as you say, then you know I'm loyal to a fault, though that presently extends only to my people." She dares not expound on who that includes, and hopes he will assume she means her kin in Hara.

"She is intensely friendly, its no wonder everyone seems to know her, and maybe because of that, I wanted to spare her getting dragged into any of this." Its a logical, if not emotionally-backed, explanation.

He falls silent, steepling his fingers underneath his chin as he considers the wayward Scholar in front of him. "You've done rather well at the task I set you earlier. Despite your most recent ethical lapse," he says, giving another one of those disapproving father looks, "I think you might be well placed to perform another. I am in possession of the... item Master Adaye was studying. I would like to give you another chance to take a closer look at it and see what you can discover about it. Obviously you have worked with Master Adaye before, so she might well be persuaded to share her findings with you. You are no Mechanist, of course, but with Adaye out of the picture, we lack another trained Mechanist to take over the job. If you agree to take on this task, then I will allow you access to speak with her. What say you?"

She takes a moment to ponder the offer. "I'd like to ask for another concession, if I might be so bold," she adds. "I will agree to research the device and attempt to unlock its secrets, hopefully with help from Adaye or from any notes she may have left behind, so long as I can speak with her, and ask you about something I saw in the divinations I glimpsed when I entered."