Chapter 6 (Continued)

[Georg Elsebethson]

He begins pacing slowly back and forth, exactly five strides one way, five the other. "I am finding my own observations to be... more questionable than I would prefer them to be," he says. This is quite an admission: Antior is well-known for being a clear and focused thinker. He's not a big man, not particularly physically gifted, but somehow he rose to the office of Master of Granite. He turns to look at Georg, but doesn't pause his pacing. "The Swordmaster suggested that you have some experience with questionable observations. I need someone impartial to verify my suspicions. I have asked the Swordmaster, but she declined and offered your name in response. Are you the person I am looking for?"

Georg holds his expression impassively, despite his inward relief that his "plain speaking" was taken well. He suspects he has an idea of what Master Antior might be talking about, but if he betrays too much knowledge, this could become a very different interview very quickly. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean by 'questionable,' Master Antior," Georg ventures. "But with everything that's been happening, I'm not going to dismiss an idea out of hand simply because it's 'questionable,' 'improbable,' or even 'impossible.'"

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

Asra cuts off her arcane exploration just in time as the Headmaster comes back into the room. He bears a letter sealed with the symbol of the Headmaster's Office which he hands over to Asra. "Give this to the guard on duty at Adaye's rooms. He'll see that you're given proper access to speak with her," he says.

"Do you have any further questions for me? If not, you should be on your way. You've a great deal to accomplish, Scholar Beauchaud. I look forward to hearing of your progress."

Asra looks down at the note now in her hands, trying her best to keep her hands from trembling. She didn't want to appear shaken before this man who wanted nothing more than to tear her down until she was completely obedient. Bowing to the Headmaster, she thanks him.

"Thank you, Headmaster. I will do my best with the opportunity you have granted me," she told him, placidly. "And I have no further questions. Please call upon me if I can be of some use."

She wastes no time in departing the office, and in leaving the building altogether. She needed air, first and foremost. She needed to be free of the suffocating weight of the Headmaster and his machinations.

Not for the first time, she felt the weight of everything they had been doing lately. All of the secrets uncovered. The dangers they'd braved. The lives they both saved and endangered just by meddling.

She kept walking, passing through the college's courtyard and walking without apparent purpose, just trying to clear her head. But as she walked, her mind worked, and even without her needing to make it so, she found herself on the path towards where Adaye was being kept.

[78rpmlife]

"Actually," Iana replies, meeting Sayesti's eyes directly, "I have been trying to find those 'rerouting slips' myself." She can't help the twitch of her mouth at the precision of Sayesti's imitation, but seriousness returns almost at once as she continues, "I haven't found any yet, but I have been looking for some time."

"Mmm," Sayesti murmurs. She nods slowly, though her eyes never leave Iana's face. "Well, there are many places to look these days, it seems. Though I am not sure there has ever been a time when routing has ever been standardized in a clear, easy to follow fashion."

Tilting her head, she asks, gaze sharpening. "Have you tried asking the Archivists? You have an acquaintance among their ranks, yes? The mildly officious young woman ostensibly on duty came complaining to Dara about you a short time ago, actually. Implying that you might be at fault for this whole..." She gestures vaguely with one elegant hand. "...routing business."

She raises one sculpted eyebro, effectively implying the question: Are you at fault?

[78rpmlife]

Georg holds his expression impassively, despite his inward relief that his "plain speaking" was taken well. He suspects he has an idea of what Master Antior might be talking about, but if he betrays too much knowledge, this could become a very different interview very quickly. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean by 'questionable,' Master Antior," Georg ventures. "But with everything that's been happening, I'm not going to dismiss an idea out of hand simply because it's 'questionable,' 'improbable,' or even 'impossible.'"

Antior's lips press together. It's hard to tell exactly whether it's a smile or a frown. Expressions seem to die half-formed on Antior's face on a regular basis.

"Good," he says after a moment. "That is what I would like to hear. Before I say anything further, I am going to need you to swear to secrecy. What am I about to tell you is potentially very dangerous for you, for the School and for the city as a whole. There are things I have seen and uncovered that, under normal circumstances, would demand serious inquiry. However, recent experiences have caused me to doubt my own observations. I am no longer as impartial as I would prefer to be, and I need independent corroboration. Independent, do you understand? You will tell me if you uncover evidence that I am wrong. You will be honest with me."

He breathes in, exhaling audibly through his nose.

"I understand our power difference, Scholar. I am the Master of your College and the ultimate arbiter of your Scholarly work. If this is not something you are comfortable undertaking, then you may leave now and we will speak no more of it. However, I will give you every assurance I judge your efforts entirely on your dedication to the task and your honesty, not whether or not you say 'the right thing' to me."

There's the very faintest whiff of pleading in his voice as he finishes. "What say you? Will you perform this task for me?"

[Georg Elsebethson]

Antior's lips press together. It's hard to tell exactly whether it's a smile or a frown. Expressions seem to die half-formed on Antior's face on a regular basis.

"Good," he says after a moment. "That is what I would like to hear. Before I say anything further, I am going to need you to swear to secrecy. What am I about to tell you is potentially very dangerous for you, for the School and for the city as a whole. There are things I have seen and uncovered that, under normal circumstances, would demand serious inquiry. However, recent experiences have caused me to doubt my own observations. I am no longer as impartial as I would prefer to be, and I need independent corroboration. Independent, do you understand? You will tell me if you uncover evidence that I am wrong. You will be honest with me."

He breathes in, exhaling audibly through his nose.

"I understand our power difference, Scholar. I am the Master of your College and the ultimate arbiter of your Scholarly work. If this is not something you are comfortable undertaking, then you may leave now and we will speak no more of it. However, I will give you every assurance I judge your efforts entirely on your dedication to the task and your honesty, not whether or not you say 'the right thing' to me."

There's the very faintest whiff of pleading in his voice as he finishes. "What say you? Will you perform this task for me?"

Georg takes a deep breath. This is a killing field full of pit traps. The objective on the other side is of huge importance and likely worth the risk, but he has to place his feet carefully if he's going to make it there intact. "I hear what you are asking. If I believe your observations are without basis, I am willing to tell you so and to gather independent evidence to prove or disprove them."

Georg holds up his hand. "I cannot unconditionally swear secrecy. For the duration of my investigation, I can keep this secret—so long as I don't uncover a threat to the city that requires immediate action. But once I have made my report? If there is a danger and you do not act, then I will have to take independent action, even if it means implicating you." He lowers his hand and looks Antior in the eyes. "I'm not saying I don't trust you to do the right thing, but I want to be crystal clear that I will put my loyalty to the city—to the people of Meriava—ahead of my loyalty to you. If that is not acceptable to you, then we should call this off now."

If Antior is the man Georg wants him to be, then these are exactly the terms he would expect. If Antior is the man Georg fears he might be, this could get ugly, and Georg has no faith that the matter will truly be considered closed if he leaves now. Don't let me down now, Georg silently pleads.

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

"Mmm," Sayesti murmurs. She nods slowly, though her eyes never leave Iana's face. "Well, there are many places to look these days, it seems. Though I am not sure there has ever been a time when routing has ever been standardized in a clear, easy to follow fashion."

Tilting her head, she asks, gaze sharpening. "Have you tried asking the Archivists? You have an acquaintance among their ranks, yes? The mildly officious young woman ostensibly on duty came complaining to Dara about you a short time ago, actually. Implying that you might be at fault for this whole..." She gestures vaguely with one elegant hand. "...routing business."

She raises one sculpted eyebro, effectively implying the question: Are you at fault?

As unpleasant as it is to find herself on the receiving end of that kind of scrutiny, Iana can't help but respect that Sayesti is giving it to her. She would expect nothing less of a responsible Obsidian in her position.

Her calm curiosity breaks at the mention of the 'mildly officious young woman' - a sharp indignant sniff escapes her. "Oh, I'm sure she did," she mutters. "Even though I swore to her not more than an hour ago that I knew nothing about it." Her lips purse into a disdainful grimace, and her eyes roll briefly heavenward. "Katen would like to blame me for everything that goes wrong in the world, and has done so ever since we were in our very first seminar together."

Most likely, Katen is only too happy to have someone she dislikes conveniently appear to have suspicions pinned upon her, whether just or unjust.

Iana takes a breath, and reminds herself yet again to take care that she does not take advantage of the same convenience. As much as she secretly wished that Katen was the villain that they sought…

"Truly, Sayesti," Iana continues, her voice returning to smooth genuine sincerity. "It was only recently that I noticed that not all of the… rerouting slips were where they should be. And," she adds, her eyes returning to meet the other woman's straight on, "I have been trying to set things right."

[78rpmlife]

She wastes no time in departing the office, and in leaving the building altogether. She needed air, first and foremost. She needed to be free of the suffocating weight of the Headmaster and his machinations.

Not for the first time, she felt the weight of everything they had been doing lately. All of the secrets uncovered. The dangers they'd braved. The lives they both saved and endangered just by meddling.

She kept walking, passing through the college's courtyard and walking without apparent purpose, just trying to clear her head. But as she walked, her mind worked, and even without her needing to make it so, she found herself on the path towards where Adaye was being kept.

As Asra departs the Headmaster's office, Rothenend's secretary -- who never did provide a name, Asra realizes with passing curiosity -- stands and opens the outer door for her. As she passes, he surreptitiously offers her a folded sheet of paper. He says nothing to her, and watches her carefully as she departs down the hall. There's a moment where Asra wonders if he somehow knows that she snooped around Rothenend's far-seeing devices, but surely there's no possible way he could have? He wasn't there...

Once she's gone back down to the main floor and is departing the building, she opens the note. There are only a few words scrawled on it in a spidery hand.

Look for this symbol. Don't trust it.

Below those words a symbol is drawn.

(Rothenend) wears a heavy ring, a tarnished gold band with a faceted piece of whitestone set in it, sigils etched into the metal. One of them tickles at Asra's memory. Though she was never directly involved with the university at Hara, she knew a number of people who were. She realizes then that the symbol she recognizes is associated with one of the academic societies there, a very exclusive society if she remembers right, though what exactly it was organized around she can't recall. It shouldn't be hard to look up later, though.

It's the same symbol that was on Rothenend's ring. The symbol of one of the academic societies at the University at Hara. She's going to need to look that up at some point, but it can wait for now. The fact that it's Rothenend's secretary passing this sort of information is... disturbing? Possibly useful? Whatever it is, it's definitely typical of what her life has become over the last several days: everyone working on their own agenda and alliances are uncertain at best.

Adaye is being held in a building colloquially known around campus as the Cooler. Individuals who "need some time away" from campus society are kept there. Most people know it as a place drunk and disorderly students are held until they cool off. There have always been rumors that it has even more secure and serious facilities, though there's always been a sense that there couldn't possibly be a need for such things. Apparently that sense was quite wrong.

Asra climbs the stairs to the third floor, having to show the pass Rothenend gave her to even get beyond the first floor. As she's coming up the final flight of stairs, she can overhear a heated conversation.

"I am Risine Baramond, Master Adaye's Advocate, duly hired, and I demand that her rights to Advocacy be granted!"

"You have not been granted admission rights by the Headmaster. I suggest you speak to him first."

"The Headmaster is not above the law of this institution. I have shown you the proper paperwork as her Advocate. Get the fuck out of my way," the first speaker says in a tone Asra recognizes. She vividly recalls her mother -- who rarely, if ever, possessed more than one or two fucks to give -- using exactly that tone of voice. Vividly enough to give her pause, until she remembers that her mother is at least hundreds of miles away and on the other side of the Wards.

Asra arrives on the third floor to see a tall, angular, silver-haired woman in a tailored green jacket and skirt, a neat green necktie against a crisp white shirt. She is glaring at a rather plain gentleman in the dress uniform of the Shining Guard. On his left lapel he wears a pin with the symbol Rothenend's secretary warned her against. He seems unimpressed by the woman's bluster, and she seems even less impressed with his stubbornness.

[AftermathGM]

Georg takes a deep breath. This is a killing field full of pit traps. The objective on the other side is of huge importance and likely worth the risk, but he has to place his feet carefully if he's going to make it there intact. "I hear what you are asking. If I believe your observations are without basis, I am willing to tell you so and to gather independent evidence to prove or disprove them."

Georg holds up his hand. "I cannot unconditionally swear secrecy. For the duration of my investigation, I can keep this secret—so long as I don't uncover a threat to the city that requires immediate action. But once I have made my report? If there is a danger and you do not act, then I will have to take independent action, even if it means implicating you." He lowers his hand and looks Antior in the eyes. "I'm not saying I don't trust you to do the right thing, but I want to be crystal clear that I will put my loyalty to the city—to the people of Meriava—ahead of my loyalty to you. If that is not acceptable to you, then we should call this off now."

Antior doesn't even hesitate. "Swordmaster Drexel was not wrong. You are exactly the person I need for this. I could not have asked for a better answer," he says, extending his hand to Georg.

As they shake their agreement, Antior gestures to the chair on the visitor's side of the desk, while he takes his own seat. The decor and the furnishings may be utilitarian, even brutalist, but the carpenters recognized that they would be largely be serving soldiers and made them solid. More solid than most of the frippery that populates the School in general, certainly.

Master Antior unlocks a drawer and pulls out a sealed package, which he sets atop the desk. After unwinding the twine holding it closed, he opens it to reveal a stack of papers, three pieces of memory glass, and a narrow, almost delicate, silver ring.

"This is a compilation of the evidence I have been able to acquire. I will tell you my suspicions, but leave you to examine the evidence and determine what the next steps will be," he says, then pushes the packet toward Georg and leans back in his chair.

"I value loyalty to duty very highly, so I think you will understand how hesitant I am to state that I believe that Headmaster Rothenend and Master Aisurn Iene of Jade College are working together to bypass the Wards. I suspect that Master Iene's motivation is to allow his people trapped in Meriava to go home to the Vaelt. I do not know what Rothenend expects to get as part of this transaction, but I believe it has something to do with..."

He wrinkles his nose and looks away for a moment. "With legends," he eventually says, under his breath. "Elven legends of the uemannala. Are you familiar with these stories? Protectors of the common people, enemies of the corrupt and powerful?"

[AftermathGM]

Her calm curiosity breaks at the mention of the 'mildly officious young woman' - a sharp indignant sniff escapes her. "Oh, I'm sure she did," she mutters. "Even though I swore to her not more than an hour ago that I knew nothing about it." Her lips purse into a disdainful grimace, and her eyes roll briefly heavenward. "Katen would like to blame me for everything that goes wrong in the world, and has done so ever since we were in our very first seminar together."

Most likely, Katen is only too happy to have someone she dislikes conveniently appear to have suspicions pinned upon her, whether just or unjust.

Iana takes a breath, and reminds herself yet again to take care that she does not take advantage of the same convenience. As much as she secretly wished that Katen was the villain that they sought…

"Truly, Sayesti," Iana continues, her voice returning to smooth genuine sincerity. "It was only recently that I noticed that not all of the… rerouting slips were where they should be. And," she adds, her eyes returning to meet the other woman's straight on, "I have been trying to set things right."

Sayesti's smile angles across her face. "She did seem overly affronted. Possibly good that she joined the Archivists where she can take care of books rather than being read like one out in the field," she says dryly.

Her tone changes then, becomes more neutral, more casual. "Have you spoken to Dara about this situation? She has asked me a few questions, perhaps she's gotten around to you as well?" She rubs at the backs of her knuckles on her left hand. It might be a nervous gesture. It might be a sign, but if it is, it's not one she's used before, nor is it a common one among Obsidians. Iana can't help the nagging suspicion that she's being entirely too casual. And if that's the case, she's almost certainly trying to suggest something without doing so explicitly.

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

Sayesti's smile angles across her face. "She did seem overly affronted. Possibly good that she joined the Archivists where she can take care of books rather than being read like one out in the field," she says dryly.

Her tone changes then, becomes more neutral, more casual. "Have you spoken to Dara about this situation? She has asked me a few questions, perhaps she's gotten around to you as well?" She rubs at the backs of her knuckles on her left hand. It might be a nervous gesture. It might be a sign, but if it is, it's not one she's used before, nor is it a common one among Obsidians. Iana can't help the nagging suspicion that she's being entirely too casual. And if that's the case, she's almost certainly trying to suggest something without doing so explicitly.

Despite the tension, Iana can't help but let a genuine laugh break through at Sayesti's sardonic comment, one that brightens the sparkle of her emerald eyes and brings an ease to her expression that she has not felt for hours.

Her gaze only leaves Sayesti's for the briefest flicker down at that hand gesture. Clearly it means something, but what it could possibly be, Iana does not know. The sign for some secret society? If so, it is not one that Iana has ever seen before.

She knows Sayesti well enough to be certain that she was not mistaken about the other woman's response before: Sayesti herself is definitely not part of the conspiracy. Iana supposes that she should not be surprised at how much she has been able to observe about Sayesti - after all, they have worked alongside each other for years. And for all of those years, Iana has admired Sayesti's competence and integrity (and, she must admit, her perfect eye makeup), and knows that those qualities cannot be faked.

So whatever the sign means, Iana reasons, it cannot be an invitation for Iana to share in the conspiracy that she is currently opposing.

A test, then. One last check to determine whether Iana can truly be trusted: showing her the sign of the enemy to see if she returns it. Or perhaps the signal is one for a group of allies, in which case it would be to Iana's benefit to return it, signaling to Sayesti that they truly are on the same side.

Or for a third faction, because on a day like today, nothing can ever be as simple as it seems.

Still, Iana has no choice but to be honest: she will not return a signal whose meaning she does not know, not when the stakes are this high. If someone like Sayesti can be her ally in this, then Iana will feel all the more secure.

So she looks back up, one hand coming to rest lightly on the pile of books, avoiding even a coincidental mirror of that gesture. "No, Dara hasn't spoken to me about it," Iana replies, just as casually - which is to say, not casually at all under the surface. "This is something that I have been researching on my own. You know how it is," she adds, with a little flutter of her free hand. "You spot a thread, and you must see where it leads, so you give it a bit of a tug, and follow to the end."