This is part five of this story, adapted from an on-going play-by-forum session of Numenera. If you haven't already, you'll want to start with part one (and from there, parts 2, 3, and 4, of course) before you read this installment. Enjoy!
For important disclaimers and whatnot please see the Tears of the Gods table of contents page.
***
Previously in "Tears of the Gods"
The man in the other cage was emaciated and covered in horrible rope-like burns. He struggled to sit up. "I was taken, like you, from a tavern near to the entrance pier. Did you perhaps accept the offer of a free drink?"
Through a window high above the arena, two pairs of amber eyes watched the fight unfold. "They are doing well. They can fight. They have esoteries. They could be the right ones."
Yimoul-Za popped open the small case and looked inside. "Look," he said as he handed the case to Krystogh. "Quite something." The case contained a set of cosmetics, facepaints, lippy, sparklepowder, and such.
Frater Bellias turned his amber eyes to his oval tablet as he spoke in measured tones. "Three days journey to the east is a village on the coast called Fallside. One of our Order, Frater Neymich, has made his home there. You are to carry a sealed message to him..."
The Krai leader paused and look back and forth between Gormin and the aneen. "Beast food? Beast nei food, nei cultural. Vol food. Nei vol food?"
Pytha smiled at Lameth and hissed menacingly. "But nothing we can’t handle. We could have been such friends." She lashed out with both arms, blindingly fast.
Neymich's eyelids fluttered. He struggled to speak. "Tell Aliser. Tell Bellias," he wheezed. "Loarn was right. The Tears are real, they exist. Loarn knew..."
***
Date: 12th Fre in the 401st Year of the Founding
Tempus
Toorkmeyn's artifact was certainly a strange one, a vaguely rectangular nest of cables, tubes, and glowy bits—not all of them connected—with a makeshift handle at one end and a focus crystal at the other. Tempus turned it over in his hand again, holding it up to the light. The thing had no entry in The Chronicles, but there were many similar devices therein. It had probably come off of something larger before being jury-rigged into its present configuration. He put the weapon down and made some notes in his journal.
He closed his journal and handed the weapon back to Lameth. "It should have a few charges left," he reported. "Be careful with it."
Lameth thanked him.
An awkward silence settled while the group—including Neymich—waited to hear what the Order had in store for them next.
Yimoul-Za paced the floor of the Archive lounge restlessly, glancing up now and again at the empty speaking platform in the centre of the room. The light in his large eye was shifting rapidly. "I must be at the Coral Palace soon. And some of you will join me?"
Gormin nodded. "The authorities at the Coral Palace will want to know about Fallside. I will go with you once Venerance Aliser or Frater Bellias debriefs us."
Tempus gazed out the windows at the City of Bridges and let his mind wander. When I get a moment, I should examine some of this world's maps and calendars, he mused. At least I may figure out if I'm in the past or future—or an alternate present—not that that information would be of any immediate use.
Aliser's voice, speaking from the air, broke his reverie. "Neymich! I would speak with you now. You have been in possession of information that would have helped the Arechive. Now our enemies have it."
Neymich stood and shuffled arthritically toward the the centre of the room, up the spiral stairs to the circular platform, and into the column that led to Aliser's office. After some time, Frater Bellias emerged from the column, consulting his oval tablet.
Bellias stepped forward to the rail of the speaking platform and looked down at the group. "Iadace, welcome back to the Arechive. Sadly, in the Truth, neither of your companions has returned."
He noticed Lameth then, still holding Toorkmeyn's weapon. "You, I don’t know." He turned to Gormin. "Has he been tested? You know our standards here in the Arechive. In the Truth, we can only take the best to serve us."
"He has been tested in battle, which is the only test that matters. We might not have saved Neymich without him." Gormin folded his arms. "What is this information Venerance Aliser is talking about? Would this be concerning the Tears of the Gods, which you said were a children's fable?"
Bellias sighed and gestured vaguely. "Let us sit and talk. Something of concern has occurred." He made his way down the platform's spiral stairs to the lounge. Tempus thought he looked tired.
Lameth stood and bowed as Bellias approached. "Iadace, Frater Bellias. I am Lameth, a wandering soul seeking fame and glory. My companions have already told me a little about you—only the best, of course."
Bellias barely glanced his way. "Normally, I would be interested in talking with you. In the Truth, I have more pressing matters." He looked out the window and gathered himself.
"You may not know this, but King Laird is king only in name. He has no real interest in ruling the country; he is a seafarer and spends much of his time at sea on one of his many ships. The real power behind the throne is wielded by his younger brother Shallin through his daughters and the Rakoth. The Rakoth have spies everywhere, paid informers and small numenera devices such as this."
Bellias produced an orange and black scarab-like device. "Do not worry; this one is not working. These can record conversations and images and project them into the Datasphere. It was by chance that an aspirant was in the library and overheard this broadcast..."
He touched a stud on his tablet and Frater Neymich’s voice filled the room. "Tell Aliser. Tell Bellias. Loarn was right. The Tears are real; they exist. Loarn knew and he left the journal in the shrine of the Winged God."
"Now the aspirant has gone missing; she went out into the city on an errand and has not returned. I think she is in the hands of the Rakoth."
Bellias' normally thin face looked especially drawn. He took a deep breath. "I would like you to enter the Coral Palace and rescue her."
Yimoul-Za nodded his huge eyestalk enthusiastically. "Yes, we were heading there anyway. How shall we identify her? Will she want to come quietly?"
Bellias did not answer immediately, but sat on one of the lounge's low couches and closed his eyes.
"Her name is Lissia," Bellias said at last, eyes still closed. "She resembles me. She is my daughter."
Gormin let out a bark of harsh laughter. "A suicide mission, eh? Fun times." He looked round at the others. None shared his amusement.
His smile vanished and he continued, slightly more sympathetically. "We will go and do what we can, but we are not an army. Besieging the Coral Palace is beyond our capabilities. Sneaking her out may be possible, but it will be incredibly difficult if they have taken even rudimentary precautions. But we can go and case out the place and see what we can do."
Gormin sighed and shook his head. "You should prepare yourself for the possibility that a negotiated solution may be the only way to free her, however. If Loarn and the Tears of the Gods are what they are interested in, do we have permission to offer what knowledge you have about those things in exchange for Lissia's freedom? You say the Tears are a fable and Loarn a disgrace, so I would not think keeping that information secret would be of any interest to you anyway. While we are on the subject, what is the Shrine of the Winged God? And... this may be a sensitive question... does Venerance Aliser know you are sending us on this mission? He seems like the type to try official channels first."
Bellias said nothing.
Tempus rose and offered Bellias a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "I can certainly appreciate your pain—I have lost my wife and my village. But for a mission of such importance, why come to us? Surely the Order has better armed and trained agents to carry out this mission? We are a rather... haphazardly collected bunch, with no real motivation to see this through. What incentive is there for putting ourselves in such extraordinary danger?"
Frater Bellias rose.
"The Order does not have standing armies, unlike the kingdoms. We rely on recruited mercenaries and soldiers—especially here in Ghan, where we are not popular or welcome. We always test our recruits—we have to, to ensure that they are reliable for our purpose."
He stepped forward and leaned heavily against the window.
"Loarn was obsessed with the Tears of the Gods; we mounted two expeditions in search of them. He bankrupted the Arechive to finance his third and final one, the one from which he did not return. The Venerence ordered his name to be stricken from the records."
He turned and thrust the scarab forward at Tempus.
"Now, it appears that Loarn was right and that Neymich knew this. The Tears are said to be a source of great wealth—of knowledge and of power. Power beyond anything known. Yet you," turning toward Gormin, "would willingly hand this over to our enemies!"
He touched the button to replay Neymich’s voice again. "Tell Aliser; tell Bellias. Loarn was right. The Tears are real; they exist. Loarn knew and he left the journal in the shrine of the Winged God."
"This is why my daughter is in the hands of the Rakoth. You have seen what they are capable of." He scanned the group and raised his voice. "Which one of you betrayed her?"
Gormin glanced sidelong at Yimoul-Za for a moment, then shook his head at Bellias. "Why do you think we betrayed you? If we were working for the Rakoth, we would have handed Neymich over to them instead of you. Think now. You said yourself those scarabs are everywhere. I saw one at the aneen-dealer's stall when I was buying old Fregg. Maybe it was him.
"Let me ask you this. If Rakoth guardsmen showed up at the front door and demanded Neymich be handed over, what would you do? Send us out to fight them?" Gormin snorted derisively. "Like I say, we are no army. A few bandits are one thing, but the entire constabulary and militia of a major capital city are quite another. You say Laird's nieces are your enemies, but they are the rightful rulers of this kingdom, and like it or not, they run this town. We have to play by their rules. If I were you, I would send Neymich away, out of the City, before one of their spies tell them we walked him in here in broad daylight. If Neymich knows where the Tears are and they know where Neymich is, their next move seems pretty obvious. But feel free to take my advice or ignore it, as you wish."
Gormin gestured dismissively. "As for the Tears, it is no concern of mine who dreams of wealth and power beyond imagining, nor who goes bankrupt chasing said dreams, nor who is the enemy of who. Even if the stories are true, these Tears are likely as dangerous to their discoverer as to anyone else. Why has Loarn not returned? Either he was wrong again, or he was right but the Tears were too dangerous for him. And yes, we all saw what the Rakoth did to Syrus, but we have also seen what you are capable of."
He pointed at Bellias. "That guy in the cage next to us under the arena—he was an Aeon Priest too, was he not? His speech patterns were very similar to yours, and he had the same odd burn-mark. Where is he now? Dead? Is that how you take care of your own?"
Gormin shook his head. "This is what we will do. Some of us will go to the Coral Palace and see what we can find out. If an opportunity presents itself to help Lissia without undue risk to ourselves we will take it. Otherwise, we will come back and tell you what we've learned. We don't really even owe you that much, but I am feeling generous today."
Tempus nodded as Gormin spoke, concluding that even if Bellias were telling them the truth, he must either be incredibly naive or driven to irrationality by the loss of his daughter. No hired agent would willingly surrender the Tears of the Gods if they laid hands on it—not if they are as powerful as claimed.
But Tempus kept his silence.
Yimoul-Za tilted his eye sideways. "I understand your daughter is precious, but could you not grow other seedlings? Not every sapling will grow to be a tree."
Bellias shook his head and strode away in the direction of the library. He spoke as he walked.
"The Tears are real. Those were the words Frater Neymich spoke to you in Fallside. You all saw what happened to him; Sinys and her trademark are well-known in the Steadfast. Who do you think trained her? Do you want the Rakoth to obtain the Tears?"
The library door whisked open. Bellias stood in the threshold and turned back.
"The man in the cage. Would you like to meet him?" He stepped fully into the library and the door whispered shut.
The group exchanged puzzled looks.
Some time later, the library door opened again and another man emerged from it. He also wore the orange and black robes of an Aeon Priest, but he looked old, stooped, emaciated. His arms were covered in thick rope-like burns and he spoke in a hoarse whisper.
"I was taken, like you, from a tavern near to the entrance pier. Did you perhaps accept the offer of a free drink?"
The newcomer straightened up and spoke with Bellias' voice. "Now do you understand?"
In the stunned silence, Tempus studied the reactions of the others. Bellias has revealed some sort of deception, he realized.
Gormin's face was a gathering storm. "Understand? I understand you're a dissembling sack of drit, jerking us around like puppets on a string. That's..." He stopped and seemed to get a hold of himself. "That's not necessarily a deal-breaker—I have worked with many such in my time, and I'm no angel myself. We already suspected things were not as they seemed anyway. Still... your behaviour raises more questions than it answers even now."
He took a deep breath. "But the most important question we need an answer to is, what is it you really expect us to do? I have already said we will go to the Coral Palace and have a look—as many of us as are willing—but I'm given to understand it's a large building housing hundreds of people, and I doubt they're just going to let us wander around unsupervised looking for your daughter. We don't even know for sure she's there and not in the city's mutant quarter, tenderly embraced in the three arms of her secret paramour. Or dead in an alley. Or working for the Rakoth. You believe she's captive in the Palace, but that's supposition, and by the way, this is all also assuming that you are playing straight with us, which if you are would be a first. Frankly, there's a lot we don't know. So I'm not yet ready to commit to anything more than, we'll have a look and see what we can do. A wise general knows the value of scouting and spying before committing to a plan of battle. Not that I'm a general, or even wise, but you get the idea. Which reminds me, if you have a floorplan of the Coral Palace in that library, it might be helpful."
He rubbed the hairless back of his head. "But I have to say... both of our previous two missions were based on lies and deceptions from the so-called Order of Truth from the very beginning. So, tell me: is this one also? Is Lissia even a real person, or is this another elaborate test? Are we going to come back from the Coral Palace and see Toorkmeyn standing on the platform over there smiling down beneficently at us in an orange robe and miter, congratulating us on passing another test?"
Bellias shook his head angrily. "Why do you say being asked to carry a message to Fallside was based on a lie? That is what you were asked to do, that is what you did. I had no idea that Toorkmeyn would be there, or that something had attacked the town."
He stomped back towards the upper lounge.
"You are supposed to be adventurers, seekers of excitement and fortune. You have skills and abilities. Use them. Or, is that one of your lies? You have twenty-eight hours to decide if you want to keep working for the Order."
The platform's central column's door silently slid open to admit Bellias.
Gormin frowned after him as he disappeared. "Not one for answering questions, is he? And so sensitive. He'll get over it though. Perhaps the library has the information we need, if he hasn't yet cut off our access to it."
He turned and left for the library.
Syrus spoke up. "I will do. Nothing better. Would like things prior. Help us. Electro-whip from arena. Would be nice."
Kiraz nodded. "I agree. I do not know if we will be successful in getting her out of the Coral Palace, if she is indeed there. But the least we can do is try to see what we can find out."
Tempus sighed.
***
Date: 13th Fre, in the 401st Year of the Founding
Gormin
The slowly spinning turbines of the Wind Spire loomed high to the right as the group pressed its way through the bustling marketplace of the Hub.
A familiar voice hailed Gormin—the aneen-seller.
"Ho friend, how is your aneen? Can I interest you in several brehm that I have just acquired at a good price?"
Gormin ignored him. He noted absently that many of the hawkers and vendors were selling decorations for the upcoming Festival of the Burning Moon. Hopefully I'll still be in town for that—might be fun.
The Coral Palace sprawled over most of a platform in the northwest of the city. Gormin noted with approval that the bridges and piers leading to it all had drawbridge sections that could be dropped or raised to isolate the palace. One can never be too careful.
On a balcony above the palace's heavy main doors stood two guards in ornate armour. The armour had a layer of overlapping metal plates, like fish scales, and their helmets were crested with fish-like fins. The guards carried polearms topped with large, sharpened metal rings. More decorative than functional, but probably functional enough, Gormin decided.
One of the guards called out. "State your business at the Coral Palace."
Yimoul-Za stepped forward and bowed awkwardly. "I am here to meet with Lady Isla. Please inform her that the golthiar has returned."
An odd look passed between the two guards. Gormin frowned. The one that had spoken thumped the floor of the balcony twice with the butt of his polearm. The massive metal doors swung smoothly and silently open. "Wait in the Reception Room," he called down to them.
The group entered. The lobby was a circular hall, with three passages leading away in three directions, not counting the door they'd come in. Two rows of statues, monuments, and odd relics mounted on plinths formed a central aisle in the room; paintings and tapestries lined the coral-encrusted walls. Gormin did not recognize any of the heroes depicted in the hall. As they moved into the lobby, two more ornately armoured guards with polearms flanking a shorter man dressed in a dark, formal robe emerged from a side passage.
The short man greeted them cordially. "Welcome to the Coral Palace, honoured guests, home of the Royal House of Vanlith. The Lady Isla will see you in the Reception room. Please, come this way. I am Kresich and I have the honour to be the majordomo."
Kresich the honoured majordomo chattered as he led the way through the west door and into softly lit chamber with low tables and expensive-looking sofas. There was another closed door to the west—at least Gormin thought it was the west—opposite from where they'd come in.
Gormin cast his gaze about suspiciously. This already doesn't match the floorplan in the library.
"...and be seated," Kresich was saying. "I will arrange for refreshments to be served. The Royal trading fleet travels the world; we have many exotic foods, beverages, and sweetmeats to offer. Do you have a particular preference?"
Gormin ignored him and looked up. On the ceiling was more coral and four vaguely star-shaped objects, each about an arm-length in diameter. They looked to be made of the same material as the coral. Defense mechanism?
Kiraz answered the majordomo. "If you have any krinek, that would be nice."
Syrus mumbled something or other. Tempus, not bothering to conceal his curiosity for the sake of politeness, stepped away to examine the coral more closely.
Kresich inclined his head. "We have both seared and pounded krinek. Would you like the traditional side of raw laak tails with it?"
"Yes, please," Kiraz replied.
He bowed and disappeared through the east door.
Shortly afterwards, the west door opened and a brightly smiling girl strode into the room, attended by two more guards. She had on a long, peach-colored dress held up by a coppery brooch at the right shoulder. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Yimoul-Za.
"Oh, you've come back! And you've brought some friends as well." She clapped her hands together as she surveyed the group. "I'm so pleased. Let's sit and talk. I'm Lady Isla and I look after this place. Now, tell me about yourselves; I want to hear all about the sorts of weird things you've seen."
She sat, and waved the group to sit as well. Her voice was high-pitched, child-like. Gormin gritted his teeth. He sat. Isla had a musky, not-particularly-pleasant fragrance. Perfume? The customs and fashions of the nobility are strange indeed, he thought, but said nothing.
"Greetings, Lady Isla," said Yimoul-Za. "Again we meet. I am a golthiar in possession of the light of the sun. I seek to return to the sun to revive it."
Yimoul-Za narrated their adventures then: the arena, the chronal feeders, the sudden appearance of Tempus, the Krai. Isla hung on his every word, gasping at the dangers they'd faced and beaming and clapping at their triumphs.
The krinek and laak tails arrived while Yimoul-Za was speaking. Gormin picked up a raw laak tail and dipped it into the fragrant bowl of pounded krinek. He sucked the juicy reptilian meat off the bone. "Nothing like freshly pounded krinek," he mumbled with his mouth full.
"Such lovely stories and fascinating things," Isla remarked. "I love hearing about strange things. I like collecting them, although I don’t have very many." She pouted playfully.
Yimoul-Za continued his story. When he got to the part about Fallside, Gormin put in, "We don't know if word has already reached you about the destruction of Fallside, but we thought it was important for you to know. We didn't want to cause a general panic among the masses though, so we have not publicly announced the news ourselves."
She frowned. "Fallside? I've never heard of it. Was it important?"
She looked back at Yimoul-Za and giggled. She reached out her left hand tentatively before withdrawing it shyly. "Can I touch you?"
Gormin made a valiant effort not to roll his eyes. He glanced over at the guards; they still stood stoically at the door, not visibly reacting to Isla's lack of royal decorum. He returned his attention to Yimoul-Za and Isla.
"Of course, my lady!" said Yimoul-Za. "In fact, why don't you try this? It will invigorate you." He tore out a piece of the Flame of the Klang and handed it to her.
"It's safe to eat, m'lady," mumbled Gormin. He dipped another laak tail in the pounded krinek. "What manner of strange things do you collect?"
Isla clapped her hands delightedly. "Why, I’ve got lots of things. I keep some on display; come, I’ll show you!"
She led the group through the west door; the guards followed.
The next room was another, even larger, circular chamber with multiple exits. As with every other room he'd seen of the palace, growths of weeping coral covered most of the walls.
Around the chamber were niches and alcoves carved out of the coral, each containing various oddities. The centre of the chamber was dominated by a floor to ceiling column of water, perhaps ten paces across, lit green-blue from an invisible source. The water had no obvious means of support. Inside it, seaweeds grew and half a dozen pale fish trailing long, ropy tentacles darted about. On a plinth in the water stood a statue of a nude female human, painted true-to-life, its back to the group.
Isla showed off some of the items on display.
Dangling from a brass chain descending from the ceiling was what appeared to be the severed fist of a reptilian humanoid. As the group approached, the hand whirled around and extended a finger to point at Isla.
"It points at whomever's closest," Isla explained. She pulled Yimoul-Za forward, and the hand pointed at him. Gormin noted that the hand had six fingers.
She showed off a three-sided pyramid of reflective metal, open on one side. The pyramid contained a purple sphere within it; but the sphere was much bigger than the pyramid. It hurt Gormin's brain to stare at it.
"Bigger on the inside," Isla said, as if that explained anything.
She picked up an orange and black scarab-like device and turned to Yimoul-Za. "I gave you one of these. Have you lost it? You can have this one if you like. I like giving gifts to my friends."
Yimoul-Za politely declined it.
Isla moved towards a spherical clear tank containing nothing but water. She giggled and clapped her hands. "I love this one. My sister gave it to me, last Safe Haven. It's an invisible fish. I keep looking, but I haven't seen it yet."
Gormin gently tapped the clear tank to see if it caused any reaction in the water. Nothing. "Are you close to your sisters, m'lady?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation in a more productive direction.
Isla beamed at Gormin. "My sisters love me, and I love them!" She spread her hands, taking in the room. "They've given me all of this to play with, and they give me new toys constantly."
She paused, frowning. "Daddy is different. He spends all his time with Uncle Laird, telling him what to do. He is the Royal Advisor after all."
She showed them one more oddity, a cubic black metal frame, inside of which was a fist-sized, multicolored sparkling ball, also of black metal. Isla extracted the ball and showed it to them. The ball dripped colorful sparks as it moved. She threw it on the floor; it bounced several times in random, unexpected directions, leaving a trail of short-lived color.
The ball vanished from sight.
"Don't worry; it will be back," promised Isla. She bit her lip.
After a few moments, the sparkling ball re-appeared in the box-shaped frame. Isla smiled.
"It always does that. If, one day, it didn’t come back, I think I would cry. But the ball is my friend!"
She turned to Yimoul-Za. "Now, what can you show me?"
"Well, I don't know that I have anything as marvelous," said Yimoul-Za. He withdrew the makeup case from a pocket in his robe and showed it to Isla.
"Ooh, I like this. Can I have it? I can use it for the party. I like dressing up for parties."
Gormin tuned out her enthusiastic burbling and wandered away. He saw Tempus sketching and taking notes in his journal about the various oddities in the room.
A discreet cough from the direction of the north door. A page boy in embroidered livery stood there. "My Lady. Your father wishes to speak with you in the garden."
Isla's face fell. "Oh. I was having so much fun with my new friends. Bye bye. Don’t forget to come to the party. Be here by Wane on the 22nd of Fre!" Burning Moon, Gormin knew. She left through the north door with the page. The two guards remained in the collection room. Gormin wondered what their protocol was. Must Isla have an escort at all times within the palace? Do all the guards go about in pairs?
After the guards had gone, Tempus discreetly motioned Gormin over. He nodded toward the statue within the column of water. "Notice anything?"
Gormin took a closer look. The underwater statue was quite realistic-looking: a thin, young woman with hands demurely covering her nakedness, blue eyes wide with trepidation. Her long, light brown hair streamed out to one side as if in a strong wind. Her hair did not move with the sloshing of the water, but neither was it frozen rigidly in place. Rather, it waved in slow motion. An interesting effect, but surely Tempus is not calling attention to that.
He found the overall aesthetic more unsettling than arousing. There was something about her long, thin face, too. Why does she look familiar? Is she a famous hero? He racked his brain.
He saw it then. "Bellias' daughter," he muttered. Well, that was easier than expected. He looked round. The guards were on the opposite side of the water from them, out of sight.
Tempus nodded. "I'm going to try some Hedge Magic. Stand back."
Gormin took a step away from Tempus. Tempus flicked his fingers at the column of water.
One of the fish jerked around, turning its eyeless face toward Tempus. It lashed out an impossibly long tentacle at him catching him full in the face. He hissed in pain and dropped to one knee.
Kiraz and Syrus hurried over to help Tempus. Gormin stepped further to the side and sneaked a peek at the guards. They hadn't seen the commotion. He noticed Lameth also, staring off into space, distracted.
"Lameth!" he whispered. He didn't seem to hear. Gormin approached Lameth—unhurriedly, so as not to draw undue attention—and gave him a discreet nudge of the elbow. Lameth looked at him. Gormin tapped his forehead and then pointed at the faux statue.
Lameth nodded. He looked toward Lissia, took a deep breath, and frowned in concentration.
The ropy fish suddenly became agitated, darting around the tank, evidently seeking the source of the invisible disturbance.
"She is not dead," whispered Lameth after a few seconds, "But she is not truly alive either. Her mind is empty, as if it were elsewhere."
The fish settled down. Gormin glanced at Tempus. His face was swelling up as he grimaced with the effort to not cry out. Kiraz and Syrus were putting together some kind of herbal poultice for him from a kit one of them had.
He turned back to Lameth. "Elsewhere? Not just unconscious?" He frowned. "In another body? Implanted in a numenera device? Astrally travelling? I've heard of such, but it's not my area of expertise."
Lameth shook his head slowly. "I don’t know. It's like time, for her, is moving very slowly."
Yimoul-Za joined their conspiratorial whispering. "I wonder if I could fake some kind of racial misunderstanding and break the tank."
Gormin surreptitiously scratched the side of his face, blocking the guards' view of his mouth, just in case they could read lips. "Just breaking the tank could be very dangerous, I think. Tempus looks like he's having a rough time with that poisoned sting, and those fish may be able to lash out at us even out of the water. What we need is to see if it's even possible for solid objects to pass into the tank the same way that tentacle passed out of it. If so, then we need to go find a detonation cypher—maybe from Bellias—and come back, set off the cypher in the tank, kill the fish, and pull Lissia out. This would probably need to wait until the party so that we would have cover to sneak out. If we do it now, the guards will just swarm us. But Lissia seems to be in stasis so she can wait."
Gormin picked up the sparkling ball—Isla's "friend"—and eyed it contemplatively. "What we could do, is experiment—see if it is possible to put things in the tank." He bounced the ball on the floor, trying to get a sense of how it would rebound. Deciding that the ball's bounce was in fact unpredictable, he stepped back around the tank, out of sight of the guards, backed up to what he hoped was out of tentacle range, and tossed the ball underhand at the column of water. The ball trailed bright blue, orange, and pink sparks as it arced toward the column.
It stopped at the water/air interface, hung in the air for a second, and sunk slowly to the floor. After a moment it vanished and re-appeared in its box.
"Hm." While Gormin was contemplating what to do next, Kresich re-appeared.
"My apologies. It is time for the palace to eat, and so you must leave." He bowed and gestured toward the door they'd entered.
Gormin took a crack at courtliness. "Please convey our sincerest regrets to the Lady Isla that we were not able to stay longer—indeed the gods themselves could not shed tears equal to our sorrow though chased by the Great Hunter—but that we would happily accept her gracious invitation to attend the upcoming party. We are also great admirers of the Ladies Janira and Jamira and eagerly look forward to meeting them as well."
He watched the majordomo carefully to see if he would react to the Tears of the Gods being hinted at, but he merely nodded courteously, evidently well-accustomed to guests' eccentric blandishments.
As Gormin passed by, he noticed that Kresich had the same musky odour that Isla had had.
The group passed out of Kresich's sight into the Reception Room. From somewhere deep in the palace came the sound of at least three aneen bellowing.
Lameth whispered, "I am hesitant to use my mind-speech; things in here seem to react strangely to the use of esoteries. However, I am picking up the sensation of hunger."
Gormin shrugged. "Well, Kresich did say it was meal-time."
"That's not actually what he said."
He stopped and stared at Lameth. The rest of the group stopped as well.
Syrus piped up. "It's t- time for eat the palace—for palace to eat. Palace?" He looked around.
Gormin looked around also. Viscous, pale fluid leaked from the coral encrusting the wall. The bellowing aneen sounded increasingly distressed, panicked.
"The palace?" repeated Gormin. "So, not a figure of speech? Nei cultural, crito?" He smiled faintly at his joke, but resumed moving toward the palace exit, with a quickness. The group followed.
To be continued...
For important disclaimers and whatnot please see the Tears of the Gods table of contents page.
***
Previously in "Tears of the Gods"
The man in the other cage was emaciated and covered in horrible rope-like burns. He struggled to sit up. "I was taken, like you, from a tavern near to the entrance pier. Did you perhaps accept the offer of a free drink?"
Through a window high above the arena, two pairs of amber eyes watched the fight unfold. "They are doing well. They can fight. They have esoteries. They could be the right ones."
Yimoul-Za popped open the small case and looked inside. "Look," he said as he handed the case to Krystogh. "Quite something." The case contained a set of cosmetics, facepaints, lippy, sparklepowder, and such.
Frater Bellias turned his amber eyes to his oval tablet as he spoke in measured tones. "Three days journey to the east is a village on the coast called Fallside. One of our Order, Frater Neymich, has made his home there. You are to carry a sealed message to him..."
The Krai leader paused and look back and forth between Gormin and the aneen. "Beast food? Beast nei food, nei cultural. Vol food. Nei vol food?"
Pytha smiled at Lameth and hissed menacingly. "But nothing we can’t handle. We could have been such friends." She lashed out with both arms, blindingly fast.
Neymich's eyelids fluttered. He struggled to speak. "Tell Aliser. Tell Bellias," he wheezed. "Loarn was right. The Tears are real, they exist. Loarn knew..."
***
Date: 12th Fre in the 401st Year of the Founding
Tempus
Toorkmeyn's artifact was certainly a strange one, a vaguely rectangular nest of cables, tubes, and glowy bits—not all of them connected—with a makeshift handle at one end and a focus crystal at the other. Tempus turned it over in his hand again, holding it up to the light. The thing had no entry in The Chronicles, but there were many similar devices therein. It had probably come off of something larger before being jury-rigged into its present configuration. He put the weapon down and made some notes in his journal.
He closed his journal and handed the weapon back to Lameth. "It should have a few charges left," he reported. "Be careful with it."
Lameth thanked him.
An awkward silence settled while the group—including Neymich—waited to hear what the Order had in store for them next.
Yimoul-Za paced the floor of the Archive lounge restlessly, glancing up now and again at the empty speaking platform in the centre of the room. The light in his large eye was shifting rapidly. "I must be at the Coral Palace soon. And some of you will join me?"
Gormin nodded. "The authorities at the Coral Palace will want to know about Fallside. I will go with you once Venerance Aliser or Frater Bellias debriefs us."
Tempus gazed out the windows at the City of Bridges and let his mind wander. When I get a moment, I should examine some of this world's maps and calendars, he mused. At least I may figure out if I'm in the past or future—or an alternate present—not that that information would be of any immediate use.
Aliser's voice, speaking from the air, broke his reverie. "Neymich! I would speak with you now. You have been in possession of information that would have helped the Arechive. Now our enemies have it."
Neymich stood and shuffled arthritically toward the the centre of the room, up the spiral stairs to the circular platform, and into the column that led to Aliser's office. After some time, Frater Bellias emerged from the column, consulting his oval tablet.
Bellias stepped forward to the rail of the speaking platform and looked down at the group. "Iadace, welcome back to the Arechive. Sadly, in the Truth, neither of your companions has returned."
He noticed Lameth then, still holding Toorkmeyn's weapon. "You, I don’t know." He turned to Gormin. "Has he been tested? You know our standards here in the Arechive. In the Truth, we can only take the best to serve us."
"He has been tested in battle, which is the only test that matters. We might not have saved Neymich without him." Gormin folded his arms. "What is this information Venerance Aliser is talking about? Would this be concerning the Tears of the Gods, which you said were a children's fable?"
Bellias sighed and gestured vaguely. "Let us sit and talk. Something of concern has occurred." He made his way down the platform's spiral stairs to the lounge. Tempus thought he looked tired.
Lameth stood and bowed as Bellias approached. "Iadace, Frater Bellias. I am Lameth, a wandering soul seeking fame and glory. My companions have already told me a little about you—only the best, of course."
Bellias barely glanced his way. "Normally, I would be interested in talking with you. In the Truth, I have more pressing matters." He looked out the window and gathered himself.
"You may not know this, but King Laird is king only in name. He has no real interest in ruling the country; he is a seafarer and spends much of his time at sea on one of his many ships. The real power behind the throne is wielded by his younger brother Shallin through his daughters and the Rakoth. The Rakoth have spies everywhere, paid informers and small numenera devices such as this."
Bellias produced an orange and black scarab-like device. "Do not worry; this one is not working. These can record conversations and images and project them into the Datasphere. It was by chance that an aspirant was in the library and overheard this broadcast..."
He touched a stud on his tablet and Frater Neymich’s voice filled the room. "Tell Aliser. Tell Bellias. Loarn was right. The Tears are real; they exist. Loarn knew and he left the journal in the shrine of the Winged God."
"Now the aspirant has gone missing; she went out into the city on an errand and has not returned. I think she is in the hands of the Rakoth."
Bellias' normally thin face looked especially drawn. He took a deep breath. "I would like you to enter the Coral Palace and rescue her."
Yimoul-Za nodded his huge eyestalk enthusiastically. "Yes, we were heading there anyway. How shall we identify her? Will she want to come quietly?"
Bellias did not answer immediately, but sat on one of the lounge's low couches and closed his eyes.
"Her name is Lissia," Bellias said at last, eyes still closed. "She resembles me. She is my daughter."
Gormin let out a bark of harsh laughter. "A suicide mission, eh? Fun times." He looked round at the others. None shared his amusement.
His smile vanished and he continued, slightly more sympathetically. "We will go and do what we can, but we are not an army. Besieging the Coral Palace is beyond our capabilities. Sneaking her out may be possible, but it will be incredibly difficult if they have taken even rudimentary precautions. But we can go and case out the place and see what we can do."
Gormin sighed and shook his head. "You should prepare yourself for the possibility that a negotiated solution may be the only way to free her, however. If Loarn and the Tears of the Gods are what they are interested in, do we have permission to offer what knowledge you have about those things in exchange for Lissia's freedom? You say the Tears are a fable and Loarn a disgrace, so I would not think keeping that information secret would be of any interest to you anyway. While we are on the subject, what is the Shrine of the Winged God? And... this may be a sensitive question... does Venerance Aliser know you are sending us on this mission? He seems like the type to try official channels first."
Bellias said nothing.
Tempus rose and offered Bellias a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "I can certainly appreciate your pain—I have lost my wife and my village. But for a mission of such importance, why come to us? Surely the Order has better armed and trained agents to carry out this mission? We are a rather... haphazardly collected bunch, with no real motivation to see this through. What incentive is there for putting ourselves in such extraordinary danger?"
Frater Bellias rose.
"The Order does not have standing armies, unlike the kingdoms. We rely on recruited mercenaries and soldiers—especially here in Ghan, where we are not popular or welcome. We always test our recruits—we have to, to ensure that they are reliable for our purpose."
He stepped forward and leaned heavily against the window.
"Loarn was obsessed with the Tears of the Gods; we mounted two expeditions in search of them. He bankrupted the Arechive to finance his third and final one, the one from which he did not return. The Venerence ordered his name to be stricken from the records."
He turned and thrust the scarab forward at Tempus.
"Now, it appears that Loarn was right and that Neymich knew this. The Tears are said to be a source of great wealth—of knowledge and of power. Power beyond anything known. Yet you," turning toward Gormin, "would willingly hand this over to our enemies!"
He touched the button to replay Neymich’s voice again. "Tell Aliser; tell Bellias. Loarn was right. The Tears are real; they exist. Loarn knew and he left the journal in the shrine of the Winged God."
"This is why my daughter is in the hands of the Rakoth. You have seen what they are capable of." He scanned the group and raised his voice. "Which one of you betrayed her?"
Gormin glanced sidelong at Yimoul-Za for a moment, then shook his head at Bellias. "Why do you think we betrayed you? If we were working for the Rakoth, we would have handed Neymich over to them instead of you. Think now. You said yourself those scarabs are everywhere. I saw one at the aneen-dealer's stall when I was buying old Fregg. Maybe it was him.
"Let me ask you this. If Rakoth guardsmen showed up at the front door and demanded Neymich be handed over, what would you do? Send us out to fight them?" Gormin snorted derisively. "Like I say, we are no army. A few bandits are one thing, but the entire constabulary and militia of a major capital city are quite another. You say Laird's nieces are your enemies, but they are the rightful rulers of this kingdom, and like it or not, they run this town. We have to play by their rules. If I were you, I would send Neymich away, out of the City, before one of their spies tell them we walked him in here in broad daylight. If Neymich knows where the Tears are and they know where Neymich is, their next move seems pretty obvious. But feel free to take my advice or ignore it, as you wish."
Gormin gestured dismissively. "As for the Tears, it is no concern of mine who dreams of wealth and power beyond imagining, nor who goes bankrupt chasing said dreams, nor who is the enemy of who. Even if the stories are true, these Tears are likely as dangerous to their discoverer as to anyone else. Why has Loarn not returned? Either he was wrong again, or he was right but the Tears were too dangerous for him. And yes, we all saw what the Rakoth did to Syrus, but we have also seen what you are capable of."
He pointed at Bellias. "That guy in the cage next to us under the arena—he was an Aeon Priest too, was he not? His speech patterns were very similar to yours, and he had the same odd burn-mark. Where is he now? Dead? Is that how you take care of your own?"
Gormin shook his head. "This is what we will do. Some of us will go to the Coral Palace and see what we can find out. If an opportunity presents itself to help Lissia without undue risk to ourselves we will take it. Otherwise, we will come back and tell you what we've learned. We don't really even owe you that much, but I am feeling generous today."
Tempus nodded as Gormin spoke, concluding that even if Bellias were telling them the truth, he must either be incredibly naive or driven to irrationality by the loss of his daughter. No hired agent would willingly surrender the Tears of the Gods if they laid hands on it—not if they are as powerful as claimed.
But Tempus kept his silence.
Yimoul-Za tilted his eye sideways. "I understand your daughter is precious, but could you not grow other seedlings? Not every sapling will grow to be a tree."
Bellias shook his head and strode away in the direction of the library. He spoke as he walked.
"The Tears are real. Those were the words Frater Neymich spoke to you in Fallside. You all saw what happened to him; Sinys and her trademark are well-known in the Steadfast. Who do you think trained her? Do you want the Rakoth to obtain the Tears?"
The library door whisked open. Bellias stood in the threshold and turned back.
"The man in the cage. Would you like to meet him?" He stepped fully into the library and the door whispered shut.
The group exchanged puzzled looks.
Some time later, the library door opened again and another man emerged from it. He also wore the orange and black robes of an Aeon Priest, but he looked old, stooped, emaciated. His arms were covered in thick rope-like burns and he spoke in a hoarse whisper.
"I was taken, like you, from a tavern near to the entrance pier. Did you perhaps accept the offer of a free drink?"
The newcomer straightened up and spoke with Bellias' voice. "Now do you understand?"
In the stunned silence, Tempus studied the reactions of the others. Bellias has revealed some sort of deception, he realized.
Gormin's face was a gathering storm. "Understand? I understand you're a dissembling sack of drit, jerking us around like puppets on a string. That's..." He stopped and seemed to get a hold of himself. "That's not necessarily a deal-breaker—I have worked with many such in my time, and I'm no angel myself. We already suspected things were not as they seemed anyway. Still... your behaviour raises more questions than it answers even now."
He took a deep breath. "But the most important question we need an answer to is, what is it you really expect us to do? I have already said we will go to the Coral Palace and have a look—as many of us as are willing—but I'm given to understand it's a large building housing hundreds of people, and I doubt they're just going to let us wander around unsupervised looking for your daughter. We don't even know for sure she's there and not in the city's mutant quarter, tenderly embraced in the three arms of her secret paramour. Or dead in an alley. Or working for the Rakoth. You believe she's captive in the Palace, but that's supposition, and by the way, this is all also assuming that you are playing straight with us, which if you are would be a first. Frankly, there's a lot we don't know. So I'm not yet ready to commit to anything more than, we'll have a look and see what we can do. A wise general knows the value of scouting and spying before committing to a plan of battle. Not that I'm a general, or even wise, but you get the idea. Which reminds me, if you have a floorplan of the Coral Palace in that library, it might be helpful."
He rubbed the hairless back of his head. "But I have to say... both of our previous two missions were based on lies and deceptions from the so-called Order of Truth from the very beginning. So, tell me: is this one also? Is Lissia even a real person, or is this another elaborate test? Are we going to come back from the Coral Palace and see Toorkmeyn standing on the platform over there smiling down beneficently at us in an orange robe and miter, congratulating us on passing another test?"
Bellias shook his head angrily. "Why do you say being asked to carry a message to Fallside was based on a lie? That is what you were asked to do, that is what you did. I had no idea that Toorkmeyn would be there, or that something had attacked the town."
He stomped back towards the upper lounge.
"You are supposed to be adventurers, seekers of excitement and fortune. You have skills and abilities. Use them. Or, is that one of your lies? You have twenty-eight hours to decide if you want to keep working for the Order."
The platform's central column's door silently slid open to admit Bellias.
Gormin frowned after him as he disappeared. "Not one for answering questions, is he? And so sensitive. He'll get over it though. Perhaps the library has the information we need, if he hasn't yet cut off our access to it."
He turned and left for the library.
Syrus spoke up. "I will do. Nothing better. Would like things prior. Help us. Electro-whip from arena. Would be nice."
Kiraz nodded. "I agree. I do not know if we will be successful in getting her out of the Coral Palace, if she is indeed there. But the least we can do is try to see what we can find out."
Tempus sighed.
***
Date: 13th Fre, in the 401st Year of the Founding
Gormin
The slowly spinning turbines of the Wind Spire loomed high to the right as the group pressed its way through the bustling marketplace of the Hub.
A familiar voice hailed Gormin—the aneen-seller.
"Ho friend, how is your aneen? Can I interest you in several brehm that I have just acquired at a good price?"
Gormin ignored him. He noted absently that many of the hawkers and vendors were selling decorations for the upcoming Festival of the Burning Moon. Hopefully I'll still be in town for that—might be fun.
The Coral Palace sprawled over most of a platform in the northwest of the city. Gormin noted with approval that the bridges and piers leading to it all had drawbridge sections that could be dropped or raised to isolate the palace. One can never be too careful.
On a balcony above the palace's heavy main doors stood two guards in ornate armour. The armour had a layer of overlapping metal plates, like fish scales, and their helmets were crested with fish-like fins. The guards carried polearms topped with large, sharpened metal rings. More decorative than functional, but probably functional enough, Gormin decided.
One of the guards called out. "State your business at the Coral Palace."
Yimoul-Za stepped forward and bowed awkwardly. "I am here to meet with Lady Isla. Please inform her that the golthiar has returned."
An odd look passed between the two guards. Gormin frowned. The one that had spoken thumped the floor of the balcony twice with the butt of his polearm. The massive metal doors swung smoothly and silently open. "Wait in the Reception Room," he called down to them.
The group entered. The lobby was a circular hall, with three passages leading away in three directions, not counting the door they'd come in. Two rows of statues, monuments, and odd relics mounted on plinths formed a central aisle in the room; paintings and tapestries lined the coral-encrusted walls. Gormin did not recognize any of the heroes depicted in the hall. As they moved into the lobby, two more ornately armoured guards with polearms flanking a shorter man dressed in a dark, formal robe emerged from a side passage.
The short man greeted them cordially. "Welcome to the Coral Palace, honoured guests, home of the Royal House of Vanlith. The Lady Isla will see you in the Reception room. Please, come this way. I am Kresich and I have the honour to be the majordomo."
Kresich the honoured majordomo chattered as he led the way through the west door and into softly lit chamber with low tables and expensive-looking sofas. There was another closed door to the west—at least Gormin thought it was the west—opposite from where they'd come in.
Gormin cast his gaze about suspiciously. This already doesn't match the floorplan in the library.
"...and be seated," Kresich was saying. "I will arrange for refreshments to be served. The Royal trading fleet travels the world; we have many exotic foods, beverages, and sweetmeats to offer. Do you have a particular preference?"
Gormin ignored him and looked up. On the ceiling was more coral and four vaguely star-shaped objects, each about an arm-length in diameter. They looked to be made of the same material as the coral. Defense mechanism?
Kiraz answered the majordomo. "If you have any krinek, that would be nice."
Syrus mumbled something or other. Tempus, not bothering to conceal his curiosity for the sake of politeness, stepped away to examine the coral more closely.
Kresich inclined his head. "We have both seared and pounded krinek. Would you like the traditional side of raw laak tails with it?"
"Yes, please," Kiraz replied.
He bowed and disappeared through the east door.
Shortly afterwards, the west door opened and a brightly smiling girl strode into the room, attended by two more guards. She had on a long, peach-colored dress held up by a coppery brooch at the right shoulder. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Yimoul-Za.
"Oh, you've come back! And you've brought some friends as well." She clapped her hands together as she surveyed the group. "I'm so pleased. Let's sit and talk. I'm Lady Isla and I look after this place. Now, tell me about yourselves; I want to hear all about the sorts of weird things you've seen."
She sat, and waved the group to sit as well. Her voice was high-pitched, child-like. Gormin gritted his teeth. He sat. Isla had a musky, not-particularly-pleasant fragrance. Perfume? The customs and fashions of the nobility are strange indeed, he thought, but said nothing.
"Greetings, Lady Isla," said Yimoul-Za. "Again we meet. I am a golthiar in possession of the light of the sun. I seek to return to the sun to revive it."
Yimoul-Za narrated their adventures then: the arena, the chronal feeders, the sudden appearance of Tempus, the Krai. Isla hung on his every word, gasping at the dangers they'd faced and beaming and clapping at their triumphs.
The krinek and laak tails arrived while Yimoul-Za was speaking. Gormin picked up a raw laak tail and dipped it into the fragrant bowl of pounded krinek. He sucked the juicy reptilian meat off the bone. "Nothing like freshly pounded krinek," he mumbled with his mouth full.
"Such lovely stories and fascinating things," Isla remarked. "I love hearing about strange things. I like collecting them, although I don’t have very many." She pouted playfully.
Yimoul-Za continued his story. When he got to the part about Fallside, Gormin put in, "We don't know if word has already reached you about the destruction of Fallside, but we thought it was important for you to know. We didn't want to cause a general panic among the masses though, so we have not publicly announced the news ourselves."
She frowned. "Fallside? I've never heard of it. Was it important?"
She looked back at Yimoul-Za and giggled. She reached out her left hand tentatively before withdrawing it shyly. "Can I touch you?"
Gormin made a valiant effort not to roll his eyes. He glanced over at the guards; they still stood stoically at the door, not visibly reacting to Isla's lack of royal decorum. He returned his attention to Yimoul-Za and Isla.
"Of course, my lady!" said Yimoul-Za. "In fact, why don't you try this? It will invigorate you." He tore out a piece of the Flame of the Klang and handed it to her.
"It's safe to eat, m'lady," mumbled Gormin. He dipped another laak tail in the pounded krinek. "What manner of strange things do you collect?"
Isla clapped her hands delightedly. "Why, I’ve got lots of things. I keep some on display; come, I’ll show you!"
She led the group through the west door; the guards followed.
The next room was another, even larger, circular chamber with multiple exits. As with every other room he'd seen of the palace, growths of weeping coral covered most of the walls.
Around the chamber were niches and alcoves carved out of the coral, each containing various oddities. The centre of the chamber was dominated by a floor to ceiling column of water, perhaps ten paces across, lit green-blue from an invisible source. The water had no obvious means of support. Inside it, seaweeds grew and half a dozen pale fish trailing long, ropy tentacles darted about. On a plinth in the water stood a statue of a nude female human, painted true-to-life, its back to the group.
Isla showed off some of the items on display.
Dangling from a brass chain descending from the ceiling was what appeared to be the severed fist of a reptilian humanoid. As the group approached, the hand whirled around and extended a finger to point at Isla.
"It points at whomever's closest," Isla explained. She pulled Yimoul-Za forward, and the hand pointed at him. Gormin noted that the hand had six fingers.
She showed off a three-sided pyramid of reflective metal, open on one side. The pyramid contained a purple sphere within it; but the sphere was much bigger than the pyramid. It hurt Gormin's brain to stare at it.
"Bigger on the inside," Isla said, as if that explained anything.
She picked up an orange and black scarab-like device and turned to Yimoul-Za. "I gave you one of these. Have you lost it? You can have this one if you like. I like giving gifts to my friends."
Yimoul-Za politely declined it.
Isla moved towards a spherical clear tank containing nothing but water. She giggled and clapped her hands. "I love this one. My sister gave it to me, last Safe Haven. It's an invisible fish. I keep looking, but I haven't seen it yet."
Gormin gently tapped the clear tank to see if it caused any reaction in the water. Nothing. "Are you close to your sisters, m'lady?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation in a more productive direction.
Isla beamed at Gormin. "My sisters love me, and I love them!" She spread her hands, taking in the room. "They've given me all of this to play with, and they give me new toys constantly."
She paused, frowning. "Daddy is different. He spends all his time with Uncle Laird, telling him what to do. He is the Royal Advisor after all."
She showed them one more oddity, a cubic black metal frame, inside of which was a fist-sized, multicolored sparkling ball, also of black metal. Isla extracted the ball and showed it to them. The ball dripped colorful sparks as it moved. She threw it on the floor; it bounced several times in random, unexpected directions, leaving a trail of short-lived color.
The ball vanished from sight.
"Don't worry; it will be back," promised Isla. She bit her lip.
After a few moments, the sparkling ball re-appeared in the box-shaped frame. Isla smiled.
"It always does that. If, one day, it didn’t come back, I think I would cry. But the ball is my friend!"
She turned to Yimoul-Za. "Now, what can you show me?"
"Well, I don't know that I have anything as marvelous," said Yimoul-Za. He withdrew the makeup case from a pocket in his robe and showed it to Isla.
"Ooh, I like this. Can I have it? I can use it for the party. I like dressing up for parties."
Gormin tuned out her enthusiastic burbling and wandered away. He saw Tempus sketching and taking notes in his journal about the various oddities in the room.
A discreet cough from the direction of the north door. A page boy in embroidered livery stood there. "My Lady. Your father wishes to speak with you in the garden."
Isla's face fell. "Oh. I was having so much fun with my new friends. Bye bye. Don’t forget to come to the party. Be here by Wane on the 22nd of Fre!" Burning Moon, Gormin knew. She left through the north door with the page. The two guards remained in the collection room. Gormin wondered what their protocol was. Must Isla have an escort at all times within the palace? Do all the guards go about in pairs?
After the guards had gone, Tempus discreetly motioned Gormin over. He nodded toward the statue within the column of water. "Notice anything?"
Gormin took a closer look. The underwater statue was quite realistic-looking: a thin, young woman with hands demurely covering her nakedness, blue eyes wide with trepidation. Her long, light brown hair streamed out to one side as if in a strong wind. Her hair did not move with the sloshing of the water, but neither was it frozen rigidly in place. Rather, it waved in slow motion. An interesting effect, but surely Tempus is not calling attention to that.
He found the overall aesthetic more unsettling than arousing. There was something about her long, thin face, too. Why does she look familiar? Is she a famous hero? He racked his brain.
He saw it then. "Bellias' daughter," he muttered. Well, that was easier than expected. He looked round. The guards were on the opposite side of the water from them, out of sight.
Tempus nodded. "I'm going to try some Hedge Magic. Stand back."
Gormin took a step away from Tempus. Tempus flicked his fingers at the column of water.
One of the fish jerked around, turning its eyeless face toward Tempus. It lashed out an impossibly long tentacle at him catching him full in the face. He hissed in pain and dropped to one knee.
Kiraz and Syrus hurried over to help Tempus. Gormin stepped further to the side and sneaked a peek at the guards. They hadn't seen the commotion. He noticed Lameth also, staring off into space, distracted.
"Lameth!" he whispered. He didn't seem to hear. Gormin approached Lameth—unhurriedly, so as not to draw undue attention—and gave him a discreet nudge of the elbow. Lameth looked at him. Gormin tapped his forehead and then pointed at the faux statue.
Lameth nodded. He looked toward Lissia, took a deep breath, and frowned in concentration.
The ropy fish suddenly became agitated, darting around the tank, evidently seeking the source of the invisible disturbance.
"She is not dead," whispered Lameth after a few seconds, "But she is not truly alive either. Her mind is empty, as if it were elsewhere."
The fish settled down. Gormin glanced at Tempus. His face was swelling up as he grimaced with the effort to not cry out. Kiraz and Syrus were putting together some kind of herbal poultice for him from a kit one of them had.
He turned back to Lameth. "Elsewhere? Not just unconscious?" He frowned. "In another body? Implanted in a numenera device? Astrally travelling? I've heard of such, but it's not my area of expertise."
Lameth shook his head slowly. "I don’t know. It's like time, for her, is moving very slowly."
Yimoul-Za joined their conspiratorial whispering. "I wonder if I could fake some kind of racial misunderstanding and break the tank."
Gormin surreptitiously scratched the side of his face, blocking the guards' view of his mouth, just in case they could read lips. "Just breaking the tank could be very dangerous, I think. Tempus looks like he's having a rough time with that poisoned sting, and those fish may be able to lash out at us even out of the water. What we need is to see if it's even possible for solid objects to pass into the tank the same way that tentacle passed out of it. If so, then we need to go find a detonation cypher—maybe from Bellias—and come back, set off the cypher in the tank, kill the fish, and pull Lissia out. This would probably need to wait until the party so that we would have cover to sneak out. If we do it now, the guards will just swarm us. But Lissia seems to be in stasis so she can wait."
Gormin picked up the sparkling ball—Isla's "friend"—and eyed it contemplatively. "What we could do, is experiment—see if it is possible to put things in the tank." He bounced the ball on the floor, trying to get a sense of how it would rebound. Deciding that the ball's bounce was in fact unpredictable, he stepped back around the tank, out of sight of the guards, backed up to what he hoped was out of tentacle range, and tossed the ball underhand at the column of water. The ball trailed bright blue, orange, and pink sparks as it arced toward the column.
It stopped at the water/air interface, hung in the air for a second, and sunk slowly to the floor. After a moment it vanished and re-appeared in its box.
"Hm." While Gormin was contemplating what to do next, Kresich re-appeared.
"My apologies. It is time for the palace to eat, and so you must leave." He bowed and gestured toward the door they'd entered.
Gormin took a crack at courtliness. "Please convey our sincerest regrets to the Lady Isla that we were not able to stay longer—indeed the gods themselves could not shed tears equal to our sorrow though chased by the Great Hunter—but that we would happily accept her gracious invitation to attend the upcoming party. We are also great admirers of the Ladies Janira and Jamira and eagerly look forward to meeting them as well."
He watched the majordomo carefully to see if he would react to the Tears of the Gods being hinted at, but he merely nodded courteously, evidently well-accustomed to guests' eccentric blandishments.
As Gormin passed by, he noticed that Kresich had the same musky odour that Isla had had.
The group passed out of Kresich's sight into the Reception Room. From somewhere deep in the palace came the sound of at least three aneen bellowing.
Lameth whispered, "I am hesitant to use my mind-speech; things in here seem to react strangely to the use of esoteries. However, I am picking up the sensation of hunger."
Gormin shrugged. "Well, Kresich did say it was meal-time."
"That's not actually what he said."
He stopped and stared at Lameth. The rest of the group stopped as well.
Syrus piped up. "It's t- time for eat the palace—for palace to eat. Palace?" He looked around.
Gormin looked around also. Viscous, pale fluid leaked from the coral encrusting the wall. The bellowing aneen sounded increasingly distressed, panicked.
"The palace?" repeated Gormin. "So, not a figure of speech? Nei cultural, crito?" He smiled faintly at his joke, but resumed moving toward the palace exit, with a quickness. The group followed.
To be continued...
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