Announcement

This is the last chapter before I take a week off for the holidays. Chapters will resume the following week.

Rufus arrived at Arella’s office and knew she wasn’t there when the door didn’t swing itself open at his approach. He knocked and it was opened by the deputy director. Rufus had few dealings with the elderly elf, Genevieve. He had heard she was the one person Arella completely trusted, but he’d heard a lot about the director that turned out to be false.

“Something I can help you with, Mr Remore?” she asked.

“I was looking for the director.”

“She was called away on important business. Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

“Not unless you can introduce me to her father and help convince him to assist me.”

“Oh, I can probably manage that,” she said, to Rufus’ visible surprise. “I’m a little busy to go along, but find your way to his home and I’ll have someone waiting for you.”

In a one-room ritual building on the Geller estate grounds, a portal opened. Jonah Geller stumbled through, as if shoved, followed by the bronze-rank Ernest Geller. The portal closed behind them. The ritual room had been marked off-limits for weeks, with no household staff allowed to enter. Only Rick Geller had been trusted by Danielle to keep watch, having supplied him with a comfortable chair and a stack of books on a side table.

Rick put his book down and stood up at the appearance of the others, gaze fixed on Jonah. He looked for anything in the big man’s expression he recognised but it was like looking at a different man. Like someone else was wearing his friend's face.

“You have no right to do this,” Jonah said to Ernest, ignoring Rick’s presence.

“So you keep saying,” Ernest said, voice and body language both equally unyielding. “You will stay here until we’re done with you.”

“Jonah,” Rick said. Jonah turned, looking at Rick as if he were no more connected to him than the chair Rick had been sitting in.

“Please just tell me what happened to you,” Rick implored. “You know I’ll do whatever I can to help. The way you’ve done for me, more than once.”

“Then get me out of here,” Jonah said. “They want to cut me open.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Ernest said. “He’ll say anything to make us let him go.”

Jonah threw a look of bile at Ernest.

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

“You’re right,” Ernest said. “That’s the whole reason we’re here. Rick, you were here to announce our arrival to Danielle, yes?”

“That’s right.”

“Double check the locks before you go,” Ernest said. “Make sure they’re all locked from the outside.”

The Geller family compound had been heavily landscaped to be on solid, secure ground. The meandering creeks, picturesque garden ponds and even the small lake might seem like natural waterways but had been artfully and carefully designed centuries ago. There was a section of river that had been diverted into what looked like a natural stretch of river but was actually a canal that diverted it through the estate before returning to its original course. Between construction and growing-in the gardens, it had been the work of generations to get the estate to the impressive and natural-seeming state it was currently in.

Clive was aware of all this, the Geller family having detailed the process and donated copies of the records to the Magic Society. Only the numerous security features, developed and improved upon over centuries had been withheld. As he drove an airboat through the delta, he loudly explained it to Belinda, who was sitting behind Clive’s rune tortoise familiar, Onslow. It was an unusual experience for Clive to have someone share his interest in magical esoterica.

Clive steered the airboat up to the estate’s water gate and coasted to a stop. The archway that framed the gate was smaller than the one in the Greenstone city wall, but the portcullised arch was still imposing. This was especially true as the Geller portcullis was usually closed, unlike the city gate, which placed the imposing metal grill on full display.

The guards on station, on a small stone dock with a booth, came out to question Clive. As he was expected, they swiftly allowed him to continue, magically raising the portcullis to admit his airboat onto the estate. Belinda gaped as they passed through the stone arch.

Shortly beyond the wall was a larger stone dock nestled into the embankment, where the Gellers stored their inland watercraft. There was an attendant in another bamboo booth who waved them into an empty slip and tied off the vehicle. Once they were on shore, the man took their details in a small notebook and gave them directions.

As much as they would have liked to explore, Clive and Belinda had come with an important purpose and stuck to the main paths. Using the sedate pace of Clive’s familiar as an excuse, though, they did have the time to at least look around. Clive occasionally glanced back to check on his familiar, who kept stopping to snack on the shrubbery.

“Onslow, stop that! We are guests, here!”

They followed the directions they had been given along the main pathway, which constantly tempted with detours. They finally arrived at the main house complex to find an august company outside, even by Geller family standards.

Talking together were Emir Bahadir, Thalia Mercer, Elspeth Arella and the stern-faced head of the Adventure Society inquiry team. With them was a priest of the god of purity, who looked older than most but was clean-faced and seemed very hale. Clive wasn’t conversant in the robe designs of the church of purity but the elaborate outfit implied considerable rank almost as much as the company he kept. Danielle Geller was with them, playing host. As Clive stood off, giving quiet introductions to Belinda, Emir spotted them and quietly pointed them out to Danielle. She walked over to greet them.

“You must be Humphrey’s Magic Society friend, Clive. I hear good things.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. This is my assistant, Belinda.”

Danielle gave her an appraising look.

“I take it you find helping Clive a less antagonistic pursuit than running around robbing people,” Danielle said.

“It was my friend who did the running,” Belinda said. “As for antagonism, a few cash-heavy theatre-goers hardly compare to an army of weaponised magical constructs.”

Danielle chuckled.

"A well-made point. So, Clive, you’re our resident astral magic specialist?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I was surprised you were ready this fast.”

“We’ve been working hard,” Clive said, including Belinda with a glance. “This is important. It’s a lot of responsibility.”

“Indeed it is,” Danielle said. “Exciting times are dangerous ones. We have something I can’t talk about right now going on, so you’ll have to forgive my not attending to you personally. I’ll have one of my family members give you access to the mirage chamber.”

“Thank you,” Clive said.

“I’ve completely cleared the schedule for the mirage chamber; it’s yours for the day. If you need more time, just tell us and I’ll see you get it. Did you bring everything you need?”

“Yes,” Clive said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Our preparations were quite thorough,” Clive said.

“Good. I’ll find young Rick to show you the way; he’s wandering about here, somewhere. Have you met Rick, Clive?”

“I have, Lady Geller. At the picnic in the park, after the sand barge assault.”

“Of course. Jason can be something of an explosive factor, socially speaking, but when it comes to throwing a truly casual affair, he comes into his own. Rick is reliable and trustworthy. He doesn’t know what’s going on here, yet, but I would appreciate you not asking, anyway. He has a personal stake in ongoing events.”

“Of course,” Clive said. “Does he have the might essence, by any chance? Or earth, iron; anything that gives him a strength power.”

“He has the might essence,” Danielle said. “Do you need some heavy lifting done?”

“Yes,” Clive said. “I’ve looked over the design of your mirage chamber and it has the old stone-slab control configuration. It’s no doubt why it held up so well over so long but I’ll need to take the top off make some required upgrades.”

“You want to upgrade our mirage chamber?”

“It’s quite necessary for what I need to do with it,” Clive said.

“Do you have the expertise to carry that out?” Danielle asked.

Clive looked at her, nonplussed.

“It doesn’t take any real expertise.”

“My people have assured me that any upgrade would very much require both expertise and some prohibitive material costs.”

“I suppose it comes down to what you think constitutes expertise,” Clive said. “I can see how it could be expensive if you did it wrong. As in, very wrong. I won’t. I checked the requisite materials out of the Magic Society storehouse and charged everything to the Adventure Society. It was cheap enough that it fell within my discretionary budget. All the expensive materials in a mirage chamber are in the dome, which I don’t need to touch. It should take me less than a couple of hours.”

“Have you worked on a mirage chamber before?” Danielle asked.

“I assisted in the complete rebuilds of the mirage chambers in Boko and Hornis and still do annual maintenance. The original construction wasn’t as lasting as your stone setup.”

“Boko and Hornis have their own Magic Society people,” Danielle said.

“Yes,” Clive said.

“And they call you in anyway?”

“Yes.”

Danielle gave Clive an assessing look.

“You’re one of those people, aren’t you?” she asked. “The ones who are just very quietly exceptional at what they do.”

“I don’t know I’d say that,” Clive said, scratched his head awkwardly.

“You’re kind of the opposite of Jason. He’s full of potential but runs around causing huge messes because he’s headstrong and inexperienced. You’re forming a team with my son, right?”

“We’ve never really discussed it.”

“Well, now you don’t need to,” Danielle said. “I’m going to have you looked into and if everything checks out, you’ll be part of my boy’s team.”

“I don’t think you get to decide that,” Clive said uncertainly. “We get to form our own teams.”

“Don’t be silly,” Danielle said. “Of course I get to decide that. Now, wait here while I go find Rick.”

Clive looked nonplussed at the retreating figure of Danielle as she went into the house.

“That felt oddly like talking to Jason, there at the end,” he mused.

Sophie was feeling good after her third monster encounter. It had been a group of ratlings pillaging a farming crop. While not exactly humanoid, they were close, and she fought them on flat, open ground. At first, they had swarmed her but their opportunistic aggression lacked cohesion. Her swiftness and agility let her avoid being encircled, catch one exposed and make short work of it. Cowardly by nature, the others scattered. They were only quick compared to someone other than Sophie, who chased them down one by one.

That only left the contract from the jobs hall, but en route, they passed through a village where they were approached by a harried teamster. He recognised them as adventurers from their equipment and informed them of a trap weaver nest close to a major trading road.

“Trap weavers?” Sophie asked.

“Nasty, spider-like monsters,” Humphrey said. “Dangerous and unfortunately common in the delta. We should clear them out now.”

“Yep,” Jason agreed. “I’ll do it.”

“You aren’t exactly in the best shape today,” Humphrey said.

“The fight doesn’t wait until you’re ready, Humphrey. A little impairment training will do me good.”

“Can I do it?” Sophie asked.

“No,” Jason and Humphrey said together.

"You think he can do it," Sophie said, "and he's hungover. He's not that much better than me."

“Yes, he is,” Humphrey said. “You haven’t seen him fight.”

“I’ve fought him myself,” she said.

“No,” Humphrey said. “You’ve sparred with him. Run from him. You haven’t fought him. Jason is very good at killing and very bad at leaving things alive. If he’d wanted you dead, you would have been dead.”

“Yeah?” she asked, sceptically. “I want to see this, then.”

“That’s the thing,” Humphrey said. "You don't see him unless something very bad is about to happen. I’ll show you a recording when we get back to the city.”

“Don’t show her that,” Jason said. “It shows me at peak chuuni.”

“Chuuni?” Sophie asked.

“We’re pretty sure anything that slips through Jason’s translation power is him being difficult,” Humphrey advised her. “We’ve found it’s best to let it go and not ask.”

“Who’s ‘we?’” Jason asked.

Rufus arrived at the entrance to Dorgan's compound via magically-propelled carriage. Rather than reins, the driver steered with a bar that turned the front wheels as it was shifted left and right. Speed was controlled with a lever next to the driver's seat. Such vehicles weren't any faster than animal-drawn carriages but saved having to deal with the animals.

Rufus got down and walked up to the large gate in the outer wall. The estate had once been the main residence of a powerful Greenstone family and was suitably impressive, with grounds that were outrageously indulgent in the crowded space of Old City.

There was a well-dressed elf in a small security station built into the wall. Rufus could sense an iron-rank aura from him, the uncontrolled and muddy kind that spoke to an excess of magic cores and a deficit of training. The elf came out to open the gate and let him in.

On the other side of the gate was another elf servant, who had been awaiting his arrival and guided him inside. As they went through the grounds, Rufus could see that the grandeur of the compound had not been allowed to fade after the original occupants vacated it for the Island. The gardens were painstakingly maintained, the centuries-old brickwork still in fine condition.

The servant led Rufus to one of the wide wings of the manor and into a library. He showed Rufus to a portion of the library where an elf was standing in front of a desert landscape. Adris Dorgan had tawny skin and long, chestnut hair. He was every part the classic slender, handsome elf. Without turning his gaze from the painting he dismissed the servant with thanks.

“Do you like this painting, Mr Remore?” Dorgan asked.

Rufus considered the work.

“The artist was more concerned with evocation than accurate representation. It lends itself to the stark desert environment. It’s clear that the artist finds meaning in the desolation. A local artist?”

“Moher,” Dorgan said. “From the day I found your friend Asano standing right here, things have been going poorly for my daughter.”

"She kept her position," Rufus said. "She wouldn't have if certain people had their way. Luckily for her, Jason had no say in the matter.”

“His unfortunate demotion,” Dorgan said. “Association with my daughter was behind that, I imagine.”

“He did his job and he did it well,” Rufus said. “All she had to do was let him.”

“I told her much the same. Patience is a lesson often hard-learned. I have tried to guide her away from considering him part of her troubles but his position as the starting point of things going wrong plays on her mind.”

“She would be well-served by keeping her attention on what comes next,” Rufus said. “Events loom large and she has bridges to mend.”

“Is that why you’re here, Mr Remore? To mend bridges?”

“No,” Rufus said. “I’m here for those large-looming events. There is a chance someone has been smuggling some unusual materials through here or Hornis. If you help me track those down, it would reflect well on your daughter. Show the association that you are an asset to her and not an anchor. I would be willing to reflect that in my attitude on the topic, which is not without weight in certain circles.”

“Even after she turned on your friend?”

“She only tried to hurt his interests, not him,” Rufus said. “Where I come from, politics are a fact of life. Since she is going to continue as director, my preference would be that’s she’s an effective one. Her plan is still in play, if she wants it to be.”

“What plan is that?” Dorgan asked.

“To get promoted out of this town by cleaning it up. An appropriate show of contrition and using the inquiry as a launching pad will at least give her a chance. The city service agreement is two years from renegotiation. Two years is a long time in politics.”

“So it is,” Dorgan mused. “If I agree to help you, I can’t just wave my hand and produce all the city’s smugglers. I can use my connections, here and in Hornis, but there are complications. Clarissa Ventress and Cole Silva control no small portion of the less documented aspects of city trade. And there are some operators whom none of us tolerate and who are forced to work around us. There are things even the worst of us will not allow to be traded.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Rufus said.

“Mr Remore, I am more government official than criminal. The powers ruling the Island would let Old City fall into chaos so long as the money flows. I’ll acknowledge that I have walked hard roads, but I have my standards.”

“What about the other two? Ventress and Silva.”

“Ventress knows her limits, or at least she used to. If anyone is working with those I won't tolerate, it will be Cole Silva. He’s impulsive, short-sighted and repulsive enough to traffic with those his father would have hunted down.”

“I’d pay him a visit,” Rufus said, “but that would send the ones I’m after scurrying into the shadows.”

“I will make some circumspect inquiries,” Dorgan said. “I will expect your support for my daughter, in turn.”

“Your daughter’s best move is to do her job right, in the open, where people can see her do it. I’d be happy to help that along.”

“Very well,” Dorgan said. “You have secured my help, Mr Remore. I will find you when I have something.”