“So, what are you interested in these days?” Cheng Qigang asked the other archivist.

“Old records. I’m getting bored with the last batch of connection maps from tiers 15 and 16 and trying to make sense of the patterns. I’ve always said it should be contracted to one of those advanced Divergences and their thinking machines. Freshly rescued Lords’ stories are so much more interesting,” Stesilaus replied.

The ancient Greek – one of the few ancient High Lords interested and recruited to the Central Panomekon Library – had put his sandaled feet on an imported desk, and was perusing old codex-bound books.

His colleague snorted in amusement.

“That’s what you get with youngsters. The hype on the commonplace. The real stories are the ones about the teams that clawed their way up until they found Panomekon on their own.”

“That hasn’t happened in over a century and a half, and you know it. Heck, your own team was found by a local team eighty years ago,” the Greek shot back.

“Only because my teammates were lazy and didn’t want to level fast!”

The Greek grimaced and his colleague immediately mollified, knowing how touchy the topic of levels was to the old Greek.

“Sorry. I know it’s hard to guess how hard Adjustment becomes if you abuse it.”

“Starting to die when you adjust sucks bulls’ balls. Getting resurrected straight into ongoing Adjustment and dying again is worse,” Stesilaus commented.

The small Chinese shrugged, before deflecting.

“So, what fun stories you have? Anything like that black Lord, who spent twelve decades solo in the Labyrinth?”

Stesilaus shook his head.

“Hard to top that one. Being alone isn’t good; the Labyrinth is made for teams, not soloers. Getting stranded alone when your Gate opens is harsh. Most of those die before they’re ever found. What happened to him anyway?”

“He and his team got lost, what, twenty years ago?” Cheng tried to remember.

“Talk about a cursed one,” Stesilaus replied.

“So, you got a good story for me?”

“Lost and stranded married couple, and we actually have no idea where their Divergence has opened. That’s rare, we have almost all of the potential base tiers reachable from Panomekon identified and checked every forty years now to figure when the Divergence Gates start forming. At least they were a duo and could support each other and progress somewhat normally, if slowly. But their description of the opening is so poetic.”

“What do you mean, poetic?”

“Most of the Gate initial openings seem miraculous. The intervention of the Gods, rather than the Labyrinth picking on your reality like a scab. It’s always fun to see how the locals experience it and describe it.”

Qigang snorted, as the Greek continued.

“Those two said it was an angel’s furnace and heavenly choir. Stuff like that reminds me of theatre, not religion, but then, I was born long before that Christ stuff started to spread.”

“Oh, European religions.”

“Hey, you’re talking about my continent, you know.”

“So what? Not my fault your continent doesn’t always open a Gate, unlike the Middle Kingdom.”

Stesilaus merely shrugged at the casual supremacism of the Chinese. They were proud of always having a Gate open somewhere in what they considered their ancestral lands, while other Gates were all spread over the place. Truth was, while not all Divergences had a European Gate, it wasn’t uncommon to have multiples. It might be in very different places, among other people he, personally, would have personally considered barbarians before his own Gate opened in Delphi, but it did happen. Once True History established a durable set of civilizations, Gates would almost always open up there.

Or you could have stuff like the rumours of the earliest Divergence, where the five Gates had all opened within two stadia of each other, all facing the same central location, next to whatever city – Susa? Something like that – was there.

“Choir?” Qigang interrupted his musings.

“Yes. They said they heard a kind of singing voice, like a chorus from some godly source. Talk about hearing voices that don’t exist.”

Stesilaus raised his head and looked at his colleague, as the man didn’t shot back in the ongoing banter. Cheng’s brow was furrowed in thought as if he was intrigued by the idea.

“There’s no voice or anything when the Gate open.”

“I know. I do remember when it opened for us. I can still hear the little pings that tell you the metal cools fast after the Gate forging. And then the real Gate surface blew up and swallowed us. But you know that’s how you get myth started. So? What gives?”

“If I’m right… you are not allowed to know.”

The Greek jumped on his feet.

“What do you mean?”

“I am sorry, Stesilaus, but there are records that are not allowed for everyone.”

“I’m not everyone. I might be half of the time sorting through Hallowskon’s branch Library, but come on.”

“No. But I cannot talk of this unless I am allowed to. I am very, very sorry. I need to go. Now.”

Anne Gide and her husband Nicolas had been happy about their foray into the depths. Running with Gonzalo Abellán’s team was a pleasure. And while none of them had gotten anything from the Brick Worm Legendary guardian, they were now within single levels from the point where they would switch Professions for their first side Profession in tier-nine. This wasn’t as exciting as getting Adjustment XIII and getting an Accolade early, but dipping back in a tier-eight was necessary, as they worked to rebalance their build back into “optimal”. At least, they’d grow quickly in levels again.

But that was for the near future. For now, they had a summons to the Library. The Central Panomekon Library was a very respected institution, politically very influential in the exotic exclusive society of the High Tiers that made the nexus its home. Its dozen or so Librarians collated geometry maps of the sheaves surrounding the nexus zone, but also regularly traded information on advanced Professions and Skills with other nexuses. And many other secrets, it was rumoured.

And now, they had asked to meet them again, four years after their arrival to the Nexus Zone.

When Gide and his wife arrived at the dedicated headquarters, they were ushered in after a very short wait. They found themselves in a large room, with ample chairs, and the inevitable tea set. They politely exchanged current descriptors, as befitting, before settling and waiting for the tea to be ready. One of the three librarians, the lowest levelled and thus presumably the junior, finally poured five careful teacups and served all the present.

“I am Cheng Qigang, senior Librarian, and I called for you because of your origins,” one started.

“My wife and I are very honoured to be there. We were steered to Panomekon only four years ago, and we are still in the debt of the gracious team that helped us.”

“Yes. It is rare to have Lords appear in the depths of the Labyrinth without knowing where they come from. And the Library always loves things that are rare or unprecedented.”

“Ah. Well, I used to be a gardener myself. Rare plants were always appreciated.”

The rest of the Librarians smiled at the strange, but pleasant comparison.

“We still haven’t found a trace of your Earth-113. It always takes time to roam the Labyrinth, but in modern times, it’s surprising to have a Divergence open without some of the high tiers finding it beforehand. Having Divergences with very few Lords is not exceptional, but hidden Divergences are that rare.”

“Our rescuer, Guthrumsson, speculated that it might be hidden between some unfound trunks. Our friend, Ahati-waqrat, found a trio of Lords stranded in a different minor sheaf a year before they found us.”

“Once you go high enough in tiers, you usually find a more direct way between any given Divergence, but trunks are often an early pathway. And so few explore downward,” the senior Librarian confirmed.

“Anyway, we are interested in trying to figure out if there are factors that might have stranded you very far from your connecting zone, so, how did you experience the Gate Opening, and where did you land…”

“So?” asked Qigang to the two other ancient librarians once the two French Lords had left.

“It sounds – if you excuse me the pun – implausible, yet strange.”

“It happened once,” the other said.

“Twice, actually,” Qigang corrected.

The two turned their gaze to him.

“There’s another record from further afar. But yes, the main report is those fools from the fifth major sheaf we have indirect contact with, beyond Hallowskon and Katerlikon. They sought their fabled Atlantis, from one of those European myths. Well, they found their way to it. And then the volcano blew up less than an hour later, and the Great Gate they had forced open to the island is now closed for use to that Divergence, sunk five hundred chi under the surface of the waters.”

“Did that opening cause…?” one asked.

“No. The explosion is from True History. It is well known, it caused the fall of the Xia and the rise of the Shang dynasty and ravaged the barbarian kingdoms around the Mediterranean. But the point stands. Lords of the Labyrinth can reshape the Labyrinth and affect not just the Labyrinth itself, but where and when it connects to across True History.”

“So your contention is that someone did it in that case.”

“And when they did it…”

“All on the other four Gates of Earth-355 heard ‘godly’ voices according to the accounts. And one linguist could finally derive that it was some scrambled mixture of Vulgar Latin words, years later. A language that didn’t exist in that Divergence, but which those Lords spoke.”

Qigong looked at his fellows.

“The echoing voices the two described would be the echoes of the will of that or those Lords pushing on the Gate as the Labyrinth connects with their Earth’s Divergence,” he said.

“But who would do that?”

“Who did the first forced opening and why? We do not know who did this one. Maybe the secret is out. Maybe, whoever it was, did it on faith, like those fools for Earth-355.”

“Or maybe you are all worriers.”

“Nobody wants a repeat of the Fortress Zones stupidity in the Gamma sheaf,” Qigang replied.

“It’s been contained. None of those mad ones involved in switching those Gate connections has been sighted for decades, and they cannot grow much locked in there if that’s where they still are. And it’s not the same thing, anyway.”

“No, but any Lord messing with the infrastructure of the Labyrinth can have involuntary catastrophic results as the links reassert themselves. That, at much, the culprit probably knew. It’s been drilled in every Lord. Do not use your Adjustment as a cause for Labyrinth instabilities.”

“You also have the so-called Null Gate.”

“Do you believe that fable of a Gate connected to nothing, even if they’re always in even numbers? It’s four nexuses distant, and half of the stories that come from there seems stupid anyway. Like Native Parasites on Mars? I can understand going to a distant world, but…”

The other librarian, who had remained silent during the exchange, finally spread his hands, attracting immediately the attention of his colleagues.

“You do realize that, if that’s anything like the reports that you’ve collated and hidden, Qigang, all the assumptions that were made about the location of Earth-113 are wrong. It’s not some proto-Gate area that has been missed for eighty years or more in a secluded sheaf. It can be any known place that didn’t have one until just twenty years ago. If a High-Adjustment Lord injected its vitals into a proto-Gate to brute-force it open, it could be made to do so in months rather than two-thirds of a century as usual.”

“You mean a general re-sweep?”

“Of every minor sheaf identified that didn’t have a connection to True History when last visited. And we need to find out a convincing reason to do so, without anyone knowing exactly why the High Lords suddenly want to re-explore areas decades early.”

Qigang’s face scrunched in distaste.

“And I presume I have to make the case to the Panomekon Council.”

Cheng Lingxin smiled in response.

“I think they’ll agree. Someone who gets away with that kind of action may be tempted to repeat it somewhere else. Even if he cannot be used as an example for others, better be safe than sorry.”