TenThousandBrokenDreams/Session27

Mother Cypress speaks:

“Welcome, my little night-birds. What brings you here upon your little black wings? Have you come for a tale? Yes… so I shall tell you a tale, my little birds. Settle down, yes, yes… what tale shall I tell tonight? Shall I tell you the tale of how the gods railed against the oppression of the Primordials; and of how, when the Primordials refused their petition, they sent the god Rua to carry their case to Cytherea, the Mother of Creation? Would you learn of how Rua fulfilled that doom, nevermore to be seen again, and what resulted from his sacrifice? Or shall I tell you more of the tale of the Sun’s bright children, and of the doom of the Second Age?

“Then come closer, my children. Gather round, and spread ears like elephants, and I shall tell you more of the tale of those bright, shining heroes, and how they confronted the demon Amalion within her lair.”

* * * * *

Boots clicked on wet stone. Clouds scudded wetly across the sea of stars. Our heroes approached the dark silhouette of Amalion.

They halted upon her broad, shallow stair. Her doors loomed above. Li of Orchid turned her face up to the misty drizzle that wafted down from the firmament; Thorwald sniffed at the cold wind.

“Li,” said Aekino, and, “Zera. Might I speak with you a moment?”

“Certainly,” they said, and, “Sure. What’s up?” They stepped aside to confer, with their comrades’ stares pressing hard upon their backs.

“We have some cause to hope,” said the Dynast to his companions, “that Amalion remains sympathetic to Creation. But we also have cause to fear that she will hold a grudge against Thorwald and myself for what happened between us in our former incarnations. She may try to harm us, or keep us captive. And there is no way of telling what she’ll do with Fetek.”

The others nodded, so Aekino continued: “If we are imprisoned, there’s no use in your being captured as well. Instead, I want you to go to the Tower of Winds. See what you can do from there.”

“I will.” Li inclined her head in acknowledgement.

Zera sighed heavily. “I will agree,” he said. “But I don’t like the idea of leaving you three alone.”

“I don’t like it either,” the Dynast replied. “But I want you two to stick together.”

The swordswoman nodded. “We will. But for now, we have pressing business within.”

They turned back to their brethren. Fetek eyed the Twilight coldly, his arms crossed over his chest. “And what have you decided?”

Aekino blinked ingenuously. “What decision is that?”

“Come off it, Aekino,” grated the young Lunar. “I am not a child.”

Zera Thisse stepped forward, smiling. “We were simply discussing some contingencies in case we run into problems,” he said smoothly. “In case we get tangled up in an old passion play.”

“And you saw the need to conceal it from me.”

“Oh, as to that,” said Aekino, “if I sought to conceal a conversation from you, I would not have held it right in front of you.”

“Then perhaps it was a purposeful insult,” Fetek stated.

“My brothers,” said Li. She gazed up at the convoluted spires, the elaborate façade of basalt and brass that rose before them. “Let us concern ourselves with what matters.”

She resumed her climb up the wet black steps. Her brothers walked at her side.

* * * * *

The massive stone doors stood ajar, dripping with dark water. Thorwald pulled them wide. Within, they entered a cavernous space, a vastly echoing hall where black columns supported a distant vaulted ceiling. High windows glimmered with starlight; shadows fluttered between them, and the place echoed faintly with the beating of wings.

A sliver of white light gleamed in the distance. They approached it. Stark shadows crossed their path as they past row after row of columns. The sliver grew into a wide passage, floor to ceiling, set within the far wall.

The white light fractured into rainbows. The nave of the cathedral Amalion spread itself before them in a glory of jeweled light. A hundred massive lamps of colored glass shone with hues of ruby, topaz, amethyst and sapphire; shafts of green radiance spilled from tall windows on either side, illuminating row upon row of benches where scattered figures knelt at prayer. Some were human, some inhuman, and others muffled beyond identification.

Countless doors and archways pierced the walls of the titanic chamber. Between them, figures worshipped at candle-strewn altars, where threads of incense smoke rose upward to join a roiling gray cloud that hid the ceiling. They walked back and forth, mostly ignoring each other, at their own mysterious errands.

At the far end of the nave, steps rose in glittering lines of obsidian and brass to the chancel. Towering stone icons of a veiled, motherly figure raised their hands in benediction over a black stone altar. Fumes of sandalwood and myrrh drifted up to the smoky canopy above. Neither priest nor acolyte stood there, nor did the congregation approach that dark altar.

The Circle looked about in discomfited awe. Thorwald shook it off first. He approached an older woman who knelt at a pew. “Where is Amalion?” he demanded.

The woman gazed back, wide-eyed. “She is all around us,” she said vaguely.

The Northman shook his head. He stalked forward along the central aisle. “Amalion!” he roared. “Where are you? Don’t think you can hide from me. Show yourself!”

His words echoed through the vastness of the space, rolling off the walls and resounding off the hidden ceiling. Dozens of distant figures turned to stare. And as his voice echoed into the heights, it shifted, grew high and clear. “Show yourself,” it giggled overhead, soft and warm and feminine. “Show yourself.”

Thorwald gnashed his teeth. He strode up the aisle, past blazing prismatic lamps and columns of basalt, and climbed glistening steps to the chancel. There, he drew his pear-blossom daiklave and pounded its hilt upon the altar.

“Amalion!” he shouted. (Boom! Boom! went the echoes of jade on stone.) “We have come for you! You cannot hide forever. Let us in, or I shall tear this place apart, stone by stone!”

His gaze fell upon an open door to the left of the altar. He felt certain that it had not been there a moment ago, when last his eyes had chanced that way. He smiled. “That’s more like it,” he said, and led the way.

They trooped through the door, one after another, into a narrow corridor of featureless basalt. The way jogged to the right; green light gleamed ahead.

They emerged onto a balustraded gallery floored with pale pink marble. It encircled a hollow shaft thirty yards across, where rays of green light fell from somewhere above. Sculpture-filled niches and stylized sofas flanked doors and archways that led to unknown rooms; curving stairways climbed up and down the walls of the shaft to other galleries.

A muted silence lingered. Dust swirled emerald in the falling light. With a shrug, Thorwald led the way up a stair to another gallery, much the same as the first. A beaded curtain rustled; he passed through.

They entered a sitting room rich with violet wallpaper with teakwood trim, illuminated by glass lamps of blue and green. Elegant wooden chairs, upholstered in silk, gathered around a table spread with wine cups and jars of intoxicant powders.

A pleasant-looking middle-aged woman sat across the table. She wore a robe of lavender silk; a strange silken half-mask covered the lower half of her face. She tilted her head, and a starry window framed her profile.

“Welcome,” she said in a warm voice. “Please, come in. Make yourselves comfortable.” From the crinkle at the corner of her eyes, she seemed to be smiling; but her mouth could not be seen.

This was Amalion.

* * * * *

Aekino, Fetek and Zera seated themselves; Thorwald and Li stubbornly stood, refusing to accept demonic hospitality. The demon queen clapped her hands, and a figure wholly muffled in lavender cloth brought a tray laden with fine porcelain cups and a steaming pot of tea. Aekino graciously accepted a cup. He sipped.

“It is pleasant to see you all again,” said the demon queen. “I have not seen you for perhaps five hundred years,” she said to Zera Thisse, “and the rest of you, I have not seen for over a thousand. It has been too long.” As she said this, her eyes lingered on Fetek; shyly, he looked away. “It is good of you to come.”

“Indeed,” said Aekino. “I fear that we have much to discuss.”

“Ah.” She paused. “I see that you have much on your mind, Sharn Larenn - ”

“My name is Tepet Aekino now,” the Dynast admonished.

Amalion nodded. “Of course. I do not mean to offend. Perhaps you might introduce the rest of your companions, by such names as they now hold?”

So Aekino made introductions, and the demoness politely acknowledged each of her guests, with Fetek receiving the greatest attention. Aekino maintained a steady stream of small talk, supported occasionally by Zera Thisse. Fetek sat uncomfortably, Thorwald glowered, and Li remained inscrutable.

“Now we must discuss the matter of your presence here.” The Dynast set down his cup with a click.

“Certainly,” the demoness replied. Again, she seemed to smile beneath her half-mask. “But surely you will first avail yourself of my hospitality? A bath, fresh garments, a warm meal; these things will refresh you. Then we may speak of more weighty matters.”

“I will be glad to accept your offer,” he replied with a grin. “After all, I never trust anyone better dressed than myself.”

Standing, Aekino passed through a door indicated by his host, entering a hall with five doors, each of which bore a plaque graven with the name of a member of his Circle. He entered the room bearing his own name, where he found a large, luxurious room equipped with a feather bed, a steaming sunken bath, and a wardrobe brimming with garments of velvet, satin and silk. Stripping away his soiled garments, he sank into the hot water with a sigh.

* * * * *

Shortly thereafter, Zera and Fetek excused themselves from the parlor and found their own rooms, which, while less extravagant than the Dynast’s, were pleasant nonetheless. This left Thorwald and Li alone with Amalion.

The demoness watched them carefully as she sipped tea through a hollow reed. Setting down her cup, she asked, “Do you feel ill at ease?”

“No,” grunted the Northman. Li remained silent.

Amalion sighed. “Your silence makes me uncomfortable,” she observed. “Were it not ungracious of me, I might even be offended.”

Thorwald shook his head. “I am here, Amalion,” he replied. “That is more than I ever thought that I would give.” After a pause, he continued, “I know you, I think. But I do not understand how, or why.”

“I see that you are new to this. If you wish, I can tell you something of what you are; of who you were.”

“You know that I will be wary of what you say.”

Her eyes crinkled with humor. “Suit yourself,” she replied. She leaned back in her chair, her hands loosely folded in her lap. For all that she was a demon, she looked as human as they, and this discomfited them.

“There are few like the Exalted,” she began, “in all of Creation. You merge a higher power with base matter, flesh with spirit. You resemble us more than almost any other creature in this world. Perhaps that is part of why the Great Betrayal stung as much as it did. But I suppose that is beside the point.”

“What point?” demanded the Zenith.

She smiled. “You have two higher souls,” she said. “A mortal soul, and a divine one – a fragment of your god, a shard of celestial potency. This shard, this second soul, has been around for a long time. It has been many people; it has lived many lives.”

Thorwald grunted. “Ambrani Rao.”

“Yes. Once, you were Ambrani Rao. Leader of the Solar Deliberative; foremost among your kind.” She regarded the Solar thoughtfully. “I did not know him well. But I do recognize his nature: Judgmental. Stubborn. Inflexible. Much like your own, for the shards seek to merge with kindred souls. You are not he, but you are as he was; you would not have been chosen otherwise.”

“I find all this difficult to accept. I am Thorwald.”

“You are also Ambrani Rao.”

“How can this be?” he demanded stubbornly.

She shrugged. “Self-knowledge is not necessary to one’s being. What has happened is the way of your kind. Like finds like. The shard that once possessed Ambrani Rao sought a host, one that fitted its nature and need. It found you; and it was satisfied.”

“I tell you this. I do not think well of your kind, or mine.”

“I have heard you say something similar in another life.” Amalion sighed. “I am not surprised.”

Thorwald seemed unimpressed. “So you say.”

“There are others who can tell you the same. A few of your kind have survived the long centuries since your fall. They have scattered to the corners of creation, but they are there. I know of three of them; there may be more. But they are few. I am surprised to see so many of you here. All of the rest have been caught, trapped; removed from the cycle of reincarnation.”

This, at last, spurred Li to speak. “How is this possible?”

The demon queen made an ambiguous gesture. “There were devices, vessels, crafted to hold the divine souls. Over the years, most of your kind have been bound in this way. Only a vanishing few continue on to be reborn.”

“So we are not the first to come back.”

“Certainly not!” Amalion exhibited surprise at the question. “Your kind are always reborn after death. Your celestial soul finds a new body, a new host, and you return to the world, as you have; as a being both young and old, both inexperienced and eternal. You are so different when you are young, so full of hopes and dreams.” She breathed deeply. “And then you change. The power is always too great. It is sad. But what can you do? And after all, perhaps this time, things will be different. Your kind does the impossible often enough.”

* * * * *

Fetek crouched upon the edge of the bed. His fists knotted together; his elbows dug into his knees. He paid no heed to the riches around him, for all his thoughts turned inward, toward the future and the past.

He looked up as Zera slipped softly into the room. The archer had discarded the old clothing he’d picked up in Brinlack, and wore instead a fashionable suit of green silk and brown leather, coupled with the finest boots that either of them had ever seen. Zera pulled up a chair. “You’re going to have to come out sometime.”

It took the Lunar some time to compose his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice cracked. “I don’t know why we’re trying to make her leave.”

“We don’t know for sure that we’ll go that route,” Zera replied soothingly. “We’ll see.”

“She could be a great help in consolidating a power base,” Fetek persisted. “She can raise Manses with a wave of her hand.”

“Thorwald and Li aren’t likely to agree.”

Fetek shook his head eagerly. “I can convince Li.”

“We don’t even know her motives.”

“I remember her,” the Lunar youth replied, as if that explained everything.

“Memory is a funny thing.” Zera smiled. “We remember what we wish to remember.”

Time passed. There was a strange hollowness to the silence. The sheets smelled of violets.

“I think I love her,” said Fetek.

Zera nodded. His eyes were understanding. “I have been possessed of the same condition. I think I saw this coming.”

“I think I’ve always loved her.”

“Love is what it is. But if you do love her, make sure you love her for what she is.”

“She is a potential advantage for us,” Fetek said, returning doggedly to his thesis. “The Circle has spent far too much time throwing away advantages.”

“It’s what we do,” replied Zera cynically.

“Then perhaps it’s time to stop.”

Zera sighed deeply. “All right. Let’s assume that, by some miracle, the other three come around. What then?”

“I am sure that she will give over her power over the city,” the Lunar youth replied. “She has no interest in it.”

“If she has no ambition, then we might let her stay. But beings who possess immense power tend to want to use it.”

“She will use it for us,” Fetek insisted. “It is her nature to create, not to destroy.”

Zera’s lip twisted. “Who says that we’re fit to use her power? All we do is destroy.”

“She will provide balance to that part of our nature. It is your destiny to rule, Iron Wolf.”

“It was my destiny to die near Thorns,” Zera replied. He shrugged at the notion. “Most of what you’ve said is what you hope, not what you think.”

Zera smiled then, and rose from his seat. He clapped Fetek companionably on the shoulder. “Put something nice on,” he said. “Let’s go outside.”

* * * * *

Tepet Aekino emerged first from the guest suites. He glittered in gold-embroidered robes of saffron, rose and cobalt blue.

“Were the accommodations to your liking?” inquired the demoness.

He nodded. “They were exquisite. All that I now require is tea and conversation.”

“Certainly.” She clapped her hands, and another lavender-swathed servant arrived with a fresh pot of tea. As it departed, Amalion added, “We were just discussing the nature of identity.”

The Twilight blew upon his steaming tea. “I am not surprised; that has been a matter of some interest of late.”

“Your friend Thorwald has many firm opinions on the subject.”

Aekino smiled. “Yes. He is a bastion of strength amid our differing natures.”

“And your friend Li is most closed-mouthed.”

“Indeed?” The Dynast eyed the swordswoman with mock disapproval. “You were silent the whole time?”

Li shrugged. “It is not my nature to say overmuch.”

“You are given to understatement,” Aekino replied affectionately.

“And what,” asked the demoness, “are your thoughts?”

“On what subject?”

“Why, whatever you please.”

“I have no memory of Creation before my time,” he lied. “I am concerned solely with the state of Creation as it now stands.”

“No one is ever truly satisfied with the current state of affairs,” she replied with some amusement.

“This is indeed true, on balance. But my concerns lie more with the negative.”

Amalion gave an exaggerated sigh. “You mince words, Tepet Aekino. You are too subtle; or perhaps this old mind grows weary.”

“As you would,” he replied. “There are many things I would change.”

“And I am sure that there are many things you would wish to stay the same. What is it that you would change?”

Aekino shrugged. “Opinion means nothing without the power to make it real.”

Zera arrived then, and Fetek with him; and Amalion’s eyes smiled. “Well then,” she said. “Shall we go down to dinner?”

* * * * *

The demoness led them through another door, beyond which lay a broad, low hall carpeted in darkest red, where paintings and murals hung upon walls paneled in mahogany. As they followed the winding hall and descended a flight of shallow stairs, the Circle marveled at depictions of cities and coastlines that struck chords of memory deep within. Meru’s shining towers glittered upon the brow of the Imperial Mountain in a drift of golden airships; reptilian figures stalked through sunlight and shadow amidst thick green foliage; with blades of ice and flame, Katsuro the Righteous dueled a prince of the Fair Folk upon a rocky, twisted shore.

They passed a great mural then, where an army of Exalts and mortals battled countless demons beneath a writhing sky. Ambrani Rao raised his diamond spear in the thick of the fray; his hair was dark and his face unlined, in that battle at the beginning of days. And beyond the battle lay a door; and beyond that door, an elegant dining room.

Our heroes settled themselves at the table. Thorwald and Li experienced some difficulty, as the massive blades they bore upon their backs made it difficult to seat themselves comfortably. Aekino sat at the queen’s right hand, to most easily speak with her; Fetek sat at her left hand, and she glanced that way often.

Doors disgorged a number of lavender-swathed servitors, who brought forth trays of steaming bread and bowls of a crab and rose-petal soup. Tepet Aekino complimented the hostess on the quality of the food, and began a steady stream of small talk to fill what might otherwise have been an awkward gathering, for while Zera occasionally interjected a comment, Fetek seemed too embarrassed to speak, whilst Thorwald and Li maintained a stony silence.

* * * * *

When the last bite of sugared quince had been eaten, when the last plate had been removed, Amalion led our heroes out of the dining room. The route they followed wound down a narrow stair, then passed a glass wall beyond which strange plants grew in a courtyard full of green light. Beyond that, they entered the sitting room once again… through the same door they had entered through the first time, a door that should have let in from a completely different place. And they had gone downstairs in both directions. Thorwald scowled, a chill running down his spine. This was unnatural.

They sat. “So,” said the demon queen. “What is it that I can do for you?” She gestured to the table. “Would you care for tea, perhaps? Candied dates?”

Aekino pursed his lips. Where would he begin? Finally he said, “How did you feel, when you heard the call from Creation?”

“It is nice to have additional perspective.” Was she smiling? “I have already been in Creation for some time. But I heard rumors… that some of the Celestial Exalted had returned to the world, to the East. It seemed likely that some might be old friends.” She leaned back, and her wicker chair creaked comfortably. “I like to stretch myself. It’s pleasant. The yellow sun, blue sky, fixed stars… I already experience them, but… it’s really very hard to translate into your understanding. I enjoy being here. The existence of my kind is somewhat cramped.”

Zera leaned forward intently. “Are you stretched to your liking, or do you think you may need to stretch some more?”

“Oh, I don’t need to. I’m capable of quite a lot.” Her voice took a sardonic turn. “Including self-control.”

“Well, where I’m from, we’re simple, direct folk, so let me get to the point. Do you have anything to do with the Darien woman?”

“Gisla?” She cocked her head. “I don’t know much about her. She’s not one of mine. She has been touched by another of my kind; one somewhat less congenial than myself.”

“Well, we’ve taken it upon ourselves to deal with some of the less congenial ones.” Zera smirked. “Just so you understand us.”

“Perfectly.”

“Are you aware that some of the humans left in this city are worshipping you?”

She nodded. “Yes, of course. It’s quite satisfying. Even refreshing.”

The archer frowned. “Then you’re aware of the things they are doing in your name?”

“Certainly.” She eyed the disapproving faces around her. “Let me try and phrase this in a way you may understand. Have you ever had a pet, Zera Thisse?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Well then. When you have, say, a cat… while it is in your house, you can keep an eye on it, and keep it out of trouble. But when the cat leaves your house, where it can wander as it will and do as it will, then beyond a certain point, keeping watch on the cat becomes more trouble than it is worth. You become the servant to the cat.”

Zera’s eyes narrowed. “If we’re going to use that metaphor… once, a neighbor of ours had a dog that went rabid. We killed it.”

“Well, of course!” Amalion nodded. “That only makes sense.”

“Really.” Zera frowned, nonplussed.

“They come to me,” she continued, “and they worship me. I tell them to live as they will, to build as they will. But mortals… they will be mortals. They are flawed. Deficient. I could force them, but… the effort involved would be overwhelming. I made some effort to settle matters when they arrived, to bring the aberrant elements into line.” She sighed. “Things will settle down in time.”

Aekino eyed a candied date. “So, I take it you would not mind if we were to deal with your more unruly worshippers in our own way?”

“Of course not. Do what you will… I receive prayer enough elsewhere, where I may walk more freely in the world than I do here.”

“Your cult has done a number of unpleasant things,” the Dynast replied, nibbling. “And in doing so, they have drawn attention from neighboring states, states who have cast their eyes in this direction.”

“You speak of Lookshy.”

“Yes.” Aekino regarded her smugly. “There are rumors that they plan to bring a First Age weapon to bear against you.”

Amalion shrugged. “If this happens, it happens.”

Aekino bit his lip. “The collateral damage would be…”

“… unacceptable,” finished Zera.

“So.” Amalion straightened in her chair. They had reached the point that the conversation had, till this point, danced around. “You are asking me to leave.”

“I am asking you for your own good,” stated the Dynast. “And the good of your people.”

“And what if I leave?” Her voice was skeptical. “What then? I have… sources of information, still. My priests, my worshippers, they tell me that Longcorner gathers its forces even now. Should I leave, they will invade, and the people of whom you speak become slaves.” She paused thoughtfully. “But then, slavery is acceptable in your realm, I believe. What are your feelings on the subject of slavery?”

Zera’s eyes flooded with dark memories. “We will not let them be enslaved,” he snapped.

“Perhaps,” said Aekino loftily, “we should consider the matter of bondage in the abstract, and the nature of control.”

The demoness stirred the tea in her cup. Despite having been poured many minutes earlier, it continued to steam. “You are a Dynast of the Scarlet Realm, are you not?” she enquired rhetorically. “The politics there are labyrinthine, yes?”

“That is something of an understatement.”

“They are not labyrinthine here.” She set her saucer down on the table’s black lacquer with an audible click. “Please speak plainly.”

Tepet Aekino flushed. “I am speaking plainly. … For me,” he added belatedly.

“I see.” Amalion turned her face away; a blatant snub. “So, Zera Thisse…”

“There is no call to insult me,” the Dynast hissed.

The demoness shrugged. “You are my guest,” she murmured. “Therefore, I show restraint. Let us leave it at that.”

Visions danced through Aekino’s inner eye, of his former life as Sharn Larenn, whose meddling helped to end Amalion’s marriage to Five Moons. “Very well,” he muttered, fuming.

Having waited with some patience through the byplay, Zera leaned forward and spoke: “All right. Let’s get back to business.” He locked eyes with Amalion. “You are different from most of your kin. We have no problem with you,” he added, ignoring Thorwald’s glare, “but your presence will cause great damage. If Lookshy brings its weapon to bear, the results will be unpleasant.”

“I have my defenses,” Amalion replied, unfazed. “If they send an airship against me, I will tear it from the sky.”

Aekino leapt back into the verbal fray. “That would only make them martyrs. It ruins our own good names, and draws even more negative attention from the rest of Creation. We only want peace here.”

“You don’t have to remain here.”

“We’ve already been here,” he persisted. “We’ve brought all sorts of harm to these people, both through our actions and through inaction. We are obligated to fix the mess we’ve caused. And if we are to do any good henceforth, we need to clear our names, and disentangle ourselves from your cultists’ beliefs.”

“Why don’t you just leave?” The demoness seemed honestly puzzled. “Then you need not have anything to do with me, nor will your reputation be further tangled with my own.”

“And what happens to our reputation then?”

Zera shook his head at his comrade’s obsession with appearances. “Let me interrupt,” he interrupted. “Are you wed to this place? There are vast expanses of the Threshold that you could move to…”

“The ways are difficult to open,” she replied. “And there are only so many places where I may be called. The fabric of Creation has worn thin in this place. We have reached out to it many times over the centuries, and it has grown easier to cross the veil. Also,” she added, glancing at Fetek, “you are here. I am interested in you, and I would stay and learn more about you, if I might.”

The conversation pattered on for a few more minutes. Thorwald continued to fume; Li remained impassive; Fetek squirmed uncomfortably. Finally, Aekino observed that it was time for them to retire, and that they would adjourn to the Tower of Winds. They would come back the next day, he said, to resolve matters.

“I will stay,” said Fetek. And that was that.

* * * * *

A short, dark hall led the Solars back to the cavernous, prismatic nave of Amalion. They ignored her worshippers huddled in devotion and prayer. They walked in silence through the bright places and the dark places, until they emerged from her doors into the blue radiance before the dawn.

Zera Thisse spoke. “We need to gather our defenses. We need to undo the damage done here in our name. And in hers.”

“Agreed,” affirmed the Dynast. “But before we go any further,” he addressed Thorwald and Li, “you two were awfully silent.”

Li shrugged. Her hair fluttered in the autumn breeze, framing a face as immobile as patterned Tuchara porcelain. “I had nothing to say.”

Aekino looked to Thorwald. “And you?”

Thorwald glared at the dark stones beneath his feet. “I have made my feelings plain. I do not like it.”

“You do not like… what, exactly?”

“Any of it.”

“Be that as it may,” interrupted Zera, “we may have to do something about these people.” It disturbed him that his comrades so often failed to focus upon the common folk.

“We should send them to Brinlack,” Thorwald replied. He had grown fond of the town; its people lived simple lives, elected their leaders, and raised weapons in their own defense.”

Aekino gestured at the black towers. “I actually think that Tul Tuin is safer for them.”

Thorwald grunted. “How?”

“If Lookshy attacks, it will be better for them here. In fact, we should bring the people of Brinlack here as well.”

“That makes no sense. Why bring them here if this place is going to be attacked?”

The Dynast gave his comrade an appraising look. Was this feigned stupidity, or was his northern companion too dense to grasp his meaning? “The city walls here are intact. Brinlack’s walls are broken; they cannot withstand a siege. If we bring them here, the Brinlack folk can help defend Tul Tuin from attack.”

“Wait.” Thorwald stopped dead. An angry flush crept up his neck, making his face seem gray in the pre-dawn light. “You mean to say that you see Lookshy as the enemy?”

“Well, of course. They want to take over this region.”

The northman’s eyes bugged. “They wish to destroy the demon!”

Aekino sighed heavily. This was not going well. “The demon is neutral. It will neither help nor hinder.”

“She is a demon!” Thorwald glared at the Dynast. His fists clenched reflexively. “She has tainted this place through her foul powers. And you worry about men attacking other men? That has happened since the dawn of time! So what if these people are enslaved? That is a far better fate than what this thing has in store for them!”

Aekino sneered. “Your judgmentality does not benefit the rest of us.”

“And yours does? You constantly make decisions based on your own selfish interests. And everything you have done is wrong!”

“Wait. Stop.” This direct assault discomfited the Twilight. “What has brought this on? Are you angry with me?”

Thorwald stared at the ground. His face burned red in the edges of dawn light.

Aekino stepped close. “Look at me,” he demanded.

“Do not speak to me thus. To think, that is has come to this.” The northman’s voice rose; it echoed among the black towers, where scaled and feathered shapes watched from high, shadowed niches. “Had I known what you were really like, I would never have taken an oath of brotherhood with you. Look at you! Consorting with the dead and demons, wearing a demon’s clothes, and caring more for the well-being of demons and the dead than those we are sworn to protect!”

Thorwald spat on the ground and turned away.

“We will speak when this tantrum has passed,” Aekino called after him.

* * * * *

Candles burned. Silks rippled like dark water.

“We have so much to discuss,” Amalion said. “We have so much to learn about each other, in your new life.”

She reached out to touch his hand. He jerked away, as if stung.

“I...” His face reddened. He looked away.

He regarded the demon with apprehension. Five Moons faded away, receding into the recesses of his soul, until only the boy remained.

“You are uncomfortable.” Amalion watched him sympathetically. “Perhaps you need some rest.”

Fetek fled to the bedchamber. He wrapped the blankets around him. The candle flames flickered for hours before he slept.

* * * * *

Leaving Aekino behind, Zera caught up to his departing companion. Li followed in their wake.

“Where are you going?” the archer demanded.

“I am going to Brinlack! To help men, and not the Fair Folk, or the dead, or now demons!”

“What about the people here?”

“What about them? I will have nothing to do with this infested place!” Thorwald shook his shaggy head. “So much care for a place that is already befouled, while perfectly good people that we can help huddle in fear in Brinlack and other places. A demon soils this place, yet none of you blink an eye. And now you want to fight those who wish to rid this place of the demon! If these invaders wish to destroy this place, they are welcome to it. In fact, I will help them!”

Zera could scarcely believe his ears. “And you’ll let the people who live here die in the crossfire?”

“They have their choice! Let them fight this demon, if they do not wish to die for her. Or they can flee. If they don’t, they are in league with her, and I refuse to help those who worship demons!” The northman gnashed his teeth. “You have tricked me! All of you have tricked me. If I had known what any of you were, lovers of the Fair Folk, sympathizers with the dead, and collaborators with demons, I never would have entered this oath.”

They glared at each other. Zera dropped his gaze first. With a gloomy shake of the head, he returned to Aekino, and the two made their way back toward the Tower of Winds.

Thorwald continued west, cutting across the city toward the river. Li approached him. “Thorwald…”

“Get away from me.” The Zenith rounded upon his comrade. “You are no different. Of all my brethren, we are more kin than the others. Yet, what are you? A half Fair Folk abomination.” Spittle gathered at the corners of his beard. “I have tried. I have tried to accept these things. But no more! No more! Wherever I turn, I dishonor myself! But no more!”

He stormed off. She followed him as he trekked past the demon towers, into the lower city where folk dwelt in the burnt-out husks of homes and warehouses. The sun gazed down from its morning perch as he reached the river’s edge. Water swirled past the jagged stumps of the wharves; the scent of smoke clung faintly to the blackened ribs of dead ships.

Thorwald gazed into the water. Li gazed at Thorwald.

The Northman looked up. Across the water, the gray and brown peaks of Stonegarden rose starkly from the morning mist. “For what it is worth, Li, I am sorry,” he said. “I am ashamed. We have traveled together for so long, and yet, I cannot forget what I heard in the Sage’s garden. I cannot reconcile the thing from beyond creation with the true and faithful friend that you have been.” He shook his head gloomily. “I would rather see this city destroyed, by men at least. Old habits die hard; I cannot let go of my oath to my people.”

“None of this seems right to me,” the swordswoman replied. “Perhaps it is better if we go away, you and I. There are other places, other fights, that will be cleaner and lead to less sorrow.”

“You mean, you would come with me? After all I have said?”

“I do not know what I am. But that does not change anything between us.”

Thorwald slumped to the ground. He buried his face in his hands. “I am ashamed. You have offered me true friendship, and I repay you with words of insult.”

A long silence followed.

“Go back, Li. Go back to our brothers. I do not want you to abandon them. I must fight Amalion, and banish her if I can. If they persist in trying to aid her, I may have to face them as enemies on the battlefield. I don’t want you to be a part of that.”

“I will fight by your side.”

“It might take time,” Thorwald persisted. “Centuries, if Fetek is right about us. It is not the southerners’ fault. They did not ask for this.”

“Take as long as you must.”

“Whatever I do, I must break an oath, whether to my people or to the Circle.” He sighed. “But I have a choice. I see that now. When the time comes, I will do what I must.”

“What will be, will be,” Li said softly. He could barely hear her words over the rush of the river. “And you may be surprised to discover what our brothers may do in the end.”

* * * * *

Zera rejoined Aekino. As the sun started its rise, they emerged from the places of black stone and brass and made their way up toward the Tower of Winds.

“It is in Thorwald’s nature to lead,” Zera was saying. “For the longest time, he’s been content to follow your lead or mine. It’s good to see him finally striking out on his own.”

Aekino snorted. “It’s poor timing, and a poor reason. He’s thinking irrationally. How long do you think it will be until he masters himself?”

“Patience is our only ally. This will all blow over, once we can convince Amalion to leave.”

“We have to convince Fetek first. He’s, what, sixteen years old? He’s at that age where he thinks he knows best.”

“Have you been in love in this incarnation?” asked Zera. He raised a hand to ward off an angry outburst from the Dynast. “I ask without malice… but you have to understand. He loves her. He does not want to leave her, or for her to leave.” He shrugged. “This may be as far as he travels with us. These things happen.”

They passed through the circling winds.

* * * * *

Thorwald and Zera crossed the river. Upon returning to Brinlack, at Thorwald’s insistence, they joined in laboring to rebuild the old city wall. A guardsman’s abortive attempt to slay the Anathema failed before it began. Thorwald only laughed as the man fled into the wilds outside the wall. Violence was a clean, cold wind; the prospect refreshed him.

Aekino and Zera returned to the Tower of Winds. They learned, to their frustration, that Darien Tal and Darien Gisla had escaped in the night, fleeing upon the back of a shining wasp-demon in the midnight hour. They set out to consolidate their position; Zera began to organize the guards and other staff, while Aekino rummaged through Ledaal Vir’s study and the astrologer Ikari’s workroom, seeking useful lore.

* * * * *

Fetek dreamed of Amalion. She wore his mother’s face.

She feared for his safety. He did not wish her to leave.

“If you ask me to stay,” she said, “then I will stay.”

“Please stay,” he pleaded.

“Then I will stay.”

* * * * *

That afternoon, Zera set out from the Tower. He would cross the river to Brinlack, there to speak with Thorwald and Li. As he descended the road that wound down from the Tower to the city below, he met with Fetek. They spoke briefly about such things as had recently transpired. And they spoke of Amalion.

“She’s no danger to us,” said the Lunar. “She can help us. She has lots of power, and she’ll place it at our disposal. She can raise Manses with a wave of her hand! We have nothing to fear from Lookshy with her at our back.”

Zera shook his head. “We already have reason to believe that she’s set Darien Tal and her daughter free.”

“I don’t think she would do that.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Zera placed a friendly hand on Fetek’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. But for all our sakes, and for the sake of the people who live here, she is going to have to go.”

* * * * *

“Descending Sun.”

Aekino looked up from the occult diagrams of the Black Treatise, which he had dredged up from the mound of books and papers that Darien Tal had left strewn across Ledaal Vir’s desk. It’s my desk now, he thought. He regarded his guest peevishly. “Fetek. It would have been more polite if you’d announced your presence.”

“I’ve spoken with the Iron Wolf.”

“You mean… ?”

“I’m not sure I can tell you anything that you’ll want to hear.”

The Twilight frowned. He drummed his fingers on parchment. “Your perceptions are colored by the past. For all that she is, for all that you desire her, Amalion remains a demon.”

Fetek bit his lip. “She can help us. She wants to help. And,” he added slyly, “we can learn so much from her. She knows more about Essence than you can imagine. She designed the Imperial Manse itself. Think what you could do with that kind of knowledge.”

“I would regret losing that knowledge. But that makes no difference. She has to go, Fetek. You have to ask her to leave.”

“She offered to leave, last night. I asked her to stay.”

“Sometimes a person has to make painful choices,” the Dynast replied. “But that is part of becoming a man.”

“Maybe.” Fetek turned to the window. “I’ll think about it,” he said, climbing onto the sill. “I need to think.”

The Lunar leapt out onto the wind.

The evening darkened. Aekino returned to his studies. And an eagle winged south beneath the sunset and early stars. Farms and forest drifted away behind him; but his choices followed, and he could not shake them loose.