A Rose In The Wind: A Saga of the Halmae -- Updated June 19, 2014

37x02

37x02

Excerpt from the notebook of Jan Kormick:

…she really is a remarkable woman, Dame Mena. Remarkable.

The notebook leaf I’d left under a rock at camp the previous night had disappeared when we reappeared there. As I see it, this means one of two things. Either the beasts of this area have developed a taste for inked parchment, or we had, indeed, been transported to a time before I placed the paper there. We have entered our own histories at precisely the same moment each night. Twiggy points out that this should not work; if we were truly sent back in time, she thinks, we would encounter earlier iterations of ourselves, and little crowds of us would accumulate. Twiggy seems quite positive of this, citing the publications of various Kettenite tomes about the orderly progress of time and the impossibility of time travel. Be that as it may, we were returned there again, by all indications about to embark on the same day for the third time. I’m content to call it a “time loop” and see what we can do about getting out of it.

The attack on the Sovereign camp remains a mystery, as does the identity of the “heathen” they claim to have captured. It is impossible, say Savina, Twiggy, and Tavi, that one person acting alone could have created the sort of massive occurrence as the attack on the camp. The Ketkath has proven to be a formidable opponent, but it is inconceivable that the land itself is responsible for such grand coordinated attack. It’s more likely, we think, that the Sheh learned of the Sovereign expedition and issued a preemptive strike. We assume the Sheh must have launched their attack from somewhere outside the Sovereign camp, although from where, we do not know.

Since we now know where the Sovereign garrison is located, we decided not to wait for the patrol to take us, but to head directly there at speed, so as to arrive well before the mess begins just before midnight. We set out on a more direct route than previous, through a gully of loose stones, which I took rump over teakettle. Dame Mena smirked at my natural grace.

We spotted an interesting marking along what may have been a foot trail that we crossed on the way. It looked like two squares, one with an open side, and some squiggly lines. (here, there is a drawing.) Made by the Sheh, I assume.

We met Tomahura’s patrol closer to camp this time, and pulled a riff on what we’d done the previous day. They took us to the same tent, and here we sit, waiting for the authorities to arrive. If they don’t show up soon, I’m going to go out looking. I don’t want to be here when the bear arrives.

Click to expand...

###

“We have traveled from Divine Mark,” Nyoko explained to the third person that day, a stocky woman who had identified herself as Prime Inquisitor Tsamanu. The group was in the same tent where they had been held the day before, with the Inquisitor, two guards, and a man whose insignia identified him as a Commander, but who never introduced himself. Nyoko continued. “We believe you are in grave danger of imminent attack, possibly from the Sheh. Has anyone unfamiliar come into your midst recently?”

The Inquisitor gave a meaningful look to Commander beside her. “You spies know well that someone has,” said the Commander. “Your friend Clayton.”

Clayton?

“I am Jan Kormick, a servant of Kettenek in my land.” Kormick mispronounced Kettenek again. By now, Nyoko found his idiosyncratic pronunciation endearing. The Inquisitor found it less so. Kormick continued undaunted. “We are telling the truth. But even if you don’t believe us, what could be the harm of increasing patrols in the area? If your patrols find Sheh attackers, you’ll know we’re telling the truth, and you’ll be safer. If they don’t, you’ll confirm your suspicions. Win win.”

“I will arrange for patrols,” the Commander said, turning to the Inquisitor. “Get their story. Gently.”

Nyoko stepped forward to begin relating her Witness, but the Inquisitor stopped her. “Adept Wazani reported that you may be hiding something.”

Nyoko resented the implication. “We conversed with Adept Wazani-san for fourteen minutes. There are, of course, many things about ourselves that we did not tell him. But I am an Adept.”

“We’ll see what your friends have to say,” said the Inquisitor. She pointed to Savina and Kormick. “Guards, take these two. Bring them to separate tents.”

Everyone in the group stiffened visibly at the idea of being separated from their friends. Arden stood up. “It’s my duty to follow her.”

One of the guards growled. Savina smiled. “It’s all right, Arden. You may stay here.”

“I promise, we will not harm them,” said the Inquisitor.

Mena shook her head and muttered. “Kormick, if you come back dead, I’ll kill you.”

The group waited, tense and silent. No one spoke. After approximately 37 minutes, Adept Wazani entered the tent. “I have spoken with each of your friends. There are some discrepancies in their stories that warrant concern.”

Nyoko wondered what sorts of discrepancies rose to the level of “warranting concern” in Adept Wazani’s mind. Just then, a piercing scream rang out across the camp. It sounded like Savina. Everyone in the group rose and rushed toward the tent flap. The guards lowered their halberds to stop them from leaving.

Things were about to get very bad, very fast. “I beg you,” Nyoko raised her voice. “In less than two hours, unless you do something, this camp will be attacked. It will result in stunning loss of life. Suspend your questioning of my friends and share custody of my Witness.”

“We promised we would not harm your friends, and we are true to our word. Guard, go see what’s happening.” One of the guards left. The other stood at the ready. Everyone looked ready to pounce. Surely they would have, if two seconds later, the guard hadn’t returned with Savina. She looked unharmed.

“What happened?” asked Rose.

“I told them everything. How we were on a mission. How time seems to be repeating itself. They kept making me sit there. I told them that it wasn’t just the lives of 500 soldiers at stake. That we were doing something important. They kept making me sit there. So I screamed. It worked—they started bringing me back here. Then this guard hurried me the rest of the way back.”

Mena’s face was a combination of anger and relief. “You scared us.”

“Hey, someone fetch this guy some water,” came a voice from outside the tent. The flap opened, and Kormick strode in. His arm and hand were bloody. He was missing a finger.

Mena’s sword was out in a heartbeat. “What did they do to you?” she demanded, her armor echoing her fury.

“Oh, this?” Kormick held up his hand. “I bit it off to prove a point. About the time loop.”

“You WHAT?” said Mena.

“Either it’s back like nothing happened in a couple of hours,” Kormick grinned, “or I get a new nickname.”

“You are a madman,” said Savina.

Kormick shrugged. “At any rate, I told them the truth. We are on a mission, time keeps repeating itself, the lives of their entire camp are at stake…”

Nyoko looked at Adept Wazani. “That is precisely what Savina told you. Exactly what discrepancies warranted concern?”

Nyoko tilted her head ever so slightly to indicate that Adept Wazani’s technique was one she was familiar with: he had questioned the accused conspirators separately to identify discrepancies in their stories, and finding none, had openly accused them of discrepancies to see how they and their friends would respond. Clearly, Nyoko thought, Adept Wazani had misjudged the party. She hoped that by exposing his stratagem, she would compel Adept Wazani to recognize her bona fides as an Adept. They really didn’t have time to continue with this fruitless interrogation—

BOOM. An explosion rocked the tent. The earth shuddered.

That should not have happened yet, Nyoko thought.

“Have we been stuck here that long?” asked Tavi.

“No,” replied Nyoko. “It’s 45 minutes early.”

“Maybe we changed things. We made them send extra patrols. Maybe those patrols found—”

Bear claws raked the tent fabric. “Whatever it is,” said Kormick, “we have to make the best of this. And there’s a good chance this tent’s going to burst into flame in a minute. When they brought me for questioning, I saw where they’re keeping the prisoner. It’s just a couple of tents away from here.”

They ran, just as before. Through swarms, sinkholes, debris, spores, roots, fire, and that enormous bear. Kormick’s foot got tangled in roots and brambles. Arden cut him free. Rocks and dirt were flying everywhere. Tavi and Twiggy each got caught in sinkholes and teleported out of them. Both were hurt—Tavi quite badly—but both were able to keep running. Nyoko remarked, not for the first time, how convenient it must be to be able to teleport.

The prisoner’s tent was guarded by two men. It was obvious that neither wanted to be there.

Kormick walked right up to one of them. “Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” He waved his injured hand in front of a guard’s face. The guard blinked. POW. Kormick knocked him out. The other guard ran away as if he had been looking for an excuse.

They rushed into the tent. It was empty, but for a man lying flat on his back on a table. He was lying still, staring upward, peaceful amidst the chaos outside. He was in his 20s, with Peninsular features, brown hair, and a reasonably athletic build. He wore a grey cloak and Peninsular travel clothes in muted colors. There was a nasty bruise on his temple. It looked like he had been treated roughly. He didn’t move.

Then he turned his head and looked at them. His brow furrowed. He blinked. Then he sat up like a shot as he gaped at them. “Who in the gods’ name are you?”

Gods, plural, Nyoko noted. “I am Nyoko of the Adepts. And you are not supposed to be here.”

His eyes looked haunted. “I know. But—how do I not be here?” His voice was plaintive. Desperate.

“What year is it?” Nyoko asked.

The man seemed relieved even to hear the question. “It’s the year 390 in the Alliance reckoning. 158 in the Peninsular reckoning. The Sovereigns would say year 53 of the reign of Rikitaru Nori.”

“16 years ago,” said Nyoko. “Do you know why the attack came early today?”

The man’s eyes grew even wider. He leapt to his feet and grabbed Nyoko by the shoulders. “You remember. You remember! You remember! My name is Aeton. I have been dying every night for the last 16 years. And I don’t know what you did, but listen—”

The campfire crackled, its light reflecting off the black, spiky grass of their campsite.

“See, my finger’s back!” said Kormick.

Great storyline! Thanks for so many frequent posts, it's been nice to check in on them in between rewatching Leverage on Netflix!!

While we're in a lull between updates, I hope ellinor and Ilex won't mind me popping in with something I found while going through the mass of papers that had accumulated in my gaming bag in the last few years.

Apparently, when Nyoko first met the party, she started keeping a list of "useful" things she was learning from the party.

Here are her valuable insights into the heathen mind:

1. Always pay a man you might have to kill. Killing a slave makes you a -heel.
2. "The robes really lull them into a false sense of due process." --Jan
3. Poetry is the key to great strategy.
4. They believe licking is crucial.
5. If something makes the hummingbird nervous, run.

I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA where 3 and 4 came from. 5 is good advice though.

It makes perfect sense to me!

I just realized I've been following this thread for three years now; and I still enjoy the posts as much as I did when I started!

I think I owe myself a reread

What, huh? It's been four months since we posted anything? I must've been in a time loop or something…

Thank you, Falkus, for that generous compliment. Thank you, spyscribe, for reminding us to watch hummingbirds CLOSELY.

And here comes a NEW UPDATE………!!

38x01

WAKE UP. It’s the new people. Meet us at the northern pass unless you have a better idea. Reply in twenty-five words or less.

The words burst into Aeton’s sleeping mind like a clanging bell, charging him with adrenaline and sending him leaping to his feet before he fully understood what was happening.

It was dark. He was in the forest. A breeze played fretfully in the invisible treetops.

It was still dark. He dodged backward from his campsite to hide in the brush, his heart racing.

I woke up in time. Oh, praise the gods, I woke up in time.

—Unless it was a dream. He’d had dreams before, or sometimes hallucinations in the early days before he’d learned how to avoid the worst torture from the Sovereigns, dreams of freedom—dreams of simply waking up in time, before they found his campsite and woke him with a kick to the head and dragged him away as their prisoner, every single identical dawn for all these years.

But the dreams of waking in time never came true. When the time loop reset he was always deeply asleep until the rude awakening, the kick, the capture, the ropes and questions and knives.

Well, if this was a dream, it was a great one, a fantastic wonderful ecstatic one, and he would enjoy it. The novelty alone was like a rich dessert, sweet and almost overwhelming.

The new people had awakened him. They had to be the people who’d burst into the tent where he was being held just before the battle reached its lethal peak and time invariably reset. Peninsular people, they’d been, all but one. And now they’d used magic to wake him up—Reply in twenty-five words or less.

Right.

Gods bless you, and the Lady’s fortune favor you! Will find you as soon as I can. Repeat at noon if I’m not there.

###

As the party hiked toward the northern pass where they’d arranged to meet Aeton, Twiggy posed the question that Mena was also turning over in her own mind: “His phrases about ‘the Lady’ are Sedellan, right? What kind of Sedellan follower gets stuck in a time loop in the Sovereignty?” As usual, Mena thought, Twiggy was asking an excellent question.

“A confused one?” ventured Kormick.

“I’m sure there are Sedellan sects who might send emissaries to the Sovereignty,” Savina said, “although it’s true an Ehktian Questor or an Alirrian Water Walker would make more sense.”

“None of them make sense,” Twiggy reminded them. “He said last night that he’d been here sixteen years. That’d mean before the Affirmation, so his mere presence was illegal. Whatever he was doing out here was probably secret.”

“I can think of only a few reasons Sedellans would be travelling into the wilderness of the Sovereignty. Into Sheh lands,” said Mena. “And only a few sects who would do it. One is the Advocates.”

“Who?” asked Savina, frowning.

“Never heard of ‘em,” said Kormick. “Not that I’m famed for my encyclopedic religious knowledge.”

“It’s no surprise you haven’t,” Mena said. “The Advocates keep themselves a dim, rumored secret at best. They are rarely approved of and their actions are rarely legal.”

Mena could feel Arden’s eyes on her, a particular meaning in her gaze, and for good reason. She and Arden had already had a number of private talks about the Advocates, one of whom was a likely player in the complicated mess that was Arden’s history. And “player” was a kind term. “Liar and murderer” was probably more accurate for that particular Advocate.

But back to the present. The aggravatingly repetitious present.

Mena offered them the same brief lecture she’d given secretly to Arden not too long ago. “Sedellus is, among other things, the goddess of change, and the Advocates attempt to create change in the world, usually in the realms of religion, politics, culture. They divide within themselves into two groups: the West Wind, which generally seeks progressive change, and the East Wind, which seeks regressive change. Means don’t concern them. I cannot stress that enough. They care only about accomplishing the changes they seek, no matter how many laws they break or people they hurt in the process. Which is why we Defiers often find ourselves hunting them down, and why they need to keep a low profile.”

“What makes you think this man’s an Advocate?” Twiggy asked.

“Because they’ve been known to be active in the Sovereignty. In particular, we have reason to believe the West Wind helped to provoke the Affirmation.”

“How?” asked Nyoko.

Mena cast a wary glance at her, wondering what the Adept’s reaction would be to her next words. “I should caution, although your first instinct may be to hate the Advocates and expose them—a worthy instinct—it would be prudent not to share what I am about to say next. The Affirmation is a good thing; to undermine it by publicizing past deeds that cannot be undone should require careful consideration first.”

Everyone nodded but watched Mena with tense concern, including Nyoko—but excepting Arden, who was glaring at the ground as she paced along.

“Do you remember when I told you about the sacrifices made by Rose’s mother and her comrades to the Sedellan angel they’d summoned? Rose’s mother made the sacrifice of death, which is why we’re here. But Giovanna’s companion Eva made the sacrifice of deceit—she confessed that she had betrayed the Alirrian monks of Sharpstone to the Inquisition. It’s how they came to be massacred. What you did not know is that Eva was working for the Advocates at the time.”

Arden had raised her gaze from the ground—a distant, tight-lipped, cold gaze that peered back across the world to the Peninsula. “That massacre, as you might recall,” Mena continued, “rightly appalled so many citizens of the Sovereignty that religious toleration finally found the support it needed, and the Lord High Regent declared the Affirmation to be law. That’s a common Advocate tactic: generating change through outrage. It’s possible—likely, even—that the Advocates of the East Wind are involved with the Tide. Lord Nishi’s Alirrian heresy in the Hillside District reeks of their tactics. Trying to generate enough outrage about Alirrians to get the Affirmation revoked.”

“So you’re saying this man we’re going to meet may have been party to the murder of innocent Alirrians,” Savina said slowly.

“It’s best not to say or assume anything yet,” Mena said. “The poor man has certainly suffered, and I see no reason to accuse him of being an Advocate on top of that until we know more. And we must explore the topic delicately.”

Kormick grunted agreement. “Not that I don’t enjoy a flying leap into a conclusion now and again, but Dame Mena’s right. For all we know, he’s just mixing up his religious phrases. I have some sympathy there.”

“He will have my compassion first,” Savina said. “But if he was involved in the Sharpstone massacre….” She left the threat hanging.

38x02

After a few wrong turns and the dodging of a Sovereign patrol, they arrived at the northern pass and, not long afterward, saw a lonely figure toiling up the hill. When he saw them, he started running. Closer, he dumped his pack on the ground and ran faster.

Grinning, he raced straight up to Mena and threw his arms around her. “I’m starting to think you’re really real!” he declared.

Mena disentangled him gently. “Clayton?” she asked. “Or Aeton?”

“Aeton, yes. I was giving the Sovereigns a false name for a while, just for kicks—anyway I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. I am so happy. Sixteen years, and I—is that beef jerky?” He was looking at Kormick, who’d been munching when he arrived.

Wordless, Kormick held out the jerky. Aeton seized it, bit deep, and sighed, eyes closed. “Oh my. I haven’t had anything like that in—oh my.”

“How did you get caught in the loop? What were you doing out here?” Twiggy asked.

“Mmmmm.”

“When you’re ready,” Kormick added.

“Mmmm. Right. I was with a mining consortium. Scouting the mountains. Went ahead of my group, got captured by the Sovereigns, and—started looping.”

Savina narrowed her eyes at him. “We mean you no harm. You can tell us the truth,” she said.

Aeton fell still and stared at the ground. After a moment, he said, “I’m sorry. It’s—you have me at a disadvantage. It’s been a long time since I interacted with anyone without second chances. Can we say that my business was not my own, and leave it at that?”

Mena knew she wasn’t the only member of their group who found that suspicious.

“It is unfortunate to have secrets among allies,” she said. “We’re trapped in this loop, too. We would appreciate a mark of trust.”

Aeton looked unhappy, but said only, “We were looking for something. We may as well call it a mine. I volunteered to scout ahead, and got caught. I think I was the only one in my group who ended up in the loop.”

“All right,” said Kormick, “let’s change the subject—for now. Tell us, in all this time, have you discovered what’s causing the time loop? Any ideas about how to escape?”

“I have a theory it was caused by the Sovereign head priest, Father Ozishi,” Aeton said quickly, obviously relieved to be talking about something else. “I could adjust the time of the attack a little bit by telling the Sovereigns to send out patrols, but the loop always resets a few minutes after they order the priest to fire up the defenses. I got loose once and shanked him—” Aeton cut a nervous look at Nyoko, seeming to remember that she was Sovereign “—but it still happened. I guess he has assistants.”

“Who attacks the camp?” asked Tavi.

“The Sheh. And just a heads-up, they don’t like outsiders. I escaped and made my way to them once. At least that was a quick death.”

He paused, remembering. Then he shook it off. “Your turn,” he said. “What brings you out here?”

“We’ve been following the trail of the lost Expedition,” said Savina.

“We’re looking for remnants of the Sheh, too,” added Twiggy.

“Research purposes,” Mena said firmly, hoping to cut off further explanations. Twiggy and Savina were being sensible by not saying everything, but if Aeton could be cagey, so could she. “Is there any idea you had for escaping the time loop that you gave up on because you were alone?”

Aeton nodded slowly, his attention caught by the question. “Maybe… if we could stop the priest from setting up the defenses… Not in a sacrilegious way, you understand.” He directed this last comment to Nyoko.

“I, too, support the goal of ending the time loop,” Nyoko said. “You need not fear me. Though I might propose that we first try options other than killing priests.”

It was too late in the day to reach the Sovereign encampment before the loop reset, so they consulted their maps and settled on a better spot to meet the following morning. Aeton needed a great deal of reassurance that they would wake him up again. “As many times as it takes,” Savina told him. “We will not leave you here to suffer.”

She was obviously warming to the man. Mena felt herself warming to him, as well. Aeton was surprisingly open, curious, and even friendly for a man who had endured the same torture-filled day over and over for sixteen years. The world was fresh to him—he greeted every sight and voice and taste with childlike delight. And yet he was also shot through with a deep, haunted understanding of cruelty and hopelessness. It was difficult not to want to believe in him, to help him.

But sixteen years, he’d said… meaning he’d become trapped around the time of Rose’s birth. Mena wanted to believe that was a coincidence, a little joking twist of fate from the goddess of fortune… but Aeton wouldn’t tell them why he’d come here.

For the rest of the afternoon, they meandered in the general direction of the Sovereign encampment, giving Twiggy a chance to search for more of the mysterious trail markings she had begun to notice here and there.

Indeed, as the sun neared the horizon, she discovered first one rock, then another, carved with particular markings—especially squares—that seemed to indicate a trail. If it was a trail, it led in the direction of the encampment.

Mena noticed, then, that Arden and Aeton had dropped to the back of the group, well out of earshot, and were speaking intensely.

Mena wondered what that was about. At the same time, she was curious about the rock markers. The number of lines forming the squares grew fewer with each successive marker, as if they were counting down. Were they indications of distance?

“Getting closer,” said Twiggy.

Arden and Aeton’s conversation broke up around the time that Twiggy found the next trail marker. Mena helped her copy it into their growing collection of odd Sheh symbols.

A few minutes later Arden drifted casually over to Mena, offered her a fresh skin of water, and murmured, “He knows about Rose.”

Some Brief Observations Upon the Sheh Symbography

You may have noticed that that last update contained some links to a blog called "Some Brief Observations Upon the Sheh Symbography." That probably bears some explanation. So here goes:

One of the more awesome and ambitious (or, if you'd prefer, crazy) things that Fajitas has done as part of the Rose in the Wind game has been to invent an entire symbolic language.

Yeah.

As you can see from this first introduction in the story, the existence of the language unfolded slowly over the course of gaming. (We actually got one clue way back as we were entering formerly-Sheh territory, many sessions before this one, but we had no idea what we were looking at, then.) Starting in session 38, Fajitas would occasionally hand us an index card with some symbols on it. At first, we perhaps assumed that Fajitas was merely providing Ketkath-y local color. But based on the gradual accretion of information, the truth eventually sank in, and we gradually began to understand that the symbols were part of a coherent language. And over time, we realized that he'd not only made a language (again, wow), but he'd made one that we would need to learn to understand and even communicate in, in order to solve the problems the party was facing.

We really wanted to give you a sense of how that worked and what it felt like, and give you an opportunity to enjoy the puzzle as we did. In fact, as it was happening, one of our big questions was "how in the world are we going to be able to include this symbol-based language in the story hour?!" We finally figured that the best way to do it was to have a companion blog where we'd show the pictures that Fajitas gave us, and whenever a piece of the language appears in the story hour, we'll link to the blog so you can see the same hints that Fajitas gave us at the pace he gave them to us.

We hope you enjoy the puzzle as much as we did. If you don't want to, never fear, we'll explain what the party figured out at the pace the party did as we tell the story. But if you want to try your hand at the same partial-information clues we had, we'll post them there so you can play around with it.

Feel free to discuss your theories in the comments over on the blog! We'll join in the discussion if you'd like.

38x03

Arden saw her chance as the rest of the group grew distracted by the symbols they had found. Aeton was clearly enjoying his first taste of freedom in sixteen years (twice as long as I’ve been a slave, and never a new day) and was strolling at the back of the pack, eyes bounding happily around the scenery.

Arden was sorry to interrupt him. But he might be an Advocate…

She steeled herself, slowed her steps, and walked silently beside him for a moment. Then she spoke.

“I’m thinking we may have similar secrets,” she said. She’d decided that the best way to learn if he belonged to the Advocates was to insinuate that she did, too.

He raised an eyebrow but stayed silent. Damn. It was hard to bluff someone who made you do all the work.

“I’m wondering which way the wind blows you,” she tried. The Advocates split themselves into two sects, the East Wind and the West. Watching him closely, she was sure she saw understanding in his eyes, but “You’re not the same as the rest of your friends,” was all he said, making the statement into a faint question.

“I’m not,” she said. “And they don’t know that. I’m trusting you, now.”

“Risky,” he said. “You answer some questions for me, maybe I’ll answer some for you. What can you tell me about the young nobleman… and his sister?”

A chill raced down Arden’s spine. He was trying to be noncommittal, but urgency was clear underneath. He was asking about Rose. A Sedellan who’d been on a secret mission sixteen years ago to these distant lands—home of the Sheh with their prophecy about girl babies—was asking about Rose. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Very little,” she said, shrugging. “They’re children of a Pol Hennan noble family which operates a lot of teleport networks—”

He interrupted her. “Who are their parents, exactly? Who is their mother?”

“You don’t need me for that,” Arden answered. “Ask them. Or when you’re back in the Peninsula, go to Pol Henna and look up the whole family tree. Why do you want to know?”

“Is their mother an Ehktian?”

“Why?”

“It’s not your turn to ask questions yet.”

“I’m making it my turn. Why do you care? Do you know her?” Arden tumbled the possibilities around in her head. Aeton had been here sixteen years. If he had been an Advocate before that, he could have worked with Eva. Could Eva and the Advocates have turned their attention to the Sacrifice of Death? Certainly they would know about it, because Eva had been there at the start…

“Sorry,” Aeton said. “But you haven’t answered my perfectly harmless questions about your companions yet. The girl Rose… is it just me, or is her hair a strange color?”

“It’s a fashion,” Arden said. “Silly but expensive.”

“She’s an interesting girl. Why are you all out here? Why is she out here?” Arden knew she’d better wrap this conversation up soon; she wasn’t getting anywhere useful, and this ice was too thin.

“Listen,” she said, one last try. “For all I know, you and I are out here for the same reasons, and we should talk about all of that, but I can’t say anything more about my mission until I’m sure about yours.”

“If I belonged to whatever secret group you’re insinuating I belong to,” Aeton said, a twinkle in his eye, “don’t you think there’d be a password I would have expected to hear by now? You know any passwords?”

“Sixteen years, maybe the passwords have changed,” she tried, allowing her real impatience to show in her voice.

“Or maybe there aren’t any passwords because I have nothing to hide.”

Arden sighed, defeated. She knew some useful passwords. But not for this conversation. Not for the Advocates.

“Is this all an act for my benefit,” Aeton asked her then, “or would your companions be surprised to hear that their slave is keeping secrets from them?”

Arden had to smile. “I don’t know if they’d be surprised,” she said. “The Justicar’s been waiting for me to poison his soup since we met.” Aeton was shrewd, infuriating, and probably someone she could have been friends with in a different lifetime. “I’ll leave you alone. But—for what it’s worth—what’s happened to you makes me miserable just to imagine, and that’s from someone who was enslaved in the Aegosian mines. I’m sorry you’ve had to go though it.”

“I appreciate that.”

Arden increased her pace a little. Eventually she slipped up beside Mena, shot a glance back to make sure Aeton had stopped watching her and resumed his happy study of the forest and the sky, and then murmured, “He knows about Rose.”

They had no chance to speak further until the time loop reset, which it did on schedule at midnight. They saw flashes of light in the distance, from the battle at the encampment. Savina reassured Aeton once more that they would absolutely awaken him in time, and then he vanished—and they were back at their campsite of the night before.

Mena barely skipped a beat. “Pay attention, everyone. Arden has bad news.”

Arden described her conversation with Aeton, watching everyone’s face grow grimmer.

“Is he an immediate threat?” demanded Tavi.

“I don’t think so, Signor,” Arden said. “He was very curious about her, but he didn’t strike me as scared or angry or planning something. Then again, I’m pretty sure he’s an Advocate. And that means we can’t trust him.”

“We need him, for now,” pointed out Twiggy. “He knows everything about the Sovereign encampment, especially where that priest is.”

“And I don’t sense malice in him,” added Savina. “I’m not saying we should trust him, but I don’t believe he would hurt Rose.” She smiled at her friend. Rose attempted to smile back, a little weakly. Arden felt bad for her. It couldn’t be pleasant to hear yourself discussed as a possible target.

“We will remain on guard,” said Mena.

“And, if he screams ‘I am the Agent of Destruction, ARRGGGGH!’ and leaps in Rose’s direction, we kill him, yes?” asked Kormick.

“Instantly,” said Tavi.

38x04

Good morning! Meet you in the assigned spot?

Lady be praised. Thank you! I’m on my way.

###

After meeting up with Aeton that morning, the party agreed that another day spent in reconnaissance couldn’t hurt. After all, they had as many days as they wanted. Twiggy, in particular, was eager to hunt down more of the mysterious trail markings, which she was increasingly sure must be Sheh. She felt glad that the others were willing to give her the time for more research. After all, one of their major goals on this journey was to learn more about the Sheh. Furthermore, the time loop seemed triggered by the Sheh attack on the Sovereign camp. Learning their ways might be a key to escaping the loop.

Kormick and Nyoko decided to hike to the Sovereign encampment to investigate the high priest, whose actions in defense of the camp Aeton believed to be directly linked to the loop. Sending the two off alone seemed risky, but, as Kormick pointed out, everything would reset at midnight even if they died horribly.

And so Twiggy found herself leading the rest of the group through the forest, following the trail she’d discovered the previous day. As it crossed a small stream, Twiggy spotted an elaborate set of markings on a rock. One reminded Twiggy of a mark she’d seen before near a different water source—did it mean “water”? Another suggested that a second trail branched off from the first, climbing up a slope. Twiggy and Mena decided to explore that branch, because the first trail was continuing to lead them ever closer to the Sovereign encampment. Aeton, perhaps not surprisingly, was pleased about the detour.

At the top of the slope, the trail ended at the entrance to a small cave. It was dark inside, with the sound of dripping water.

Oh no, groaned Acorn in Twiggy’s mind.

“Oh yes,” she told him.

But it’s dark and dank and dirty. Can’t we send the slave, Chelesta?

“Her name is Arden, and you know very well that she hates caves,” Twiggy said. “Be brave.”

As they stepped inside and Twiggy cast light, they could see that the cave was not deep: a short passage opened quickly into a large, single chamber. A dusty pile of firewood was stacked next to a long-cold firepit, and a rotting pair of fur cloaks lay in a corner.

Arden, Twiggy noticed, seemed happy to linger nearer the entrance, where a shaft of sunlight fell warmly on the stone walls.

“No footprints, nothing’s been disturbed,” said Mena. “I’d imagine no one has been here for at least fifty years. Maybe more.”

Twiggy scanned the room once more, disappointed not to find any more revealing clues about the Sheh.

“This might be something,” said Arden suddenly, brushing at the sunlit wall. “It’s worn away, but it gets clearer…” She brushed more dust and cobwebs off the wall, stepping deeper into the cave. Twiggy hurried over. There were markings drawn on the wall: a huge collection of cryptic symbols.

They cleared it off carefully, then everyone stepped back and studied it.

“It’s a map,” Twiggy declared. “See this line of symbols? They must mean 'water,' like we thought—that’s the stream we just crossed down the hill. It’s a map of this exact region.” She was delighted. The mark in the spot they seemed to be standing must mean “cave.” They could correlate the other markings to the land’s features to learn more Sheh writing. This map was a major find.

Mena felt the same way. The two of them got to work at once, copying down markings, debating their meanings, beginning to build a glossary of Sheh symbols. It reminded Twiggy of her best days in Mena’s schoolroom, the two of them working as a team on some difficult logical problem.

Savina helped for a while and then disappeared to bathe in one of the stream’s quiet pools. Aeton set off to explore the nearby forest; Tavi and Rose meandered in the opposite direction. And Arden stripped off her gear, weapons, and boots before lying down in the sunny grass outside the cave’s mouth, falling asleep in an attitude of graceful relaxation that would have befitted an Ebisite sultana dozing under a gold-fretted trellis.

It was a good day.

###

Kormick clutched a rag to the bloody stump where his finger had been and raised an eyebrow at Marshal Tomahura and the Chief Inquisitor.

“I will… send out additional patrols,” said the Marshal, staring.

Nyoko couldn’t help staring a little, too. She had been aware that Kormick was prepared to repeat his … unorthodox gesture … to convince the Sovereign leaders that their story of the time loop was real, but it was another thing to Witness him doing it as the climax to hours of attempted persuasion. She wrenched her attention away.

“Additional patrols will not be enough,” she told the Marshal. “We have reason to believe that the defenses set by your High Priest are implicated in the problem.”

The Marshal looked puzzled. “We have magical defenses, of course,” he said, “but nothing that affects time.”

“Can the Priest be trusted?” asked Kormick.

The Marshal’s look of offended disdain was answer enough, and Nyoko stepped in quickly. “We do not question his loyalty,” she said. “But given that our Lord Kettenek makes all our magic possible, and even our best scholars cannot hope to understand all of His laws, perhaps something unexpected has occurred—”

With a flash of light followed instantly by a crash of thunder that shook the earth beneath them, the attack began.

It was a strange thing, Nyoko reflected, to find herself under assault, yet wanting to roll her eyes rather than seize her bow.

“Here we go again,” sighed Kormick.

“TO THE DEFENSES!” roared the Marshal, racing out of the tent.

“We must follow the—” Nyoko began.

“Find the Priest, yes yes,” said Kormick.

They followed the Marshal out of the tent, then followed the messenger he sent racing across the encampment with orders for High Priest Ozishi.

After a hard sprint, dodging the chaos as Sovereigns dove for their weapons, they approached a large tent decorated with Kettenite holy symbols. A guard, her eyes wide, lunged at Kormick and grabbed his arm. “No heathens permitted!” she yelled.

Nyoko didn’t wait to see how that played out. She dodged around and ran into the tent.

Inside was a warm den of seeming safety: candles flickered, illuminating the priest who knelt at the center of a carefully crafted ritual circle, praying. Nyoko instantly catalogued the symbols and ritual artifacts incorporated into the circle so she could recall them later. The messenger, beside Nyoko, looked uncertain about interrupting.

“Father—?” the messenger began, but the priest ignored him.

“Kettenek, Holy Father, Strong Arm, Defender, keep us safe. Preserve us upon this day—”

The ground beneath the priest simply opened up like a mouth, swallowed him and half of his circle, and closed again.

He was gone, beneath the earth, in one of the gulping holes that had plagued the party the first time they endured this battle.

“Wake up. Let me see your hands,” Mena barked. Nyoko blinked. She was back at their campsite, and Mena was striding up to Kormick, who groggily sat up from his bedroll.

Mena knelt and looked at his fingers carefully, then at him.

“All ten,” Kormick said. “And if a man can’t even cut off his own finger to make a point—”

Mena sighed. “Just don’t do when it counts, dear.”