The Center of Time

The merchant smiles a bit when Antor walks over, his fingers tapping against a fine ceramic blade with an increasing pace. "I'm popular today," he mutters to no one in particular. His ears perk up slightly when Father Seren talks quietly to Echo, and his fingers turn into a blur before his wristband squeaks again, and he stops. He waves slightly at his collection of goods. "Step up, and see what's been found. I've got good things here, fine things. Things you might be needing before taking off out of the city, ya?"

The elderly fruit seller, positioned nearby, rolls his eyes extravagantly as he continues to hawk his wares with elaborate and energetic gestures.

Seregal Chakane, an Intelligent Jack who Explores Dark Places, currently disguised as "Father Seren"

"The greatest treasure, of course," Seregal replies to Echo. "Knowledge! The lost secrets of the ancients! Imagine, if the great age of wonders could be restored to modern civilisation." He scrunches his face up, as if thinking hard and then he smiles again. "Say, my map does lead to a ruined city. Or at least the site of one. Why not come with me? My city could be your city! If not, at least you'll see some spectacular views. I'm sure this will be a relatively straight forward journey; with nothing like that pit of brazen spiders from last time, or the Skarros Labyrinth." He beams again, giving Echo some time to think his proposal over.

Seregal hears the vendor, and then turns, distracted. "I have everything I need, young man," Seregal says, tugging at his pack.

He tugs at his scruffy beard and stops.

Someone is watching him.

Seregal carefully turns around, trying not to break the pleasant, absent-minded demeanour of Father Seren.

His fingers reach into his robes, closing on his short sword.

Then he spies the watcher.

It's another familiar face. Seregal waves, once more relaxing into the Father's comfortable persona.

"Antor!" he calls out. "What are you doing here? How ever are your parents? I do hope that they're keeping well." Seregal points to Echo. "This is Echo, an old adventuring colleague of mine. I'm trying to persuade her to travel with me through the Sheer. I have a map! It might lead to some promising insights. Or at least an interesting journey, at the very least!"

Echo nodded absently at 'Antor,' but her attention was on the salesman behind the rickety counter. On that bracelet.

He's doing something with it, reacting to what we say. Especially to what Father Seren said. I think he's...communicating with someone or something else.

That combined with his uncharacteristic defensiveness about his sources gave Echo an uneasy feeling.

"Let me see the map," she offered, turning a bit so the shopkeeper wouldn't get a glimpse of it as she looked it over.

Seregal Chakane, an Intelligent Jack who Explores Dark Places, currently disguised as "Father Seren"

Seregal detects Echo's wariness. He smiles. "Of course; but I have a wonderful plan." He hopes that she remembers him well enough to pick up on his intonation. "Let's go to a place where can all catch up, out of this dusty street and chill air, preferably with a bottle of mulled wine at hand!"

He gestures at one of the inns.

His plan is to visit the room where he stayed last night, which had a nice view of a back alley. Then, they'll make a show of entering, order some wine, lock the door and slide down the outside drainpipe.

Or at least that's the idea flitting through Seregal's head.

"Hello Father Seren," Antor says as he draws closer. "It's good to see you again. My parents are doing well. Father is still stubborn as ever and mother is always after him for this or that. Seems they argue more now that they've stopped traveling. I guess they have to burn energy somehow." A slight laugh escapes his lips. Antor looks at the woman Father Seren pointed to. He sees that she seems to be a bit distracted by the vendor at the moment and turns back to Father Seren. "So, you're heading to unearth some new discoveries? I'd be interested in joining with you if you have need of another companion. I've been around here and there, but haven't quite found anything too astonishing of late and my funds are running a bit low."

[Psst, everyone, it's late autumn and darned cold out. It's cloudy and starting to snow lightly. I assure you, there's no hot sun, and very little dust.]

Seregal, you stayed at The Scavenger's Art last night, a delightfully cobbled-together place with a clientele as diverse as its building material. The bartender, a tall, wiry, clever looking fellow with skin like a moonless night and eyes like diamonds in the rough, had welcomed the touch of class an Aeon Priest had brought to his establishment.

Seregal Chakane, an Intelligent Jack who Explores Dark Places, currently disguised as "Father Seren"

"It would be a pleasure if you would accompany us," Seregal beams at Antor. "Onward, my friends, to the inn! There we can warm up out of this chill and start to make plans." He waves his hands languidly towards Echo and Antor, beckoning them to following him, and heads towards the Scavenger's Art.

There, no doubt, he can persuade the innkeep to let him have the room of his choice for a few shins.

And some mulled wine wouldn't hurt, either.

The Scavenger's Art is as eclectic inside as out, with no two tables, stools, or chairs built to the same lines, or even of the same material. But the bar is wood. Mostly. The clientele matches the décor, looking like a veritable sideshow of sizes, shapes, colors, and dress. Many are armed, many more are sporting some numenera device or another, and all look some variety of avaricious or dangerous. You can acquire some mulled wine and a relatively quiet alcove without too much difficulty, and just close enough to the bandaged mercenaries to do a bit of eavesdropping, should you feel so inclined. Should you care to stretch your ears, you can hear the following:

"...Not going back. Not having to scratch together a fire every night was pure misery when every misshapen mutant and his bastard aunt decided to come calling," one man is saying, taking a pull on his tankard and slamming it down decisively.

"I would have welcomed that. At least you can scare the abhumans off if you get nasty enough," a woman mutters, her dark hair streaked with dust and snow. She presses a hand to the bandage on her calf and blanches slightly. She grabs for her ale and take a couple of long pulls before going on. "The hounds just wouldn't shut up. Howling like we were disemboweling their kin, and worse when we actually did. Stars of my fathers, they'd have to give me a small fortune to head out again."

Echo makes her decision and gives the shopkeeper an apologetic nod as she pushes the tubes back. It was not a terrible deal, but her money was very tight right now, and the circumstances too hurried to give it the proper consideration.

"Maybe later," she assures him, "Thanks for your time." Then she follows Father Seren, hurrying her steps a little to avoid being left behind.

At the Scavenger's Art, she seats across from the Father, but doesn't order anything. Instead she just watches him, inscrutably expressionless, as she waits to see this map he's so excited about.

Seregal Chakane, an Intelligent Jack who Explores Dark Places, currently disguised as "Father Seren"

Seregal holds up the map carefully so while Antor and Echo can see it, no one else can. He keeps his voice low-pitched so it won't carry.

"About a few months ago I was on my rounds between the aldeia when I stopped at the Hospice of Turning Swallow. It's a little out of the way; it's where members of the Order treat the sick, those with rare diseases, often caused by the numenera.

"There was a dying man who wanted to his last words recorded for posterity. Since they were busy, Sister Makhoram asked if I could do it.

"So for a few days I sat by a dying man's beside, and wrote down his last story. His name was Zorak of Redstone. He was a numenera hunter, and his conscience was wracked by something that had happened over twenty years ago.

"He and his expedition had gone to Augur-Kala, at the behest of an Augur, Jastor Kannop, who wanted to explore some ruins. Now the thing was that the Augurs didn't go near these ruins, for reasons known only to them. That was why Jastor was hiring humans to do his dirty work for him. Jastor told Zorak that there was a steel garden at the centre of the city, and that Jastor wanted Zorak to take a green orb from a machine at the centre of the garden. In return, Zorak and his expedition could take whatever they wanted from the city. All they had to do was give the green orb to Jastor.

"So Zorak lead his expedition to the city. He learned that the Augurs called it Iszat Girrem, the Waiting City, or the City Adrift on the Time Tides. It's out of phase; if you go at the wrong time, you'll just see dust and glass and ruins, and if you go at the right time, you'll see a shining city, fresh as the day it was made.

"Zorak's nano, his wife, was the real brains of the mission. He never told me her name. The nano figured out from Jastor's notes how how the expedition could phase into the city when it appeared. There was a clock or something at the city's entrance that she was able to use. So, when the city appeared, the expedition went in. Zorak said that it was the most wonderful thing he'd ever seen – water flowing backwards, beautiful gardens, succulent fruits and delights for everyone. Zorak said that there were Aurgurs in the streets; but they weren't hostile. They were curious, they didn't think their city was ruined at all. Zorak talked about the wondrous machines, the numenera, things he'd never seen before or since.

"But with his mind on the job, Zorak led his team to the garden and pulled out the green orb. Then everything started to go strange. Zorak said that he saw buildings age to dust, and saplings grow into great trees from a single heartbeat. He kept his expedition together and they ran for the entrance to the city. The nano told Zorak to wait for her while she fiddled with the clock and got everyone to safety. Zorak waited, but then he saw one of his other other expedition members panic and run forward before the nano gave the signal. She turned instantly into dust. Zorak lost his nerve and ran, carrying the orb. He saw the nano screaming at him, beating her hands against something like a glass shell in front of her. Zorak ran and lost consciousness. When he woke up, he found that half of his body was aged, like it was an old man, while the other half was smooth and young, like a youth. He tried to go back for his expedition members, but the city was in ruins. He scavenged a handful of cyphers from the ruins, great wonders he said, never had anything like them before or after. Then he took the green orb, smashed it, and never returned to Augur-Kala again. He never met Jastor again.

"But the mission haunted him for the rest of his life. He kept talking about the nano again, and how he should have waited for her. Maybe everything would be all right. He wanted to go back there, but was too sick. The old half his body was dying and while the young half was eternally youthful. He swallowed some poison that would give him a long death, but then I wrote down the history of his expedition. Then he gave the map, and asked me if I could find out what happened to his wife. Said it was her map, with her notes. Then he died. He closed his eyes and that was it."

Seregal is quiet for a few moments, wiping at his eyes.

It's a beautiful story.

Most of it it even true.

He holds up the map. "So, this is the map made by Zorak's wife. She's got notes on it. If I can figure it out, we can get into the Waiting City. At the very least, it might be a good place to find cyphers, or at least." Seregal shrugs. "That's if we can believe the words of a dying man."