Bloodcookie
Explorer
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Aeon (updated 10/9/14)
I find your reasoning persuasive, but I'm still nagged by the first thing Eadric says when he's back with Shomei: "Perhaps celibacy is best."
The other explanation for that statement is that he is ashamed at the way the conversation reveals his continuing sexual attraction for Nehael and what he revealed about his choices vis a vis Shomei.
I thought Eadric was mostly beyond shame over his choices since he acknowledged (embraced?) the role of his liaisons in the fall of Orthodoxy. (I'm sorry, despite a search I can't recall what this is called - the second something or other?)
EDIT: Found it.
So Skôhsldaúr is the Second Turning of Saizhan.
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carborundum
Adventurer
...base? ;-)
Sepulchrave II
Legend
Day 5 – Seeing
Nercamay knelt. Eadric drew her knees apart – whilst carefully avoiding her gaze – held her breast-bone, and pressed in the hollow of her back, straightening it.
“Good,” he exhaled. He stood, poured himself kschiff, and sat in a chair.
“I am not sure what this posture is designed to achieve, Ahma,” the devil looked at him. “It does not seem very practical for the purpose of pleasure. I know many others, which would serve better. Unless you simply require…”
Eadric held up his hand. “It will help you concentrate. And you being over there, and me being over here will help me concentrate. Look ahead, Nercamay, and slightly down. Not at me.”
She did so.
“Place your fingertips together, thus,” he demonstrated.
“I cannot see. I may now look at you?”
“You may glance.”
She sighed and followed his instructions.
“You need to slow your breathing, Nercamay.”
“I do not need to breathe at all, Ahma.”
“Do so anyway,” Eadric instructed.
She complied.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Not entirely,” Nercamay admitted.
“Excellent,” Eadric smiled. “A little tension is good. Let us review what we have learned to date. First, that it is hard for me to remain focused if you drape yourself over me. Second, that time is limited for me, in terms of what I need to understand. Third, that distinguishing between the points of the Septiga is very difficult for me, as the fields seem to overlap so much: the poetic and the functional I can grasp easily enough; the enigmatic I can see in theory, if not in practice as I have no experience of Hellish mysteries; but discerning the subtleties between the inflammatory, mephitic, vitiating, debasing and perfidious may be beyond me.”
“That would make eight. The mephitic is synonymous with the debasing, Ahma.”
“Precisely my point,” Eadric nodded.
“Although they are unidentical in the Noniga,” Nercamay added.
“One thing at a time, Nercamay. Now, you may continue your explication.”
“The text of The Reattainment of Luminance is very abstruse, Ahma. I am not sure where to recommence.”
“Might it help if I were to make specific inquiries?” Eadric asked.
“I think it may be the only way to proceed,” Nercamay replied.
“Let us concentrate on the functional at present; Shomei has asserted on numerous occasions that her inclination is more practical than mystical.”
“I am not sure that function and praxis can be conflated in that way, Ahma,” Nercamay opined.
“You are probably right,” Eadric nodded. “It is, however, where we will look.”
“And your purpose in this is the redemption of Shomei the Infernal?” Nercamay asked dubiously.
Eadric shook his head. “No. Shomei charts her own course. And devils do not need to be redeemed, Nercamay. They are already perfect, but are trapped in false perceptions. They simply need to see.”
Time slowed to a crawl. Eadric experienced a sensation; neither entirely a flash, nor a vibration, nor an understanding; but something of each, and a certitude.
“I…” Nercamay stopped speaking; her expression relaxed, with a hint of mild puzzlement. Her breath became slow, purposeful, rhythmic. She cast her gaze around, and her eyes came to rest on him. She was serene; impassive. Eadric sat, and waited until he judged it had passed in her.
She began to shake. He stood, walked over to her, and knelt before her.
“That was saizhan,” he spoke gently.
She was bewildered. “You also…?”
“No.” Eadric smiled. “But you experienced that you and I are not different; so in a sense, yes.”
“Then this is not your natural mode of perception?”
“Arguably, it is the natural mode of perception. But remaining there is…difficult,” Eadric said wrily, and shook his head. “The Sela always abides in perfect saizhan; perhaps Nehael – I do not know. Memory of this experience may evoke powerful emotions in you. If you wish to reflect, we may end this discourse for a while. My chambers are available if you wish for privacy.”
“Would you like to…”
“No.” He said firmly. “And that temptation is now so much crueller, yet so much easier to resist.”
“I do not understand,” she sighed.
He smiled ironically. “Our relationship has changed, Nercamay. From this point, I have a duty toward you, and a responsibility for your well-being.”
“I feel no less wicked, Ahma. Your sudden concern for me is vexing.”
He sighed. “Prior modes of perception do not vanish instantly, Nercamay. Consider whether this experience was of value to you; I would contend that it was, and that it is worth seeking to repeat it. Unless there is something more pressing, you should relax for a while.”
Nercamay considered. “The Reattainment of Luminance is many things, Ahma. An argument and counter-argument; a technique or method; an entreaty; a prophecy; a solution.”
“Concerning what?” Eadric inquired.
“I believe that the book is about Shomei. About devils. About saizhan. About you.”
He swallowed.
“Do you like fiends, Ahma?” Nercamay asked.
“Far too much,” Eadric sighed.
“You understand that I have done as Shomei bid me and have not, actually, attempted to seduce you?” She asked. “That my flirtations are meant in good humor?”
“Of course,” Eadric nodded. “I play the game well enough. I mean no disrespect Nercamay, but I have met some who would put you to shame. And consider why you feel a sudden impulse to communicate the truth to me in such comprehensible terms, Nercamay; you may find that it is not unconnected with your insight.”
**
The wind was bitter; Soneillon stood on the Steeple and scowled. Carasch had alerted her to another interloper; this time, a solitary figure north of the town of Deorham, wearing a bright yellow cloak. Its form was in the region of fey; its gender, indeterminate; its progress, circuitous and unhurried.
Tozinak, she knew. The wizard seemed completely unwarded, and apparently oblivious to the danger he was in. The demoness surmised that he must be under the Cherry’s spell, although what, exactly, that entailed was unknown to her.
She invoked a potent protection, and appeared close to his location. He was crossing a bridge over a frozen stream, plodding knee-deep through the snow which had drifted there. Upon spying her, he smiled and waved, and hurried toward her position.
Soneillon held up a hand. “Wait right there. What are you doing here, Tozinak? You’ve just decided to deliver the spell to me? Color me suspicious, but I smell cherries.”
Tozinak nodded enthusiastically. He held up a bunch of ripe, luscious fruit.
“Is there no artifice to you at all?” Soneillon asked in an exasperated voice. “You desperately need lessons in deceit and guile.”
“None. I love you, Soneillon.”
Soneillon sighed.
“Here,” Tozinak withdrew a thin plaque from within his robe, and placed it upon the snow. He set the cherries upon it.
She swallowed; there must be some hidden trap. “Would you mind withdrawing a little way, Tozinak. I am feeling shy.”
“Of course, my love.” He moved back ten yards.
She approached cautiously and inspected the plate, but touched neither it nor the cherries which sat upon it. The symbolism seemed apt; the references Urgic. But all was unrealized and unfulfilled; as though some profound absence were to be invoked.
She regarded him suspiciously. “Is this the spell which Jovol bequeathed to you?”
“My transcription may contain some creative license,” Tozinak admitted. “Or even interpretative errors. But the elegance is undeniable; I am sure you will agree. I love you, Soneillon. Will you marry me?”
“I will need time to consider, Tozinak,” she raised an eyebrow. “Currently, the Ahma is my paramour. He may not take kindly to a rival.”
Tozinak seemed mortified.
“But he I am sure he will be willing to release me,” Soneillon quickly added. “Given our particular circumstances.”
Tozinak breathed a sigh of relief.
Gingerly, Soneillon touched the plaque; a profound sense of nonentity was immediately conveyed to her.
“Thank-you, Tozinak,” she said. She lifted the tablet, and allowed the cherries to slide off, into the snow. “Have you given thought to the boon which I promised you?”
He smiled hopefully.
“I will get back to you,” she nodded. How very odd, she thought. The spell had been modified; of that she had no doubt. She would examine it upon her return to the Burh, but without question it invoked an Apparition, and not a Aeon. And it was given freely; impressed upon her, in fact.
Briefly, she wondered how? No matter. More pressing events concerned her.
*
[Soneillon]: Are you done, yet?
[Mostin]: Do not interrupt me! Now I have lost it. Almost; I am finishing the aesthetics of the auditory display.
[Soneillon]: Mostin. Time is of the essence. Such details may be omitted.
[Mostin]: They may not.
[Soneillon]: Do you foresee any problems?
[Mostin]: No. Well, perhaps Nwm. He seems unsure of his commitment. Nehael’s latest avatar may be leaning on him. He has been forced to conceal certain things from Ortwine, which also does not sit well with him.
[Soneillon]: Can we find another?
[Mostin]: I trust no other, Soneillon. Shomei has offered substantial bribes to most of the Collegium. I surmise this because many are conveniently indisposed.
[Soneillon]: Can she use their power offensively against me? Would the Enforcer intervene?
[Mostin]: I believe that she would prefer not to put it to the test quite yet. But she will draw on them to augment herself and her devils. And her dragon. Heavily.
[Soneillon]: How long do I have, Mostin?
[Mostin]: That is rather difficult to predict. Futures are becoming unstable. Eadric’s interaction with Shomei is generating new catenaries.
[Soneillon]: I see.
[Mostin]: Tomorrow is the earliest that we can attempt the rite. I have selected a suitable site in an unpopulated area of Soan, in Sisperi. I have tried to keep it brief – ten minutes or so. But we will be vulnerable during that window. Punching through her wards will take tremendous focus and power. There will be a lot of backlash; and a lot of pain.
[Soneillon]: Thank-you, Mostin. That’s very sweet of you.
**
**
Shomei set her rod upon its stand, threw off the robe of meteors, and uncorked a flask of kschiff. She sank into a chair by the fire. Eadric was on a couch, absorbed in Infernal Hermeneutics.
“Where is Nercamay?” She asked.
“She is resting,” Eadric nodded toward his chambers.
Shomei raised an eyebrow, and filled a glass. “How is Infernal Hermeneutics?”
Eadric lifted his head. “For a subject so dense, convoluted and impenetrable, it is a remarkably clear and concise exposition; it touches on frameworks with which I am familiar. I might almost believe that it was written for me.”
“Good,” Shomei nodded.
“You wrote this book.”
“Yes,” Shomei acknowledged.
“How long did it take you?”
“Not too long, Ahma. I wrote it in my head while I was putting my boots on.”
“Yet there are some dialogues in which you will not engage,” Eadric observed.
“Sometimes, the written word is easier, Ahma. And sometimes, it is necessary to begin at the beginning.”
“You believe that I should read The Reattainment of Luminance myself, then?”
“Of course,” Shomei replied. “Your experience of it will differ from mine.”
Eadric groaned. “And how do you suggest I approach this most subtle of diabolic texts, given my total ignorance in matters of infernal scripture?”
“Without prejudice, Ahma. Because the enigma may speak to you, if nothing else does.”
“Do I really have time for devilish enigmas, Shomei? How long – in your reckoning – before I need to be at Galda?”
She was silent.
Eadric nodded appreciatively. “Well this is something new. Shomei the Infernal is at a complete loss for words. She will not even dissemble.”
“I resent your implication. I do not employ deceit in my dealings with you, Ahma.”
“Very well,” Eadric said. “But let us continue this line of investigation. Given the fact that you are now making military choices for the Wyrish Crown and the Temple – and I am assuming that Prince Tagur will be appointed to command in my absence – how long before Galda is invested?”
“Two days hence. If you have not returned, Nehael can lead them in your absence.”
“Can she?” Eadric asked sourly. “Whatever her individual martial prowess is in battle, Shomei – and I’m sure it is considerable – it is not the same as coordinating fifty thousand Templars, footsoldiers, bickering aristocrats, and Ardanese hooligans. Something which I’m rather good at, even if I do say so myself. I would suggest I’m already late. In my absence, I would appoint Tagur. Perhaps you would be so kind as to communicate this to the Small Council for me?”
“I have no wish to become embroiled in politics, Ahma. My goal is the Urn.”
“Yes, Shomei. That is abundantly clear. And such arbitrary lines you draw with regard to politics, when it suits you.”
“Why are you purposely seeking to anger me, Ahma?” Shomei asked irritably.
Eadric smiled. “Well, our discourse does seem to be most productive in that climate; I need to rile you to certain point, in order to stimulate moral conflict in you. I wouldn’t be a very good Ahma otherwise, would I?”
Shomei looked at him and sighed. She picked up the kschiff and two glasses, and moved onto the couch.
“Drink,” she said, pouring.
“Kasshiv is not the answer to everything, Shomei.”
“It helps,” she said. “And your consumption has not exactly diminished. What did you do to Nercamay?”
“She experienced saizhan,” Eadric replied. “She is integrating.”
Shomei shook her head. “You are an insidious influence, Ahma. You have begun corrupting my devils.”
“We touched a little on The Reattainment of Luminance afterwards,” he added.
“I’m sure she has her own perspective,” Shomei sighed, leaned back, and closed her eyes.
Eadric observed her reaction and continued. “The notion of perfection seems to be alluded to frequently; it may also have been my choice of the word perfect in the context of her particular understanding at that moment which impelled Nercamay to saizhan.”
“Such synchronies occur.”
“Although, she understood perfected primarily in terms of Urgic dignity. The Sublime Essence of the Flame.”
Shomei remained silent.
“Will you speak to me, Shomei?”
“I would prefer not to,” she smiled.
“Perhaps I should continue speculating, then? As your eyelids are closed, I will gauge your facial expressions; as you pointed out, you do lie poorly for a devil.”
She opened her eyes and glared at him. “You are relentless. That road is closed to me, Ahma. There can be no perfection, and I had not even considered my potential in those terms until I read that accursed book; sometimes my Will drives me without my full cogniscance: I am an imperfect I.”
“What is the obstacle?” He asked.
“Would you like the poetic or the functional?”
“Whichever suits you.”
“A little of each,” she said drily. “Ansus anamik ahman nihabaída. Into me, God would not breathe.”
“I see.”
“You have made your choices, Ahma; do not repudiate mine.”
“It seems I cannot,” he sighed. “Shomei, what I feel…”
“Don’t, Ahma. What you feel is merely what you feel; what you do is what you do: and that’s the point. Here.” She handed him a goblet. “Drink.”
“You are very wise, Shomei.”
“Yes, Ahma.”
They drank.
*
“I cannot readily see a solution to this problem,” Eadric sighed.
“You have certainly made things very difficult for yourself, Ahma.” Shomei nodded. “Although, I admit, on some level I am sympathetic to your efforts. You are trying to hold three truths in balance; this is no trivial task.” With a flourish, three balls appeared within Shomei’s hand: one black, one green, and one deep indigo.
She span them with a conjurer’s finesse and handed them to him one by one “You need to find a new perspective in order to resolve your trilemma, Ahma. Then you will be able to juggle.”
He squinted. “A clever analogy, Shomei, but I foresee problems. This one,” he held up the black ball, “will stick to my palm. This one,” he showed the green, “is difficult to catch. And this one,” he presented the indigo, “is apt to pursue its own trajectory, regardless of where I throw it.”
“Then you will have to concentrate very hard, Ahma.”
He looked at her. “Are you suggesting that some kind of accommodation is possible?”
“The black ball may be less kindly disposed to view things in those terms, but yes, Ahma; Nehael’s philosophy in this regard has merit,” she shrugged.
“I am incapable of such a feat,” he shook his head.
“Your frame of reference needs to change before you can make such an accommodation, Ahma.”
“And how do you suggest that I might achieve this?” He asked.
“Sovereignty would be my solution, Ahma, with Regency as an intermediate step. If you deify yourself, you will no longer be bound by conventional mores.”
“A route which you make sound so simple, Shomei.”
“I imply nothing of the sort,” she said through narrowed eyes. “But nor can I see how you can challenge Kaalaanala without it. And think, Ahma, your romantic problems will be solved: each of your women can have an avatar, and there will be no squabbling.”
He shook his head.
“Of course, Soneillon is greedy, and will probably want three Ahmas.”
“Shomei…”
“Which, at least, might fill her needs and shut her up.” She smiled and raised her glass.
He sighed. “You can be a very wicked devil, Shomei.”
“Thank-you, Ahma.” She gestured, and a door appeared in the wall beside the fireplace.
“A new chamber?” he asked.
“Yes, Ahma.” Shomei stood and picked up the kschiff.
“May I see?” He inquired.
She raised an eyebrow. “That was the general idea, Ahma.”
“Ah,” he nodded. “Shomei, I am still your prisoner.”
“Yes, Ahma. But you are drunk on kschiff; I am taking advantage of you.”
“Why now?” He asked.
“Tomorrow, I must fight, Ahma; as you said, you will need to be at Galda. It would be unprincipled for me to detain you much longer.”
“Shomei, I…”
“Don’t, Eadric. Yes or no?” She offered her hand.
He took it. The rest followed. Her tenderness astonished him.
*
Nercamay knelt. Eadric drew her knees apart – whilst carefully avoiding her gaze – held her breast-bone, and pressed in the hollow of her back, straightening it.
“Good,” he exhaled. He stood, poured himself kschiff, and sat in a chair.
“I am not sure what this posture is designed to achieve, Ahma,” the devil looked at him. “It does not seem very practical for the purpose of pleasure. I know many others, which would serve better. Unless you simply require…”
Eadric held up his hand. “It will help you concentrate. And you being over there, and me being over here will help me concentrate. Look ahead, Nercamay, and slightly down. Not at me.”
She did so.
“Place your fingertips together, thus,” he demonstrated.
“I cannot see. I may now look at you?”
“You may glance.”
She sighed and followed his instructions.
“You need to slow your breathing, Nercamay.”
“I do not need to breathe at all, Ahma.”
“Do so anyway,” Eadric instructed.
She complied.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Not entirely,” Nercamay admitted.
“Excellent,” Eadric smiled. “A little tension is good. Let us review what we have learned to date. First, that it is hard for me to remain focused if you drape yourself over me. Second, that time is limited for me, in terms of what I need to understand. Third, that distinguishing between the points of the Septiga is very difficult for me, as the fields seem to overlap so much: the poetic and the functional I can grasp easily enough; the enigmatic I can see in theory, if not in practice as I have no experience of Hellish mysteries; but discerning the subtleties between the inflammatory, mephitic, vitiating, debasing and perfidious may be beyond me.”
“That would make eight. The mephitic is synonymous with the debasing, Ahma.”
“Precisely my point,” Eadric nodded.
“Although they are unidentical in the Noniga,” Nercamay added.
“One thing at a time, Nercamay. Now, you may continue your explication.”
“The text of The Reattainment of Luminance is very abstruse, Ahma. I am not sure where to recommence.”
“Might it help if I were to make specific inquiries?” Eadric asked.
“I think it may be the only way to proceed,” Nercamay replied.
“Let us concentrate on the functional at present; Shomei has asserted on numerous occasions that her inclination is more practical than mystical.”
“I am not sure that function and praxis can be conflated in that way, Ahma,” Nercamay opined.
“You are probably right,” Eadric nodded. “It is, however, where we will look.”
“And your purpose in this is the redemption of Shomei the Infernal?” Nercamay asked dubiously.
Eadric shook his head. “No. Shomei charts her own course. And devils do not need to be redeemed, Nercamay. They are already perfect, but are trapped in false perceptions. They simply need to see.”
Time slowed to a crawl. Eadric experienced a sensation; neither entirely a flash, nor a vibration, nor an understanding; but something of each, and a certitude.
“I…” Nercamay stopped speaking; her expression relaxed, with a hint of mild puzzlement. Her breath became slow, purposeful, rhythmic. She cast her gaze around, and her eyes came to rest on him. She was serene; impassive. Eadric sat, and waited until he judged it had passed in her.
She began to shake. He stood, walked over to her, and knelt before her.
“That was saizhan,” he spoke gently.
She was bewildered. “You also…?”
“No.” Eadric smiled. “But you experienced that you and I are not different; so in a sense, yes.”
“Then this is not your natural mode of perception?”
“Arguably, it is the natural mode of perception. But remaining there is…difficult,” Eadric said wrily, and shook his head. “The Sela always abides in perfect saizhan; perhaps Nehael – I do not know. Memory of this experience may evoke powerful emotions in you. If you wish to reflect, we may end this discourse for a while. My chambers are available if you wish for privacy.”
“Would you like to…”
“No.” He said firmly. “And that temptation is now so much crueller, yet so much easier to resist.”
“I do not understand,” she sighed.
He smiled ironically. “Our relationship has changed, Nercamay. From this point, I have a duty toward you, and a responsibility for your well-being.”
“I feel no less wicked, Ahma. Your sudden concern for me is vexing.”
He sighed. “Prior modes of perception do not vanish instantly, Nercamay. Consider whether this experience was of value to you; I would contend that it was, and that it is worth seeking to repeat it. Unless there is something more pressing, you should relax for a while.”
Nercamay considered. “The Reattainment of Luminance is many things, Ahma. An argument and counter-argument; a technique or method; an entreaty; a prophecy; a solution.”
“Concerning what?” Eadric inquired.
“I believe that the book is about Shomei. About devils. About saizhan. About you.”
He swallowed.
“Do you like fiends, Ahma?” Nercamay asked.
“Far too much,” Eadric sighed.
“You understand that I have done as Shomei bid me and have not, actually, attempted to seduce you?” She asked. “That my flirtations are meant in good humor?”
“Of course,” Eadric nodded. “I play the game well enough. I mean no disrespect Nercamay, but I have met some who would put you to shame. And consider why you feel a sudden impulse to communicate the truth to me in such comprehensible terms, Nercamay; you may find that it is not unconnected with your insight.”
**
The wind was bitter; Soneillon stood on the Steeple and scowled. Carasch had alerted her to another interloper; this time, a solitary figure north of the town of Deorham, wearing a bright yellow cloak. Its form was in the region of fey; its gender, indeterminate; its progress, circuitous and unhurried.
Tozinak, she knew. The wizard seemed completely unwarded, and apparently oblivious to the danger he was in. The demoness surmised that he must be under the Cherry’s spell, although what, exactly, that entailed was unknown to her.
She invoked a potent protection, and appeared close to his location. He was crossing a bridge over a frozen stream, plodding knee-deep through the snow which had drifted there. Upon spying her, he smiled and waved, and hurried toward her position.
Soneillon held up a hand. “Wait right there. What are you doing here, Tozinak? You’ve just decided to deliver the spell to me? Color me suspicious, but I smell cherries.”
Tozinak nodded enthusiastically. He held up a bunch of ripe, luscious fruit.
“Is there no artifice to you at all?” Soneillon asked in an exasperated voice. “You desperately need lessons in deceit and guile.”
“None. I love you, Soneillon.”
Soneillon sighed.
“Here,” Tozinak withdrew a thin plaque from within his robe, and placed it upon the snow. He set the cherries upon it.
She swallowed; there must be some hidden trap. “Would you mind withdrawing a little way, Tozinak. I am feeling shy.”
“Of course, my love.” He moved back ten yards.
She approached cautiously and inspected the plate, but touched neither it nor the cherries which sat upon it. The symbolism seemed apt; the references Urgic. But all was unrealized and unfulfilled; as though some profound absence were to be invoked.
She regarded him suspiciously. “Is this the spell which Jovol bequeathed to you?”
“My transcription may contain some creative license,” Tozinak admitted. “Or even interpretative errors. But the elegance is undeniable; I am sure you will agree. I love you, Soneillon. Will you marry me?”
“I will need time to consider, Tozinak,” she raised an eyebrow. “Currently, the Ahma is my paramour. He may not take kindly to a rival.”
Tozinak seemed mortified.
“But he I am sure he will be willing to release me,” Soneillon quickly added. “Given our particular circumstances.”
Tozinak breathed a sigh of relief.
Gingerly, Soneillon touched the plaque; a profound sense of nonentity was immediately conveyed to her.
“Thank-you, Tozinak,” she said. She lifted the tablet, and allowed the cherries to slide off, into the snow. “Have you given thought to the boon which I promised you?”
He smiled hopefully.
“I will get back to you,” she nodded. How very odd, she thought. The spell had been modified; of that she had no doubt. She would examine it upon her return to the Burh, but without question it invoked an Apparition, and not a Aeon. And it was given freely; impressed upon her, in fact.
Briefly, she wondered how? No matter. More pressing events concerned her.
*
[Soneillon]: Are you done, yet?
[Mostin]: Do not interrupt me! Now I have lost it. Almost; I am finishing the aesthetics of the auditory display.
[Soneillon]: Mostin. Time is of the essence. Such details may be omitted.
[Mostin]: They may not.
[Soneillon]: Do you foresee any problems?
[Mostin]: No. Well, perhaps Nwm. He seems unsure of his commitment. Nehael’s latest avatar may be leaning on him. He has been forced to conceal certain things from Ortwine, which also does not sit well with him.
[Soneillon]: Can we find another?
[Mostin]: I trust no other, Soneillon. Shomei has offered substantial bribes to most of the Collegium. I surmise this because many are conveniently indisposed.
[Soneillon]: Can she use their power offensively against me? Would the Enforcer intervene?
[Mostin]: I believe that she would prefer not to put it to the test quite yet. But she will draw on them to augment herself and her devils. And her dragon. Heavily.
[Soneillon]: How long do I have, Mostin?
[Mostin]: That is rather difficult to predict. Futures are becoming unstable. Eadric’s interaction with Shomei is generating new catenaries.
[Soneillon]: I see.
[Mostin]: Tomorrow is the earliest that we can attempt the rite. I have selected a suitable site in an unpopulated area of Soan, in Sisperi. I have tried to keep it brief – ten minutes or so. But we will be vulnerable during that window. Punching through her wards will take tremendous focus and power. There will be a lot of backlash; and a lot of pain.
[Soneillon]: Thank-you, Mostin. That’s very sweet of you.
**
**
Shomei set her rod upon its stand, threw off the robe of meteors, and uncorked a flask of kschiff. She sank into a chair by the fire. Eadric was on a couch, absorbed in Infernal Hermeneutics.
“Where is Nercamay?” She asked.
“She is resting,” Eadric nodded toward his chambers.
Shomei raised an eyebrow, and filled a glass. “How is Infernal Hermeneutics?”
Eadric lifted his head. “For a subject so dense, convoluted and impenetrable, it is a remarkably clear and concise exposition; it touches on frameworks with which I am familiar. I might almost believe that it was written for me.”
“Good,” Shomei nodded.
“You wrote this book.”
“Yes,” Shomei acknowledged.
“How long did it take you?”
“Not too long, Ahma. I wrote it in my head while I was putting my boots on.”
“Yet there are some dialogues in which you will not engage,” Eadric observed.
“Sometimes, the written word is easier, Ahma. And sometimes, it is necessary to begin at the beginning.”
“You believe that I should read The Reattainment of Luminance myself, then?”
“Of course,” Shomei replied. “Your experience of it will differ from mine.”
Eadric groaned. “And how do you suggest I approach this most subtle of diabolic texts, given my total ignorance in matters of infernal scripture?”
“Without prejudice, Ahma. Because the enigma may speak to you, if nothing else does.”
“Do I really have time for devilish enigmas, Shomei? How long – in your reckoning – before I need to be at Galda?”
She was silent.
Eadric nodded appreciatively. “Well this is something new. Shomei the Infernal is at a complete loss for words. She will not even dissemble.”
“I resent your implication. I do not employ deceit in my dealings with you, Ahma.”
“Very well,” Eadric said. “But let us continue this line of investigation. Given the fact that you are now making military choices for the Wyrish Crown and the Temple – and I am assuming that Prince Tagur will be appointed to command in my absence – how long before Galda is invested?”
“Two days hence. If you have not returned, Nehael can lead them in your absence.”
“Can she?” Eadric asked sourly. “Whatever her individual martial prowess is in battle, Shomei – and I’m sure it is considerable – it is not the same as coordinating fifty thousand Templars, footsoldiers, bickering aristocrats, and Ardanese hooligans. Something which I’m rather good at, even if I do say so myself. I would suggest I’m already late. In my absence, I would appoint Tagur. Perhaps you would be so kind as to communicate this to the Small Council for me?”
“I have no wish to become embroiled in politics, Ahma. My goal is the Urn.”
“Yes, Shomei. That is abundantly clear. And such arbitrary lines you draw with regard to politics, when it suits you.”
“Why are you purposely seeking to anger me, Ahma?” Shomei asked irritably.
Eadric smiled. “Well, our discourse does seem to be most productive in that climate; I need to rile you to certain point, in order to stimulate moral conflict in you. I wouldn’t be a very good Ahma otherwise, would I?”
Shomei looked at him and sighed. She picked up the kschiff and two glasses, and moved onto the couch.
“Drink,” she said, pouring.
“Kasshiv is not the answer to everything, Shomei.”
“It helps,” she said. “And your consumption has not exactly diminished. What did you do to Nercamay?”
“She experienced saizhan,” Eadric replied. “She is integrating.”
Shomei shook her head. “You are an insidious influence, Ahma. You have begun corrupting my devils.”
“We touched a little on The Reattainment of Luminance afterwards,” he added.
“I’m sure she has her own perspective,” Shomei sighed, leaned back, and closed her eyes.
Eadric observed her reaction and continued. “The notion of perfection seems to be alluded to frequently; it may also have been my choice of the word perfect in the context of her particular understanding at that moment which impelled Nercamay to saizhan.”
“Such synchronies occur.”
“Although, she understood perfected primarily in terms of Urgic dignity. The Sublime Essence of the Flame.”
Shomei remained silent.
“Will you speak to me, Shomei?”
“I would prefer not to,” she smiled.
“Perhaps I should continue speculating, then? As your eyelids are closed, I will gauge your facial expressions; as you pointed out, you do lie poorly for a devil.”
She opened her eyes and glared at him. “You are relentless. That road is closed to me, Ahma. There can be no perfection, and I had not even considered my potential in those terms until I read that accursed book; sometimes my Will drives me without my full cogniscance: I am an imperfect I.”
“What is the obstacle?” He asked.
“Would you like the poetic or the functional?”
“Whichever suits you.”
“A little of each,” she said drily. “Ansus anamik ahman nihabaída. Into me, God would not breathe.”
“I see.”
“You have made your choices, Ahma; do not repudiate mine.”
“It seems I cannot,” he sighed. “Shomei, what I feel…”
“Don’t, Ahma. What you feel is merely what you feel; what you do is what you do: and that’s the point. Here.” She handed him a goblet. “Drink.”
“You are very wise, Shomei.”
“Yes, Ahma.”
They drank.
*
“I cannot readily see a solution to this problem,” Eadric sighed.
“You have certainly made things very difficult for yourself, Ahma.” Shomei nodded. “Although, I admit, on some level I am sympathetic to your efforts. You are trying to hold three truths in balance; this is no trivial task.” With a flourish, three balls appeared within Shomei’s hand: one black, one green, and one deep indigo.
She span them with a conjurer’s finesse and handed them to him one by one “You need to find a new perspective in order to resolve your trilemma, Ahma. Then you will be able to juggle.”
He squinted. “A clever analogy, Shomei, but I foresee problems. This one,” he held up the black ball, “will stick to my palm. This one,” he showed the green, “is difficult to catch. And this one,” he presented the indigo, “is apt to pursue its own trajectory, regardless of where I throw it.”
“Then you will have to concentrate very hard, Ahma.”
He looked at her. “Are you suggesting that some kind of accommodation is possible?”
“The black ball may be less kindly disposed to view things in those terms, but yes, Ahma; Nehael’s philosophy in this regard has merit,” she shrugged.
“I am incapable of such a feat,” he shook his head.
“Your frame of reference needs to change before you can make such an accommodation, Ahma.”
“And how do you suggest that I might achieve this?” He asked.
“Sovereignty would be my solution, Ahma, with Regency as an intermediate step. If you deify yourself, you will no longer be bound by conventional mores.”
“A route which you make sound so simple, Shomei.”
“I imply nothing of the sort,” she said through narrowed eyes. “But nor can I see how you can challenge Kaalaanala without it. And think, Ahma, your romantic problems will be solved: each of your women can have an avatar, and there will be no squabbling.”
He shook his head.
“Of course, Soneillon is greedy, and will probably want three Ahmas.”
“Shomei…”
“Which, at least, might fill her needs and shut her up.” She smiled and raised her glass.
He sighed. “You can be a very wicked devil, Shomei.”
“Thank-you, Ahma.” She gestured, and a door appeared in the wall beside the fireplace.
“A new chamber?” he asked.
“Yes, Ahma.” Shomei stood and picked up the kschiff.
“May I see?” He inquired.
She raised an eyebrow. “That was the general idea, Ahma.”
“Ah,” he nodded. “Shomei, I am still your prisoner.”
“Yes, Ahma. But you are drunk on kschiff; I am taking advantage of you.”
“Why now?” He asked.
“Tomorrow, I must fight, Ahma; as you said, you will need to be at Galda. It would be unprincipled for me to detain you much longer.”
“Shomei, I…”
“Don’t, Eadric. Yes or no?” She offered her hand.
He took it. The rest followed. Her tenderness astonished him.
*
tleilaxu
First Post
saizhan and dasein are not unidentical?
Knightfall
World of Kulan DM
Well, that was an interesting development... but not unexpected.
carborundum
Adventurer
Hmmm, three Eadrics would be a solution 
At least someone's thinking out of the box.
I like Shomei - I don't want Mostin and Soneillon to hurt her :-(
At least someone's thinking out of the box.I like Shomei - I don't want Mostin and Soneillon to hurt her :-(
Bloodcookie
Explorer
Many interesting points in this one. Touching on just two:
Under the doctrine (such as it is) of saizhan, is gnosis a prerequisite for salvation? Or only for the deity's personal concern? Perhaps only a prerequisite for the potential salvation of fiends?
This seems to imply that saizhan is one route to a form of ontic advancement that Shomei doesn't find necessarily unacceptable, though (because of her willful rejection) it is now lost to her. So the I can survive (and become empowered by?) the shattering of the perception of differentiation? Now I'm thinking of parallels with Nietzsche's 'Apolline and Dionysiac', and think I need to go lie down...
Rikandur Azebol
First Post
Hmmm, three Eadrics would be a solution
Should have to be kept separate, since they would hate each other's guts for stealing "his" girlfriend and being a fake of "himself". Clone shaeningans FTW.
To be honest I like Soneillon better than Shomei, mostly because Shomei is in three instances, including her simulacra evolving in different aspects.
As for Eadric ... he should get all three of his girlfriends into threesome and make sure each have enough "good time" to be too tired for arguing.
