The inside of a Blood Council Sanctuary was not at all like Arrafin had imagined. She had thought everything would be severe, blood-red to match the famous gowns, formidable and uncompromising.
Instead, as she passed through the gate, she found herself in what looked like an elegant garden, carefully tended trees and pools with low buildings linked by graceful breezeways. A square tower with a pointed roof rose four stories towards the rear of the estate, while near at hand a wide verandah encircled what looked like the largest structure here. The girl who had opened the gate for Arrafin gestured towards this building, and, sandals crunching on gravel, the Naridic girl made her way as indicated.
"Blood Sister Torokan wishes to see this book. She is very interested to meet you, Arrafin."
Arrafin smiled. Her head whirled with questions that she tried to contain until she could meet this Blood Sister Torokan. She observed the girl leading her across the entrance yard. She was of course Lohanese, with dark, slanted eyes and black hair piled up in a tight bun on her head. The distinctive Blood Council robe, crimson and stiff and rolled like a tube, looked uncomfortable to Arrafin's eyes, complicated and fussy, but it was very beautiful. It made the Blood Council woman walk with quick, short steps. She caught Arrafin staring at her and smiled, causing the Naridic girl to blush with embarrassment and look away.
"So, Blood Sister Torokan? And you're...?"
"I am Blood Sister Kagarasa. My name is Yasami."
"Yasami. I'm Arrafin. But you know. I told you. Before."
Arrafin looked around, lips pursed.
"So this is a... Sanctuary, right? It's, um, nice."
"Watch your step."
The floors were polished, dark wood and it seemed to Arrafin that only her footsteps made any noise. Yasami seemed to glide along without making any sound whatsoever other than a faint swishing from her robe with each precise little step.
Yasami stopped them next to a portion of blank wall that had no distinguishing characteristics that Arrafin could determine. The Lohanese woman reached out and pulled the whole wall aside, and Arrafin blinked in surprise at the elegant room suddenly revealed beyond. Kneeling in the center of the room, icy and forbidding, sat another Lohanese woman, practically identical to Yasami. Arrafin tried a smile, and was encouraged to have it returned.
"I am Kimiko Torokan, High Blood Sister of the Pavairelle Sanctuary. I would like to see this book you have found, Arrafin al-Fasir beni Hassan. Come in."
"Okay."
*****
Elena found Pavairelle overwhelming. The biggest city she'd ever been to was Fort Burnoll, which was nowhere near the size of Pavairelle. As she tried to navigate her way back to the del Maraviez house from Katir Shoran's tenement, she stopped at regular intervals, trying to orient herself with what she knew of the city.
To the south lay the Inner Sea. Or, at least, the docks. Pavairelle sat at the tip of a peninsula extending southwards into the Inner Sea, so technically the sea lay on three sides of the city, but only to the south was there any access to the water. Elena currently stood in Wharf District, which lay near the docks. The city sloped up away from the docks, rising to two significant heights: Temple Hill, near the center of the city and Palace District, on the west side, away from Wharf. She could peer down a street lined with tall, leaning tenements and see Temple Hill rising in the distance. If she kept heading that way, and bore a little to her right, she ought to come across Duelists' Street, the wide boulevard that wound from the Gate (on the north side of the city) around the base of Temple Hill to peter out somewhere nearby in Wharf District. If she could find Duelists' Street she'd be okay -- the del Maraviez house was a straight line up Temple Hill from there.
Elena sighed and set off down a street that looked promising, hoping that it wouldn't suddenly turn into a dead end of opium houses and suspicious thugs. A party of red-skinned Kishak soldiers pushed past, bristling with spears and slim longswords, drawing angry glances from nearly everyone on the streets. An insult was shouted from an upstairs window but the soldiers continued on their way without looking back.
She had never seen such a multitude of races collected together. Saijadani, Pavairellean, Kishak, Naridic, Hinsuan and bright-haired folk she took to be the famous Shaeric pirate types all mingled together in an endless riot of humanity. Elena winced as she inhaled incautiously. An endless riot of stinky humanity. She fought her way to wide cross-street and looked up at a distant trumpetting call. Looked way up.
Far above, on the end of a long slender neck, the tiny, placid head of a gargantuan sauropod drifted into view. To Elena's amazement and delight, the great beast came lumbering up the street, the ridge of its back three stories above the street. She stared in awe as the great walking mountain of dinosaur approached, people milling about its legs without fear of getting stepped on. From either side of the beast hung wooden platforms only a few steps above street level, like gargantuan saddlebags, crowded with passengers who jumped on and off as the immense creature rumbled along.
She realised it was a form of transportation and, unable to resist, clambered aboard as the creature stomped past. A young man asked her to pay a fare and once that was taken care of, she sat happily with her feet dangling over the side, watching Pavairelle drift by.
*****
Etienne opened his eyes and groaned.
"Bright light."
He knew that ceiling. That was Marques' ceiling. He was in the del Maraviez house. He wasn't dead.
"I'm not dead. What happened?"
Etienne's body had taken a series of hard knocks in the last little while: stabbed by the Keyad'ar they'd fought with Laughter of Stones, transported through some shadowy realm to Pavairelle, and then... he remembered the book, Arrafin's face and then...
He tried to sit up and his body told him not to bother.
"I'm not dead."
He tilted his head up as the door opened and a tall, broadshouldered man walked in. It took Etienne a few seconds to realise he was looking at Isaac, only instead of his trademark floppy hat and unkempt travel garments, he was wearing an expensive suit of silk and brocade, with his mustache and hair carefully groomed, his boots polished to a brilliant shine and no cigar in sight. Etienne frowned.
"Okay, maybe I'm dead. What's going on?"
Isaac scowled.
"We're going to a party. Some Countess or other is holding some shindig and Marques thinks we should go. Stupid idea, if you ask me."
"But nice suit."
Isaac's scowl deepened.
"And nobody's seen Arrafin all day. She went this morning to talk to the Blood Council about that book, and she hasn't come back yet. I'm worried. And nobody knows what's happened to Elena."
"Where's Nevid?"
"Oh. Nobody knows where he is, either."
Isaac shrugged, indicating a complete lack of interest in Nevid's whereabouts. Etienne nodded.
"Arrafin went to the Blood Council? What for?"
"Apparently the book had Lohanese writing in it. She thinks they might translate it for her."
"Yeah, if they don't turn her into a bug or something just for asking."
Isaac stared at the young Kishak for a second.
"Well, I don't know," the young Kishak protested, "Maybe they all have magic powers. You saw that one over... wherever we were. With Laughter. She had magic powers. Maybe they all do."
"Laughter said that was some sort of lizard-person thing."
"Well, she looked like a Lohanese hottie to me."
"Even while she was disembowelling you?"
Etienne grimaced at the memory.
"Yeah, okay, she was a total cow. But hot."
"We were talking about Arrafin."
The door opened and the slender Naridic girl edged in.
"Hi. Are you okay, Etienne? Marques said you might be awake by now. Hi," she waved at Isaac, not recognizing him, "I'm Arrafin."
Isaac closed his mouth and frowned, uncertain how to react. Arrafin smiled at him and crossed through the afternoon sunshine to a chair by the head of the bed where she sat and gave Etienne a once-over.
"They said it was poison. How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine. Never better. After I've thrown up a few dozen times, I'll be good as new. What happened at the Blood Council?"
"Oh. Yes. I took the book there."
Isaac sighed.
"We know, Arrafin. What did they say? What is that book all about?"
"Hi, Philip. I didn't recognize you. Why are you wearing all that? Should I call you Isaac?"
"Call me anything you like, Arrafin."
Arrafin chuckled.
"It'd be funny if I called you 'Loretta', though, wouldn't it?"
She snickered to herself for a few seconds.
"Yeah. Okay. Well, how come you're wearing... that?"
Isaac gritted his teeth.
"The Blood Council, Arrafin. What did they say?"
"Oh, yeah. It's magic. The book. It's full of magic spells. But they're math. You see, Kimiko, that's High Blood Sister Kimiko Torokan, actually she's really nice although those robes must be awfully uncomfortable, but I guess they get used to it. Anyway, magic."
"Magic."
"Magic."
"Yeah, magic. She says she'll have it translated for me. I'm going back tomorrow so Yasami can help me with the first part. They're all really nice."
"You're going to learn how to do magic."
"Magic."
"Exciting, huh? Where's Elena?"
*****
Elena would never admit it, but the idea of dressing up in del Maraviez-sponsored finery thrilled her. She wasn't much for having nice dresses, being far too impractical for daily wear, but the chance to dress up in something pretty and show off a little bit was making her grin to herself.
Her new outfit pleased her. Dark mahogany silk in lovely long drapes, as she twirled the ends of the skirt rose a little and then settled back down sensibly. Consuelo, Marques' elegant wife, beamed warmly.
"Oh, my dear, that does look lovely."
The older lady turned to the sewing mistress next to her and murmured, "Her shoulders are so broad -- do something about that, will you?"
As the servant nodded and bustled off, Consuelo smiled again at Elena and turned to where Arrafin regarded her new dress with much less enthusiasm than Elena. She offered a brave smile but couldn't conceal her discomfort in the fancy clothing and tugged at a sleeve. Consuelo's smile, likewise, lost some of its gloss and she turned to another servant.
"Good heavens, there's nothing to her at all. Doesn't she eat?"
To Arrafin, she spoke more loudly.
"My dear, maybe we should try fitting that again. It's just not... quite... "
Arrafin sighed and tried to think about magic. And math. And how comfortable her old desert robes were.