As the Gondoliers and Kenji bickered back and forth over trivialities, I meditated upon our situation.
THAT THE MANTRA THAT HE CHANTS WHILE "MEDITATING" SOUNDS REMARKABLY LIKE SNORING IS, OF COURSE, MERELY A FANTASTIC COINCIDENCE.
And, naturally, I came to a brilliant solution. We knew that one Dr. Mephisophocles, of the University of Narayan, had had...dealings with Nadir. Dealing of a decidedly hostile nature, according to what we'd been told. University politics can be quite remarkable unpleasant at times, and apparently Nadir's quest to obtain the Chair of the Department of Mind's Eye by force had been one of those times. And his unauthorized quaffing of demon’s blood form the university’s treasured "Goblet of Ire" hadn't helped matters. Surely Mephisophocles would be more than willing to help us locate the Shiraci miscreant and bring him to justice.
By which I mean "set him afire".
MOST OF WHAT BURNE SAYS CAN BE TRANSLATED THUSLY.
And so, after the Gondoliers provided us with their very interesting toys -- including a mechanical griffin with attack and in-flight drink service capabilities that was very nearly as brilliant as my own creations, and a Gate-Equipped haversack that I naturally claimed for myself -- we set out for the University.
Of course it wasn't that easy. Mephisophocles had gone missing, as we were informed by a young female student who was busy nailing a letter of, how shall I out this, questionable appropriateness to his office door.
BURNE READ THE NOTE AS SOON AS SHE’D SLUNK AWAY. HAVEN’T I MENTIONED HIS VOYUERISTIC STREAK BEFORE?
When questioned she identified herself as Dalenda Wrothchilde, of the Narayan Wrothchilde’s, an old-money clan of family of pirates-turned-winemakers. She had been trying to track the good Doctor down for some time, to no avail. It was entirely possible that he had, to use to common parlance, "skipped town" simply to avoid her...but really, how likely could it be that such a mundane answer would be correct?
FOR ONCE, I HAVE TO AGREE WITH HIM.
Fortunately, we had another resource to draw upon. A colleague of Mephisophocles, Professor Gaspard Obeserai Illigitamo, head of the Department of Antiquities. A man we had, in fact, encountered some weeks previously, when he was investigating the trail of our -still- missing madman. Illigitamo had some small psychometric talent, allowing him to "read" object and determine the location of their owners, and could likely help us track down the missing demonologist.
Illigitamo, as it turned out, was concerned about Mephisophocles, and was quite willing to help. He'd seen the man before he left, and he'd been wearing an iron headband that should have made him immune to Nadir's powers. Clearly, he'd been expecting trouble. And this had been some weeks ago, with no sign of Mephisophocles since.
We did, of course, need to obtain something with a personal connection to Mephisophocles, for Illigitamo to work his Art upon. Easier said than done, raiding a demonologist’s office, but not impossible for a man of my talents.
THIS PARTICULAR TALENT WAS "STAND BACK AND SHOUT USELESS ADVICE TO EVERYONE ELSE." HE'S VERY GOOD AT THAT.
We found two possibilities, after a bit of work. The first was a document, a contract of some sort between Mephisophocles and Erebus. Or someone calling himself Erebus, at any rate. Oddly, Illigitamo could glean nothing from it. Happily, an elixir that we uncovered proved to be suitable, and Illigitamo promised us results as quickly as he could provide them. Which would be in 24 hours, give or take. The poor man was cursed with a slow and thorough mind ill-suited to matters of higher learning.
I COULDN’T MAKE THIS SH*T UP.
And so we returned to our various homes for the evening, to rest and prepare. I did so by stuffing various items into the so-called "Haversack of Holding", but keeping in mind that its other end lay somewhere in a fraternity house, I forbore including any of my more explosive belongings.
SURPRISINGLY, EVEN BURNE'S STUPIDITY HAS ITS LIMITS.
We rendezvoused just after dawn, and met with Illigitamo. He told us what he'd been able to learn, which was actually quite helpful. Mephisophocles, it appears, was in a place called the Fissure of Leaves -- or possibly "Lives"; Illigiamo was uncertain -- somewhere in the Lassantes Wastes a few days travel northwest of Marimbra.
Some research was done, some questions asked, and a tentative map was scrawled on the back of a piece of parchment.
ACTUALLY IT WAS ON AN OLD COCKTAIL NAPKIN OF MALLUS’.
And we set forth for Marimbra.
THERE WAS MUCH REJOICING. IN NARAYAN.
It was a short journey, owing to the convenience of the Gates and the brilliance of the Empire's city planners, before we found ourselves in the Great Bazaar. Which really isn't all that great. Much too sandy for my liking, for one thing. And far too many foreigners, for another. These are, alas, the prices that one must pay for tolerance.
NOT TO MENTION CHEAP, FINELY MADE MAGICAL GOODS.
Which is something else that's wholly overrated, while I'm on the subject. In point of fact....
FOR THE SAKE OF EVERYONE'S SANITY, I SHALL EDIT OUT THE NEXT TEN
MINUTES OF SEMI-COHERENT RAMBLING AND PROVIDE A CONCISE SUMMARY: BURNE IS A BASTARD.
...and that's why they should all be killed, and the desert turned into a vast plain of faintly luminescent glass. But enough of my digression; I shall have to write a pamphlet on the subject at a later date.
I PITY THE BIRD THAT WILL EVENTUALLY DEFECATE ON IT.
I sent Rackhir and Kenji, both of whom harbor an entirely unreasoning fear of invisible assailants, off to find something to alleviate their terror, like unwatered wine or a prepubescent boy. Meiji I instructed to find us some means of transport across the desert. He returned with several camels, a lamentably primitive form of transportation that entirely lacks any sort of rocket assistance. With some misgivings, I agreed that they would suffice. Barely.
And thus, off we went into the Wastes. The temperature was agreeably scorching, but the vista left much...well, everything to be desired. Sand is so terribly tedious; glass is really much more interesting and attractive. And allows one to build up an impressive static charge, if so inclined. Someday, someday....
We passed through a pair of small towns -- first Qub, and then Tal Salaam, neither of which was really worth the time that I've just spent mentioning them, really. We did, however, learn a few things in the latter settlement, thanks to Meiji's habit of babbling at anyone willing to stand still for a few moments.
Tal Salaam was a walled town; whether to keep the desert out, or the inhabitants in, I dare not guess. None of my concern in either case. But the town was under the protection of a man named "Ali", who'd made his fortune acting as a buying agent for "The King of Thieves" who lived somewhere in the Wastes. A man who purchased a surprising amount of goat, for reasons Ali dared not guess.
He was a pleasant enough fellow, I suppose, for a foreigner. We spent the night in his abode, treated to a rather tasty feast, except for Rackhir. He, mired in paranoia, insisted on spending the night outside, under the stars.
We left, well-fed and well-rested, with the dawning of the next day. With at least another full day of travel ahead of us.
