Art of the Veil

[Selerian]

13 - A narrow road

If the Council is useless, there's no reason for it to exist.
If the Council is useful, it means it has power, and thus it's too dangerous to exist.
This is the fine line we walk, since our organization regrouped after the Moonbreaking. Little more than a prison, at times. Little more than a graveyard, at others.
The Alliance will never trust us. The Agency hates us, because they need us. The magical factions hate us because they fear us.
We must accept endless humiliations and restrictions, just to survive. We're watched all the time, we have no allies and countless enemies.
For all that, the Glass Tower stands. And we watch out for each other, because no one else will.​

• Archmage Doruk, Secretary of the Council of Loyal mages, in an unofficial speech to the Inner Council.

{Althea}

These Thaucon agents are growing on me, for several reasons.

First, thanks to all their physical training, they're so much fitter than all the smart, sickly kids in the Council. I was afraid to break half the mages I dated, back there.

As for behavior, they aren't as bad as I expected. They're bigoted, but not more so than most people. They're pig-headed military guys, who love saluting and saying yes sir and bash their heads against walls to show how tough they are, but surprisingly, some of them can hold a decent conversation.

Frankly, they're friendlier to me than I expected. Well, my team is. Team Green looks like they'd tear my guts apart if they could, but given their mage is Jaeleri, I can't entirely blame them.

Kaelich has a pretty face, an amazing smile, and damn, xe has gorgeous abs. Pity for the total lack of brain.

I wish Cerical wasn't such a prude, I barely got a good glimpse of her in the bath, but she looked pretty amazing, with all that smooth muscle and graceful movements. Abyss, she'd be a ten out ten if she had facial expressions beside disgusted and glowering. She made a really funny face when I kissed her, though.

And, I got side-tracked. My point was – ThauCons aren't as bad as I expected, but that doesn't mean I should share everything with them. What they don't know won't hurt their small military brains.

Also, ignorance is the best defense, when demons are involved.

I check the time on my tablet. Half past midnight. My teammates are sleeping like good soldiers. Time to do a mage's work.

I'm not doing anything illegal. But I'll still be happier if no one asks me what I'm up to. Also, the less people are awake while I talk about demons, the better.

What will I tell Kaelich, though, if he finds traces of my activities on some log - or more likely, if xe gets up to pee and notices my bunk is empty? I'd hate lying to xem, and Sorivel is suspiciously good at spotting lies.

Well, that's a problem for tomorrow. And it won't be a problem at all, if I sneak out and come back unseen.

I fumble to wear a night robe and slippers in the gloom. It's hard to suppress the reflex to summon Else-light, but that would wake at least Sorivel – he's a light sleeper.

I cross the room, and since I'm a focused, serious person, I only steal a quick glance at Cerical's bunk. There would be room for two, if we squeezed, but it wouldn't be comfortable. Also, we'd be really fucking obvious, and I bet she wouldn't like that. I think South Zelenians only mate in secret caves in the desert, reachable only by camel.

Where do people get some privacy in this base? I mean, twenty-odd people live here, a good half of them young, with nothing to do but watch the snow and fuck – I won't believe for a second they rent a hotel room every time they need some privacy.

It doesn't matter, right now. I open the door, which tries to creak horrifically, because this whole base is crumbling. But sound is a bunch of green circles in the Else, like a stone thrown on a pond. It's easy to grab it and make it go away, so the door opens in perfect silence.

Our dorm has decent heating, but it's fucking cold outside. How can a base with its own nuclear reactor be so cold? One more piece of brilliant design from Landfall. In the Capital, they think a cold winter means you might want to wear a shirt.

As soon as I close the door, I reach into the Else, shape its essence into a fine, wonderfully warm powder, and spray it all over my skin. It took me a week of frantic trial and error to make this spell work – it's not really my path, but once I discovered I'd be sent to Vorok, I realized it was a matter of life or death. I'm not going to wear their stupid thermal pajamas, and I'm not going to suffer the cold like some mundane.

I don't meet anyone on the way to the prison cells – only cold, dilapidated concrete corridors which look desperate for some maintenance. The cells are underground, and the only way in or out is a long, narrow stair leading to a heavy steel door.

There are no guards by the door: it's in the Base Core, so external personnel can't come in, and the agents won't waste their limited personnel to guard it. No mage could ever breach it, after all.

As I go down the stairs, a pressure like a stiff breeze pushes against my heating spell. Soon, it becomes so unstable I must let it go, shivering and cursing at the sudden chill. It's the Theta Disruptor – I can see it in the Else, it looks like a maelstrom of chaotic white energy, stripping my magic away like a furious wind. I could keep up the heating spell, with a lot of effort, but it's not worth it, and it could trigger alarms.

I reach the huge steel door and swipe my wrist at the pad. After a moment, it flashes green – I don't have authorization to open the cells, but I can visit them.

Slowly, ponderously, the thick metal door retracts into the ceiling. It's made of steel and silver, kept open against gravity – it's designed to slam shut in case of tampering or power outage. Given the sorry state of this base, I hope it won't glitch and close while I'm crossing. If I died in such a stupid way, I'd have to cross back from the Else to haunt the maintenance teams.

The door closes back behind me, and I take a deep breath, fighting the feeling of oppression. I can leave at any time, I only need a quick swipe of my wrist.

It's hard to fight the feeling of being trapped, though. I'm not used to being in a place where I can't leave on my own terms, and I don't like it at all.

But still, I have a job to do. And in the end, it's a useful reminder: no matter how likable my teammates are, they're always one step away from being my jailors.

I forced myself to visit the prison before, but by the Abyss, I hate it. It's basically a single corridor, lined with silver-and-steel bars on both sides.

Beyond the bars are small, bare rooms, almost like cages. Those closer to the entrance are larger – by cells standard, so not large at all. They're two meters by three, enough for a bed, a toilet and some room to stretch.

Those are the low-suppression cells, used more often as disciplinary punishment for agents than for actual criminals. Only one is occupied, by a sleeping Team Red agent who took part in a drunk bar fight.

The high suppression cells are much smaller – partly to efficiently use the small region of maximum suppression, partly because ThauCon just likes treating mages like shit. None of the laws governing prisoner rights – or any other rights, really - apply to mages.

Vakris' cell is barely larger than his bed. He can lie on the thin mattress or stand, but not much else. Opposite the door, there's a sink and a squat toilet. There are rings on the wall, obviously for chains – at least they've not been used.

The teen is asleep, curled in a ball. He's wearing a sweater way too large for him – I'm pretty sure it's Kaelich's. They didn't even give him a bedsheet. The prison is cold enough that breath mists.

Fuck ThauCon in general, and Sareas in particular. Yeah, Vakris is technically a rogue. But he's obviously harmless, and he'll be punished enough in re-ed, why by the Abyss do ThauCon need to be as nasty as they can? They lash at kids and petty criminals, feel great and righteous about it, and forget that they walk side by side with someone who could strip the skin from their bodies with a gesture.

I take a deep breath. I knew what the Agency is. I knew of re-education camps and Memory Square. I still made my choice, for better or worse. But it's different, seeing the ugly truth in front of my eyes. All the more when I had a part in it.

"Vakris," I call.

The boy startles awake, jumping on his bed, and scrambles away from me.

"Don't worry," I say. "I'm here to help you."

It's almost true.

"Please, I…" he starts. "Will you let me go? I'll run away. I'll disappear. Never use magic again. I swear."

"Sorry. I can't do that," I say. It's easier to squash his hopes because I literally can't free him: only ThauCon agents can open the cell doors.

Not that I would do it anyway. I think.

"You're the mage, right?" He asks. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to hit you, I…"

"I know," I say. Did I look that young at seventeen? Abyss, he looks like a terrified child. I definitely never looked that helpless, after age three.

"I'll go to re-ed, right?" He asks, his voice breaking, "That's why the officer wanted the aggression on record."

I grimace at the mention of that dick Sareas. "That was his intention, and it's the law. But I think you have a way out."

"I can't go to re-ed," he says, "I got punched even in my regular school. They'll kill me."

Yeah, the boy does look like a bully magnet. Maybe he'd seem less vulnerable if he weren't terrified and half-frozen, but I mean, he wanted to go to art college.

I catch myself thinking he should man up or go agender, but that's old people's bullshit, and hypocritical too, since I'm hardly the perfect, poised and emotionless lady.

"I can help you avoid re-ed," I say. If you help me answer a few questions, I should add.

Well, fuck that. I can't change ThauCon. But I won't use a terrified boy's future as a bargaining chip. I'll help first and ask later.

"Listen carefully," I say. "You'll go to trial. Don't bother explaining that you didn't mean to assault us, no one will care. Actually, it's better if you say it was a conscious decision – say you thought Cerical, the girl with the blade, would kill you, and you defended yourself. Then, say you've realized how dangerous your magic is, and you're deeply repented, and wish to pledge yourself to service with the Council."

"But I don't want to go to the Council," Vakris squeals. "And wouldn't I go to re-ed first anyway?"

I try to remind myself he's in a terrible situation, so he has a reason to be so whiny.

"In theory, yes," I explain, "on paper, it makes no difference whether you choose tattoos or Council service. But the Council is eager for recruits. They'll pressure the tribunal to allow you to serve immediately, so that you can be trained as young as possible. Since anyone with a brain can see you didn't mean to go rogue, the tribunal will give in. After Council training, you can still change your mind and get the tattoos. Council training isn't anything like the camps – honestly, it's a nicer place than most regular high schools."

The Council Academy is boring as fuck, and full of angsty, whiny teenagers. He'll love it.

Vakris nods, eyes full of frantic hope. Then he frowns.

"Why doesn't everyone do this, then?" He asks.

Abyss. A bad time for him to have intelligent thoughts.

"Well, it wouldn't work if you had actually meant to go rogue. Or if you had hurt anyone," I say. "It's much easier to salvage your case, given some leverage."

I could stop here. But we're fucking enough with him – I owe him the full truth, at least.

"Also," I add, "your power is strong, and unusual. The Council wants you, badly."

There's no Path of Calling, according to the books. Because most books were written before the Moonbreaking. And the Council isn't going to teach anyone how to summon demons.

But the power is there, talked about in whispers. And I'm pretty sure Vakris has it.

"I… ok," he says. "You know I don't want to be a mage, though? Will they really let me get my tattoos and leave?"

"The Council doesn't force anyone to be a mage. Morals aside, it would be monumentally stupid. After control training – you need that even with tattoos, for your safety – you'll be free to go."

He won't go, of course. Very, very few people reject magic, after they get a good taste of it. And that's twice as true for mages of real talent – like Vakris, or me.

"I… thank you," he says, looking dazed. "Don't the agents know you're here? Won't they hear this in some recording?"

I give him a little smile. "There's no recording in the cells. ThauCons might learn that I came here, but nothing else." I'm pretty sure that's because ThauCons don't like being recorded when they beat up prisoners, but no need to tell him that.

Vakris looks like he's about to burst into tears. Abyss, this one will be bullied even by the nerds in the Council Academy. "I… thank you. Really," he says.

"You can help me, too," I say, trying not to sound too eager. "Help us all. Can I ask you a few questions?"

He immediately goes rigid, his eyes wary.

"You don't have to answer me," I add, trying to sound reassuring, which I'm shit at. Well, I'm still better than Cerical, when she tried to be reassuring she sounded like a killer robot. "The strategy I told you will work anyway. But you could help me, and other people like you."

"What do you need to know?" He asks. He rubs his hands, blowing on them, then clasps them together inside the way-too-long sleeves of Kaelich's hoodie. His breath mists as he speaks. Abyss, I should have brought him a blanket. Except giving him any item without authorization would break several regulations and could have bad consequences for us both.

Right now, I truly hate the Agency.

"You've said you saw things in the Else, and heard their voices," I say. "Look – this place is safe. There's silver everywhere, and there's a Disruptor – a machine that fucks up the Else. You can speak about demons here."

He starts breathing faster, his shoulders tense.

"They… they…" his voice breaks, and I half-expect him to faint. But then he recovers, takes a deep breath, and looks into my eyes.

He might be a whiny loser, but he faced multiple demons, with no training and no guidance, and survived to tell the tale. I shouldn't judge him hastily.

"There were many. But three got close to me," he says, forcing out every word. "One was… I can't explain it in words. But it swam, circling me, like a shark. One flew, and its wings were… Lost Stars, it makes no sense, but they were made of silence. And the other one was like a person, but where its face should be, there were only stars. It didn't move, but it kept getting closer, and closer, and closer. It was next to me when you came in."

I shiver. I hate all the mystic, can't-explain-in-words babble about the Else, which some mages love so much.

But I can't entirely ignore it. Because sometimes, the mystic, unspeakable things come out of the Else and eat your face.

"They can't come here," I reassure him - really, really hoping that's true. "And with the Council, you'll be safe. The Glass Tower is a magical fortress. No human or demon can reach you there."

Well, except for the ThauCon division keeping an eye on us, with a nuclear weapon ready to annihilate the fortress in case a mage looks at them the wrong way.

"I couldn't get away from them," Vakris goes on, as if he didn't even hear me. "Whatever I did, they kept getting closer."

"Those things are giant, eldritch assholes," I say. "But… last question, I swear. You say they spoke. Did the words make sense? Do you remember any?"

He nods. "They made no sense at first. But then… they weren't really words. But I understood. The thing that swam kept telling me I had to call it, to call its name, it said it would help me, it said it would kill me, it said… it said its name, and it wasn't made of words, but I think I could say it if…"

"Lost Stars, don't fucking say it!" I yell, and barely stop myself from reaching through the bars and putting a hand over his mouth, "Abso-fucking-lutely don't say it, don't think about it, and change topic now. What did the other ones say? Unless it was on the same line, then just shake your head, and go back to sleep."

I'm babbling, and I know I scared the kid, but fuck, I'm breathing heavily now – this boy is a really talented Caller, if he could find an Unspeakable Name without even trying. And I must send an urgent note for the Council to immediately teach him control. At least, now I'm sure he won't go to any reeducation camp – silver tattoos or not, he's too fucking dangerous to go anywhere but straight to the Glass Tower.

"I… uh," he says, looking more surprised than scared. "I thought the name thing was like a dream, not something that would work – ok, I'll change topic, don't be mad at me. The demon with wings, it spoke in silences. Sorry, I know it makes no sense, but that's how it was. It asked me who I was. It asked me where I was. What age of the world this was, and I had no clue what it meant – not that I answered it anyway. In the end it said… it said its lord would help me. Would make me great and powerful, if only I opened a way. Then it kept flying closer, and closer, and you arrived."

All the Officers help me, this is bad. Two verbal demons, from the deep Else.

"What about the third?" I ask.

"It spoke almost like a human," Vakris answers. "It… it said it was trying to help, but its words made no sense. It kept telling me to reverse the way-binding, but what does that even mean? Oh, and it asked a question, several times, before that. It asked if I was with the Lady in White."

 

[Selerian]

Sunday special: The Magical Factions (Part 1 - the Teraich Family)

extract from the Council's guide for field agents (agents assisting ThauCon teams)


INTRODUCTION:

The Agency for Thaumological control, in its operational doctrine, is focused on rogue mages, and tends to treat all organized magical factions in the same way, as if the difference between them were minor.

While the simplicity of this approach might be appropriate to the limited cognitive and tactical resources available to typical ThauCon agents, Council field agents should know better.

For a well trained mage, dealing with most rogues is trivial, and a good field agent should limit themselves in assisting their Mundane colleague. We actually suggest that a field agent should limit their intervention to what is strictly necessary, even when they could easily overpower the rogue.

This serves two purposes: first, it allows Mundane agents to feel like they achieved their mission by themselves, thus improving morale. Second, it minimizes the usage of the field agent's power. As previously discussed, this must always be a priority concern,for multiple important reasons.

However, all but the most incompetent ThauCon teams will occasionally cross the path of the Magical Faction - a label that includes every magical organization of significant numerical and magical strength. When that happens, Mundane agents can't be expected to hold their own, unless the encounter is part of the very rare ThauCon operation which actually succeeds in locating and attacking one of the Factions.

Field Agents must be ready for such a confrontation, and must be prepared to engage an enemy as powerful as they are, or more, and equally skilled in the use of magic.

It is therefore imperative than every field agent familiarizes themselves with the most important magical faction, so that they can rapidly understand who they are fighting against, and what kind of behavior can be expected.

It should always be kept in mind that numerous minor magical organization exist, such as local criminal cartels, or loose and ever-shifting association of rogue mages. Thus, a Field Agent should document themselves about the organized magical activity in their specific region.

However, the greatest danger is constituted by the emissaries of the few large, powerful magical organizations.

The first supergroup of magical factions we shall discussed is the most numerous, and the one most often coming in direct contact with the Agency:



THE SYNDICATES

It should be kept in mind that "the Syndicates" aren't in any way a monolithic group, and they don't consider themselves as being in any way part of a single organization. It's a label assigned from the outside to all the criminal groups which make use of magic to further their goals, and are motivated by simple accumulation of wealth and power, instead of more nefarious purposes.

The Syndicates typically compete with each other, and fight one other bitterly. However, they're all enemies of the Council and the Alliance, and have been known to forge temporary alliances against us. This is especially relevant since the formation of the Cartel, a formal alliance of the three most powerful Syndicates active in the continent of Karesia. This is an unprecedented fact, which might fundamentally change the dynamic of our long-standing fight with the Syndicates.

Overall, the Syndicates have access to a great number of low level mages, often with imperfect control and poor understanding of their path. However, Syndicate mages often specialize deeply in simple, but effective spells. Together with their typical lack of regard for morals and collateral damage, they can prove dangerous opponents in the field. While they usually try to avoid provoking the Council directly, they've been known to strike viciously and lethally at field agents, often attempting to surprise them when unprepared and wearing Limiter Bracers in their time off. A mage working on an active Syndicate investigation should be extraordinarily careful, not only during their work hours, but whenever outside the realty safety of a ThauCon base.

In this section, we shall briefly present the most powerful Syndicates, starting from the three which formed the Karesian Syndicate Cartel, presently the most powerful criminal organization on Refuge, and probably the largest group of organized magic users outside the Council's purview.



Clan Teraich:

A comparatively old Syndicate, and one of the three main members of the Cartel.

Clan Teraich started from a single family active in the Riverlands, which started aggressively recruiting rogue mages, offering protection in return for service.

The titular Teraich family lost their excl control of the organization, which is now ruled by a cadre of local bosses, known as The Commission. Remarkably, despite its heavy recruiting of rogue mages, most of the members in the Commission are mundane, making it the only major Syndicate run by mundanes.



Behavior: the Teraich Family acts as a typical criminal cartel, profiting from protection rackets, smuggling of people and goods, identity trafficking, and various form of magical manipulation of legitimate economical activities. Even for an organized criminal group, they're known for extreme and disproportionate use of violence - where their organization takes root, their enemies are tortured and gruesomly killed, often together with their families an associates. While they take pains to stay hidden where their power base is weak, in their core territories, they're often more powerful than the official local government, and their will is enforced by fear and constant threat of violence.

Regions of Activity: The Family is present, to some extent, in most of Karesia, with some branches in Northern Zelenia.

Its stronghold used to be in the Eastern Riverland, especially in the Green River Delta. While they're still present there, as the Riverland Police became more effective in contrasting them, they gradually shifter their activities to Andvor, especially in the northern half of the country. Andvorian authorities proved less effective in dealing with them, and the Family took root both in the many small town dotting the Andvorian Heights, where they reached a concerning degree of control of the economical and political life. From there, they spilled to Southern Vorok and Kalester. It appears they've been unable, so far, to establish a foothold in the Five Peaks.

Powers: Teraich mages specialize in combat magic, and developed their own, undeniably effective tradition for magical combat, with ample usage of wide-area Ruin spell which no responsible magic would employ.

A Field Agent expecting to fight the Teraich Family should be ready to protect themselves and their team from powerful Ruin and Motion attacks, with little or no notice. They must also be ready to fight in a populous area, or near delicate infrastructure, because Teraich Agents are known to force confrontation in places where ThauCon and Council agents are reluctant to make full use of their weapons.

Recommendations: The Family has access to a worryingly high number of rogue mages, and they're effective in training effective Novices and Initiates. Even Field Agents of Adept level or above should be wary of entering a battle against multiple Teraich initiates, given their mastery of highly destructive spells.

However, Teraich mages are often unstable, so the organization has few mages of level 3 and above, and not as effectively trained. Mundane ThauCon agents are quite proficient at dealing with low-level mages, so the Field Agent should focus on recon and protection, and let their Mundane colleagues confront Teraich Mages.

Once confronted by powerful forces, Teraich Clan either counterattacks aggressively, or temporarily retreats, hoping to return once the Agency's attention wanes. Given the Agency's limited ability to consistently police territory, this tactics is dishearteningly effective.

In dealing with Teraich Families, therefore, a Field Agent should both be extremely wary of surprise attack, including during off hours, and suggest to actively pressure the group, arresting as many of their members as possible before they have the chance to flee and disperse.

Overall threat: The Teraich Family is responsible for a disproportionate number of civilian deaths in magical confrontations, exceeding all other factions combined since the Faceless Army stopped its terror campaign. They're also the third most common cause of combat death for FIeld Agents, behind the Faceless Army and Sacred Song Society.

However, it should be remembered that the absolute number of Field Agents dying in battle against the faction is very low, especially compared to those caused by loss of control, or Incursion-related. The faction, while violent and ruthless, is a nuisance, and their low ceiling for magical ability prevents them from becoming anything more. The Council's strategical commission holds that it could fully defeated in less than a decade, if a large-scale task force involving both ThauCon and the Bureau A Police were put together, with proper funding and organization.

So far, every attempt from the OWA parliament to set up such a force has failed.



[TO BE CONTINUED]

 

[Selerian]

The cold has seeped to my bones, and I need some privacy, so I walk past the dorm and head straight for the baths. My teammates are sleeping, so I have it for myself. I draw a thread of essence from the Else to weave a movement ward across the hallway, so I'll know if anyone comes.

I leave the lights off, walking by the glow of a small cube of Else-glass. Some types of magic are easier in the dark. Some mages use sensory deprivation tanks, but I find them too boring.

I strip by the pool and sink into the blessedly warm water. Where I grew up, on the Golden Coast, the sea was almost this warm in summer. I spent many lazy nights floating in rocky pools with my friends, watching the stars and the broken moon. My parents always got angry, they said it was dangerous, that a demon could fall on us.

It makes me laugh, now. If a demon fell into my sleepy village, what difference would it make, being on the beach or inside our flimsy wooden houses? There's only one real protection from the horrors of this world - power.

Enough for reveries. It's late, I'm tired, and once again, I've a job to do. I close my eyes in the half-darkness, and let myself float freely in the warm water.

The Council taught us a score of focusing rhymes, of mind tricks, of paradoxes which should ease the mind into the Else.

None works as well as the forbidden, whispered rhyme that most of us end up using. Keidesek's own words, or so it's said.

I claim the gift of magic,
I claim the Art of the Veil.
My eyes shall see the Else,
My hands shall tear the Veil.

Green light seeps into my vision, outlining the pool, the baths, my own body. I see the beautiful pattern of small waves bouncing against the pool's sides, I see the mesmerizing convection spirals of hot air above the water. Walls are harder to distinguish, they're too still, but soon I can make them out as faint, translucent outlines. The Moon is just below the horizon, a roaring, gaping red wound in the green infinity.

I expand my consciousness into the Else, and soon I see the flickering sparks of dozens of minds - the people living in the base. Most of them are dim, sleeping, but some give off the colorful motes of dreams.

I can't tell mundanes from each other, I was never good at it. But I recognize Sorivel's mind, faintly blue and bound by black chains. And the mages, of course – a yellow spark for Loannu, a fainter blue for Kadosh, and the blazing silver of Za Ruik. I never see Jaeleri, he's probably too weak – Forgotten Enemy, I'd doubt he's even a mage at all, if I hadn't seen him use minor spells.

I take long breaths, letting my perception expand more and more - trying to ignore the ice-cold black of all the silver in the base, and the confusing maelstrom of the theta suppressor. I begin to perceive things outside of this room, of this base, too. The tiny green streaks of snow falling, the small movements of birds and rodents scuttling in the dark.

I don't usually need all this preparation to enter the Else, of course. I can Reach in an instant - by now, it's second nature. But todayI must plunge deeper than usual, and it pays to do it properly.

I was one of the first in my class to be able to Reach the Else at will. But one of the last to learn how to dive into its depths. My representation of the Else is one of movement and shapes, not the mind-trippy shit so many mages try to describe. It's convenient, and reliable – but it's always hard to convince myself there's a Down which is not a simple direction.

The world is lies and shadows,
but I have seen the light.
past time and words and death,
I reach and claim my right.


Immediately, fatigue seeps into my bones, as if I'd been walking for hours. It's one of the reasons I make sure to keep fit – until I'll disincarnate, magic will drain my physical energies.

I repeat Keidesek's rhyme, again and again, focusing my perception on the deep currents of the world. The Else tinges a darker green, and the walls of the ThauCon base disappear – everything is now the vast, lazy currents in the sky and below the ground. And the Moon, of course, brighter than ever, surrounded by a host of multi-colored stars.

"I'm Althea Zoanni. I'm Althea, Initiate of the Council of Mages. I'm Althea, student of Master Reiel. I'm Althea, who walks the Hidden Roads. I'm Althea, who seeks Master Reiel."

I picture my mentor in my mind – tall and stern, her body long turned to golden light. With a piercing stare, always judging, but with a half-hidden smile.

There's a road in front of me now, a twisting ribbon of dark green glass. I'm floating in the hot pool, unmoving, but that's far away – in the Else, with bare feet of green essence, I touch the green road, and walk.

A wind is blowing, cold and angry. It carries voices, too, but I ignore them.

I never encountered a wind this strong, in the Else. It watches. With every step, I'm more tired, and I feel more exposed.

"I'm Althea Zoanni, Student of the Path of Motion, student of the Path of Glass. Initiate of the Council of Mages," I say, like a challenge now. "I walk the Hidden Roads. I seek Master Reiel."

If my teacher isn't sleeping, she might not sense me. I was never much good at Else-casting. And since it's technically mind-magic, the Council barely teaches it.

The wind blows stronger, and stronger. Cracks appear in the road in front of me, cube-shaped bits of glass break off and are carried away.

This is not a place for doubts.

"I'm Althea Zoanni," I repeat, "The world is lies and shadows, but I have seen the light. I walk the Hidden Roads, and they shall take me to my mentor."

Confident, sure of my power, I take a step forward, and the damn road has better hold me, or I'll be angry.

The winds quiets a little bit, cracks stop spreading along the glass road. I keep walking, and who cares if I'm getting tired and heavy, I can sleep in tomorrow.

There are emerald clouds above and below the road, now – it's normal to see them, deep in the Else, but these are dark and heavy, like storm cells. There are things inside, moving in and out from the mist.

Not my problem. I keep walking.

One of the clouds is closer now, though, its fuzzy border almost touches the road. And something inside it is pushing out, bristly tendrils reaching for the road. I feel its pressure against my mind, a whisper at the edge of my hearing. I collect my power, gather light into my hands…

"Go away, Nameless," a voice calls, calm and sure and vast as the sky. "Go back into the depths, or I'll draw you out and cast you beyond the Last Horizon."

A different road crosses mine, now. This one is golden, narrow and straight. A woman made of gold essence stands where our two paths meet.

The thing in the cloud shrieks with fear and anger, then its tendrils withdraw, and the wind abates. There's perfect stillness, now. Even the clouds are dissipating, as Master Reiel walks to meet me.

She made most of the effort, of course. I wouldn't be able to walk the Roads beyond the province of Rakavdon, let alone all the way to the Glass Tower. But after all, she's older and vastly more powerful than me - a Master of the Path of Folding.

We walk until we stand in front of each other. She's a statue of golden glass, glowing with power, and yet stable, perfectly controlled. It's like watching the sun given human form. She even wears a perfect copy of a Council dress uniform, buttons and all – the best I manage is a shapeless green tunic.

"Your coherence isn't very good, Althea," she says, looking critically at the cracks on my road. "I can tell you haven't practiced projection lately. Your power has grown. But your focus is still erratic."

"It's good to see you, Master Reiel," I say.

Her mouth tugs a tiny bit upward.

"Likewise, Althea. Even if I still think you should come back to the Tower."

"You don't mind getting my reports, though," I point out.

She sighs. "It's such a hard balance. Sending you into the world, where you can be useful. Or keeping you here, where you're safe and can grow your power. I'll use you where you are. But I'd have kept you here longer, if it were up to me."

She stops and gazes at the sky around us – now a mix of green and gold. She doesn't look happy.

"The Else is troubled," she says. "More so than I expected. I don't think it's safe for you to walk the Roads anymore, even in projection."

"Yeah," I say, "that thing was going to eat me raw, wasn't it?"

"You could probably have fought it off," she answers "But I'd rather not test that hypothesis. And next time, you could encounter something worse. Until the Else calms, we'll have to stick to Material communications, limiting as that is."

"Well, that's what I was going to report about, anyway," I say. "It looks like we have a problem with d-"

"Althea," she interrupts me, raising an eyebrow.

"With denizens of the else," I go on. Smooth.

I report what Vakris told me, almost word by word. I have a good memory for horrible stuff.

"Hm," Master Reiel says, thoughtful. "We'll definitely snatch the boy. He's both dangerous and useful. But even if he's clearly a natural Conjurer, he couldn't have called two demons by accident under normal conditions."

"Two? Not three?" I ask.

She raises an eyebrow. "Is your wit degrading already, far from our halls of learning?"

She's joking, but not completely. Master Reiel is convinced everywhere outside the Glass Tower is a wasteland of ignorance, populated by barbarians.

"The third one wasn't a demon at all, was it?" I say.

"That's very likely," she answers, pleased. "Some demons are verbal and can be, or appear, quite reasonable and humanlike. But it's much more likely that the kid's accidental Calling attracted an Else-walking mage. Probably one of the Faceless Army. It's even possible they were trying to be helpful."

"How close did the Faceless have to be, for that to happen? In the real world, I mean?" I ask.

She sighs. "It's the Material, Althea. This is the real world. And that question can't be answered in any meaningful way, because they were either projecting, possibly from very far, or physically walking the Roads, in which case they were there, and nowhere in the Material. But for the limited purpose you meant with your question – that mage was likely acting within the borders of Rakavdon."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. My master could never give me a simple answer without lecturing me about the wording of the question.

"So, the Faceless Army is in the city," I say. "Any idea what they're doing here? They've no history of activity in Rakavdon, unless ThauCon is more wrong than usual."

"ThauCon is correct on that assessment," Master Reiel says, looking lost in thought. "As for what the Faceless were doing – even ThauCon should know it, by now. The Faceless Army and the Syndicate Cartel are fighting. Still covertly, but less and less subtly. We've confirmed fights in Valanes, Korasdon, River's End and Landfall itself."

"And what about the Lady in White? They were asking about it, after all." I ask.

"We have no sure report of her involvement," she says, "but we never do until it's too late. I wouldn't give it too much credit, though. The Faceless Army is obsessed with her, they'd swear she's hiding under their bed."

"So, what are the Faceless, or the Syndicates, doing here?" I press on.

"What anyone does in the dreary, frozen north," Reiel answers, with a condescending little smile. "Looking for precursor relics. Or less likely, Thaumocracy ruins."

I nod. Even ThauCon Realizes that - relics are the only special reason for magical factions to care about Rakavdon. "So are they fighting for some specific relic?"

Master Reiel doesn't answer at first. She looks around, slowly, then opens her arms. A ring of lively flames surrounds us. It looks like real fire, except for the perfect golden color.

"I'm not sure," she sighs, tired. "Whatever the two factions are doing, I think they're stirring the Else. ThauCon is investigating, but they'll share as little information as they can."

"We're not being exactly forthcoming, either," I point out.

She looks at me, cocking her head.

"Less than three months as a Supporting Agent," she says, "and already you take their side? Remember they're not your friends, Althea. It will save you pain later."

For a moment, I want to protest – it's not a matter of friendship, it's a matter of sharing vital information with allies. But whether I'm right or not, my master will never see the Agency as anything but an enemy.

"What about the other two entities?" I ask.

"The demon of silence," she considers, slowly, "is especially concerning. We've met such beings in the past. They're intelligent and dangerous. They serve some demon lord from the deep Else."

"Great. How do I kill one?"

She laughs. "Of course that's what you'd ask. The best I can tell you is that they get weaker in noisier, crowded places. They're made of the space between words and thoughts. But truly, should you encounter one in the Material, avoid it. You're not ready."

"I'm here because I was deemed ready for service," I say, a little annoyed.

Master Reiel raises an eyebrow. "You're ready for the occasional rogue and to deal with unstable teenagers," she says. I'm going to protest, but she stops me with a hand. "You're powerful and resourceful, Althea. But you're also twenty, and not even ad Adept yet. Any agent of the magical factions, or any demon structured enough to speak in words, will be more powerful than you, possibly by a wide margin, and more experienced. You must be aware of that. Don't cross the line between confidence and recklessness."

Maybe I should bite back my protest, but fuck it, I'm no longer in the Glass Tower. She can't give me detention.

"They may be stronger," I say, "but I have the guys with silver bullets on my side."

"And you should never, ever rely on them," Master Reiel says, cold. "Because you never know, in the end, who their bullets are meant for."

 

[Selerian]

14 - A mirage of power

Why don't mages turn themselves in, you ask? Why do they run and fight and join the factions, when they'd just need to accept tattoos, or the council's oversight?
You hunt children like dogs, beat them up when you catch them, and instead of teaching them control, you traumatize them into inability to use magic.
Then the Alliance offers its oh-so-generous choice. Leave your families, leave your friends, give your whole life to the Council, to serve a master that spites you.
Or have your arms tattooed, no matter how much it hurts, being severed from the Else, no matter if it cuts away a part of your mind – you're alive, you should be grateful.
Magic is well and truly dangerous. But pointless cruelty won't mend the sky, it will just swell the ranks of the Syndicates and the Faceless Army.
For too long we accepted the folly imposed by the Alliance. We sacrificed our own children to appease Landfall, hoping you would see reason.
This ends now.​

• Saevin's declaration of independence, beginning the Zelenian Uprising.

"Wow, Mom always told me to stay away from the airship port," I say, "she told me it's full of thieves and…" I stop, abruptly, as I realize what I was going to say.

"Yeah, and Kalestrans," Daravoi says, rolling his eyes. "And I heard there are mages, too. What's the world coming to?"

I never learned the trick to consider what I'm going to say before I start speaking. He doesn't look angry, though.

Also, I'd never really realized that Mom used Kalestran as a disparaging term. I never had anything against them, but I… kind of didn't think about Kalestrans at all before meeting Daravoi.

In the skyport, however, you hear more Kalestran than Vorokan or Fallish. At first, Kalestran sounded to me like people endlessly clearing their throat and chewing gravel, but after listening to it for a while, I realize I can sort of get the meaning if I focus.

We're in the far periphery of the city - we got ourselves bicycles, since we're not taking the metro anytime soon. I hadn't used a bicycle since I was a child, and with good reason – I froze halfway to death and my legs hurt like the Abyss. Some of my classmates rode bicycles for fun. There's something wrong with people. Especially sporty people.

The skyport is cool, though. Mama was being a snob as usual. It isn't anywhere as seedy as I expected, it's just a large, chaotic open air market. And the airships are cool, seen up close - I never realized they were so big. When one flies above us, it looks like the sky got a new roof.

Most of the port is made of temporary, brightly colored tents, half shops and half warehouses, with only a few, squat concrete buildings built around mooring towers, where airships do boarding and loading. It's a strange view – like the market is bristling with spires, and airships come and go like slow, wobbly flying whales.

The tents mostly sell weird, ill-assorted stuff that comes from abyss-forsaken villages: ugly wood-carved furniture, a thousand decorated glass devices to smoke vapors, clothes which look like they might be made of actua…l animal hair? Ew.

People bustòe about, scanning the merchandise and arguing over prices. It's… like a mall, just very chaotic and open-air.

I'd enjoy wandering the market for a while, gaping at the airships, except it's so fucking cold. Snow started falling as we arrived, and a horrible, icy wind is blowing, finding every weak spot in my second-hand thermal shirt.

"Could we take an airship without ThauCon spotting us?" I ask Dara, glancing at the huge, dark blue airship that's being moored to a building. I really want to fly on one, now.

"In theory, there's a custom check," he answers, "but it's a joke, I could get us on a ship with no problems. But I'm not kidding when I say they hate mages, they'd drop us mid-flight if they found out what we are. And anyway, where would we go? ThauCon is everywhere."

I shrug. "It's nice to know we have the option."

I never traveled on an airship - they're mostly for cargo, so they take winding routes through Officer-forsaken little villages. Mama used to say they were only for poor people and criminals, but Mom and Big Sis usually retorted something about an important economic function.

"So, where's the tent for super-illegal stuff?" I ask. "Also, why don't Kalestrans use concrete buildings? Is it a… cultural thing?"

Daravoi takes a deep breath. "Of course we have concrete buildings in Kalester, you idiot, but you can't load one on an airship. Anyway, we have an appointment. Follow me, and please don't speak. Everyone can tell you're Vorokan, pasty as you are, but if you shut up, they could think you're an okay Vorokan."

"Why am I even here, now that I think of it?" I ask. "Like, I'm happy to come, but I have a feeling you'd be better off without me."

Daravoi looks taken aback – I'm pretty sure he didn't even consider going alone. He doesn't like being alone. But in this case, it might have been better.

"Because if something happens, you can make a Lie and let us run away," he says, and it sounds a lot like he's rationalizing on the spot. "I… you know. My magic only does one thing."

That is true. Daravoi is good at fire and disintegration, while I'm ok at the former and shitty at the latter. But he tried the other spells in my book, and barely managed to move small objects or scry a room away. Fire and destruction seem the only things that are easy for him.

We move to a wide, low concrete building, with small tents all around it like colorful mushrooms. Electric carts, full of stacked metal crates, come in and out in a continuous stream. A few of the tents are shops, but most look more like impromptu offices, with people warming their hands on heat lamps and checking deliveries.

Daravoi checks his phone, takes a long pause, then walks to a smaller tent leaning against the buildings left side, its exterior striped blue and gold.

It doesn't look much of a smuggler den. It looks like a simple shop selling rare teas and herbs, the kind of stuff that grows in stupid places in the mountains.

"It doesn't look like the kind of shop that sells super-secret books of magic," I say out loud. "Not that I'm an expert on smugglers."

Daravoi clenches and unclenches his fists. He must be nervous. "Don't talk unless I ask you something," he whispers. "Really. If I say… moon it's time to use a Lie and go away."

We approach the tenth. A teenage girl is playing with a tablet behind the counter. She has her sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing off intricate tattoos, and has the same sandy hair as Dara.

Daravoi starts speaking Kalestran, and I can follow only in bits - something about a special mixture he had ordered. The girl doesn't seem surprised at all, and after something I can't follow, she gestures to us to come in.

On the back of the tent there's a door, wide enough for a cart, leading into the concrete warehouse. The girl dials a number on the door's pad, and it slides open. She calls someone, and gestures for us to come in.

Inside, it's a labyrinth of poorly lit, crisscrossing concrete corridors and numbered metal doors. Carts, some automatic and some human-driven, go in and out carrying crates. I don't like the place at all – it looks like something out of a horror sim. A cheap horror sim, where some monster kills horny teenagers in unnecessary bloody ways. Even worse, there's no heating, and it's barely warmer than the outside.

We follow the girl for three turns, until we meet an unsmiling person in their thirties who greets us, gives us a hard look, and has a short, terse conversation with Daravoi. I recognize Vorokan and stranger. Xe has tattoos in an unusual, flowing script - one is agender, but I can't parse the other.

Whatever Daravoi answers xem, xe must be satisfied, because xe guides us deeper into the maze of corridors, to a small room. Xe opens the metal door, and inside, instead of the stacks of boxes I've seen in the other rooms, is a plastic table and four chairs.

Most importantly, there's a heat lamp. The cold was seeping into my bones, but inside, the room is pleasantly warm. Two people, an old man and a younger woman, sit in the two chairs opposite ours. I guess this is their confy-room-for-super-secret-encounters.

"We're told you want something," the young woman says, in Vorokan. I can't place her accent, but it sounds fancy, like the foreigners who come to visit Big Sis from time to time. She and the old man have conveniently generic tattoos, marking gender and sexual orientation, but they're half-hidden below their collar, as it usually happens with foreigners.

Daravoi looks at a loss for a moment, he starts speaking Kalestran, then stops and switches to Vorokan too.

"We're looking for a book," he says.

"A strange thing to search for in the black market," she says, "have you tried the datasphere? Or a library?"

Daravoi looks straight at the woman. "Can we cut the bullshit? You know what book I'm looking for."

Wow, he told me not to speak, and then he acts like this? But the woman doesn't look offended. She nods.

"Do you know, though?" She asks. "That book is costly, and useless to most people."

"We have money," Daravoi says, sounding confident for a homeless kid three weeks away from starvation. "We'll find an arrangement. What's your price?"

We have about nine-hundred credits equivalent in gray accounts, plus a precious stone worth tens of thousands. Well, Daravoi has it.

But illegal or not, how much can a book possibly cost? I've never owned a paper book except for school, I've seen them for sale in heaps for a handful of credits, and they can't cost much more than comics.

"I don't think you know what you're asking for," the woman says, sounding annoyed. "And since you're not one for politeness - are you a mage, boy? If you aren't, forget about it, go home and have a nice life."

Is she a mage, I suddenly wonder?

I can't risk using magic. But I can still peek into the Else, as long as I stop there, without Reaching.

I let my eyes unfocus and my mind wander. At first I had to close my eyes to see the Else, but it's getting easier and easier. Beautiful blue light floods the world, and while I still see the people in front of me, now it's like watching a small, framed scene, just a small part of the web of things that could be.

Many other worlds spiral around us, realities that I could pull closer… but no, it's not a time for Lies, or for using magic at all.

I focus on the truth - except I look deeper than what my eyes can see, I look at the true world beyond the Veil. Minds are sparks, Daravoi's is brighter than most, even without using magic. I can see a small dark red ruby in his mind, and I see him as he is, but also what he could be, would like to be…

Cool, I'll have to try this again – but now it's not the time to get distracted. The woman and the old man don't have any color on them, just bright blue sparks for their minds.

There's something strange, though. There's something cold and black, near them, Like a black hole trying to suck my power. It burns with cold. Just looking at it, my vision of the Else wavers. What is that?

I force myself to focus back on the conversation.

"… our time. So, do you have it or not?" Daravoi says.

How can I tell him something is wrong? We never managed the mind-communication spell described in my book.

The woman waves a hand. "It's not something you keep in storage. We can procure it, but it's costly."

No one reacted to me peeking into the Else, so I guess my eyes didn't glow blue. Even without Reaching or Summoning, the Else can give me useful information – I never realized that before.

"I should at least see proof, before giving you any money," Daravoi answers the woman.

Again, the world in front of me becomes one vignette out of many. This time, I look at the branching worlds – it's hard to see clearly what they show, they break and change and reform as I watch, and sometimes Daravoi is different, or we're in another place. In most of the worlds, the two smugglers talk to us. But I follow a line unfolding in the future, and I find more of that cold, dark nothingness.

In another line, I glimpse the woman standing on her feet. There's something in her hands, but I can't see it clearly, it's a hole in the Else, a void. It's dark and cold, and yet it burns.

This is really wrong. I must tell Daravoi.

"We're not asking for the moon," I say, even if I missed a few beats in the conversation. "We just want to make sure you can really find a magic book."

Daravoi freezes for a moment, then gives the smallest nod. Thanks the Forgotten Home – I'd never have caught the hint in his place, let's be honest.

I focus on the woman who did most of the talking. Her mind glows bright in the Else, a snarl of light and flashes of thought. There should be a way to read minds, but my useless book specifically avoided describing mind-magic.

"As I said," she speaks slowly, her voice cold, "you'll have to wait a while more."

"You're clearly wasting our time. We're leaving now," Daravoi says, getting up.

I look around, without moving. Walls are nothing in the Else, but the farther I look, the more confusing the branching possibilities become. Still, I can tell there are three people very close to us. They must be in a room nearby, or in the corridor outside. They all have that blackness with them.

"You really should wait here," the woman says, her tone openly menacing now. "See, that's the thing about the magic-related market. The real money isn't in books or other items."

"Really insightful!" I grin, even if I've no fucking clue what she's saying. "I'm sure we'll have the chance to do business in the future. But now we're leaving."

I reach for a different world - one where this really was a shady meeting between buyer and seller, and not… whatever the fuck it actually is. A world where the two people in front of us actually meant to let us go.

I can't find any. This was never about a book sale.

Sweat starts running down my back. I can still do this. It's not a world that can be, but one that could have been, one that makes sense. I look at the branching worlds from a different angle, one where the line connecting them are fuzzy and green, and possibilities are more malleable. I find, and at the same time make, the world I'm looking for – one where we all nod at each other politely, if a little tersely, and Dara and I leave. I Reach for it with my power, and Summon it into existence.

"Could you show us the way out?" I ask. "We wouldn't want to get lost."

She opens her mouth to speak, then frowns.

We just had a friendly business meeting. A powerful mage knows how to navigate the underworld, and wouldn't fall for a trap. We simply didn't reach an agreement yet.

Yes, I had a lot of meetings like this. Terse words in a secret place, some haggling. Then you go home, and no one tries anything strange, because in the shadow world reputation is worth more than credits.

I pull that Lie into the world, with all my will and my power. It could be, after all.

"Yes, of course," the woman says, sounding dazed. "Wait, I'll tell the guys…"

She frowns. At her side, the old man shakes his head, as if trying to clear it.

"As I was saying," she adds, speaking slowly and squinting at me. "The real money isn't in selling books."

"Really, I know the market is bad," I say. Understanding. She's just doing her job, and now she'll let us go. "No hard feelings."

She walks to the door, looking like someone desperate to remember something.

The old man turns to me, his gaze way too focused "The real money," he says, "is in the mage trade."

My mouth dries and sweat soaks my thermal vest as I finally understand: we're not clients, we're the goods. These people are bounty hunters.

The moment I realize that, my Lie flickers, and the woman turns to face me. She reaches into her pocket for the cold, dark thing I can't see in the Else.

"You are…" she says, furious, "fucking with my mind."

With a strangled sound, she gets a knife out of her pocket - the blade shines a bright gray. Silver.

I lose focus for a moment, the possible worlds slip through my fingers, and I forget everything but fear.

"Liar," the woman growls. "I'll cut your throat for this."

"No need," the old man says, putting his arm in front of her. "Xe'll be hanged, and we'll be paid handsomely for it." He's rummaging in his pocket, and I know things will go even worse, very soon.

Daravoi raises his hand, but hesitates, looking at me.

I'll die. Big Sis was right, as usual. I'm so going to die, and I had it coming. Lost Stars, I just want to curl into a ball and wait until they kill me, or hang me, or whatever.

But it's not time to be afraid. I must be someone who wouldn't be afraid.

A powerful mage would have no reason to be scared. So, I'll be that for a while.

And this, I realize, is also exactly what I should make them believe. I must scare them.

But I'm not scary at all. I'm at best annoying, magic or not.

Except… Daravoi didn't think that. He made me add that rule, don't be a mind-controlling Sim villain.

This looks like a good time to break that rule. What if I was a powerful mage - a dangerous mage?

"Do you truly think this will go your way?" I ask, smiling. I take a touch of Big Sis' I'm polite but very angry smile, and a bit from Prince Therones, the mind-controlling villain from The Hollow Court.

I raise my hand, reach into the Else, and reach for a world where I'm already powerful, where instead of blue light dancing on my fingers, my whole hand turns into blue glass in a split second.

My fear disappears, like a switch going off. How could I fear the two pitiful smugglers in front of me? Two mundanes with knives. Silver or not, how to they hope to stand against me?

"I don't want to make a mess," I say, self-assured, because there's nothing here to fear. "But a silver knife won't protect you, if I burn you alive. And even if your friends outside have better protection, how will that help, if the ceiling falls on their heads?"

The woman freezes, clutching the silver blade like a talisman.

"They wouldn't need the book if they were really powerful," the old man says, but he doesn't seem convinced.

I don't even need to fake my annoyance. A silver knife may cut through a magical shield, but they'd still be dead, if we hurled Elsefire at them.

Against every instinct, I take a step toward the woman and her mage-killing silver knife.

"Look, you say the big money in the business is in turning in mages. Maybe you've even done it yourselves," I say, and rage comes all too easily. I make both my arms and my whole face look like else-glass. "What kind of mage did you get? Some half-starved kid running from their family?"

They're getting afraid now. In the Else, their fear casts a shadow - one where I'm taller and less scrawny and my smile looks scary and not just weird. I pull it closer, and the woman with the knife walks back all the way to the wall. Blue light blazes from my hand, as I reveal my power - no, wait, it's just trickery, but it looks like the real thing.

"If you knew anything about the Art of the Veil, you'd know it's not the tool of a beginner," I say, dismissive. Who knows, it might even be true. "But I didn't come here to kill anyone. So, put that knife down, get out, tell your friends to stand down, and never pull this shit again, because once in a while, you could find a real mage. And the next one might be less forgiving than I."

Silence falls, and the woman looks at the old man. He looks at me, and I'm not sure he bought it. But he gives a small nod, and she puts down the knife, slowly.

"I'll go out and tell them we changed plans," she says. "You can follow me. But be careful, they could… misunderstand."

"If there's a fight, you'll die first, and they'll die a moment later," I say, still smiling. Ok, this was leaning a bit too much into the sim villain. But she nods, terrified, and doesn't seem to find it stupid at all.

I let the Lie slide away a bit, because if I collapse exhausted halfway to the exit, this will end badly. They don't even seem to notice, though - this was a good lie, not like the jewel shop bullshit. They keep believing it even without the magic, and I don't feel exhausted.

I even manage to keep up the creepy smile, until Dara and I are out of the warehouse and we can bolt like rabbits.


***

 

[Selerian]

***



Daravoi ends up vomiting a few fried bugs, and my own ration is so greasy it gives me stomach ache, but giving him a chance to appreciate true, deep fried Vorokan cuisine still counts as a good deed. I'm sure of it.

We rent the cheapest room we could find, since we've no idea how long our money could last. For a handful of credits, we get two bunks in a hostel dorm full of drunk teenagers. They're closed on both sides and stacked one atop the others, you basically have to crawl into your bed and hope you won't die of claustrophobia.

From the bunk next to mine, Daravoi starts snoring seconds after laying on the mattress.

I should sleep just as easily – today I walked more than I ever did in the last nineteen years, and still feel the strange, bone-deep exhaustion of using too much magic. But I can't.

I was in a strangely good mood, on the way back from the market, despite narrowly avoiding being handed to ThauCon at gunpoint. Before this week, I'd never even seen a gun, or a knife used as a weapon – those things happen in sims and comics. And now, in a few days, I've had both weapons pointed at me.

Shouldn't I be more scared? I remember those moments - the gang threatening us, the bounty hunter holding the silver knife - with crystal clarity, and I remember I was scared, both times.

But indecision, more than fear, paralyzed me with the gang. This time, I Lied all too easily, even if I risked my life and Dara's. But I don't even feel shaken. Is this some kind of weird reaction to shock?

Or am I brave? I'd never have guessed that. I never showed any particular qualities, but if I turned out to have any, I'd have guessed something like good at riverland interpretative dances or world champion at awkward staring. Definitely not bravery.

No, it can't be that. Maybe it's something like… I really like this new life. The mystery, the uncertainty. Yeah, being stabbed sucks. But I was looking for a forbidden book. And for once in my life, I came out on top, without my siblings swooping in to save my ass.

Am I being an entitled rich kid with no sense of reality? Possibly. But I've seen the Else, I know reality isn't as straightforward a concept as most people believe.

Maybe Ikejon the Unmaker knew there was a great risk, when she opened the doors of Selenopolis. But she didn't care - not that she could die, nor that she could break the sky and ruin the world, because she was too curious to see what was on the other side.

I drift to sleep thinking about the Moon.

In my dream, it's still there, a scythe of perfect blue against the dark sky. The crack is like a flower, blossoming in the vastness of space.

I'm standing on a shore of black sand, and in front of me is a vast blue ocean. It's night, but the water glows from within, the same blue as the moon, the same blue as the Else.

I take off my shoes, the black sand is smooth and cold under my feet. I walk to the water…

"I'm not sure you should," a voice says.

"It's my dream," I answer, "I'll do whatever I feel like doing, thank you very much."

"Are you often aware you are in a dream?" The person asks, amused.

I take a step forward, and let the water touch my feet. It isn't cold, it isn't even wet - it's warm and exhilarating, and…

…and I never had lucid dreams. I tried to have them for ages, but it never worked. What is happening?

I turn to see who's speaking. A young woman is sitting cross-legged next to me. She's quite striking – black skin, blond braids, tall and imposing, dressed all in black. Her eyes glow with golden light, so strong I can't see her pupils. She has glowing, golden tattoos on her face. They're not normal tattoos - one says mage, but it's beautifully drawn, not like those ugly marks ThauCon gives to the rogues they catch. The other, I've never seen, and it's hard to read the ornate script - it might be… Telepath?

"Is this real?" I ask her. "Where… where are we?"

I should probably be scared. But what's the point? This is a dream. And I'm safe, near the ocean.

"Real?" She laughs a cold, long laugh. Her hand reaches to pluck the moon from the sky, and she pins it to her earlobe.

"This is a dream," she says, "one you usually don't remember, I assume. But you're dreaming of the Else, which is very real. Be careful. You wouldn't want to dive in too deep. There are things inside the water."

It sounds perfectly reasonable, so I nod, and move back to sit next to her

"Who are you? How are you here?" I ask, my eyes fixed on the bright blue waves.

"My name is Iketek," she says, "and I've been looking for you for a while."

She speaks slowly, in a way that makes me think of refined. She must be from Landfall, or at least must have she studied there.

"A lot of people are looking for me," I say. "Well, mostly my moms. Maybe. And ThauCon, definitely."

"ThauCon can't find their own ass using both hands," the woman says.

The mild profanity is funny in her tone, she sounds as serious as a professor reading ancient poetry. "But you are remarkably easy to find," she goes on. "You have substantial magical power, and not much subtlety."

I frown. "Did you come to my dream to insult me?" It's hard to remember the waking world, it's like a faded memory, but I feel there's something important I should consider. Something bad happened today.

Not that it would matter, if I just jumped into the blue water and swam.

"I'm here to make you an offer," the woman says, "because I need a Liar, one new to the game. And you need a book."

A book. The book of magic, the Art of the Veil.

"Wait, how do you know?" I ask.

She quirks her lips in a knowing smile."As I said, this isn't the first time we talk in your dreams,Today you're more coherent than usual, though. Enjoy it while you can. Lucid dreaming is a side-effect of magic, at first. But soon, you'll dream only of the Else."

She sounds regretful.

"Can you give me the book?" I ask.

She considers my words. "If that's really what you want, I know someone who can. And we can come to… an arrangement. But we should discuss this in the waking world."

She glances at the sea, and sounds nervous. The glowing blue water is stirring, as if the wind was changing, but there's no wind at all.

I try to remember what happened today, and the sand becomes colder under my feet. The cliffs along the sea look more and more like knives.

Today… there was a trap. Is this another one?

"How can I trust you?" I ask. "What if you want to sell us to ThauCon?"

She laughs.

"I am a mage. But it's good that you're suspicious. It might help you survive in this line of work. We shall meet in a public place, one where it's easy to get lost in the crowd and escape, and I wouldn't dare use my own powers too openly."

"The University?" I suggest.

She cocks her head. "An unusual choice. But I would suggest a night club instead. My favorite one is called The Moonbreaker. It's fitting."

Taller and taller waves break against the shore. The not-water washes over my feet and ankles. It tingles on my skin, but where it touches my jeans, they turn to ash.

"The Moonbreaker? It… kind of sounds like a bad omen?"

"Superstition won't serve you," the woman says, still looking at the water. "Also, I should really go now. At what time shall we meet?"

"What's happening?" I ask, nodding at the taller and taller waves.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," she answers. "What time tomorrow?"

"Midnight? How will I find you?" I ask.

"Midnight is good. I'll find you," she says, curt. "Now for your own good, wake up."

I catch a last glimpse of something vast emerging from the waves, water cascading down its sides, before I wake up with a jolt, accidentally kicking the metal partition between bunks and attracting sleepy complaints from all over the room.

After a moment, the complaining subsides, and everything is silent. The dream seems distant, unreal.

I don't believe even for a second it was just a dream, though.