Silence - Chapter 30

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* * *

Atar paced outside the Elder's study, deep in thought and unable to come to a decision. His soft, suede boots whispered against the immaculate stone and intricately woven rug, but his eyes were blind to the wealth on display. The same two thoughts fought against one another in his mind, unable to quiet until one was victorious.

I am a Guilder. I am apprenticed to the Elder of Spirit and set to learn his esoteric sigaldry methods. I have responsibilities and a duty to follow the orders of those more learned than I...Atar ran his hands through his blonde curls, dragging portions into a deep disarray. They have Magda's body! They're testing it. Are they testing it the same as the survivors? Highest Flame! What were they? Those teeth!

Round and round his thoughts circled, mimicking the steps he made. He was aware of the hushed details regarding Magda's dishonorable discharge from the Guild. Her rights and Rank had been stripped from her posthumously, and that meant her body was fair game to extract Essences. The Draughts she had used to Temper herself to Apprentice and Journeyman still existed within her core, and though it was difficult to do, most could be retrieved by a proper Alchemist. And they had Aenea Ty'lel, the best Alchemist in Haarwatch; the best in any of the neighboring Territories, he'd heard.

Except, when Atar did some digging, he'd found that Ty'lel had never been sent to the tenth floor.

So why do they have her body?

He came to a stop, his fine boots clicking against the stone floor between rugs. Atar swallowed and quietened the spinning of his core. The roiling flame churned, half-formed, and he breathed. Once. Twice.

"Blood and ashes," he cursed. "Where's my damn quill?"

He had a message to send.


* * *


Evie sat on a rafter, well above the floor of their makeshift home. It had been weeks, and while scrap furniture and piecemeal tables had been brought in, it did not feel like home. Magda and her had spent years in hovels, literal holes in the wall with only a thin blanket and the threat of violence to keep them safe. Looking down, she regarded that past fondly, with a faint smile.

She knew it wasn't fair. Callie was doing all she could to provide for everyone. She was pushing hard, doing six or seven jobs a week on the Hunter's Boards. But the monsters were getting more unsettled, just like the people of the city. Stronger beasts kept showing up, and in greater numbers. Most of the Board jobs were for Tier I beasts, but reports of strong Tier II monsters lurking in the Foglands were spreading. Unfortuantely, there was some truth to it. High Tier I creatures had begun lurking in packs near the city, often assaulting the Wall and spreading even more unrest through Haarwatch.

So, while getting more jobs was easier—who wanted to risk themselves against powerful beasts?—but completing them became much more of a trial. Callie, she knew, was scrambling to make due and add to their coffers.

Evie spat over the edge, watching her spittle fall the hundred feet or so to the swept stone floor. She wondered when the silvers would pile high enough. How soon would they leave Haarwatch altogether?

The city surely hadn't done her any favors, but Evie was loathe to leave the last place Magda's body had been left. Not even Vess, though the heiress had screwed them over during the trial. The rational part of Evie recognized that Vess' hadn't a chance, not with the Elders stacking the deck against the survivors. The less rational part of her was still pissed, though.

Didn't make her want to leave it all behind.

Avet's dark eyes, I even miss Atar. That's how Evie knew she was off-balance. Still, they'd lost a lot, and Evie wasn't keen on losing more.

"Evie!" Bodie shouted from below. The muscle-bound man, nearly dark as an Orc, waved at her from the front door. "Messages for the Mistress of Chains!"

Rolling her eyes, she descended from the rope she had secured for that purpose. The rafters was her thinking place. "Don't much like that name, Bodie. Thought I told you that."

"I may recall hearing it once or twice." Bodie grinned. "Got you down here fast, though. Can't say that hollerin' for a half glass would've done the same, minus your nickname."

Evie grunted. That was fair enough. She'd been ignoring most of the team the past couple weeks. "You've got messages for me."

"Some." He handed her a rolled up scroll, twice bound and almost hot to the touch. "Looks like its been warded with fire Mana."

Evie took it gingerly, but it wasn't so hot it'd burn. Just felt...uncomfortable. "This it?"

"Mhm, and this...thing," he said. He held up an odd, segmented beetle the size of her hand. Evie peered at it in fascination, and noticed its wriggling legs were all covered in a tight golden script.

"That's a construct," she muttered. "How'd you know it's for me?"

"Keeps tryin' to climb the walls while you were up the rafters," he said. "Here, watch."

Bodie placed the large green beetle on the wall again, and it swiftly pivoted and twisted its antennae. Then, with a buzzing leap, it flitted right to Evie's feet.

"Huh. Curious little thing," she said and walked away. She retreated to her room, tight quarters though they were. She at least had a door that locked. She set the scroll and beetle on her wobbly desk and dropped her chain on her bed. The blades and spikes tore up the blanket, again, but Evie didn't much care. Instead, she leaned forward to inspect the beetle, poking at its back with the tip of one of her throwing daggers.

[Query: Evie Aren?]

"Um, yes. I'm Evie Aren."

[Query: Alone?]

Evie swallowed, suddenly a bit nervous. "Yeah. I'm alone. Why?"

The beetle construct unfolded, it's shell flipping up to reveal innards made of odd moving parts and hundreds of inscribed sigils. A greenstone was buried in it, now revealed, and it glowed with a brilliant light.

E-evie? Is this working? It is? Alright. Evie, this is Vessilia Dayne. Y-your teammate and, I hope, your friend. It has been weeks since last we saw one another, weeks for the words I said at the trial to be indelibly etched into my memory. I am so very sorry for what the Elders pushed me to say. I am so very sorry for what has happened to you, Harn, Calesca, her entire team, and...and to the memory of your sister.

I am wracked with guilt over it, but this message is not about that. I managed to secure this construct from some of the Inscriptionists here in the tower, though they tell me this will only be good for a single message.

This is about the survivors from the Foglands. They are in danger. Someone among the Guild is doing something terrible with them. I have heard...dark rumors, and I've confirmed half of them. The other half are too vile to even recount, at least in this manner. I am looking to find a way to help them, save them a second time.

I had hoped you would join me. I am ever so much in need of allies...of friends.

Come and meet me at the Archive. Reaching there should not prove difficult to you. Two days hence, at tenth glass.

I look forward to seeing you, Evie.

Vess' voice faded, as did the glow in the green stone. Evie ran her dry tongue over her dry lips, trying to work some sort of moisture into them. It was a shock, hearing Vess' voice.

[Message Delivered]

Without another word, the beetle simply...fell apart. A wash of tingling energies she could barely see fluttered up to the ceiling and stank of burnt air. Evie coughed and waved her hand at the invisible smoke.

"Gods damned inscriptionists," she muttered.

Vess wanted to meet? Evie had no issues with that. She missed the duchess-to-be almost as much as she missed her sister, and hearing her apologize...Evie felt a weight lifting from her. The anger she'd felt wasn't gone, but it dimmed.

In a far better mood, she turned to the other scroll. It was exuding an aura of heat and tiny, phantom flames were licking around the inscribed wax seal. The glyph of the seal was made to look like a stylized 'A' and she had little doubt who it was from.

Messages from former teammates at the same time. What are the odds?

She cut open the seal with her dagger, and fell on her ass from the billowing clouds of fire Mana that boiled out.

"Blind gods, Atar! What is wrong with you?" Evie climbed back to her feet and stared down at the scroll that had unfurled atop the desk. It was written on thick vellum in a fine, fancy hand she had trouble reading. When she finally parsed it, her face had grown pale and she found her chain back in her hands.

"Atar," she growled. "You better not be lying to me." Evie wrapped her chain about her shoulders and stalked out of the room, shouting. "Anyone have some burnin' parchment?"