The Silver Sphinx

 

“Some things only answer when you ask them for the right reasons.”

inscription on the soul compass shrine

 

 

Fourth Clerk's Day of Mortis, 126 HR

Terrance payed a visit to the Great Foundry to help search for the lost piece of Ambar's soul. From the large entrance hall, he went up to the first floor to a smaller room that he and his longtime friend often used for their meetings. When he entered, he saw that Lereia was also present, as he had requested. She was sitting next to the bard on a recamier, and it was clear that although the two seemed close, they obviously did not yet know how to behave as a couple in the presence of others. No wonder, Terrance thought to himself, they had only been together for a few days. Naghûl was also present, and the Athar's factol had asked for this too. He hoped that Naghûl's gift as the Seeker would be of assistance in this matter. The Sensate bowed politely, and Ambar's familiar, the pixie Kayedi, rose from the back of the recamier to greet him cheerfully. Ambar kindly asked Terrance to take a seat in one of the armchairs.

But before they got to the actual topic they had met to discuss, Lereia clearly had something else on her mind. “Factol Terrance ...” She hesitated briefly, then plucked up her courage. “May I ask you whether you can assess what lies ahead of Factol Sarin?”

Terrance sighed. It was an understandable and legitimate question that the young woman was asking. A question that had also been on his mind since they had returned from the Outlands. “Unfortunately, one thing is certain,” he replied. “Red Shroud has influenced Factol Sarin during that kiss. I don't need to mention that I feel responsible for this, even though Sarin does not blame me. However, it is difficult to say exactly what kind of influence it is. Such a kiss can have complex effects. In the most harmless case, the result is an intense but temporary infatuation of the affected person with the succubus in question. This can range from very ... vivid dreams to obsessions that influence the behavior of the person affected. If the soul bears a demonic mark, it can even lead to a kind of control that shows signs of possession. However, at the moment I cannot assess which of these points apply to Factol Sarin. Perhaps he himself does not know yet.”

Naghûl and Ambar nodded seriously, and it was clear that his words did not exactly cheer Lereia up. They were indeed not very encouraging, but there was no point in sugarcoating the situation or even lying to the young woman.

“I feel just as responsible for this,” Lereia said, dejected. “I know I had no influence over it, but still, Factol Sarin did it because we were Red Shroud's prisoners. And that weighs heavily on me. So I wanted to ask if there is anything that can be done to break such an influence. Are there ... beings or means that would be capable of doing so?”

“Well, certainly such an influence can be broken,” Terrance explained. “Who can do it, however, depends on the strength of the demoness in question. I had the dubious pleasure of experiencing Red Shroud's powers, and I have to admit, they are remarkable.”

“Would an angel or other heavenly being be able to help?” Lereia asked hopefully.

Terrance swayed his head. “That depends on the angel, I would say.”

“Unfortunately, I'm not particularly familiar with the hierarchy of angels,” the young woman admitted. “But would a deva theoretically be powerful enough?”

“I can't say for sure,” the Athar's factol replied. “But in the face of Red Shroud's power, I would guess: probably not. Do you have a specific deva in mind?”

Lereia exchanged a quick glance with Naghûl, then it was the tiefling who answered. “We were thinking of Morânia's grandmother, who is a deva. But also Abaiel, whose creation in Elysium we played a significant role in. However, these were just spontaneous ideas.”

Terrance understood Lereia and Naghûl's concerns and their urge to help Sarin at any cost. He felt similarly, but on the one hand, he was relatively certain that a deva was no match for Red Shroud's power. On the other hand, he doubted that Sarin even wanted this kind of help at the moment.

But before he could word these thoughts, Kayedi spoke up. “Sarin is a paladin of a powerful good goddess,” said the pixie. “And she has a powerful and influential church. Can't they do something?”

“Only Sarin himself could answer that,” Terrance replied diplomatically. But he obviously hasn't discussed this whole thing with his church, he added in his mind. Faith, a high priestess of this same church, had known about it at least. But Terrance suspected that the Church of Iomedae would not have allowed her to make the decision in this particular situation.

“We should wait and see how the situation develops,” said Ambar. “We don't know yet how Sarin is doing, because he hasn't informed us. And that's only too understandable. I'm sure he wants to spend time with his family first and figure out what's actually going on.”

“I agree,” Terrance replied. “So let's turn to the real reason we're here.”

Ambar leaned back with a sigh. “The lost piece of my soul, yes ...” He didn't seem particularly eager to discuss the subject.

Terrance nodded sympathetically. He could understand his friend's feelings, but it didn't help. They had to talk about it. “According to legend, souls only leave Sigil if bound to a body, whether alive or dead. And we all agree that there is some truth to this legend. However, we don't know what happens to the souls that remain here in Sigil. People were greatly changed when they were resurrected after the usual period of time. Of course, we don't know what happens when only a small part of a soul is affected. However, if it had been corrupted, I could well imagine that the signature would be altered and Lereia would notice.”

Lereia glanced briefly at Ambar, clearly still uncomfortable about what had happened. But then she quickly focused her attention on Terrance. “I guess I would be able to recognize this from the signature. The birch leaves might be withered, for example, or something similar. But I can't say for sure.”

The bard cleared his throat. “I would be lying if I said I didn't want to know where the missing part of my soul has gone. Even if I fear the insights that might result from it.”

Terrance took this as consent to continue. “We may even have several options. One is the soul compass I have found. But I'll explain more about that later. First, I'd like to discuss Naghûl's gift. Naghûl, you are, after all, the Seeker according to the Prophecy. And Lady Erin hinted that you have achieved another breakthrough with your gift.”

“That's right, Factol.” The tiefling bowed his head slightly. “After I had discovered the sign of the Keeper in the garden of the Festhall and was able to find Lady Elyria as a result, I couldn't get that experience out of my mind. So I tried to recognize the signs belonging to other people as well. At first, I was unsuccessful. But then, after our return from the Abyss, I achieved success: I was able to see the sign of my wife Morânia, which means Envoy. In another attempt, I recognized the sign of Factol Erin, which is Vessel. Both fit the names of the two in the Prophecy. I then tried it with Morânia's sister Raralia and Lady Erin's companion Da'nanin. However, nothing happened. It seems to only work with those who play a role in the Prophecy.“

Ambar had listened intently and now sat up straight in his chair. ”That is extremely exciting, dear Naghûl! Would you perhaps be able to recognize my sign as well? And if so, could it lead you to the lost piece of my soul?”

“I can certainly try,” the tiefling replied. “If you don't mind me knowing your sign, which could also lead me to you, of course.”

“That's fine.” The bard laughed. “I trust you won't follow me unsolicited. Please, give it a try.”

Naghûl nodded, took a deep breath and then eyed Ambar closely. He was obviously concentrating on finding the sign of the factol of the Godsmen. If it was the same as with Elyria, Morânia and Erin, it should be Herald. Terrance took it as a good sign when Naghûl's expression brightened after a while.

And indeed, the tiefling nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, there it is! I see it ... the sign for Herald, Factol Ambar. Corresponding to the Prophecy. I will now let it go ...”

Kayedi clapped her small hands in excitement. “This is so fascinating!”

Lereia smiled at her enthusiasm, but also seemed quite pleased with Naghûl's success.

The Sensate leaned forward in his chair and his eyes followed the mysterious sign that only he could see. He was about to get up, but then he paused. “What a pity.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “The sign moved straight towards you, Factol Ambar,” he explained. “It seems to be going to where the main part of the soul is located.”

Ambar nodded as if he had already expected this. “I see. That makes sense, in a way. Thank you for trying, Naghûl. Then I would say we talk about the soul compass, if there are no other suggestions.”

“Hmmm.” Kayedi dangled her feet. “We know by now what Sekhemkare's gift is. Namely, to make contact with soul shreds. But I don't know if that would be a good idea.”

“Yes, he can connect with these fragments,” Ambar confirmed. “Then he receives some of the abilities or knowledge of the original owner. We worked well together in freeing the prisoners, I won't deny that. Nevertheless, I prefer to refrain from consulting him in this question.”

Naghûl nodded vigorously. “I think we should rather prevent him from finding out about this. He's a Taker and would therefore consider it entirely legitimate to use this soul fragment if he found it.”

“Wise decision,” Terrance said seriously. “Since the gifts of Naghûl and Sekhemkare are thus out of the question, we should now take a look at the soul compass.”

He reached into a hidden pocket of his robe and took out the artifact he had been searching for for the past six months. For weeks, Terrance had followed clues, sorted through false information, compared old reports and maps and traced leads based more on intuition than knowledge. In the end, he had found the compass in an almost forgotten shrine that had only been mentioned in fragmentary records. Located in the hinterlands of Automata, the ruined sanctuary had not been a real temple, but rather an abandoned place of trials, built long ago by scholars of the soul who believed that some truths should only exist at the edge of the planes. The compass itself had not been guarded, but protected by an ancient spell that permeated the forgotten place: those who did not have a clear mind would get lost, walk in circles or turn back without realizing it. Time passed unevenly there and old memories weighed heavily.

Even Terrance had not been immune to this. The time immediately after he had lost his faith in Mishakal had caught up with him, the thought of lost friendships, such as that with Cebulon. But more recent memories had also haunted him, especially those of his predecessor, Tovus Giljaf, the day he had brought about his removal, and the threats the githyanki had made at the time. Fortunately, he had made peace with these things and had thus been able to keep his mind calm enough to focus on the artifact. When he had finally found the soul compass and removed it from its stone setting, it had shown no direction. But today, hopefully, it would. The precious artifact hung from a long cord and swung gently back and forth. It resembled an astrolabe, made of various metals, very finely crafted and engraved with runes that even Terrance did not recognize. Rare gemstones were set into it in several places. He slowly and carefully unfolded the device and then held it up so that everyone could see it. “This is it, the soul compass. It is a very rare artifact, and I had to search for it for quite a while.”

Lereia leaned forward and examined the device with interest. “What can be done with it?”

“You use it to search for a soul,” Terrance explained. “I've already tried to find Ambar's soul with it - without success, though.”

Ambar frowned questioningly. “And how could it work?”

Now Terrance smiled a little. “The special thing about it is that the compass can only be used by someone who has a very close connection to the soul they are searching for.“

”Ahh.“ The bard raised his eyebrows. ”Closer even than a good friend, you mean?“

Terrance's smile deepened. ”Exactly.“ He handed the soul compass to Lereia.

The young woman paused visibly and looked from Ambar to Terrance in astonishment. ”I'm supposed to do that?“

Terrance smiled. ”Who else?”

Lereia nodded, albeit somewhat hesitantly, leaned forward and carefully took the soul compass. “I'm just ...” She glanced at Ambar with embarrassment. “I feel like I always make things worse when it comes to these soul things.”

“Oh, nonsense!” Kayedi said comfortingly. “Who's being so pessimistic?”

Lereia gave the fairy a grateful look, then took a deep breath and looked back at Terrance. “How does it work?”

“Usually, you search for the place where a soul is located,” the high priest explained. “Ideally, that's in the body of the person it belongs to. In this case, that would be pointless, since Ambar is sitting next to you. But we know that a small part of his soul is not in his body as it should be, and we want to find that part. I believe that the compass would normally track down the main part of the soul, if I may call it that, which again would not help us. But in conjunction with your special gift, the compass might also be able to find the smaller fragment.“

Ambar looked from Terrance to the soul compass dangling in Lereia's hand. ”That actually sounds encouraging,“ he said.

”I told you I was sure I'd find a way sooner or later,“ Terrance replied with a small smile. ”I just wasn't sure whether it would be sooner or later.”

Ambar laughed a little and raised his hands briefly. Thanks to their long-time friendship, Terrance knew the half-elf well enough to interpret the gesture as a kind of I never doubted your abilities. And although Terrance had been confident that he would not disappoint Ambar's trust, it had been a long search. But he had never given up, because the half-elf was the closest friend he had ever had, and helping him in this situation had been of utmost importance to Terrance over the past few months.

Lereia had been examining the soul compass closely and now looked back at the Athar's factol. “So, I should try to focus on the fragment?”

“That's right.” Terrance nodded. “First, hold the compass steady in front of you and concentrate on it. This will connect you to the artifact. The special thing about this soul compass is that no arcane or clerical activation words are needed, no complicated gestures and no components other than your own soul. It works on a very intuitive basis.”

Lereia sat up very straight in her chair, held the compass in front of her with her right hand and seemed to focus on its shape, its structure, its interior. Nothing happened for a while ... but then the gemstones set in the compass glowed faintly. It was now active. A surprised but relieved smile spread across Lereia's face.

“Very good!” Naghûl said encouragingly. “I knew you could do it!”

Terrance nodded. “Now, focus on Ambar. Since you know the signature of his soul, concentrate on that aspect in particular.”

Lereia looked back and forth between Ambar and the compass. “I sense your signature ... pure gold, warm in the sun ... above it, the fresh birch leaves on a spring day.”

The bard smiled as she described his soul signature, and Terrance had the impression that he really liked what he heard. Understandably so, it was a very beautiful, positive signature. The description of his own soul that Lereia had once given him had touched Terrance in a similar way. The young woman's concentration on Ambar's soul seemed to be working, because the compass began to spin. But then it trembled slightly and seemed ... indecisive.

“Don't look for what is there, but for what is missing,” Terrance advised.

Lereia nodded, pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes slightly as she focused even more. And indeed, something happened: the compass jerked at the chord and swung towards the door. Ambar and Naghûl jumped up almost simultaneously, and Terrance slowly turned his gaze towards the exit.

Lereia rose, very carefully, as if she feared that any sudden movement might disturb the alignment of the compass. “I think ... yes, I feel something. It's pulling me away from here.”

She walked towards the door and Naghûl opened it quickly so that Lereia could hold the compass undisturbed. Then she continued along the corridor outside and towards the stairs leading to the ground floor, to the large entrance hall of the Foundry. Her gaze was fixed on the compass; she was so focused on the artifact that she seemed to be sleepwalking. Terrance felt his heart lighten a little as there was now tangible hope of finding the lost piece of Ambar's soul. Judging by the expression on his face, the bard seemed to feel the same way, despite his initial fears. So they eagerly followed Lereia downstairs to the entrance hall of the Foundry.

There was the hustle and bustle that was common in almost every faction headquarters: workers came out of the forges sweaty and sooty after their day's work or hurried there; some guards stood at the large entrance gate and kept an eye on the comings and goings, but seemed rather relaxed; various faction members stood together in small groups and talked. But they all had one thing in common: they tried not to show their interest in Ambar and Lereia too openly – most of them with little success. Terrance noted this with a smile. Of course they were curious. Their factol had a companion for the first time since taking office over twenty years ago. The more or less furtive glances that followed the two were therefore only too understandable. Ambar noticed it, of course, and nodded friendly to one or the other faction member. Lereia, on the other hand, was too focused on the soul compass to notice the general attention. She followed the pull of the artifact across the entrance hall.

Terrance always found the large hall with the high ceiling to be unexpectedly elegant. When people thought of the Great Foundry, they often only had in mind the image of a hot forge full of furnaces and anvils. And of course, there were plenty of those on the premises, some directly adjacent to the entrance hall. But here, just behind the large gate, high arches of dark steel spanned the room, and metal columns, many cast of one single piece, supported the ceiling. The construction appeared both delicate and unshakable, each strut precisely calculated, each rivet deliberately placed. The light of an unusually bright Sigil afternoon fell through tall, narrow glass windows, drawing clear lines on the floor of polished metal plates and dark green stone. It was warm here, but not oppressively so, and the smell of oil, grease and distant embers wafted from the forges into the great hall. Between some pillars stood brass information boards and workbenches where tools could be borrowed. Faction members in leather aprons moved purposefully through the hall, conducting conversations, checking construction plans or greeting visitors with the self-assured friendliness of those who know that many things in Sigil would stand still without their work.

The soul compass led Lereia, and thus Terrance himself, Ambar, Naghûl and Kayedi, who was fluttering alongside them, through the great hall and towards the main forge. Near the entrance, two Godsmen were discussing a construction drawing quietly but intensely. Apparently, the male fire genasi and the dwarven woman were disagreeing about load factors. They noticed the approaching group and bowed respectfully, but then continued their discussion, completely absorbed in their work. Lereia, who now led them into the main forge, seemed just as focused. It was enormous in size, but not a single hall, rather a connected network of platforms, walkways, lowered levels and side rooms. Deep below, huge furnaces glowed like tamed suns, encircled by massive rings of black metal. Heat hit them as they entered, first like a sudden blow, then like a constant pressure on their skin. Above them ran rails along which cranes and gripper arms transported heavy work pieces: gears as big as carts, steel girders and structures whose purpose Terrance could only guess. The floor was a mosaic of metal plates, gutters and gratings. Glowing slag flowed like sluggish lava in narrow channels, occasionally cooled with a hiss as individual valves released steam.

Yet nothing seemed chaotic. The faction members moved through the din with concentrated routine, giving brief hand signals, calling out information about numbers, time intervals and temperatures to each other. The Great Foundry was a place where the world was repaired. Or rebuilt. Depending on the need. The sounds of the forge were omnipresent: the rhythmic thunder of mighty hammers, the hissing of bellows, the screech of metal on metal. For Terrance, who loved calm and quietude, this background noise was always unpleasant. There was a reason why Ambar visited him more often in the Shattered Temple than he visited his friend at the Foundry. The Athar's factol knew that the pixie Kayedi was not overly fond of the heat, noise and acrid smells of the forges either. She stayed therefore more often at the planar headquarters on the Ethereal Plane than in Sigil. But on this day, of course, the pixie's curiosity prevailed. Upon arriving at the forge, the pull of the compass became noticeably stronger, and it seemed as if Lereia was struggling to hold the chord in her hand. The young woman hurried past several platforms where smiths were hammering, a huge crane and some furnaces.

Then she finally stopped. She came to a halt in front of a huge structure that dominated the room like the heart of a gigantic colossus. It was made of solid stone, encased in wide metal bands covered with engraved runes. The stone was cracked and discolored by heat, as if it had been under enormous tension for centuries. Several heavy metal pipes and articulated arms, as thick as tree trunks, led out from the core, branching into the walls and ceiling of the forge. Sparks sprayed from their joints and occasionally, hissing steam escaped, as if the structure had to constantly release excess force to prevent it from bursting. The metal surfaces were tarnished and blackened by the heat. Inside the monstrosity, a warm, pulsating fire glowed, growing brighter and darker in a slow rhythm. Each pulse caused the floor beneath their feet to vibrate slightly. When Lereia stood directly in front of the structure, the soul compass came to rest.

“In there?” Ambar asked, confused. “Inside the Great Generator?”

Lereia frowned. “Yes, the soul compass points there. But … here is nothing. It’s like a hole. Well, in terms of my gift. I don’t sense anything there. Neither your signature nor that of Factol Terrance, both of which extend beyond the location of the generator. It’s as if something is hidden there … in the dark.”

Terrance eyed the generator thoughtfully. He was sure that the soul compass had guided Lereia correctly, that the lost piece of Ambar's soul must be here, somewhere nearby. But why couldn't Lereia sense anything?

Naghûl also looked at the generator and made a few gestures, as if he wanted to examine it for magic. Then he paused. “Envy ...”

Ambar gave the tiefling a questioning look. “Pardon?”

“It's written there on the generator,” explained the Sensate, staring at a spot above the opening facing them. “Envy.”

Ambar followed Naghûl's gaze. “Really?”

Kayedi flew very close, circled the entire structure once, and then looked again at the spot Naghûl was staring at. “Well, I can't discover anything,” she said.

“I can see it quite clearly.” Naghûl raised his hands in an almost apologetic gesture. “Well, according to the Prophecy, I see what the gods want to hide.”

“Yes.” The Athar's factol couldn't help but give the tiefling an inquiring look. “I still find that very exciting.”

Naghûl cleared his throat and seemed uncomfortable with Terrance's undisguised interest. But the high priest just smiled and waved it off to signal that there were other questions they should address at the moment.

Lereia, meanwhile, turned to her new companion. “Envy ... Ambar, does that word make sense in this context?”

“None that I can see,” explained the bard. “But it's not an emotion that has many positive associations.”

“Could it be the missing fragment?” the young woman wondered. “Can you tell if this emotion is stronger or weaker in you now?”

“Um ... No?” Ambar looked at her with some surprise. “Well, it may sound a little smug, but envy is an emotion that has never really possessed me.”

Terrance smiled. He had known the half-elf long and well enough to say that this statement was true.

Lereia nodded, apparently relieved by Ambar's answer. “If this is the place that swallowed the fragment ...” she then pondered. “Is there any way to get hold of this piece?”

“That's a big question, Lady Lereia,” Terrance replied. “I think we would need to know a lot more to answer it.”

He noticed that the young woman flinched slightly when he addressed her. She was clearly not yet accustomed to the fact that her role as a factol's companion would bring about some changes.

“Should I keep trying?” she asked.

“What exactly are you trying to do?” Terrance asked kindly.

Lereia sighed. “Actually, I'm still trying to locate the fragment. But I'm still only encountering darkness at the generator. Do you think I should look elsewhere or stop for now? Can I reactivate the compass later if necessary?”

“You can activate it once a day,” Terrance explained. “But keep in mind that you can only use it to search for a soul that is closely connected to you.”

At that moment, they heard footsteps from behind. When they turned around, they saw Kiyoshi approaching respectfully and bowing low in greeting.

“Kiyoshi, it's good to see you,” Naghûl said happily. “Lady's Grace.”

The others also greeted the young soldier warmly.

He stepped a little closer and then addressed Ambar first. “Venerable Factol Ambar-heika, I bring a letter from my Lord and Prince, the venerable Factol Sarin-gensui.” He took out a sealed letter and respectfully handed it over with another bow, holding the letter in both hands in front of him.

“Thank you, Kiyoshi.” Ambar accepted the letter. “Is it urgent? I mean, shall I open it right away?”

 

The young soldier shook his head. “To my knowledge, that is not the case, venerable Factol Ambar-heika.”

The bard nodded and then put the letter in the pocket of his vest for the time being.

Kiyoshi then turned to Terrance. “Venerable Factol Terrance-heika, I also have a message for you from my Lord and Prince, the venerable Factol Sarin-gensui. After my visit here at the Foundry, I intended to go to the Shattered Temple to deliver the letter. However, since I have unexpectedly encountered you here, may I hand you the letter right here, or would that be a breach of etiquette?”

Terrance smiled. Although Kiyoshi had clearly settled in much better in Sigil by now, his behavior was sometimes still strongly influenced by the customs and traditions of his home world of Kamigawa. “Of course, Kiyoshi,” the high priest replied kindly. “You are welcome to hand me the letter right here.”

The soldier nodded and handed the letter to Terrance with the same respect he had shown Ambar. Since Kiyoshi had explained that it was not a particularly urgent matter, the Athar's factol also put the letter away for the time being, intending to open it later when he was alone and could do so in peace. He hoped that Sarin would inform them of the state of his soul.

Meanwhile, Naghûl took Kiyoshi aside. “Tell me, my friend, do you have a moment? There is something I have to know. Namely, is there a word for envy in the Old Tongue?”

“There is in fact more than one, honorable Naghûl-san,” the young man replied earnestly.

Naghûl looked enthusiastic. “How interesting!”

“The language is very complex,” Kiyoshi explained. “I can think of four words at the moment, but there may be more. For example, there is something I would translate as black envy. Envy here means ill will. When one man begrudges another man his happiness, for example. Then there is something I call white envy, in the sense that you envy someone because they are so lucky, but you are happy for them. Then there is red envy. This one is related to love, so it means jealousy. Yellow envy, on the other hand, refers specifically to possessions and riches.”

“Very exciting,” said Ambar. “It doesn't help me with the word on the generator, but it's fascinating to learn more about this mysterious language.”

Terrance had noticed Kiyoshi's questioning glance, which wandered back and forth between the soul compass held by Lereia and the Great Generator. He was, of course, far too polite and reserved to ask about it openly, but he must have been wondering what was going on here.

“To explain what we're doing here,” the Athar's factol said. “We wanted to search for Ambar's lost soul fragment with the help of a soul compass. And it led Lereia here, to the Great Generator of the Foundry.“

Lereia nodded. ”However, the generator is a kind of black hole for my gift. I can't sense Ambar's soul fragment or any other signature there, even though Terrance's and Ambar's extend beyond the location of the generator. And Naghûl can see the word Envy on the generator. Hence his question.“

”That's right,“ Naghûl confirmed. ”Forgive my rushing ahead, my friend. I should have told you what was going on here first. But my curiosity was stronger than my sense of propriety.”

A tiny smile flitted across Kiyoshi's otherwise stoic features, as if to assure the Sensate that he took no offense.

Kayedi, who had been sitting on Ambar's shoulder for a while, now rose back into the air and buzzed up and down in front of the generator. “And now we would like to have that piece of Ambar's soul back. But we don't know how to get it out of there.”

The young soldier thoughtfully examined the glowing, hissing, spark-spraying structure. “Perhaps I could try using a word in the Old Tongue to extract the soul fragment.”

“Oh, that's an idea, of course.” Ambar nodded. “I hope I won't regret it if it works ... But please try.”

They all watched intently as Kiyoshi concentrated on the Great Generator, just as Lereia and Naghûl had done before him. He took a deep breath, focused and seemed to search the depths of his mind for the right word. Finally, he spoke loudly and clearly: “Avabhati!”

Terrance listened attentively, trying to memorize the word immediately, to remember it at all costs ... but in vain. It was as Jana had told him: just a second after he had heard it, the word faded from his memory and he couldn't recall it, no matter how hard he tried. It was indeed a language that eluded mortals - and many immortals as well.

“What did you say?” Lereia asked after a while.

“I said: Appear!” Kiyoshi continued to examine the generator. “However, I don't think this attempt was successful.”

Terrance looked at Lereia. “Did you notice anything?”

“Unfortunately not,” the young woman replied with a sigh. “I couldn't see any of Ambar's signature returning to him.”

“Hmmm.” Kayedi drew a few more circles around the generator. “Maybe Release! or something like that?”

Doubtfully, Ambar shook his head. “Kiyoshi, do you feel that it's the word or the generator?”

Kiyoshi nodded to the half-elf. “Actually, I feel more like the generator is resisting my power.”

“Just as Lereia can't perceive any signatures there,” Terrance noted. “However, Naghûl can recognize a word on it. Ambar, how long has this generator been here in this exact form?”

“Phew, you're asking me something there.” The bard rubbed his neck. “It's not as old as the Foundry itself, but it's been here for about four hundred years.”

Naghûl's eyes wandered back to the spot where he could apparently make out the word Envy on the stone. “Could it be that the generator is one of those places where souls in Sigil go when they can't leave the city?”

Terrance nodded seriously. “That would be an obvious assumption, considering Ambar's soul fragment and the compass.”

The bard didn't seem very happy with this conclusion, but said nothing for the moment. Kayedi settled back on his shoulder and patted him comfortingly with her tiny hand.

“Wait ...” Lereia seemed to have an idea. “The generator powers something ... Isn't that how the God Stones were described?”

Terrance nodded. The young woman was right; the text that the Chosen had copied from the old book in the Abyss, it said so. “Yes, the God Stones determine the machine and provide its energy.”

“So the generator could be ... part of the machine,” Lereia said, fascinated. “That might explain the situation.”

“If we are really standing in front of a part of the Deus Machina ...” Ambar seemed enthusiastic at first, but then rather unhappy. “Um, and part of my soul seems to be in there ...”

Downcast, Lereia looked at Ambar. “I'm so sorry. I had hoped we would achieve more.”

“It's alright.” The bard smiled. “I'm glad to know where my lost soul fragment is.”

Naghûl examined the generator with a mixture of fascination and unease. “Is there any way we can learn more about these sites that swallow souls? I believe Factol Rhys knew something about it, right?”

Terrance nodded. “Rhys was certain that the legend about souls being unable to leave Sigil is true.”

“We should ask her about it,” suggested the tiefling. “She must have based her conviction on something, right?”

Ambar laughed. “Hopefully not on the Cadence of the Planes.”

“I hope not,” the Sensate replied with a slight grin.

Terrance smiled. Naghûl's wife Morânia was not present, so he could make this remark without worrying about getting elbowed.

Still amused, the tiefling turned back to Kiyoshi. “My friend, is there a word for soul piece or soul fragment? Or perhaps a word for lost soul?”

“It is possible to express this,” Kiyoshi explained. “But only with two words.”

Terrance sighed. “I don't want to be pessimistic, but I'm afraid getting a soul or part of it out of there will be quite a difficult undertaking.”

“Yes, I'm afraid so too,” Ambar replied seriously. “If this city has something ...”

“I'm so sorry,” Lereia assured again.

The half-elf took her hand. “It's not your fault. Who knows, maybe there's some deeper meaning to it.”

“We'll figure it out,” Naghûl said confidently.

Lereia squeezed Ambar's hand and then straightened up. “I'm sure Naghûl is right.”

Terrance nodded encouragingly and then turned to his long-time friend. “Ambar, could you find out if there have ever been any strange events in the past in connection with the generator?”

“Sure,” answered the bard. “I'll ask Nadilin to look into it. He manages our archives.”

“Good.” Terrance now turned back to the whole group. “Then I suggest that everyone should do their part - whatever that may be - and we will surely meet again in the not too distant future. I must excuse myself now.” He looked at the factol of the Godsmen. “The heat here, my dear Ambar, is truly unbearable in the long run, so the chill of the Shattered Temple seems downright tempting to me.”

The bard laughed. “Of course, my friend, I understand. See you soon, and may Her Shadow not cut you until then.”

 

On his way back to the Shattered Temple, Terrance left the noise of the Great Foundry behind him and walked slowly through the streets of Sigil. As usual, he was traveling without bodyguards. Everyone who knew him was aware that attacking him would be a very bad idea. And those who didn't know quickly learned. The rhythmic clang of the hammers in the forge still echoed in his ears, mingling with the image of the generator and the disturbing thought that even soul fragments could become part of a machine in this city. Sigil took what could not leave and made it a part of itself, whether it was metal, philosophies or souls. He wondered how many structures like the generator there were, hidden and forgotten, and how often he himself had passed such places without realizing it. With a quiet sigh, he pulled his coat tighter around himself. Now they knew about these places, and there were certainly ways to search for them. Sure enough, Naghûl would do so, and the Prophecy had apparently chosen him for this task. If what he might find also wanted to be found, this remained to be seen.

 

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played May 22 and 23, 2013