The Silver Sphinx

 

“Athar at the Spire“

Cant for someone who seems to be invulnerable

 

 

Third Lady’s Day of Decadre, 126 HR

Morânia pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she walked the familiar path from the Great Gymnasium towards the Festhall. She had briefly considered taking a rickshaw or a cab, but it wasn’t raining, so she had decided to walk. The air was cool, as it so often was in Sigil, but it wasn’t the cold alone that made her shiver. It was the feeling that something inevitable was drawing nearer, something beyond her control. Five days had passed since Jana’s troubling vision. Much had changed since then: Sarin was no longer a paladin, and a rift now ran through their group that would not be easily mended. A rift that separated especially Kiyoshi and Jana. In her mind’s eye, Morânia saw the two of them standing opposite each other in the House of Visions: Kiyoshi serious, even grim, uncompromisingly loyal to his factol, and Jana withdrawn, pensive and too deeply committed to the philosophy of the Athar to act against her beliefs. The discussion following the vision had been not only unpleasant but also dangerous. While everyone else had immediately felt the impulse to help Sarin, Jana had hesitated. She had been convinced that it was to the advantage of the Harmonium's factol to no longer be a paladin. Morânia could clearly recall Kiyoshi’s gaze. At first it had held incomprehension, then anger, then contempt. The young soldier revered Sarin as his new daimyo and as someone whose path and example he wanted to follow. The fact that Jana had questioned whether Sarin should be helped had violated the honor of his factol, at least in Kiyoshi’s eyes. In his worldview, that was unforgivable.

And under these circumstances, they were supposed to set out on an expedition together. Morânia sighed softly. Rhys had told her that Terrance had promised Sarin his help. That was a good sign, and if her factol was behind the plan, then there was at least the prospect that Jana would come to her senses as well. At least, that was what Morânia hoped. They hadn’t seen the sorceress since that day in the House of Visions. No letter from her, not a single word. A silence that ran like a fine crack through their group. The silhouette of the Festhall now loomed before Morânia, large and familiar, a place where she had spent many pleasant evenings together with Naghûl, her sister Raralia or other friends from her old adventuring group. Yet it was not merely a place of entertainment, but also a center of power. So many threads converged here in Erin’s hands that she surely deserved the unofficial title of “second most powerful woman in Sigil.” But today was not about intrigue or the kriegstanz. No, today was about the expedition to the foot of the Spire. The preparations were complete, as Naghûl had informed them. The Sensates had promised to finance the undertaking and equip the participants, and now they intended to gather in the Festhall for a final briefing. Then a portal would take them as close as possible to their destination: to the foot of the Spire, where the gods held no power, where no magic existed and where many other abilities were rendered ineffective. To a place where even the gifts of the Chosen would fall silent. An unpleasant thought, yet apparently a certainty, according to the Envoy. They had questioned the angelic soul once more two days earlier - everyone except Jana had been present. The Envoy had answered the question of whether the gifts of the Chosen would still function near the Spire in the negative, but had confirmed that the ruins of Arendur were located there. Likewise, the archangel had confirmed that the Keeper’s Library was a real place that one could physically visit.

Morânia was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice the approaching footsteps until they were already beside her. When she turned her head to the side, she saw Kiyoshi. 

“Greetings, my friend,” she said with a warm smile.

“Venerable Lady Morânia-sama, I greet you as well,” he replied, bowing his head briefly.

“Since I don’t suppose you’re heading to the premiere of Avalarion Cherrygaze’s new play, I guess we’re going the same way,” Morânia remarked jokingly.

“Indeed, honorable friend,” Kiyoshi replied earnestly. “Although I am certain it is a play well worth seeing, I, too, am on my way to the venerable Lady Erin Montgomery-heika.”

Once again, the bal’aasi had to smile as the young man responded to a joking remark with such seriousness. She noticed that Kiyoshi’s hair was a little longer than usual. It already reached past his ears. This was uncharacteristic of him, for until now he had always worn his hair short and had it trimmed very regularly. She did not ask him about it, however, but entered the Festhall with him. There stood, as almost always, Splinter, the giant, golden-skinned son of a demigod named Isahar, whom Morânia had never heard of, though. He had a role similar to that of Lady Diana at the Barracks, greeting visitors, providing information and escorting invited guests to the designated rooms. Morânia, however, knew the Festhall all too well, all the more so since she lived with her husband Naghûl in his apartment on one of the upper floors of the Hathor Wing. She still had a small apartment in the Great Gymnasium, from where she had just come, but the Festhall had become a second home to her.

So she just gave Splinter a friendly nod and then walked side by side with Kiyoshi through the large entrance hall, as always a place where all planes of the multiverse seemed to converge. The light of a comparatively bright Sigilian noon streamed through the tall windows, refracted by colorful glass ornaments hanging on the walls or simply floating in front of them. A rich tapestry of sounds filled the hall, a constant murmur of snippets of conversation, laughter, music, the splashing of fountains and the occasional clinking of glasses. The smells seemed to change with almost every step: sometimes sweet and floral, sometimes spicy and pungent, here a whiff of smoke or lemon oil, there of sulfur or blueberry cake. The smells were as diverse as the visitors to the Festhall. As they crossed the hall, Morânia observed two dwarves arguing so heatedly over some technical detail that they didn’t notice a slender tiefling discreetly pulling a pouch from one of their pockets ... only to slip it back in seconds later, apparently satisfied simply with having succeeded. He clearly wasn’t interested in the contents at all.

A few steps further on, a small crowd had gathered around a female satyr whose hooves clattered on the floor in time with the nearby music. With a broad grin, she sent several hamsters circling through the air - first one, then two, and finally all six at once. The animals, however, did not seem frightened; instead, they appeared to be enjoying the game, squeaking happily and landing precisely in the satyra’s hands every time, only to be sent off on their next flight immediately. The crowd clapped enthusiastically, and Morânia and Kiyoshi also paused briefly to watch the little spectacle. 

 

As they moved on, they passed a pale man with empty eyes sitting at a small table, playing a board game against himself. The pieces moved on their own, as if guided by an invisible hand, while the man merely nodded wordlessly and contentedly from time to time. Above him circled a shimmering swarm of giggling pixies. They seemed to be playing tag, leaving behind fine trails of fairy dust that glistened in the air for a long time. Morânia took it all in as she crossed the entrance hall. It was the usual chaos of the Festhall, and she enjoyed it all the more today, knowing they were about to embark on an expedition with an uncertain outcome into previously unexplored territory. Kiyoshi walked calmly by her side, his gaze alert, his hand close to the hilt of the sword Hope. A name that sounded promising, but also implied great responsibility.

“You’ve been carrying it more often lately,” Morânia noted. “I understand that you hesitate to wield this blade without the … myoji-taito? I believe that is what you called it? Nevertheless, I am glad to know that it will accompany you, and thus us, on this expedition.”

Kiyoshi followed her gaze; for a moment, his hand closed around the hilt of the White Blade. Then he nodded slowly. “Myoji-taito, that is indeed what it is called. Your memory is excellent, honorable friend. I’ve noticed something remarkable: even when I’m not wielding it, the moment my hand closes around the sword’s hilt, I feel more optimistic. And fragments of memories sometimes surface within me, memories that aren’t my own, of past fights and battles, but also of peaceful moments.”

“Very intriguing,” Morânia remarked, studying the sword a little longer. “Perhaps the memories of previous bearers?”

Kiyoshi’s fingers released the hilt. “I suspect so as well, honorable Lady Morânia-sama. It is as if, for a brief moment, I am seeing through the eyes of another. Perhaps this knowledge may serve us well in the future.”

Morânia smiled. “I can very well imagine that.”

They walked deeper into the Festhall, where the bustling crowd thinned out a bit the farther they moved away from the grand entrance hall. The sounds grew a little quieter; the babble of voices faded into the sprawling corridors, which were adorned with ornate tapestries, paintings and shimmering metalwork. Here and there they encountered members of the Sensates, mostly elegantly dressed, engaged in lively conversation or on their way to one of the many events the Festhall had to offer, today like any other day. Finally, they reached a wide corridor at the end of which stood a tall, double-leafed door of dark wood, adorned with delicate, golden ornaments. Two guards stood in front of it, but stepped aside wordlessly as Morânia and Kiyoshi approached. They entered a medium-sized hall with tall windows and ornate wall frescoes depicting a festival in the gate town of Sylvania. In the center of the room stood an oval table made of light wood, around which several intricately crafted chairs were arranged. Lady Erin, Naghûl, Lereia and Sgillin were already present. As soon as they entered, Morânia noticed that Erin was wearing a surprisingly simple outfit by her standards: merely long black pants with sturdy boots and a dark blue tunic. Morânia and Kiyoshi bowed low in greeting, and the factol of the Sensates welcomed them in her warm, exuberant manner. She invited those already present to enjoy some of the drinks waiting on the table.

Shortly thereafter, Jana appeared and quietly closed the door behind her. “Greetings,” she said, appearing very reserved, almost hesitant.

Morânia nodded to herself. The bitter words that had been exchanged between her and Kiyoshi a few days earlier in the House of Visions still hung in the air like dark smoke. Although Terrance had pledged his support for Sarin, thereby appeasing Kiyoshi somewhat, the atmosphere between the soldier and the sorceress could only be described as tense.

Erin, however, gave a friendly nod to Jana as she entered, no doubt intending to smooth over the unpleasant tension. “Lady's Grace, Jana. Well, that means all expedition members have arrived. Very good!”

Kiyoshi bowed slightly once more. “Venerable Factol Lady Erin-heika, before we begin, I humbly ask your forgiveness for my inappropriate appearance.”

The other Chosen looked at the young soldier in confusion, as they could find no flaw in his appearance, but Erin scrutinized Kiyoshi closely and smiled indulgently. “No, really, I don’t think the belt buckle is that bad.”

The young man looked down frantically at his belt, while Naghûl looked at the floor to hide a grin. Erin’s amused smile told Morânia that she was just having a little fun with the Harmonium soldier.

Kiyoshi examined his belt buckle closely, then looked up again after a moment. “Ah.” He nodded earnestly as it dawned on him. “A joke. Very good, venerable Factol Lady Erin-heika.”

She laughed heartily and made an apologetic gesture. “However, I must admit that I’m not entirely sure what you really mean, Kiyoshi. Your hair is a bit longer; other than that, I don’t notice any change.”

“Indeed, venerable Factol, that is true.” The young man nodded. “Unfortunately, I am not permitted to give an explanation for it. Not yet, anyway. But I assure you, there is a good reason, which I’m sure you’ll all learn soon enough.”

“Well, that sounds quite mysterious,” Erin said cheerfully. “But that’s all right; I like mysteries - as long as I can unravel them someday. All right, then let’s begin. Please, take a seat.”

In response to a questioning look from Lereia, Morânia shrugged. She didn't know either why Kiyoshi was currently letting his hair grow longer. But if he said they would find out, then that would certainly be the case. So she followed her friends to the table and they took their seats, Erin at the head, the Chosen to her right and left on the longer sides. To be precise, Naghûl took a seat directly to Erin’s left and Morânia herself sat next to her husband. On the right side of the table, however, Kiyoshi left three chairs empty between himself and Erin, and Sgillin and Jana took their seats to the right of the young soldier. Only Lereia sat to Kiyoshi’s left, which now left two chairs empty directly to Erin’s right.

The Sensates' factol acknowledged this with an amused smile. “Please move over,” she said to Jana and Sgillin. “We’re not in an academic lecture here, where you sit as far away from the docent as possible, hm?”

“Forgive my ignorance, venerable Factol Erin-heika,” Kiyoshi replied. “But is it actually proper behavior according to local etiquette to sit so far away from the honorable sensei?”

Erin laughed. “No, not really. But experience shows that many students still like to take seats in the back rows and leave the front ones empty. Those sitting in the front tend to be the ambitious ones, the polite ones or those whose culture handles this question differently.“

Once again, Kiyoshi paused to think. “Ah, another joke,” he said then. “Very good. Please forgive my interruption, venerable Factol Erin-heika.”

“No, actually that wasn’t a joke,” Erin replied, amused. “Not this time.”

Kiyoshi’s confusion now seemed complete, while Sgillin rose with a grin to comply with Erin’s request and took a seat to her right. Jana followed him with a shy smile and sat down between the half-elf and Lereia.

Erin nodded with satisfaction.“Good. So, the start of an extremely exciting expedition lies ahead of us. To ensure you’re fully prepared, I’ve had some equipment put together. You’ll find the backpacks over there.”

She pointed to the other end of the table, where six large backpacks stood, apparently half-packed but still half-empty to leave room for the participants’ personal belongings. Sleeping bags and tightly packed tents were strapped down beneath the backpacks, ropes, water containers and lamps were hanging from the sides. Morânia nodded gently. Of course, lamps … magical light wouldn’t work at the foot of the Spire.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been so actively involved in preparing an expedition. It’s wonderful.” Erin looked as joyful as a child before an exciting outing, even though she wouldn’t even be coming along. “Each of the backpacks contains rations, sun blocking oil, well-stocked healing kits and several potent healing potions, since spells like Protection from the Elements or healing spells won’t work. You also receive a sextant of the planes, a map of the known regions of the Inner Ring, a compass pointing towards the Spire and six life-giving Elysian Pearls as a last resort in case of injury. Furthermore, each backpack contains a small package of marking tools: chalk, metal spikes and several rolls of very sturdy twine, in case you enter an area where navigation becomes difficult.”

Lereia smiled. “We thank you very much for your support, Factol. I hope we won't disappoint you.”

“I’m sure you will be successful,” Erin declared encouragingly. “And even if you only make it to the foot of the Spire, that alone is worth a sensory stone! But imagine if you find the ruins of Arendur! Unbelievable!”

Naghûl had long since got swept up in his factol’s enthusiasm and nodded with shining eyes. And even though Morânia smiled at the two Sensates’ exuberance, she had to admit that she, too, was more than eager to see what they would find on the upcoming expedition.

Jana, on the other hand, seemed more hesitant. “I wonder what it will be like there, completely without magic. To be honest, that scares me quite a bit.”

Naghûl nodded. “I can understand that. And not even our gifts will work. But we’ll manage! We’re well-equipped, fearless and chosen by the Prophecy.”

“Don’t forget handsome,” Sgillin added with a grin.

Naghûl laughed. “That goes without saying!”

They stood up and each chose one of the backpacks that had been provided. Then they packed the luggage they’d brought on top, fastened the buckles on the flaps and checked to make sure the blankets, lamps and ropes attached to the bottom and sides were securely fastened. Then Lereia showed the others a metal box that was about a cubit long and two palms high. It was apparently made of iron and brass, and the symbol of a crab was embossed on the lid.

“Ambar gave this to me for our expedition,” she explained. “It’s an apparatus of the crab. You can use it to move underwater over long distances.”

“Oho!” Impressed, Naghûl raised his eyebrows. “That’s an extremely practical device. I’ve heard of such contraptions, but I’ve never used one. Very prudent of your factol.”

Jana, on the other hand, raised her eyebrows skeptically. “I don’t know. Are we all to fit in there? And that thing is in such a small box? How is that supposed to work?”

Lereia laughed a little. “To be honest, I asked that too. Ambar said it works via arcano-mechanics. Conventional apparatus of the crab are the size of a barrel, weigh about five hundred pounds and can transport two people of medium size. But this is a version improved by the Godsmen. When you activate the box, the device unfolds to full size within a minute and can then carry up to eight people.”

Erin stepped a little closer and examined the metal box with fascination. “It never ceases to amaze me what the smiths of your faction can produce, dear Lereia. Ambar and I had been discussing the expedition preparations and the fact that an ocean is said to surround the base of the Spire. He then mentioned that he might be able to contribute something useful in that regard. I didn’t know, however, that it was such an advanced apparatus of the crab.”

“I didn’t know either that my faction had something like this,” Lereia explained. “But I’m not yet familiar with all the projects and inventions. The box is quite heavy, though, even if, thankfully, it doesn’t weigh five hundred pounds.” She looked around. “As a tigress, I could of course carry it easily, but in my human form it’s a bit heavy. Could someone else pack it up?”

“It would be my honor to relieve you of this heavy luggage, honorable Lady Lereia-hiheika,” Kiyoshi replied immediately.

Morânia smiled. She would have offered her help as well, but since Kiyoshi had already spoken up, she remained silent. She suspected that if she made the same offer, it might seem as though she were questioning his strength, which would certainly have hurt the young man’s pride. So Kiyoshi stowed the metal box at the top of his backpack.

“And now the prize question,” said Sgillin. “How do we get there?”

“Yes, that’s the big question.” Erin nodded. “No one knows of a portal that leads directly to the foot of the Spire, at least no one known to our factions or the Gateseeker Guild. So you’ll have to take a portal that brings you as close as possible to your destination. And fortunately, I can help with that. There was once a member of my faction, a man named Divicarus Laeryn, who also wanted to go to the Spire. Not just in the immediate vicinity, no. Really right there, where the Spire rises from the center of the Outlands.”

“And did he make it?” Sgillin asked curiously.

“I have no idea,” Erin replied. “We never heard from him again. And that was several decades ago. However, I can show you which portal he used to get as close as possible to the Spire.”

“Never heard from him again?” Jana frowned worriedly. “That doesn’t sound very reassuring. What if no one ever hears from us again either?”

“Oh, nonsense!” Naghûl waved it off, refusing to let his enthusiasm for the upcoming expedition be dampened. “He was alone; there are six of us. We’re superbly equipped and some of us are experienced plane walkers. We’ll come back with incredible stories to tell.”

“I agree,” Morânia concurred. “Anything could have happened. It’s not even certain that Divicarus Laeryn met his end. Maybe he just went off in search of other adventures.”

“Quite possible,” said Erin. “He was apparently a rather restless sort, according to those who still knew him. Who knows, maybe you’ll even find out something about his whereabouts. Now come, I will show you the portal.”

They nodded and slung their backpacks over their shoulders, some more enthusiastic than others, before following the Sensates' factol. She led them back into the entrance hall, then out of the Festhall and to a waiting carriage. A young gnome with pink hair sat on the box seat; Erin addressed her as Amoretta. She urged the Bytopian ponies on with a click of her tongue, and the carriage set off with a gentle jolt. Soon the Festhall was left behind them, and Morânia leaned slightly to one side so she could look out the window during the ride. The Crystal Dew Lane they were now traveling along was unmistakably within the Festhall's immediate sphere of influence. The buildings were tall, often artfully intricate, frequently adorned with glass, crystal and metalwork that sparkled even on overcast days. Merchants offered their wares, music rang out here and there and the air always seemed to carry a hint of perfume and the scent of flowers. Elegantly dressed passersby bustled between the facades, on their way to the Festhall, to the luxurious shops or to the upscale restaurants of this district.

Then they passed the Hall of Records. The tower-like building rose monumentally, its clean lines appearing almost austere compared to the exquisite splendor of the Festhall. There was a flurry of activity in front of the wide staircases: messengers, scholars, officials, clerks, most in a hurry, many with papers or scrolls in hand. But the headquarters of the Fated soon fell behind them too. The farther the carriage moved towards the edge of the Clerk’s Ward, the more noticeably the architecture changed. The buildings grew lower and simpler; the glamour and aesthetics gave way to functional sobriety. The bright colors faded, replaced by sandy tones, gray stone and dark wood. The Sandstone District greeted them with a calmer atmosphere: no music, no street performers, only the clanging of tools from smithies or carpentry shops. Much like in the Lower Ward, it was primarily artisans and laborers who lived here. The residents’ clothing had changed as well: less jewelry, rougher but more practical fabrics. And yet it was still a safe place, far less spectacular than the center of the Clerk’s Ward, but also quieter and more predictable. Yet the carriage did not stop here …

Morânia frowned slightly when she realized they were leaving the Sandstone District behind and heading towards the Hive. She exchanged a brief glance with the others. An unspoken thought was clearly crossing her friends’ minds as well: That Erin came here without an escort spoke to her courage and fearlessness as much as to her trust in the group. But what about the way back? This consideration caused a bit of unease, in Morânia as well as in the others. But, the bal’aasi thought to herself, Erin was a woman who always knew exactly what she was doing, and this carriage ride was certainly no exception. At least it was now clear why the factol of the Sensates was wearing such uncharacteristically plain clothing that day. The streets grew narrower and more irregular, the buildings drew closer together, their facades appearing increasingly worn and dilapidated. Shutters hung crookedly on their hinges and occasionally, windowpanes were broken. The air no longer smelled of smoke from wood-burning stoves and the haze of street food stalls, but of mold, rats and a hint of sulfur. They had clearly reached the Hive. The carriage finally slowed down and came to a stop on the Last Laughter Alley. Morânia had always found the name strangely fitting: the last laugh before entering a place where there was very little to laugh about.

“From here on, the carriage would be too conspicuous,” Erin said as she opened the door and stepped out.

The others followed her, and Morânia immediately sensed the difference in the surroundings. The air here felt heavier, less fresh, as if it had lingered longer between the walls. It was a secluded, quiet corner of the Hive, so there weren’t many sounds in the streets, but the few that were to be heard were more unsettling than mere background noise: a distant laughter that ended too abruptly, the clatter of metal, footsteps receding too quickly …

Erin threw a simple cloak over her shoulders that had been lying in the carriage and pulled the hood low over her face. “Wait here for me,” she said to Amoretta. “It won’t take long.”

“But of course,” replied the gnome, though she deliberately omitted the title factol. “Whether a few minutes or several hours, I’ll be here.”

Erin nodded, then led the group purposefully down the Last Laughter Alley, and they followed her without hesitation. This part of the Hive was still close to the Sandstone District, and while the buildings were simpler, they weren’t completely dilapidated. The streets were narrow and unpaved, but there was still relatively little rubbish here - and no corpses. They turned into a narrow alley, the Whisper Way. The name was fitting, too, because sounds didn’t seem to carry far here, as if the walls themselves were swallowing them up. The alley was narrow, the buildings tall enough to further dim the already faint light. Doors stood close together, many closed, some just ajar.

Erin slowed her pace, then stopped near the inconspicuous back entrance of an old house. “We’re here.”

“But we’re not alone,” whispered Sgillin, nodding slightly towards one of the neighboring houses.

Indeed, standing there were a young human woman and an older halfling. From the woman’s revealing attire and the pair’s facial expressions and gestures, Morânia concluded that they were a prostitute and an interested client.

Erin nodded. “That’s easy to handle.” She walked over to the two, her face hidden in the shadow of her hood.

Naghûl followed his factol immediately, but stayed a step behind her. The others caught up as well, keeping two more steps back, but in such a way that it was unmistakably clear they belonged together.

The young woman cast an uneasy glance at Erin as she approached. No wonder, since she had six partly armed and armored people behind her. “Um … yes?” the woman asked cautiously.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave this alley to us for a moment.” Erin’s tone was friendly but firm. “I promise it won’t take long. Please go somewhere else in the meantime.”

The older halfling now put his hands on his hips, clearly cautious in the face of the seven strangers, but unmistakably annoyed. “What’s this, huh? I’m talking to this lass here!”

“You can talk somewhere else,” Erin explained calmly.

“You heard what the lady said,” Kiyoshi now chimed in from behind. “Go!”

The prostitute’s gaze shifted uncertainly from one to the other. “But … this is my spot …”

“Not today.” Erin reached into her belt pouch, pulled out a bag of coins and handed it to the young woman.

 

 

As Morânia knew the factol of the Sensates, there was enough money in it for the woman to start a new life, provided she didn’t squander it senselessly. The prostitute opened the bag and looked inside. Her astonished look told Morânia that she had guessed correctly.

“Thank you so, so much, noble lady … whoever you may be!” The young woman curtsied a little awkwardly, then left the old halfling standing there and hurried away.

“Well …” The halfling took a deep breath and took a few steps back. “You’ve got to be kidding me … seriously … come on!” Then he darted quickly around the corner and was gone.

Erin laughed softly. “Considering a group of seven strangers, some of them armed, that was actually pretty brave.” Then she turned towards the back entrance of the house she had pointed out earlier. “Here it is: the portal that will take you as close as possible to the base of the Spire.”

Sgillin hid in the shadows and sneaked down the alley once more to make sure no one was watching them. Then he came back and gave the all-clear. There was no one to be seen behind the dirty windowpanes either. Just in case, though, Erin turned so that only her back was visible from the surrounding windows. Then she made a brief gesture with her right hand, bringing her little and ring finger together with her thumb, then turning her hand upward and opening her fingers again.

“This gesture opens the portal,” she explained. However, they were still far enough away that the gate did not respond to this demonstration. “Memorize it well; it is also the key for the other side.” Slowly, she repeated the gesture once more.

“I’ve memorized it,” Naghûl assured her.

Sgillin nodded. “So have I.”

When the others also signaled that they had memorized the gesture, Erin stepped back a little. “All right, then you're ready to go. I wish you all the luck and success one could possibly wish for.”

“Thank you,” Lereia replied. “I suppose we’ll need it.”

“Oh, it’ll work out just fine,” Sgillin said in his carefree manner.

Naghûl bowed slightly in farewell. “Have a safe journey home, and please take care of yourself, my lady. I’d never forgive myself otherwise.”

“Always,” Erin replied with a smile, then she quickly darted around the next corner and was out of sight.

Morânia could tell from Naghûl’s expression that he wasn’t comfortable with his factol heading back to the carriage alone. Usually, Erin didn’t walk around Sigil alone, especially not in the Hive. Terrance and Ambar did so regularly, Morânia knew. Sarin now and then, when necessary. But Erin possessed neither Sarin’s combat prowess nor Ambar’s bardic magic and marksmanship. And even though she was a priestess of Diancecht, her power fell far short of Terrance’s. And that was perfectly fine. Erin’s talents lay elsewhere, and as Factol of the Sensates, those talents were more important. In this particular case, however, it clearly made not only Naghûl but also the others uneasy that Erin was returning alone. But then again, she was not a woman who could be told what to do, surely not before she had become factol, and certainly not since. And she wouldn’t have survived ten years wandering the planes and the Prime if she hadn’t known exactly how to protect herself. So Morânia patted her husband reassuringly on the shoulder as he watched Erin leave, then nodded towards the portal. He sighed softly, tore his gaze away from the corner behind which his factol had disappeared, and then stepped up to the door frame along with the others. Morânia raised her right hand, performed the gesture Erin had shown them, and the portal opened …

 

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played June 8, 2013

The satyra with the hamsters is a little tribute to a fellow LARPer I met at a convention many years ago: she was playing a satyra and had six stuffed hamsters with her that she juggled. I still have vivid and fond memories of her performance.