A Pressing Appointment

[Elysium]

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The room was relatively sparse in terms of furniture, the most dominant of which being a ebony divan, framed entirely in skyglass and upholstered in velvet. It sat stage center, flanked by a skyglass desk to one side and a quartz chest to the other, a true work of art beneath the ever-churning night sky. Zintila, with her haunting silver eyes, stood by the desk, gazing out into the endless expanse of her ceiling, perfectly quiet and content. The stars seemed to dance for her delight, ever so slowly churning overhead. She smiled a bit, her flesh smooth and unmarred by crease or wrinkle, untouched by the consequences of human emotion over time. The Alvina was a statute, a true testimony to radiance, seemingly eternal.

When the knock came, she straightened, two hands smoothing the silk of her pristine mantle. ”Come in,” she said, her smile growing warmer, moving to sit at the opposite side of the desk. Her voice reverberated from one side of the empty space to the next and once seated, she stretched her long, slender legs. A silvery tinkle emanated from her hidden anklets; another private conceit of the age-old goddess.

”Welcome, Alses.” She said softly, gesturing for her to assume the seat before the desk, so very akin to the divan. ”It was kind of you to travel so far. I hope the trip was merciful and that the judges didn’t give you too much trouble.” Her smile was almost mischievous. Perhaps it was true, what they said about her and Ionu playing cards together, once upon a time.

Yet the room spoke volumes to the contrary. Here Zintila often stood alone, a sentinel upon the earth, so very far away from her children, the stars. The space was cavernous, echoing, further representing the cold distance between her and the Goldenlands. Yet she seemed undeterred, even if occasionally bittersweet. Hundreds of years had passed since she’d accepted this city as her own. Zintila was the goddess of infinity, bearing the wisdom of the stars and through that wisdom she’d accepted her lot the minute those two celestial feet had touched the ground.

”So tell me,” she began, lacing her fingers together upon the desk. ”How have you been? Have you been using the Morningstaff?”
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[Alses]

The appointment – if such it could be called – was indeed a pressing one: who would dare, after all, refuse a summons from the highest power in the city? Certainly not anyone sane, and Alses most definitely counted herself amongst that category.

She’d dressed in her best – tyrian silk and gold embroidery, with the heavy gold signet ring of her first mentor reassuringly weighty on her little finger – for the occasion, and hoped it’d be enough. It would have to be, in any case; she didn’t have any grander finery to wear than her instructor’s robes. Perhaps if she got the job, a little bit of shopping would be in order, to fit the new station, to enhance its grandeur, but for now…for now she’d wear her comfortably grand silks and be glad of their reassuring glissade over her figure, the reassurance of Memory heavy on her right hand.

Judges in flame-red robes, faces graven with the majesty and the solemn rate of their offices parted like breaking waves before her advance – in her head, anyway – as she ascended higher and higher, following the gentle curve of a magnificent double-helix up to the dizzying heights of the Tuwele.

‘All the way to the top,’ the words of the lay Seiza who’d guided her came back to Alses, clear and distinct inside her head. ‘Don’t stray; She’ll be waiting for you.’

The walls changed as she ascended, boots ringing softly on the gleaming, snowy marble of the steps. Shining figures – spirits and Alvina, Ethaefal and humans of all shapes and sizes - danced forever in gilded iron dancing between the balustrades. They – marble steps and gilt balustrades – were the only two constants as she ascended up the lazy spirals, the walls changing colour, the wood and marble darkening from bleached white through to sweetly honey-coloured, then a bright and woody red – some exotic wood hewn far away, Alses bet in the privacy of her own, nervous head – to rich mahogany and then, at the last, on the very topmost floor, blackness.

At every floor, two guardsmen stood, each and every one of them displaying the stolid, thousand-league stare of the career military. As she passed, they came to attention in a shivering chime of skyglass on skyglass, their plate conforming close to their every move, their glaives flashing and flaring in the bright, even light radiated by the skyglass and further by the oil lamps serenely glowing in ornate sconces.

An extra incentive not to tarry, even if their attention was a little flattering. The chimes – and their echoes – chased her up the stairs until, at the last, she stood on the little landing at the very apex of the helix, gazing at the unassuming double doors that undoubtedly led into the very sanctum sanctorum of the city, the Astronomer’s Paradise that was Zintila’s current abode upon the earth.

No guards here; it was hard to see how they’d even be necessary, with the gargantuan power of Zintila herself shielded and obscured from view by but a few panels of dark, weather-worn wood. Doubtless the Alvina had sensed her presence already, but there were still standards and niceties to observe, after all.

Throat dry as a bone, robes plastered to her back by nervous perspiration, her tongue darted out to futilely moisten shining lips even as her long, slender fingers curled into a fist and her knuckles rapped smartly – in the absence of a herald, footman or other servant – on the wood, the sudden shock of contact sending a nervous frisson[i] tingling down her spine.

She expected – although [i]why, exactly, Alses was later at a loss to explain, even to herself – some sort of waiting period, some brief interlude of stewing in her own nerves, but a melodic, plangent cadence of notes shimmered in the air even before the echoes of her knock died away into the listening silence.

“Come in.” That was all that was said, floating delicately in the mote-shot air, barely muffled by the thickness of wood. Sound curled off into hungry silence, Alses gulped – hard – on the stubborn lump in her throat, straightened her spine and set her fire-opal fingers to the ornate handles of the doors.

They swung open – heavier than they’d first appeared – slowly, almost unsure, just wide enough to admit Alses’ figure into outer space, into Zintila’s most sacred place.

No mere eyrie observatory or mundane astrodome for the Goddess – well, Alvina – of the Stars, no; such a plebeian construct was not fit for divinity. The entire room – apart from the floor – curved, a sphere perched atop the Tuwele from which She could, should She desire it, have the grandest view in all the city. What took the breath away, though, was the combined appearance of Zintila Herself and the grand enchantment liberally splashed over the curving walls, the greatest of illusions woven with infinite care until the walls glowed with the jewels of the heavens and the confines of the room vanished into the endless and eternal depths of space.

Galaxies whirled in stately array, trailing starry regalia that would have put the trains of empresses to shame, whilst closer, in the shallows, constellations glowed brightly, wrapped in burning nebulae of gold and green.

Zintila’s jewellery box was the universe; her gems blazed with a million million degrees of fusion heat, her brooches were galaxies, clustered obligingly together, and her raiment was woven from all the stellar nurseries the universe could afford her, garlanding her form close about with gilded streamers of gas millions of miles long.

The room sang with the subtlest symphony of Zintila, writ large on the curving walls and ceiling in beaming light and absolute darkness, a memory, almost, of what She once was.

‘And what She will be again, one day.’ The thought came unbidden, but not unwelcome, singing in the vaults of her mind with all the inevitability of her Fall.

The light of impossibly distant suns spilt generously onto the glass-smooth floor that was almost the only straight line in the place as Alses slowly crossed the distance between herself and the radiant Alvina waiting patiently – a rock of ages eternal – in the centre of it all. With all the splendours of the universe in grand array all around, the desk – grand and ornate as it was and glowing with a richer and fuller radiance than Alses had ever seen before – looked positively normal.

At Zintila’s gentle command – couched in gesture – she folded herself onto yielding, plush velvet, nestling on serried layers of padding, facing the desk and the regal figure standing, free and easy and utterly at home as only someone in their private place of power could be, opposite.

However majestic Zintila appeared to the mundane eye, in the numinous realm of auristics she burned with the distant fury of the stars, ribbons of galaxies and streamers of stars whirling and dancing in a grand, hypnotic dance, a fundamental rhythm of the universe writ large there for all to see. Alses knew better than to look too deeply, though – gods were too bright, too complex, to look at, to swim in, for very long.

“The judges?” Alses echoed, slightly nonplussed. There was something about the silver smile curving Her lips, some imp of mischief dancing in the infinity of Zintila’s eyes – did She know of the subtle tension between Alses and some of the Seiza?

‘Of course She does,’ Alses realised, resigned; doubtless Zintila had gathered as much information as She could about her, to better inform Her choice.

“Whatever else we – I-” she corrected herself with an effort “-think of the Seiza, and whatever they think of us, they do at least respect law and order and hierarchy, my lady.”

Perhaps it shouldn’t have, but ‘My Goddess’ stuck in Alses’ craw and tangled in her tongue, an obscure blasphemy against Syna she wasn’t capable of committing.

A smile – slightly strained and unsure, but a smile nonetheless – curved Alses’ lips in recompense for the brief wobble of uncertainty. “They were veritable paragons of courtesy, as I am here at Your command. As to the Morningstaff, my lady…” Alses swallowed, hard, and shook her head briefly from side to side. “A little. To get ourself – myself – a little more used to its heft and reach, no more. I have a plan for it, but I’m not skilled enough for its execution…not yet, at any rate.” At that, Alses raised her head and looked directly at the Alvina, a faint smile on her lips. “It was – is - a princely gift, a precious and beautiful thing, and I shan’t squander it.”

A momentary pause, as Alses debated her next course of action and the Alvina simply…observed with those extraordinary silver eyes. “Might I ask how You fare of late?” she managed, choking off a comment about the skyglass that had shattered so spectacularly – and cruelly – in the throes of the earthquake.

[Elysium]

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Zintila smiled enigmatically, unphased by the sudden switch in pronouns. She remained silent and unmoving for the duration of Alses’ reply, stirring only very slightly at the inquiry about her wellbeing. ”I’m fine, thank you,” she replied pleasantly. ”The expulsion of djed from the earthquake is what we’ve found to be the root cause of the breakdown. The large scale explosion that ended Zael’s life caused the plates of the earth to collide, or so it seems, which in conjunction with the expulsion of magical energy, had enough force to shatter the hothouses, as they were closest.”

It could be inferred that this troubled her, yet the emotion did not show on her face. It was rather a sadness that carried in her tone, nuanced but present nonetheless. ”As it were, the Constellation will work well into Winter to reestablish what we’ve lost. If it weren’t for the good fortune of this happening in Fall, we might’ve begun to starve. Luckily, many of the crops were already ripe for harvest, thus we were able to recover a good deal of them during the event, though as you no doubt know, many lives were lost in the process.”

She shifted, lacing her fingers together on the desk. ”If it weren’t for the invaluable assistance of magic, again this city would cease to exist.” It seemed she was transitioning the conversation to the true matter at hand. ”Your references were formidable. Aysel mentioned that had you called on him, he might’ve written you one as well.” Her smile was secretive suddenly, as if she were enjoying a private joke. ”Now then. Your job now is not to impress me, but rather to impress upon me just why I should choose you for this position.”

The Alvina tilted her head to one side, shining ebony locks shifting upon their oval frame. ”For an Ethaefal, you’re young. You’ve seen a bit of the world, as I understand, but not enough of it to know just whom the city actually contends with. You’re out of your depth in politics. It’s merely a happy accident that you’ve managed to climb as far as you have within the city, all due to what some might call supreme arrogance and by extension of that, a supreme indifference to the rules.”

She did not sound unkindly, merely informative. ”However, others have lauded your talent and shrewdness. For all intents and purposes, you led us to Hayani. Had you not confronted her, she might not have exposed her hand so soon. Likewise, your aid on the expedition into the Misty Peaks was invaluable. You have the attention of several high ranking officials, one of which helped me found the city so very long ago.”

The goddess paused. ”Alses,” she continued softly. ”Do you know just whose recommendation compelled me to be the one conducting this interview and not say, Talora?”

”It was Maeki Cho.” She gave a light, tinkling laugh, undoubtedly at the resulting surprise. ”Asking for her assistance told me that you were perhaps, not as arrogant as some might portray. Maeki has been working tirelessly for this city since she was small. She is by far, the humblest and most loyal sorcerer the city has seen to date, excepting that of her late Father.”

”Tell me. Why did you seek her approval, even when you’d already gained the favor of so many others?”
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[Alses]

“The Night Lord, my lady?” Alses blinked in surprise, momentarily nonplussed. “We inferred from the…the…” she cast around for the appropriate word “…the briefing documents that he was to be part of the decision making process? I did not wish him to have to recuse himself on account of a conflict of interest.” She shrugged, looking down slightly self-consciously. “I thought I might be better served having his unofficial regard, as it were.”

It was a slight admission of sneakiness – not something automatically prized in Lhavit – and of strategy and therefore not something Alses would usually have done, at least under normal circumstances, but to lie to Zintila would doubtless have been foolhardy at best and suicidal at worst.

Either way, it would probably have scuppered her chances at Councillorship.

Alses did her best not to bridle at Zintila’s dispassionate assessment of her shortcomings. There were many, true – but the same could be said of almost anyone else in the city. The Towers had experience in politics, yes, but everyone had seen what happened when the Towers got a taste of formal power. Most others would never have travelled, either – at least she had experience outside the safe(ish) bubble of Lhavit.

And what did age – youth or maturity – matter to a timeless Ethaefal? And, if it came to that, what did it matter for an equally-timeless Goddess?

‘Deeper breaths, Alse,’ she thought, in the humming, ringing cathedral that was her mind. ‘Clear your head; maybe She’s seeing how we take criticism?’ A wry twist of her lips flitted across her face for a second at that, as the riposte fired back at her with the speed of thought: ‘Badly.’

Something she’d perhaps have to work on.

Auristics didn’t offer its usual distraction, either – the perils of looking at a divinity with a master’s senses were well-documented, comparatively speaking, and so Alses was forced to rely on more traditional methods to return herself to calmness and quietude.

Fortunately, blessedly, Zintila moved on to the other side of the argument, the praises that, unfairly, didn't stick half so well as the dispassionate criticisms did. After that, another surprise from the Alvina of the Stars: Maeki Cho more important – more interesting, rather, than the grand mages of Lhavit she’d called on, one after the other, to obtain their support?

‘Ah, remember what we said to Chiona, back when all this began?’ her brain reminded her, soft and insistent and lightning-quick. ‘The gods put an altogether different value on things than the mortals do.’ This was perhaps an example of that, but even as the thought occurred to her she couldn’t stifle a brief surprised expression that darted across her face and brought a rippling trill of laughter forth from the Goddess sat comfortably opposite, absolutely in command of the situation.

In an odd sort of way, it put Alses a little more at her ease; mischievous Zintila, with the playful glitter of burning suns dancing in Her eyes and a wicked little upcurve touching star-kissed lips was, in some obscure fashion, easier to deal with than Her Starry Serenity the Alvina of the Stars, distant and abstracted, a concept more than a creature of flesh and blood – albeit divine – looking down on the Diamond of Kalea from Her celestial atelier on high.

“Why?” Alses parroted, and then caught herself; appearing stupid or slow was never on the list of impressions she wanted to give – to anyone. Marshalling her thoughts, as much as she could under the steady gaze of Zintila – how long had it been since the Alvina had blinked? – Alses leaned back slightly into her chair, head tilted absently skywards to the beauty on high that chimed with something deep in her soul.

“Why Maeki?” This was no time to be less than honest. “Why not, my lady? She is important. Just like the fishermen in the bay are important, and the Shinya are important, and the traders of the Azure Market. Every citizen of the city is important – although it took us a while to see it,” she admitted with a slight blush. “We saw it most clearly when the hothouses shattered and citizens poured onto the Sharai with us to look for survivors, to help. Servants and masters working together to save other people. We remember the looks on people’s faces when they pulled someone alive out of the shards, the awe and relief and happiness, those rescuers becoming the most important people in the whole world right at that moment. No matter if it was Lady Dusk or a street-sweeper pulling them up; the reaction was the same. Had the entire pantheon descended to Mizahar in glory at any of those moments, I don’t think they’d have been as…as worthy…of regard as those saviours. Everyone is important to someone; everything else is just a matter of degree.”

A pause, to collect her thoughts, to prune the rambling. “The great mages of Lhavit; the Towers, for one, Lady Lariat and her ilk, for another, have great influence and power in the city; the priesthoods speak to the masses with the authority of the gods behind them and similarly command vast potential power, but the disaster on the Sharai showed us that so do the people – if they can be directed to a single goal.” A frown darkened her face. “We saw a less-than-savoury example of it in the riots; the Shinya were overwhelmed by panicked people whose only thought was to feed their families and not see their children starve.” A shrug, pensive.

“Maeki to me represents the legion of independent mages and…dilettantes, for want of a better word, the large djed-aware population of our fair city that aren’t ambitious sorcerers and sorceresses of great wealth and power - or even pure mages, as per se, in some cases. The merchants who’ve spent a bit of time at the Dusk Tower to get an edge over their competition in foreign markets,” she clarified, before any puzzlement could develop, “The hunters who, thanks to the Twilights, can become more than figuratively one with the animals they track, the Seekers of the Library who use reimancy to clear the way to old knowledge and repositories of ancient treasures and shielding to protect the most delicate relics. People who know about magic, people who use it, too, but don’t necessarily live it, don’t breathe it and swim in the currents that dance through the world as I or my colleagues do.”

A deep breath. “Auristics, Morphing, Reimancy and Shielding,” she continued. “All very personal, all quite isolating, in a way. All one needs to practice them is time and will and djed. Animation, Magecrafting, Alchemy and all the disciplines of paramagic…they need other people, other disciplines not necessarily connected to the arcane. Gadgeteers, machinists, blacksmiths, herbalists and explorers, carpenters and builders and philterers and that sort of thing. I suppose we hoped to show – by her recommendation – that I could deal with the relatively ordinary citizen, that there was at least some faith in me from below the upper echelons of the Tower.”

It was Alses’ turn to smile now, however slightly, still unsure exactly how to handle this...experience. “Besides, Maeki is my mentor in Animation and something of a friend, my lady. She does at least know us; I think the phrase is ‘warts and all’?” The rising inflection at the end turned it into a delicate question. “She has a different perspective than the grandees most of my other recommendations came from; I went for breadth of support, as well as depth, in my chosen field. I thought that if the Council of Radiance is to represent magic, my lady, then surely it would be a potent sign of suitability for the position to be able to present both a Tower and a spectrum of independent perspectives in our recommendations?”

[Elysium]

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Zintila listened, her expression mostly unreadable, though a faint smile still played about her lips. ”Not all understand this to be true,” she replied finally. ”That is why not. Though, I had no doubts in regards to what you believed. Perhaps others do not see your motivations as clearly as I, but then again, people often see what they wish in others and nothing further.” The goddess drummed a set of fingers idly against the desk.

”You are an object of jealousy, sometimes even disdain. You must know this as you move forward. There are those that view the Ethaefal as arrogant, entitled sycophants who lay claim to every inch of prestige they can get a hold of.” She sighed, stilling her hands before placing them both into her lap. ”To them, you are no different. There are those within your own tower that feel this way. They choose to forget the days of toil and strife as you moved packages throughout the city. No, instead they see only the ascent to power and in secret, they wish to claim it as their own.”

Her eyes grew sad, just as they had before.

”Power, wealth… It is an ugly thing, at times. You were quite lucky to have stumbled into the Dusk Tower. You would not have fared so well otherwise. Alses, you have enemies you scarcely know in this city. If you accept this job, they will begin to move against you. Do you understand?” Zintila was the picture of matronly concern. ”Ald’gare will no longer be able to shield you from them. The Dawn and Twilight Towers, the members of the Constellation, even those independent mages you mentioned before, they will all see this as an opportunity. Some shall be seeking your alliance. Others will try to buy you. Some may even try to take your life.”

She looked deadly serious, at that.

”I am confident, you’ll succeed. But it will come at a cost. You have the right to know these things, though I can say no more. Unfortunately, I do not have all the answers.” She spread her hands in mock helplessness. ”It is a terrible irritation to Aysel and Talora. Even now, they tend to have unrealistic expectations with me.” This little revelation brought a smile back to her face.

”So, Alses. Do you pledge yourself then, to the people of this city?”
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[Alses]

Alses nodded, slightly sadly, at Zintila’s pronouncement. “We know,” she added, feeling something more was required. “I see a lot more than I used to, after all.” In more ways than one; she was more grounded these days than she had been on first arriving in the city, better able to process the goings-on of…well, the world around her, more informed on how to react – or not – as the situation demanded it.

Staff Meetings at the Dusk Tower, in particular, needed a lot of the latter quality; some of them were so blind to the way their auras shouted their feelings and cast shadows of their true intents to the rooftops. Others weren’t, of course; they hid their emotions a lot better, or had the sense only to vent their spleen in private, and still others she couldn’t read at all – but both of those were very few and far between indeed.

“Chiona told me that if I didn’t have a thick skin, I’d be better off sweeping the streets than I would be as Councillor,” she mused. “We may not like what’s whispered about us behind closed doors, or where they think I shan’t hear them, my lady, but we know that in a few short decades they will be ashes and dust and I will still be here. Idiocy with magic notwithstanding, of course. You-” she stopped, abruptly, as her brain caught up with her ears and processed Zintila’s last comments, throwing a heavy iron bar into the delicate workings of her mind.

“Enemies?” Alses blinked, nonplussed, her flow broken; she’d not offended anyone that much, had she? “Of…of me personally, of what I represent, or both?” She frowned, uneasy. “The idea is…troubling, my lady, I cannot lie – how much has the lord Patriarch been doing behind the scenes on my behalf?” A slightly jagged half-smile curved up her lips, although there wasn’t much of mirth in it.

“Even considering that, though, we know that almost nothing worthwhile ever comes without strings and catches, my lady. If this job means I can serve the people of this city and keep it as the safe haven and sanctuary stronghold it is for me, then I’ll do it. If one of the consequences is being a lightning rod for grievances and complaints…well, someone has to do it. Take a bit of the burden off the Night Lord and Day Lady; we’re always amazed at their fortitude. Chiona as much as told us that the Councillor was a trophy for the Towers,” she added, changing the subject slightly. “Before we revealed I’d be applying. There’ll be so many groups after us they might all cancel out.”

She exhaled, slowly, calming and centring herself. ‘I’ll have to see about doing something martial, I suppose,’ she thought. ‘Or at least some magic that has a martial application; auristics won’t defend me from a knife in the night. Against poison, maybe, but not steel.’

That wasn’t exactly a nice thought; she had no idea where to even start enquiring about anything combat-oriented, and the thought of reimancy frankly terrified her. Which left Voiding and Elena Lariat, which, whilst ostensibly perfect, had its own…difficulties. It wasn’t a nice thought thinking about being any sort of target, in truth.

Still, that was a hurdle for the future, especially since – had Zintila just offered her the job? Had She? Divinely bright eyes and smiling lips waited for a response, infinitely patient – or at least, giving the impression of endless patience.

“Zintila.” A deep breath, calming the half-disbelieving butterflies in her stomach and the tremor in her hands – she bunched them into the fabric of her robes to disguise the shake. “I so pledge myself to the citizens of the city. Come what may,” she added, slightly quieter; it had been well-impressed on her, by now, that this wouldn’t be plain sailing.

[Elysium]

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“It is more in relation to what your appointment will mean. In the eyes of the people, this will tip the scales in favor of the Dusk Tower.” The goddess looked as if she suffered from a longstanding migraine. ”The more radical political figures in this city – Sousa Dawn in particular – will react poorly to it, regardless of whether or not it is true. Surely, I wouldn’t appoint someone I did not think to possess objectivity.” She closed her eyes. ”But it is human nature to question, to see shadows where there aren’t any, I suppose. People still doubt my motivations, even with the Seiza I’ve appointed to the courts.”

Opening her eyes again, she had the grace to smile. ”So you accept then? I thought you would.” She seemed heartened at Alses’ assent. ”I look forward to what you do with your position. However, I ask that you accept another season to pass before I instate you officially. I need to set certain plans into motion, so that your meteoric ascent to the Council does not immediately put you at odds in the city.”

Zintila moved to withdraw a bit of paperwork that had initially been hidden. ”Here. Sign all the documents requiring a signature. Seeing as my Seiza organized all these, you’ll find them both instructive and pedantic.” She chuckled. ”Perhaps you ought to seek the assistance of Alexander Mirihar – or Mr. Secretary, as you call him.” She winked knowingly, a sense of mischief again surfacing in her eyes.

”Now, in reference to more political matters, my advice is to tread lightly. Do not give in to any demands made of you from any of the three towers. Sousa will go into fits when she hears of this. Altelo, on the other hand, is quite unlike his elder brother. He will accept your ascension with more grace. However, both will know immediately, the moment these papers pass from your hands to the clerk on the first floor. House Dusk is not alone in that regard.”

She paused. ”They will begin to squabble. I’d recommend that you take steps to distance yourself from the Dusks. Likewise, showing deference to perhaps, a younger member of the Dawn Tower will earn you a bit of respect without having to compromise your power. Chiona is quite close with Lheili, or so I’ve heard. That may be a good place to start. Let us say Lheili has certain philosophical objections to the way Sousa runs the tower.” Zintila smiled somewhat nostalgically, as if she were looking through a window in time.

”Speaking with Altelo wouldn’t hurt, either. He will be honest with you and take you at your word, if you say you’re to work in the interests of the people. So long as your actions and your statements fall into line, he will support you. But know that in times to come, he will be scrutinizing you very carefully, as will all the others.”

The goddess smiled and rose, clearly readying to conclude their meeting. ”Read those papers thoroughly and take care. On the day you’re ready to turn them in, notify the clerk so that I can escort you to the Radiant Tower. It should be ready for you by then.”
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[Alses]

Already, the murky waters of politics were swirling around her, full of sharks to snap at the uwary. It seemed as though they even got to the divine Zintila – if her suddenly-tired and careworn expression and her words spiced with the barest hint of motherly exasperation and dismay was anything to go by.

Ales bowed her head in acquiescence to the Alvina’s request – well, command really; she couldn’t really say no or demand instatement sooner, after all. It would do her no good and probably quite a bit of harm; Zintila hadn’t ruled – or sort-of-ruled – in Lhavit for five centuries for nothing. If She could at least smooth down some ruffled feathers and make the way forward a little smoother, then Alses would be grateful.

Then, as with all things official and governmental – or so she would soon learn - there was paperwork, produced from some unimaginable recess of that wonderful desk with a flourish and extended invitingly.

Alses took the hefty sheaf in nerveless fingers, the thick paper soft and smooth on her sensitive fingertips. The penmanship was very fine indeed, the ink blacker than midnight on a moonless night, row upon row of dense sentences spooling out across the documents. Her eyes skipped protectively over subclause, codicil and caveat – Alses was beginning to see, even in that brief glimpse, why Zintila had gently recommended Mr. Secretary’s assistance.

He was, after all, someone supremely used to dealing with the Seiza, acting as the Tower seneschal in dealings with the city government and the world outside the Tower in general. Doubtless he had some idea how to interpret the documents the Seiza produced, and with greater ease than she’d have herself.

“Perhaps the Seiza need the services of a good storyteller,” she murmured, regarding the dense legal type with mild dismay. “It might make their documents more readable.”

Her head snapped up at the mention of Mr. Secretary and that elusive piece of information that had eluded her for the best part of two years: “So that’s his name!” she exclaimed, triumphant at the last. “He’s never told me again, not after we forgot it the first time.” A brief chuckle escaped her lips, magnified by the strange architecture all around. “He’ll be so disappointed we’ve found out, after all this time. Still, I’ll take your advice, my lady, and gladly. We want to do well by Lhavit, after all.”

A broad smile split her features as the fact that she’d been appointed, that she’d passed whatever tests Zintila had had in mind, percolated through her brain. It stayed there, wide and white and beaming bright in the beautiful dimness of the Astronomer’s Paradise as the universe whirled all around her, even as she drank in all the preparatory work that would be required.

Well, what was advised, anyway – and advice from an experienced deity was something not to be taken lightly.

“I’m sure Chiona will be pleased to know that her acquaintanceship with Lheili is known about in such exalted circles,” she remarked, a little mischievous smile flickering around the edges of her mouth, the mirror to the twinkle in Zintila’s eyes. No matter how one tried to frame it, it was amusing that the rumours, that little question-mark over Chiona Dusk and Lheili Dawn’s friendship, was known about up here, where worldly concerns and gossip seemed so far removed.

In fact, it seemed a little lonely and distant in Zintila’s Paradise, even though just a floor away were the Night Lord and Day Lady, and below them six floors of busy, beavering bureaucrats, all serving – at least theoretically – Zintila.

When the goddess rose, so too did Alses a split-tick later, shaking her head to clear it of such thoughts, sensing the shift and change in the atmosphere, the implicit courteous dismissal in the tone and posture of the Alvina.

“We see I have much to think about,” Alses observed. “And still more to do before Winter is out and I take up the post. We’ll do our very best to live up to the expectations of the role, my lady.” A pause, and then a fervent, sincere: “Thank you. For everything.”

She swept the lowest bow she could muster, a deep genuflection to the gleaming goddess, conveying her respect and her appreciation both. Clutching the sheaf of papers close to her chest – she’d tuck them safely and secretly away inside the voluminous pockets of her robes once she left – Alses took her leave as courteously as she knew how.

Just before she left the chamber, Alses couldn’t resist the temptation, the chance to trail her fingers against the curve of the dome where it met the doors, half-expecting her fingers to pass into space, but the only answer was the sudden shock of stone tilework where her eyes vehemently insisted there should be nothing to impede their passage.

Hand on the doors, just about to pass through, she half-turned, just for a few ticks, to watch the glittering goddess in the centre of her Paradise, the depths of the universe glowing overhead, a reminder and an aspiration, perhaps.