Opals and Streamers (Alses)

[Ignotus Everto]

13th of Fall, 513AV

Ignotus never realized before how comforting he found the sea. As the ship ferrying him and his entourage to the other side of Mizahar rocked gently in the arms of the frothing waves like an infant in its mother's scarf the Zeltivan felt a reassuring familiarity in the creaking wood and crashing white spray outside; no matter where in the world he went, the ocean remained the same. As the Nuit leaned back in his plush armchair and looked out the window of his cabin at the rippling blue, he smiled fondly. He would tithe to Laviku when he made landfall, he decided. Before he could drift too far into a fluffy cloud of sentimentality, Ignotus heard a knock at the door.

"Come in!" the wizard called, waving lazily without moving his head. Shortly after the door creaked open and Ignotus heard a thin, boyish voice behind him. "Lord Everto, it seems we're nearing Lhavit."
"Ah! Wonderful." chirped the wizard, slowly pushing himself to his feet and rolling his shoulders. "How long until we arrive, Benton?"
"About half a bell, sir."

"Lovely. I suppose we should get ready now, then." the Nuit said with languid ease, turning around to face his guard. He had found Benton alone in the alleys of East Street, destitute and barely scraping by in Zeltiva's underground boxing rings. While an exceptional talent, his lack of support meant his "managers" made off with all the money made from betting on him and left him only just enough to eat every other day or so. Naturally, when Ignotus offered him a chance to put his prodigious fists to use as a state bodyguard instead, he jumped at the chance and served his savior with almost rabid loyalty since.

A nose crooked from being almost constantly broken and a few scars on his brows along with sizable callouses on his knuckles were the only hints of that life on his jagged, clean-shaven face now, and his hair had gone from a sandy blond mess to a prim and close-cropped gentleman's cut, and he had switched from rags and bare feet to a fine doublet, tight slacks and leather combat boots. Though he was smiling, Ignotus picked up a trace of nervousness in both his voice and the tightness of his jaw.

"You seem stressed, Benton." the Hypnotist said amiably as he pulled off his wool sweater and walked to his mahogany dresser. "It's unlike you. Is there a concern with security?"
"No sir; just that I've never been this far from home before, and I'm not sure what to expect."

Ignotus chuckled as he slipped out of his loose lounger's pants and into blue silk slacks. "Are we far from home, Benton?"
The guard frowned in confusion at this, given they were on the other side of the continent. "Well-"
"Tell me, Benton. What is Zeltiva?" Ignotus said as he started buttoning his gleaming white shirt.
"It's our city, sir."
'Well, yes, in quite literal terms, but that's not what I meant." purred Ignotus with the air of an amused schoolmaster. "Everywhere in the world, what do people think of when they think of Zeltiva?"
"Our ships?" Benton said slowly, an eyebrow turning up slightly.
"The sea, dear Benton. The sea." Ignotus said as he slid on an opulent brocade vest, blue swirling into purple shimmering with gold leaf. "Wherever the sea touches, you can find our ships and our flags, and everywhere the sea touches is Zeltiva land. So be it Syliran coast or Kalean, are we truly far from home?"

The guard smiled, eyes shining. "I suppose not, sir. Would you like help with your cape?"
"No, I've got it." said Ignotus as he straightened out the final garment of his uniform and fastened the glittering emblem of Zeltiva to his chest. Turning back to Benton, he flashed him a radiant grin. "How do I look?"
"Stunning, my Lord." Benton said with an equally large smile.
"You look quite nice yourself, my friend." said the wizard. "Be a dear and fetch the others, will you? It would be best we greeted Lhavit together."

"Of course, my Lord." he chirped before scurrying off to gather the assortment of merchant princes, scholars, diplomats and sparse soldier who joined the Lord of Council in this journey. By the time they had all joined Ignotus, their ship was being guided into port. Ignotus regarded the group with a warm eye, faint smile hiding the excitement brewing beneath.

Life on the top in Zeltiva had grown a touch boring, and the promise of new challenges to conquer and new heights to reach made him feel like his ichor was about to race. "Gentlemen!" the Lord of Council said with a rousing pulse of Djed. Instantly everyone's heads and eyes snapped to attention. "Ours is one of the first visits of its kind in centuries. Zeltiva, ever the vanguard of progress, is about to break barriers of isolations standing since the rending of the world."

As he said this, the ship shuddered, then stopped moving as it finished docking. Ignotus' soul beat gleefully against its boundaries, eager to break past the barriers of his flesh. "History will remember us and what we do here, so step lively gentlemen." and with that he stepped out into the Kalean sun flanked by guards with the princes and diplomats trailing behind.

[Alses]

It had been a rather trying morning for Alses, if the truth were to be known. The day had started entirely normally; rising with the dawn, dressing, hearing a brief report from Silver and then heading into the Radiant Tower to attend to the business of the day.

It was around mid-morning, just as she'd been settling into her routine, that the whole stately train of the Department had come to a crashing stop. The herald and harbinger of all of this had been a painfully young and plainly overawed messenger boy from the Master of Port Tranquil, gasping out his news in between rattling breaths; he had to have run straight from the port to the Tower without any rest.

A galleon – and an unfamiliar one, at that - under full sail, flying flags and pennons of Zeltiva from every mast, its course dead-set for Port Tranquil and the Diamond of Kalea which glittered like a fairytale crown on the mountains above it.

Any trade-ship approaching the remote city caused a stir, but one of Zeltiva's great galleons – and an unknown one at that, braving the waters of the Silent Palace – would set the whole city abuzz and alight almost the moment it docked.

Not to mention the fact that there were the Laws and Ordinances to enforce, the captain greeted, wined, dined, flattered and feted – because Alses believed that expanding trade was only to the good for the starry city, and one way to do that was a glittering afternoon tea on the sultry terraces of Lhavit, a shining impossible beauty hanging off one's arm. True to form, and magnificently uncaring for protocol, Alses flatly refused any and all dinner invitations, of course, but her staff had long since learned to work around this little stumbling block.

Then there was also the possibility of having to find accommodation for some members of the trade expedition. Normally, Alses had been told, the rank-and-file stayed with their ship, but what the more senior officers might do was, in theory, a little more fluid. In practice, most stayed with their ship just as their minions did – a safe space in an unfamiliar clime, she supposed – and also security against an opportunistic attack, the cynical part of her brain whispered.

For that was tempting, sometimes; Lhavit's own shipbuilding industry was, in a word, woeful – more from lack of technology than anything else, a lack of understanding of how to build a great galleon or even a true sea-faring vessel that could stand up to the punishments of the open ocean. The beautiful, flimsy fishing coracles that plied the bay would be smashed to smithereens beyond the natural breakwaters.

Obtaining an actual ship to take apart down to the keel – if that was the right word for the bottom bit of the boat – would be a great boon to the efforts of Port Tranquil and its master, and the selfish little part of Alses had often urged her to send the Shinya aboard a merchant's vessel and take it by force.

That action, though, would never have gone down well, and Alses was rather enamoured of her freedom. If it had been a slaver's ship, she would have been well within her rights, of course – the law was very clear on her powers and indeed her duties in such an event. Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on perspective, such a vessel hadn't dared to try and conduct its sorry trade with the Diamond in her time as Councillor Radiant, despite the lingering reputation that Lhavit was still a centre for the trade in flesh.

News travelled slowly, these days. Which was a mixed blessing.

Recollecting herself to the here-and-now, Alses looked at the still-shivering and gasping messenger boy and called for her assistant of the moment.

“Go and get Mercadier,” she commanded. “And bring this one-” a hand flapped imperiously at the courier “-some water or something, before he expires on the spot.”

“You-” the full force of her gaze was suddenly directed to the messenger, the powerful regard of an Ethaefal and Councillor Radiant both “-sit down over there and get your breath back.” A pause. “We commend you for your swiftness, but I'd rather you didn't expire from your efforts.”

That caused a low, jerky bow and a rather garbled expression of thanks as the boy all-but collapsed into a chair, having been stood at vibrating attention for far too long. As far as she could recall, Alses had never taken her couriering job that seriously.

But then, for her it had only ever been a stop-gap measure.

Soon – within five chimes, which meant that Mercadier had been in his office, rather than out and about fighting the minor fires that apparently were unworthy of a Councillor's attentions – her indispensible deputy powered into the room, smoothing back the locks of his pomaded blonde hair with one distracted hand, the other carrying a pile of papers and scrolls – as was his wont, whenever Alses summoned him, in order that he might monopolize his Councillor's time most efficiently.

“How may I be of service, your grace?” he asked, quirking one pale, hardly-there eyebrow at her even as his pale gaze took in the courier collapsed in a chair, greedily drinking the water that the secretary had brought in moments before.

“We have a message from the Master of the Port, Mercadier,” Alses announced, waving it for emphasis. “Unknown galleon, flying the flags of Zeltiva from every conceivable place, making straight for Port Tranquil. Two bells or so out, they estimate.”

Dealing with exquisitely-layered, eloquent missives from this potentate or that, and most especially the submissions and arguments from the Seiza judiciary, had given Alses the skill of being succinct, of teasing out the salient points from almost anything put in front of her.

She rarely exercised it, but sometimes brevity had its own charm. And it was undeniably useful, particularly when time was pressing.

Mercadier, bless him, dumped his scrolls and papers on one of the side-tables without further ado, and smoothed back his hair again – for the immaculate man, this was a gesture akin to pushing up his sleeves in readiness to get stuck in. “Right,” he said, verbally squaring his shoulders for the myriad of tasks which would soon come tumbling down upon him. He produced, magician-like, from the recesses of his clothes, paper and brush and ink, taking up station by her desk and looking every inch the efficient minion, ready to execute his mistress' wishes to the very letter.

“What are your wishes, your grace?”

Alses took a deep breath, thinking deeply. “We'll need a Shinya escort – more than our usual protection, I mean; four doesn't make a very impressive showing.”

“There is a Shinya presence down at the Port,” Mercadier noted, brush still poised. “But noted. An extra squad or two wouldn't go amiss, I'm sure.”

“Good. And we will need messages to go to-” the very faintest of sighs “-the Dawn Tower, in the event that a bit of, ah, firepower, is needed.” Alses relished the new word, her tongue curling around its syllables like a satisfied cat.

“And courtesy messages to the other Towers, your grace, I'll see to it.” Ah, tactful Mercadier, fleshing out her desires and requirements so that offence was not unduly caused. The Towers – for all that House Dusk was something of a political ally and she counted several friends amongst its upper ranks – could be as prickly as porcupines when it came to such matters as place, precedence and pre-eminence between them.

“Our thanks, Mercadier,” she replied with a smile. “I suppose we should take chairs and so on?” she asked, slightly helplessly. “We don't want ourself and my staff to be standing around on a cold jetty for bells; they must be comfortable, at least, even if I can't be.”

“There is no reason for your grace to suffer exposure and discomfort,” Mercadier noted in his rich voice. “I will arrange for the pavilion, some braziers and a selection of food and drink to go down with us.”

Alses blinked. “Speaking of braziers,” she began. “Could we arrange for...” now, how to put it? “...some herbal additives? Nothing too brazen,” she hastened to add, “Just perhaps something to promote calm and harmony?”

Was that a well-hidden smile and a flash of approval in Mercadier's eyes? Alses fought down a little surge of triumph before it could hit her eyes.

A

Arrangements had taken the better part of a bell to even begin to put in train; as Alses and Mercadier and assorted secretaries, functionaries and other hangers-on (including several that she privately thought had no real business down at Port Tranquil and were therefore simply being nosy and taking advantage of their positions to get ringside seats) left the Radiant Tower for a stately procession down to the docks, there was still a constant stream of couriers and letters and instructions issuing forth from Mercadier.

Not to mention the buzzing hive of activity that was the lesser press of secretaries and minions; every crisp instruction from Mercadier stoked the fires of that particular Gordian knot and set them to buzzing like hornets, a killing auger buzz that threatened Alses with a splitting headache.

She was, therefore, quite pleased to arrive at Port Tranquil's skyglass and white stone quays, wharves and jetties – not being a sailor, she couldn't tell which was which – where there was at least space and everyone could spread out.

The Shinya in their rainbow skyglass plate adopted a wide crescent formation the moment the mountain path broadened out into the Port proper, covering the exits and possible avenues of escape and evasion with consummate professionalism. Alses had no doubt that there were a few unfortunates stationed in the tunnels that ran from the warehouses up to the Ethereal Opera, just in case.

Alses' own staff spread out in a rather less-disciplined multicoloured tide, and she found herself swept along in the rush, quickly ensconced beneath a swiftly-erected pavilion with squat copper braziers in each corner throwing off considerable heat to combat the sea-chilled air. A samovar had been found from somewhere, too, and was in short order pressed into service producing an apparently-endless supply of tea – a heartily-spiced black blend, from the smell of it, full of dried oranges and cloves - for the assembled people.

Alses smiled at that; Lhavit would grind to a halt and then slide quickly and violently into barbarism if the people were deprived of their tea.

“Tea, your grace?” Those rich tones could only be Silver, and indeed it was he, bulking beside her chair, his tailoring immaculate as ever and with a silver tray in hand, bearing a delicate cup that steamed profusely in the cool Autumn air. “I know you don't physically partake, but the experience is still a pleasant one.”

Two cups of tea were experienced and removed – what Silver did with them after she'd had her fill Alses didn't know and didn't think to ask – before the Master of the Port, Lyel Ceari, appeared diffidently in front of her to let her know that the galleon was being guided through the wreck-filled bay by one of his employees and would she like to meet the ship at its quay?

She would.

Lyel led the way, his skin glittering like dolphin's backs at dawn, to a point some little way beyond the quay where the galleon – an enormous looming shape drawing closer with every passing tick and merrily festooned with Zeltiva's banners – would be docking. “Best to avoid the splash,” he advised her apologetically. “The galleon displaces an awful lot of water.”

Alses didn't understand, but put her faith in the Charoda who worked every day in and around ships. Delegation, she had come to realise, particularly when a subject was entirely outside of her experience, was key.

Soon enough, the enormous ship was docked; Lyel had stood discreetly beside her as it happened, keeping up a low monologue as to what the sailors that swarmed its decks were doing and what his own Charoda were up to as they secured a myriad of obscure ropes to enormous skyglass stanchions until the great vessel was mired in a cat's cradle of twisted hemp, its cloud of sails furled and with only its pennons still snapping and racing merrily in the wind.

It had been years and years since she'd seen one of Zeltiva's galleons, and the sight of it brought an unexpected fondness for the city she'd left behind.

Most of her attention, though, was taken by the people approaching down the gangplank.

On either side of Alses, resplendent in silken white-and-gold and with her favourite black opals adorning her ears and throat, the Shinya tensed slightly, barely a hint of it visible to anyone without her particular skills. She paid it no mind, putting it down to their finely-honed sense of paranoia, preferring instead to focus on the Zeltivan delegation.

Front and centre, and obviously the most important, there came a middle-aged gentleman, the aura of power and influence almost palpable around him even without the advantage of auristics. The delegation revolved around him, Alses perceived instantly – some of those behind him might have been more ostentatious, flashing with jewels that put her own subtle black opals to shame, but he was nonetheless the great power there, the one to impress and to enlighten.

As he came closer, she fought to keep her gorge from rising and the smile coolly, impersonally on her face. His aura was...strange, a double-layered thing that interacted weakly, queasily almost, full of the colours she'd come to associate with illness and lingering death. There was no bright beat pulsing through it, as there often was, instead a slower, more deliberate wash of colour and sound and sensation. And all in those bilious, writhing colours reeking of decay, screaming that, impossibly, here was something dead.

Dead and yet walking, smiling – with bright white teeth, absolutely perfect dentures – looking, if not in the very pink of health, then at least in the pastel shades of it. So what on Mizahar was he?

She didn't have time to think on it more, however; it was a short trip from the gangplank to the end of the quay where Alses waited, flanked by guards and functionaries in a mirror of the Zeltivan delegation, and he was nearly upon her.

Slow and stately, refusing to look away before it was polite to do so, Alses inclined her head in a graceful half-bow before straightening back up into her perfect posture. “We are most pleased to see a new galleon from Zeltiva in our port,” she announced, her voice sonorous and clear, melodious and carrying easily to the decks of the ship and the sailors assembled there. “Be welcome in the Diamond of Kalea.”

Turning – metaphorically, if not literally – to the actual delegation in front of her, Alses retuned her voice to something more suitable for a smaller gathering. “Our name is Alses. Councillor Radiant for Foreign Affairs – amongst other things – for our sins. May we know whom we are addressing?”

[Ignotus Everto]

A conspicuous lack of vital signs and body heat weren't the only things open to Alses' auristic sight. If she cared to notice, it would not be a great challenge to detect the faint but unmistakable signature of transforming Djed radiating from the Nuit. It didn't seem to translate to anything visible in space, but it could potentially explain the sheer level of presence the man had. Every movement and thud of his cane against the wet wood of the gangplank seemed to ooze nigh-regal authority, and even some members of his own entourage seemed struck by the level of command swirling around the wizard.

"A title well and truly earned!" the Hypotist said jovially, a faint ripple of pride coupled with the subconscious idea that his approval was something worth seeking echoing the words. A lifetime in his hometown left the Nuit's voice heavily accented, and his voice didn't have half the level of polish the Ethaefal' possessed, but it was no less proficient at capturing peoples' attention.

The wizard mirrored Alses' bow, a warm smile on his face as he answered her question with poorly contained relish. "Lord Ignotus Everto, ruler of Zeltiva and the Denval nation at her Radiance's service. I imagine my dear companions will want to make their own introductions."
Ignotus then stepped aside to allow the small parade of handshake-happy businessmen, nerves-and-giggles scholars and gruff soldiers to disembark and give their names and reasons for coming while he took in the sights and sounds around him.

The gleaming armor of the Shinya elicited a faint smirk from Ignotus and he wondered to himself if the rainbow pattern served a practical purpose or just existed to look fancy. The braziers and pavilion also amused the Nuit. Even among higher society, he hadn't seen such apparent delicateness in Zeltiva. "This will be a fun city." the Nuit decided as he turned his attention back to the Ethaefal in front of him. "As the leaders of civilization in our respective corners of Mizahar, it would be an unforgivable waste to wallow in a vacuum." he said softly, a mix of flattery and gentle admiration sinking into Alses. "I have come because I believe Lhavit deserves the attention of more than a mere aide or diplomat. If you have any questions, I or my esteemed companions will be happy to answer them. We greatly look forward to learning more about the epitome of Western culture."

[Alses]

Alses kept the perfect, impersonal smile firmly on her face despite her surprise – no, better make that stupefaction - and stood, immovable, against the minor tide of businesspeople and assorted Zeltivan minions that came forward at Ignotus' behest. She – and the rest of them – had been expecting a Zeltivan merchant prince and his entourage, a daring entrepreneur looking to make a fortune and a name by trading with one of the most remote and mystical cities of Mizahar, not the Lord of Council himself.

Not that most of the assembled Lhavitian functionaries knew the title, but Alses did, even if when she'd last been in Zeltiva it had been held by...oh, now what was her name?

It had been a lady, she was certain of that, at least.

But then, that was the nature of Zeltiva and its politics; everyone who mattered in that city danced on quicksand, trading offices and sinecures between one another as they grappled and jockeyed for political position in an internecine game that was a life, a hobby and a deadly vice all in one. That had been Alses' impression of the place, anyway, but she had been a very uninterested outsider, for the most part, focused on either more immediate or more arcane things than who sat in splendour in the Council or which merchant House or Guild was in the ascendancy.

Normally, she'd have taken such claims with a pinch of salt; an up-and-coming merchant prince inflating their already-considerable status with the benighted natives of a far-flung corner of the world, but Ignotus' strange aura didn't shift or budge or buckle an inch at the pronouncement, none of the hundred little tells that might clue her into the possibility of a lie being spoken.

Even more tellingly, no-one in his entourage reacted oddly to it, either. Oh, they could have been drilled in how to respond – or not – but an aurist's skill and power lay in the reading of others, in the mental cues rather than the physical, and really, no matter how disciplined a group there was always some niggling little thought in the unregarded back of a mind about what they were doing, and that made itself manifest in an aura as a subtle shift in the light, the sound, the colour, the smell and the texture of it, a ripple that could so easily go unnoticed – if one were not a master of the craft, at least.

Definitely someone to impress, therefore, someone to cultivate carefully. Not least because he was dead – now, how was she going to bring that up?

Behind her, as thoughts raced through her head, her own entourage of assorted functionaries took their cues from her and met the oncoming wave with their own vanguard, hands extended Zeltivan-fashion to welcome their guests. It wouldn't do to impose unfamiliar courtesy on their guests, and Lhavit was a place that took its courtesy – and its tea – very seriously indeed.

For her own part, having skilfully weathered the storm of the gathered delegates, Alses took a half-step to the side and fell perfectly into pace with Ignotus. “Few things would please us more than to show you the wonders of the Diamond of Kalea,” she murmured, casting her eyes up to the fairytale city that glittered and shone in the light, a rainbowed crown to the five peaks. “And we have many questions, as I'm sure you do for us. But for the moment, there are a few small details to attend to; you understand, we're sure. This way, my lord.”

So saying, she swept off – and a good sweep was a skill, she'd learned, a sort of friendly and socially-acceptable unstoppability – towards the pavilion, with its chairs and its cheery fires that took the edge off the seaside chill and Silver, irreplaceable Silver, waiting patiently, unruffled by the playful breezes or all the new sights and smells.

“Incidentally, I believe congratulations are in order, my lord,” Alses announced presently, a half-smile on her face as she regarded Ignotus. “On your accession to your post,” she clarified. “When last we were in Zeltiva, the incumbent Lord of Council – that is your title, is it not? - was a lady. The name escapes us at present – we were never very good with names – but we remember that much. It's good to see a Zeltivan galleon in our port again; it's been some while since we had the pleasure. We would have liked to reciprocate – as you so aptly put it, no city should wallow in a vacuum – but our shipbuilding industry is very much in its infancy, alas.”

As she stepped into the pavilion, Alses couldn't help the smile that came across her face; she was a creature of warmth and light, and the braziers – glowing cherry-red from the heat within – were a welcome relief from the exposed quays of Port Tranquil.

“Sit down, do,” she urged warmly, before turning to Silver.

“Message Talora and Aysel,” she instructed her butler quietly. “Monarch-” it was the closest of the words she knew in Arumenic to the actual position of Lord of Council “-of Zeltiva in Lhavit..” In reply, he bowed and then made a minute turn that nonetheless conveyed attention and a query about Ignotus.

“Would you care for some refreshment? We will quite understand if you do not, but the offer is there, nonetheless.”

[Ignotus Everto]

The Nuit inclined his head slightly with stately grace before following Alses. His entourage spared a smattering of amused smiles at this funny city that found walking distasteful before turning away to pursue their own personal quests. The guards, of course, moved instead to do their jobs and flank the pavilion after exchanging words and handshakes with the Shinya present. "Maria Satterwhite." Ignotus said softly as he sat beside her. "A fine and capable woman. Circumstances demanded a Lord of Council with a touch more vigor, however." at the mention of Lhavit's weak shipbuilding industry, the Nuit flashed an enigmatic smile. "A lamentable pity. Perhaps something that could be ameliorated... In time."

The wizard waved away offers of refreshment with a chuckle. "I'm afraid my condition leaves me unable to partake. I appreciate the intent, though."
"You've been in Zeltiva quite recently, Councillor. Business, or do we come from the same city?"

[Alses]

“Something we have in common,” Alses remarked with a bright smile. “I, too, do not partake of food or drink – at least, not physically. It’s not necessary, although we keep a supply of treats to experience from time to time.” She didn’t need to make any sort of gesture towards Silver; he was a consummate professional and well-attuned to her needs and desires besides.

As such, the butler shimmered out nearly noiselessly, doubtless to attend to the distribution of tea and biscuits to all and sundry coming off the Zeltivan galleon, giving his mistress and her guest some semblance of privacy.

“And speaking of your condition as we are,” Alses continued gracefully, her voice unchanged from its mellifluous tones, “We did ponder how to broach that. I confess, I wondered how much of a secret it was that you are, to all intents and purposes save the obvious, quite dead.” She was blunt, as much to gauge his reaction to it as anything. “Then we have to wonder: how do you keep your soul from Lhex’s waiting room?” Her tone was light, pleasant, conversational – the picture of a perfect hostess.

“In any case, recently is perhaps stretching matters, with regards to Zeltiva,” Alses demurred with a shake of her head that set the black opals to gleaming, turning the light, idle conversation with consummate ease towards the second part of Ignotus’ response. “Nearly a decade is quite a long time by the standards of most mortals. But! Zeltiva is, nonetheless, the place we Fell back to on Mizahar.” A wry smile and a shrug.

“We remember little of the greater picture, and the internecine games the Guilds and merchant princes played – I was quite a self-absorbed example of my kind, at the time – but the little, simple things stayed with us.” A slight spasm of disgust ran across her face for a moment, and her tone became conspiratorial. “Although if we ever have to experience kelp beer again, it will be entirely too soon.”

A shadow flickered momentarily across one of the pavilion’s walls, drawing Alses’ attention for a moment even as she stretched her hands out towards one of the cherry-red braziers and its calming smoke that filled the air, her lips upcurved into a beatific little smile. “To more immediate matters, if we may?” Her question was entirely rhetorical in truth, but allowing someone the semblance of a choice, of control, that was a useful technique indeed, part of the way of leading someone by the nose until they were convinced it had all been their idea, really.

“Many of the fundamental laws here are simple to grasp. Don’t kill, maim, steal, kidnap – the trappings of a civilised city, in other words. We’ll provide you with a copy of the statutes for your own perusal, of course, but we bring it up now, rather than later, as you’re a mage of some stripe.” A sigh, perhaps giving some insight into Alses’ own feelings on the subject.

“We’re afraid there is currently a restriction on the practice of public magic – that is, magic performed in the streets and communal places of Lhavit. If we might ask you to refrain from public practice for the moment, the city would undoubtedly be grateful. And speaking of…” she tailed off for a moment, before directing the full force of her smile and the physical beauty of an Ethaefal in the pink of health at Ignotus.

“We are reminded that the Shinya – our city guard – wish to search your vessel for contraband, my lord. Mostly a formality in this case, I have every confidence, but they are oath-bound to Zintila to do their duty, nonetheless.”

[Ignotus Everto]

Ignotus chuckled amiably at the question and the noted similarity between the two- one of few, considering the disparity in their appearances; one uncannily beautiful and glowing, the other just plain uncanny, his mottled black tongue flashing into view briefly as he replied. "Not all of us are fortunate enough to be born immortal. Fortunately, the artifice of man can conquer even death. I suppose you could call me a soul freed from its original vessel. Unlike a blessed one like yourself, freedom brings certain downsides- I can hardly taste a thing, for instance- but I think the rewards have been worth it. The city of Zeltiva certainly thinks so, seeing as they elected me."

The wizard forced down a snort at Alses' condemnation of Kelp beer, nodding sympathetically. "Truly, the greatest reward of undeath is having an excuse to never drink it again. It's comforting to see a child of Zeltiva this far from home, however." he said with a kindly smile and twinkle of his eye. "Little surprise you became Councillor of foreign affairs; our people are among the most cosmopolitan in the world." Here the gossamer tendrils of magic that had folded themselves away after their wielder's exit from the limelight unfurled again, wrapping around Alses' subconscious and seeping in a sense of unity. Even far away, she was still a Zeltivan.

The Hypnotist opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again and leaned back when the Ethaefal rattled off her quick list of statutes and protocols. When she attempted to dazzle Ignotus with her beauty, she may have noticed another marked difference between him and any living man she may have dealt with; while Ignotus certainly seemed to appreciate the elegance of her form in the same way one might appreciate a fine building, he also appeared completely and utterly uninterested in other things. While most at least felt an attraction that might have been hidden or not, the Nuit wasn't even slightly distracted.

"An odd policy. One would assume such beautiful buildings weren't made merely by carpenters with a fetish for ordinary glass." the wizard said with a bemused look and a slight pursing of his lips. Again the tendrils reached out, this time stoking frustration and a sense of alienation along with another light spritz of togetherness. They were both being judged by the city, after all. "But if that is Lhavit's stance, I shan't argue with it. I'm guessing from your mild irritation you're also a wizard?" He inhaled slightly- for the gesture, as he didn't breathe by default- then waved the sentiment away like an unpleasant smell that had drifted in with the smoke. "Something we can speak about when we're somewhere less damp. The Shinya are of course welcome to search our vessel. Now," the regal aura returned with Ignotus' smile, though not with quite the same force as at the docks. "Show me around. I'd like to get to know Lhavit, and I think I'd rather like to get to know you, Councillor."

[Alses]

“That is a loss, my lord,” Alses said, somewhat dismayed. “We may not eat, but I do so love to taste. It’s one of the finer pleasures, along with a lot of hot water, a good library, an abundance of free time, and a cupboard well-stocked with Lhavit’s pharmacopeia.” She cast a glance skyward, up through the pavilion’s fabric, to where the glittering city perched.

A part of her wondered whether to disabuse the regal and self-assured – and why wouldn’t he be, in command of one of the greater cities on the planet? – Lord of Council as to her allegiances. Zeltiva had merely been lodgings for her body; her mind had drifted high and far and lonely more often than not, and she’d had to fight daily against the sucking drag of unreality, as insidious and pervasive as Tanroa’s river.

Lhavit, on the other hand…something about the place resonated with her on a fundamental level; the undercurrent of unreality counterbalanced by its many wonders. Perhaps that was why she was one of the few, the very few to ever stay. A few of her kind passed through, every so often; they rested, drank deep of Lhavit’s beauties, of the honour they were done within its confines, and then left again. Alses saw in their faces something long since banished from her own; that inner guilt – and something more – that pushed them onwards from the oasis of the city, in time.

In the end, though, Alses decided not to. Lord Everto was very much an unknown quantity, still, and she would take any advantage – no matter how slight or subconscious it might be – in her dealings with him. As was only right and proper for any good official, of course.

“No city – and no race – should exist in a vacuum,” she quoted back at him, with a softly mischievous smile. “For nature – and Zeltiva – abhors it.”

The smile vanished, however, with the mention of the Ban – for it was capitalised in Alses’ head if nowhere else. “An odd policy indeed,” she agreed. “And not one of mine, we hasten to add - particularly since we are, indeed, a sorceress of some small skill. The ban is something of a slap in the face to every mage who’s ever risked life and limb for the city, in our view - and there are a lot of those.” She smiled, thin and cold and utterly without mirth – maybe, in so doing, revealing more than she’d intended.

Alses – perhaps influenced by the subtle flare and flash of Ignotus’ magic – even though it played and danced on her augmented senses, continued: “You’re right, though, my lord; that’s a discussion for another time entirely. This way, then; we’ll have plenty of time to talk on the path upwards, and as you appear not to need to breathe and I am perfect-” a statement of quiet fact, not any form of boast “-we shan’t get winded on the way up to the Gates.”

Whatever else might be said for them, her staff were efficient; a few words to her deputy were enough to see their procession making its stately way up the path towards the glittering Amaranthine Gates, fringed by the remaining rainbow Shinya – some had stayed behind, to effect the customs sweep. Really, Alses knew, all they were looking for at this early stage were non-Ranuri slaves; most everything else was treated on case-by-case basis. The list of banned items, therefore, was very small.

As they walked, at a pace a little above ‘leisurely’, Alses continued the conversation begun in the pavilion as though little had changed. “Our buildings are quite singular: you’ll not see their like anywhere else, to my knowledge – and they’re not merely the production of vast glassworks and artisans with acres of time; we leave that to the Inarta of Wind Reach. No, they are skyglass; wonderful building material, really. Light, strong, and almost entirely impervious to djed, very quick to grow and repair. Warm and radiant, too, which is a blessing in the colder seasons. A gift from the Starry Queen when Lhavit was first founded; whilst it and its growth is a form of magic…in keeping with many other places, divine power is granted exception and glory, quite separate from the other arcane disciplines.” A half-shrug, and a wry smile quirking up the corners of her mouth. “Besides, no-one would dare to ban the skyglass, not with Zintila Herself living here still, even if She does spend most of Her time in Her Paradise and has no interest in ruling.”

As they climbed, the air getting thinner and thinner, the Gates loomed large before them, massive and ornate even at this distance, glittering and glimmering in the sunshine, Alses confided idly: “We’re grateful you intend to abide by the laws as they stand at the moment. Not that we begrudge you your workings – far from it – but we do like to avoid…unpleasantness…if we can.”

Alses nodded her head to the colossal gates ahead, their shining pennons snapping and racing bravely in the constant breeze. “We’ve arranged matters with the gate guards,” she murmured. “No sense in stopping; we know why you’re here, after all, and if you or yours have any nefarious intentions, somehow we don’t think you’ll announce them at a challenge from a Shinya.”

Sure enough, as they drew closer and closer, the enormous and elaborately-carved leaves of the gates were opening, folding inwards with silent, ponderous grace, giving the Zeltivans their first glimpse of bustling Sartu Peak, of the great double spire of the Twilight Tower, the glittering beauty of the Temple of Time, the warm beacon of the Cosmos Centre and all the other, lesser landmarks that Alses knew so well.

“Welcome to Lhavit, ladies and gentlemen! If there are any questions, we will all be glad to answer them – or attempt to, at any rate.”

[Ignotus Everto]

"Now that is something I am not remotely familiar with." said Ignotus wryly. "Perhaps I should have dabbled a touch before escaping the mortal coil."

A light raise of the eyebrow and a slight satisfied curl to Ignotus' lips were the only changes visible on the Lord of Council as he witnessed Alses' minor outpouring of bile. He quietly took note of the sore spot as as he tutted and shook his head in sympathy. "I personally would never permit such a silly law in my city. I suppose this is one of the consequences of letting the ignorant craft policy." As he spoke, his magic stoked Alses' resentment and alienation whilst simultaneously whispering to her inner mind that he understands. He knows better.

Ignotus listened with quiet interest to the Ethaefal's little lecture on Skyglass whilst the more scholarly members of his party within earshot scribbled notes on whatever was handy. At Alses’ mentioning she lacked concern for his doings, the Nuit glanced over at her somewhat suspiciously, “Did I imagine that implication, or are you truly that confident?” he murmured softly as they approached the gates. The wizard watched silently while his Zeltivan compatriots erupted into an excited buzz at the sight of the glimmering city. “This is it. My first true test.” He thought to himself, gaze briefly turning steely and calculating as he drank in the sights of Lhavit and let his speculative mind whirr into motion and search for pressure points and areas of weakness. So far, none. More information was needed before he could make a move. Warmth returned to Ignotus’ eyes as he idly dismissed his fellows with a wave of his hand that sent them scattering like children in a candy shop.

“Truly a city as magnificent up close as it is from a distance.” He said with a bold grin, walking ahead of Alses through the gates without prompting and expecting her to follow. “I look forward to learning every inch of it. For the time being, I must say I feel a touch overwhelmed, so if you could please, dear Alses- I may call you that, yes?-show me where you like to spend time in fair Lhavit. I’m quite curious as to what an aspect of perfection’s favourite spot is.” The regal aura returned with a feeling of flattery and gentle pull of pleasure. “Perhaps then we could have a proper, substantial conversation with a touch less suffocating civility.” He drawled languidly behind him as his cane clacked against the stone street.

[Alses]

“Oh, not an ignorant,” Alses replied with a scowl that was tinged, at the edges, with a soupcon of sadness. “Far from it. The lady Anchorite who made the ruling was a powerful sorceress in her own right. Rather obsessed with control, though, in recent years. We are still – as is evident – teasing the bad legislation from the good.”

That task, thankless and arduous and irritating, was made more difficult by the series of minor disasters that had rocked Lhavit over the last year or so; many had involved magic in one capacity or another, and so even the sunny tranquillity of the accepting Lhavitian citizenry had been sorely stretched. Fear was terribly powerful, on occasion.

As Ignotus’ permission scattered the lesser Zeltivans in their delegation, the Shinya guards, acting in concert and doubtless organized by the Leth-marked telepaths in their ranks, also dispersed, leaving Alses and Ignotus with just her original protection detail, two guards that, with the ease of long practice, made themselves as unobtrusive as possible.

“Of course we have concerns,” Alses replied calmly. “You are a foreigner in our city, and your future conduct reflects upon me just as much as it does upon Zeltiva. That being said, we find you thus far intelligent and articulate – traits which lend themselves to not being egregiously stupid – and we doubt you’d admit to nefarious plans on the strength of a challenge from one of the Shinya.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, mouth curving upwards into a sardonic half-smile. “Unless you have some deep-seated compulsion to monologue like a villain in a wonder-tale, given the opportunity? In which case, Lord Ignotus Everto of the City of Zeltiva, do you intend, plan, or otherwise have device and reason or motivation to cause harm or ruination to the City of Lhavit, her citizens and her lawful government?” Alses left a brief pause, her face poker-straight.

“You’ll never get away with it,” she intoned, carefully deadpan, before suddenly animating once more.

“Alses will do, thank you. We have many titles; keeping them straight has always given us a minor headache. In truth, it took me a long time to understand the concept of a surname; we still haven’t adopted one. Most people here know us, anyway; it’s not really necessary to have one to distinguish us from the teeming masses.”

They were passing close to the imposing bulk of the Twilight Tower, now, and the air was full of the imperious calls of hunting birds – or more than hunting birds. The Tower had its own mews, that was true, but how many of the circling hawks and gyrfalcons were animals, riding the thermals, and how many were House Twilight Morphers, honing their skills?

Alses carefully did not reach to her magic to investigate; they were harming no-one up there, revelling in the feel of flight, and she could always claim to have been focused on Ignotus, should anyone ask.

“Our favourite place?” a wide grin split her face, sudden and white and blinding, like the sun at noonday. “Now that is a difficult one. Ordinarily we might take you to one of the tea-houses; Lhavit is famed for its tea, or else to the Comet or the Scholar’s Demise, but as you don’t eat and drink, that is perhaps in rather poor taste…the parks you can see any time…the hotsprings are just the job of an evening, but we have to wonder how well your body would hold up…really, many of our favourite places are quite unsuitable. Although – tell me, Ignotus, are you fond of music? We do hope you are.”

Alses was already moving, sweeping grandly along the broad, tree-lined boulevards that served as the arteries of the city, her feet swift and sure on the etched skyglass flags, the surety of intimate familiarity that spoke of long habitation. “We may as well head for Zintia in any case; it’s the central peak – convenient for everywhere, do you see? And I’m afraid you will always have to cope with civility, Ignotus; manners and custom are important here, and not everyone will make allowances.”

The monumental buildings of Zintia – the flamboyant buttresses, spires and domes of Koten Temple standing out even amongst the glittering panorama, the solid permanence of the Ethereal Opera and the green expanse of its copper dome, others - towered to the powder-blue sky as they drew closer on the broad rainbow ribbon of the bridge – a freely-supported arc of ornate skyglass – stretched out between the two tiered peaks.

Surya Plaza was packed, as ever, a tide of citizens shopping and resting and playing and staring and doing all the other things they did, but they made space for the Ethaefal and her entourage, a rippling bow wave of motion preceding them as they crossed the grand expanse of skyglass flags and statuary that was the forecourt of the Temple itself, Alses sparing the beautiful building not a glance as she passed it, resolutely keeping her head up and her eyes gazing off into the middle distance.

And if her pace quickened slightly, then it was only because of her anticipation.

The Opera itself wasn’t performing today; they were rehearsing for next season’s productions, the storied winter panoply that brightened an otherwise dark and gloomy time of year. Instead, it was the ballet corps taking front and centre stage for the wild and frenetic Rainfall and Fury, a savage and tempestuous tale of the Stormwardens and their relationship with the wild weather. It was a performance she’d seen many times before and always enjoyed, and in her mind Alses could already hear the first glorious bars of the sweeping musical score, Reshema’s Catastrophe suite done full, building-quaking justice by the colossal opera organ.

Outside, the Ethereal Opera was solid and massive and imposing, its frontage peppered with clusters of fluted pillars and scattered with allegorical Ethaefal statues, depicting Beauty and Reason and Poetry and Music and Song and all the rest of them. Inside…a monument to the baroque, lavish and extravagant on a very grand scale, every scrap of it painted or carved or gilded, a fantasy jewel-box display for the Diamond Opera Company and the Lhavit Philharmonic Orchestra both.

Alses had a box at the Ethereal Opera, a carefully sealed-off section of the central balcony, plushly appointed in rich red velvet and bracketed by two gilt Ethaefal caryatids, bearing with ecstatic equanimity the weight of the tiers above.

There were several wing-backed chairs in the small, private space, arranged in pairs and with a small bow-legged table between them; Alses selected one front-and-centre and sank gracefully into it without preamble, turning her gaze blankly outwards to the expanse of the theatre – mostly empty, for now, although as performance time came nearer and nearer the place would fill with the wealthy and the socially-mobile, dressed in their best and there as much to be seen as for the music.

“We have some time before the performance begins, but these boxes are comfortable and private. ‘tis just the ballet corps and the orchestra, today, rather than the Opera Company itself in full sound and fury, but, we assure you, it is none the less captivating for all that.”

She winced. “Poor choice of words there, perhaps. Unfortunate. But then, we were never very tactful. And speaking of…what is it you want, Ignotus? What brought the Lord of Council himself to Kalea, rather than a senior underling?”