Provocateur

Provocateur

                "Have you two heard about the ball Andrav's holding?" asked Vanna, returning from what Tadyel assumed was a midday check-in with her superior.

                "Of course," replied Tadyel. "Mostly because he doesn't want any of the 'riffraff' there. The refugees in town have been complaining almost incessantly."

                "I've heard a couple of things as well," added Mavnen. "Are you attending it?"

                "We are attending it," stated Vanna. "I should receive our invitations later today."

                "Uh," began Tadyel. She was pretty sure she was part of the 'riffraff' - the refugees.

                "He's been convinced to allow you two - my new assistants - to attend. I would leave the decision to attend up to you, but we have orders relating to the event. We're to attend and attempt to alter the attitudes of those there towards the refugees," said Vanna.

                "In what way?" asked Mavnen. "Working towards some kind of unity would damage our efforts."

                "Our mission is the opposite, with a little bit of nuance. We've been ordered to increase suspicion of any refugees that are simply hanging around - Ormgus's people and leeches. Those that find work, such as yourselves, are 'just fine'. What exactly you say to change the minds of the attendees is up to you, but you should have plenty of chances to do so on the night of the ball," explained Vanna.

                "First thing first, however," Vanna continued, "There's two weeks until the ball, and you both have absolutely nothing to wear. Let's take your measurements. Gel, you first." She held up her measuring tape with a happy grin.

                Finally, something non-violent, thought Tadyel. She smiled herself, and chuckled at Vanna's strange joy.

                Attending the ball meant that some of their evening training swapped from combat to dance. Tadyel learnt the 'strong' parts of each dance, and Mavnen the 'weak' - Vanna, of course, knew both. Learning the basics of a few dances was a nice change of pace from the complicated intricacies of advanced combat (though Tadyel sadly realised that advanced dancing would be just as complicated).

                It was also nice to be doing better than Mavnen at something new. It was weird, though. Tadyel worked hard during their training (as she did for everything she was being taught); but Mavnen seemed uninterested in learning to dance despite it being important for their mission. Well, almost important: Vanna had said that she could cope with the embarrassment if they made a complete mess of the dancing. But she would prefer not to.

                During the day they worked on their outfits when not busy with other orders. Vanna had decided that due to changing styles and her role as chaperone she needed a new dress herself. Tadyel had found their normal working pace quite hectic, but with numerous fancy outfits to be made (they were, after all, not the only ones attending the ball) their working hours managed to eat into their training time! Without Mavnen providing an extra pair of hands, they might not have been able to manage it.

                Mid-afternoon of the day before the ball they finally completed their work. Vanna's dress was truly exceptional. It was sleeveless and with only a small collar it reached down to her mid-thigh. The deep sea colour went well with the ocean blue of Vanna's eyes - like the shallows above and the depths below. The outfit also included a wide sash to be tied around the midriff and a matching pale blue coat. Vanna modelled it for her apprentice-agents; to Tadyel she was the image of a powerful noble.

                Mavnen's outfit consisted of a knee-length red skirt, a ruffled pink blouse and a red shawl that matched the skirt. They'd also made her some long white socks to cover (and warm) her legs, which completed the outfit. Unlike Vanna, who wore her outfit like she was born to it, Mavnen seemed out of place when wearing hers. Vanna noticed as well, and apologised. "It suits your size but not your attitude, I think," she said.

                Tadyel, however, beamed when she saw herself in Vanna's full-length mirror. I look like some kind of lordling, she thought. Her outfit consisted of slim-fitting almost-black pants, a leaf green blouse similar to Mavnen's (but less heavily ruffled), and a dark green jacket. Wearing, owning, something nice made her feel good, despite the looming mission.

                Lined up together they made quite the trio, identical dancing shoes completing their outfits. They had all dressed up together, to ensure their outfits were right and ready. Combined the outfits seemed to evaporate Mavenen's slight out-of-place-ness, and they just looked like three women ready for a ball. Which was, of course, the entire point.

                The ball was being held in Andrav's mansion, in the northern part of Green Creek. Most of the 'important' townspeople - the town council, shopkeepers, those with holdings outside of town, and a few rich socialites - were invited. Many were bringing spouses, relatives or children along. It would have been the biggest event that month even without Andrav's anti-refugee stance causing a bit of a stir.

                Andrav's mansion was a grand structure, three stories tall with a large ballroom at the rear that looked out over his garden. Andrav himself was a 'businessman', managing the affairs of his numerous inherited holdings spread near Green Creek. Tadyel found the idea of someone dedicated solely to managing the large number of places they owned quite odd - the Thrath had never organised, only demanded.

                The trio arrived at the mansion right on time along with several other guests. Mavnen and Tadyel received a few curious looks, but after their invites were checked and they were allowed inside the looks abated to an extent. Still, some were curious as to why known refugees were allowed as guests given Andrav's stance on 'riffraff'.

                "Wow," murmured Tadyel as the group entered the ballroom. She'd seen some nice dwellings in Green Creek (much better than what she had left behind), and the Magi's fortress had been very grand, but the ballroom was the first place her mind immediately called 'opulent'.

                The floor was tiled with smooth, deep red stone with what looked like cracks of yellow running through it. Rugs were scattered about the room, adding dashes of other colour and softer flooring. Atop some of the rugs sat plush couches, some already occupied by guests in a wide variety of clothing - some similar to that the trio war, others quite different.

                Towards the exits to the garden there was a slightly dipped area tiled with pure white stones. Vanna had mentioned it earlier; it was the dance floor. In one of the far corners a band was setup and playing some music, although it wasn't anything Tadyel had been taught to dance to.

                Throughout the room small and tall round tables gave guests places to rest finished drinks and uneaten nibbles taken from Andrav's servants, several of whom were making their way around the room. Lighting was provided by several quite regal chandeliers, and flowery decorations had been placed throughout to add some extra flair. All in all, it took Tadyel quite a while to take in; time the trio spent wandering inwards slowly.

                "Should I pick your jaw up from the floor?" asked Vanna, amusement in her voice. "I guess you've never seen the like."

                "No," said Tadyel, "Not even in - in the places we went past on the way north. The Thrath had destroyed any beauty." Vanna's eyes had widened for a moment when Tadyel almost mentioned the Magi.

                "So, are we to begin mingling immediately?" asked Mavnen. Vanna glared at her.

                "We shall greet the host first, then I will begin introducing you both around," said Vanna. "Come!"

                Vanna led the two women across the ballroom and towards a man who was by far the most colourfully dressed. His clothing was broadly similar to Tadyel's, but his pants were loose and cream-coloured, his shirt white and as frilly as Mavnens, and his jacket a strangely vibrant deep green. Capping it all off was his hat - a small white tricorne, with feathers of each colour of the rainbow spilling forth from the back. Tadyel was unsure of whether she found his outfit impressive or ridiculous.

                "Ah, the general clothier arrives with her two minions," said the man as the women approached. "Well-dressed as always; and I see you've used your two apprentices to complete a colourful trio."

                The man paused, examining all three closely before continuing. "Very well done."

                "Thank you, Andrav," said Vanna. "These are indeed my apprentices; Mavnen and Tadyel."

                "Hard to believe they came here as refugees," said Andrav, squinting as he inspected the apprentices closely. "Then again, I can't really tell myself. Perhaps some sort of marker is in order."

                Vanna sighed. "Your ball seems to be picking up rapidly," she said, looking over at the entranceway. Guests were arriving in large numbers, almost a constant stream of colour.

                "Indeed it does," said Andrav. "I'd be delighted to chat with you some more later, Vanna, but for now I must see to my duties as host. Oh! And of course, welcome to all three!" Andrav made his last comment as he began heading away from the group, as if he had just remembered at the last moment.

                "Time to introduce you both to some of the prominent villagers," said Vanna. "Ven, hover here for a moment."

                "Alright," said Mavnen as Vanna took Tadyel's arm.

                Tadyel was dragged by Vanna right across the ballroom to a trio of couches. Two were unoccupied, while the third was completely occupied by a middle-aged reclining woman. She was huge - at least a hundred and eighty-five centimetres tall, and broader than Tadyel. "Who's this?" she asked, as the pair approached.

                "Hello Juke," said Vanna. "This is one of my apprentices, Tadyel."

                "Oh, yes, one of the strays. I never thought you were one to be so kind, Vanna. What did bring about this recent charge of heart?" asked Juke.

                "Too much work at once, mostly," said Vanna. "I probably should have taken an apprentice years ago, but... I guess I wanted to push myself."

                "You always have been a hard worker, dearie. I'm probably one of the few that remember that you haven't always been here. We'd certainly not have someone reliable making half the clothes in this town," said Juke.

                Her comments made Tadyel realise that Juke was wearing the very long wrap Vanna had been working on for the past few days. It moved through several different colours, but rather than being in sections seemed to flow between them. Getting the dyes just right had taken Vanna quite a bit of time.

                "Thank you, Juke. Would you mind keeping Tadyel company for a while? I have-" began Vanna.

                "Oh yes, of course. This is a very good thing to bring them to, what with all the anti-refugee sentiment these days. Show everyone your little birds aren't a threat and all," Juke said with a chortle.

                Vanna smiled, then nodded her head and left Tadyel behind. "Well, don't just stand there, take a seat!" exclaimed Juke, waving a beefy hand towards one of the other couches.

                Tadyel took a seat, then said, "It's nice to meet you."

                "Good to meet you too! Vanna's been very busy of late training you and that other one she's taken in. Actually, a bit longer than that; she's been scarce socially for the past three and a part months. Quite unusual for her, I must say. It's good to see her out again - she always dresses to amaze," chattered Juke.

                "She did make herself quite the outfit," said Tadyel. "A new one, too."

                "It helps her drum up business, I'm quite sure. Why, if I hadn't seen some of her creations, I'd never have had her make my shawl here! I might have gotten the same from the dress-maker or the tailor, but never quite as quick. Truly I don't know how she does it."

                "I thought I recognised it," said Tadyel, short on things to say.

                "Oh, of course. Enough about Vanna. Tell me about yourself. How was it down on the Peninsula? And the journey, my, that must have been something."

                Cover time, thought Tadyel. "The Thrath are monsters. They delight in ... anything that hurts people. They only let us live so we could farm and do everything they don't want to. We weren't slaves - the Thrath didn't seem to care if we just left. But we had nowhere to go unless we risked the journey north, and... It's a long journey, and it's not remotely safe.

                "I only made it because of a cache my family had hidden. There are still people who will take jewels and other riches, if you can find them. I made my way along the mountain line - far out of the way of the Thrath - and crossed the desert alone. Only a little of it is real desert, so someone well prepared like I was can make it. Most... Aren't so well prepared."

                "Oh, I see. That must have been... Well, rather dull for you, my dear! How did your family manage to leave such a cache? Why not just leave?"

                "My family were hereditary counts, and my grandparents put the cache in place. As for why they didn't leave... It wasn't always as bad as it got, especially for my class. For quite a while we were trusted to manage our lands. That ended two decades ago. My grandparents were killed in the turmoil, and my mother injured too severely to make any journey.

                "In the years that followed my father died, and when my mother finally passed I took my chance and left. The walk was dull at times, yes, but I saw... horrible things, even along the mountains," explained Tadyel.

                "You poor thing. I must ask though, is it not odd to take up as a trade as a former noble?"

                "My family was relieved of our duties when I was very young. I've spent most of my life farming, though my parents made sure I was better behaved and taught than the common rabble," replied Tadyel, mixing some truth in with the lies.

                "It's a tragedy that one like yourself has been brought so low. But there is good in honest work!" exclaimed Juke, attempting to sound wise.

                "I have no other choice; pressing my claim against the Thrath would be... Difficult. I'm very grateful that Vanna decided to take me on as an apprentice. Otherwise I would have had to move on without a coin to my name."

                "You could always hang around like most of the refugees are."

                "I could not bring myself to beg, or expect endless charity."

                "Oh yes. It was alright to start with, but it's as if they expect the tap to never dry. They should be finding work or moving on!"

                "I - agree, actually," Tadyel said, surprised that the view she was supposed to espouse was one Juke already had. Then again, Tadyel's agreement would reinforce Juke's ideas; and she was certainly a boisterous one.

                "Swell! Now to get the damn leeches to as well." Juke huffed.

                "I'm not interrupting, am I?" asked Vanna, suddenly appearing between the couches.

                "Oh, just asking about her time down south," said Juke, "And complaining about the endless charity we're seemingly obliged to dispense!"

                Vanna smiled. "It sounds as if the two of you got along well. Unfortunately I have to steal my apprentice away to speak to a few young men and women now," she said, her smile shifting to a sly one.

                "Oh, daren't let me keep you. I could use a bit of young love to lighten my mood," said Juke. "By the by, you're never going to meet the right one yourself, are you?"

                "No, I don't think so," said Vanna, taking Tadyel by the arm and steering her away. Tadyel managed a quick wave to Juke as they departed.

                "Small secret," whispered Vanna to Tadyel as they navigated the ballroom, "I'm engaged to someone elsewhere."

                Before Tadyel had time to (inadvisably) ask for clarification, she was face to face with the next person Vanna wanted her to meet.

                The many conversations Tadyel had that evening quickly became a blur in her memory. Vanna would introduce her, she and the person would talk briefly (and always manage to talk about the other refugees, giving Tadyel the opportunity to slip in her 'views'), then Vanna would reappear to move her to the next person. In the background, she saw that Mavnen was being pulled about similarly. Tadyel hoped that she didn't look quite as lost, though.

                In fact, she thought she was doing rather well. Most of those Vanna had her speak to had (or at least, expressed) the 'correct' view during conversation, and the most exceptions were soppier types who thought not enough was being done. Only one individual had something against the 'peninsula people', and she was somewhat offputtingly vile. Vanna had apologised after that one when she saw Tadyel's expression.

                A handful of the chats were conducted while she danced with a partner, words briefly exchanged between the moves of the dance. The one that amused her most was a conversation with three others during the only larger group dance she had been taught; she spent so long laughing she forgot to bring up serious topics at all.

                It was a fun evening, despite it being a mission. Meeting new people was entertaining. They often made her laugh or oooh in interest. Andrav's guests - or at least, those Vanna wanted her to speak to - were mostly top notch.

                Late in the evening, Andrav appeared with Vanna by his side and asked her to dance. Vanna gave an almost imperceptible nod when glanced at, so Tadyel smiled and said "Sure."

                They made their way to the dance floor, and with a mutual bow they began the dance.

                "Apologies for interrupting you mid-conversation, Tadyel, but I long ago decided upon dancing with all the ladies in Green Creek at least once; and Vanna has convinced me that you are here to stay," he said as they began the dance.

                "For a few years, at least," said Tadyel, as their movements took them by one another. "Perhaps longer."

                "It's an honour to have one of noble blood such as yourself here. We sadly don't have a real nobility in our loose alliance of towns; just families with long histories and power." Tadyel stepped around behind Andrav.

                "That's often what nobility is. Sadly, the history of my house is now a pile of ash." Facing one another, the dancing pair joined hands.

                "But you will build it anew, no? Even if it takes generations." They stepped close, then apart, and released hands.

                "I will focus on building a new life here, but I doubt Green Creek greatly craves the control of nobility." Andrav stepped around behind Tadyel.

                "True, true. It is good to see that some of the refugees start building a new life. The others are growing tiresome. I having nothing but disdain for a man that does not work." As they span each other twice apiece, Tadyel noticed that Andarv was eyeing a rich, jobless heir he'd had no choice but to invite.

                "The others should be building new lives, finding work, if they stay. None of us can return home. I'm really worried about the... 'Followers', though. They don't work and they're not going anywhere. They want to fight the Magi! How can they do that with just what they're given?" Joining hands again, they span around, moving to another position as other pairs did the same.

                "Yes. Many of us find them quite worrying, even with their leader more than two months dead. If it were my choice, I'd see them gone." With a bow to one another, the dance was over.

                "Thank you for the dance," said Tadyel.

                "My pleasure. Savannah has taught you well. Or did you learn in the south?" asked Andrav.

                "I had no time to. The little free time I had was spent learning of my country, and my family," replied Tadyel.

                "I see. Savannah impresses as always. Please enjoy the rest of the ball - I do believe I shall track down your fellow apprentice for a dance," said Andrav.

                "I shall," replied Tadyel. With mutual short bows, the pair split off.

                The remainder of the evening passed quite quickly. Vanna appeared almost immediately after Andrav left and steered Tadyel onto the next conversation (and dance). By the end of the night Tadyel was pretty sure that she had talked to at least half of those attending the ball.

                The trio of provocateurs left as the ball was winding down, saying goodbyes as made their way out. While they walked, Tadyel snacked on the nibbles she'd plundered. They were delicious.

                "That was fun," she said, between mouthfuls.

                Vanna smiled, but Mavnen said, "That was pointless. They already hate the followers plenty."

                "It was still fun," said Tadyel.

                Vanna looked up and down the street, then said, "It reinforced what the already believed, which is important."

                "Important for what?" asked Mavnen.

                "Ensuring they keep hating the followers. Enough hate and they'll do our work for us and drive the followers out with fire and bloodshed," explained Vanna.

                "That's, um," said Tadyel, "Kind of horrible."

                "At least there is a point," said Mavnen, as she cracked her neck noisily.

Pool

These three were written about a week ago (as was the next Tadyel story, those will probably peter out with this next one or the one after).

This post marks one hundred and fifty posts this year. Which is a lot.

Pool

                The Countess of the Rivers of Riverjoin, Deep-Current-That-Pulls-Strongly, lay down on the bottom of her resting pool and sighed. It was very strange to be with child. She was eighty years old, very young for a river siren. Her mother had told her that their kind lived for thousands of years; and much longer if they spent time in hibernation, as her mother had.

                Deep ran her hand over her belly and smiled. "I can tell you're awake now, Rain," she said. She was twenty-seven months into her three year pregnancy. Her unborn daughter, Rain-Cloud-That-Shades-The-River, had been conscious for the past three months inside her womb. It was a quirk of river siren biology, intended to give them time to impart some secrets even before birth.

                There was not so many secrets for Deep to impart. Her daughter's former life had included learning that made her Deep's equal in sigil magic and many other academic pursuits. Using the powers river sirens possessed beyond the sigils would have to wait until after her birth, and the peculiarities of a river siren's nature had become common knowledge (Deep had found no reason to keep it secret).

                So instead Deep spoke of the rivers, and of their duty. At times she worried a little that Rain would not be connected to the rivers like she was. But that wouldn't happen. The rivers kept the river sirens alive (although fresh water baths could substitute). Even her resting pool, deep in her castle, was connected to the nearby river system through underground flows.

                Beaming, she looked around her resting pool. Several cave fish had found their way in and kept her company, their pale forms moving through the lamp-lit waters. Some hardy, colourful plants dotted the water, living off the minerals that flowed in from the cave waters. Having a resting pool was a luxury, but one Deep could easily afford as a Countess.

                Once she had proved herself very capable as a manager of the rivers, the Duke of Riverjoin had granted her a newly created county. It covered a long stretch of river, and extended up between several mountains and into many valleys. They were uninhabited beyond a few winged ones, who lived up the mountains - which were outside Deep's territory.

                The same winged ones had refused to allow the digging of mines into the mountains, which was why the region was uninhabited. It was fertile land, but there was plenty of that elsewhere in the duchies. The long stretch of river and low population made it the perfect place to found a new county. Over the past few years Deep had managed to found several prosperous farms and fisheries throughout the valleys. With the money she made, and a generous grant from the Duke, she had even built herself a castle in the middle of her territory, right beside the river and above several underground streams.

                A kick from within her belly informed her that Rain was awake. "Good morning," Deep said happily. "I'm going to sing a song my mother used to sing to me today."

                Feeling approval from Rain (or, thinking she did at least), Deep began to sing. The water echoed with her voice, as clear as it would be in the open air.

                "Awful folly of humans has spoilt the world,

                A strange contagion that spreads through all things,

                Against it many creations were hurled,

                And one amongst them is a siren who sings;

                Whenever the darkness clouds our clear rivers,

                We shall cleanse it with our power,

                While all of humankind hides and quivers,

                We protect, it is our hour;

                Dark mistakes were turned back through duty,

                Destined protectors made to fix the wrong,

                Diseased lands cleansed, restored to purity,

                Defenders now shall last long;

                So now the lands are bright once more,

                Saved by those they made to guard,

                Stalwartly we continue our duty for,

                Stopping the darkness together is not hard."

                "Swirl called it the 'Summary of the Ballad of Creation'. The full song is much longer, and your grandmother hasn't been able to translate it properly. The rhymes don't work in our language, or the first letter doesn't work. She even tried to rewrite it, but couldn't.

                "She never did teach me the language of the world she came from. 'It's no longer my home, and is not yours at all,' she said. 'So there is no point.' I always thought it would be fun to learn, though," said Deep.

                "I was taught about the full Ballad though. It tells the details of the 'Folly', and the 'Duty', and the vile corruption that continually plagued that world. It talks about all the other beings that were made, to cleanse the land, sea and air. It sounds almost like a war sometimes.

                "Even though the Ballad seems to set out why and even how our kind came into being, Mother wasn't sure about whether it was true. The humans of the era she was born in were powerless compared to the 'cleansers', yet they had once made them? She said that many others suspected that an earlier race that also bore the mantle of 'humanity' created them instead, rather than the magic-less beings of her time. Or perhaps that the corruption the cleansers fought had burnt the magic from humans.

                "With all the other things I've learnt of that place, I'm happy we are here. I suppose we couldn't be anywhere else, really, but... That world sounds like a tormented place. Sirens would often die young, wearied well beyond their years by the corruption. Swirl says that nothing in this world is like it, not even the worst magical pollution. This is a healthy world, even after the damage the portals did."

                Deep ran her hand over her pregnant belly. "It's time for me to get to work and send you gently off to sleep with all the minutiae of running a county and the rivers, my darling daughter," she said happily.

                As she swam swiftly to the surface of her pool, she was pretty sure she felt Rain's approving love. The feeling made her very, very happy. It would be a good day.

The Bubble

The Bubble

                The twelth grand expedition of the city state of Gemhold set off with great fanfare. The ceremonial marching band walked alongside them, playing a tune so grand and imperial it felt like the expedition had already succeeded. As they boarded their three ships (it was quite a large expedition) the Grand Mayor himself shook hands with the master of the expedition and waved farewell.

                They sailed east, across the entrance to the Aberrant Maw and along the coast until they reached a cove that formed a natural port. Leaving the ships manned with a skeleton crew, the expedition began travelling across the land towards their intended destination - the 'Bubble'.

                One of the largest strange phenomena left over from the 'portal era', the Bubble was a seemingly magical barrier with a diameter of roughly two hundred kilometres. It was also said to be perfectly circular - the edge had been traced by previous explorers, and if not perfect it was certainly close. Above it slowly curved inwards, and according to calculations by a clever scholar (with the help of a winged one flying high above) it seemingly had a height of roughly one hundred kilometres, curving much the same as it did along the ground. It was, seemingly, a bubble.

                While a strange phenomenon on its own, the Bubble is skirted by another. The 'Drained Lands' surround it, and seem to extend outwards from it in a similarly circular fashion. Being within this region causes lethargy and tiredness in humans, and very little life of any kind is present. Closer to the bubble the effect is stronger, but not by much. It tapers off quickly around a hundred kilometres away from the bubble. Many have theorised that the draining is somehow powering the bubble's existence.

                The expedition consisted of some of the greatest minds Gemhold had to offer. Great scholars, their lives dedicated to the study of all forms of knowledge. Many knew much of magic in its many forms - what if they could harness the power of the Bubble? Protect their city, their outposts, more? The possibilities seemed endless.

                There were two main goals for the expedition. Firstly, they were to dig down beneath the Bubble to ascertain whether it curved similarly below the ground. Secondly, they were to attempt to penetrate the Bubble using a variety of mechanical and magical means. Amongst the party were several sigil mages, others with innate talents (including some Psionese) and even a boring device brought all the way from Mechanis.

                One week into their travel the expedition reached the edge of the Drained Lands. None had noticed the exact moment they crossed into them, but all soon knew they had. One day, everyone was looking forwards to reaching the Bubble; the next was muted, quiet. Even the mostly lively of the expeditionaries seemed muted and ever-tired.

                It took the expedition nearly another week to reach the Bubble's northern edge, even though they travelled merely a third of the distance. Their equipment slowed them down greatly as they travelled the lifeless lands, and the draining forced them to rest more often than the norm. Some even considered giving up, but seeing the Bubble appear on the horizon gave them the surge of confidence they needed to make it there. A base camp was set up against the bubble itself, and plans of attack laid out.

                They spent three weeks poking, prodding, and digging around the Bubble. None of their attempts to breach it succeeded - weapons were useless, sigil magic had no effect, fire would not catch, and even the boring machine from Mechanis proved unable to pierce the barrier. The Psion gave the only intriguing report. Her power could not damage the barrier, but her ability to perceive was not limited by it.

                On the other side of the barrier was... Dead, drained land, just as lay on the side the expedition was on. The Psion had a theory that she was actually sensing the far side of the bubble, rather than its inside; but her findings gave some credence to the 'dead inside' theory that was held by some scholars. One of the scholars in the party, however, was keen to point out that the drained region might only extend as far as it did out here - leaving a one hundred kilometre diameter region inside undrained.

                The excavation to examine the Bubble's underside proved quite fruitful. After excavating a depth of roughly twenty metres (using the Mekanis boring machine to speed up their efforts) measurements indicated that the bubble was indeed curving inwards at exactly the expected rate. Further excavation confirmed the measurements; the expedition drank merrily that evening, invigorated even in the Drained Lands.

                One final week was spent attempting to break through the barrier at different locations, repeating prior experiments just in case persistence would pay off. The same results were produced, and the expedition was concluded. They packed themselves up and set off for the cove they had anchored their vessels within.

                All felt the moment they left the drained lands. It was as if, all of a sudden, everything was right. Their movements no longer felt like they were swimming through mud. The day was bright and they were alive! One of the more artistically inclined expedition members even wrote a poem inspired by the feeling. The rest of the journey to the boats passed in a blur for them all - time spent feeling strangely joyous, free from the drain.

                Again aboard their ships, they west to their home. The city state greeted them with little initial fanfare (none knew exactly when they would arrive), but a great parade was held some time later. Their achievements were heralded as being of the greatest scientific import, and only a few cynics scoffed at the pointlessness of it all. Another expedition was charted for two years time, and funds poured upon the expeditionaries’ other works.

                Before the next expedition, however, a traveller came through their lands. "Don't poke the bubble," she said. "Seriously."

                The city wisely headed the words of the great hero. There were other means of acquiring glory.

Sands of Life

Sands of Life

                "So ... 'Pur'fett' means life sands, sands of life?"

                "Yes."

                "So the north-west region's capital is-"

                "Sand Sand. Yes. The ancestors of my people were not particularly inventive when naming the land."

                Mitchell of Undershire, second son of the Baron of Undershire, stroked his scraggly beard thoughtfully. "How does one have 'sands of life', anyway? I've always wondered. The stories back home are a bit fantastical at times. I mean, one wouldn't expect so, we're only a voyage of a month apart and there are plenty of traders but the rumours!" he exclaimed.

                "As your guide, I will be happy to explain," said Heremefett. She had - through several traders who acted as intermediaries - agreed to guide the 'tourist' through her land. It was a strange thing, but apparently 'tourism' was taking off in the Duchies, and a few enterprising individuals were travelling far from home. Heremefett was mostly interested in Mitchell's money - and also in the money of those who might come after him.

                "Oh, that'd be ace," replied Mitchell. He was a lithe young man, and looked as if he was still growing into his frame. His skin was quite dark - a deeper brown than usual for the Duchies (or, at least compared to their traders). Even with her tan, Heremefett's skin was almost glowing in comparison.

                With a brief nod, Hermefett began her explanation. "Although it looks like a desert - almost identical to the Fearful Dunes beyond our northern borders - the Desert of Life is full of living things. The sands of life that make up the desert are crawling with insects, lizards, and many other animals adapted to the hot desert life. Some of these we farm, and others we hunt.

                "But what truly sets the Pur'fett apart is the plant life that lives below and above the sands. To us, it is not unusual. But I have travelled west to the banished enclave and seen 'trees'; I understand how unusual these plants are. They consist of two parts. The first part is a massive root system that grows deep within the sands, usually five or more metres deep. They are often too deeply buried for them to be unearthed without great difficulty.

                "The second part is likely much more fantastic for you. The root systems reach upwards every three months and grow 'pods' just below the surface. These large-" Heremefett indicated a sixty metre diameter "-orbs are filled with a strange liquid that is lighter than air. When fully grown, they are released and float high into the sky above."

                "What?" asked Mitchell incredulously, "Really?"

                "Yes," answered Hermefett. "While in the sky they gather energy from sunlight much as an ordinary plant would; the pods usually have several leafy branches dangling from them and are green themselves. When they have filled themselves enough they fall to the ground, and land near where they were released. Upon landing, they bust open and trickle their contents into the ground for the roots to absorb.

                "The leftover pod is eaten by many creatures, and can be eaten by humans too. But the real source of life for the towns in the sands is the liquid within the orbs. Farmers grow root systems that have been selected to produce many pods; then catch the pods once they return. The liquid contains much of what someone needs to survive; a few captured or farmed desert animals and you have all you will ever need.

                "That is why these are the sands of life; although some say that it is also the large number of animals that survive due to the pods that gave the sands their name." Heremefett finished with what she hoped was a charming smile.

                "That's amazing! But, wait. Why did I not see any on my trip here? I travelled quite aways along the coast! And why are there none above this city?" quizzed Mitchell.

                "Salt kills the root systems, and there is much in the sea and the shores. We'll see many as we travel in land, though," said Heremefett. "Actually, there is a museum here in Peria that should have several; and plenty of places that serve varieties of the liquid or food made with it. It's a staple here."

                "Oh ho! That sounds mighty tempting. Yes. Let's visit this museum; you can surely tell me more of your land and people while we tour it. And then we can lunch upon some nice exotic foods, yes yes yes," Mitchel said, grinning at the thought of delicious food.

                "Very well. Mount up and follow me," said Heremefett, hopping on her mount. Like Mitchell's (which he had just acquired) it was a camel-like creature, set apart by its strange jaw. It was also a bit smaller than a camel and thus easier to mount.

                As they began making their way through the neatly laid out streets of Peria, the capital of the Sand-Given Empire, Heremefett wondered whether her scheme would pan out. Making money off 'tourists' would be great, but would travelling so far (and spending a fortune - the amount Mitchell was spending shocked Heremefett, even though it was less than many nobles in the Empire had) really catch on? Would it catch on amongst the Empire's own nobility?

                The amount Mitchell was paying her assuaged her worries. It was more than enough - even if she never gave another tour again the coming days would be worthwhile. Heremefett smiled. Compared to her other plans, other jobs, guiding a genial fool around was blissfully simple. Why she'd ever thought advanced mathematical analysis of farm production would work she didn't know. Sure, she got the numbers, but what the heck would she ever have done with them?

                It wasn't long before she realised she should be telling Mitchell about anything interesting they passed, instead of ruminating on old times. "So, just up ahead," she called back to him, "There's a fountain built to commemorate the death of the previous Emperor."

                "Awesome!" replied Mitchell with a grin.

                Heremefett barely managed to avoid a glare. If there are more, I hope they're not all this annoying, she thought. Or else I might just kill one of them.

Robber

Robber

                Somehow Mavnen began beating Tadyel when they sparred inside of two weeks. Vanna had been impressed with Tadyel's progress; Mavnen's left her flabbergasted, and Tadyel kind of embarrassed. It wasn't even as if Mavnen had been trained before - she simply took to fighting like a natural (and with great interest).

                Her aptitude for their day work was similarly good, but her interest far less. Whether she surpassed Tadyel depended on the task in question. It was enough for Tadyel to feel less resoundingly outdone, at least.

                "I think she's far more suited to my style of fighting than you," confided Vanna one evening, after she returned from a mid-session trip to her room. "A style leveraging off your strength would suit you better."

                Before them Mavnen was moving gracefully through an advanced drill - she was nowhere near as precise as Vanna, and her movements lacked strength, yet she had progressed significantly further than Tadyel. Tadyel had mostly won in sparring matches through strength alone for the past few days.

                "Which you can't teach me," said Tadyel, softly. She frowned. "There aren't any other options though, right?"

                "Unfortunately you're correct. We might have some more options soon, however," answered Vanna.

                "Done," said Mavnen, finishing the last of her exercises. "Another spar, Gel?"

                "Maybe," replied Tadyel.

                "After this," said Vanna. "We've been given orders. Some refugees further north were convinced to send weapons down here for various agitator groups, including Ormgus's people. We found out about it when the Higgins groups became well armed overnight."

                "There's more than one group over there?" asked Mavnen, curious.

                "Yes. Three, in fact. All three were armed, so this may be a primarily charitable move instead of one against us. Putting that aside, the shipment headed here is drawing close. Our orders are to eliminate those travelling with the shipment, take anything of significant value, and withdraw before the town guard arrive. It should only be lightly guarded - four people at most, likely just two," explained Vanna.

                "The shipment should arrive around noon in three days’ time, so we shall ambush it two days from now, in the morning. Horses have been arranged - do you know how to ride?" asked Vanna.

                "A little," answered Tadyel.

                "No," answered Mavnen, her reply almost simultaneous with Tadyel's.

                "Then we'll leave late tomorrow night," said Vanna, her decision made. "Back to training. Gel - go through the last set of exercises again; Ven, you're soft-sparring against me."

                "Got it," came the simultaneous reply.

                The rest of the evening was spent training, followed by some clothier-work. Vanna hoped that waking later than usual would help them all be awake when they ambushed the shipment. It had sounded like a solid plan, but Tadyel felt exhausted after eight hours of sleep. That's more than the six I normally get, she wondered at the time, why am I sleepy...

                Despite the late start the rest of the day passed normally. Sewing, joining, cutting patterns out, deliveries; the usual business of the general clothier shop. It was only after the sun went down that things diverged from normal.

                Rather than beginning training after their evening meal the three women headed to a house on the edge of town that belonged to Vanna's brother. "The cover is that we're going there to ensure it's still in good shape, and also to stay overnight in case the rumoured squatters appear," said Vanna, before they left. She told the story to the handful of people they ran into on their way over as well.

                Vanna's brother's house was a little way out of town, and was luckily out of town in the direction the trio needed to head. After a couple of hours in the building (partly spent giving it a quick once over) they left, heading through the overgrown garden and to the road. All three wore clothes they had never worn before (and would not again), and had hoods to conceal their identities when necessary.

                Walking in the dark was a little difficult, but it was not long before the trio reached what they were looking for. Just a short distance off the road, tethered to a tree, was a pair of horses. Tadyel would ride one, while Mavnen was to sit behind Vanna on the other.

                Although Tadyel barely knew how to ride, the horse chosen for her was a calm animal used to poor instruction (in Vanna's words). The choice was good; Tadyel had no trouble riding the animal at all. At least, not while they travelled at a medium speed.

                "Where'd the horses come from?" asked Mavnen, during their journey. Tadyel had been wondering the same, but knew it was unlikely that Vanna would give a proper answer.

                "Several people have lost horses each week over the past month. They don't get far, it just seems that 'someone' has been letting them loose. When we get back near town, we'll just let the horses go loose ourselves, and none will be the wiser," explained Vanna.

                "Clever," murmured Mavnen. Tadyel barely caught it as she rode alongside them. The conversation made her wonder where the saddles came from if the horses had been pinched.

                It took a fair few hours of riding, but soon enough Vanna said "We're getting close."

                "We know exactly where they are?" asked Tadyel, curious.

                "Yes. We know where they camped, at least," answered Vanna. "See the dip just ahead? They camped off to the right, behind those trees. There were only two of them when they camped - one driving the wagon, the other a hired guard."

                "Do we have a plan?" asked Mavnen.

                "We'll head off the road and leave the horses tied in the dip, then sneak up through the trees. They're probably both asleep - there aren't any threats out here. We kill them and their horses, then dump the weapons on the road," said Vanna.

                "Should we really kill them?" asked Tadyel. "They're not part of Ormgus's group - just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

                "The driver is a member of one of the other agitator groups. The guard admittedly has no allegiance, but letting them flee will give too much evidence of our identities and potentially result in the weapons getting to their intended destination. Their life isn't worth the risk," said Vanna.

                Tadyel sighed. "Alright," she said.

                "Sure you're cut out for this?" asked Mavnen.

                "I'll be fine," replied Tadyel.

                "Actions matter, not words or worries," said Vanna.

                The group entered the dip. Vanna slipped off her mount gracefully, and said, "We'll tie them off over there." She pointed at a nearby bush.

                Tadyel clambered off her horse somewhat haphazardly as Vanna helped Mavnen down. "Quiet from now on, unless we need to plan," said Vanna after they tied the horses to the bush. Mavnen and Tadyel nodded their understanding.

                The trio crept up the other side of the dip, and into the copse of trees on the other side. There was little light beyond the stars above (barely enough to see by); it seemed the camp had no fire - if it was there. Tadyel was slightly worried about that. Her worries passed when a horse brayed nearby, just before the group reached the far side of the copse of trees and peered out.

                The area looked like a fairly frequent campsite; grassless and marked at the edges with several rocks. In the centre was a ring of stones that had been used countless times as a fireplace. Seeing it made Tadyel recognise the smell she'd picked up walking through the copse - it seemed the nearby trees served as an outhouse.

                A large cart was parked at the far side of the clearing, a pair of sleeping horses tied to a post nearby. Rugged up and leaning against the cart was a woman wearing chain mail, sound asleep. Pacing nearby (and frequently rubbing his chin) was a worried looking man. Unarmed and shorter than average, he was remarkably unthreatening.

                Vanna signalled for the group to put their hoods up, and unhooked her crossbow from her back. "Go when I shoot," she whispered, loading a bolt.

                Against Tadyel's expectation, Vanna took aim at the sleeping guard and fired. The guard awoke with a scream. As she ran out from behind the tree Tadyel was pretty sure she heard Vanna mutter "Shit."

                The guard was on her feet in moments, sword drawn. Her shield lay beside her untouched - Vanna's bolt was sticking through her left arm. She winced as moved into a fighting stance. "Come on then!" she yelled.

                As for the driver, he was already running away. "I'll catch him!" shouted Mavnen, rushing after him. So much for keeping quiet, thought Tadyel.

                Tadyel drew her sword and edged towards the guard. Despite her wound she held her sword as if it was an extension of her body. She also looked very tough, and was sizing Tadyel up as well.

                What the guard saw made her immediately start attacking, putting Tadyel on the defensive. For someone with a bolt through one arm she was remarkably fast and strong - she winced a bit, but was easily able to push through the pain. Tadyel would have been quite impressed if she had time to do anything but react to the barrage.

                Luckily Tadyel had one advantage - mobility. She backed up, keeping out of the guard's proper reach and deflecting rather than blocking her blows. Then she saw an opportunity - an opening - and took it, slicing her blade up and across the guard's torso.

                Nothing happened. Tadyel's blade slid across the links of the chainmail the guard was wearing without any effect beyond pressing it into the guard, nicking a few links. If the guard hadn't instinctively jumped backwards (the slash ended rather close to her face) Tadyel would've been in a bind.

                After jumping backwards, though, the woman smiled. Tadyel was fairly sure about why she smiled: she had realised that her foe had no knowledge of armoured foes. It was weird to see her smile with an bolt through her arm.

                The smile left her face immediately when a second bolt slammed into her chest. She coughed and gently touched it with her sword, almost as if she was checking whether it was real. Then, with very little noise, she fell to her knees, then forwards.

                A furtive, sword forward check for a pulse let Tadyel know she was unconscious. She did what Vanna was almost certainly about to order her to do - jam her blade through of the guard's neck, killing her.

                Vanna nodded with approval as she approached. "Help me with the wagon," she said.

                A quick inspection of the wagon found nothing of interest - it was packed full of practical but low quality weapons. Even the blade Tadyel wielded, which was quite plain compared to Vanna's, was a vast improvement over the gear within the wagon. With the check done, Tadyel and Vanna quickly trashed the wagon completely. They emptied its contents, shattered its wheels and even managed to remove one of the axels. The horses were cut loose - killing them was pointless with the wagon destroyed.

                Mavnen returned just as they cut the horses loose. She looked at them, but seemed to quickly pick up the idea behind it. That, or she didn't really care.

                "What happened to the driver?" asked Vanna, tossing aside the warhammer she had used to break the wagon.

                "I caught him," said Mavnen, holding up her bloodied blade.

                "Show me the body," ordered Vanna. Mavnen wiped her blade and sheathed it before beckoning the other two agents to follow her.

                The driver was a fair distance away. It seemed that Mavnen had managed to outlast him in the chase, catching up only when he had tired. He was also very definitely dead - he had a very large number of bloody stab wounds.

                "Looks like he took a lot of killing," said Vanna, as she checked the pulse.

                "Y-yeah. He just wouldn't die," stammered Mavnen.

                Vanna stood up, apparently satisfied that the man was dead. "Next time just stick your sword in his spine, or brain, or heart," suggested Vanna. "Time for us to leave. Follow me - we're heading straight back to the horses."

                Mavnen and Tadyel followed Vanna silently back to their mounts. Their mission was completely, and it was scarcely past midnight. We might even catch some sleep when we get back, thought Tadyel, happily. Finding it strange that she could be happy, she tried to think about the killing but her tiredness stopped her from forming any coherent thoughts.

                Stymied, Tadyel decided that she'd ask Mavnen about it once the group were mounted. Seeing as she was halfway mounted when she had the thought, she didn't have long to wait.

                "Ven, do you... Do you think we really needed to kill both of those people? I mean, we could've taken the guard by surprise at least," Tadyel muttered after mounting her horse.

                "We could have, if we were lucky," said Vanna. "But it would've been risky."

                "I don't want to take risks for people we're working against," added Mavnen. "So they needed to die to achieve what was best for us."

                Tadyel frowned at the responses, and said, "I guess it would've been very risky." She sat glumly on her horse as the trio made their way back up the road. Mavnen's response worried her a little - would she be so cold about doing what was best for her alone?

                I hope not, Tadyel thought.