Foreign Quarter

It was assumed that everyone would go along with the quest out of their good nature. Huo asked that the group pause before setting out too soon, on the pretense that they plan the trip a little bit further.

Huo spoke skepticism, and that left him surprised and thinking. He wanted to wait before deciding, but everything that built up to that very point contrasted with that notion. He boarded Eiraendar’s ship on a whim. He agreed to work for his fare on a whim. He walked the steps to the tavern on a whim. Did the sisters of fate guide his steps? Or did he possess the faculty of choice? These questions left him up that night.

If he could not sleep, then he would do the next thing he knew.

The sun had barely risen, but the Osu fighter found himself within the courtyard of the caravansary that he stayed at. Bertholdt secured them decent lodgings in the Foreign Quarter with little expense to their travel funds because he knew the owner of the inn as a friend. Huo valued the mouse’s quick thinking and resourcefulness. Whether the Osu trusted him yet, that was another matter.

Huo found himself some space among the tiled ground. Colonnades spanned the length of the rectangular courtyard. A small fountain sat in the center, water gushing in near silence.

The fighter threw a punch at the air, followed by successive half fists.

Then a swift uppercut.

A southpaw followed.

A smooth jab.

Three sharp crosses.

More light half fists at an invisible target whose head bounced back after each hit.

“Care for a spar?” a voice interrupted Huo’s little session.

Surprise overtook the Osu, he thought everyone to be asleep now. He turned to see the face of the orc Jolloc. He leaned against one of the columns with folded arms as though he had been watching for a time. Huo exhaled and popped his neck.

They spent minutes trading fist for fist, neither of their attacks landed for both proved quick and agile against the other. Kicks and more advanced moves followed.

-

Though it seemed clear to any observer that Huo held the upper hand near toward the end, Jolloc asserted the fight to be inconclusive. Huo cared not, he succeeded in his objective. Quieting his mind.

They rested as the sun rose, letting their sweat dry.

Jolloc loosed a half chuckle, “You fight well with your fists…for a human. Though we tied, rest assured things would be different with swords.”

“I bet,” Huo replied.

The orc shook his head, “Cocky bast-“

“So you’re not an orc, I’m guessing,” Huo took a swig from a canteen while leering at Jolloc.

“What gave it away?” Jolloc brushed his hair, “My hair? Or my facial bone structure? Or the fact that my fangs are better off stuck into cheese than rocks?”

Huo shrugged.

Jolloc continued, “I’m a half orc, but I prefer to be known as an orc. My father left my mother, so I surrender all claim to my human side. Besides, humans disgust me,” when Jolloc noticed Huo had arched his brows, “Some humans disgust me. The kind that sees me as nothing more than a savage,” he stared off at the sun.

The Osu fighter nodded.

Jolloc glanced at Huo, “You don’t have the least bit of an aversion to me.”

Huo gave it some thought, “I’m no different than you are. And if by savage, you mean mindless or bloodthirsty? You don’t need green skin to be a monster.”

Jolloc nodded with a smile, “I can drink to that.”

A voice called to the both, “Gents,” and they turned to see Lir.

“We’re having a group meeting in the main courtyard. Did you both sleep well?” the mage smirked.

“No thanks to you and Antius,” Jolloc replied with a grin and sprang to his feet.

Lir groaned, shook her head, and rolled her eyes and left them.

-

Their little group gathered around a table beneath some palms planted in the airy courtyard of the caravansary. Antius, Bertholdt, Caspian, Danairia, Huo, Jolloc, Lir, and Sanvi.

The group agreed, by majority not unanimity, to let Bertholdt measure the coin for the group to use over the span of the expedition. Before setting out, they also required a proper plan lest their supplies and currency dwindle before they reached their destination. In addition, they needed to consult a map to determine the approximate location of the oasis. Bertholdt acknowledged, with insight, that the whereabouts for a near-mythical oasis was not common knowledge. The likeliest place to possess any inkling of their destination should be a repository of information, the library.

At Bertholdt’s suggestion, they first decided to spend a day or two in Khi’ir to plan accordingly. Given the desert to be home to thieves and cutthroats, they needed to understand the guarded trade routes. Knowledge of rest stops were necessary, for the further inland they went, the lesser the hospitality of the land and its natives. None of these provisions, had Huo given thought to, and it seemed a wonder that he made it this far on his own.

Bertholdt stood on the table, so that he was at least chest height to everyone there, “We will need to seek out the nearest library to search for maps and atlases. I trust official published work more than the word of street vendors. The deserts can be tricky, I’ve...”

“Wait, so you’ve never gone into the desert before?” Lir placed a hand on her hip with a cocked brow.

“I have gone to real places in the desert. We’re talkin’ about a mythical oasis here,” Bertholdt’s crisp reply elicited sideways glances, their journey seemed trickier than they thought.

Lir pursed her lips, “Fair point.”

Bertholdt spoke, “I think so. At any rate, maybe one or two of you could tag along. Three heads are better than one at researching. Mister Antius? Miss Lir?”

“May I tag along as well,” Caspian suggested.

The mouse shrugged, “Eh, sure kid, if you know how to read,” to which Caspian nodded.

“We’re settled then?” the mouse sprang from the table and onto the floor, a display of dexterity and balance.

“So are we to leave Sanvi, Jolloc, and Danairia in the same place then? I think Huo would have his hands tied trying to babysit all of them,” Lir gestured to them.

“Whoa, hey now, I actually managed to put some pants on today,” Jolloc half-grinned, he looked at Sanvi for a reaction, “And I consider myself a firm believer in pantless holidays.”

Bertholdt smacked his face with his hand and groaned.

“She’s right though,” Huo said with nonchalance and folded arms, which by this point, everyone realized to be his usual disposition, “I don’t babysit.”

Everyone looked at him.

Huo glanced around, “That wasn’t like…a punchline.”

“Hah! Punch. Good one,” Jolloc jabbed him on the shoulder, “That’s your thing.”

“Maybe it would be better if Danairia went in my place,” Lir offered.

Bertholdt almost recoiled, “To a library? Her? No offense, er- Miss Dana?” the Muscum cleared his throat and massaged his forehead, “Okay, I could only take you if you promise to stay out of trouble…and based off yesterday, that seems…just please don’t have the town watch chase after you again. We’re lucky they didn’t have a squad mage with them.”

Jolloc spoke, “In the meantime, though, maybe the rest of us can at least buy some provisions for the road? Grab a camel or two? Or at least, breakfast?” and as he said that his stomach growled.

“After we come back, maybe we can decide then. In the meantime,” Bertholdt glanced at Sanvi, uneasiness in his eyes, “Try not to break anything.”

"A library, huh. I haven't had the chance to visit one in two years," Antius, noted stroking his chin wistfully. Two years was hardly a long time in the grand scheme of things, but it had felt like decades in the colliseum. Absently, he reached to grip Lir's hand before nodding his assent to the plan.

"I will make sure that Dana does not leave nasty surprises in the books. We do not need to be kicked out of the city and we would most certainly deserve it if we damaged their collection," he noted before frowning thoughtfully, "Speaking of which, how are going to access the library? The Academy required at least two letters of recommendation or the visitor to be of a sufficiently high rank. I confess that I am ignorant of this city's customs, but we are strangers here. Surely they won't trust us to peruse their scollection without supervision and word will most likely get out. People as... Unique as ourselves do not go unnoticed and rumors flow though the streets of places such as this."

When they had finished the planning stage of their day, Antius eagerly made his way through the city. He loved the smell of spice and incense in the air, even mingled with sweat and dung as it was. He had always wanted to see the world and visit its places of knowledge. Now, it seemed, he was living his dream. He moved about the crowd confidently, as if he was one of importance and though his clothes were more ragged than they once were, they were still well-made and this, combined with his manner, convinced many people to give him space.

He smiled in delight at the onion-roofed building before them. It was easily among the biggest in the city. He eyed the murals in appreciation and awed at the stone white columns. He grinned as he approached its entrance.

"I only wish that Lir was here to see this. We spent much of the night talking about it," he noted before a pair of bored looking guards barred their entrance. He sighed long-sufferingly. Their first obstacle.

"We are scholars on a pilgrimage to this great place of learning," he stated, as though he was used to saying such a thing and a little bored with the routine, "Please, let us through."

The night before.

The alleyways of Khi’ir proved uneventful and welcomed the seedier and shadier life of Khi’ir. At night, even moreso. In one alley, a pair of shadows stalked past the street lanterns. A man and a woman, they scouted their location. Once they observed a lack of bystanders, they spoke in hushed voices.

“So he’s with them?” said one voice, a woman’s.

“Yes, they don’t suspect anything about him,” the other, a man’s voice.

“What about the gold?”

“He’ll have it, get it from him. If he goes alone, you can take it. I wouldn’t advise you to nick it from him if he’s guarded. We can at least wait several days out when more of your people are around.”

“Well, then it wouldn’t be much a thievery, would it? That’s outright banditry. Milo, you know we’re not bandits.”

The man spat, “Bandits? Thieves? Is the distinction necessary?”

The woman ran her fingers down the side of the man’s face, “Always.”

He pulled her hand away coldly, “If you insist,” and he flicked her hand away from his face, “Anyway, I must go now.”

-

The dwellings and markets disguised the library that stood in the Foreign Quarter, which was built before the days of the Imperial Crusades. It stood there before foreigners arrived in droves and claimed that part of Khi’ir as an expatriate enclave.

When the invaders came, the sheikh surrendered with open arms to the overwhelming numbers of the Imperial armies. Emperor Uriel Loenthil had none of it. A siege followed and the Imperials sacked and burned the city. The small library, however, survived in spirit. Several adroit and courageous antiquarians hurried and saved the many texts and scrolls in a secret cellar chamber beneath the main hall. Years after the Imperials departed, did the children of the scholars unearth the trove of knowledge. The sheikh soon commissioned the library’s construction as a monument to knowledge.

It was a small library when compared to the larger reservoir of texts found within the schools of magic throughout Khi’ir. Even then, it possessed a large trove of books itself, with a decent collection of worldly texts due to its location with the Foreign Quarter. Foreign scholars frequented the place often.

Bertholdt led Antius, Danairia, and Caspian up the steps to the white columns of the western entrance. Giant murals of Dumic calligraphy, etched by hand, adorned the exterior walls. The turquoise gem colored onion dome gleamed under the near noon sun.

A pair of figures shadowed them at a distance.

"We won't be able to get to them, especially not in front of those guards," the first figure said.

The second figure nodded in agreement and the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

“Salaam aleikum,” Bertholdt bowed before the three guards, as his foreign accent barely covered his Dumic pronunciation.

Antius’ forwardness surprised him, but the mage said everything that Bertholdt himself would have said. The mouse walked on through and waved at them to follow.

The guards looked at each other, exchanging a queer glance when they passed.

“You don’t need to beg for entry, mister Antius. Knowledge in the cities flows freely. I’m guessing public libraries are far and few in Dessor? Nevermind that though,” Bertholdt led them on.

Once they passed through the outer archways, they entered a large sprawling sehan. Like the exterior dome, turquoise colored tiles covered and decorated the interior flooring, the walls, and even the archways. More calligraphy and murals created a near endless pattern across the arcades.

A central pathway, flanked by ankle-high shrubbery rows, ran through the courtyard underneath several pointed arches. In the middle of the pathway, a series of rectangular reflecting pools set apart at intervals for a crisscrossing of walkways. At the center of each pool stood a large bowl where curtains of water spilled over the edges in calm fashion.

Bertholdt led them through the sehan where a mixed crowd of denizens chatted in open air, though their voices stayed low. The crowd included scholars, magi, and literati from various lands. A few spells were demonstrated here and there for the sake of entertainment. The textures of magic wove throughout this tested center of knowledge. Sapphire crystal lanterns lit the way for the sake of aesthetic during the day, but they became the eyes of spirits in the night. The voices mixed and gave life to the library, perhaps subverting a foreigner’s expectation of libraries as stodgy and dusty quiet respites for the recluse.

-

Within the old library, Niobe Martel wandered between the near sky high shelves. She used her hammer like a walking staff as she searched among the near endless catalog of tomes. The dwarf was an odd sight in a library, most dwarves who lived above ground preferred to live among their own communities. She passed by several D’homani mages, who glanced at her from behind.

She was different because she was a mage, but because she was a mage, she belonged there.

“Ah, here we are,” she reached toward a shelf and retrieved her chosen tome.

Ollian Runic Enchantments. She sifted through the book, but her ears perked as she heard an interesting conversation overtake the air just a shelf over.

“We are looking for a map to Biel’Guria,” one voice said.

“Biel’Guria?” the girl responded.

Niobe recognized that voice as belonging to one of the librarians, a young D’homani woman named Ehsa.

Another man’s voice interrupted, “Where can we find maps concerning the deserts?”

Ehsa exclaimed, “Oh yes, you can find those near the back, there should be cartographer volumes there.”

“Thank you,” a shuffling of foosteps followed.

Niobe’s interest was caught.

“A day on the street, a fine day,” Jolloc walked with both of his arms crossed on his head to reveal his flexing biceps beneath his spaulders, “You agree?”

Huo paid no heed to Jolloc as his eyes wove through the crowded and buzzing marketplace. A multitude of voices clamored. Syel’Breh had yet to reach its conclusion as the smell of incense and myrrh alongside fresh yams and sweet bread congregated in the air.

“We could have waited for them to come back before heading to the market…” Lir said, “Though, I don’t mind a day out in the city. It’s certainly a change of scenery.”

She preferred to walk in front of Sanvi in case the Kaleth girl forgot restraint and brushed her aside with those wings into one of the stalls. Lir ambled with her hood drawn back. She no longer feared the assassins as she did back in Dessor. Though she did keep a wary eye every now and then, but the Foreign Quarter made it more difficult for her to distinguish an Imperial from a native.

“I agree, the fresh air is good for all of us, but you especially Miss Lir,” Jolloc’s eyes turned to her, “That old man…” he shook his head, “Are you two really a couple? I never would have pictured…” a coy smile spread on his face.

“One, he’s not an old man, why does everyone think that… And two that’s none of your business,” Lir dashed her burning green eyes at the orc briefly.

“Well it becomes my business when another man enters territory that I thought was fair game. I want to know if I still have a chance,” Jolloc chuckled.

“Territory? Why are we even talking about this?” Huo scoffed, “You don’t ever turn off the crap that spews out of your mouth, do you?”

Jolloc produced a false exaggerated pout.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Huo walked on.


Lir cut between the two of them, “Even if I wasn’t taken, you lack the maturity that I look for in a man. You never had a chance to begin with, darling. Don’t bother trying.”

Jolloc’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’, but his cheeky brows said everything. He followed his upturned lip with an exhale. He plucked a coin pouch from his belt and sifted through the many coppers and few silvers within.

“I forget that it’s Syel’Breh, there won’t be any meat until sundown,” the orc perused the various vendors and bazaars to find something filling.

“What is Syel’Breh? Some sort of holiday?” Huo glanced at the crowd, he suspected the people of Khi’ir had a reason to be festive. He never pegged anyone to be of the festive sort by nature.

The kids played along the half dirt half paved street of the assorted marketplace which seemed to grow and spread organically.

“It’s a holiday to celebrate the goddess of the moon, Zerysh,” Jolloc said, “We Syakhi, believe her to be the patron of fertility and growth.”

“Back in Dessor, the moon is known as Khylas, and he’s a god. But I don’t think he’s given this much respect,” Lir thought that little fact about the moon to be interesting.

“Ah, yes, I forget, all of you are from Dessor, no?” the orc nodded.

Huo would have refuted that, but he chose not to make much of it. Even if he spent most of his life there, he had been born in Syakh. However, details about his life were not important to anyone other than him.

“Best you get used to the culture here, you might appear disrespectful if you didn’t. Cities on the coast like Khi’ir, and especially places like this quarter, are lenient, but deeper in, if you fail to observe the customs or traditions,” Jolloc pretended to cut his neck with a forefinger.

“What is the penalty?” Lir asked, she preferred an exact answer. Typical of mages.

“Well, some places, take Asyral for instance, ban the use of magic by foreigners. Guards will have little stopping them from executing foreign mages.”

“How archaic!” Lir gasped, her brow knotted.

The orc shrugged, “It seems archaic to you, but it’s tied to the delicate matter of politics in this land,” his voice turned somber, “It’s for those reasons that insurgent groups like the Intifada formed. It’s all very complicated. I haven’t really grasped the nuances myself, but I’d rather spend time earning coin instead.”

“A noble pursuit,” Huo quipped.

The marketplace in the Foreign Quarter oddly agglomerated and continued to mesh as they ventured further. Various fabric cloths draping across buildings above the city streets along with the clotheslines provided shade. As the sun shone through their fibers the colors blanketed the faces of the crowd. The Osu found a vendor with pastries and fruits laid bare for them.

“Salaam aleikum,” the man said, which Huo understood.

Dhaxi taught him that it was a common Dumic greeting, mostly reserved for D’homani or natives of Syakh.

“You like apples, sahib? My pastries are with apple filling,” the baker gestured to his goods.

They paid for a few of the pastries and ate them as they went on. Huo considered it decent, but he could eat gruel without complaint as well. Lir’s journey had been paved without the comforts of delicious homecooked meals that she may have been used to back at home being a noblewoman herself. Her taste yielded before her survival when they first conflicted.

“I think we should talk to Captain Eiraendar,” the Osu fighter turned to the mage, “Maybe have him ready on the other side of the desert with his ship to take us back to Dessor.”

“I doubt he’ll be so kind as to wait for us on the far side of a continent, we don’t even know where our trek will lead us and where the nearest port will be afterward,” Lir interposed.

Huo nodded, she had a point.

Jolloc nudged Sanvi, “I’ve always wondered what it feels like to have wings. I imagine them to be cumbersome and annoying. You’ve been quiet, care to give your thoughts on our little expedition, thus far? We haven’t left, but input from everyone involved could go a long way.”

While the others continued strolling, Lir stopped at a stall and eyed some of the work on the kerchiefs. She stooped to touch the soft silk with her fingers. It reminded her of her mother’s. She wondered how her parents fared back at home. She wondered if they had already been executed for treason.

A man interrupted her thoughts, “Fine work, isn’t it?”

Lir heard the man’s crispness of accent when he spoke Common. She thought his voice to be deep with grating sophistication. She turned to see the man who spoke. He had a square jaw, dark blue emblazoned eyes, and dark brown hair.

“Yes, a fine work,” Lir nodded to him, “Though, I must say I’m quite surprised to meet a man who shares any inkling of interest in fabrics.”

The man chuckled, “One in a million. Paecus Ixipas, I am a merchant of fabrics myself. I find it helpful to peruse about the assorted fashions of the day.” he said and looked at her.

“Lir Syoelle,” the mage nodded.

She caught his eyes again for a split second, but she felt different. She suddenly froze. A burning sensation dragged across her spine. Her breath slowed to the point where she could hear each individual inhale. Fear.

Lir smiled and left.

She sought to regain her breath as she caught up with the others. She glimpsed back at him.

Paecus Ixipas watched on.

[co-written with almostinsane and Captain Awesome]

Huo, Sanvi, and Lir sat at a small table in a tented restaurant located among one of the corner markets of Khi’ir. Jolloc had gone off to inspect some wares with no intention of purchasing. Though, if he did, it would have been out of his own pocket, which in itself did not go very deep. In the horizon among the many faces that shifted into the tents or out under the sun came the other half of their party. Huo could make out Bertholdt, Danairia, Caspian, Antius, and a dark faced dwarf with an enormous hammer.

Though, the Foreign Quarter saw the faces of many mercenaries wielding all sorts of strange weapons, so no particular gasp of surprise escaped anyone.

Still, the Osu fighter’s eyes looked askance at the newcomer.

Bertholdt approached them, “Ladies and gentleman,” his eyes darted about the restaurant, “Where did our Orcish friend go?”

“The market,” Huo replied, “Who’s she?” he nodded his head toward the dwarf.

The dark skinned dwarf stepped forward and Bertholdt introduced her, “This, is Niobe Martel. She has offered to accompany or journey.”

“Hello, it is my honor to join your journey. I am a runemage, I believe my services will be invaluable to your cause,” she bowed her head, “I am aware you’re under contract,” her eyes scanned across the eight other members.

“I have no interest in joining said contract, I simply wish to journey to a place thought to mythical. One day, p’rhaps ‘tis something I may tell me younglings about.”

Huo felt her smile to be warm, and he disarmed himself of any sort of defense against her.

"That's surprisingly good natured of you..." Huo said.

"Do we collect quality people or do we collect quality people?" Antius asked rhetorically with a slight grin. Now that they were about to begin, he was feeling anxious. He had been dreaming of seeing the wide world for years both at the Academy and later in the Coliseum. Now, he was on a quest to discover an artifact on the behalf of a high elf princess. It was beyond his wildest dreams.

"I believe we should go over our plans of the expedition once more. I personally do not want anyone lacking knowledge of the whereabouts of the oasis we marked down just incase we became separate."

"I second the mage," Danairia said, lazily raising her hand before reaching back and producing one of her flasks from the small of her back.

"I can barely read the language, let alone speak it."

The drunkard unscrewed the cap on the container, giving the air a slight tinge of the rum from before on the Flying Dwarf, and splashed it back.

"I'd rather not get lost in a country that I can only speak enough to order a drink or two in."

"Very well," Bertholdt nodded.

They headed back to their inn for the night.

[co-written with almostinsane]

The lights of the inn’s hallways had dimmed for the night. Caspian rubbed his neck, anxious. He thought it a better time than any to speak to Antius as they rested before setting out. He had the covered sword strapped to his back. He rapped on the door to Antius’ quarters.

Antius smiled slightly as he finished writing a page in his grimoire. He did not have a perfect memory, but he could remember enough in the short term so that he could add to his own lore and he had the chance to look up a few tricks while he could. He blinked as he heard the knocking on his door. He stood up to open it.

"Caspian? How can I help you?" he asked in confusion. He eyed his friend. When they were alone, he could feel the aura pouring off him more clearly. It was a mystery he had been forced to set aside, but if he was willing open up to him...

The young blacksmith left the night behind him as he shuffled into the mage's room. He pulled an available chair aside. The light on the desk candle glowed upon his face and highlighted the various folds of his tunic and the polished finish of his spaulders, greaves, and vambraces. The boy's eyes showed a resoluteness of character surprising for one his age.

Before he sat down, he unstrapped the covered sword and placed it on the desk.

Caspian took a deep breath, "I think you should look at it," he nodded toward the weapon.

Antius reverently took the sword from him, sitting down carefully as he slowly unsheathed it halfway. He shivered as he felt the sword vibrate in response to his magical energies. He did not even need to gather his mana.

"It feels alive... Like it possesses an intelligence to it. Perhaps more than one? Or maybe it's fragmented. Let me hold it up to the light so I might see it better. Perhaps it has some runes.... What can you tell me about it?"

Caspian watched as Antius surveyed the edge of the blade.

"I hear...I hear voices. Not my own, coming from that sword."

"Oh, come now, you musn't spill our little secret."

Caspian winced, "I hear them now. One is called Kade. The other is Mara. They say they are spirits dwelling within the sword. What do I do? Are they real? What do they want from me?"

The blacksmith exhaled, he realized that he might have come across as though he had gone mad. Yet, he knew his faculties, and he hoped the mage could see this. Caspian leaned back in his seat and blinked, exhausted.

"What do I do?" the boy asked.

Antius' face became troubled at his friend's distress. Quickly, he sheathed the sword and laid it across his lap.

"There are good and evil spirits. They differ as we all differ. The trouble is that evil spirits can be difficult to get rid of and will often pose as good spirits. We could visit an exorcist or shaman or gather materials for a summoning of our own so that we might better examine and question these spirits. Or we might journey within your mind or the sword itself if need be."

He frowned thoughtfully.

"They will most likely offer you assistance in a stressful situation either to genuinely help you or gain a foothold in your soul. I suggest getting a second weapon until we can be sure of their intentions."

"It's just, the champion of the colosseum, Caliburn, gave me this sword before he left. I don't know why..." Caspian stopped as he stared blankly at the tile floor.

"I never had the chance to get to know him. I have no idea why he would gift you with such a weapon," Antius noted.

Caspian stood up without reason, it seemed, and nodded at the mage. He took the sword and shuffled out the door he came. A couple of seconds later another rap came on the door.

Antius nodded as his friend left and began to ready himself for bed. Then he heard yet another rapping on his door.

"Caspian, did you think of anything else?" he began, opening the door to greet his visitor.

"Caspian?" Lir said, "It's Lir. Were you expecting Caspian? If so I can wait," but as she said this, she had already entered his room and spun her eyes about.

"I never realized my room didn't have yellow hibiscus flowers," she scoffed in amusement.

Then she turned to her friend, "I thought you'd be asleep this late into the night, but I'm glad you aren't."

She noticed Antius' grimoire, her eyes fell briefly, "Magic keeps you awake."

Her fingers traced the ink on the pages. Her face turned grave without a pause in between. Her visage noted Antius. Then she ambled toward his window and looked up to the stars.

The gentle night wind brushed her wiry hair, "I met a man today, Antius."

She paused for a long time.

"Instantly, he made my breath turn cold, and I began to feel an intense pain and fear crawl up my spine like no other before. I could see a darkness enveloping me for so slight a time, but it seemed almost forever," she swallowed.

"It reminded me more than anything, of the things I saw back at the Academy," Lir said, "I told myself that I would tell someone about this. Eolmir Wathren and Aenna Piattas, you remember them? Agents of the academy, like that woman, Ada Capet, killed them because they saw what I saw. Now I am remain the only one who knows anything of..." she paused, her voice faltered, "The things, Antius, that make me shudder in abject horror when I think of them, I...I..."

She shook her head then made straight for the door out of Antius's room without hesitatio, "I fear 'tis getting late. Sleep well," she bade him and vanished down the hall.