Liuan disembarked with her usual retinue: several Church priests, who Mirian recognized, but didn’t know the names of, and several RID agents. Each ship had a full crew of Akanan army personnel. They spent around ten minutes doing a formal dance of niceties and ritual. No one called Liuan ‘Prophet,’ but Mirian could tell from the way her priests were looking at her that it was an unspoken truth.
Then, as the Akanan soldiers refueled the ships and prepped again for launch, Liuan pulled Mirian aside.
“I thought we agreed not to spy on each other,” Liuan said, clearly annoyed.
That hadn’t at all been how Mirian had expected the conversation to start. “I’m not. What are you talking about?”
Liuan’s eyes narrowed. “The Unblinking Eye faction within the priests? The Silent faction within the RID? It’s grown too big for me not to notice. And as you can see, they’ve become an impediment. These ships should have been here a week ago."
“Liuan, you know how much I abhor spycraft.”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t Jherica,” she snapped.
“You got my letter?”
“Of course I did, or I wouldn’t be here, but I don’t believe for a moment that—”
“I can give you an hour-by-hour breakdown of what I do at the start of each cycle, and I can promise you, I don’t have the time or the inclination to muck around in Akana. I spent most of the last cycle in Uxalak, by the way. And before that, I was digging in Alkazaria.” Mirian realized she was on the defensive. She met Liuan’s stare with her own. To the other Prophet’s credit, she didn’t flinch. “Besides, you were keeping track of what I did when I fought Troytin. You know my repertoire of tactics.”
Liuan looked at Mirian, but her confidence had left her. She began muttering. “Then who…? It can’t be…” She looked back to Mirian. “Have you gotten word from Ibrahim?”
“No. He keeps ignoring my letters. Only the Ominian knows what he’s up to. At least he’s not invading anyone.”
“Gabriel?”
“He seems to be allergic to Zhighua. He’s back to investigating the Labyrinth. Frankly, I’m just glad he’s doing something useful. Why? Is he not talking to you?”
“Just cross-referencing our information. It’s consistent, at least. Ibrahim’s ignoring me too, and Gabriel’s told me the same story. And Celen is still… you know. Then the logical conclusion is that there’s another traveler, and not the one you met in Tlaxhuaco. I’ve suspected it for some time, but I can no longer deny the preponderance of evidence.”
“Suspected? When were you planning on telling us?”
“I didn’t want to believe it. At this point, the only reason a time traveler would be hiding in Akana is if—anyways, if I’d said it earlier without enough to go on, would you have trusted me? Besides, I wanted to make sure…”
She trailed off, but she had already implied she thought it might have been Mirian’s hand at work. Does she really think that’s how I operate?
“Xecatl also thinks there’s a hostile Akanan time traveler,” Mirian said, not mentioning who they’d both thought it might be. She decided to test Liuan’s reaction. “Have you heard the name ‘Scebur’?”
Liuan’s brow furrowed. “Yes. In the cults.” She started to pace. “Is that what they’re calling themselves? That would explain it. That would explain—you know I’ve spent a lot of time pinning them down. But the Luminate Church still has a faction that’s been… resisting me. At first I thought it was volatile actors—that was Celen’s term for non-Prophets who are extremely sensitive to changes in the timeline—but… hmm. What did this ‘Xecatl’ say?”
“I told you in the letter. She wants all the names and locations of Akanan agents and Tlaxhuacan informants in the whole of Tlaxhuaco.”
The other woman rolled her eyes. “Why in the five hells would anyone give a rat’s ass about that island? She’s overestimating her own importance. Akana just needs to make sure they won’t be stabbed in the back when they’re making their forward thrust. Everyone spies on everyone else. She’s got her own spies here, I assure you.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Mirian said. “Nevertheless, I think it’s a reasonable thing to hand over. Their army doctrine revolves entirely around defending the island. Anyways, she doesn’t trust Akanans, and told me as much. You’re the one with the leash on the RID, and she said you’re not welcome there until you provide her that as a show of good faith.”
“Invite her to a Council.”
“I did. She refused outright. She won’t leave the island.”
Liuan glared at her. “And how do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Well, feel free to join us. I’m sure she’ll tell you herself.”
That made Liuan frown. She started pacing again. “What she asks—that’s not a thing I can just hand over. Any sort of major operation like that doesn’t have centralized files. There’s no list of names in the RID headquarters, because that would be a point of vulnerability. Too easy to exploit. Instead, there’s chains of handlers and reporting mechanisms, but they don’t know each other either. Everything’s siloed off. You know, Gabriel would be better at that than me.”
Mirian raised an eyebrow. “If you can manipulate Allen Matteus, you can get the names.”
Liuan stopped pacing. “Why? What’s Xecatl giving us? There needs to be an equal exchange. She can rot on her little island for all I care.”
“That’s what I’m getting. Tlaxhuacan magical theory and technology. The kind of which could be critical to stopping the leyline crisis.”
“And you’re giving them… what? Airships?”
Mirian waved a dismissive hand. “They couldn’t use them. No access to fossilized myrvite. I’m teaching Xecatl Baracueli magical theory. Glyphs and the like. In exchange, we get spirit constructs.”
“You get spirit constructs.”
It was Mirian’s turn to glare. She was losing her patience. “What have I not shared? I shared the Gates, the blink spell to access them, soul communion, the advancements in artifice I’ve made, practice regimes to strengthen your spellcasting—and gotten what from you?” What reason do you have to think I’m holding anything back? was what she really wanted to ask.
“Preventing the invasion of Baracuel doesn’t happen by itself.”
“That benefits us both by lengthening the cycle. How do you seize control of the RID?” Mirian asked.
Liuan was silent.
“Then I can’t trust you,” Mirian said.
“The feeling is mutual, I assure you. That was the lever Troytin used, you know. Got everyone to spill out their secrets, while he kept his own in reserve. Then he struck. I won’t let it happen to me.”
“That you would even imply I’m anything like that fucking rat is insulting,” Mirian snapped.
Liuan closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “It’s just… I’m tired of the paranoia. But I can’t let it go. Especially now, with this… this ‘Scebur.’ I need… I need my own power base. If I give that away to anyone, I’m vulnerable.”
Mirian’s anger faded as fast as it had come. Yes, she could understand. She knew that feeling all too well. “Do you want to join us?” she asked, gesturing to the airships.
“No. No, I’m needed here. I need to make sure… I won’t give them free reign. And I’ll do what I can to protect Jherica each cycle until they can stabilize.”
Is that what her agents are doing in Vadriach? Mirian still had her doubts, but learning that this ‘Scebur’ had been attacking Liuan…. The last thing she wanted to do was get involved in espionage games. Maybe Gabriel could come help here, if Liuan was getting too hard pressed. But where the hells did they come from? Where’s their origin point? And if they’re this aggressive, why did it take this long for them to be detected?
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
She would need to get more information at some point. Try to map out what they’d done and who’d they’d influenced. Map out what had happened in different cycles. But for now, they were already a week overdue in Tlaxhuaco, and Mirian was eager to resume her lessons on the island. If Scebur was mucking about in Akana, there was only so much they could do. It would be like when Troytin was spending all his effort hunting Mirian, and all the while, she was making progress.
“Good luck,” Mirian said.
“And to you.” Liuan gave Mirian a stiff nod, then departed. Mirian watched her go. So much to do. So much to learn. And here, another thing. Another problem.
If Gabriel wasn’t enough, she’d hunt down this ‘Scebur’ herself. If they were going to be an impediment to solving this crisis, then the Ominian could have another temporal anchor back.
***
The airships took off a few hours later. Mirian used the travel time to study the Akanan airship engines. She was mostly interested in how they were getting over twice the range of the Baracueli airships. The Akanan crew didn’t like that, but at least Liuan had given them special orders to obey her. The cover story was that they were on a diplomatic mission to normalize relations with Tlaxhuaco. The undertone was that this was all very important, both to the Ominian, and to Akana Praediar’s plans with Baracuel. It seemed Liuan’s strategy now consisted not of declaring herself Prophet, but just heavily implying it.
Jherica ended up joining Mirian on the trip south. She’d made it clear they’d be interrogated by Xecatl, but Jherica was confident they’d pass any test.
“My friends tried to get me to lie about little things when I was a child, and I could never manage it,” they said. “One time, we stole some pastries from a shop, and all my mom had to do was ask and I spilled the whole story. Besides, I was in that coma. Makes it pretty much impossible for me to have had anything to do with this nonsense.”
Mirian couldn’t argue with the logic. She had no problems vouching for Jherica.
They made good time. Unlike a cutter, the airships didn’t need to slow down for the treacherous waters of the archipelago. Mirian wasn’t sure what the leviathans would do, or if they could even perceive the airships, but she didn’t take any chances. She ordered the airships to stay at high altitude until they neared Uxalak. Once they were on the approach, she sent out a pattern of colored flare spells to indicate their identity, then ordered them to land near the port where Xecatl had told her last cycle to meet them. Again, the Akanans didn’t like that, but they followed their orders.
Jherica’s introduction went smoothly. Whatever they told Xecatl, and whatever Xecatl told them, they were amicably chatting like old friends by the end of the second day in the city. Like Viridian and Mirian, Jherica was fascinated by the new magic. Soon enough, Jherica had joined Mirian in teaching classes to the nagual, and was getting their own lessons in spirit magic.
***
By Thirdday the 28th of Solem, Xecatl had assessed Viridian’s skills as sufficient, and sent word he was to be allowed to commune with Ceibia Yan.
Mirian attended as part of her studies on spirits.
Viridian was absolutely giddy with excitement. His steps had a bounce to them that made him seem a decade younger.
“Fascinating, simply fascinating,” he kept repeating as they walked through the city to the acropolis. He slowed down at every city garden they passed—which was a lot of gardens. Every city block and street had planters or strips of bricked-off soil where a few dozen myrvite plants grew. “Oh! Vermillion sear-orchid,” he said as they passed a small park with children playing. “And spotted luminous berry-brush!”
There were names in Tlaxa for everything, but Xecatl had given up trying to teach Viridian the ‘proper’ name for the plants. There ought to be a universal naming system, Mirian mused. Then all the academies and universities could collaborate, and it wouldn’t matter what language anyone spoke. Of course, it would be completely pointless to implement with the time loop.
As they approached the sacred ceiba tree, Viridian grew silent. When they stopped, he gazed up at Ceiba Yan with reverie.
“As magnificent a canopy as the night sky,” he said at last.
“Are you ready?” Xecatl asked, smiling slightly. She’d quickly taken a liking to the old professor. “Ceiba Yan is not like other myrvites.”
“I am,” he said.
Mirian watched as Selkus Viridian placed his hand on the trunk and closed his eyes. She watched the sacred tree’s soul, so massive and awe-inspiring. She watched as Viridian’s soul—a spark in front of a bonfire—lit up. She closed her own eyes so she could better focus on the changes.
It started with the membranes of their souls mingling. At first, it was like watching two magnets that refused to mingle. Then, like oil and water. Then, gradually, the patterns of soul currents near the point of contact changed. The changes in Ceiba Yan’s soul propagated quickly. The changing current spread through it like a stone’s ripples through a pond, and Mirian realized she was looking at the skill of a master. It felt strange to think of a tree as having talent, but just like a bog lion could be a talented hunter, could a tree not also display skill? The winter maple that grows its leaves at the right time, that senses the weather better, that repels parasites best, that reads the signals of the forest and anticipates the herbivores coming to graze on its leaves—is it not also an intelligence? Perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps her understanding of plant life was still incomplete. But here, at least, she was watching something that even her father would have difficulty doing.
It’s so flexible, she marveled. Her own soul flows were a product of discipline and regulation. She channeled the lessons she’d learned like confining a river to canals. Like the canals here, and the canals of Palendurio, the flows were put to maximum use and efficiency.
And yet…
She watched as Viridian’s soul also changed, slowly, and with more difficulty. Unlike the tree, the changes in his soul stayed superficial. It touched the surface, it spread through his depths, but his core never changed.
Hours after her old professor was done talking to the sacred tree, Mirian stayed in its shade, watching its soul flow and move, contemplating the lessons she was learning. Right now, it was like she could see the fruits dangling off a tree, but couldn’t pluck them yet, and her mouth watered with anticipation.
***
In addition to lecturing, learning about spirits, and picking up on speaking Tlaxa, Mirian spent time on her larger research project of the leylines. As soon as she’d arrived, she’d planted her leyline data collectors on two axes, from east to west along the coastline, another from north to south along the river, levitating herself around since the Akanan airships had too little fuel to be of much use to anyone. As they moved towards the end of the month of Duala, she gathered the recorded data from each.
The leyline detectors also were able to run a second investigation: better quantifying the changes in ambient mana caused by a single spell engine. From Akana Praediar to Persama, the background energy of the leyline buildup distorted all her measurements. Here, where the leyline activity was magnitudes lower, she could study the changes much better.
The readings across all her devices were consistent, which was a good sign for the experiment. She was pleased to see that, even though the changes were miniscule, they were detectable. With broader divination spells and more precise measurements, she could get a better idea of what the toxic mana was doing, how fast it moved, and how much ambient mana it bound.
Her data was incomplete though. I only measured the changes in three spatial dimensions, she realized. But of course, most of the activity is happening in the fourth, arcane dimension. She’d have to iterate on the experiment on the next cycle.
Back in Uxalak, she compiled her leyline data, spending hours clacking about with an abacus and her papers, scratching out numbers. By now, it was routine. As her data from Akana’s coast had told her, there was no leyline pooling down here. That didn’t mean there wasn’t an Elder Gate, it just meant there wasn’t enough energy buildup for the phenomenon to occur.
But there was something.
There was a strange area of high magical energy in southern Tlaxhuaco at the edge of the mountain range. It was similar to the anomaly Apophagorga had caused by its presence in Baracuel, only the energy was being dispersed over a wider area. She immediately started making adjustments to the two devices she had in Uxalak, adding tri-bonded glyph and rune pairs to divine the kind of soul energy present. She created her usual glyph sequences that created an illusion that marked myrvite souls by color.
Her myrvite detector came back with a riot of signatures. Ceiba Yan’s was the most potent because of the close proximity to the detectors. Most myrvites were shown as red or yellow dots on her illusionary map; abundant, but weaker souls. A few purple-colored dots roamed the archipelago in groups; leviathans, obviously.
It was the dot to the north that puzzled her. Overlayed with the leyline data, it fit right on top of the strange energy dispersal, but it was so deep into ‘purple’ that she had to use an ultraviolet sight spell to even see it properly.
Something big was up there. A myrvite titan? she guessed.
She confronted Xecatl with her revelation immediately.
“Oh,” Xecatl said, looking at her illusionary map and the data she’d plotted. “I… didn’t know your devices could do that.”
She seemed more worried than surprised. “Wait… do you know what’s up there?”
Xecatl’s jaw clenched, then unclenched. She looked to Ceiba Yan atop the acropolis, and Mirian felt a subtle shift in the tree’s aura. The jade focus around the Emperor’s neck swirled with soul energy, then quieted. Then she looked towards where the Divir moon would be, though clouds blotted out that part of the sky.
“I suppose we can no longer keep this secret. After all, it has a certain relevance to the current crisis.”
Having said that, Xecatl was quiet. Her eyes next settled on the government palace. She took a deep breath, then nodded, apparently committed. “Very well, I should show you.” Xecatl sent up a brief signal spell, and a nagual bodyguard approached her immediately. “Fetch Jherica, and prepare a secure carriage to go south. We will visit the Veiled Temple.”