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(Six) ◀◀◀◀◀ Chapter Seven ▶▶▶▶▶ (Eight)

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The sea breeze blew strong and steady, perhaps one of the few things left in this rattletrap world upon which one could rely. Gwenno wished it would grant her a reprieve, if only for a long enough moment to allow her to secure her wind-whipped hair away from her wind-whipped face. Arggh!

Who was the knotty-pated twit who suggested kicking off this field trip with a recce on the seashore, anyway? Without a proper hat, even? Gwenllian, honestly! Within minutes of stepping off the boardwalk and onto the stretch of dove-colored sand, she found herself in intense envy of her assistant, going so far as to ask him—in jest—if it was some sort of clairvoyant genius impulse that drove him to spite the summer heat and tuck his long hair into that ridiculous knit bobble hat so kindly given to him by the Xenkans.

True, some of his more tenured colleagues in Balance had reached a state of psychic enlightenment, but Sethys claimed no such boon for himself. His motives were much more mundane: He was still freezing, down to the molecules in his marrow. After all, there is no central heating and air in the Ethereal Void, where the temperature is perpetually a balmy -22.7°C; one does not thaw off 87 centuries of spectral incarceration overnight.

Before departing Monk Isle with Giselle and her friends, he asked the Xenkans if he could borrow "something warm to throw around himself". To further court their interest, he cited a relevant passage from the Kódeks de Prí Klí Sarp, which suggested that the acolytes of Balance could wear special hats and scarves as an optional gesture of philosophical solidarity with the Great Earth Serpent.

Sethys could not adequately explain what wearing a scarf had to do with a cosmic serpent deity, though he did recall how he also once owned a very wide-brimmed hat as part of a pilgrim's ensemble. Nevertheless, the monks found his insight into Ophidian accessorizing too fascinating to ignore. In particular, a starry-eyed young lady named Thoxa was perhaps a mite too eager to oblige and she very hastily donated a sprawling scarf and its matching hat from her own collection, hand-knit from the same grubby mushroom-colored yarn that Sethys saw cladding several of the other monks, as well as the monastery's furniture. Scarves, shawls, mittens, leg-warmers, quilts, tablecloths, doilies, cosies…

Now that he thought about it, the monk-in-chief (Karnax, his name) did lour at him and his scarf while they were all saying their farewells. The word that came to Sethys's mind at the time was betrayed, though not necessarily in his personal direction…

Oh well. The delicate interpersonal politics of gifted knit was not something he'd planned on contemplating today, or with luck, ever. Besides, this afternoon bore more pressing matters—two, to be precise, and while Sethys had little experience with educating children, he was not so far removed from his own youth (temporal shenanigans aside) that he'd forgotten how restless they could be.

"So, you're saying this is where we are, geographically speaking."

"Yeah. See the big red letters? Where it says Moonshade?"

"So, you're saying this is where we are, geographically speaking," he said, tracing his hand over Gwenno's atlas, trying to hold the paper flat as it flapped into the wind, until his pointer finger came to a rest along the southeastern shoreline of the Isle of Beyond.

"Yeah. See the big red letters? Where it says Moonshade?" said Freli, digging his tip-toes into the sand and sea oats, so he could better match Sethys's lofty posture and add his own fingers to the map.

Such runes were wholly unintelligible to Sethys's ancient eyes and the brass-rimmed pince-nez he'd clipped to the bridge of his nose did nothing to help. However, the runes were red, at least; he nodded. "Yes. Well, I know this island as—I mean, the Ophidians knew this island as Pluthiss."

"Say, what did the ancient daemon folks call this whole world, like all the Isles together and whatnot?" Andrio wondered; he did not need to resort to tip-toes.

Sethys elected to let that whole daemon folks thing go. "The Ophidians called this entire realm, uh, Ophidia."

"Ophidia!" Andrio crowed. "Ach, try pulling the other one, Mr. Seth! It's got bells on!"

"What do you mean, bells? What's the matter with Ophidia?"

"He means, if you're going to make something up, at least try to make up something good," said Freli.

Sethys appeared lost behind his pince-nez. "You think I made it up? No no, that name was a gift from the Serpents, like all of our names. Well—their names, not my name, or at least not the one I have today—"

"And what right have either of you lads to laugh at it?" Gwenno interfered just in time. "Need I remind you how creative your ancestors were when they named the place? New Sosaria, indeed!"

Neither Andrio nor Freli could argue with that. Sufficiently rebuked, they muttered their apologies into the wind and the dunes. One had to assume that, when founding a new kingdom or homeland or philosophically-centered social order or what-have-you, there were simply more pressing matters at hand than deciding what name they should print on their postage stamps.

"Now! You said this particular isle used to be called Pluthiss," she resumed. "Do you know anything else interesting or unusual about it? Or what used to be here in ancient times?"

"Well, I can't promise that you'll find this interesting, but I can tell you that this island was once a popular tourist destination," said Sethys. "I suppose mostly due to the fair weather, mild and sunny for most of the year thanks to those zephyr currents rolling in from the western seas."

Gwenno nodded. "Not so different from nowadays, is it?"

"Mm-hm. The Magister also told us that Erstam enchanted the woods here, back when he first founded the city," said Freli. "He wanted the trees to keep their leaves on all year long, but he also liked the spring flowers and autumn foliage and leaf piles, so he made it so they can do all three at the same time."

"Hmm. I thought I noticed something funny about the scenery here," said Gwenno. "A bit difficult to tell which season it is, isn't it?"

"I like it though," said Andrio. "Back on the big island, the trees are nothing but old grey sticks for months at a time. You can't stand looking at it."

"Yes, we call that winter, dear."

"Ach, I know what winter is! It's just that winter's much nicer 'round here, that's all. Sure, it still gets chilly out, but at least you got something to look at while you're standing outside the Seminarium, freezing your tits off 'cause Uncle Hot-Hands forgot to unlock the doors again."

Sethys craned his head. "Uncle Hot-Hands?"

"Never mind that, never mind! And do tell us something else about Pluthiss!" Gwenno quickly ushered in the next topic. "Like, uh, did the residents produce anything? Handicrafts, perhaps?"

"Nah. I bet there were wizards here, just like now," guessed Freli. "This place is a hot spot of natural ethereal energy, or that's what all the adepts say."

"I can't say I recall meeting—uh, that is to say, I don't recall reading about any wizards living on Pluthiss," said Sethys. "Rather, this island was a center of agriculture. Specifically, heliciculture."

"Heli…"

"Heliciculture—snail farming, Freli. Uh. All sorts of snails for all sorts of purposes, but mostly for food," he clarified. "The so-called drake snails on land, also whelks and periwinkles harvested from the sea—"

"Eugh!" Andrio voiced his disgust, while his little partner in crime—a Fawnish native—had a more eager contribution.

"Back in Fawn, we call those perkies," Freli said, beaming with unsquashable home pride. "You get them steamed in a big paper sack that comes with a stick pin, so you can dig out the meat. Whenever we had to go to the docks, father would always get a couple sacks for lunch! But I always had to share mine with my sister."

"And I reckon if you keep going on like that, I'll lose mine all over my shoes," moaned Andrio.

"And yet, this could be a potential solution to the looming food scarcity problems that are staring this city in the face," offered Gwenno. "Besides, what sort of adventurer is afraid of eating a harmless little snail? I'm sure even Mr. Seth has eaten them before. Haven't you, Seth?"

"Anyway! Anyway." Sethys busied his hands with Gwenno's atlas, trying to fold it as neatly as possible. "The isle's most lucrative export—the thing that made this place famous—was a purple dye from a terrestrial snail who lives in the woods near this very coast."

"Dye? From snails?" asked Freli.

"That's the right of it. They would make it from the mucus of the Ssithifex snail, and then the Ophidians would use that dye for all sorts of things. Mostly small things like handkerchiefs, collars and cuffs, thread, candles, sealing wax, sometimes rolls of paper. As I recall, the elite adepts of the Hierophant's Conjury preferred using that purple paper for their gilded ink."

"What about clothing?" asked Gwenno. "I read that the Great Hierophants were all entombed in sumptuous robes of violet, to cover their wrappings."

"Correct. The Ophidians believed that the color represented the ideal combination of the shades of Chaos and Order, so to be entombed in Ssithifex violet was something of a spiritual luxury, to say naught of its actual cost," said Sethys. "Such garments would be reserved for only the most consequential of deaths."

"And what death could be more consequential than that of a Hierophant?"

Sethys silently removed his pince-nez and pocketed it somewhere inside his jacket; the woman had said it all and then some.

"So you're saying this place was the world capital of blooming snail dye, really! That's all well and good, but what I want to know is…" Andrio grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "You know any hot stuff about a local strumpet named Mashajash?"

Sethys's pensive stare shattered like thin ice. "Eh…?"

Alas for Andrio, the name did not ring a bell. However, in that moment, a voice like a bell—at least in volume, if not its high pitch and alarming sweetness—began to ring over the dunes.

"Hello? Hello? Now who's that I hear, having a chat with the boys on such a fine day?"

"Oh no, it's the Mouth!" warned Andrio, low with dread. Both he and Freli started to move, somewhere, anywhere, but they fast arrived at the dismaying realization that there was nowhere to hide on the barren dunes, and they were being gained on too quickly to make much headway inland.

Sure enough, they soon saw the cheerful face of a woman, perhaps a little older than suggested by her youthful smile, cresting the steps of the boardwalk where Gwenno led her students. Her dark hair, smooth and straight, flagged gracefully in the breeze behind her—worn long today instead of the usual rhinestone-bedecked pile atop her head.

"Bucia?" Gwenno hailed her in mild surprise. When she and Giselle last visited Moonshade, neither one had counted the lady among the city's scant selection of survivors. Could there be yet others like her, whom Anarchy had overlooked?

"It is you!" cried Bucia as she closed the distance, overjoyed with recognition. "I thought it was you, Miss Gwenno! I'm ever so happy to see you! And look, here's Andrio and little Freli, and, oh—! Hello, I don't believe we've met." She eyed Sethys curiously. "One of Giselle's friends?"

"Yes, I'm travelling with the Avatar now, it would seem. I am, uh, let me see now…" He thought it over for a moment. "I should say, my name is Seth, and I am a Xenkan scholar-monk from an obscure cloister, yes?"

Gwenno nodded. "And you're Mortegro's cousin."

"Ah yes, I nearly forgot!"

"Who's never been off the mainland before, so it's likely you've never seen nor heard of him."

"Yes yes, all that Gwenno said," said Sethys. "I am also Mortegro's cousin, and I have never been off the mainland before so it's likely you have never seen nor heard of me, but I am pleased to make your acquaintance just the same."

"Oh my! Isn't that cute?" Bucia giggled, somehow none the wiser. "You're spot on, I never knew our Morty had a cousin! And usually I know everything there is to know about everybody who lives here!"

"Well, you know what they say, you really do learn something new every day." Gwenno waved it all off with a little laugh. "Just ask the boys, they've been learning some fascinating things about the ancient history of this very Isle!"

Andrio and Freli exchanged glances and eye rolls; neither lad would readily admit this, but both agreed that Mrs. Gwenno's lesson had so far generated considerable amusement, especially when compared to the stodgy offerings of their former Magister. At the very least, they would remember the prolonged folly that was this mid-Sosariad afternoon for years to come, if not necessarily for the intended reasons.

"Right, like how this place used to be the snail dye capital of the Ophidians. Great, isn't it?" Freli tried (and failed) to enthuse.

"Snail dye?" Bucia appeared confused. "Mm. They make dye from snails? I can't imagine it'd be very pretty. Oh, but snails have been terrible this year, haven't they? My poor tomatoes were just gobbled up, right down to the vines, all of them! But they spared the zucchini! Not many things seem to like eating zucchini so I always have bushels of it by the end of the season. Good thing you can make so many different things with zucchini, though. You can preserve it or make it into bread, muffins, cake. I always sell mine to the Blue Boar because Petra makes a zucchini cake that you just would not believe. Just heavenly! But I haven't seen Petra around lately, isn't that strange? It's like she suddenly vanished into thin air without a word to anyone! One day she was moping around the Blue Boar as usual, next day gone! Or, is she travelling with Giselle now too…? Gwenno?"

"Hm?" She snapped to attention. "Oh, yes! The Avatar needed Petra's help for her explorations of the Northlands, but she suffered a breakdown and we had to take her in for repairs. It's why we returned to Moonshade this time, actually."

"Oh no! Poor Petra! She was taking Rocco's death really hard, though. He was such a good man, too. He was a little bit of a curmudgeon but he had a really good heart. He really didn't deserve to go like that. You know? It was an accident, a terrible accident! He was just standing in the wrong place at the wrong time, when Ensorcio came back to town after Anarchy lifted his exile, and went straight to the Blue Boar and tried to assassinate Torrissio with a death bolt because—oh, some old rivalry they had going all the way back to when Vasculio was still around, I don't really know, I heard about it from Julia who heard about it from some other adept," Bucia went on, oblivious (and apparently impervious) to things like sea breezes and the passage of time. "But poor Petra, she was taking his death so hard. Seemed like none of us could help her at all so I'm glad she decided to travel with you, maybe it'll help take her mind off things. Say, Gwenno! You said that Giselle has returned to Moonshade, right?"

"That's right."

"I mean, since you're here and all, I wouldn't suppose that Giselle maybe brought some of her other friends along as well?"

"Well, you've already met Seth, and Stefano and Mortegro have also returned to Moonshade."

The other woman's face bloomed into a coy grin. "And, I wouldn't suppose she brought—"

"Boydon?" Gwenno made an educated guess. "Oh no, dear, not this time. But don't you worry about him one bit! As far as we know, he is safe and sound back on the mainland. Giselle had to take a trip to the Northlands and Boydon decided to stay behind and look after the Sleeping Bull. We are sailing over there next to meet up with him, if you fancy a voyage."

"Ooh!" Bucia tapped her cheek with a single finger, her long nails varnished in pearl pink, though chipped about the edges. "I'll think about it, I will! But probably not, I'm afraid. I really should stay here. Stars know we've got our own troubles to mind! We're all trying to take it one day at a time, to make the best of things and help each other survive and whatnot. Actually, I was hoping I would find at least one of Giselle's friends because you are all so strong and I need a little help with something physical! It's nothing scary like slaying a Death Knight or anything like that, I just need a little help carrying something to my garden. Ducio finally finished making it for me, a lovely Gopher Scare for my garden and such a clever thing too! A real darb! It looks like a little fountain with all these stones around it, and it also has this bamboo tube on a stand and it dips up and down and clobbers a rock and makes a noise that scares the gophers away from my peonies. Or at least I hope it will! I haven't tried it yet because it's still at the workshop. It is awfully heavy and I can't move it all by myself! It's a two-man job, at the very least! Oh rats, I really do wish Boydon was here, he's so strong, but so sensitive and understanding to a woman's needs…"

"I'm assuming Ducio doesn't do home deliveries then," Gwenno muttered without surprise.

"Nah. Uncle Sloth can't even be arsed to get out of his own way." Andrio scoffed. "Topo did all of that for him, but now…"

Gwenno placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Well Bucia, I am sorry to say you caught us in the middle of something," she said. "I took it upon myself to treat these boys to a little field trip, since it has been so long since they had any proper schooling."

"That's awfully nice of you," Bucia remarked. "I certainly didn't mean to intrude on anything so important!"

"Think nothing of it, dear. Say! How about making this a two-woman job instead?" said Gwenno. "I would wager that you and I can cart it away ourselves in no time. Ten minutes, at the most."

"You really think we can?"

"Absolutely! Besides, at my age I'm no stranger to lugging garden furniture from one end of town to the other." What Gwenno modestly declined to mention was that she and Iolo had been living in Yew for the past several decades, and Yew was not so much a town as it was a loosely incorporated but generously wooded sprawl. If one wanted, say, a nice pergola or birdbath to decorate one's back yard (which like the rest of the town, would be loosely incorporated but generously wooded), one had to be not only willing but fully prepared and outfitted to lug the thing through miles of Britannia's deepest, darkest, and leggiest forests.

The legs, of course, belonging to to Yew's population of giant spiders, that far outstripped its population of human beings. However, Moonshade was not Yew, a fact made blessedly evident by its paved walks and sensible landscaping, as well as the vastly reduced encounter rating for beasts with superfluous legs. Compared to Yew, carting a pergola or birdbath or whatever a Gopher Scare was through this place would be a doddle.

"Ach, Mrs. Gwenno! Look, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but don't you think you ought to leave this sort of job to people like me and Freli?" Andrio posed.

"What exactly do you mean, people like you…?"

"I mean like… Well, you know! Men."

Bucia cupped a hand over her mouth, snorting discreetly.

"Oh ho, I see! Well, Bucia and I do appreciate the thought, but I'd rather you and Freli stay right here and continue exercising your manly man brains instead," Gwenno told him. "And you needn't worry about little old me. I'm a lot tougher than I look, while my assistant is quite capable of minding your schooling in the meantime. Right Seth? Seth—!"

A finger-snap close to the eyes roused Sethys from whatever complete nonsequitur of a daydream he'd conjured while staring into the middle distance.

"Ehh? Oh! Yes, Gwenno, yes, of course! Right away! I'll…" He faltered mid-sentence. "Uh. What is it you wanted me to do?"

"To look after Andrio and Freli while I run a quick errand," she told him with a sigh. "Perhaps you could try to remember something else of interest that you can teach them, until I get back?"

"You mean about this place? Well, I can but try."

"It's all I ask. Besides, we'll only be a minute!"

Sethys nodded. "I can handle a minute! I think."

"I think so too—just relax! Chin up! Remember, you're in charge until I return!" Gwenno clapped her hands together, readying them for business. "Now, my dear Bucia. Show me this gopher-bane contraption of yours and we'll have a go at it."

Bucia squealed in delight. "Thank you, Gwenno! You're so kind, really you are, probably the kindest person I've ever met! Just an angel! I simply didn't know what I was going to do about this. As you can see, I was so desperate I walked all the way over to Stefano's house for help! But he wasn't home, only his automaton butler. Have you ever met him? Though I suppose if you've met one automaton you've met them all. Except for Petra, of course! Oh! That reminds me, I've just got to tell you about…"

…until the sights and sounds of both ladies disappeared down the boardwalk, back towards Moonshade proper.

Sethys had but a few precious seconds to enjoy the natural harmony that filled the aural vacuum left in their wake; the endless circulation of the waves and wind, with the sporadic caterwauling of gulls and petrels and the odd avocet to break the monotony.

Only a few precious seconds before:

"Hey, mister."

"Hm?" Sethys looked down towards the speaker—Freli, who wore the frank and unremitting glare of a youth who knows he's being duped.

"Hey mister, are you really all that, what Mrs. Gwenno said?"

"And are you really a Xenkan scholar-monk what's never been off the mainland?" Andrio asked, furrowing his brow.

"And are you really Mortegro's cousin? 'cause I don't think you are, and neither does Andrio."

"What he said, I don't believe a lick of it. So is it true?"

"Is it true?"

"Is it?"

The two lads hedged closer and closer with each question; although Sethys still towered over both of them, their advances successfully intimidated. He took a step backwards, feeling the sand give beneath his boot.

"N-no. No. None of it's true," Sethys finally admitted after some deliberation. "I'm sorry."

"Stars in hell, I knew it! Well then, who are you?" Andrio fired back without hesitation.

"Who are you, really?" Freli grinned. "'cause I wagered my stash of teacakes that you're the secret love-child of the Magelord and the Lady of Fawn, and the Magelord made you join the Xenkan monks because he got scared you'd try to steal his job, but Andrio thinks you're some sort of escaped convict who's on the run from the law, probably for something really bad like assassinating dozens of goats."

Sethys's eyes bulged. "What?!"

"Yes, goats, 'cause Andrio doesn't think you have the bottle to kill a man, but a goat's probably no problem. Aw, I told him it was stupid! I told you it was stupid, Andrio."

"It's no stupider than secret love-child of the Magelord, is it?"

Serpents' garters… Is this what magelings conspired about when they were supposed to be concentrating on their lessons? Sethys selected his next words with care: "Please understand. I would like to tell you my real story. I'd like to tell everybody if it would mean no longer having to pretend to be someone else. I'm really not very good at this, you see."

"We see," Andrio and Freli agreed in unison.

"But I was asked—well, I was told—well, ordered really—by the Avatar herself!—not to speak a word of it to anyone in Moonshade." Sethys tapped at his lips. "Not a soul! You understand, yes?"

Evidently Freli did not. "So what?" he returned. "Surely you can tell us!"

"Aye, you can tell us! I mean, I bet she wasn't talking about us when she told you not to tell anyone," added Andrio. "I mean, we're just a couple of wee bairns, what are we gonna do?"

"Right, we're just a couple of wee bairns," said Freli, who had no idea what a wee bairn was. "What are we gonna do?"

Strange how but a few minutes earlier, these alleged wee bairns were allegedly men. Sethys shook his head, his wariness unabated. "I doubt you'd believe it even if I did tell you," he said. "Sometimes I'm not even sure if I believe it myself and I lived through every second of it."

"Only one way to find out. Try us!"

"Uh huh! Andrio's right! Only one way to find out." Freli mirrored his friend's knotted-arm stance. "Try us!"

Sethys sighed as he turned his eyes skyward. This would not be the first time he'd been heavied by a couple of novitiates and he suspected that it wouldn't be the last, given how the Avatar always seemed to have business to conduct in this city. Still, their heckling reminded him of better times, when the Temple of Harmony still existed, when Sethys—on account of his own youth and low station, would end up getting euchered into herding the freshers around the facility. He didn't mind it so much back then, and he supposed he didn't mind it so much now either; there was something weirdly comforting in the notion that the teenagers of today were just as saucy and sharp as those banished to the mists of ancient history…

"Oh, alright. Alright! But!" He lifted a finger in warning. "I'm only agreeing to this because I believe your intentions are honest, and that you really will endeavor to keep this a secret. Can I trust you?" He waited for some indication of agreement from both boys before resuming. "Good. Now, where to begin? See, I've got to think back an awfully long way…"

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