Landing 4, 6105 RTR (14 Feb 2002) Rory speaks with a few mages after the meeting.
(Ashdod) (Babel) (Rory) (Spheres of Magic) (Ur)
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After the meeting, some of the mages stay around to talk. The Jupani illusionist, Mage Kirs, intercepts the unicorn near the door. "Hey, Rory, about that party – let your friend know I'm willing to lend her my services for the occasion. Make a regular show of it, y'know?"

The unicorn beams at this news. "Oh, really? I mean, wow, she'll flip – literally, I bet – when she hears she's going to have an honest to goodness illusionist! That is so dark! You bet, I'll be sure and tell her!"

The tall Jupani grins at Rory's enthusiasm. "Great. Lemme know what she says, and when would be a good time to have a look around their site. I'll need to know what she's got and what her plans are for it, already. Sooner's probably better, just so you know. Not like anyone's beating down my door for my services now so I've not much else to work on, any road."

The unicorn nods several times. "Oh yes! I'll be sure and do that! I'll try to see her as soon as I can – I've just got to tell her this kind of news. Plus, there's a lot to do yet. You've got to see the snow airship they're making. They put a lot of work into it. Hee hee! And, you know, that'd be a great place for a snowball fight."

"I'll bet." The wolf grins again. He glances around the room, then shrugs his shoulders. "I'm gonna be off. I'll catch ya later, Rory." He waves to the unicorn, then saunters towards the door.

The room has largely emptied out by now. Air Mage Gusty and a couple of the Earth mages are still talking to each other in one knot, and Tanieta and the Spirit mage, Fanta, are discussing something near the table. The Rhian Chaos mage is standing beside the window Mage Builder struck with a chair earlier, her fingers resting on the back of the now-righted chair as she gazes through the reinforced glass.

Rory looks a little torn between whether to leave now, or whether to go speak to one or more mages while they're so conveniently accessible, and not off on some job or errand or another who-knows-where. Seeing the Rhian Chaos mage beside the window, he gathers his resolve and clip-clops over to her. He vaguely recalls something about how she's some sort of royalty, or at least thinks she is, but he can't for the life of him remember just what sort. "Uhm … Your Highness, Ma'am?" he ventures, as he walks up. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

The mage turns her head towards him, looking regally down at him. "You are not, Lord Stormshadow. We are only reflecting."

Rory blinks at this, wondering who else is doing the reflecting. "On the city and all the bad stuff going on and what to do about it?" he ventures.

"And on our place within it. We are a stranger in this land; we have not considered its battles our own," the Rhian replies. After a moment, the woman adds absently, "and the correct address is Your Grace," running the words together as if she is used to saying it often.

"Sorry, Your Grace," Rory amends, ducking his head in what he hopes is a properly courtly manner. "I know you're against staying here, but I was wondering, Your Grace, if you might be staying for the party? I really hope Dinahzadze's party goes well, and I was supposing we could use all the help we could get. Maybe, Your Grace, you might be able to give us some sort of a Chaos blessing or whatever to help things not go really awfully bad or anything?"

The Rhian considers this request. She holds her head high, her chin nearly parallel to the ground, giving her a snooty look. "We will honor your supplication," she answers at length, "and prepare an appropriate blessing for this event. It is to be held where?"

"Mount Dronnel, Your Grace," Rory says, bowing again just to be safe. "I can draw a map," he offers.

"That will do quite well," the Rhian pronounces. "You may bring it to our audience chamber when it is complete. Is there anything else you wished to know of us, Lord Stormshadow?"

Rory's ears perk up at this. Her Grace has just no idea what a can of Gooshurms she's just opened up. "Well, Your Grace," he begins, pausing a moment to work up a wish list of things to ask, "this may sound really silly for me to ask, but I was wondering what … uhm … kingdom it is you rule? Is it really far from here?"

"We are," the Rhian begins, drawing in a breath, "Queen Flutenote of the Southron Marches and the Golden Realm, and our kingdom is, alas, very far away from here, indeed."

"Does the 'Southron Marches' mean it's to the south, Your Grace?" Rory asks, and hardly breathes before another question spills out, "And why do you keep saying 'we'? Do you have an imaginary friend, too? Or maybe you're like Envoy and have different 'Aspects'?"

"As ruler, we speak for our country," 'Queen' Flutenote answers. "The Southron Marches are to the south of the Golden Realm. But neither land is located south of here… we are from the continent of Ai, not Ur."

"Ohhhhh!" Rory says, nodding. "I see, so since you're the ruler, you're the head of the state, so you are the state, kind of sort of. That makes sense. So what's the Golden Realm like? I mean, is there lots of gold there? Or is it just a figure of speech, or just 'gold' as in 'yellow', like the leaves are all yellow, or the rocks are yellow, or maybe it's like one of those weird Forbidden Zones, and the sky is yellow?"

"The rivers of our country flow with gold, that pours into the forges of our smiths. Our wealth is the stuff of dream and legend," the Rhian says, sounding almost as if she is reciting from an old nursery rhyme. "Gold gilds our buildings and paves our streets, and we are the envy of all other nations."

"Wow!" Rory exclaims, eyes getting wide, and then he ponders, "So, why are you here, when you could be there? I can't blame you for wanting to go home instead of staying here!"

Flutenote gazes out the window. "Because we are in exile here. Our followers are scattered or dead, and those who believe us fewer still. The Usurper holds our throne, and we fear to face his armies." She speaks quietly, and with some effort, as if the topic is one she dislikes.

"Oh!" the unicorn says, ears drooping. "I … I'm sorry … I hope I didn't … you know … Your Grace… " He bows his head, then says, "I really hope you get your throne back. If I could help somehow, I sure would. If Corwyn were here – He's a night, and he's sort of kind of my dad, I think, but that's a long story – he'd probably figure it would be a great quest to help return you to your throne. Except, well, there'd just be one of him, and that's kind of bad odds against an army and all. Uhm … uh … " Desperate to find some way to turn the subject to happier terms, he looks out the window to see where the monarch-in-exile may be looking – though, granted, there's little cheery to see out there these days, and her mood didn't seem all that peppy to begin with.

Outside, the city of Babel is mostly dark. The stars of the Procession above shine as white pricks of light, but below, there's little to see except for the occasional flare of a torch or lantern. At least that means there probably aren't any fires from purges burning tonight.

"Is there anything you do for fun?" Rory asks. "I mean, do you have any special dances you know from the Golden Realm? Or songs maybe? I can dance. Silhouette can, too. Or maybe games. I play Hide-and-Go-Squeak a lot, but I'm not so good at it, because I don't have Eeee ears. And let me tell you, it's really hard to catch Silhouette when she's not just letting you win to be nice."

"Queen" Flutenote nods to Rory, after a moment of silence. "Your sentiment is understandable. We shall raise an army someday to re-take our throne. Justice shall rule the day!" she says, firmly, and with evident conviction. "Our favorite games are games of chance," she adds, seizing on the opportunity to switch topics. "We are especially find of gammon. It is our love for games which led us to the study of Chaos, in fact."

"Ohhhh!" the unicorn says, nodding. "That makes sense! Uhm … you know, if you ever want someone to play a game with you, I'd be happy to learn. I'm not really all that good at those sorts of games, but if they're games of chance, then I figure I've got a fair go at it anyway."

"We shall have to teach you gammon some day, then, Lord Stormshadow," Queen Flutenote offers regally. "Lord Cyprian has a fondness for games, as well, though he does not indulge in it so much as he once did. Times grow serious – but we should not forfeit pleasures because of that, should we?" She smiles at Rory. "Yes, we shall be glad to bless this party for you and your friends."

"Thank you, Your Grace!" Rory almost squeals, and he dips his head again. "Dinahzadze will do a whole somersault when she hears she's got royalty offering blessings!"


After his talk with the Chaos mage, as the young unicorn walks back to his room, he hears a swoosh of wings behind him. "Hey, Rory!" an Eeee voice calls, thumping down on the stairs behind the Aeonian. A glance over his shoulder reveals that it's Josh, the lanky brown-furred apprentice mind mage who helps Cyprian with his work.

"Hi, Josh!" Rory calls out, waving to the apprentice. "What do you think about all this? And are you going to come to the party?"

"Well, I'm probably going to Caroban," Josh says, blinking a few times at the question. "I mean, it doesn't matter all that much what I think, really. Master Cyprian says I ought to be taking the Journeyman test soon, and I can't do that here. Not the way the Guild is now."

The Eeee apprentice continues, "So, I don't know if I'll still be here for the party or not. But that's what I wanted to talk to you about. The party, I mean. Not me going. Uh … I mean … about your plans for it." The apprentice wrings his hands, looking nervous. "What I mean is, and I'm guessing no one told you or you wouldn't have said it the way you did – well – MageCyprianistheAvenger," he finally gets out, in a breathless rush. "I thought you'd want to know."

The unicorn blinks at the rapid word rush, but fortunately he's used to that sort of talk, though it takes a moment for him to sort it out. Just to make certain, though, he repeats it, in a loud whisper, more slowly. "Mage Cyprian is the Avenger? Whoa. So he's got a secret identity? He's like one of those crime fighting avengers?"

Josh waves his hands comically, shaking his head even as he glances about. No one's around to overhear them – but, then again, Eeee do have good ears. "Nonono. That's not what I meant. I meant," he inhales deliberately, and continues in even and methodical tones, "The Avenger your friend told you about, the one who punished Captain Rockmore. That was Mage Cyprian. It's not an every-day thing and he doesn't like to talk about it. But he's the one who did it. Everyone at the Guild Hall knows but a lot of the common folk don't."

"Ohhhh!" Rory whispers loudly, then leans in and asks, "Do you think we could get him to play the Avenger, then? I'll bet Dinahzadze'd pass out if she got the real Avenger to play the part!"

The brown-furred apprentice cringes. "Well – no. I don't think he'd go for that. I don't think he's too proud of it."

Rory says, "Why not? He beat up Rockmore!"

"Yeah," Josh says with a grin. For his part, the apprentice seems pleased by his mentor's role in the exacting of vengeance. "And no one deserved it more! But, well, it happened in the dream realm, the one the royal Babelite mages created, with their false goddesses made of renegade independent spirits. It was all very much in opposition to what the College stands for – not that they'd mind that we got Rockmore. But the way it happened. I'm not sure if that's what bothers Master Cyprian about it or not. But I know he doesn't like to talk about it."

"What do mean by the 'way' it happened?" Rory asks. "I mean, do you mean just because it was in that dream realm stuff? But didn't people just get stuck in there? I mean, it's not his fault he was in the dream realm. Not unless he was willing to, you know, stop sleeping and dreaming. Or can Mind mages do that?"

He shakes his head. "No, we still need to sleep like everybody else. And, no, it's not like he could've not been involved. I dreamed it, too. I saw it, that is. I wasn't summoned by the Sisters – I mean, by the spirit beings – to participate the way he was. But i was there. I didn't get a choice. Maybe he just thinks … " The brown-furred bat shrugs, shaking his head. "I don't really know what he thinks," he admits.

Rory blinks at this. "Do you think he'd get angry if I went and asked him? I'm afraid that there's something really bad that happened that maybe if we have a party about it… " He just lets that much trail off. "Do you know where he is?"

"I don't know. If it really bothered him that you were going to have a party, I know he would have said something," Josh offers, somewhat reassuringly The apprentice looks nervous at the thought of going to see the mind mage. "He's probably either eating dinner or back in his suite by now. Um… " Though it seems the Eeee might be about to add something else, he doesn't.

Rory, tending to take most things at face value, doesn't pursue the bait. "Oh! Well, I'll check both places, then! You want to come along?"

"Um … no. You won't tell him I told you, will you? That he was the one?" Josh asks.

"Not unless he asks," Rory says matter-of-factly, "but I can just say that I'm not supposed to tell." Privately, though, the unicorn ponders whether it's really possible to keep a secret from a Mind mage…

The apprentice looks vaguely alarmed by this response. He swallows. "I'm sure it'll be all right," he says, lamely. "I'll … uh … talk to you later, then, Rory." He gives a little wave.

"Sure!" Rory says, grinning. He then starts off, looking for the suite – or someone who can direct him to where Mage Cyprian may have been last sighted…


Rory finds his way first to the dining hall – easier to locate – and there finds that Cyprian has already stopped by for food, then left, presumably to return to his own quarters. One of the mages there gives him directions. It takes some roundabouts without wings, but eventually he finds his way there.

Procession Suite
Blocks of polished gray-black granite shot with silvery flecks form the walls and vaulted dome of this chamber, inset with high, narrow windows composed of multiple small panes of crackled glass. The chamber's walls form most of a circle, flattened on the only inside wall, where a single door leads to the rest of the tower.

The black-furred mage opens the door after the second knock from the unicorn, and at not long before Rory had considered giving up and looking elsewhere. Cyprian looks somewhat winded and uncharacteristically disarrayed. He inhales evenly, focusing on the little unicorn. "Good evening, Journeyman," he greets the boy, cordially.

The unicorn looks up to Cyprian, blinking at his appearance, and folds his hands, looking penitent. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you, Mage Cyprian, but someone told me something – and please don't ask me, because I'm not supposed to tell you who, and I don't want to tell you something that might get someone in trouble… " He goes too far off on this parenthetical remark to figure out how to finish his sentence, so he asks, "Is this party and the bit about the Avenger going to cause you some sort of trouble or anything?"

Cyprian leans against the door jamb, a half-smile forming on his face at the unicorn's long aside. He looks somewhere between exasperated and amused. When Rory gets to his point, the Eeee brushes his hair back from his face, considering the question. "No," he says, at last. "I don't suppose it really matters. If it gives them something to celebrate, then celebrate it. Just … don't make him look like me, all right?" he finishes, quietly.

The unicorn nods slowly. "I'll … uhm … make him bigger and … different. But is there something bad about it? Something you're upset about? And… " He thinks back on the curious look Tanieta had earlier. "Does this have something to do with Mage Tanieta? She had … this really weird look on her face at the meeting."

The Eeee mage opens his mouth, pauses a moment, then steps out of the doorway. "Would you like to come in, Journeyman?" he asks, politely. In the suite beyond, there's a cluster of pale cushioned chairs and sofa in a semi-circle around a dais.

Rory nods. "If it's none of my business, that's all right, and I'll just go away," he says, though he goes ahead and steps into the room regardless. "I'm just really worried, you know. Mage Tanieta is very nice and helps a lot of people, and I don't want to cause any trouble for her, and you're really nice, too, and I honestly don't even want to cause trouble for anyone who's not nice, either."

The unicorn ponders this statement, then amends, "Well, except Rockmore. I'd drop a water-burster on him, for sure."

"… if he wasn't looking," the unicorn further adds. "And I had a good running start."

Cyprian smiles at Rory's commentary, and actually laughs at his reflections on Rockmore. "Mage Tanieta is a good person," he agrees, "and so are you. As for 'Was it really bad?'" The black mage pauses, then shakes his head. "I do not know. I honestly do not know any more. At the time, I thought it was right. And it's not even the act, so much, which bothers me. As you say – Rockmore surely deserved it, if anyone ever did."

The unicorn nods, still looking at Cyprian, as if he's expecting there's more to come.

The Mind mage paces, formulating his thoughts. "Several days ago, Mage bar Emmanuel stepped in front of an angry mob to protect the Guild Hall. That same day you risked your own life to save a total stranger. Mage Tanieta has devoted thousands of hours of her life to over the course of the last several years to helping the sick and injured of Babel. And a year ago, one Mind mage dumped the deaths – the pain, the hatred, and the anger – of a nation into the mind of a single murderer." Cyprian stops, and looks at the unicorn. "Tell me, if you were going to pick one of these people to make a hero of, who would you choose?"

The unicorn frowns, trying desperately to come up with a good answer for this one. "Well … uhm … I don't know, really. I don't want to pick somebody over anyone else. But … I guess I just want to make Dinahzadze happy, because she reminds me a lot of Skiree, and even if she didn't, she's really nice, and I hope a lot of people have fun at the party, and I think people just really want some sort of hero to look up to, and, well, you know, with that dream thing, a lot of people saw the Avenger, but hardly anybody believes the stuff about mages like Tanieta or Nuri bar Emmanuel doing anything. I mean, they were saying it was a Yodhsunala or Envoy who was going around healing people, not Mage Tanieta. But everybody saw that dream. Well, lots of people, anyway."

Cyprian smiles wryly. "And I suppose that's all there is to it. People need heroes. I think they could do a lot better than this 'Avenger.' But if it comes to that, the people of Babel have chosen worse myths to idolize in the past." He shakes his head again. "No. It's all right. I hope it makes for a grand party for you and your friends, Rory."

The unicorn nods. "Thank you, Mage Cyprian. I'll try to make sure it's a really good party and nothing you'd be ashamed of, okay? We'll try not to make too much of a mess. And, really, maybe water bursters would be a silly idea, since we'll be up on Mount Dronnel. We should probably just lob snowballs. Less chance of someone getting wet and catching cold. Uhm … well, that's all, really. Thanks for your time! I'd better go tell Dinahzadze all the good news. And I won't mention the bit about the Avenger being … uh … you-know-who."

"I will appreciate that greatly," the mind mage says, his tone wry but sincere. "Snowballs sound good. Practical and free." He walks Rory to the door.

Rory thanks Cyprian again and again for his time, most abashed about the whole thing, then trots along, intent on delivering his news (what he's allowed to tell, anyway) to Dinahzadze. It's not until after he's out the door and halfway down the hall that the little unicorn realizes … Cyprian never did tell him what Mage Tanieta's reaction was all about!

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GMed by Rowan

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