After the controversial speech that Envoy delivered, she was whisked back to Mount Rephath, borne on a litter by a number of especially muscular Eeee (muscular by Eeee standards, anyway), and given a royal welcome (again, by Eeee standards – they don't quite match Himaatian standards of hospitality).

Envoy has managed to convey that she would like to help entertain Rephath with a story, and also managed to slip in that perhaps Wynona should be allowed to tell a story as well, of her time in Aelfhem. This seemed agreeable to Rephath, and so it is that Envoy has been called to the Hall of Grudges, where Rephath is being entertained.

Seated before the statue is a somewhat smaller Eeee that matches it almost perfectly, seated on a throne behind the stone altar. Her expression is curious indeed, suggesting that she might somehow be angry and pleased at the same time. Her gaze is focused on a couple of Eeee men in guillotines that look like imports all the way from Gallis – complete with pretty little floral designs engraved in the blades and filigrees on the supports.

The guillotines are suspended on platforms that have been assembled on the sunken floor, so that they are raised to the level of the throne and the exits. Thus, they are perfectly within view when Envoy enters the hall on the opposite side.

The Aeolun is somewhat taken aback by the site of the guillotines – not so much at there appropriateness as to the idea that the Yodhrephath would have actually imported them from Gallis. She's removed her outer cloak and robe to provide herself with more freedom of movement, since she expects to do some acting for the Goddess.

"You're just in time, Mage Envoy of Lothrhyn," Rephath says, her voice broadcasting clearly across the chamber, as the Yodhrephath, acolytes and attendants quickly hush their excited chatter. "Behold – two of the men who attacked your airship on its way to Babel. They are scheduled to die today." She winks conspiratorially at Envoy.

Envoy swallows nervously and steps forward. "I don't suppose they've told you how they select their targets?" she asks.

Rephath says, "Not these, but some of their late comrades have told me enough." She looks back to Envoy. "Please don't be disappointed, but they were not specifically intending to go after you. They are not so picky as to only go after visiting dignitaries."

The Aeolun actually blushes a bit at that. "I … thought it more likely that someone was sending them airship routes and timetables from other ports."

One of the condemned bats cries out, "She speaks the truth! It's a conspiracy – We were told of the route her airship was taking, by a contact!" He's recognizable immediately – He's the same fellow who recognized Envoy on the airship – and to whom Envoy introduced her pets, Knick and Knack, taking advantage of his poorly-thought-out attempt to … have his way with Envoy.

Envoy blinks at the outburst, and is surprised to recognize her attacker. "I didn't expect for you to have survived. Although, it is one less death on my conscience," she says to the pirate.

At this, Rephath laughs. It's a very unpleasant laugh, really.

"What's this about a conspiracy?" Envoy asks the pirate, and glances up at the sharp blade suspended above him.

The other bat, the one that Envoy doesn't recognize, struggles to move his head in place, but the clamp doesn't affording him much room. "This is all a mistake! I'm not a pirate! Those brigands flew my way, and then the Yodhrephath just rounded everyone up! I'm innocent!"

The attempted rapist, however, doesn't even bother pleading his innocence. "It was … a mage. A mage in red robes. He was … not a bat. He was some foreigner. He had these … these symbols on his robe."

Envoy looks over the second bat to see if he has the build of a soldier before turning back to the first one. "And what race was the foreign mage?"

The second bat doesn't look especially soldier-like, at least not within Envoy's limited knowledge of Babel's army … but not so pathetic as to rule it out entirely, either.

"He was a Gallah! I mean, a Gallee," the would-be rapist says. "Curly hair, white, maybe a little gray in it. Smelled of perfume, lots of it."

Narrowing her eyes, Envoy asks the pirate, "And why are you telling me this now?"

"He … he said that if I told anyone … I'd die a horrible flaming death! But … I think … what with about to get my head cut off now and all … I'm willing to take the chance," the pirate sputters.

Rephath puts a hand over her mouth. "Well, that's all very interesting, but you should have said all this earlier. Too little, too late." She raises a hand, gesturing, and a couple of Yodhrephath fly over to man the guillotines.

Envoy blinks at this. "Oh, well, I wouldn't worry about a curse from a mage really. We don't do curses. Thank you for the information, though," she says, and then retreats quickly as she sees the Yodh head for the guillotines.

The other condemned bat (the one Envoy hadn't been quite so acquainted with) twists to look at Rephath. "You're making a terrible mistake! I'm innocent!"

Rephath frowns severely. She brings down her hand … and the Yodhrephath release the blades. shunk The two men squeak shrilly, neither of them composed in the face of death, and the smell of fear reeks in the chamber.

Not wanting to watch, Envoy turns her head away from the scene to look at Rephath instead, hoping that from her signals the two aren't really going to be decapitated, just frightened.

The blades drop … and Envoy can still hear them screaming. This continues for a while, until their voices grow hoarse, and their screams die out. The chamber room is silent for a bit … and then several of the Yodhrephath begin giggling and snickering.

Envoy turns back towards the prisoners and lets out the breath she was holding.

Rephath claps her hands together once. "Happy Reckoning Day," she says. "On this day, I am going to show mercy. You will not be slain for your acts of piracy, murder, attempted rape, attempt to flee punishment, and sundry other crimes."

The two condemned bats slump in their places … the blades hovering over their heads, having stopped halfway. The Yodhrephath attendants crank them back up to their initial positions.

"What will be done with them?" Envoy asks Rephath.

Rephath furrows her brow, and moves a hand to silence her. Then, she says, "However, there is one thing I will not forgive. You may claim that my servants have erred … but you shall not infer that my judgment is in error, regarding who is guilty and who is not. You should have waited for my mercy." And with that, she gestures to the Yodhrephath manning the guillotine holding the "innocent" bat captive. He screams.

Envoy squeaks and quickly turns away again!.

This time, the shunk is followed by a sound that is most definitely that of a genuine beheading. The other bat continues to scream, until it's cut off by a thud.

"Very good," Rephath says. "Now then, we have a special treat. I am to understand that Lennu the Large is going to be hatching today. To show my mercy on this day, he will be slain just before the larvae emerge."

Trying not to breathe through her nose, Envoy takes several deep breaths to calm herself. She isn't about to turn around just yet though, she decides. It's one thing for her to deal with corpses that have been dead for some time, but she's not keen on seeing one that was just talking a moment ago.

"Horrib larvae?" Envoy asks weakly, turning just enough to glance at Rephath.

Rephath nods. "They will be contained. I know you have a curious mind, so I will allow you the honor of a seat just outside the box, so you can watch it up close. I am sure that you will find it very educational."

"Actually," Rephath says, "I hope that this does not send the wrong signal to people, that I'm going soft by sparing him the final moments. I do frown very severely upon those who would kill one of my own. But I think it worth the risk – I cannot imagine a criminal timing his capture in the hopes that the larvae will hatch on Reckoning Day. Imagine his horror if they hatched a day early!"

After a bit of imagining just that, it takes an effort for Envoy to remain standing. I shouldn't be so affected by this, she thinks, berating her own weakness, although on its heels she thinks, Shut up, Dragon.

"He killed a Yodhrephath?" Envoy asks once she gets some of her composure back. "While resisting capture?"

The dead body from one guillotine is dumped off the edge of the platform, joining a few others at the bottom, and it's not clear whether they're "fresh", or whether the Yodhrephath only clean up this room for visitors. The other bat, unconscious, is pulled out of the guillotine, and carried off, roughly, by a trio of acolytes.

"Yes," Rephath says. "The punishment for that is to be given over to the horrib." She snaps her fingers, and a large troupe of acolytes begin hauling ropes, causing some cables running across the top of the room to move this way and that, as a large glass-walled box is hauled in, and then the ropes are allowed to slack, so that the box slowly descends to the platform. Inside is a humanoid shape, wrapped in gauzy organic material.

"What was his original offense?" the Exile asks, as she watches the tank.

"Theft," Rephath says. "He stole a blessed loaf from My Temple."

Envoy blinks at this. "Why would he do something he knew he would be caught for like that?"

"You could ask him," Rephath says, "but I do not think he will have much to say."

"It will be soon," one of the Yodhrephath says, from her position where she has landed next to the glassed-in box.

Rephath leans forward on her throne to watch the spectacle. "Hurry, Mage Envoy, or you will miss the moment."

Envoy steps forward, and forces herself to watch. Watch and remember. This is the reality of Babel.

Despite the urge to rush, the spectacle takes quite some time. Envoy can see that, even while cocooned, the body is still breathing. What she can make of the body suggests that it is emaciated. Then, she can see movement … a swelling in the chest. The victim's seemingly vestigial limbs twitch feebly. There's no sound, for the box shuts that off, and there is too much chatter in the chamber amongst the others watching to pick out anything anyway.

Envoy twitches. "You don't … enjoy this, do you?" she quietly asks Rephath.

"Enjoy?" Rephath repeats, considering the word. "I do not think that 'enjoy' is quite strong enough a word. I am fulfilled by this," she says. "This thief thought to rob My Temple. For that, he would have only lost a hand. But he had to compound it by slaying one of My acolytes. For that, this is his fate. When it is complete, then I will be satisfied. Oh … but I must not forget."

Rephath nods to the Yodhrephath standing beside the box. She pulls a cord on the box, and within it, a noose of cables tightens around the cocooned bat's neck. As the Yodhrephath cranks, the cables tighten and constrict, crushing the victim's neck.

At least I didn't have to see his face, Envoy thinks to herself. "I don't suppose you could just give away some bread every day to the poor?"

"If it pleases Me to," Rephath says, sounding faintly annoyed, but she is distracted by the spectacle of the cocooned bat's chest bursting open, as several wet larvae tear their ways out, glistening with iridescent hides in the flickering torchlight.

There are several gasps about the room. One might be able to, if one ignores the nature of their birth, see these larvae as "pretty". Or one might lose one's lunch. It sounds like a couple of the younger acolytes are trying to do just that, but by the sounds of the dry heaves, they were smart enough not to eat before coming here.

Envoy's mouth goes dry. "Rising in status among your Sisters would please you, wouldn't it?" she asks. Now that the spectacle is one of mere biology, she isn't so put off by it.

"Of course it would," Rephath says, and she claps her hands. Now that the spectacle is done with, the box is lifted and carried away. "Now then," Rephath says. "I believe you were going to tell Me a story."

Envoy blinks and turns away from the tank. "Oh … yes, I have one I think you'll like."

The room quiets again, as the Yodhrephath settle in for a story, and Envoy has the center stage. Rephath leans back in her throne, looking quite comfortable.

"On a blasted heath, three figures meet amidst a storm," Envoy begins, going into "actor" mode. She produces a few loud thunderclaps to represent the storm, then hunches over and curls her limbs, saying in the voice of an old crone, "When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?"

For the next few hours, Envoy gives a one-person performance of Macbeth, thinking the tale of greed, treachery, murder and madness will be amusing to the Goddess of Vengeance. "Then yield thee, coward, and live to be the show and gaze o' the time: We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, painted upon a pole, and under writ, 'Here may you see the tyrant,'" she chants in a deep voice, as the climactic battle between Macduff and Macbeth begins.

The Yodhrephath are entranced by Envoy's performance. Her ability to shift voices perfectly for each role no doubt adds something to it, and her choice of play seems to especially ring well with them. After all … they've quite certainly never seen it performed before.

"… And thou oppos'd, being of no woman born, yet I will try the last. Before my body I throw my warlike shield: lay on, Macduff; and damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'" Envoy produces the sounds of a battle as she dances about. Finally, after pantomiming the parading around of Macbeth's head, she gives Malcolm's ending speech, where he promotes his men and heads off to be crowned king.

At the end of Envoy's play, the chamber resounds with applause. Rephath is evidently pleased.

Envoy takes her bow. It's been a long while since she's performed, and for the moment she feels a bit flushed by it.

"Now then," Rephath says, her voice bringing silence to the applause before it had entirely died down on its own, "I believe there is one more story for Me to be told. At Mage Envoy's suggestion, Daughter Wynona is being brought up from the dungeon to tell Me the story of her adventures in Aelfhem. For entertaining Me, her transgression will be forgiven."

Envoy blinks in surprise. "Err … her transgression?"

On cue, Wynona appears at the entrance, flanked by two Yodhrephath. Wynona is dressed in acolyte garb, fixed up presentably, such that only a very close observer would notice the bruises under her fur.

Rephath frowns. "Daughter Wynona thought that it was an error in judgment that I should seek to compel you to speak publicly against the Mages' Guild. She intended to meet with you privately to persuade you not to come to My Temple. I do not tolerate such interference – not even from My own." She smiles slightly. "But this will be forgiven. Wynona, come forth and tell Me your story."

Staring at her friend, Envoy begins to walk towards her before remembering where she is and stopping.

Wynona gives Envoy a pained look only briefly, then gathers her composure and strides to the edge of the entrance platform, then takes wing, alighting upon the central platform to bow before Rephath. "It all began, on my journey on the Lalee-Papu, on its last and doomed voyage across the Himaat… "

Envoy settles down to listen to the tale, and also to gauge the reactions of the Yodhrephath. A story of distant lands must entertain them, she reasons, since they aren't likely to travel much beyond Babel.

Wynona continues through the tale of the Lalee-Papu's destruction, the bizarre magical mishap that somehow blew her a continent away, without a possession to her name, her humiliation when being found by the Aelfin, her gratitude at their generosity, her attempt to negotiate between the Aelfin and the nearby mountain Eeee, the battle that nearly broke out, her spell that went awry … and finally how, against all odds, despite her many mishaps, somehow peace was brought to the land, and Aelfhem was once again opened up to the outside world.

At the end, there is a hush, as the Yodhrephath seem uncertain how to respond to this tale. But at last, Rephath nods, looking satisfied. "A tale of vengeance, a tale of forgiveness. And it is an appropriate way to end My visit to you on this Reckoning Day." And with that, she rises from her throne. "I retire now, to My realm. Continue to serve Me diligently, and you will be rewarded."

Envoy bows to Rephath.

The throne around Rephath darkens, and what looks like some sort of portal forms at the base of the statue. Through it, Envoy can see just a glimpse of some ruined place marked with sharp, clear shadows. Rephath steps through, and the "portal" fades.

The Aeolun shudders, seeing that Rephath must still be staying in the boomer-affected part of Babel.

One of the senior Yodhrephath lands in front of Envoy. "It is time to go. We must clean up from tonight's entertainment," she says, looking meaningfully down to the bodies accumulated on the lower floor.

Wynona doesn't stay behind to chat. She just gives Envoy a regretful look, then takes wing for one of the exits reserved for those staying at the Temple.

Envoy frowns after Wynona, then sighs and nods to the Yodh. "I'm certainly ready to go."

"An excellent story you told," the Yodhrephath says. "Perhaps you will tell another, next Reckoning Day."

"Perhaps," Envoy says. "I may need the work by then."

Unfortunately, Envoy hasn't been given the total red carpet treatment. She was allowed to ride a patrol ship back to the Guild Hall, but it didn't take a direct route getting there, and the sun has already risen and is well on its way up into the sky by the time it gets anywhere close to the Guild Hall. Fortunately, the crew doesn't complain about their passenger taking a short nap on the way.

At last, the airship lands at one of the outer platforms. It seems that somehow the mages there are expecting Envoy, for she recognizes an assortment of them – and some guards – waiting.

Envoy walks down the gangplank and towards the waiting mages, trying to guess at their mood as she gets closer.

If Envoy needed any confirmation, the mood is most certainly stern at best, not very welcoming at all.

There's no, "Welcome back, Mage Envoy," "How are you tonight, Mage Envoy?" "So glad to see you, Mage Envoy," anything like that. Once Envoy's off the gangplank, the patrol craft quickly prepares for departure, and then pulls away from the platform.

Out of the frying pan, Envoy thinks, then puts on a smile as she reaches the not-very-welcoming committee. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she asks.

"Not at all," says Mage Fanta, a white Khatta of the Sphere of Spirit. "Rather, I would like you to come with me. I have a few questions to ask of you, and I would like to perform a ritual to determine your state of spirit."

Envoy nods to the Khatta, "Of course, Mage Fanta. I'm at your disposal." The Aeolun glances around at the other mages though, wondering what their reasons for being there are, aside from honing the edges of their glares.

For the next few hours, Envoy is subjected to a magical examination by the Spirit Mage, Fanta, and a few examinations of a nature she isn't sure of, by other mages. They seem to be preoccupied with finding out whether Envoy has become another "Avatar" or not. At last, Fanta pronounces her verdict, sounding exasperated. "It's Envoy," she declares. "No spirits manipulating her. Just Envoy."

The room Envoy is in, is a featureless chamber, unlike the fancy chambers elsewhere in the Guild Hall. It seems as if it is much lower in the structure than Envoy has gone before. There is only one door in, and presently, Fanta is only talking to the open air … though Envoy can, of course, sense the buzz of active magic at work.

"Um," the Aeolun says, clearing her throat a little. "That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Yes," Fanta says, without much enthusiasm. "It's a good thing." She slowly gets up from her magic circle, smoothing out the folds in her robes. "You can leave now. I believe Mage Cyprian would like to see you before the House Master does."

Envoy bows quickly to the Mage and scurries out of the room, glad to finally be free of it. Once she reaches the stairs, she walks at a more normal pace to Cyprian's office.

A brown-furred lanky Eeee opens the door to the suite at Envoy's knock, then backs quickly away from it. "M-mage Envoy – " he stammers, then adds, "sir," making her wonder if she's talking to him or someone inside the suite.

Envoy smiles to the Eeee and says, "Mage Cyprian wanted to see me."

The lanky bat steps further away at her smile, but a voice from inside says, "It's all right, Joff. Open the door." The door swings open the rest of the way, and a black bat stands there, his eyes glowing green, smoke writhing around his figure. "Clean bill of health, Envoy? No signs of possession?"

"Not by spirits, anyway," Envoy says, stepping inside and smiling to the Mind Mage.

"Indeed." Cyprian gestures to the ritual circle in the center of his room. "Nominally, you are here so that I may determine if you are under the influence of mind magic. Step into the circle, please." His voice is cool and even, controlled.

Envoy steps obediently into the circle. "Will it take long?" she asks.

"Yes," he answers.

Resigning herself, Envoy relaxes as best she can and hopes all the incense she's inhaled over the course of her examinations won't have any side effects.

It turns out to take less time than the analysis by the other mages had, but it's still a good hour or so, during which Envoy has time to contemplate her lack of sleep and wonder if the spell would be affected at all if she dozed off. At last, Cyprian finishes, and takes a long draft from the flask offered him by the apprentice that opened the door. "Thank you, Joff. You may go now." The other departs, after a last stare at Envoy, the door clicking shut behind him. "It would appear that this time, it's just you we're dealing with, Mage Envoy," Cyprian says to her, taking a seat on one of the ivory couches. Tell me: what were you thinking?" The glow around his eyes remains, along with the smoky nimbus – he's plainly still holding a spell.

Envoy takes a seat before answering. "When I left with the Yodhrephath, or during my speech?"

"Either," Cyprian replies shortly, waving a hand. "Take your pick. We have some time yet."

Yet? Envoy thinks. "Well, I was hoping to help someone when I left. Do you need to know who?"

"Yes," the dark-furred mage says, leaning forward. "Believe me, I don't think you want me making any assumptions about your motives."

Envoy blinks in surprise, and says, "I was going to see Captain Karada. I had some information about his son that he wanted to know, and I saw no reason to deny him."

A slight smile curls at the corner of Cyprian's mouth. "Indeed. How long have you been in possession of this information, Mage Envoy? Something the pirates dropped on top of you, and so urgent it could not wait until after Reckoning day to deliver it – or be conveyed at some place other than a temple?"

Fidgeting, Envoy says, "Well, I've had it since the night the High Princess died. I didn't learn anything from the pirates until I was already at Rephath's temple."

"So, this news could keep for more than half a year, but not for another day?" Cyprian's pupilless, glowing gaze fixes on the Aeolun, as he waits for her reply.

"I didn't plan on them sending a patrol ship to pick me up on Reckoning Eve, Cyprian," Envoy replies. "They'd saved my life only the night before, and I felt a certain obligation."

The mage inclines his head, possibly in deference to her point. "You went to convey your secret to this Captain Karada and express your gratitude. And the reason for your speech would be… ?" The black Eeee chooses his words carefully; his voice sounds controlled and the syllables clipped by restraint.

"Well, I hadn't expected Rephath to manifest, now that the big dream ritual was over," the Exile says. "She wanted to see me, and I apologized to her for attempting to manipulate her, and also thanked her for saving Wynona … and she forgave me, but noted that there was something I could do to help her out. She asked me to speak out against the Guild policy of treating the Yodhrephath like monsters to be wiped out."

"I was not aware that it was Guild policy to wipe out the Yodh. Amazing how out of touch we here at the Guild Hall must be with our own plans," Cyprian says dryly. "Do go on."

"Well, something had changed," Envoy says. "They weren't allowed to enter the building this time, when before, a Yodhbarada visited me in my room. And frankly, I do believe the Guild's stance on non-Guild magic users is counterproductive to the realities of Babel. I wasn't reading from a script when I gave my speech."

"I wasn't aware that a prohibition on entering the Guild Hall was the equivalent of an order for extermination. Having concluded that the Guild's stance was, as you say, counter-productive, how would you characterize your own speech?" Cyprian doesn't move as he speaks, only looking at her with the same even gaze.

"Cathartic," Envoy says after thinking about it for a moment. "I have felt a burden of guilt for what's happened in Babel, and getting my frustrations with the College off my chest eased it some."

"Guilt," the mind mage says, succinctly. "For what's happening. In Babel. And you thought that telling off the College and supporting the Yodh would help."

"I'd hoped it would elicit a bit of humility at least." Envoy frowns. "I don't like the Yodh, but they're better than complete anarchy."

"Is that what you hoped for?" Cyprian stands, unsnapping his wings. "Please follow me, Mage Envoy." He turns and takes to the air in the open chamber, winging his way to a ledge inset in the outer wall, before one of the glazed windows.

Envoy spreads her wings and flies up to the ledge after him.

Close up, Envoy can see that the window he's chosen is a narrow door, opening onto a kind of balcony, or a landing platform, perhaps. Cyprian unlatches the glass door and pushes it open, stepping out onto the wide ledge. He leaves the door open for her to follow him.

Curious, Envoy follows the Eeee onto the ledge.

A chill wind whips past them, tousling Envoy's mane and ruffling Cyprian's hair – it's a little longer now than when Envoy has usually seen it, the current length revealing the dark strands as hair, and not head fur. Babel stretches out below and around them, the towers and bridges giddily tall, defying physics. In the depths, far below, flames flicker, here and there. The vast pit where the boomer struck is hardly changed by the passing of time, a great unhealed wound near the heart of the city. All around, other signs of decay show – crumbling towers, peeling brickwork, collapsed bridges. "This is Babel, Mage Envoy. I have lived here almost all of my life. It is my home."

Envoy looks over the vista and nods.

The mind mage raises one arm and points to a spot maybe a quarter of a mile away. "Do you see the fallen tower there?" What he's pointing at looks more like a vast mound of rubble than a tower. Surrounding it are badly damaged buildings, and to the north of it are some other masses of rubble that might be partially collapsed towers, too. "Do you want to know what happened to it?"

"Yes," Envoy says, since Cyprian obviously wants to tell her.

"The towers of Babel are sustained by magic. If stone and adobe alone can rise buildings this high, the Eeee have never known how. They were built with spells, and by spells they must be reinforced." Cyprian wraps his wings around himself like a cloak, the cold wind rustling his clothing. "That tower fell a little after First Ones' Day.

"An Earth mage should have been out to renew its spell a year ago, but the owner kept putting it off. At the beginning of the year, he told the college to stop sending reminders of the needed service. Specifically, he wrote, 'The Yodhzakaro are better than you lot. I won't support your foreign ways or rites – their prayers and chants will be just as good for keeping my tower up. Leave me and my property alone!'"

Envoy hmmms.

Cyprian's wings shift, curling closer to his body. After a long silence, he says, quietly, "And you would tell my people: 'The College has no place in Babel.'"

"That's not what I said, exactly." Envoy frowns. "But I suppose that's how it seemed. I said the College needs to cooperate more with Babel and the Yodh to have a greater effect."

Envoy points to the fallen tower. "If the College had shown more respect for that landlord's beliefs, maybe he wouldn't have rejected them."

The mind mage looks at her, green eyes glowing with a cold fire. "That may be what you meant, Mage Envoy. But it is not what you said. It is not what the Eeee heard, and it is not what the Guild heard, either. You accused College of creating the Wound, Mage Envoy. You said that Caroban should offer reparations for the damages."

"Was there not a conspiracy to drop the boomer?" Envoy asks, glaring back. "Were there not College-trained mages involved in it?"

Cyprian doesn't answer her question directly. He stares out over the city as he starts to speak. "For five long years, Babel blamed Rephidim for the Wound, Mage Envoy. I blamed Rephidim for it. I let a spirit-Rephath use me like a pawn in a quest for vengeance and 'reparations.' What has it gained us? An enemy – and this." The mage gestures with a sweep of one wing to the crumbling city. "Finally, when it was over, Thath offered us a truth that we still do not want to grasp. It was not the plotting of Rephidim or the machination of Caroban. Saraizadze did it. Our High Princess. Babel did this to herself. We did it to ourselves.

"And now you would come here and offer us a new scapegoat. 'Hate the College!' Mage Envoy urges. 'Hate those mages who want to destroy your way of life!'" Cyprian stops, trembling with emotion. "It's not the College who riots in the streets of the city. It's not the College who brings fire and plague to the lowest levels. It's not the mages who implant desperate, half-starved soldiers with horrib eggs and call it 'justice.' It's not Caroban who loots the abandoned homes of Babel, or who squabbles over who should rule in what's left of her pitiful corpse."

Envoy growls. "We are a Guild, Cyprian. Do we deny all responsibility for the actions of our members? Did we even acknowledge that they were a part of Saraizadze's scheme? Babel hates us regardless, but we could at least admit to our failings and apologize to them! Is a little contrition so horrible a reparation to pay?"

"You want contrition, Mage Envoy?" Cyprian turns to face her, looking into her eyes. "You want the Guild to apologize? Fine. Then ask the Guild. You did not speak to the Guild. You spoke to Babel. The Eeee are not big on forgiveness – I don't know if you've noticed that or not – and when you tell them 'Those College Mages killed thousands of your people,' that sends them a message they clearly understand: they have an enemy." He looks down into the city. On one of the lower levels, far below, a bonfire is raging. "In Babel, we do not forgive our enemies, and reparations are paid in blood, not gold. My city has not yet made peace with her old foes, and now, you would give her a new front to fight on. Tell me, Mage Envoy, do you think she looks ready for it?"

"What have we done to make ourselves an ally?" is all Envoy can say, deflating in the face of Cyprian's rage and her general exhaustion, and dropping to sit down on the ledge.

"We stayed." Cyprian curls his wings around his torso again. "In the face of Saraizadze's mad plot, her destruction of the House of the Crafters and Seekers, in the wake of her death, through the tumult of anarchy, the Guild has stayed. We do our jobs – when we are allowed to. We tend to the sick, fight against fires, maintain the towers, and try to keep a tiny bastion of sanity and safety in the midst of chaos. While the nobles and the Yodh scrabble with each other to be the last man standing and every sane Eeee who can has fled to safer grounds, the College has stayed. We have fought a losing battle against chaos, and we have left even the Yodhrephath and the Yodhsunala – blatant sorcerers though they are – alone, because we have understood we have worse enemies."

"But you won't work with them?" Envoy asks. "Fire Mages to help the Yodhrephath fight the pirates? Life Mages to help the Yodhsunala be more effective healers?"

"Lend our strength to their false gods, Mage Envoy? Why not offer our full support, then? Tell me, Mage Envoy: you have spent a day in the presence of their Rephath; would you like to see her in command of Babel? Ruling over Babel and dispensing justice to all as she sees fit, and suffering no opposition to her will?" Cyprian's gaze weighs on her head.

"No, I would not," Envoy admits. "But I can't hire an air fleet to protect the shipping lanes, either. The pirates are worse than the Yodhrephath, Cyprian. And whatever the Yodhrephath believe, they are at least trying to make things better. I don't see why we can't respect them for that."

"No one has said that we do not respect them for that. No one – except you." Cyprian opens the door to his suite, and steps back inside.

Envoy eventually climbs back to her feet and follows the Eeee back inside.

Inside, an Eeee servant is poking around the room cautiously, as if expecting Envoy to be hiding under a seat cushion. "Ah!" he cries on seeing the two mages re-enter. "Er – Mage Cyprian – is she… ?"

"Unaffected by magic of any kind," the mind mage answers, sounding even more weary than Envoy feels.

"Oh. I see." The servant clears his throat. "The House Master wants to see her now."

Cyprian glances to Envoy for a second, then merely nods to the servant.

Envoy prepares to fly down to the floor, but pauses to ask Cyprian, "There is one thing. Is there a Gallee fire mage here with a fondness for perfume?"

With a quirk of an eyebrow, Cyprian shakes his head. "No."

"Ah," Envoy says. "I didn't think I should trust the word of a pirate."

Envoy is bid to walk the rest of the way up the stairs herself, rather than being accompanied by an apprentice. So it is that when she enters the chamber, she does so alone. The only other person in this chamber is an old Eeee, in black robes adorned with golden embroidery of the runes of the elements, his gray-white fur a stark contrast, and his pale gray eyes seeming almost to vanish within the wrinkles lining his features.

Envoy bows to the House Master, and nearly falls over in the act before recovering her balance. She's pretty sure collapsing in the Eeee's presence would not help things any.

"Sit down," the House Master says. There are a few chairs around – all of them suited for fliers – along the edges of the central floor area. He stands near his desk, which is on a slightly raised platform off to one side, staring out a window, toward the east.

The tired Aeolun sits in one of the chairs, and does her best to maintain an attentive posture.

"I regret having to take this action," the House Master says, "but you offer me little choice. In your previous escapades, you couldn't be wholly held accountable. Certainly, you put yourself at risk, you made yourself open to influence by outside forces … but then, one could accuse Dream Mages of opening themselves up to risk every time they work a full ritual. But this time … believe me, Envoy, I tried everything. I had every scryer and seer and expert here at the Hall look into your mind, into your spirit, to find some evidence, some trace that there might be some outside force to blame. Maybe you would say that you were coerced into this. Surely that could be understood. I'm not so sure I could refuse a 'request' from one of the 'Kindly Ladies', given in person. But this … " He shakes his head, and sighs.

"My critical faculties have not fully recovered from my experience with Inala, Master," Envoy says, trying to keep her thoughts in order. "I don't consider it an excuse, though. I acted rashly, based on what I assumed was happening."

"Well. At the very least, I'm pleased to hear that you might be reconsidering your actions. There may be hope yet," he says, in grim seriousness. "But, we are in a precarious position. I have already conferred remotely with my superiors in Caroban, and there were only two possible outcomes. If you had been coerced, we would be compelled to seek action against the Yodhrephath for crossing the line. If you had not been – and I assume here that you still claim you were not – then … we are responsible for the actions of our guild members. And so, I shall have to demand that you remove your guild ring from your hand. Please don't get up just yet. Just set it down beside you."

In a daze, Envoy fumbles off her ring, and sets it down on the chair next to her.

"I realize that you might not have another change of clothes," the elder mage continues, "so I will temporarily waive the requirement that you not be seen in mage robes, for a period of three days. During that time, I would recommend that you find yourself more mundane attire, or re-tailor your clothes so as to not give the appearance of passing for a mage. Your membership in the Mages' Guild is hereby revoked. You are not to practice any sort of magic, as any spellcasting on your part will be without the sanction and approval of the College Esoterica and the Mages' Guild. I would advise you not to be emboldened by the number of 'hedge wizards' you freely state that you have befriended. When matters settle down, your membership might be reconsidered. It would be best not to exacerbate the situation further."

"Yes, Master," Envoy says to show that she understands.

"Furthermore," he adds, "this is not an official order, but I would advise you that it is in your best interests not to associate with any members of the Yodh, any known hedge wizards, sorcerers, or others acting against the authority of the College Esoterica. And, certainly, I wouldn't be paying any calls to 'deities'. Being dismissed from the Guild does not exempt you from our jurisdiction. Rather, be quite sure that your actions will not go unnoticed."

Envoy slowly asks, "When you say 'deities', do you mean beings with a religious following?"

The mage sighs. "Just stay away from free-willed spirits in general," he says, "and it would go best for you."

"No spirits," the Aeolun says, nodding.

"That is all," the House Master says. "You will find official paperwork in your room. You may leave now."

Envoy stands up and manages a brief bow, then turns and actually gets halfway to the stairs before collapsing from exhaustion.