A few days have passed since Harvest Tide. The word was that big things were going on in the world beyond. The High Prince Boghaz was assassinated. The Nagai Empire has a "boomer", and refuses the Temple's demands that it be dismantled. The whole of the Knights Templar gathered in Rephidim and have gone off somewhere for "training exercises", after flying in formation over the city. One of the Lancers, it was said, was a Naga. And there was some minor news about some political mess down in Sylvania involving some ex-Rephidimite Khatta being made a Count, and refusing to join the Gallisians.

Not that it really affects how things go in the College Esoterica. It's a day much like any other…

… a day which finds Qing coiled at a table in an empty classroom, a stack of books piled on it. A chalkboard behind him still holds myriad notes, illustrated circles, definitions, and suggested reading materials. Empty seats ring a working area with some smudged circles left behind after they'd been done with, a few used and discarded supplies left in lined wooden buckets nearby.

The door to the classroom creaks open, admitting a very short black Naga wearing a pearl white vest over a gray blouse with a starched, oversized collar that is turned up in such a way that just serves to emphasize how scrawny his little neck is. "Ah!" hisses the garter, his tongue flicking about. "Mage Qing. Greetingsss."

At first, the witchdoctor pays about as much attention to the garter as he does the pair of wispy blue spheres orbiting and trailing around him. After taking a moment to slowly and deliberately write a note in the margin of one of his books, Qing acknowledges the newcomer by raising his head.

The garter flicks his tongue again, then hisses, "A ride awaitsss you. To take you back to Nagai. We fear another incssident sssuch as what happened when that Ssshiga robbed the Temple. We ssstill do not know what happened to Minissster Bassssai, when he could not leave Rephidim on account of their ssstupid prohibition on any Nagai or Jingai leaving the cssity."

The mage sits still for a moment, then places his quill back in its inkwell. He leans back, letting the two pairs of arms laying on the table drag off and fall to his sides. Qing nods slightly as he uncoils himself. "What is the situation?"

The garter slithers across the floor, smudging some charcoal on his scales carelessly. "The Temple isss threatening Nagai over thisss ssso-called 'boomer'. Your sssafety isss feared for, sssince you are a cssitizen of the Nagai Empire. Rephidim hasss been insssensssitive to Nagai concssernsss in the passst. It isss bessst to leave before the Temple placssesss any ressstrictionsss. You can, after all, alwaysss come back when thingsss cool down."

"… Very well. There is little further use for me here, for the time being." Qing eyes the messenger and then points where the spell circles are smeared, but merely flicks his tongue, once and slowly. "I have little I need to bring with me. Lead me to the transport."

The Winding Way cuts southward across the lands that comprise the continent of Ai, having left Rephidim and Nordika far behind to the north.

A Naga with enameled scales that fade from gold to patterns of emerald and sapphire slithers across the deck, her robes shimmering in an inverse pattern. "Mage Qing," she hisses in Imperial, "is there anything that you may require? Have you eaten recently? Should the Air Mage adjust the temperature any?"

The Rokuga stares at a point on the horizon, his arms folded under his white mantle. The voluminous garment is supplemented by a white sheath of cloth that wraps Qing's coils, tied close by crisscrossed black cords, making the snake look as though he's covered by exaggerated, foot-wide scales of fabric. He just swivels his head slightly back and forth in a negative gesture.

The Naga places her hands together and dips her head subserviently. "Then I shall leave you to your contemplation. The Emperor-Potentate has great need of your services, and we are all certain that you shall please him. Your feats are well known in the Empire." She then turns and slithers away.

The lands far below are wilderness and mountains. Himar, probably. Ah yes. Right where Elamoore should be, there is a large red plateau rising from the treetops.

Though for all his movement he might as well be a robed statue, thoughts march through Qing's head in succession, orderly but still disturbing. ( The Empire calls me… needs me… but for what? The weapon I warned Zoltan about… is it in our hands now? I live only for the homeland's glory now, but will we have to defend what it may have been a mistake to claim? That weapon is a curse that the Empire will jealously guard… I am sure of it… )

The Winding Way continues its journey across Ai, eventually passing over the Himar Region, then the sands of the Himaat. The ship skirts around the treacherous mountains of Kilmanjar, and then follows the coast of Xenea, making a stop in Safar. Then, it is on to Bromthen … and today a suspicious mass of clouds can be seen ahead in an otherwise clear sky. Just the sort of cloud cluster that tends to accompany sky islands.

"Fetiss Sky Island," hisses Sephira, the lady Naga Life Mage that has been seeing to it that Qing's journey is as comfortable as can be managed. "The glorious jewel in the Emperor-Potentate's crown. The best gift that Minister Bassai ever gave the Empire."

Not much can be seen of this "jewel" at present … but there is quite a bit of activity in the air, just off the coast. There are several airships. One of them looks like the Intimidator. And there are multitudes of warriors on rakhtors, pteras, wyrms and other flying beasts. So … this is where that "training exercise" is being held.

Qing nods slowly, and finally breaks a silence he's kept largely intact since the start of the trip. "The Emperor requires my services here, then? … It is good that we wasted no time. I trust the details of any assignments may be acquired upon our landing." He watches the cloud banks approach for a while, letting the cross-winds on the deck tug his mantle around. After a few moments, he swivels his head to look at the other Naga, eyes hidden behind his smoked spectacles. "You miss him."

The female Naga's neck jerks ever so slightly, as she flicks her tongue in surprise, then hisses, "Yes. … You will be told all that you will need to know." As the airship approaches the mass of clouds, they start to fade and part, pushed aside by a previously invisible "bubble" of air surrounding the craft … probably something to do with the warm air that has made this journey bearable. The wall of clouds is fairly thin … soon giving way to a view of a floating sky island, not nearly so large as Rephidim, but large enough to sustain life, it seems.

The earth of the sky island looks fairly dull, really, until it reaches a mountain in the center. This "mountain" is oddly formed … actually the walls of a wide and deep bowl of rock with a lushly vegetated valley in its center. The airship glides smoothly over the island, and turns softly as it prepares to land in the heart of the bowl.

Below, flowers of all colors of the rainbow reflect the sunlight … and change color, it seems, in waves. There also appear to be fortifications built up on the rim of the bowl – watchtowers – and some more buildings and tents set up in the heart of the valley.

The witchdoctor looks upon Fetiss Sky Island from over the edge of the craft. "Yes… Bassai's gift is of a magnitude few others could hope to aspire to." He tugs his bowl hat slightly lower. "What was the last that was heard from the minister?"

"He was in Rephidim," replies the life mage. "The Temple prohibited any Naga, Shiga, Kiriga, Rokuga … or anyone looking the least bit reptilian, it seems … from leaving Rephidim. But once the prohibition was lifted … he was gone. And no one knew what had happened to him. The Temple admitted nothing."

The airship glides down into the bowl, and the winged pteras alight upon the ground, coiling their tails and folding their wings as they rest from their journey. Some burly Rokugas secure the tie-down lines … and gangplanks are set in place.

It looks like a small delegation of Nagas is waiting. One of them looks like a bureaucrat, decked out in resplendent robes, and of the python variety. Most of the rest have far more drab attire. Scientists and doctors, probably, pulled reluctantly from their work to great a new arrival.

Qing dips his head once, his lower body unlooping itself in preparations to debark. "We have had our disagreements in the past, Sephira, but Bassai… you… " His uncoiling becomes slower and less orderly for a moment. "… Never mind. Let us meet our colleagues."

The gold, emerald and sapphire Naga bobs her head, and slithers down the gangplank.

The python at the base of the plank rises a bit on his coils. "Ah! Welcome to Fetiss Sky Island! You are on time."

Qing inclines his head slightly, the paired wisps trailing after him rising up behind him to either side. "Witchdoctor Zhu Ye Qing, of the Higher Institute of Sorcery and the Supernatural. I have arrived as requested, and await instruction."

The python inclines his head. "Administrator Zerstoren, of the College of Resource Management, serving the Emperor-Potentate by overseeing the operations on this island. Here … let us show you to the facility." He gestures with a sweep of his arm, and begins slithering toward an unassuming-looking building that looks to have been quickly thrown up as a temporary research shack.

Qing follows along, taking a moment to unroll the collar of his mantle and bring it up his neck to ward off the cool. "What kinds of research are being conducted here, Administrator?"

A Shiga servant rushes over to slide open the doors, and the reptiles slither on inside. Inside, the structure looks considerably more solid … and a ramp descends into the ground a short distance. It looks more like this is a bunker that was built into the earth, and then covered with a facade of a "temporary" structure … perhaps to insure that in the case of attack, it would not necessarily be the first site to be targeted.

Suspended in a sturdy-looking steel frame in the middle of the room … is a slightly ovoid-looking object with a mottled black surface, and fins at one side.

Zerstoren hisses, "This … is the 'boomer'." He then turns to the six-armed Rokuga. "It is our understanding that several Exiles died while bringing it to Sinai. We wish to see if their spirits may have left essences on this artifact … and if perhaps you could conjure them so that we might question them about its operation."

The witchdoctor glides along the ramp, swerving around Zerstoren to find a place to coil. He studies the strange object over the tops of his glasses, and is quiet for a while. He looks back at the python. "It is a possibility. Does the Emperor maintain direct authority over this weapon's deployment and use? I have come recently from Rephidim, but I doubt you need me to tell you what they fear."

Zerstoren's mouth stretches in a way that mammals might interpret as a reptilian attempt at a smile. "The Emperor-Potentate is all-knowing. His seers are monitoring our progress even now as we speak." He straightens up proudly. "Rephidim rightly fears this device … because they fear any sort of power that is not directly under their control. But it shall not be turned on them. No … the Emperor-Potentate has far greater plans… " He frowns slightly, then hisses, "… but you need not be concerned with that. I have had the standard supplies brought in, and the finest of candles, chalks and herbs. If there is anything else you require, it shall be brought."

Qing flicks his tongue twice, staring at the Administrator until he seems to realize his spectacles have slipped down. He slides them back up the bridge of his nose. "If it is the Emperor's will, then so be it. Have the supplies brought here, then leave me to work my rituals. I expect four hours should suffice."

Zerstoren looks quite pleased at this, and claps his hands together.

Several Shigas patter into the chamber, carrying a multitude of supplies – more than should ever be needed for a single ritual.

Zerstoren hisses, "There. That should do it. I shall check back in four hours, then." He slithers off toward the door.

The Shiga servants quickly file out.

Satisfied that the materials are workable, the witchdoctor takes up a piece of fine chalk. He looks it over, rotating it between his fingers thoughtfully, before passing it to a lower set of hands. With a firm clack, the end of the chalk touches the floor, and the drawing begins…

The chamber is quiet, as Qing is all alone with the 'boomer'.

The clacking of chalk echoes below-ground as lines are placed on the walls and floors, with aisles left for the witchdoctor to travel in. Candles space the patterns, and soon soft yellow light reflects from the metal frameworks, and the forbidding bulk of the "boomer" itself. Qing whispers as his arms seem to go about tasks all by themselves, muttering strange phrases and names.

Time drags on. Even though the candles are meant to burn long, they sit low, dribbles of melted wax spreading from their bases. Sigils, faces, writings, and signs zigzag across the floor, and leer from the walls, the dancing shadows from the flickering candles making them almost appear to move. Qing himself has ceased to, and sits at the entryway to the chamber, all six hands clasped in front of himself as his chanting continues, droning. Finally, it stops, and there is silence again. The candles gutter, then are simultaneously snuffed. Instead of their warm glow, a pale blue light reflects from the walls, streaks of cyan highlighting the sides of the fearsome weapon suspended from its frame.

Qing's upper right hand unclasps from the other, reaching up to remove and pocket his spectacles as one of the middle hands withdraws from the mage's mantle. In it is jar with a glass rod and a deep crimson liquid.

The room is still quiet, save for a pop from one of the candles. Must have been a spot of moisture on the wick.

The witchdoctor stands poised with the jar, his bearing tense. Slowly, his shoulders begin to relax… imperceptible at first, but then a bit more until they actually begin lowering the jar, with weariness… and even relief.

As the blue light fades, the reptile takes a hooded lantern from the table he'd been using to light candles, and opens the slats on it to illuminate the chamber again. "Most… curious," murmurs the witchdoctor to himself, moving closer to the hanging device.

With a few moment's muttering, the mage extends one hand, a small, shimmering, worm-like shape coalescing into being in front of it. The "worm" wiggles for a moment, then wobbles through the air to press one end of itself almost inquisitively against the boomer.

The spirit seems to go through the "boomer" effortlessly … not even the slightest ripple of passing through a solid object. It's as if the artifact simply isn't there. But then … even the very air itself would have more "presence" in the Sphere of Spirit than this artifact does.

Qing releases the wisp, continuing to stare at the device. "Amazing. Truly, it cannot be of our world," he murmurs to himself. "I almost did not believe it. But then, how did the Babelites manage it?"

No one answers Qing's question. The boomer just sits there, suspended, silent.

A scholar's curiosity takes hold of Qing, and he begins making alterations to the chalk circles adorning the floor. Lines are shifted, moved, sigils wiped away with damp cloth and replaced by others, and the chanting begins anew.

The droning continues, steady and even, as Qing's arms twist and turn in painful-looking precision, like a scaly white clock from a surreal culture. "Eye of He Whose Coils Span the Sky… bring thy watchful gaze down from where celestial clarity draws aside the clouds of aether. Allow me to see that which can be seen by those on high… "

A thin slit of cerulean splits a section of air for a moment before widening into a vaguely eye-shaped outline. Qing lays back, leaning into his coils to chant, though his own eyes seem to go unfocused. The floating apparition begins slowly and smoothly moving toward the boomer.

Perceptions shift, and Qing's perspective now becomes that of his spirit slave, as it floats toward the boomer. Just a little further, and it will pass through the shell, if the Rokuga so wills.

Qing allows it to continue on, though a reserved portion of his mind tells him he doesn't want to know what lies beyond the smooth face of the weapon.

The image shifts to darkness, as no light penetrates the shell … but this is a spirit, and it need not see with the vision of mortal eyes. Images assault Qing, then change into sensory input that he feels rather than sees. Complex mechanisms. Strange minerals not of this world. Rods of very dense metal. Synapses … no, circuits. Something seems to stir in the device, as if the spirit's passing is prompting energy to move in some of the wires. But otherwise, the boomer presents no resistance at all to the spirit's intrusion.

The Rokuga's body stiffens as these alien sensations roll over his consciousness, confusing and alarming him… but he continues to probe the recesses of the weapon, seeking to describe to himself what makes up this strange artifact. Boxes and things that feel like creatures… but don't? Strange parts that seem inert, but must mean something. Here, there, everywhere little pathways from place to place, the meanings of which are beyond the mage's understanding. As it gets to be too much to absorb, Qing wills the spirit to gradually withdraw.

However, before Qing gets quite that far, the sensation strikes him again that the wires are responding somehow to the spirit's movements. Just as the notion might occur to him that he lingered a little too long … the whole room explodes.

Just before the whiteness descends, a thought flits through Qing's mind, "Nothing more to fear. For you… Lili – "

Reality shatters, and Qing's senses are overwhelmed with a whirlwind of images. The Procession. The stars. A sun with a massive ring around it? A gaseous nebula. A mind-bogglingly infinite expanse of water. A city of white and gold. A place of fire and lava.

A world of swirling purple mists. A maze of crystal tunnels that extends to the horizon, suspended over orange clouds. A crystal castle that floats over clouds of chocolate brown. A valley where the grasses change colors with each shifting of the wind … and where dunes of sand shift into banks of snow or rolling plains in the blink of an eye.

A forest where the trees and even the waters are alive, and strange creatures made of rounded bones or eggshells or something bob around and honk at each other.

A stone island with waves crashing against it, under a stormy green sky. An ocean of mercury that reflects a cloudless and Procession-less night sky.

A silt-covered gray land with swirling mists, where fragments of architecture float in the air, and a crystal waterfall crashes nearby, making sounds like chimes. A silhouette in the shape of a cross between a Khatta and an Eeee stands atop a broken bridge, then turns to look at Qing … and smiles.

A flash of brilliant light … and then … a stone wall lit with flickering lights as if from candles. No … wait. That's no wall. It's a ceiling.

Qing finds himself lying in a heap on the floor of the chamber. The "boomer" is suspended in a steel framework nearby.

Qing gets a fleeting sensation that the spirit has dissipated … somewhere far, far away.

A pair of spectacles lie on the floor nearby.

The pale Rokuga just lies there, staring up at the ceiling with lidless crimson eyes. Thought slowly trickles back to him in the wake of all the images… the first being, "Beautiful… " then the second a little more involved. "Am I… alive?"

The Rokuga's voice as he speaks his thoughts aloud is audible in his own ears … along with the pounding of his own heart. It would seem he's still alive, or at least putting on a good show of it.

Slowly and unsteadily, movement returns to the tangle of Qing's limbs, slowly unraveling themselves and feeling around the floor for the snake's spectacles. It's a little while longer before Qing even attempts to lift any part of himself off the floor, lying more like a real snake. "I… I yet live," Qing whispers to himself. "Lili, I… the weapon, it did not… it would… those visions… "

One of the hands manages to find the fallen spectacles – still intact, thank the Serpent.

Placing them back on the bridge of his nose, slightly askew, the Rokuga lifts himself back relatively upright, disheveled but seeming unhurt. His coils feel weak and shaky yet from the experience, but he tries to move anyway, up the ramp, knocking a few unspent candles and supply bags off the table as he bumps it on his way.

Just then, the door opens up. Zerstoren looks in, looking quite smug, then switches to a look of surprise as he finds himself nearly face to face with Qing. He quickly recovers. "Ah! Mage Qing, you are punctual as ever. What did you learn?"

Qing stares blankly at the Administrator, his spectacles still askew, dust from the chamber still ground into the side of the mantle Qing had been laying on. "… Too much to handle," he hisses numbly, finally a little more stable. "It's… I must… where are we? I must know, where are we?"

Zerstoren blinks (obviously being of the type of Nagai that have eyelids), and says, "Why, Mage Qing, we are on Fetiss Sky Island. Floating over Bromthen. We have barely moved since you started four hours ago."

"Are we sure? Can we see beyond the clouds?" The witchdoctor reaches out with all six hands to either side of Zerstoren. "Someone who can fly must go. I must be sure."

Zerstoren looks a bit alarmed now, despite his best attempt to hide it. "Of course. I'll send a ptera-rider out immediately." He turns about, and calls out, "Send out a scout! Verify that we are still over Bromthen!"

A Shiga climbs onto one of the big flying reptiles, and the creature wings off, disappearing into the clouds.

The witchdoctor stares after the ptera, the muscles of his throat tense and his jaws locked. His tail writhes behind him, and Qing doesn't even seem to notice.

It's a long wait … no telling how long … until the red ptera wings back into view. It lands, and the Shiga scout gets down, padding back over to the python. "Still over Bromthen, sir. And the Rephidimites are still out there."

The Rokuga's midsection bends in relief, almost depositing Qing back on the ground. He wobbles there, taking a moment to straighten his spectacles finally. "Then… it must have been the Eye. The Eye triggered something, and was thrown to reaches unknown. By the Great Serpent's celestial throne, what power… "

"The Eye?" echoes the Administrator. "Whatever are you talking about? I know nothing about mage babble. You'll have to translate."

"The Eye of the Serpent!" snaps Qing. He stands there for a moment, then clutches his head, shaking it. "Ugh, wait… let me get it in order… " The reptile settles back into his coils, and takes a long breath. "When I cast the ritual to bring into being any spirit imprints left lingering on the 'boomer', I found nothing. The device was utterly spotless in latent spirit magicks… as though it were invisible to them. A vacuum, nothing."

"Which means?" queries Zerstoren.

Qing lays his the knuckles of his topmost hand in one of his palms. "I have never seen anything on Sinai that had no spirit signature or latent energies. It would be impossible without something constantly exorcising magic from the object… and that is magic in and of itself. Since my spirits could pass through the weapon, I decided to probe it, to perhaps gain some insight by seeing what was within."

Zerstoren shrugs. "Well, as I said earlier … several Exiles died bringing this weapon to Sinai. It is not of this world, we are told. Ah … but what did your probe discover, then?"

"Yes, yes, I know that!" Qing flicks his tongue once or twice, poking one of his fingers into the center of a palm to illustrate a point to no-one paying attention to his hands. (Not even himself.) "When I sent the spirit observer, the Eye, through the device's shell, it found many things strange and mysterious… and I saw everything the Eye saw. Then it encountered some mechanism within the device, and my mind was inundated with images from other worlds. I felt the spirit dissipate, and I knew it felt far away. It had been sent countless leagues by the device, I am certain."

Zerstoren flicks his tongues a few times at this. He doesn't seem to have any comment to interject at the moment.

Qing stirs his hands around aimlessly. "It was amazing! Unlike anything I have ever experienced. I could not move for what felt like eons. I… I… " He slowly comes to realize he isn't talking to just himself, and shakes his head. "I am afraid, Administrator, that there are no spirits that can answer how the boomer is triggered. I have seen a little of what it does; that is all."

Zerstoren suddenly looks quite pleased. "Splendid! Splendid! I knew you would come through! Well!" He clasps his hands together. "You look quite exhausted. I'll have the servants clean up … and I'll have you shown your quarters. You can rest up … and we'll start again in the morning, shall we?"

The Rokuga lays a hand to his head, as though a dizzy spell had crossed over him. "… Yes, that is best. I must think about what has transpired."

Turning away, and murmuring to himself, Qing winds back across the sky island toward a plain-looking building that looks to have been thrown together as yet another temporary part of the camp. His aloofness and disdain, for the time being, seem to have fled in the wake of these unsettling events, but he continues to barely acknowledge anyone's presence, this time for a different reason.