ANightToRemember[continued from The Kings in Yellow] By the time the group arrived at the lab, their bellies were full and night had crept over the university. They'd only encountered a group of Flowers along the way - the mistresses of Snark shanghaiing Rusalka for some nefarious purpose. Compared to the shadowy corridors, the lab itself felt warm and welcoming. The pink teddy bear sat proudly on the main table – resplendent in its cuteness. Joao’s cursed mirror had been covered by someone since they’d left. The scent of brewing tea filled the air – wisps of strong smelling steam rising from a kettle on the fire. Temnal found that the pink teddy bear was beginning to grow on him. There hadn't been a lot of cuteness in his life up till now. As if sensing this appreciation, its glass eyes flickered with malevolent adorability. And yet, the room remained eerily empty. Temnal noticed that one of the lab books had been left open. In large, flowery letters, someone had written, “Not Cute. Bad. Not Cute.” Puzzled -- and not a little suspicious -- he picked up the book and examined it to try to determine what about it had caused the scripted outburst. Apart from the oversized script, the page itself is blank. It’s likely the author chose this page to avoid damaging other notes. "I think it is likely." Joao said, as he walked over to the mirror to regard its covered shape "that Miss Talbot and Miss Baronson have decided to get out of the lab for a bit themselves." "Did you find something?" Joao asked Temnal, turning toward him and the lab book. "Did they leave a note?" "I don't think either of them would have written this, do you?" Temnal replied, turning the book toward Joao. At closer examination, Joao recognized the book – Raina used it for her alchemy lab notes. "It's Raina's book, but I don't think this was in her hand." Joao ventured. "Nah," said Cole. "That was Pamela Ibis, saying she doesn't like desparytides. I wholeheartedly agree with her." He ruffled the fur on the teddy bear's head--as if it were a puppy--and sniffed at the tea. "The tea smells great. Pamela, is that your doing too?" One of the many bells - used as acoustic spell foci - on the eastern side of the room gave a soft ring. The bear exuded an aura of self-satisfaction. "I suppose we could avail ourselves of tea, and await the return of the ladies." Joao said, turning and regarding the kettle on the fire. "Especially since Pamela has gone to so much trouble on our behalf." Action decided, Joao walked toward the fire and the waiting kettle. "I'll let you pour," Cole announced. "I have a tendency to spill such things, for some reason." He smiled at a memory. A thought occurred to Joao as to what Cole might mean, but he decided to simply smile and nod and proceeded to pour four cups of tea. After a moment's thought, he poured a fifth to set in front of the bear. The bear’s eyes flickered with a red light. But it may have just been the reflection of the fireplace. And he may have just imagined the sweet brush of lips on his cheek – a hint of lavender lingering in the air. After a bit, he added, "So, then. Just us guys." Temnal merely nodded at this comment as he accepted a cup of tea from Joao. Then he looked over at Cole and queried, "What was it you said Pamela didn't like? That's not a word I've heard before." "Despair-riptides, or something like that," Cole said. "They have something to do with wonderful, lovely dreams that suddenly turn bad and try to suffocate you. And nightgowns, I think." Joao shook his head. "Miss Baronson explained what Sand told her. Men and women who have been changed into dream-stuff, thereby mutated, made monstrous. As a result of that transformation are extremely dangerous. They seek Dreamers, and destroy them." "Not cute indeed," Joao added dryly. An ember in the fireplace popped loudly. "Indeed not," Temnal agreed. "Did she explain how such creatures come to be?" Cole shrugged, sipped his tea, and stared into the fireplace. "Nyet," Joao confirmed, after a sip of his own tea. "I don't think that Delwin would be more forthcoming than Sand on the subject. If it is needful, I might ask him about it." "Let's try more conventional methods of research first," Temnal suggested, in an unwitting parallel to Gillian's thinking. "How important it is, I suppose, depends on how likely we are to encounter such creatures." Though at times, Cynwyd did like to converse, he also knew when it was best to keep quiet. This, he felt, was one of those times. Though he had some problems piecing the puzzle placed before him int to a true picture of the situation, he was able to get far more information by looking around and seeming, at best, mildly interested in the conversation. But there was a time, to listen, and there was a time to speak. And this last line of questioning which had brought a slight frown to his face made it impossible for him to keep quiet. "It does seem that this is a likely group to be together, for it seems that all of you are collectively lacking self-preservation instincts. You talk as Cole did that first night that we purposely went forward to encounter these creatures. That is to say, crazy. I prefer to stay out of the way of such creatures from now on. For it seems that they have more experience in these matters than we do. Hells, Cole and I only escaped by the barest of margins, and that because I took a fool chance to make it..." A light knock came at the lab door. It was almost immediately accompanied by wistful sigh that echoed through the lab. Cynwyd immediately fell quiet again, looking to the others as he began to distance himself from the door. "I have an idea who that is," said Temnal, who was judging from the sigh as well as who was likely to be knocking on the door rather than just walking straight in. "You do, Temnal?" Joao asked, lowering his cup from his lips. He remained uncharacteristically still except for his eyes, which flickered between Temnal and the door. Nevertheless [Temnal] prepared himself to be wrong as he set down his teacup and went to answer the door. "Yes?" he called softly before opening it. Joao put the cup of tea down, watched, and waited. Seabhac stood in the doorway – a stricken expression on his face, as Joao had caught him mid-yawn. He nodded his head, recovering his composure. “Evening, Ser Joao. I hope I’m not too late. I needed to retrieve a few of my father’s books. “Oh! And I found this lovely vision outside wandering the halls.” He stepped aside to reveal Rusalka. She smiled the sort-of half-blush smile of girls who know they're pretty but still aren't completely used to people saying so. There might also have been a little something in her eyes, like cinnamon, appreciating that he seemed to be okay with her odd relationship with his mother. "Hello, gentlemen. Do come in, Seabhac." She waved Seabhac in with her as she breezed past Temnal. "Anything exciting?" "Welcome back..." Joao paused and smiled "Rusalka" he said, as if it were a conscious decision. "Hello, Seabhac." "It's good to see you both," Temnal seconded him, his guess having been confirmed. "To answer your questions, aside from our ethereal hostess, you haven't missed a terrible amount of excitement here. We've done a little thought gathering on these desparytides, and are wondering where Miss Talbot and Miss Baronson have gone off to. Perhaps for food, as we did. Perhaps for research." Joao shrugged. "There's tea." Joao added "courtesy of our hostess." Cole raised his own teacup to the new arrivals, in combination acknowledgment and salute. "It looks lovely," Rusalka said, breathing in the scent of the tea. "Would you mind filling me in? I don't think I've heard that word before. Desparytide." She said it aloud to be sure. Seabhac paused, eyes widening. Finally, he shrugged in bewilderment and resumed setting his collection on the work table. “I swear by the Serpert’s Eye, you lot involve yourselves with everything foul and unpleasant. Is it a natural attraction or just ridiculously bad luck on all your parts?” He cast a grin at everyone, as well as a respectful nod to Cynwyd. Temnal recognized the title of the top book – the Celaneno Fragments. Sekhmet had once spent an entire season searching for the rare tome, which detailed research into multi-dimensional beings. He was drawn to it like a magnet, meanwhile replying to Seabhac's comment, "I don't quite know how our ... peculiar situation qualifies." "To answer Rusalka's question first," Joao piped up, "the Desparytide. Miss Baronson explained what Sand in turn told her. Men and women who have been changed into dream-stuff, thereby mutated, made monstrous. As a result of that transformation are extremely dangerous. They seek Dreamers, and destroy them." Cole poured himself more tea. "So don't nap in here." Seabhac nodded, “Aye. They’ve been stripped of everything they once were, so they try to connect to other dreamers. The result, however, is sort of like a drowning person reaching out for another swimmer. They both disappear beneath the waves. And in Limbo that means you never wake up.” Rusalka nodded in turn, her expression troubled. "All right," she said slowly. "Miss Talbot will no doubt research more about it and tell us then, unless our friends from the Courts..." Joao nodded to Temnal and Seabhac "might as well." "With the books Seabhac has apparently brought--" Temnal started before Gillian's arrival interrupted him. "Research what?" Gillian asked as she walked through the door. She paused at the threshold, snoring orange tabby in the crook of one arm and paper sack in the other, and looked with interest at all the people in the lab. Her gaze lingered on Seabhac before settling on the stranger. Seabhac returned a bashful grin. Upon seeing her feline burden, he approached her. “Can I help you with that?” "Hey, a new person," she remarked before turning to Seabhac. "Cynwyd, I presume?" Cynwyd made a slight bow in her direction. "It would seem," he drawled, "that you have the advantage of me." "Funny how that keeps happening," [Cynwyd] added, with a look in Cole's direction. Cole shrugged. "It seemed to me that you might like young ladies taking advantage of you. But this is Gillian Talbot. Gillian, this is Cynwyd Barimen. And now, Cynwyd, you've met everyone involved in this mess, to the best of my knowledge." She smiled shyly at Seabhac and handed over the sleeping cat. "Thanks, my arm's about to fall off. Would you settle her over by the fire? And put this beside her?" She handed him the paper sack as well. "Thanks..." Seabhac did as she asked, carrying the orange seat-cushion over to the fire and setting her down. He grabbed himself some tea while he was there, as well as a cup for Gillian. Gillian turned back to Cynwyd and sketched a brief curtsy. "Pleased to meet you, though I wish the circumstances weren't so dire." She accepted the tea from Seabhac and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered. "Welcome back, Gillian," Rusalka said. "Um, these desparytides - I assume then they're what we see in the Hour? Or is that a dumb question?" "Not a dumb question," Cole replied. "The one I met here seemed very similar. But all gibbering horrors look pretty much alike to me." "I haven't found out much about them yet," Gillian admitted to Rusalka as she shed her cloak. "Professor Hobbs about had kittens when I casually mentioned them to him and I suspect referenced information regarding them is in the restricted section of the library, which is warded." "Mother would not approve of me going into a restricted and protected area of the library," Joao said, sipping the last dregs of his tea. "If this question were merely an idle one for our curiosity, I would counsel all of us not to pursue the subject further," he added. "However..." Joao looked down at his cup, guiltily. "These desparytides are too dangerous to us not to learn more about." Cynwyd's eye raised at that comment, but he said nothing further, content to keep his own counsel as he continued to get a feel for everyone. "I would agree with that," said Temnal. He had by now reached the stack of books Seabhac had left on the table and was leafing through the top one, looking for either a table of contents or an index. From Temnal’s brief glance, he could see that although short (roughly 100 pages) the Celaeno Fragments had little, if any, form of indexing. It heavily referenced other documents – much like a thesis. Seabhac had inserted pieces of paper at points of interest. One rather disturbing entry diagramed a Nepharite – a daemon that lurked in the darker regions of the Wake. In many ways, it reminded him of the thing he’d seen his ‘first’ night. "Simple enough to find out if it's connected," Cole observed. "If it is, it will appear in this room in a few minutes. I don't suppose anyone has a sword handy?" "And speaking of the hour getting late...does anyone know where Raina is?" Gillian cut in, concern on her face. She looked at Joao. Joao turned toward Gillian. "I don't know where she is," he admitted, as if confessing to a deep and dark crime. "I...I thought she pursued you when you left..." Joao paused, taking a moment to try and continue. "...after I drove you from the room with my ill placed words I conveyed from Delwin." Joao looked down, shamefully. "She did...and we talked, but then parted ways," Gillian replied, not remarking on the scene Joao referred to. She had no desire to rehash it, especially not in a room full of people. Joao, head rising at last, nodded in acknowledgement. Anyone paying attention would have noticed the pink bear's eyes glimmer. Immediately, Raina’s notebook fluttered and turned several pages on its own. It stopped at an elegant drawing of an underground temple. Joao and Gillian recognized it immediately. After all, they’d been there once before not too long ago. However, this illustration appeared less threatening without the night wolves added. Gillian's eyes widened. "Pamela, is this where Raina went?" she asked out loud, her hand brushing the drawing. "Sand," Joao whispered, a shiver running down his back. As Joao said the name aloud, Gillian could feel the pages tugging ever-so slightly – dog-earring to where the ghost (presumably) had originally written “Not Cute. Bad. Not Cute.” Meanwhile, Seabhac swirled his tea, “I wouldn’t worry about the desparytide, Cole. Something tells me it won’t appear at midnight.” "Why, do you think it would be afraid to?" Temnal asked, glancing up from the pages of the book he was perusing. "Or do you mean that none of us is likely to go to sleep?" Seabhac shook his head, “Nothing like that, per say. I suspect that as a resident of Limbo that the creature – like everything else – will not experience the Dark Hour. Otherwise, it would be overrun with dreams and nightmares. I suspect the same rule applies for the Wake. I doubt you’ve encountered many true spirits – if any at all. This is something beyond Undershadow, which Limbo and the Wake are a part of.” Temnal raised an eyebrow. "So you think it's just a coincidence that one attacked Cole this evening?" Gillian blinked at Seabhac's explanation, temporarily distracted, then turned to Joao. "I don't understand what happened here," she said in a low voice, "but I remember Raina's intent tonight was to join with Princess Sand the way Rusalka did with Princess Coral. Perhaps she's already done it, for good or ill. Regardless, I'm not sure we can find her before the Hour arrives—and even if we did find her, what we could do." Joao shivered slightly. He finally found the strength to speak, and then fell silent as Cole spoke first. "Say," Cole said, reaching for Raina's notebook, "do you suppose that's one of those drawings the royals use to travel from place to place? Maybe we could go check on her. But now that's got me thinking..." He turned to the next page in the book and started sketching. It quickly became apparent that he was drawing a male figure. Gillian heard a chuckle in her head. <The Drunken One is most perceptive. Your acquaintance created a Trump sketch. Very clever girl, that one. Pity we cannot follow her.> <Why not?> Gillian asked her Voice. She frowned. <I've activated a trump before. And surely Seabhac has, too.> Seabhac glanced over at Cole, “Trumps? Yeah, we all carry them. Usually they take quite some time to construct. Weeks, really. My Aunt Fiona, however, would know more about them. Dad too for that matter, but he’s indefinitely indisposed.” Joao furrowed his eyebrows at Cole's inspiration, Seabhac's words, and then turned toward Gillian, Temnal and Rusalka. "I witnessed Rusalka's joining. It is better to be guided through this." He nodded to Rusalka and then looked at Gillian. "Raina...should not be doing this alone." Joao said, firmly. Gillian was torn. She wanted to help Raina, but time was growing short. She bit her lip. Again, Cynwyd spoke up. "Join?" He looked over to Rusalka. "What does this mean, and who is 'Princess Coral'?" Seabhac sat on a bench, “’Joining’ appears to be the word thrown around for a Conduit melding with their Other. And Princess Coral was my mother. Assassinated some years ago. And now Joined with Rusalka.” He sipped his tea unsteadily, “That is going to take getting used to.” "Other? Conduit?" Cynwyd asked. "Now I'm more confused than ever. Pretend that I don't know anything about what you're talking about, and start from the beginning, please." "We don't have much time before midnight," Gillian broke in. She put down her teacup and walked over to sit next to Seabhac. "You're aware that we all here experience the Dark Hour?" she continued, addressing Cynwyd. "Well, all except for Seabhac. We're trying an experiment tonight to see if proximity to us at the beginning of the Hour will transport him with us—or if he'll pass the time in a black coffin like everyone else. Well, most everyone else who's not us. And Raina. Or monsters and shadows." Gillian noticed she was starting to babble. She took a calming breath. Joao found the strength to give Gillian a comforting nod to continue. "Apparently each person who experiences the Dark Hour—human—does so because they are linked to a dead royal. I don't know if all the links are with royals, but those we were told about are. The royal can speak to you in your head. Anytime they want to—at least that's been my experience—though during the Hour the connection seems strongest. You are the 'conduit' for the royal. "Also apparently, the Conduit can choose to 'join' with their royal, their Voice, the union providing a sharing of power. Maybe memories too. I'm not exactly sure. Ideally, it would benefit both parties. Rusalka has done this with her Voice by naming her. And we're concerned that Raina is doing the same thing and we wish we were there to help. Though I'm not sure there's anything we could do, one way or another. "I do wonder why she chose to leave the lab... I don't believe Raina had the power or expertise to create a trump by herself. Which would mean she had help. Presumably from Sand, her Voice." Gillian's eyes went wide with her train of speculation. "Perhaps Raina didn't wait for the Dark Hour. Perhaps she's already joined with Sand, and Sand...controls her, instead of the other way around, and that's why she created the trump and left. To go back to where Sand had power before she...died." "Then we need to limit who seeks her out," Joao said, "while the others remain here to carry out the experiment with Seabhac. To be immodest, there is only one qualified candidate to find her on short notice. Myself." Temnal nodded, comprehending. "Because your—Other—is a close relative. But isn't that dangerous? You said they hated each other." While Joao formulated his reply, Cole held up his completed sketch. It was a reasonably decent rendering of a tall, muscular man. "Okay. This is the big guy that lives in my head. Anybody know who he is? If I'm going to name him, I want to make sure I use the right one." Seabhac stood up and went to look over Cole’s shoulder. He scratched the back of his neck, considering the image. “I recognize him. I think I’ve seen his picture somewhere. At the castle. Yeah. Definitely up at the castle. Uncle Benedict had this and another painting in his study. But I've never been brave enough to ask him who they were.” Cynwyd felt an icy voice exhale in the back of his mind. <Finndo. Our brother.> "Are you sure about this?" Cynwyd asked, looking at Cole, but also, on another level, asking the same of the voice in his head. "What benefit is there to this joining... and what drawbacks?" he continued, hoping to reason out the answer for Cole and for himself. "After all, even with his name, you don't know who he is. Are you willing to take that risk?" Cole shrugged. "If Bob's right, the world's going to end in a year. At that point it won't matter if this body is controlled by me, or this guy, or some combination of both of us. So we might as well maximize our abilities now, to hit these things as hard as we can for as long as we can. I'm not thrilled with the idea, but..." He looked around the room. "If drawing on his abilities will save the people I care about, it seems worth it." Joao, who looked somewhat distracted, gave a nod to Cole at his words. "Besides," Cole added, with a wicked grin at Cynwyd, "think what it will mean for the Brightblade tournament." "You still couldn't beat me," Cynwyd said with a smile. Then after a pause, he said, soberly, "Finndo. His name is ... Finndo." Seabhac’s head snapped around, “Finndo. Yes. That’s right. Benedict’s lost brother. I believe my grandfather sent Finndo and his brother, Osric, to die in some pointless war. A punishment for the Karm Incident.” Both Cole and Cynwyd felt an uncommon flash of rage at this revelation. "Tell me more of... Osric," Cynwyd asked intently. Seabhac shrugged, “I wish I could, Cynwyd. I know he was Finndo’s opposite in many ways. He focused on the arcane, rather than the martial. And he supported his brother, even when it did not serve him well.” Gillian heared a sardonic chuckle. <Poor Osric. His brother’s keeper and a willing slave to both Unicorn and Serpent. He would have preferred to spend his time unraveling Creation and untying a bodice or two while he was at it. Such a wasted talent.> She swallowed uncomfortably and looked down at her lap. "That's two of us identified then," Cole said, "if not actually Named. And the Naming should probably wait until after this evening's experiment. There's enough side drama going on already. Speaking of which, what are we going to do about Raina?" <So have you been identified?> Cynwyd thought. <You're uncharacteristically silent on the matter...> <Hah. You of all people know that it is better to listen than to engage unnecesarily. But yes, I sense that was my name. Cybele and I ruled Amber's arcane world until the Typhonians were born.> Joao looked toward Temnal. "Delwin does hate Sand," he admitted. "However, that only means that they have a bond that I think, if I ask him, he can exploit to find Sand...and Raina." Joao let his gaze roam around the room. "If anyone has a better suggestion, and abandoning her for this Darkest Hour is not a suggestion I am willing to entertain, then I am all ears." “As long as you are aware that we might not be able to extract you,” Seabhac said. “Not immediately anyhow. We can use the Gates to get to Raina, but that will take time.” "That is a problem," Joao confirmed. "There's also the possibility that she won't experience the Hour," Gillian offered. "Didn't you say, Joao, that it didn't reach Rebma? Raina, if she is with the wolves, is much further away than Rebma." "Da," Joao said and quieted as Gillian continued. "I don't say this to dissuade you from your plan of action, but only to perhaps help ease your anxiety." Joao nodded. "To leave her alone out there, at the mercy of the conjoining with Sand, without help...I cannot remain inactive." He turned his head aware from the others for a few moments. "Oh, my Raina..." he said, seemingly unaware he had spoken aloud. Ginger belched from behind them and giggled, “What’s the worst that can happen? She gets turned into a meat-suit. Heh-heh-snort-zzzzz…” Seabhac patted Joao’s shoulder, “She’ll be fine, Joao. Let’s not do anything too hasty. It might make matters worse, if you rush in. Thirty minutes here is unlikely to make a difference there, right? By now, she’s probably already gone through midnight there.” Gillian went and picked up Ginger from the hearth and brought her back to the bench. The inebriated feline remained snoring deadweight. Her proximity, however, began to muddy Gillian’s thoughts, as if she’d had a few glasses of sherry. With each passing moment, her inhibitions began to slip away. Gillian blinked—apparently their link was getting stronger. Her brow furrowed as she tried to run back through her memories to determine if there was a pattern or somesuch to the increased sensitivity, but her thoughts quickly became muddled and she gave up with a soft hiccup. She glanced around guiltily. Joao ran his hands through his hair. Finally he nodded to Seabhac and then turned to regard Gillian, Cole, Cynwyd, Rusalka and Temnal. "I will do nothing hasty. For now," Joao said. "To act would be worse than not to act. "We are close to putting our plan in motion, da? Should we prepare Seabhac in any way?" "I don't know about Seabhac," Cole said, "but I'd feel more prepared if I had a good piece of sharp steel in my hand. I don't suppose one of you magically gifted types can pull such a thing out of your..." He glanced at Rusalka and Gillian. "Sleeves," he lamely decided. "Not as such," Temnal admitted. Seabhac stood up, adjusting his glasses. “Well, we have about thirty minutes. Gillian, Joao, and I could prepare some weaponry. Temnal? Have you studied wards of any kind? Perhaps they might be of use to us. Between my supplies and the lab’s, I’m certain you could fashion something. And Cole and Cynwyd, although the lab is pretty sequestered, you may wish to confirm no one else will be caught up in the Dark Hour.” He rubbed the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable with offering suggestions. "We may want to place some wards," Temnal agreed, "but it won't serve our purposes if they end up warding off what we're trying to study. Keeping out unwanted intrusions might not be a bad idea, though." Gillian hummed to herself while others sorted things out, enjoying the mind-numbing effects of her link with Ginger. It was doing wonders for keeping at bay the there-are-things-that-want-my-blood-Dark-Hour anxiety, and the I've-entered-into-an-agreement-with-Prince-Caine-and-I'm-going-to-get-screwed anxiety, and the Seabhac-wants-to-come-into-the-Dark-Hour-and-what-if-something-happens-to-him anxiety. It was even helping quell the there-is-a-power-hungry-Princess-Cybele-in-my-head-that-wants-to-make-me-her-bitch anxiety. She fleetingly wished she knew how to purr. [continued in The Face Behind the Skin] |
