ThatWhichIsLostTemnal arrived in the library not long after his astronomy class – the only time during the day he could avoid mandatory classes. Thus far, he had not encountered anyone who’d seen Raina or Gillian. Then again, most students were less than helpful when it came to dealing with a Chaosian. As he approached the front desk, a young woman emerged from the backroom. She appeared indignant, as did the large, brown toad sitting on her head. “I suppose you need help?” she said, noticing him from behind her bottle-thick glasses. She flumped into her chair and stared impatiently. "I'd just like to know if Gillian Talbot has been in today," Temnal told her. “Oh bother!” she exclaimed. “Not another one! No. She isn’t here. And no you can’t talk to Professor Hobbs, because he’s in with the last boy that’s looking for her.” "What boy is that?" Temnal inquired, wondering if another of their group had gotten here before him. She leaned against the desk, wrinkling her nose. “Seriously, when did Bookwyrm get a fan club? Have you seen that girl?” Temnal regarded her levelly. "Miss Talbot is a lady and a scholar," he informed the young woman. His golden-eyed stare seemed to question whether the person before him merited either title. The girl stared back at him blankly – as if retreating into the shadows of her green eyes. After a moment, the frog gave out a flatulent ribbet, drawing her back to the present. “Right. Yeah. I guess she is at that. Sure. Well, it’s some guy from House Karm. Malachi, I think he said his name was.” Temnal frowned slightly. He wasn't familiar with the name, and wondered what this other young man wanted with Gillian. Of course, he reflected with an inward shrug, Malachi could be nothing more than a classmate who wanted to borrow her notes or find out what the homework was. Still, under the circumstances ... maybe he should wait around a little longer and at least have a look at the fellow. For the moment, he gave a polite nod to the girl with the frog on her head. "No one I'm acquainted with. Thank you anyway." He drifted off into the stacks, perfunctorily scanning the shelves while he kept a covert eye on the door to Professor Hobbs' office. Temnal could occasionally make out a tall shape through the office’s frosted glass, but little else. But as he maintained his vigil, he realized he was not the only one observing these goings-on. In a darkened corner three rows down, a delicate woman with brown mottled hair watched the door like an attentive osprey. Oddly, the light from a nearby window never quite reached her, appearing to bend around her alcove. Were it not for his Duk'zarist blood, he probably would never have noticed her. Such a phenomenon, under the circumstances, couldn't help but pique Temnal's curiosity. He crossed over to the card catalog and pulled out a drawer or two at random, flipping through the cards therein. He paused and pretended to study one for a few moments. Then he walked straight over to the corner where the woman stood. "Pardon me," he addressed her courteously. "It appears the book I'm looking for is on that shelf behind you. If you wouldn't mind...?" The woman jumped at his voice. Whatever the arcane effect she’d created might have been, it immediately ended at the distraction, sunlight brightening the alcove. She appeared far more suited for the light than darkness, her avian features accented by the golden rays. She blinked in numbed shock, speaking in an accent. “Uh… ja. Of course. Forgive me stand in way.” "That's quite all right," Temnal assured her. She backed up slightly, her focus now on Temnal’s unusual appearance. “What is you?” Temnal smiled. "I might ask the same." He accorded the woman a slight bow. "Temnal nov'dy Chanicut, at your service, madam." “Swanhild Hvítvarđi,” she replied, considering him with a raptor’s attentiveness. “You are Duk'zarist, ja? Not see your kind far from Abyss. Usually in hidey-hole. So, why come out of burrow, shadow soul?” ~ She’s a Sylvain ~ his voice whispered. "I got tired of burrowing," Temnal answered easily. Then, drawing a bow at a venture, he went on to remark, "As a Sylvain, you're rather far from home too, aren't you?" She bit the side of her mouth. “You perceptive. And am far from home. But sometime we must fly, ja?” "Definitely," Temnal agreed, thinking of his foster sister Sekhmet. The office door opened and a tall young man stepped through. From where he was, he could easily see them. Swanhild immediately stiffened, as if caught in an illicit act. She tried to manage a smile in the young man’s direction, waggling her fingers. “Guten Morgen, Malachi.” Temnal also turned to look at the young man. Apparently Swanhild was waiting for Malachi, not Gillian, he thought with a certain measure of relief. Malachi stopped in mid-stride, looking startled. "Swanhild. Good morning." He scratched his head, for all the world like a man unsure why his car would not start. "I meant what I said. You should go. It's better that way. Safer." “Why? Because if not, ghost come get me, ja?” Swanhild said, placing her hands on her hips. “I say we deal with together. So not go away so easy. Maybe this Gillian is other woman and you give me cold elbow?” As an afterthought, her thumb shot out and thumped Temnal’s chest, “This Temnal. He Duk'zarist.” Temnal retreated a step, startled. "He's what?" Malachi glanced at the strange looking man. "Um, How d'you do?" Temnal accorded Malachi a nod, but the other man went on before he could speak. Without waiting for a reply, Malachi returned his attention to the headstrong woman. "Now see here, Swanhild, I've never even met Ms. Talbot. I'm sure she's perfectly ... adequate ... but she's not the other woman. "Wait a moment. There is no other woman. No other woman at all. For that matter, there isn't a woman in the first place. I like you, Swanhild. I think under other circumstances, I might like you a lot. But we've only just met less than a day ago. Already you've been put in more danger than I can allow. No, I forbid it. Please, go back to your classes." It certainly sounded final in his head. Swanhild’s eyes tightened. “You, ‘forbid’”? The word came out so coldly, the men could almost see icicles form on her frowning lips. "So if you haven't previously met Miss Talbot, why are you asking after her?" Temnal inquired, then went on to explain, "I'm a friend of hers." Malachi paused, thinking. "The Blackcloaks asked me if I knew her. Immediately after suggesting I might be involved in 'terrorism'. I wanted to compare notes with the lady." "Terrorism? That doesn't sound like her," said Temnal. Then he went on to ask, "What happened to you that involved the Blackcloaks?" "I'm sorry, Mister. I'm just not prepared to talk about that. Suffice it to say they were wrong. "Were you looking for Ms. Talbot or did you come with Swanhild?" “I spying on you, thank you very much,” Swanhild snapped, folding her arms indignantly. “He interrupt.” She stepped forward and speared Malachi’s chest with her fingertip. “This not over, Malachi. You need me, ja? You above your head. I help with ghosts. So, no more cold elbow. Am involved in this whether you like or no. And you still owe me goodnight kiss!” She speared him again and then stormed off. Malachi watched her go, a scowl on his face. He turned to Temnal and asked with perfect frankness, "Do you understand women?" "Some days, I'm not sure I understand people, Temnal replied. "Anyway, to answer your question -- yes, I came to find out if Gillian was here. She ... sort of went missing, last night, and I and some of her other friends are worried about her." Malachi appeared less concerned about the unknown Ms. Talbot than he did about the departing storm that was Swanhild. However, he visibly wrenched his attention back to the man before him. "She didn't happen to go missing just around midnight, did she?" Temnal's golden eyes narrowed slightly. "Around then, yes. This incident with the Blackcloaks ... I won't ask for details, but would that have happened around the same time?" The big man's response was less than guarded. He seemed almost unaware of it. "Yes. Well, the Blackcloaks came later, to deal with the wreckage. But the incident was at midnight. What about you? Did something happen to you, too?" Temnal took a breath. "There are ... a number of us to whom disturbing things have been happening, around midnight. Gillian -- Miss Talbot -- is one of them. Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to meet some of the rest of us, as well." Malachi looked around briefly, as if expecting there might be someone lurking within earshot. "You've seen it!" he said with relief. He stepped in very close to Temnal, seemingly unconcerned by the close physical presence. "You've seen the... the Wake. What do you know about it? Did you meet the brothers?" "The Wake? Is that what you call it? We tend to call it the Dark Hour," Temnal responded. "And on our own, we've all had ... different experiences. I don't recall anyone else mentioning brothers." Except, he remembered now, Gillian talking about her own brother whose soul had been stolen, or something. But he doubted Malachi meant anything like that. "It was Swanhild's term. She knows a little of what happened to me, and I described it to the Blackcloaks. I've left thorough descriptions that will go to the hands of the authorities if anything happens to me. If you don't know about the brothers, I have a lot to tell you. Maybe you have something to teach me, too. But first, I'm beginning to learn a little caution. You're not exactly from around here. How do I know you're not with the other side?" "You don't, I suppose," Temnal replied thoughtfully, "except that, as far as I can tell, creatures of the Dark Hour only manifest during the Dark Hour. Although..." He paused and, lifting his chin, groped around inside his shirtfront until he was able to fish out the silver pendant that hung around his neck under his school uniform. He held it out on his palm to show it to Malachi: a rampant unicorn within the curve of a crescent moon. "I don't think any ally of the Dark would wear my Lady's token," he said gravely. "Hmm," grunted Malachi, and seemed to think no further of it. "If Ms. Talbot is not coming, we should go. I would like to meet these others. I have a message for them. For you." "That does sound like a good idea," said Temnal, meanwhile secreting the pendant under his shirt again, "but at this time of day I'm not really sure where to find any of them. Looking for Gillian at the library is usually a good guess, but beyond that..." He paused. "We might try the fencing salle. Cole and Cynwyd, I gather, both spend a good deal of time there." "How many of us are there?" asked Malachi, falling into step beside the dark man. "Let me see. So far I've come to know of Gillian, Rusalka, Raina, Cole, Cynwyd, and Joao. And myself, of course. I'm not sure if Seabhac counts ... he's a friend of Gillian's who managed to experience the Hour with us, but as far as I know he's not a conduit." He paused as another thought occurred to him, but Malachi spoke before he could ask the question. "Do you trust them all? Well, come to think of it, there isn't anything I have to say that the enemy probably doesn't already know. They certainly know my identity, so I hope you're right when you say they only come out during this 'Dark Hour'. But I think you might be wrong about that. What I don't want them to learn are the names of my friends. It's why I sent that girl, Swanhild, away." "I can understand that, though at this point, if she's not aware during the Dark Hour, I don't know whether she'd actually be in danger or not. But as you say, it pays to be cautious." Temnal regarded Malachi for a moment and then said, "I suppose the other relevant question is whether you've heard a voice in your head, that's not yours ... either during the Dark Hour or at any other time." "Me? Nope." Malachi rapped his forehead with his knuckles. "Got all my marbles. It does sound pretty crazy, but you saw it too, right? We can't both be off our rockers, can we?" "I'll reserve judgment on that," Temnal said dryly. "But if you haven't ... it could be you're not a conduit after all. Or not yet. Or it could be that your counterpart is simply lying low." Malachi regarded the other man solemnly, then smiled. "Do I have to ask, or are you going to explain that?" "Mm. It's complicated, and if I try to explain it cold, you may just think I'm missing a few marbles," Temnal responded with a slight, wry smile. "That's assuming you don't already." "Well, no more so than most big-city folks, anyway. I'll let you decide if I need to know before this meeting. No particular reason I can think of you have to trust me, either. But I would like to hear it before we part ways." "Yes, I think you need to know it," Temnal agreed. "I just want to be sure you get a straight story -- straight as it can be, anyway." "Let's hear it, then." "Give me a few minutes to get my thoughts together, then," said Temnal, "and I'll do my best." As they proceeded out of the library, Malachi occasionally looked around to be sure no one was following too closely and might overhear them. "Tell me, have you ever encountered a vicious young buck in white and his sister in this here Dark Hour? I've got a score to settle with those two." Temnal shook his head. "I certainly haven't, and I don't remember any of the others mentioning someone like that, either." "Yeah. That makes a certain amount of sense. They said they were there for me, and I got the sense that they meant me personally. So what did you see in the Dark Hour, then? Do you have any sense of what it's all about? Because that's sort of what I wanted to talk to the whole group about." "Talking to the whole group at once sounds like the best idea," said Temnal. "Or as many as we can get together. But as for knowing what it's all about..." He shrugged. "The old man probably comes closest, and he's definitely a few bricks shy of a load." "So you have met him. Good. It's his message I mean. Well, to be honest, 'message' might be putting too much of a spit shine on it. It's probably closer to 'crazy rambling I got a message out of.' And he's one of the brothers I talked about." "'One of the brothers'? That's definitely new to me," said Temnal. "But he does seem to be pivotal to it all, and if you've met him, I'm more than ever convinced you're connected with our group in some way. What were the circumstances of your meeting him? Was the princess with him?" Malachi was suddenly solemn, his face wistful. "Yes. Her Highness Mirelle. It was the only thing I didn't like about Ted ... that's what he called himself ... the way he treated her. Not bad, but just like she was no one special, like he didn't see how hurt she was. How sad. With all his power, he should have helped her." This small point of chivalry seemed to carry more weight and emotion for Malachi than all their discussion of the Dark Hour. "I should have told him so." "He called himself 'Bob' when we met him," Temnal commented, "though the betting is that neither one is his real name. The Princess ... it's hard to tell about her." "No, her I understood. She's lost not only her life but some part of herself more fundamental than that. She believes she's no longer worthy of love." "Hm. I wonder if she ... never mind. If you've already met the Princess Mirelle, then it may not surprise you as much to find out that other deceased members of the House of Amber are involved in all this. "I mentioned that we -- most of us -- are conduits. It's apparently these spirits that we are conduits for." "When you say 'conduit', what do you mean? Like mediums? Or do they talk in your heads?" Malachi certainly didn't seem to think it was crazy. "It's more than that, or can be," said Temnal. "During the Dark Hour especially, we ... share their powers to an extent. More, I think, if we take the next step and somehow merge with our counterpart. That's not something I've done yet," he went on to explain. "Merge?" asked Malachi. "That seems unwise. Who has done that? And what do these spirits want?" "It's not so much what they want," said Temnal, "but what might be ... necessary to do what needs to be done. I'm not entirely sure they've been given any more choice in the matter than we have," he added thoughtfully. "And is everyone who's seen the Dark Hour a conduit but me? If so, I think I know why. I may be my own conduit." Temnal pursed his lips. "That would be ... anomalous, to say the least. What makes you think so?" Malachi stared at Temnal for a long time. Almost the moment stretched to a certainty that he would not reply before he said, simply, "I'm dead. "Or I was. Ted, or Bob, or whatever his name is, brought me back to life. But when I was dead I spoke to both Ted and his brother. The dead see the Dark Hour, too. Ted enlisted me into his service and gave me life again. I think I may be my own conduit." "I suppose that's not impossible," Temnal said slowly, "though why the old man should make such an arrangement I'm not sure. The other possibility I can think of is, well ... you may be the only one of us who remembers it. The 'contract', that is. The old man claimed that each of us had made one, and that we wouldn't be alive otherwise. I'm not sure about the others, but I know that in my own case ... there's a gap in my memory when I might have died, and I know for certain there was ... divine intervention. The fortune-teller saw it too," he added in a lower voice. As the two men arrived at the gymnasium, Malachi looked confused, then looked at his shoes and his voice took on a thicker Karm drawl than usual. "You said they was 'fencers'. That don't mean they're diggin' holes, I reckon. Not here. Damn. Umm... what is fencing, exactly?" "Swordfighting, basically," Temnal replied. He studied Malachi and added hopefully, "You do look like a big-sword type of person, if you don't mind my saying so." Malachi shook his head, looking up at the gymnasium. "Not me. I can use a bow okay. Forester's sons don't carry swords in Karm. They told the Lady she should have me trained as a bodyguard, but she insisted I come here to study." His serious face brightened suddenly. "But maybe I could do both! They teach fighting here? With swords? Do you need someone's permission? I might get the Lady's permission, if I wrote her a letter. "I was planning to join the wrestling team when the season came. I wonder if they'd let me do both?" "I expect they'll let you join as many athletic teams as you can fit into your schedule," Temnal guessed, amused. "Whether you can keep yourself in practice for them all and get your classwork done would be the tricky part. There are only so many hours in a day." "Shall we go in and see the others?" "See if they're there, anyway," agreed Temnal. He led the way into the gymnasium building and headed for the fencing salle. As they drew closer to the fencing salle, the duo heard someone yelling on the other side of the door. A woman from the sounds of it. A very, very angry woman -- her banshee scream resonating through the hall. The yelling crescendoed -- and then a student came flying through the swinging doors, propelled by some as yet unknown force. As the body crumpled in front of them, Temnal recognized the lanky form of his companion, Cole. After a morning of geometry and arithmetic, Cole’s head had been spinning by the time he reached his midday training. But when he walked in on an empty salle, things got much, much worse in surprisingly short order. Commander Kel came out of nowhere, grabbing his elbow in a vicious lock, and then tossed him across the room. She began howling at him, tossing him about like a practice dummy, the ringing in his ears deafening him to anything she happened to be saying. By the sixth face-plant into the padded floor, he surmised from the snippets of information getting through to his rattled brain that she was slightly disappointed about his fighting in the public courtyard last night. Or that was his best guess, anyway. Having one's head used as a medicine ball did tend to muddle the message. “And don’t you forget it!” the miniature cyclone howled, tossing him through the doors and into the hallway, where he came to a skidding halt at the feet of Temnal -- no one else looked like that -- and a tall, rugged young fellow. Temnal looked down at him, blinking in surprise. Without missing a beat, Malachi grinned and said to Temnal, "Yes, sir, that fellow's day is going a little like my evening last night." |
