- Writing Levels
- Adaptable
- Genres
- I'm wary of magic with lots of rules.
Adelheid stood at the foot of the stage. She had not moved since the detachment disappeared into the maw, rappelling down on a knotted rope made of the stage curtains. The majordomo had long departured with jingling fanfare, disappearing to the backhouse to continue wringing his hands. Several patrollers dangled their legs at the edge of the hole.
The rope twitched and all heads shifted to it, like dewflowers catching the sun. The ones that ringed the hole were the first to reach for their masks, personalized contraptions of leather, vellum, and filter material. They strapped them tight around their clean shaven faces and gripped their spears, long shafts of pointed bone, as they braced themselves at the precipice and looked down. An irritated shake of Adelheid's scabbard forced them at ease as she ascended to the stage and peered down maskless, steadied against the rope. In the wet darkness was the faint flicker of a flare at the bottom, drifting like a spore as it climbed the knotted ladder.
"Eggs," Xola gasped into Adelheid's ear as soon as she was free of the dark. "Everywhere." Behind her, Sekani's ribbon curled into circles, over and over and over.
"The Specter will have to be quarantined." The weight of responsibility grew Adelheid against the majordomo, who had shrunk even more against her newfound authority. "We will stretch a vellum ceiling over the amphitheater and isolate the bowl." The majordomo sputtered with much chiming, but could not formulate a riposte until the firecracker minordomo ducked around him. "There will be patrols placed in shifts at the top of the ring -"
"The Red Specter will not be quarantined." She was dressed in facsimile of her superior, and although she was a head shorter than Adelheid she stood straight, edging out the hunched over majordomo. "We have shows scheduled nights from now. Madam Roussa will not stand for this. What is the reason?"
"I cannot say, until I have given my report to the council. You may come along and make your case." The Captain-Commander's white tunic was in sharp contrast to the revealing jewelry of the minordomo. "But until we have decided on a firm course of action, for the safety of Cadia I have to-"
"Have to? Safety?" A finger stopped just short of her nose, and though Adelheid did not flinch she blinked. "You have no grounds inside of Cadia. No authority. Until you come back to me with an edict, leave. At once."
"..."
"Are you going to use your heirloom on me?" Adelheid's gaze was yanked to her hand, gripping the handle of her star-iron sword. "Because that's the only thing that will let you keep your goons here."
The extended silence was broken by the rattle of the sword, as she tilted the pommel of the still-sheathed blade to the stairs that led back up to Atrium. The Captain's eyes spent just a moment to take in the frightened quirk of the minordomo's lips. She snorted and left with her detachment.
"Send for arbormancer." The minor punched the major's arm. "Now!!"
"... a nest." Adelheid finished her testimony. She sat erect at the head of the long wooden table, both of her palms placed on its surface, and only at the conclusion of her report did she bring her hands together, one over the other in front of her.
"Unprecedented." The old matriarch of the cutters was nearly agape the entire time. "The belly is the thickest part of Cadia. Surveys have shown layers of blubber at several times a Cadian's height, ending in impenetrable wallskin. We've never been able to go past it, even with the current - current thinning of the ceiling." She fiddled with an earring.
Keeper Ulmar adjusted his glasses, one paw for each temple. He had done that often over the testimony - perhaps an adjustment was in the future for him. "I am unaware of any record of incursion from the belly. There is some oral history of insectsign at the tailward fringe communities, but I am inclined to dismiss that as hearsay. There just has never been any thing like this!"
All eyes turned to Adelheid, but she squeezed her hands on top of each other and remained silent.
"There-" all ears turned to Barca, blonde and clean-shaven, robed in simple patrol garb. "There have been some trends reported from the waystations outside. It is still too early to tell - "
"Ah! Y-yes." Adelheid only nodded in confirmation. She had removed circlet from her brow for the meeting.
"..." Barca frowned nearly imperceptibly as he continued, "but we have seen bugsign closer than normal at this time of the year. Our forecasting cycles are off, and we misestimated the Hydell bloom." He looked to Adelheid, but the Captain-Commander lowered her gaze from Kolmi, who sat at the opposite head of the table, to the councilwoman's hands, and remained quiet.
The water clock struck for the last time of the day, but there was no sign that the meeting would come to an end. The keepers of time locked the tube into place as the ceiling continued to dim. Kolmi stood and moved about the chambers, pouring luminescent fluid into various vials and small jars.
"How deep did your scouts say this nest went?"
"Deep!" Adelheid snapped to attention for Kolmi. "A mix of antlion mucous and dirt. They reported eggs, a twisting structure as far as they scouted, and the- and the fungus."
.....
....
...
..
.
"No ..." breathed Abraham, horrified. "A nest!" Barca and Abraham whispered to each other near closing hour at What A Waist.
"But.. but.. they have to.." Abraham's head jerked all over the place. He began to pant, perspiration beading on his forehead. "We have to purge- we have to salt the eggs.. desiccants.. Why isn't the Specter completely surrounded?"
"Of course we have to purge it. But Tora was still bickering with Adelheid. She's so green. Hasn't even memorized the cycles yet. Tora kept pushing ambergris to repair the belly, but Kolmi refused. Said there hadn't been a proper accounting done." He took a long swig. "Then someone from the Specter came in and barked about schedules until I forced the session to adjourn for tomorrow."
"What?! Fire! Just fire and salt!"
"Calm yourself!" Barca tapped his mug on the table. "I'm working on it."
"I- I have to go. My family." The grandpa and veteran left his half finished mug on the table. Barca remained to finish his own drink, and left a coin behind.
"Hey, Davreth..." Gorhal paused between his tenth or twentieth ale. The barkeep looked up from polishing the countertop.
"What's a 'nest'?"
Just outside the door, Barca snapped his fingers. A small flame appeared above the fading tattoo on his palm, though he did not need it in brightly lit Atrium. He rubbed the scar across his cheek, the one that had forced him into retirement, a victim of his very own rules, and set off for home.
The rope twitched and all heads shifted to it, like dewflowers catching the sun. The ones that ringed the hole were the first to reach for their masks, personalized contraptions of leather, vellum, and filter material. They strapped them tight around their clean shaven faces and gripped their spears, long shafts of pointed bone, as they braced themselves at the precipice and looked down. An irritated shake of Adelheid's scabbard forced them at ease as she ascended to the stage and peered down maskless, steadied against the rope. In the wet darkness was the faint flicker of a flare at the bottom, drifting like a spore as it climbed the knotted ladder.
"Eggs," Xola gasped into Adelheid's ear as soon as she was free of the dark. "Everywhere." Behind her, Sekani's ribbon curled into circles, over and over and over.
"The Specter will have to be quarantined." The weight of responsibility grew Adelheid against the majordomo, who had shrunk even more against her newfound authority. "We will stretch a vellum ceiling over the amphitheater and isolate the bowl." The majordomo sputtered with much chiming, but could not formulate a riposte until the firecracker minordomo ducked around him. "There will be patrols placed in shifts at the top of the ring -"
"The Red Specter will not be quarantined." She was dressed in facsimile of her superior, and although she was a head shorter than Adelheid she stood straight, edging out the hunched over majordomo. "We have shows scheduled nights from now. Madam Roussa will not stand for this. What is the reason?"
"I cannot say, until I have given my report to the council. You may come along and make your case." The Captain-Commander's white tunic was in sharp contrast to the revealing jewelry of the minordomo. "But until we have decided on a firm course of action, for the safety of Cadia I have to-"
"Have to? Safety?" A finger stopped just short of her nose, and though Adelheid did not flinch she blinked. "You have no grounds inside of Cadia. No authority. Until you come back to me with an edict, leave. At once."
"..."
"Are you going to use your heirloom on me?" Adelheid's gaze was yanked to her hand, gripping the handle of her star-iron sword. "Because that's the only thing that will let you keep your goons here."
The extended silence was broken by the rattle of the sword, as she tilted the pommel of the still-sheathed blade to the stairs that led back up to Atrium. The Captain's eyes spent just a moment to take in the frightened quirk of the minordomo's lips. She snorted and left with her detachment.
"Send for arbormancer." The minor punched the major's arm. "Now!!"
"... a nest." Adelheid finished her testimony. She sat erect at the head of the long wooden table, both of her palms placed on its surface, and only at the conclusion of her report did she bring her hands together, one over the other in front of her.
"Unprecedented." The old matriarch of the cutters was nearly agape the entire time. "The belly is the thickest part of Cadia. Surveys have shown layers of blubber at several times a Cadian's height, ending in impenetrable wallskin. We've never been able to go past it, even with the current - current thinning of the ceiling." She fiddled with an earring.
Keeper Ulmar adjusted his glasses, one paw for each temple. He had done that often over the testimony - perhaps an adjustment was in the future for him. "I am unaware of any record of incursion from the belly. There is some oral history of insectsign at the tailward fringe communities, but I am inclined to dismiss that as hearsay. There just has never been any thing like this!"
All eyes turned to Adelheid, but she squeezed her hands on top of each other and remained silent.
"There-" all ears turned to Barca, blonde and clean-shaven, robed in simple patrol garb. "There have been some trends reported from the waystations outside. It is still too early to tell - "
"Ah! Y-yes." Adelheid only nodded in confirmation. She had removed circlet from her brow for the meeting.
"..." Barca frowned nearly imperceptibly as he continued, "but we have seen bugsign closer than normal at this time of the year. Our forecasting cycles are off, and we misestimated the Hydell bloom." He looked to Adelheid, but the Captain-Commander lowered her gaze from Kolmi, who sat at the opposite head of the table, to the councilwoman's hands, and remained quiet.
The water clock struck for the last time of the day, but there was no sign that the meeting would come to an end. The keepers of time locked the tube into place as the ceiling continued to dim. Kolmi stood and moved about the chambers, pouring luminescent fluid into various vials and small jars.
"How deep did your scouts say this nest went?"
"Deep!" Adelheid snapped to attention for Kolmi. "A mix of antlion mucous and dirt. They reported eggs, a twisting structure as far as they scouted, and the- and the fungus."
.....
....
...
..
.
"No ..." breathed Abraham, horrified. "A nest!" Barca and Abraham whispered to each other near closing hour at What A Waist.
"But.. but.. they have to.." Abraham's head jerked all over the place. He began to pant, perspiration beading on his forehead. "We have to purge- we have to salt the eggs.. desiccants.. Why isn't the Specter completely surrounded?"
"Of course we have to purge it. But Tora was still bickering with Adelheid. She's so green. Hasn't even memorized the cycles yet. Tora kept pushing ambergris to repair the belly, but Kolmi refused. Said there hadn't been a proper accounting done." He took a long swig. "Then someone from the Specter came in and barked about schedules until I forced the session to adjourn for tomorrow."
"What?! Fire! Just fire and salt!"
"Calm yourself!" Barca tapped his mug on the table. "I'm working on it."
"I- I have to go. My family." The grandpa and veteran left his half finished mug on the table. Barca remained to finish his own drink, and left a coin behind.
"Hey, Davreth..." Gorhal paused between his tenth or twentieth ale. The barkeep looked up from polishing the countertop.
"What's a 'nest'?"
Just outside the door, Barca snapped his fingers. A small flame appeared above the fading tattoo on his palm, though he did not need it in brightly lit Atrium. He rubbed the scar across his cheek, the one that had forced him into retirement, a victim of his very own rules, and set off for home.
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