When he got back to the house, Brin told Tonin he’d only be stopping by for a mont and wouldn’t have ti to eat, so he didn’t need to bother the cook. Marksi disagreed with that; he wasn’t interested in the Cult of Tenerer at all, but he was very interested in food, so they agreed that Marksi would eat but Brin had no ti.
Tonin suggested that Brin should still change out of his school clothes and into attire better suited to the city, and Brin complied, if only because it ant so much to him. He dressed in Steamshield blacks and grays, complete with the tricorn hat, and was right about to leave again when he heard a crash coming from the front hallway.
He rushed over to find Bedelia hands and knees on the ground next to a shattered vase. It was almost lit up like a target because it was a bright teal, when most of the rest of the decorations in the room had been transitioned to blacks and reds with accents of tan and gold. There were several bats flapping in a circle around the ceiling, and a confused-looking owl hanging around in the corner. The bats were hard light like Bedelia, but the owl was surprisingly real. He thought he knew what was going on because it matched a Frenarian idiom. To ‘trade bats for a barn owl’ ant… actually, he didn’t really know what it ant.
An actual human housekeeper was already scolding Bedelia. “...foolish girl! Your idiocy I can forgive, but what am I to do with your clumsiness? Honestly, the master is too kind. I don’t know why he keeps you around. Hurry and tidy this up before… oh, no! Master Mistaken, I am so sorry. You know I would never use a taphor if she were in the room, but she must have overheard .”
“I’m sorry,” Bedelia moaned, and tried to move two of the bigger pieces together, maybe hoping that they would magically go back together sohow.
“You’ll never fix it like that! And you can forget about replacing it. It wasn’t made in Steamshield. You’d have to travel all the way to Bragova to get another,” said the housekeeper. “What are we to do? I… I was the one who was tasked with watching you today. Master Hogg is going to…”
“He’s going to send back,” Bedelia whimpered. “He’s going to send ho to the infinite darkness.” He tried to rub the tears out of her eyes, but there were shards of glass on her fingers now and they rubbed into her eyes and left thin trails of scratches across her cheek, leaving trails of black blood.
Hogg was laying it on a little thick today.
The housekeeper’s anger was forgotten and she bent down and put a hand on Bedelia’s shoulder. “He’ll do no such thing. We’ll figure it out!”
Brin yanked all of the glass into the air. Not a lot of things reacted to his magic, but porcelain thankfully did. “Allow .”
Once he was certain he’d gotten it all, he plucked so of the larger pieces out of the air with his fingers to put them together like a puzzle. He’d always liked puzzles. When he could feel they really fit together, he sealed them in place with his glass magic. He was pleased to see that he could fit them as well as if they’d never broken, and the checkerboard design was completely uninterrupted.
“Thank you, Master Mistaken. You’re a blessing. A true blessing!” said the housekeeper.
“Any chance you’ll forget to ntion this to Hogg?” asked Bedelia.
Brin just chuckled and shook his head, turning to go back towards the warehouse side of the house, letting the glass trail behind him.
He sent an eye ahead, and found that Hogg was in his office, so he headed inside.
Hogg was staring at a construct of hard light, hanging in the air. It was a reproduction of a steam engine, and Hogg could twirl it around in the air or split it in half to look at the insides. Hard light was the perfect prototyping tool.
“So who's on your list?” Hogg asked when Brin entered.
It took Brin a minute to rember what list Hogg might be talking about. “Oh, the invite list to Lumina’s thing. I already invited Alnesh. I needed soone to–”
“That was a good choice. Lumina would really like to beco friends with Zinew, if only because it would please Chaos. Plus Marksi looked like he had a good ti with her.”
Brin laughed. “Right. I should really assu that if it happened in the Tower, you already know about it.”
“What? No you shouldn't! There are loads of places in the Tower where it's hard for to watch you.”
“Really? Like where?”
Hogg didn’t answer. He detached part of the return crank, and pulled it back and forth, watching the wheel move. He might’ve been ignoring Brin’s question, or he might’ve just gotten distracted by his work.
“I bet the Circle of Illusions is hard for you to spy on,” said Brin.
Hogg reattached the return crank. “Even in the Circle of Illusions you couldn't help but show off. During the mbership test, I an. You threw down a custom made Mirror Image the second the order left his mouth.”
“It was cool, right?”
“Well sure, but listen. Being the most famous person in the Circle of spies doesn't make you the best. It makes you the worst.”
“I see what’s going on here.” He attached a piece of the broken vase, the piece moving into place with a satisfying click. “You’re jealous.”
Hogg’s eyes finally left his engine as he let out a full belly laugh. “Yeah, you got .”
“Exactly,” Brin said with a nod. “I can still use light magic. But what can you do?”
“Everything you can do, but better,” said Hogg. He was still chuckling at the jealous comnt. “Please don’t make list all the ways I am not jealous of you. We’re both too busy.”
“How do you an? I thought my life has been going pretty well lately,” said Brin.
“The fact that you think that is most of the problem. You know, most people don’t have to deal with… no, never mind. Like I said, we’re both too busy,” said Hogg.
Brin didn’t really mind; school had been pretty fun so far and he didn’t actually want anyone to rain on his parade. “Honestly, the Circle of Illusions already knew about how good my illusions are from the Great Conduit, and I’d rather start learning at my actual level rather than pretend to be worse than I am for no reason. That reminds , though. I was thinking of inviting soone from the Circle of Illusions to Lumina’s thing in exchange for tutoring, but I just realized now that I already have an illusions tutor. Unless you’re too busy.”
“I’m not too busy.” Hogg flicked his model engine, and watched it spin for a mont. “It depends on what you’re interested in learning, I guess. I’d like to say I’m good at what I do, but I was mostly self-taught and the Tower is the Tower.”
“I want more ways to spy on the Tower. Right now, I lose my Invisible Eyes when I send them through every other doorway. Oh, and I’m interested in workarounds for the Eveladis,” said Brin.
Hogg stopped his engine in place, and split it open again. “I’ll help you with the first. Find soone in the Circle for the second. Oh, you know who you should ask? Your friend Wings. He’s actually Circle Master Valentin’s nephew, and he’s, well, he’s annoying. He thinks he’s a prodigy and honestly? Barely above average. Getting caught by you in the labyrinth was a huge blow to his ego, and having you figure out his real na will be another.”
“Do I need to do that myself, or…”
“Nunno Solorgio,” said Hogg.
“Heh. Thanks,” said Brin.
“Don’t ntion it.”
Brin placed the last large shard of the vase into place, and on a whim, used [Wyrdic Inspect].
Vase
Masterwork Quality. This vase was created with high-quality ceramics, and features a floral patter.
Broken.
There were still lots of smaller pieces he hadn’t connected yet, and doing them one by one was going to be a pain in the neck. He assigned them each to a directed thread and had them bounce around until they found their place. The threads could move their pieces quickly, but actually finding the right spots was slow going.
“We should try our luck with the Cobol estate again. I heard it’s basically empty right now,” said Brin.
“Is that so?” asked Hogg.
“Oh, co off it. I know you’re in the Shadow Pact,” said Brin.
“The shadow what? You think just because I’m a [Shadow Mage] I know about everything that has shadow in the na?” asked Hogg.
“I looked you up. Your file has obviously been grood.”
“Weird.”
“What cult are you in? Are you in Tenerer? I bet you would’ve told if it was Tenerer. You’re totally in Og’Zash, aren’t you? That’s why you’re so rich. You’re selling your blood.”
Hogg smiled and shook his head. “What in the world makes you think I would tell you?”
“I was hoping that you got stupid from having too many Split Minds going. You spilled that you’re in the Circle of Illusions without a fight,” said Brin.
Hogg shrugged.
“Co on. At least tell what’s going on with Cobol,” said Brin.
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“It’s what Lumina told Chaos over dinner the other day. They’re pulling everyone back to the duchy, and they haven’t disbanded their standing army from the war in Arcaena. All the evidence points to–”
“What kind of evidence?”
“If you’re looking for specific receipts that you can sell to the Shadow Pact, find them yourself. Bottom line is that everything points to a bid for the throne.”
“The Master doesn’t think there’s going to be a revolt,” said Brin.
“And Chaos didn’t beco the Master of Magic by being stupid. So what’s he know that we don’t?”
“He’s getting old. He was probably already ancient when Xander was a kid. But kids grow up, and so do kingdoms,” said Brin.
Hogg frowned for a mont, thinking. He shook his head. “Enough about that. Who else is on your list?”
Brin ran through a list of nas of upperclassn he’d had his eye on, and Hogg dismissed them one by one, and offered nas of his own. Apparently, his only correct decision had been Alnesh, so it was a good thing she was the only one he’d already invited. They chose one for Fire, another for Earth, and even soone for Air. Hogg even had so nas for Mind and Fate. Brin figured it would go without saying that they wouldn’t invite anyone from the Water track, but Hogg said differently.
“Sagramor Anunciada.”
“What could he offer us? I doubt I’ll get any tutoring on Water magic any ti soon, even if I had the elent for it,” said Brin.
“He’s a potential ally in the Circle of Water, which is rare enough. He’s from Blackcliff, so he doesn’t have much to fear from a revolt from Cobol. Even if it does co, they’re on opposite sides of the kingdom. We’re hoping he might let a few things slide. Nothing imdiate, mind you. For now we’re just making a connection. And I’ve got one more na for you. Princess Gracia.”
Brin’s eyes went wide. “If you say so.”
“Just keep in mind, royals are a different breed. Be respectful. She won’t find your cheeky insubordination charming,” said Hogg.
Brin nodded. “I’ll rember.”
He found that he’d done about as much as he could with the vase. There was still a bit of glass dust and sand left, pieces too small for his threads to do anything with. He pushed it into the vase wherever he could, and then used [Shape Glass] to even out any missing spots and finish off the polish. He thought it looked good as new, and [Inspect]. It showed him the sa as before, only with the [Broken] modifier removed. In the eyes of the System, it was good as new, and now worth several silvers.
“You headed out to the Tenerers?” Hogg asked.
“Yeah. I have so stuff for the Shadow Pact,” said Brin.
“They won’t like that,” said Hogg.
“What? Why not?”
“Well, they’re not the Cult of the Shadow Pact, are they? If you co in and act interested in sothing other than Tenerer, they’ll be disappointed,” said Hogg.
“I haven’t finished the books they gave yet, but I don’t think there’s a deadline,” said Brin.
“Look, the purpose of the Cult of Tenerer is to preserve the knowledge of old Nhamanshal. Keep that in mind and you’ll do just fine,” said Hogg.
Tonin arrived, carrying a tray with a sandwich and a bowl of fruit, and Brin was glad to see it. He ate the fruit, thanked Hogg, and then grabbed the sandwich to eat on the way.
“Oh, and send Bedelia in when you see her,” said Hogg.
“Sure,” said Brin. Hogg probably wanted Brin to ask why he didn’t just summon her himself. They shared a brain, after all. But he wouldn’t ask that. Because Hogg probably wanted him to ask that so he could brag about his masterful sches. Hogg didn’t show any sign of disappointnt, though, and kept his eyes fixed on his spell.
Brin went to the front hall and placed the vase back on the shelf. Several mbers of the house staff had gathered in the room, waiting with an extrely worried-looking Bedelia. The housekeeper swept forward to see it, using a feather brush to clean away so non-existent dust.
“Oh, you’re a true miracle maker, Master Mistaken. It looks as good as new!”
“Do you think maybe Hogg will forget this ever happened?” asked Bedelia. Her eyes were darkened from worry, and she still had those scrapes she’d given herself.
“He told he wants to talk with you,” said Brin.
That shut off a lot of the smiles from the house-staff, and also shut off Brin’s chance of an easy escape. They suddenly all had questions for him about how Hogg had looked, and if maybe Brin might argue on Bedelia’s behalf, and if the Shadow Realm was really as terrible as Bedelia claid. They didn’t outright ask any of these questions, but they crowded around and made hints until Brin was forced to stand there holding his sandwich and try to reassure them.
There was a crash, and the door flew open. Bedelia tumbled across the ground, head over heels at breakneck speed. One enterprising [Footman] jumped into her path to try to slow her path, but he only acted as a speed bump, pushing her into the air.
She landed straight on the sa vase shattering it against the wall.
The whole room went silent, staring at Bedelia who was laying across a pile of newly re-shattered ceramic. She was wearing a pair of ice skates.
Brin sighed and handed his sandwich to Tonin. He bent down and pulled a big chunk of ceramic away from where it had punctured Bedelia’s neck. She put a hand over the wound, which gushed black blood over her fingers, falling down her dress until finally it dissolved into shadowy smoke. Cool. That smoke effect was new. How in the world was he doing that with hard light?
“H-h-he t-told …”
“I know,” said Brin.
“...that I was skating on thin ice,” said Bedelia. “So I…”
“I get it,” said Brin.
That’s how he ended up traveling back to Tim's house in a carriage with Tonin across from him and the pieces of the shattered vase hanging between them. He finally got a chance to eat the sandwich though. Chicken with a green sauce, and incredibly tasty.
“I don’t often find occasion to question my employer,” said Tonin.
“Wise,” said Brin.
“But if there were so greater sche at foot here, one which might explain the rather unusual outbursts of one of my fellow servants…”
“I think the main take away here is that Hogg doesn’t really like this vase,” said Brin. He closed his fist and pulled all the ceramic together into a ball, and let it fall to the floor with a thunk.
“As you say, my lord,” said Tonin.
He spent the carriage ride reading through Tenerer’s biography. He had a few threads skim and outline major plot points of the entire book while using the bulk of his concentration to physically read the first chapter.
He was fairly shocked at the state of technology from when Tenerer was young, because it was even worse than now in Brin’s ti. While there had indeed been great marvels of science and magic done by individual high-level sorcerers, the regular person may as well have been living in the bronze age. No one had been able to work with iron unless they had a Class for it, one which was carefully passed down from master to apprentice through the use of the [Child] Class. In Brin’s day, they could make steel even without the [Smith] Class, though of course [Smiths] were much better at it.
Tenerer had started his life seeking knowledge of the Language alone, but Brin already knew how it ended. His inventions had enabled a highly technological and advanced society. There was a ti where Frenaria, Prinnash, Olland, and Theranor, as well as the Wastes to the south were all one nation. A giant empire that must’ve felt smaller due to the ease of travel. They’d had air travel. Highways. Radio and dia.
Brin suddenly imagined his old world splayed over what he’d seen of this one. He imagined getting in a car and driving from Hammon’s Bog to Oud’s Bog in one afternoon. He’d drive through and get a burger and fries for lunch on the way. He’d stop once at a gas station–only they didn’t power their cars with gas in Nhamanshal. He’d stop wherever they stopped to power their cars and grab a soda and a candy bar. Another hour of driving, and then he’d be there, not even enough ti to be hungry for dinner.
He wasn’t prepared for the sudden, painful surge of longing he felt and had to bite his lip to keep from breaking down in the carriage like a lunatic. He wanted to go through his [mories in Glass] again, to spend a mont reliving what it had been like to be part of a real civilization. How long had it been since he’d really thought about Earth? But no, now was not the ti.
When he got to Tim’s house, he was directed right up to the top floor and found that several other cult mbers were there as well. So of them were in proud, buttoned-up coats and tricorns like him, but others wore the rugged grays of regular laborers.
They all bowed and called him “Your Lordship” when he entered, and he didn’t need any prompting to set that right. “No, no, please, I don’t need any of that now. When I’m in here, I’m just Brin.”
He shook their hands, one by one, asking about their work and their lives. They were a very broad mix of classes and occupations across the city. They had a [Lawyer], a [Physician], and even a [Collier]. He made sure to tell that one about Zilly’s dad and ask if he could also make flaming fireballs that would devastate undead. He couldn’t, but seed intrigued by the idea.
None of the n were associated with the Tower, though Tim ntioned that there was one other [Mage] in the cult. None of them were close to his age, either; they seed mostly in their forties and above. He also found it kind of funny that there were no won in the group. Was joining a cult just sothing that middle-aged n did?
After introductions, Tim said, “Brin, you should help us decide sothing. If you could have any technology from ancient Nhamanshal, and assu that it would be in working order, what would you pick? Maurice would choose a Cantoby.”
The [Collier] nad Maurice nodded. “It’s the obvious choice, isn’t it? With a Cantoby, I could make any of the other ancient artifacts work the way they did. I could control the weather, summon food out of the air, or even make coal if that’s what I wanted. I’d never have to work a day again in my life!”
Tim nodded. “I was thinking about the roads. If our nation had the ease of travel that Nhamanshal did–”
“What good are roads without cars? We’d be better off with one of their ships,” interrupted another cultist.
“What would you bring back, if you could?” Tim asked Brin.
Brin thought for a mont before answering. “Standardization.”
Tim grinned and looked between so of his cultists before asking, “How do you an?”
Brin got the impression he needed to be careful with his words right now, so he thought about his reading of the condition of the world during Tenerer’s youth. Wasn’t that a whole lot like today? “There isn’t any one single thing that Nhamanshal had that we don’t. We have cars and roads. Ships. I’d bet there are one or two flying machines up in the Tower sowhere. There are great inventors that make incredible things. But in Nhamanshal, everyone had these things. Regular people owned cars and if you bought one in one city, you could get a shop in an entirely different city to repair it for you. You can’t do that when Skills are driving your machines. Standardization is an idea I got from the Tower. They talked about it in my enchanting class.
“Steamshield has plenty of factories that could be making extrely high-quality goods, only they can’t mass produce anything more complicated than a broom. They can’t make a common market for machines and such because they don’t know if their custors will have the right Skills or access to the correct reagents or what have you. Everyone is coming up with their own solutions and none of it works together. There should be one way for turning magic into so kind of stored energy, one way of turning that energy into light, one way of turning into heat, and one way to make it into motion. Then everyone can operate every different kind of machine they sell in stores and you won’t have to buy everything custom or worry about if your particular Skills are adapted to it.
"And for that matter, why can’t there be standard asurents? Did you know hat-sellers use one kind of inches and scarf-makers use a different one? It’s true, and it isn’t simple to convert between the two, either. And shoe-makers each use their own size scales and they all pretend like I should know what they’re talking about when they say size eleven. Elf and Sons finally figured out mass-production but they don’t even have a standard size in the sa store. It’s diabolical!”
Brin realized he was ranting and took a deep breath. “Anyways, that’s my answer. The best practice that would help the largest amount of people. Standardization.”
The entire room went silent for a mont. It was so sudden that Brin thought he’d said sothing wrong, until one by one, all of the n nodded as if agreeing to sothing.
Tim nodded last. “In Tenerer’s eyes, you are already a full mber of his cult. And now, you are accepted in our eyes as well.”
“Standardization was the right answer, huh?” Brin said with a nervous chuckle.
Tim remained solemn. “There is no one answer. What we accept is your intentions. Had you spoken of recovering ancient technology for personal gain, I would’ve told you that you need more ti. Instead, you spoke of uplifting the lives of all mankind. You seek what we seek. To bring back what was lost.”
“To bring back what was lost,” the cultists echoed.
“There once was a dream that was Nhamanshal,” said Tim.
“There was a dream,” the cultists echoed.
“That dream will live again.”
“The dream will live again.”
“I asked you to consider the goals of the cult. Now I’ll tell you plainly. Our purpose is to preserve the knowledge of Tenerer and Nhamanshal. Brin isu Yambul, will you seek out and protect the knowledge of the ancients?”
“I will,” said Brin.
Tim nodded. “Normally, at this point I would ask you to swear a System Oath to keep our secrets. After careful consideration and communion with our patron, I don’t believe that he will require this at your hands.”
That statent brought a few murmurs and looks of worry from the other cultists.
“Please understand that what I’m about to tell you is our most dearly-guarded secret,” said Tim.
Brin nodded. “I understand.”
“We have succeeded, thus far, in our mission. We know how it all works. The Cantobies. The flying machines. The cars and ships. The golems. Even the weapons. We rember Nhamanshal, and we can operate all of her technology.”
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