The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere

Empyrean Bastion, Outer Districts | 3:41 PM | First Day

Another street with a similar appearance. I felt like you could go mad, living in a place like this.

"It is... odd, that they want us to meet them so far out of the way," Mehit said, sounding a little fatigued. "Even considering the circumstances, I'm not sure why they couldn't have collected us at the Aetherbridge. It is all very irregular, for such a prestigious organization."

"One would presume they're worried about us being followed," Kam said. "It does seem a little much, but for whatever reason, the Order doesn't seem to want to leave anything about the security of this affair to chance." She furrowed her brow. "...well, either that, or this is some kind of hazing."

Mehit smiled at the joke, but it was joyless, rigid with worry and apprehension. "To be completely frank, I don't even truly understand why they are so concerned about keeping their sanctuary's location outside of public knowledge, now that they're no longer a secret organization. It seems rather..." She paused for a moment, seeming to search for the right word. "...archaic."

Backwards. That was the word she had wanted to say.

"There was someone from the conference this morning who had the same outlook, I think," I said. "He called the Order a, uh..."

"Cult-like fringe organization," Ran reminded me.

"Yeah," I said. "That."

Mehit's expression hardened a bit. "I wouldn't have gone that far, of course."

"Frankly, it's not a completely unfair sentiment," Kam said. "I was skeptical when I first received our travel instructions. That being said..." She pursed her lips. "I expect we'd all be surprised if we knew just how many conclaves of arcanists were still hoarding their knowledge tightly behind closed doors like this, despite modern scholarship having changed as it has. It's anecdotal, but this sort of affair is sordidly common in the Order of Chronomancers, too."

Mehit frowned. "I do not intend to disrespect our hosts, but it just does not make sense to me why people would do such a thing. Of course it would be understandable when the ban was in place, but now that it is lifted, is it not to the benefit of everyone that the knowledge be shared openly?"

"Oh, after a fashion, perhaps," Kam said. "Idealistically."

"It does... seem a little selfish...?" Ophelia said. "If that really is their motivation for all this. Just to keep their remaining discoveries hidden, rather than sharing them with the rest of the world."

I was surprised at this interjection. It was uncommon for Ophelia to actually express an opinion on anything. Usually she would just smile in her standard saintly way and either keep quiet, or say something like 'oh, it's not my place to judge.' She was the type of person who seemed to think it was impolite to have a personality.

Kam didn't seem affected by this departure from character, though. Instead, she chuckled at the remark. "Well, if they didn't, their discoveries could be appropriated by other scholars, or for causes they did not agree with, denying them prestige and wealth. One can't expect people to be motivated by pure selflessness."

"Isn't it something of a betrayal of their original ideals, though?" Ophelia said. "To share knowledge that benefits mankind openly, even when the whole world wants to keep it suppressed?"

"Perhaps in some sense," Kamrusepa said, shrugging. "But ideals are aspirational, not literal. Everyone betrays them a little bit for the sake of their own needs. And it's a good thing, too-- If they didn't, society wouldn't work, because no one would be willing to sit down and compromise for the sake of their own comfort when push came to shove."

"Umm... I suppose that's true..."

Despite saying that, she didn't sound completely convinced. But Ophelia wasn't the kind of person who would stand in Kam's path when she went into Lecture Mode.

"In fact, one could argue that self-interest is more important than any ideal, and what pushes innovation the most," Kam continued. "On an essential level, man is a competitive animal, evolved for survival of the fittest. Envy, ambition, rivalry - these are the sort of things that have precipitated most advances in history. That which serves the ego also ultimately serves progress by proxy."

I frowned. Something about this idea and the way she was phrasing it was rubbing me the wrong way, though I couldn't pin down why it was in that split-second. It was like I'd heard those words, or some variation of the concepts behind them, countless times before. Beaten into my psyche over time like dirt into an old carpet.

Then, in that moment of weakness, a sudden impulse manifested within my cognitive functions, leaping from the shadows like a highwayman intercepting his quarry.

Hello! It said. Greetings from the amygdala. I'm the part of your brain that inexplicably believes that starting political arguments is ever a good idea. I'm going to seize control of your motor functions now.

What? I thought, horrified. No, fuck off!

Come ooonnn, it said. It'll be great. You'll win and impress everyone with how smart you are!

No! Not with Kam. Especially not in front of a stranger in the middle of a street!

I bit my tongue, hard.

Fine, it said. You win, but make no mistake. Next time, you won't have the will left to resist.

My face contorted in discomfort. Ophelia glanced at me with an expression of concern.

"So!" Kamrusepa continued, after the moment of silence. "Since we have some time, why don't we talk about our presentations?" She turned towards me. "Tell me about your presentation, Su."

I turned to her, my brow furrowed. "How come I'm being singled out?"

"Well, we have to start somewhere," she said, with as shrug.

"Why not start with yourself?" Ran asked, coming to my defense.

"Because I want to size up the competition, obviously," Kamrusepa said matter-of-factly. It was difficult to tell if she was joking or not. "Come now, Ran. Try to follow the subtext."

She rolled her eyes.

I sighed to myself. My feet were really starting to hurt. "If you're worried out me stealing your spotlight, you don't need to be. I'm not planning on anything exciting," I said. "I'm just going to rehash my winter project, with a few refinements."

"Ah!" She nodded. "You mean the nagan-- Er, nugen--"

"Negenthropic-Resuscitating Arcana," I said.

"Yes, that," she said. "I still you ought to have picked a catchier name."

"It describes the function properly, which is what's important," I said, adjusting my spectacles. "It's an approach to resuscitation that functions through entropic reversal rather than Biomancy or straightforward Thanatomancy. 'Negentropy' is the opposite of entropy."

"That may be so," she said, crossing her arms, "but you must confess it doesn't exactly roll off the tongue."

"It's not like I'm trying to sell it."

"Not with that attitude, you're not."

"Uh, 'scuse me for interjecting," Ptolema said, "but didn't you have problems getting that to work, Su? I remember the demonstration going a bit weird."

I flattened my gaze. "You mean when I brought the pigeon back to life, and then it pecked madly at the ground for 15 seconds without making a sound, and then fell over and died again," I said, not phrasing it as a question. I was sure everyone here, and possibly in the entire academy, remembered the event quite comprehensively, judging by the expressions of pronounced horror they had worn at the time.

"Y-Yeah," she said. "When that happened."

"The incantation is still a work in progress," I said. "The principle is sound, though. The systems in the body of the recently dead are still ordered. If properly infused with energy, they're primed to fall back in line with far less damaging intervention than is currently practiced."

"Chronomancy excepted," Kamrusepa said, smugly.

"Chronomancy excepted," I repeated, with a small nod. "But that's only good for a half minute at the absolute limit. In principle, this could revive people dead for as long as 5, maybe even 10 minutes."

"In principle, perhaps," Kamrusepa said. "Have you solved many of the problems, then?"

"A few," I said, a little hesitance creeping into my tone. "It's not perfect. But it'll be fine for a short demonstration like this."

"You're banking on them being impressed by the high concept, if the execution of that concept still leaves something to be desired?"

"Well... yeah, I suppose," I said. I could tell that she was about to say something smug. I'd developed a Kam-sense over the past 2 years.

She tutted. "Bad idea," she said. "Always better to deliver something simple with confidence than something complex with hesitation. That's the first rule of impressing people and making connections."

"They're renowed scholars," I said, "I'm not sure how well those kind of job interview tactics will work on them."

Kamrusepa giggled at this assertion.

"What are you planning to do for yours, then?" I said. A little annoyance slipped into my tone. "Since you're happy to put mine down."

"Oh, come on, Su. Don't take me so seriously." She shook her head, then turned to face forward as she spoke. "I'm planning on demonstrating an artifice I've been working on intermittently for the past year. It's for triage, essentially - the aim of the device is to place the body in a state of short-term total suspended animation until help can arrive."

I furrowed my brow. "Aren't there artifices that do that already?"

"Some do it situationally, but there aren't any that incorporate all the techniques into a single, portable device that's easy to use," Kam said, sounding increasingly like she, on the other hand, was trying to sell something. "Saving a few moments after a potentially fatal injury could be the difference between life and death. It would be expensive, naturally, but I think demand could easily be found within the elite market."

I snorted. "Of course."

"'Of course'?" She frowned objectionably. "What is that supposed to mean, pray tell?"

"I mean, of course you're making something aimed at rich people," I said. Careful. This is veering into political argument territory after all.

"Dear me, Su. I thought we were above these kind of snipes at this stage of our friendship," she said, holding her hand to her chest in faux-offense. "And you know better than to indulge in that sort of cheap point-scoring. The forefront of innovation is always reserved for the privileged, but it inevitably reaches the less fortunate with time. That's the nature of progress."

"That's what people say," I said. "But in practice, all that does is orient innovation to favor the problems of the very well-off, with the assumption that those same problems are or should be the priorities of everyone. It leads to absurd outcomes, like the fact we still don't have a way to treat complex cellular degeneration without the infrastructure of a city. So thousands of people in the country drop dead before their time every year."

"Goodness. You certainly have your talking points memorized." She laughed to herself again, though this time it was lower, closer to a chuckle. "I don't seem to recall you rejecting the cutting-edge when you broke your leg last year, and wanted a perfect fix right away."

I frowned. "That's different."

She smirked. "Different because it happened to you, rather than an abstract 'elite'?"

"You've pivoted to an ad hominen argument," I said, narrowing my eyes.

She made an insufferable little self-satisifed hum, then turned her head to face another part of our group. "What about you, Ptolema?" She said. "I'm sure you have something interesting prepared."

The girl flinched a bit, seeming uncomfortable at being singled out. "Uh, well, actually--"

"That's it," Ran said, interrupting.

Ptolema hesitated, sounding disoriented from the disruption of her train of thought. "Uh, what?"

"There," she said, pointing ahead. "We're here."

At some point, we'd passed into another street, this one narrower than the previous and completely barren, without another soul in sight. There, at the far corner, I could see a large, black carriage. Unlike those on the surface, it had no horse - with the difference in gravity, you could get by with just a pneumatic motor. (Well, in this day and age, you could probably get by anywhere with one, but private carriages as a concept were rapidly being killed off by small-scale transpositioning anyway, and there wasn't much point changing the curtains on a sinking ship.) Outside of it, a figure who looked like a man, donned in black robes, was standing by the door, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Ah," Kam said, seeming to instantly forget the previous exchange. "Finally!"

"This is what we're looking for?" Mehit asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Indeed." She nodded. "They gave us a description of what to expect. Though I was expecting two-- This might be a bit of a tight fit..."

"I'm sort of surprised they allow carriages here at all, considering how narrow the streets are," I said.

"You need a special permit," Ran informed me. "I guess they must have one."

We approached the carriage and the man, who looked up at our approach. He was slightly muscled, about six foot, and unusually, I couldn't make out his face at all. Even behind a veil, you could usually get a vague idea of the shape and structure, but his was thick. A wall of black cloth, impenetrable.

"Good day!" Kam said, her tone friendly.

"Good afternoon," the man said respectfully. His voice was deep.

"Ah, there's a phrase I'm supposed to say, isn't there-- Bugger, where is it..." She fussed with the instruction papers, flipping them over a couple of pages, before finally clearing her throat. "Pardon. 'I represent the novitiates. I come to you with my sword aloft, against mankind's final enemy.'"

"Fucking on the nose, huh," Ran mumbled to herself.

The man nodded, satisfied. "And I represent the masters, to guide your sword to our enemy's throat." He held out a hand. "Thank you for coming. Please, place your bags in the rear so that we might depart."

Ptolema peered at the boot of the carriage skeptically. "Is there gonna be room in that thing...?"

"Not to worry," the man said. His voice also had a naturally calming, gentle quality. "There is an enchantment present for compressed space. It should have no trouble bearing the load."

Mehit frowned. "Isn't that dangerous, for human beings?"

"Ah, forgive me, I should have been clearer," the man said. "I mean to say that the storage compartment is enchanted, not the interior proper. The seating is perfectly safe, I assure you."

The woman frowned, hesitant. "...very well, I suppose. Come along, Lili, let's get your bags inside..."

Slowly, we begun the process of loading our luggage into the boot, although some of us kept our shoulder bags, and Ophelia retained her dubious 'trunk' with the airholes on hand. After I was done, I looked at the carriage itself in closer detail while waiting for the others to finish. The material was painted metal - it looked like titanium, rather than bronze - and thick, the kind of thing you'd see on carriages for transporting valuables or important people. In addition, the windows were completely covered by black fabric. At first, I'd mistaken them for curtains, but now I could see that they were pinned in place on the exterior, tight enough to not let a speck of light inside.

"These sheets," I said to the man. "They're so that we can't see where we're going?"

"That is correct," he said in a regretful but accommodatingly calm voice, giving the indication that he'd expected the question. "The masters have asked me to pass along their apologies for if this should it cause you discomfort. Not all members of your party have fully earned their trust, as of yet." I couldn't see his expression, but the tone of his voice suggested he shifted to a smile. "Though of course you are not the target of such caution, miss."

I frowned. "You know who I am...?"

He nodded. "I am briefed on all guests to the conclave, yes."

"We're going to have to sit in the dark?" Mehit asked, having overheard the conversation. She sounded anxious.

The man shook his head. "Not to worry, madam. The interior is well lit. See for yourself."

He reached to the side and opened the door, displaying the interior. The seating was cushioned, and a gas lamp was firmly attached to the ceiling. It was, indeed, well-lit.

This didn't seem to do as much to ease Mehit's agitation as he had hoped. "How long is this trip to take?"

"I expect it will be around 20 minutes," he said. "I apologize deeply for the inconvenience."

"And you won't tell us what our destination is...?"

"I will transport you to the entrance to the sanctuary, which is within this structure," he said. "But I'm afraid that is all I can say, other than that the trip will be quite safe. If you wish to know more of the route, you would have to inquire with one of the masters."

She frowned. "I'm not sure about all this. This whole business-- Rather, it's all starting to feel a little..." She hesitated, rubbing her brow. "Forgive me. I am only here for the sake of my daughter's future. It is not my place to speak."

"Take heart, madam," the man said, reassuringly. "Should all go well, then I'm sure that, in the future, such measures won't be required."

"Yes, well." She took a stiff breath. "I hope so."

"If it makes you feel any better, Mehit, you're traveling with more trained arcanists than the average military cohort," Kam said. "Even if they were to somehow deposit us into the empyrean itself, I should expect we'd manage to survive the experience."

"Yeah, don't worry!" Ptolema said, with an encouraging smile. "I could even put some wards on you, if it'd help. We've all got each other's backs here, right?"

"I am very thankful for the offer, but there is no need," Mehit said, not sounding especially reassured. "If I am worried, than it is more for the sake of my daughter than for myself. She's never done well with cramped, closed-off spaces--"

"I'm fine," Lilith said, her words characteristically loud and sharp. "Mother. I have not been claustrophobic in years."

"Sweetheart..."

"Lilith's a, ah, strong girl, ma'am..." Ophelia said, her tone warm. "I'm sure you don't need to worry. We're all here..."

"Yes," the woman said, and nodded stiffly. "Yes, of course. Come along, then, dear," she said, putting her hand on the girls shoulder. "Let's get inside."

We finished packing up our bags and climbed into the large carriage. Even considering the size, it was a pretty tight fit for the eight of us. The last person to board was Ran, who seemed preoccupied, staring at something in the distance.

"Uh, Ran?" I said, as I climbed in. "Everything alright?"

She blinked, then rubbed her eyes. "Yeah. Sorry." She moved to follow.

"What were you looking at?" I asked.

"The Sibyl's College." She pointed at the structure, far in the distance, built on a section of elevated terrain at the back end of bastion. It was a truly ancient looking building, a thing of angular stone and a sharp, V-shaped rooftop. "Just thinking about something, that's all."

We all crammed in together. Ran always sat next to me, so I ended up alongside her again, though this time, I was also next to Ophelia and her dubious box, which sat in her lap. She held a small smile on her face, a few blonde locks having come loose and hanging down along her jaw. Opposite me, Lilith was cramped up tightly alongside her beleaguered mother, her gaze still distantly fixed on the surface of the logic engine.

We heard the sound of the man take his seat at the front. For a moment I was worried he was going to lock the doors, which would probably send the older woman into a panic attack, but he didn't. Instead, I heard the sound of a lever being pulled, and the wheels starting to spin.

And then we were moving - the second and final of the two trips we would be taking that afternoon.