Tea & Sympathy
On Triumdies, Marweg answered his door to find a seraph chauffeur and its awaiting rickshaw. As a Goetic, he felt a degree of familiarity in being served by summoned beings, but it felt uncanny not to have been involved in the preceding negotiations and colloquy. The seat was comfortable, even luxurious, and the commotion of Satyrine withdrew to a susurrus as Marweg sat, engrossed by the transport and its porter. He only snapped to attention when they slowed to enter the Confederacy of Cloisters. They followed a cultic parade down a few streets flanked by minor temples before turning onto a residential lane and stopping. The angel brought Marweg up to the door—and evaporated.
The thoughtform that opened the door took Marweg’s coat and hat and ushered him into a sitting room to wait. His nerves got the best of him, and his eyes darted around the room in search of a distraction. Something was off. He abruptly stood and strode across the room to a handsome table that held a large vase. Touching the vase, he realized an entity was bound within it. The same was true of the corner lamp. Marweg tried to do the mental calculations and couldn’t figure how Gertrude was capable of, much less authorized for, maintaining these bound entities in addition to the porter and anything else she would need to summon in the course of her duties. A question, or possibly a concern, for later, he thought. He straightened hurriedly, arranging his coat to proper decorum, when the door opened behind him.
“It is a fine piece, is it not?” Gertrude asked, her lips curled in a tight smile. Bees darted around her grey hair, which was pulled up tightly to provide access to her honeycombed skull. She maintained a rigid formality even in her own home as she guided Marweg to the dining room. Marweg tried to imitate her deliberate, regal movements, but his body missed the memo. He bumped the side table, caught the vase before it could fall, watched a crystal ornament fall off and tried to catch that, failed, nearly lost the vase again, and witnessed the closest chair bending its leg to cushion the ornament’s fall.
“Perhaps a lesson in perambulation first?” Gertrude’s tone was stern, but her eyes twinkled.
Mortified, Marweg picked up the ornament and replaced it carefully. He took a deep breath and carefully picked his way across the tiled floor.
In the dining room, two demonic entities dressed in livery waited beside the table. Each held out a chair for them to sit, and then one poured tea while the other disappeared briefly and returned with a plate of scones and a platter of butter and jam. They then retreated to the corners of the room and waited.
Gertrude sipped her tea, and the lines of her face relaxed in approval. Marweg followed suit and was delighted by its excellence. He remarked as much to Gertrude.
“Simplicity can only be appreciated in perfection,” she replied. She watched his eyes flit between the two servants and the waiting room and nodded at his unspoken question. “Yes, I keep a full house. A vanity—one that you, perhaps, may indulge in if you keep with your studies. But tell me of your menagerie. How fares your collection?”
Marweg’s eyes grew wistful. “I nearly had a chance to add something remarkable to it. But the chance was taken before I could act on it. Have you heard of the pushmi-pullyu?”
“I believe I’ve seen them summoned once or twice.” Her hedged response served as an inducement, and Marweg immediately regaled her with the tale of its discovery and subsequent loss. After several failed attempts at subtly bending the conversation towards another subject, Gertrude offered Marweg a scone and interjected.
“You mentioned an apostate with no prior affiliation with an order, a woman named Winstead?” she said, putting the plate back on the silver tray.
“What about her?” Marweg asked.
“How do you feel about her? She sounds like she would make an excellent Goetic. Recruitment is rare but, when successful, does wonders for your reputation in the order.”
“Why me?” He took a bite and chewed as thoughtfully as he could to hide his embarrassment.
“It is a waste of your talents to remain an initiate. I strongly urge you to find an advisor for advancing to Mysterion. But it is often helpful, when learning yourself, to simultaneously teach, and Winstead seems an opportune acolyte.” She looked as if the matter were already settled. “I will refer some members in good standing to you. Surely one will be suited to improving your abilities, just as you’ll be elated to improve them.”
Marweg attempted to hedge. “I’m not sure I can begin immediately, I’m afraid. I have a prior venture that needs seeing to first.”
“Have you somehow been tasked by an Ultima Mysterion? Members of our highest degree would not be seen tasking initiates with minutiae,” she scoffed.
“I, along with a few others, including Winstead, have been compelled by the minister of public works, Aug Fullan, to cleanse the hate cyst in Gatesmithe.”
Gertrude set down her cup and saucer abruptly. “Explain. Please.”
“We have something of a plan but will need some materials from Nightside Green. It should hopefully only take a week or two, but I’ll admit this is all very new to me and I don’t know how accurate our estimates are…” Marweg trailed off as his host’s face flushed a deep red. She slammed a hand down forcefully on the table, clattering the crockery.
“She has absolutely no right!” Gertrude seethed. “To lay a geas on a Goetic, without so much as a consultation? It’s impudence of the highest degree! And to not even give notice…” She took a moment to lower her voice, but her face remained flushed. “I do not believe we will have an intervention in time to adjust your task, but be sure that I will have words with her soon. The Order Goetica will ensure the ministries are held to account for their arrogation.”
Marweg swallowed. “Indeed. We might do well to have some assistance, if you would be willing to provide it,” he ventured nervously.
“Yes. You may well need all the help you can get.” She thought deeply, then looked up. “I will show you a secret.”
“A secret?” Marweg leaned forward.
“It can be an easy thing to accomplish a task in front of you if you know the trick of it.” In a few short words she imparted an understanding to Marweg that made his eyes widen.
“I never knew it could be so simple,” he breathed.††
“Few do,” she replied wryly. “That’s why it’s a secret. Though you may teach this one to your fellow travelers. In the meantime, I’ll also provide you with means to access the relevant records at the hall before you depart.”
Marweg thanked her and poured himself another cup of tea. “There was one other question I wished to ask.”
“Hmm?”
“The Stamwhence Parade has a breached contract signed by a goetic named Asclepius. Do you know of him?”
Gertrude’s face tightened again. “I knew him until the end of that name. Damnatio memoriae.”
Marweg’s face fell. “He’s dead?”
“That’s not our concern. His name and title were stripped from him, and he was expelled from the order.” Gertrude spoke dispassionately, but her knuckles paled as she took brought her teacup back to her lips.
“That’s horrible,” he said.
“It’s the most severe punishment the order has to levy against its members.”
“What merited such a response?”
“He was condemned for the enslavement of fellow Goetics. As I’m sure you’re aware, such behavior cannot be tolerated or the order will collapse, eating itself alive through struggle for supremacy. We find those impulses best directed outward.”
“Indeed.” Marweg shuddered and remembered the furnishings. “That would certainly render the contract void and explain the breach. But it puts the parade hopelessly in arrears. Is there anything you suggest?”
Gertrude sat up thoughtfully, then rose. Marweg tried to follow suit, but she forestalled him with a wave. “One moment,” she said, and stepped out.
He took the opportunity to finish his scone and tea. She returned a minute later with a folio embossed with the seal of the Ultima Mysterions, which she placed on the table in front of him.
“Here is a copy of the expulsion order. It must remain with me of course, but if anyone wishes to debate the validity of the contract, this should prove sufficient to convince them of the parade’s argument.” Another thought struck her, and she added, “Though I’ve not seen Asclepius since, and I know he’s not in Indigo, I have a potential connection through a node in the Noösphere maintained by an apostate named Aberinkula.”
“Where has Asclepius gone? And what does Aberinkula have to do with all this?” Marweg asked, unsure of the change in direction.
“I think it best that I not be the one to pull that thread,” she replied. “But it may be that Aberinkula is who Asclepius was.”
†† Expansive Endeavor; Marweg then teaches the others.