The Geas of Aug Fullan
“It’s not a regular hosting today, you understand, but a commission. M. Broche is a significant donor to the Church of Illuminism, and we must not disappoint. The celebration today should be official enough to placate him but with stakes low enough to not require seniority. You’ll do fine. Still.” Cedric paused. “Err on the side of being more formal than you think you need.” Cedric looked at Ward carefully.
Ward nodded nervously. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for the spirit’s visit.‡
It didn’t take long. M. Broche arrived with a small comment, “Oh dear, this won’t do at all! Is this what I’m wearing? I’m not going out to a party in this!”
Ward gave Cedric a small smile. “I guess I need to stop by home and change first.”
“You certainly do,” Ward’s mouth said in reply.
Cedric gave a better-you-than-me grin and led them out.
“I do believe,” said M. Broche acerbically half an hour later, “that your wardrobe is in dire need of an update.”
Nearly every piece of Ward’s clothing was out for inspection. Half of it had been dismissed out of hand, and the other half was now being viewed with increasing despair.
“Look, I realize it’s not exactly up to your standards, but this is everything I’ve got,” Ward said timidly.
M. Broche sighed. “Given the selection, this outfit will have to suffice. But I insist we detour for a brooch before the ceremony.”
Rhea’s outfits largely consisted of what fit in her backpack or on her person, but she took pride in the versatility of the garments she chose to keep. Tonight’s transformed a peasant dress, drawstrings loose, with the raglan sleeves pulled off the shoulders and tied around to form a shawl, accented with minimalist jewelry. She left the apartment’s makeshift powder room and caught up with Ward as he exited. He wore a brushed coat and waistcoat and polished dark brown shoes and carried his cane. Ward had cleaned up nicely, although Rhea knew the cane was less a classy accessory and more a security blanket every time he hosted a spirit.
Rhea gave him a studied look. This again. Who was it this time?‡
“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Rhea.”
He gave a small bow and flourish. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady. My name is M. Broche.” His face underwent a small change, and Ward said, “I’ve been commissioned to show him a good time at the festivities today. But I’m not sure where to start.” He’d barely finished saying so when his head cocked to one side and he added, “Apparently with a meal. He’s not experienced a good one in far too long.”
Rhea frowned. “I’ve never gone to a restaurant in the Marquis Quarter before; I’ve been too intimidated by the prices. We’ll have to make a stop at a bank if we’re going to eat there.”
Ward’s head shook dismissively. “My tab should still be open at the Magniloquent Moth. Money is no object,” replied M. Broche.
“I was planning on meeting with Marweg once we got there. Would you mind if he joined us?” Rhea asked.
“Of course not!” he replied with a broad smile. “A meal shared is twice the pleasure. Come, you’ve never experienced such delicacies in all your life!”
As M. Broche and Marweg relished their conversation, Ward allowed himself to relax. He couldn’t believe he could have room after the parade of prefixes and the crescendo of death cap pasta, but the pastry knot dessert with zested emotion leaf had ended the meal on a note of satiation. The Magniloquent Moth had been worth the difficulty getting there. Being unfamiliar with the Marquis Quarter, they had inadvertently stumbled through the only three blocks in which the zoning offices had de jure authority, and the microzoning required multiple transfers to get through the industrial, entertainment, commercial, and residential districts. Translucent figures of eremitic fish had seemed to pop in and out of reality at one of the bus stops, and when it started to rain M. Broche had scolded Ward sternly about his failure to bring an umbrella.
Vicarious enjoyment of Ward’s meal had settled M. Broche a great deal. His passive aggression had been tamed to a low-level casual condescension, which Ward suspected his guest used with everyone. As the meal approached its end, Ward looked up at Rhea at a break in the conversation. “Remind me, why are we going to this ceremony again?”
Rhea sighed. “Angela said it’s because of our aid in helping the parade get to safety. Something about an award for bravery or something like that.”
An award? Doing what? asked M. Broche.
I’ll fill you in on our way over, Ward replied before asking Rhea, “So everyone else from there is going to be with us? Winstead, the parade homeowners?”
Rhea shrugged. “I think so. No reason they shouldn’t be.” She looked at the nearest clock. “And we should look at going soon. We won’t want to keep them waiting.”
Ward looked down at his once-again empty plate. “Maybe there’s time for more dessert?”
The important thing is to embody security and order. Kithri stood tall and shining in her golden armor as the wash of people turned over the space between events. Her mirrored-visor helmet was strapped to her waist, allowing the breeze to play across her short-cropped, ash-blond hair. A sword, more ceremonial than functional, hung at her hip. It didn’t invite casual conversation, even though it hadn’t been unsheathed except to be cleaned before parade. As a Protector for the Pristine Guard of the Deathless Triumvirate, her responsibilities were emergency response and rescue; investigations and defense fell to the other two divisions.
She consulted her list of names. All in all, there were five different events in the Marquis Quarter today, none of them significant (or well-funded) enough to justify exclusivity. The minister had been very careful to ensure that this next award ceremony had a prominent timing. Early afternoon, after the lunch hour and before anyone could get really, really tired. The events co-renting the plaza had to make do with other, less desirable time slots.
She sighed. She would be little more than an ornament in this next event. Anything the minister did was treated with the utmost pomp and circumstance, even in private conversations. Her public speaking style didn’t come with an off switch.
Attendees had begun filling the area while the setup team was still at work. Behind the stage, the members of the Stamwhence Parade and their associates gathered.
An aide came up to her. “It’s time for the ceremony. The minister wants you there directly.”
Putting her helmet back on, Kithri secured the chin strap, lowered the visor, and followed the aide to the stage.
“. . . of our city falls into disgrace. We are plagued by the remnants of war, a state both sad and inexcusable. The dangers that lurk in the dark places must be removed, yet we have idled. In contrast to this sorry state, before you stand citizens of courage and sagacity, tenacious individuals who were unwilling to allow these horrors to continue. They stood and fought, and in doing so set an example for all of us in our efforts to restore Satyrine to its former beauty. Though duty came unexpectedly, they embraced the challenge and gained a victory. Through their effort Satyrine is better, stronger, and safer than before. For this we commend them . . .”
Whatever function the minister lost in her legs, Marweg decided, she more than makes up it for with stentorian oratory.* He stood with the paraders and other friends from the party. The vibrancy and gravitas that Spindlerieve’s slow swirls of ribbon added to his cape comforted him. He’d never been to this place for anything more than the pet exhibitions or competitions he dearly loved. The audience was much larger today than at such events.
Aug Fullan, minister of public works, spoke loudly and eloquently from a sedan chair borne by thought forms, gesturing expansively and with dignity as she regaled the crowd. Her words made Marweg burst with pride. He’d done this! He was being celebrated! The warm pink glow filled his mind and face with pleasure as she waxed poetic about that dreadful day.
“So, we now commission them to finish the great work they have begun. We expect great things from such distinguished citizens, whose valor in the face of danger and commitment to the safety, growth, and well-being of our city stand as a beacon of hope for us all!”
Aug Fullan’s sedan was carried to the other end of the line, where the parade heroes stood. An officer handed her a medallion, which she conferred on Carrie. She spoke a few words and then moved down the line, repeating the process.
Marweg puzzled over her speech in the back of his head as she approached him slowly. What had she said? A commission? No one had consulted him about doing more. Then suddenly she stood before him, and none of it mattered anymore.
“On behalf of the city of Satyrine, we thank you for your service.” Aug Fullan pinned a medallion and a flower on his jacket. Then, in a lower voice, she added, “Please remain behind after the ceremony; we must talk.”
Marweg gave a grateful smile and beamed at the audience. As Aug Fullan pinned the last medallion on Rhea, she raised her hand and presented the newly decorated citizens to the plaza. The square erupted into cheers.
Marweg glowed.
They’d been waiting backstage for nearly ten minutes. Ward looked radiant. Jeremiah and Marweg eagerly relived the moment together. But Rhea looked pensive as workers quickly tore down the stage to prepare for the next event.
“Where’s Mr. Whiskers?” she asked suddenly. “Didn’t he know this was happening?”
Jeremiah shrugged. “Honestly, I can’t explain what goes on in his head very well. He doesn’t always seem to agree with the rest of the world about what is important. I assumed he would be present.”
“Winstead, though? Why’s she missing?”
“She was getting settled into the parade. Annalise would’ve said something if she knew; they both live at Vici now. Come to think of it, she was looking a bit agitated when she arrived.”
“You don’t say . . .”
Ward frowned. “Wait a moment . . . why didn’t Angela and the others get flowers as well?”
“They didn’t?” asked Marweg, surprised.
Ward shook his head. “No, Angela was right next to me, and she didn’t get a flower. And she left already, so I guess she wasn’t told to stay behind, either. What’s all this about?”
“That will be explained momentarily,” said Kithri, sweeping into the room. She looked at them and then frowned at her clipboard. “May I please get your names?”
She checked them off her list as they introduced themselves and then asked, “Where are Winstead and Mr. Whiskers? This pertains to them as well.”
“We were just discussing that among ourselves, I’m afraid,” Jeremiah confessed. “However, I’m sure we can give them a message about whatever it is you wish to say.”
Kithri shook her head. “Not me, the minister. She’ll be here shortly.”
The words had barely left her mouth when the minister arrived. As the thought forms set her chair down, she looked over the four of them and then questioningly at Kithri.
Kithri walked to her and said quietly, “I’m sorry, Minister, the other two appear to be missing.”
“Then we must make the best of it,” the minister replied. She turned to the others and spread her hands, offering a politician’s smile. “My friends, this has been a day of great encouragement. The disgrace of the war-scarred regions of Satyrine has been a blight upon all of us for too long. We are all greatly pleased with the efforts you have made to ensure the safety and well-being of our city and to cleanse the black marks of history out of our landscape. Your role in securing the parade from harm has resulted in a great good for all of us, and it is my personal delight to thank you for your efforts.” She paused, as though expecting a crowd response. When none came, she continued.‡
“I hope you will not consider it too forward of me to praise you so highly, but it is no small thing that you have done. And that is why I have such confidence in your ability to see this task to its conclusion. I, as minister of public works, hereby commission you vislae to complete the endeavor of cleansing the Ruined Expanse. My associate Kithri will accompany you on your way, for the recording of your efforts and as an escort to see you to and from Gatesmithe safely. Together, we shall see Gatesmithe restored!”
At her satisfied nod, the sedan chair rose and the minister was carried out, leaving confusion and excitement in the room behind.
A fine meal, fine company, and a celebration on stage had done wonders for M. Broche’s temperament. His opinion of Ward had risen so highly that he had even ceased to be patronizing.
I have clearly judged a book by a cover that did not do justice to its subject. I must remember to refer you to a proverbial bookbinder! My sincerest apologies, for you must be a most excellent fellow to be commissioned and celebrated by the minister of public works. This has been a most wonderful day!
The glow of praise was so intense that Ward could almost forget his ongoing conversation with the others.
“They expect us to do what?!” Rhea asked Kithri.
“Continue the process of clearing the hazardous areas of Gatesmithe.”
“All of it?”
“You made a good start on it already.”
“That was the worst of bad luck combined with extreme subsequent good fortune.”
“You still did it.”
“Well, I did a little of it, anyways . . . but I think I may have been coerced,” Marweg mumbled.
“All I’m saying is that it not only could have been worse, but next time it likely will be if we run into anything remotely similar,” Rhea said.
“It can’t all be that bad there, can it?” asked Ward.
“No, some of it’s worse.”
Marweg continued in a background mutter, “It’s not like I asked to be a part of that. I still don’t know how I ended up at the front with everyone else . . .”
“How long are we expected to take? This isn’t the work of an afternoon now, is it?” inquired Jeremiah.
“There’s no start time or details on how you must go about it,” Kithri replied. “There is only the expectation that you continue the work you began.”
“Well that’s a relief at least. Death can be postponed.” Rhea snorted.
“It’s not all death and gloom. We did win last time, didn’t we?” said Ward.
“Do you expect to wake up the houses to deal with all our problems the next time we meet something? Because I suspect that if we did that, the Stamwhence stewards would sue us for property damage,” Rhea retorted. Jeremiah nodded soberly.
“I mean, I like the medallion, it feels quite nice, but I just want a new specimen for my menagerie . . .”
“And why isn’t anyone else involved in that here? Minister Fullan said vislae, but Mr. Whiskers isn’t here, Annalise isn’t here, Winstead isn’t here, so are they part of this too?” Rhea demanded.
Kithri gave a noncommittal grunt.
Marweg broke out of his sotto voce monologue and held up a hand. Everyone turned to look at him.
“Winstead used to live in Gatesmithe,” he began hesitantly. “Maybe she’s gone to her old residence. If we can find her, she might also have a lead on the location of the hate cyst.”
“Maybe,” said Rhea, “but I’m still concerned about Mr. Whiskers. He was supposed to be here, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” said Kithri, checking her clipboard again.
“Then I want to know what happened to him. If we’re headed to Gatesmithe again, I’m dropping by Le Roix first.”
Jeremiah nodded. “The Stamwhence Parade is still in Fartown, near Demonsbridge. It’s not far. We can stop by en route.”
Marweg shifted his feet a bit nervously. “Um, I’m not going to Gatesmithe alone, so if it’s all the same to you, I’ll join you.”
Ward turned his attention inward. What do you say, M. Broche? Shall we join them? You wouldn’t mind seeing some of that region of the city, would you? It would give you a chance to see how the other side lives. And it’s a region of great historical significance. Oh, and it will give you a chance to observe a neighborhood that travels throughout the city as well. I could regale you with the story of why we were on the stage today.
There was a brief pause before M. Broche responded. I believe I can trust your judgment. You have proven to be a most capable fellow, despite your wardrobe. If it will be as diverting as the rest of this day has proven to be, I’ll be more than pleased to see it.
“So will I,” said Ward.
“Very well,” said Kithri. “Then let’s take the scenic route. I’d like to avoid passing through the zoning blocks.”
“The fact that you can only contact me via Noösphere should suggest to you that I do not wish to be disturbed. However, if you absolutely must, then leave a message. I will decide whether to get back to you.”‡
Rhea grimaced and slipped a short message under his door to say he was missed at the ceremony.
“Not at home, not answering calls. Is he always this insufferable?” she asked.
Annalise muttered under her breath.
“Beg pardon?” asked Ward.
“Only when he’s not smug,” she said loudly, and then quickly looked behind her as though she expected him to be watching.
“Can we go over to the Rook for a moment please?” Marweg asked. “I’d like to check up on something.”
“Sure, we can go there.” Jeremiah led the way.
“But I don’t understand why,” Annalise pleaded.
“Why he wants to go to the Rook?”
“No!” It burst out of Annalise, and she immediately reined herself in. “Why would you want to go back to Gatesmithe? There’s nothing there except danger and ruin. What convinced you this was a good idea?”
Rhea shrugged to hide her discomfort. “It’s possible Winstead is over there now. She used to live there, as you know, before she was in Shadow. Anyway, since you said you didn’t know where she was just now, I want to find out if she’s gone back.” Rhea held her tongue about the commission. She felt it would not be a good idea to share that with everyone.
They arrived at the Rook, and Marweg laid a hand against the wall. He listened intently for a few seconds and then shook his head. Today it was only stone.
“Is the door open?” he asked.
“Jeremiah’s just tried the handle. No luck,” Ward replied.
“Anything else you wanted to try?” Rhea asked. Marweg shook his head. “Then let’s go. I don’t like the idea of Winstead being there any more than I like the idea of going. The sooner we get her out of there, the better.”
Annalise stepped back. “Watch out for each other. I don’t know if you are aware, but there are warning signs about danger and ordnance zones. Keep an eye out for those signs and for each other.” She gave a tight grin. “I hope to see you back again.”
‡ Vizier—Silver Sun
‡ Elusive Sleep—Green Sun
* Reference to Minister Aug Fullan. Angel/Messiah/Hidden Moon. An authority figure judges in the PC’s favor, provoking a new dilemma.
‡ Harvesting Spider—Blue Sun
‡ Sealed Door—Indigo Sun