Closed A Festival of Light and Magic

[Alses]

Timestamp: 24th Day of Summer, 513 A.V.
Location: The Dusk Tower

The twenty-fourth day of Summer, and magic hummed in the air. This was the time that, by common agreement, the Circle of Towers of Lhavit recruited in earnest, vying with one another in extravagant displays of magic and mastery to entice the next generation from Lhavit's youth. With the Djed Storm having dealt a punishing blow to mages and recruitment last year, each and every Tower was doing its utmost to win a record number of novices and bring their numbers back up.

For the Dusk Tower, this was perhaps slightly less urgent than for the other two; the aurists had got off comparatively lightly when the throes of chaotic, fighting djed had poured over the city. A few masters had succumbed to insanity under the onslaught, mostly those who'd been exerting themselves the most, trying to divine and understand the complex surge of the storm as it rolled in, but there had been no fatalities and precious few injuries. Most of House Dusk's family, staff and retainers had come through the ordeal relatively unscathed. Not at all like the others: the Dawn Tower had torn itself apart – literally – from the inside out, reimancers drunk on power rampaging through their own home and destroying everything in their path, intoxicated by the sheer unending energy the storm gave them, and the Twilight Tower had haemorrhaged novices and masters alike.

The Morphers had lost all control over their bodies, their powers goaded into uncontrollable life by the surging free djed of the storm, forcing all but the very greatest of the masters to shift and shift and shift and shift, warping their bodies far beyond what was normal or sustainable. Abominations – the twisted masses of flesh and fur and feathers and other, less-identifiable things that had once been practicing mages of skill and repute – had poured forth from House Twilight, inflicting horrible casualties before a determined rally by the Shinya had put them down, and the Twilight Tower had been much diminished by those losses.

In comparison to the other two Houses, the Dusks had sailed through the storm with barely a scratch, their home intact and most of their staff and servants safe.

Fire-fountains and sparkling ice sculptures bedecked the still-spartan grounds of the Dawn Tower, controlled whirlwinds picking up long streamers of coloured dye and making them stand out brilliantly against the sky, a very visible and flamboyant symbol of masterful control. There was fire of every colour of the rainbow, water continually being raised and sculpted into beautiful shapes, currents of shimmering air dancing in the sky and the very earth itself arranged into pleasing patterns by the House's reimancers.

They were emphasising control and all the manifold benefits that controlled reimancy brought, all its myriad peace-time applications – small wonder, considering what had happened to them during the Djed Storm.

The Twilight Tower, too, they were out in force – they'd a choir of Morphed songbirds serenading visitors to their grounds, a beautiful harmony and descant that chimed sweetly over everything else. Morphers were everywhere, demonstrating the flexibility and power of their discipline to awed and appreciative children and adolescents – they were even giving a lucky few an aerial ride over the city, having transformed into some form of giant bird not dissimilar to the Wind Eagles that occasionally visited.

There was pomp and pageantry galore – the Towers bedecked with banners and the streets strung with bunting, the squares closest to each of the three Towers chock-full of impromptu stalls that had sprung up, selling sweetmeats and refreshments to all and sundry. The Shinya had a heavy presence in the middle of it all, bulking in skyglass armour and ready to respond at the slightest hint of trouble, the horrific toll that overgiven mages en-masse had inflicted on their ranks still burning bright in their collective memories.

As an additional measure, the Catholicon had disgorged large numbers of immaculately turned-out healers – many of them glittering with Rak'keli's mark – who were welcomed into the Towers' grounds with open arms. Their pristine white tents were a reassuring sight to the more cautious mages and citizens alike – they were well-versed in dealing with most types of injury, from common crush wounds as might be sustained in a crowd to the more esoteric aspects of overgiving. They couldn't outright cure overgiving, of course, that was beyond all but the gods themselves, but the healers could at least speed recovery in the more minor cases.

Alses – dressed in her finest instructor's robes as she passed through the banner-bedecked gates of the Dusk Tower – bowed her thanks to a coterie of passing medics as she made her way through to the Tower proper and Mr. Secretary, the overall coordinator of the event.

The poor fellow looked harried, flicking through sheets of papers and barking orders from his command post – orders which even the masters of the Tower were obeying with alacrity, relying on the secretary and his staff to keep everything running on a smooth and steady, even keel. The instructors had come up with the overall vision for the Open Day, and handed over all the nitty-gritty details of its execution to the Tower's legion of staff – small wonder Mr. Secretary commanded respect and obedience.

He still found a smile for Alses, though, glancing up with his monocle flashing in the light and bestowing her with a wide grin. “Hallo, Alses,” he said quickly, attention rapidly switching to another pile of papers. “Good to see you. Opening time in a bell or so. Exciting, isn't it?”

“Chaotic, more like,” she observed with a quiet smile of her own. He laughed, briefly.

“Only to the untrained eye. We're keeping close tabs on everything, never fear. Which reminds me, your students have all turned up and they're waiting in Staging Area Three-” he dragged over a large map of the Tower and its grounds, liberally festooned with flags and markers of seven different colours “-that's the southern courtyard, by the way-” he tapped the map for emphasis “-and you are...” his finger danced across the intricate squiggles and dots of rainbowed ink “...here, with your mirror and your scrolls – we've found you a big bureau, so they've all been stacked neatly in there – next to the sparring ring where Lady Dusk's performing.”

Alses nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Secretary. Can we ask where the Catholicon tent is?”

His finger trailed aimlessly over the paper for a few moments, eyes scanning vigorously from side to side, before he located it with a triumphant stab. “There, see? Not too far from you.” Curiosity tinged his voice for a moment. “Planning on needing their help?” he asked.

“Planning?” Alses echoed. “No. Aware we might need them, if not for ourselves then perhaps for one of the prospectives, yes. Besides, our students will need to know where it is, so they can direct people there, if necessary.”

Her students were one of the subtler methods the Tower was using to keep order; they were skilled enough, now, to at least be able to recognize strong emotion in an aura, even in the middle of a crowd, and that enabled them to intervene before things got out of hand – or to call for Shinya backup should it be sufficiently serious. It rarely was, according to those who had more experience with these Open Days; the Lhavitian character didn't lend itself well to explosive displays of temper, but no chances were being taken. Some might still be bitter about the bloody price exacted by the Djed Storm, after all, and they might use this time when the doors of the Circle of Towers were thrown wide open to take some form of revenge. Students were also useful as guides; they were easily recognizable amongst the crowds and knew the Tower and its grounds very well.

It was oddly gratifying to walk at the centre of a protective gaggle of her students, a don being escorted to her place by zealous novices who peeled off either singly or in pairs as they reached their designated spots. Alma made a beeline for the Seiza, bulking in their flame-red robes, whilst Alses, for her part, pulled a face and quickened her step – the judiciary, even though there was always a call for experienced aurists in that line of work, weren't her favourite branch of the city government, it had to be said, and she thought she'd caught a glimpse of iron-gray hair and a cadaverous face amongst the gaggle of functionaries and guards. Meeting that austere and arrogant judge again was decidedly not on the list of things she wanted to do.

Their procession took them past a tight knot of merchants, who called out cheery greetings, waving pudgily beringed fingers and spreading silken robes in shallow bows as she passed. They were at the Dusk Tower to talk to the older prospectives about the manifold benefits of an aurist's education; contract-work was very lucrative, both for aurists and merchants alike. It kept the traders honest in high-level, sensitive discussions, and it saw that the wheels of commerce turned smoothly in the city without the need for vast amounts of regulation and scrutiny. Common practice in Lhavit, vanishingly rare elsewhere, conmen, charlatans and swindlers got very short shrift indeed, their lies and elisions clear as day to the experienced aurist.

The grand garden was clearly signposted all over the place, directing people to its verdant wonders to take part in aura hunts, showing off the subtle art of finding things others thought lost or buried – the winding pathways and pools of the gardens were perfect for that. Alses hid a smile at the discreet sign for mind-reading, every aurist's little conceit. True mind-reading was, of course, impossible, but with a fair amount of skill and a few leading questions it was easy enough to give the impression.

Rather than taking any of these paths, though, she headed down the main causeway, making a beeline for the sparring ring where Chiona Dusk would be demonstrating the more advanced powers an aurist wielded – subterfuge, misdirection and sensing of intent to name but a few. Alses' little domain in the Open Day was a raised dais nearby, the enormous mirror she'd crafted to the best of her ability shining brightly in the sunshine, a vast and heavy bureau by its side and stuffed full of glyphed scrolls.

There was a festival atmosphere in the air, even this early, and Alses waited for the bells to ring out slightly nervously, pacing up and down the dais and checking again and again that the mirror was still working. Irrational, yes – it'd work to the end of time – but nonetheless something she felt compelled to do, displacement activity taking her mind off the dwindling chimes until the gates were thrown fully open and the day commenced in earnest.

[Zeran]

It was no surprise for the people of Lhavit to be up so early. The city was always so full of life that it would be easy to assume that sleep to its citizens was a pastime, rather than a necessity. Today presented a different kind of lively, separated from the jovialities that were reserved for parties, or celebrations. Today, magic thrived amongst the people, spreading throughout the streets, inviting all to share in its experiences, its skills, and its knowledge. Last year's Djed Storm had done tremendous damage to buildings, bodies. and minds, but it did nothing to perturb Lhavit's views on magic. People were just more aware of the risks when messing around with djed. The Towers had opened outwards to the public, instead of simply opening up their homes. It had been an admirable gesture, opening your own home to let any random stranger walk in and share a long-held craft with them. One that had placed the three Towers high in the opinions of others, and they had extended their hand to show what their craft was capable of. To present the chance for others to learn - especially to those who had reservations from lack of knowledge on what each entailed - about each of their own traditional disciplines of magic. Each had their own displays about the beauties and uses of their own craft. Each Tower was competing with each of the others, and weren't at the same time. It was true that each had set up their displays to outdo the others, or so it looked, but the choice was not forced onto the crowds. They were free to make their own decisions, whether they it was which, any, or how many Towers they were joining. The crafts were explained in detail, and the decision on if the discipline of magic was for the individual was theirs to make. Zeran silently watched the Dusk Tower's gates, entranced by the banners adorning them as the breeze gently rocked the fabric back and forth. He didn't know why he was stood watching. Perhaps it was the elegant and colourful designs that had caught his eye, or even the motion of the cloth. All he knew was there had to be a reason for why he found it difficult to look away. The Tower's grounds will full of merchants, Aurists, students and everyone else. So many things happening inside the gates, and he was stood outside admiring cloth. A child's excited commands at his parents drew Zeran's attention inwards. A young boy, pulling on each parent's arm, leading them to where he next wanted to go. It was rare to see a youth so interested in magic such as Auristics. With the dreams of unbridled power, it was sooner expected a child would want to be Mizahar's greatest Reimancer, or Summoner. Auristics was one of the subtler, intellectual disciplines. One that didn't produce immediate results from your hands, but would reach goals of greater potential later on. Most children were impatient and wanted results in an instant, finally making practical decisions when they grew old enough to understand the risks of such choices. If the young child already had thoughts for Auristics, he was likely to achieve great things late in life. Zeran looked around the courtyard, finding that his legs had grown bored of standing outside and carried him in without instructions, though something now felt off about his new position. A nagging in the back of his head, one that was completely unjustified by anything other than a 'feeling'. A feeling that he was being watched. A Shinya stood at the gate, hidden from Zeran's view when he was outside. Or maybe he hadn't noticed him. The Shinya guard was analysing him, looking him up and down, possibly weighing up how much of a threat he was. Zeran knew the reason for the cautious nature of most of the Shinya around him. He was 'that wizard that had possibly overgiven to the point of being a threat'. But that was all it was, 'possibly overgiven'. Only Zeran himself knew if he had or hadn't. He could be considered a threat either way, so it made no difference to anyone if he kept that information close. Up until he proved to be a threat, he just had a close eye kept on him. To the Shinya guard's credit, he did wave back at Zeran when he did, but only smirked and looked elsewhere after. That was not a victory. The guard knew he was more than capable of incapacitating Zeran if required, and he'd be stupid to try anything with so many around. That was one thing Zeran always held in mind. He was mad, not stupid. Eager to take risks with complete disregard, not suicide missions. Demonstrations, games, pathways, all had been made available with the grounds of the Dusk Tower, each playing a significant role in highlighting the uses of Auristics to the viewer, and jobs in which it's invaluable. Except mind reading. Somebody's having a laugh. Whilst he knew master Aurists could make it look so, it was a bit misleading if people enrolled with the preconception they could read minds as they got better. The aura hunts looked interesting though. Zeran had decided he would return later to try his skills at it. The gardens did nothing to make the task look easy, but that was the point of the challenge, and where the fun was. First, he wanted to see what else was around. Above all other things the Dusk Tower had to offer, the merchants that had set up stall had just as much. Never was there an opportunity missed with most merchants. People hovered and jumped from stall to stall, browsing, haggling, buying. People enjoyed sharing their opinions on other peoples' work and wares, and even more so if they could own something they liked enough. Food, silks, glyphs and other magical items, the noise from this part of the grounds seemed to follow merchants everywhere. To Zeran, amongst all the others, one caught his attention, as it seemed to be out-of-place. "I see you have an eye for fine weapons, friend." Zeran ran his fingers along the edge of the double-bladed dagger in his hands, ignoring the obvious line the merchant was casting. The majority of his wares were bladed weapons of varying length, and some blunt and flanged. All were for close-quarters combat. "I also have an eye for fine merchants," Zeran replied, eyeing up the portly gentleman stood before him rubbing his hands together as if sore. "At the moment, I'm not seeing one. Why have you set up stall at the Dusk Tower, among Aurists? Wouldn't you do better with Reimancers? A flaming sword does a lot to an enemies morale." The merchant merely spread his hands and shrugged. "Aurists have there needs for weapons like anyone else. It's not exactly a discipline that will protect you in the Unforgiving now, is it?" He had a point there, and he took the insult well. That was to be expected. The kind of people he was likely to draw to his store weren't going to be the most refined. "Besides, Auristics goes well with a fighter's skill at higher levels." That much caught Zeran's attention. It could be used in fights as well? How? He had thought its only predominant uses were in detecting emotions, magical activity and stretching out the senses. There was more to it? Snapping his fingers was met with a younger man appearing by his stall. "Would you mind taking this man to the sparring ring? I think he might be interested in the demonstrations going on later." The man nodded, beckoning for Zeran to follow him. "It seems my eye needs a bit of work," Zeran said before following. "You're one of the better merchants I've had the pleasure of talking to." Zeran didn't wait for a response, taking off after the young man. He could've sworn he heard the merchants over the commotion. "Not good enough! I let you get away without buying anything!" It was then that Zeran decided he liked the merchant. If he ever ran in to him again, he'd make a point of giving the guy some business. He had a sense of humour about him, so he deserved it. His guide weaved in and out of crowds as if he'd been doing it his entire life. Zeran had gotten his fair share of insults from rubbing shoulders with the wrong people. Shame he hadn't knocked those ones over. The guide eventually slowed down, after having almost been lost a few times, opening up to a decently sized ring with a stage nearby. The mirror sat on top did well to receive a second glance from Zeran. There had been talk of an Ethaefal making use of the Phial at Elena's Studio, and even more of the heavy mirror she had with intricately-carved golden framework. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little while for the demonstration. It's still early and we're waiting to give others a chance of discovering it." Zeran did little else to acknowledge the man's words than nod and offer his thanks. That was all that seemed to be required before the guide disappeared back into the crowds. I've got time to make use of. Let's find out if the talk is true about that mirror. After having had a workout dodging people, Zeran took a slow pace towards the platform, ignoring much else bar the mirror. It was an impressive piece of handiwork, and the mirror glass itself looked flawless. 'Expensive' was the word that sprung to mind when considering the item. But if it was the one that had spent a few days in the Phial, the Ethaefal had doubled its value, at least. There were many Ethaefal walking by each chime, but Zeran only really cared to talk with the one who had earned Lady Elena's favour for the use of her lab. They must've been something exceptional to persuade the Lady of the Manor to share her equipment. "That is quite an impressive looking mirror the Tower has. Is it really safe to be out here unguarded?" Zeran let his thoughts slip out of his mouth. People were always happy to be friendly with people who praised their work. He only hoped that the Ethaefal he wanted was around to hear, and would respond.

[Alses]

More than a few of the Forty-Eight – the Ethaefal remaining in the starry city - had turned out to enjoy the spectacle of the Towers, it seemed; and it was a spectacle, that much was certain. Many, many Lhavitians who had no intention of becoming mages or learning any form of sorcery still enjoyed the displays of magic and mastery, just one of the many ways the Towers and the mages maintained the close and essential link between arcane and mundane.

Everyone was welcome – from children to the elderly, along with members of other influential and scholarly organizations around the city, from the Catholicon (who valued aurists in evaluating pain and treating deeply unconscious patients) to the Bharani Library – and that was something that had gone a very long way indeed to erasing the stain the Day of Discord had created regarding the Towers in Lhavit's collective psyche. It was the tacit acknowledgement that they were a part of the city, not somehow elevated above the rest of Lhavit, that the three Houses depended as much on the celestial city as it did on them, if not more so.

Back before Talora and Aysel had returned in glory to restore the city to her former glory, the Towers had been absolutely off-limits to the commons of the city, and – in the case of the Twilight Tower – the walls and railings had probably been strewn with the severed heads of those who had displeased the great and evil of the city. That was Alses' private theory, anyway – it explained the bloody aura that throbbed around the perimeter of that particular Tower, oozing across her skin in a thick, sickly impression that always made her shiver with revulsion and quicken her pace.

From her commanding vantage point, Alses was able to look down on the ebb and flow of (mostly) humanity, content to let the interested and the curious come to her, to ask after the shimmering, glowing mirror that effortlessly drew the eye and the pile upon pile of scrolls all around. Initiative, that was what she was looking for – there was no sense training an aurist if they were a sheep, unable to progress and grow without guidance and hand-holding. Independence of mind and quickness of thought were vital skills to support the growth and use of the discipline, after all.

Even so, when the event actually came and someone did speak, Alses was mildly surprised that someone had screwed up their courage or been spurred on by boredom in order to talk to her. Or at least, ostensibly to her. Curious, that - most who'd gathered nearby were waiting for the sparring to begin, a genteelly milling crowd being watched discreetly by the Shinya and the Tower staff alike. Alses drawn a few curious looks, of course - interest from afar, she'd optimistically labelled it - but little more just yet; an Ethaefal in official Tower robes drew admiring gazes from afar rather than close-in engagement.

Given that respectful reticence, she was glad of the opportunity that had been offered – Alses could at least recognize interest when it presented itself to her, although discerning the reason behind said interest was often rather more difficult, even with the aid of all her power.

“You like it?” she replied with a nod to the rainbow-reflecting mirror, amused and prideful in one. “It's a showpiece, really.”

Despite the self-deprecating tone of her words, delight and satisfaction with her work was evident in every line of her expression and carriage. She continued, unbidden: “I made it to reflect the richly-coloured world almost every aurist can see, right from their initiation; no-one seemed to have considered the simple allure of the beautiful numinous, the obscured world of secrets that so delights an aurist, in drawing the magpie eyes of prospective novices.”

A shake of her head, amusement and amazement at the foibles of those who sat in judgement evident in her expression. “And you're quite right. It's valuable, yes, but an absolute horror to move,” she replied serenely, eyes scanning over Zeran's form as she spoke. “As we can attest to our cost.”

A wry smile touched her Cupid's-bow lips for a moment at that admission, before returning them to neutrality even as Alses' voice took on a considering, pensive tone. “Besides, as tempting as it might be to make off with the mirror, we're guarded all right. You might not notice the defences-” and there was the effortless arrogance of the Ethaefal, the instant and automatic assumption that she could pinpoint them easily where others might have missed them, bumbling through life “-but then, House Dusk was never one for the overt. Take our word for it: there are guards spread all through the crowds and at every level of the Tower behind us, for one.” Her voice became less distant, less-abstracted; she was focusing more on the shallow world of the now and, consequently, the figure opposite her, rather than the generalised picture of the crowds that were gathering. Alses gestured grandly at the packed earth of the sparring ring, to illustrate a further point.

“Then, too, we're by the ring, where the most martial of our masters cluster thickly, waiting for their chance to bask in the adulation of the onlookers. I doubt anyone trying to steal our mirror would get very far, even should they manage to lift it.” A slightly mischievous smile. “We rather think Chiona – Lady Dusk – is hoping for someone to make a grab for it, actually. That way she's got an excuse to put all her training to use in enthusiastically subduing a miscreant before the Shinya get here.” A wince at the thought. “Best not to even contemplate it, really.”

Alses rose from her comfortable seat in a waterfall of tyrian silk and gilt, gliding with an easy, unconscious grace across the dais. Her crown-of-horns was dazzling in the sunlight, ivory and rich gold, and her eyes blazed that same buttery shade, almost lit from within by some internal fire. Fire-opal skin winked and flashed as she made a short half-bow to the figure that had asked the question. “I'm forgetting my manners,” she announced with another wry, self-deprecating smile. “We are Alses, Lhavit's resident magesmith and an instructor here at the Dusk Tower. And you might be...” she tailed off, expectant and knowing that that conversational hook was one few could resist biting, and certainly when it was such an innocuous, rational request.

[Zeran]

The voice answering his open question had no less purity in it than was to be expected of the Ethaefal. Though it was still uncertain if the one who answered was indeed the same who crafted the mirror. Nothing had been mentioned amongst those at the Studio if the Ethaefal was Synaborn or Lethborn, merely that they were female. The smoothness of her voice carried on, brushing the mirror off as a minor piece in the Tower's collection. In all truthfulness, there was a possibility that was the case, but skill could still be appreciated, regardless of monetary value of the item. Zeran glanced at the Synaborn's next words, listening intently. She confirmed that she had been the one to craft the mirror, but combined with her previous statement displayed a certain amount of modesty. Did she truly believe her work to be as insignificant as a 'showpiece' against everything else? Or was she in fact fishing for a compliment on her work? He watched her with inquisitive eyes, darting around her radiant figure, hoping, but not expecting, to find something that might suggest hints to which way she leant. If nothing else, he would likely be able to make a decision through conversation with her. She explained her mirror's purpose with a mastery of words, almost poetic. Her skill further extended to her explanation of the Tower's security across the grounds. Zeran silently hoped that she meant more than just the Shinya. They had been keeping an eye on him long enough to know when one was watching him. Perhaps she meant the Tower's own personal guards. Guards of the family amongst the crowds. Turning at her gesture, facing the flattened ground of the ring, he chuckled at the thought of family members being told there are things they are not allowed to do in their own home. Though the thought of Lady Dusk wanting in on the subjugation of a troublemaker did appeal to Zeran enough that he wanted to see such a thing, but not enough to give her that chance. In its entirety, he had to agree with her. It would have to take someone with his mentality and twice his skill to pull of such a stunt. Though one Voider could have that mirror and plenty other things before anyone figured out who he was. The only problem would be getting it all back if he was anything less than an expert. The delicate sound of silk-on-silk drew his attention back towards the Ethaefal sat behind him, only to discover she now approached him. Offering a bow, she introduced herself as Alses, along with her occupation. She was well-spoken, just as Elena had said amongst her musings. No doubt the cause of Lady Elena's teasing. With a flick of his cloak backwards, Zeran rested one arm across his stomach, stepping back fluidly into a bow that had been perfected over many introductions, matching the depth of Alses's bow. It did well to make a good first impression before the main of the conversation took hold. It was a useful ploy when trying to get an idea of others, as they are usually thrown off guard by rude behaviour afterwards, giving them no time to think on how to act. It was at that point that people would show their true selves, in that immediate moment when there were no plans, just your own natural thoughts. Though it was conceivable that Lady Elena had put her through enough hassle before allowing her the use of the Phial. That spoke volumes about her instantly. Perhaps I will take a gentler approach with her. Zeran held his bow for a short while, before reaching full height, announcing, "Well met, Lady Alses. Skilled in words, magecraft, teaching, and elegance. I am Zeran, plaything and companion of Lady Elena Lariat." Spreading his arm outwards, he swept them through the air, indicating the Alses's platform, the ring, Tower and everything within. "You have quite the spectacle going on her. I hope I'm not keeping you from any important business you need to be attending?" He turned back to Alses, "And I hope you don't mind me asking, but you wouldn't happen to be the 'Erotic Ethaefal' that - 'Erotic'? Exotic! - My apologies, Lady Alses. The 'Exotic Ethaefal' that Lady Elena had the pleasure of meeting?" Well done, you tripped up right from the start. At least that was an honest mistake. "Annoying how one letter changes the entire meaning of a word. Though I do believe that Lady Elena used both." Zeran mused, chuckling as he spoke.

[Alses]

“Elena? Lady Lariat?” a troubled expression – or rather, a mishmash of several conflicting emotions expressed in quick succession – flitted across her face for a moment. There was annoyance, embarrassment, a brief flash of pity and just a soupçon of curiosity, all vying for dominance before she schooled herself back to blank pleasantry, with perhaps just a hint of a blush and a faint smile remaining.

“You work for her? Syna defend you,” Alses murmured, shaking her head in private amazement that anyone could stand the woman for any real length of time. She was just so...brazen. And she had no respect for boundaries.

“Still, the pleasure is ours, Companion Zeran.” Flattery was always nice, as was the proper observance of manners - his bow had been very professional, very natural, although shallower than might have been expected from a Lhavitian to an Ethaefal. Not that it really mattered, of course. His aura, though, for all his apparent pleasantry and polish, was a different story, an immediate and instinctive cause for concern, although she tried not to let it show on her face. There were chains there, steely-gray impressions cinched tight around his legs and ankles, and blood, fringing the deeper mysteries she'd have to exert more conscious power to fully explore. Both were sensations she knew uncomfortably well – that was why she'd picked up on them so easily - from the blood-soaked history of human suffering burned into the stones of the Ethereal Opera House from before the Day of Discord.

So. A slave, then, surely – and there was an odd, shivering, canted jink to it all, too, a sensation that set her teeth on edge with its continual, atonal whisper in her ear. Given the thinness of those very impressions, though, the half-buried nature of the manacles burned into his aura and the washed-out sense of the blood which feathered the outer reaches, it was a past experience. Zeran had been, for whatever reason, freed, somewhere along the line, and had distanced himself from slavery and slaving. There was still that odd jinking cadence to consider, though, that atonal murmur that distracted and needled in her brain as she looked at him, continually drawing a tiny slice of her attention as she tried to work out what it was, what it stood for.

Internally, she shook herself – there was no need to closely examine everyone who spoke to her; if she tried that, she'd be in the Catholicon tent before lunchtime, an outcome to be avoided if at all possible by any sane practitioner of the arts arcana. Her butterfly attention was inexolerably drawn back to Zeran, who was gesturing flamboyantly – which seemed par for the course, given he apparently worked for Elena Lariat – at the Tower and its grounds, strewn with people and stalls and all the paraphernalia of making auristics as attractive a discipline as possible.

A chiming laugh wormed its way out of her voicebox and into the world at his comment. “Not at all. All this-” she mimicked his gesture at the spectacle with a smile “-is very much a part of our job, Companion. I teach here, and if there are no students to teach, then we're not exactly an asset, wouldn't you agree? Acquiring the next generation of students is as much an instructor's job as the actual teaching of the current crop is.” A wry grin.

“Hence why the Tower, once a year, stops everything else, puts on its peacock feathers, polishes up its jewellery until it gleams and displays to the very best of its prodigious ability. The trickle of hopefuls we get throughout the year become a flood for a little while after the Open Day, keeping our numbers up, and then we can get back to the business of educating Lhavit's sorcerers and sorceresses, secure in the knowledge that the craft is safe for another year.”

She gestured, grandly, at the mirror and the scroll-stuffed bureau beside her. “The mirror and the scrolls were my idea, so we were put in charge of them, as an experiment, I suppose. Do you perhaps have some interest in the discipline?” Alses asked, quizzical. “Any questions I might be able to answer?”

Her ears registered the added question only as she'd finished answering, her whole body stiffening slightly at Zeran's slip, even though he covered it quickly and apologised. Her lips thinned further at the mention of Elena Lariat discussing their encounter with her 'playthings', unconsciously crossing her arms defensively in front of her breasts as though to protect herself from further encounters with the playful, brazen sorceress. More meetings would surely be in the offing, though - the woman was powerful and well-connected, with secrets and skills that could be very valuable to a magesmith and aurist both.

'Foolish of me to assume it would be kept as a private affair,' she thought, chagrined and annoyed in equal measure, even as the reflexive blush marched its red armies over the crests of her cheekbones and poured rubies onto the wash of her cheeks.

“We wouldn't have called our meeting an unbridled pleasure,” Alses replied as coolly as she dared, after a pause to collect her thoughts and at least attempt to quash the blush. “Although her ladyship certainly enjoyed it.”

The not altogether-unpleasant (though she refused to admit it) memory of Elena Lariat's red, red tongue lapping at her fingertips caused her to bunch that hand into a reflexive fist and attempt to control her expression with a forbidding frown. “We now see why Madam Belladonna is so anxious to get an Ethaefal to work for the Red Lantern, though. And I'm very glad I didn't agree,” she added, sotto voce. A brief pause, and Alses shook her head, sending bright glimmers of reflected light from her crown-of-horns dancing everywhere.

“To properly answer your question, though: yes, I'm she. Lady Lariat was perhaps infatuated enough with me at the end of our meeting to give me the privilege of using her laboratories, so I suppose I can't complain too much. Especially since we were able to practice our craft once more and make that beautiful mirror.” There was happiness in that last sentence, something that all the uncertainty over Elena Lariat and her...unusual...personality and methods couldn't banish, the expression of someone who truly loved and had a feel for what they did.

[Zeran]

The change in demeanour was instantaneous, like snuffing out a candle. The mention of Elena Lariat's discussions had a palpable effect on the Ethaefal, aura seeping some kind of discomfort with the thought of it. Beyond that was not worth the additional tension headache. Zeran would only be able to get a feel of Alses's emotions, and try and deduce from there through any body language he could see the actual emotion. Pinpointing exactly was impossible for him at his current proficiency. "Lady Elena has obscure methods," he replied, amused at Alses's response to his slip. Although it had not been intentional, he was not about to miss a chance to read a reaction. Lady Elena's casual, carefree personality didn't seem to match Alses's expectations; whatever they were. Was she meant to be more professional? Or perhaps respect others' views enough to not include her own? "Whilst true she has no concept of restraint, I have learnt not to care how others live the lives Lhex has given them." His smile faltered briefly at his own words, glancing at the scrolls and mirror that Alses had indicated moments earlier, away from anyone's direct gaze. The statement had been a generality, interwoven with a tiny lie that was for himself. He didn't care how most lived their lives, but there were still a few that mattered. The child-crafted bracelet he wore on his wrist was that reminder, of a friend long since left behind, and a broken promise. "I would not sell yourself short though, Lady Alses," he turned back to her with a false vigour. Anything that could distract him from his memories for the time being. It was too soon to act on them, and he would not forget them. "Though she is eccentric, Lady Elena thinks and speaks very highly of you." Zeran nodded towards the work of magecraft set next to the bureau of scrolls, letting his eyebrow raise as if to point the way. "She would not have let you craft that in the Phial if she didn't. I'm certain she'd turn Tanroa away if she did not think much of her." "Steering away from that subject for now, Lady Alses, as my curiosity has been sated and it seems to have an effect on your mood." Zeran was not actively looking to start his usual stirring. Elena's opinion was enough for him, and his slip had rewarded him with some insight. "I do not want to be responsible for putting you in a frame of mind that will reflect badly on the tower and get you in any trouble." He bowed his head respectfully. If he was going to start prodding, he wasn't going to let it lead to any impact on his unfortunate victim. "Though to address you earlier question, without any students, you would simply no longer be a teacher." Let the other topic sleep, and point out the obvious on an earlier one. Brushing things aside and finding simple answers should've been a skill. "However, you would still be an asset, as you would still be an Aurist. One skill isn't any better than the next, they just make an individual better suited for different jobs. Fair to say?" Auristics definitely had a lot more applications than teaching, unless another merchant was going to expand on his knowledge again. Perhaps the matter was to always be aware of other opportunities that something could lead to. Alses had said her job was teaching, but never said it was only of Auristics as a skill. Perhaps she taught other things in conjunction with it. Teaching was being able to explain something in a way another could understand, even with no previous knowledge of the subject. And there wasn't even a merchant around to fill me in. I worked it all out by myself. "I do have two questions though." One question that had been niggling away in the back of his mind, and another that was further curiosity. "First, do the headaches ever stop after using Auristics?" Zeran massaged his temples, as if to further highlight the problem. It was one aspect of Auristics that continuously put him off using it, and if the pains were going to persist, he doubted he was going to use the skill a lot in the future. "It really doesn't do the discipline any favours." His second stemmed from the scrolls that sat with the mirror. Alses had already explained the purpose of the mirror, to give everyone the chance to experience the world in ways that only an Aurist could, but what was the point of the bureau. "And second, why so many scrolls?"

[Alses]

“Obscure's certainly one way of putting it,” Alses agreed with a wry smile, remembering that he was one of Elena's employees and therefore likely to report back at least some of what she'd said. “We might not be entirely comfortable with her methods, but it's her house, I suppose, and so long as she doesn't break the law we can't complain. She's got good taste, too,” Alses remarked, apropos of nothing very much, followed by a pensive pause, drinking in Zeran's little philosophy of life. An interesting idea, one that would even function if Mizahar were a paradise world and there was perhaps one person to the hectare, but so, so flawed – at least to her way of thinking – when it came to reality, when it came to the cities that everyone reasonable lived in.

“Each to their own life?” Alses echoed the sentiment, a half-smile quirking her lips upward. “A nice idea, but it doesn't really work in a city, does it? Or anywhere where you have more than one person near another. Some restraint, some care for the effect your life has on others, is essential to live well with one another, don't you think? Think of the chaos if everything disintegrated into a free-for-all, if everyone became like Elena.” A slow, convulsive shudder at the thought, the mental images of serene Lhavit overrun with a horde of Elena Lariats being decidedly unpleasant.

“Although...now I think on it, would we be right in saying your mistress likes to push people? Perhaps we should push back. Forbidden fruit, I think the poets call it.” A mischievous, wicked smile flickered across her face for an instant, transforming the distant, flawless beauty into something much more earthly and alluring, her complex aura shimmering and shivering with brief glee. Alses was thinking back to Elena's comment of how she enjoyed the chase, the hunt – actually having the object of her desire ruined it in some obscure way. Perhaps that was why she had so many companions and general hangers-on: a collection of living trophies.

“You said her ladyship speaks highly of me?” Alses asked, confused as to how she'd managed to give such a good impression. Most of the painful interview had been spent blushing or not-so-subtly avoiding Elena's half-playful, half-serious advances. “How singular. She spent most of the interview-” Flattered, despite herself, Alses shook her head; there was no point rehashing what Elena had doubtless already told Zeran. “-well, never mind. I'm grateful she saw something worth her regard, and we can appreciate her skill and power. She's just a little unnerving, especially at first meeting. Wouldn't you agree?” That was the most diplomatic way she could put it, and Alses felt rather proud of her phraseology, massaging unpalatable feelings and unkind impulses into honeyed words.

Zeran's comment on turning away the gods themselves made her laugh once more, a delighted little chuckle at his doubtless-astute observation. It fitted prideful, playful, eccentric Elena Lariat to a tee. Or almost. “We're sure you're right – though the gods seem to hold a special spot in her heart, have you noticed?” Her bright eyes rested on his face, searching expression and aura both for any indication of whether her suspicion, her hunch - formed from the endless replay of their interview and Elena's abrupt decision at the end of it - was correct or not. Always presupposing Zeran had his mistress's confidences, of course – Alses realised, with a jolt, she didn't even know how long he'd served the eccentric and shameless Lady Lariat.

Abandoning that line of inquiry by mutual, implied agreement, Alses instead turned her attention back towards the matters of the Tower and auristics, the very purpose for her being out in the grounds in the first place. “I shouldn't worry too much, Companion,” she murmured reassuringly. “The Tower has a light hand on its instructors.” Buoyed by the fact that the conversation had turned away from slightly-contentious matters, she added: “And do call us Alses, by the way. The city heaps enough titles on me as it is.”

A brief shake of her head, the physical symptom of a mental realignment. “As I said. So long as we don't abuse our guests or our students, we've a fairly free rein here. Me more than most, perhaps, as Lady Dusk's apprentice, but all the Towers learned the lesson of heavy-handed authority in the Day of Discord. They support, now, they don't oppress.” A brief, mirthless smile, a hint of the iron core buried beneath the shimmer and the glow. “Or else, by order of the Day Lady and the Night Lord and Zintila herself.”

Head cocked attentively to one side, the very picture of a diligent teacher, Alses listened to Zeran's questions, noting with some relief that both were easy, queries she felt were well within her purview.

“We did think you were a practitioner,” Alses noted with a mildly smug smile – she wasn't so used to her powers as to take them for granted, after all, and being proved right was always satisfying.

“Now, the headaches...On the contrary, I'd say they do the discipline a great favour,” she countered with a smile, to take any perceived sting out of her gentle words. “They're the first signal you're on the primrose path to overgiving and oblivion, and a splitting headache makes it very hard to maintain your focus, especially as a novice or even a reasonably competent aurist.” A thoughtful pause, as she rolled various considerations around in her brain before replying.

“That said, the occurrence of headaches – or worse - depends entirely on what you're doing and how well you've been taught. A protracted long dive to analyse the auras of a whole crowd for a long time will still bring them on, of course, as will something like the sparring demonstrations-” she nodded over to the still-empty ring “-if you keep it up for long enough. If you're well-taught and skilled, then the simple, little things – the basics of the auras around you, for instance, or the taste of food and drink from a distance...they become unconscious, with practice. We can – and do – look at you, and everyone and everything around you and see the general information - the colours, sounds, tastes, touches, smells of the auras - without any effort, and we don't suffer headaches or hallucinations or sense locks every day.” A wry smile. “Even with three-hundred-and-sixty degrees of auristic impressions pouring into our brain. That takes some getting used to, I'll admit.” A delicate pause, to let the information percolate into Zeran's brain and be processed – pauses were an essential tool in any teacher's repertoire, she was learning – before she continued, addressing his second query.

“As to the scrolls, well...if people show interest but aren't quite sure of their path, I'm hoping my scrolls might tip the balance. They can let prospectives borrow the powers of an aurist for a little while. Most of these ones aren't very powerful – that's how we made so many – just a few chimes of power at the most, but they give a very good idea of what it's like to be an aurist. I made a few stronger scrolls, too, in order to show some of the...” she cast around for an acceptable word “...informally trained aurists what their skill can become if honed professionally. You're quite welcome to try one, if you'd like.” A smile. “We've got lots.”

A piccolo of concern, a shrill remembrance of Lu Gavima's reaction to one of her more powerful scrolls, piped in her head, prompting a delicate question: “Might we ask what sort of skill you have with the discipline already?” Alses enquired carefully – she was slowly learning that, when it came to questions, less was more in many ways. Leading questions, open-ended, often resulted in a rainbow of information, far greater than that obtained from specifics and therefore useful when evaluating another.

[Zeran]

Zeran rolled his thumb over his lips, letting them snap back, and repeated. Alses had compared the headaches to an early-warning system. As useful as it was before any damage was caused, compared to other disciplines he used, it came on far too quickly. Either Auristics never did and never would agree with him, or his technique needed a lot of work on it to improve. "I never actually had a teacher for Auristics," he explained, dragging out each of his words, as if to give himself time to think of the end of the sentence, and drumming his fingers against the floor of the stage. Come to think of it, Hypnotism had been trial-and-error also, but he'd learnt that as a child so he could get away with a bit of extra mischief. The divines help his parents, he had been too clever for his own good as a child. Then again, that was the result of having clever parents teaching you ways to get by in life. It was arguable that it was their fault. "Auristics was self-taught. Quite badly, from the way you explain it." Part of the reason he wanted to come to the open day was the prospect of having someone who knew what they were doing teach him. Within a few chimes of talking with Alses, one of the instructors, it had become apparent he needed it. Even the things she had listed as unconscious readings required him to focus. Thumb still on his lips, Zeran swayed side-to-side, stepping from one foot to the next. His legs were falling asleep from lack of use. It wasn't going to stop him from listening. Alses spoke of the signs of overgiving from abusing the discipline, but weaved it in with some of the benefits that could be attained with practice. She sounded to be as passionate about Auristics as she was for magecraft, when she sounded proud of her mirror, and did well to sell it. All of it made the discipline a universal magic. There seemed to be very few areas that Auristics didn't have a beneficial uses. Combat, interrogation, business, socialising. Admittedly you'd have to be careful with its applications. There were bound to be people who got touchy about being read like a book. All it meant was you'd be extra careful to not get caught. "Borrow the powers..." Zeran repeated her words slower and lower. They sounded familiar, he was trying to work out where from. "Focus glyphs?" He looked up at Alses with a bright smile, proud of himself for remembering. Lady Elena had used similar ones in her experiment. And he was now being offered the chance to experience the effects of one, as opposed to being the power source to one. "May I?" With all the grace of a fish, Zeran hoisted himself onto Alses's stage, kicking his leg round to give some footing. There had probably been stairs, but that required a longer journey than simply going up. Clambering to his feet, Zeran felt himself dip backwards as he found there to be no surface where he thought there was, almost falling off. He had been so close to the edge that stepping backwards to steady yourself was not advisable. "I'm fine!" he announced. "I'm alive!" He looked back over his shoulder at the short drop he would've had, and shrugged it off. "Ah, it wouldn't have killed me." He laughed for no apparent reason, moving away from the edge. The crowds were picking up, along with the noise that came with them. Amazing how much things could get moving along in the few chimes spent talking to another. Commotion looked to be building up around the sparring ring as well. Everybody enjoyed a friendly fight as much as they enjoyed magic. Though Zeran hadn't been expecting fighting spirit to be found within a lot of people who had an interest in Auristics. It definitely didn't sound like a discipline that had been developed for fighting, but the value of most things came from its variety of uses. "Skill?" The only confusion evident was in his voice, as his expression held his usual grin, though he had no doubt Alses would be able to read it in his aura as well. It didn't seem worth it though. He chewed his tongue as he thought of a response. "Very little. If we compare your level of skill to silk, mine would be soaked paper in comparison. There's a good chance that the majority of people worse than me have never used Auristics before." He was definitely still a beginner, and had a long way to go before he could be considered even competent. "Out of curiosity, again, do your scrolls have triggers?" Elena was right. It was always a good feeling to show of your own knowledge to others, even if they knew more on the subject than you. It made you feel like you knew what you were talking about. Up until they started talking about things you had no clue on. Perhaps it wasn't best to show off until you were sure of everything. "Or will they just activate when I open them?" There was something going on at the sparring ring now. People dressed for battle were busy around it, getting ready for the upcoming demonstration. Was that happening sometime soon? Or were they sorting things out before the crowds got too big and they couldn't move without some interrupting. One of the participants, a youthful-looking woman, walked out amongst all the others, discussing plans and schedules no doubt. Or is she just as impatient as the crowd? "Lady Dusk, I assume?" Zeran asked Alses as the woman waved over to the platform the two of them were stood. Zeran gave an over-the-head wave back, before realising it probably wasn't meant for him. "Is she trying to get your attention? Or is she just that loving of you?"

[Alses]

Alses pursed her lips, thankful she'd been diplomatic earlier and not used the term 'hedge wizard'. “Books really are the worst method of learning auristics,” she agreed readily. “It's such a subjective discipline, see.” She waved a dismissive hand towards the pearly spire of the Tower, bulking large in the near distance. “We've more-or-less given up on the Tower library – and believe me, it's considered very good for auristic tomes – for learning new techniques; it's rather more trouble than it's worth, unless you're of a particularly poetical bent.” 'And you have a penchant for puzzles,' her mind added. Puzzles she didn't mind, it was the rhyme and verse that caused all the problems, the pretty words hiding the meanings, the techniques. More efficient by far to have an experienced instructor as a guide.

A shake of her shining head, at the vagaries of past generations of Dusks dead and gone. “A good instructor can teach you the most elegant ways of manipulating your djed, help you explore and deal with the deeper world that auristics exposes, and of course be there for you when you stretch yourself too far – a good, hard slap is hard to beat when it comes to stopping a novice tipping forward into serious overgiving.” Another nod back to the gleaming edifice of the Tower, bedecked with banners and flags bearing the intricate crest of House Dusk. “I'd urge you to consider taking formal instruction - if you want to improve, that is.”

A smile touched Alses' face at Zeran's almost childlike 'May I?', tinged with concern as he swung himself up onto the dais proper – why hadn't he just used the steps? - and windmilled for a moment or two on the edge before he regained his balance and equipoise, a disturbingly comical sight that saw Alses covering her mouth to avoid betraying the laughter that bubbled up.

“You could have used the steps, you know,” she murmured, amused. “And you certainly may try one of our scrolls, if it'll help you make your mind up.”

With a wry smile – Zeran might make an infuriating poet-mage in the vein of the most obscure of the Dusks if he carried on assessing his skill in such a whimsical fashion – Alses considered what scroll might be best, listening with half an ear as her prospective continued and torn between extravagant display and prudence.

“Triggers?” Alses echoed, brain having been prompted by another question. “But of course. Triggers and barriers and focus glyphs, the standard glyphic trinity for scrolls. Of course,” she admitted, “We could do away with the trigger and just rely on the breaking of a barrier, but that's sloppy. Not good practice, really.” She turned, with a lightning-fast apologetic smile, back to the bureau, sparkling fingers dancing over the protruding ends of tight-rolled scrolls, pausing at one for a long moment - fingertips hovering eagerly - before, with a sigh, moving on and drawing another one out with practised ease.

“I'd have liked to give you an expert's eye,” she announced to Zeran and the world at large, having selected a scroll that would merely show high competency instead. “But if you're not that practised it might overwhelm you, and then we'd have to drug you senseless-” absently, she waved a slender phial of thick purple liquid at him, having produced it, magician-like, from an inner pocket “-and carry you to the Catholicon tent.” A wry smile, speaking of experience even as Alses caused the phial of Sweet Oblivion to vanish once more and unrolled the heavy sheet of paper, presenting it, grandly, for Zeran's perusal. “And that wouldn't be good for either you or me.”

The scroll unfurled before his eyes bore striking resemblance (had Alses but known it) to Elena Lariat's own style of glyphery; ornate and whimsical, full of organically curving lines, of curls and curlicues and seemingly-decorative regressions – the focus glyph's swirling arcs evoking images of a drain for djed, a hungry chasm into which torrents of magic could pour and pour and pour and be lost to the depths forever – or at least, until the restraining glyphery was released.

Her shining fire-opal finger tapped the inky swirls. “Focus glyph, where the effect is stored,” her hand moved to the inky pearls that shimmered and danced around the central glyph, “Barrier sigil, to keep the effect contained,” once more her fingers danced “And the trigger, to release the barrier and let the effect discharge. Make sure to point it towards yourself before you say the trigger word, hmm?”

The trigger word itself was 'Yomi-canoch', or the 'Precious Word', but the glyphs would speak their meaning straight into Zeran's head; he'd not need knowledge of Nader-canoch to trigger it.

Once spoken, the barrier would flare and die as the trigger glyph flung antithetical djed across the scroll, the quick collapse exposing the focus glyph and allowing it to release Alses' stored power and knowledge straight into Zeran's waiting brain. A small fraction of what she could do, admittedly, and with limited power to boot, it was nevertheless a useful tool for impressing prospectives and teaching novices alike, drenching the world in auristic impressions using the full five senses and with enough finesse and knowledge to protect the unprepared mind.

“Lady Dusk, I assume?”

Zeran's question caused Alses' head to whip sharply up and to the side, scanning the crowd until she saw the waving figure; a smile broke out on her face at the sight. “Yes, that's her,” she replied, sweeping a glittering bow in return. “We get along well, Chiona and us, but that's not just a greeting. She said she'd tell me when they were ten chimes out from performing.” Alses flashed a grin at her companion of perhaps half a bell. “We're going to distribute a few of the scrolls amongst the crowd, so they can really see the fireworks when the masters start their bouts. The plan is to stage a brief normal fight – probably between the House Guard – and then follow that up with the masters who use the full extent of their powers. Even to the uninitiated, the difference is striking, but to anyone who can perceive auras the display is...breathtaking.”

Alses smiled, remembering the few times she'd observed the sparring ring in full use, the liquid dance of the combatants sensing the intent of their opponent and dancing away from the strike a split-tick before it even began, all the more impressive for the aurist when they noticed the continual striving of the fighters to keep their own auras under rigid control, to not give away a single secret or expression of intent. In many ways, the dance of bladed weapons and feet across hard-packed earth was a secondary display, a side-effect of the war being waged in the numinous plane, but none the less impressive for all of that.

“Some of my students - ah, here they are – will help with the dissemination,” Alses commanded lazily, even as three of her novices – Erin, she of the flame-red hair and with passions barely-restrained beneath the surface, studious and polite Robert, whose bow was fuller and more formal than Erin's, and finally Tael, managing to be untidy even in fresh-pressed novice's robes and with the characteristic faraway look of someone deep in the discipline - ascended the dais and began to pull sheaves of scrolls from the bureau and into sturdy wickerwork baskets.

Alses nodded approvingly; someone was displaying initiative, since the baskets hadn't been part of their brief. “Would you like to watch, Companion Zeran?” she asked. “Or shall I continue trying to persuade you of the benefits of Dusk Tower tutelage?”

[Zeran]

For all its grand designs and architecture befitting the rest of the estate, Alses made the library sound worthless to them. How many books had she just offended with her few words? The Bharani Library was always looking for donations if they didn't want them. The books would feel welcome there, and appreciated by many who would want to read them, as opposed to feeling dismissed because someone couldn't decipher them in a time that suited them. They don't go through the trouble of writing and copying out a book if it's worthless. Perhaps Auristics is just a 'poetic' branch of magic? "Anybody within the Tower considered writing an Auristics guide themselves?" Zeran turned away from the spire shining in the distance. The sun off it was beginning to hurt his eyes as he stared. Then again, the Synaborn didn't seem to sparkle much less than the spire. "If you know what's wrong with something, then you know what not to do when trying yourself. Otherwise, you don't have a right to criticise another's hard work if you're not at least willing to try to do better." It wasn't that he believed a book was better than another person. Far from it. You could ask a question and receive several answers until you understood. Some books had a habit of being a bit arrogant. Ask it a question and it would sit there, showing you the same pages, saying 'Here's the info. If you can't find your answer, you're an idiot.' Shout at it, and it would draw weird stares from everyone else around. Goad you, then make you look a madman. Maybe the books in the Tower's library are like that... I'm going off on one again. Arrogant book or not, it wasn't fair to judge if you couldn't appreciate how hard the task truly was. "I must agree that an instructor is better than a book though," he conceded, shrugging at Alses's suggestion. "I've started the task. It seems natural that I should want to get better, wouldn't you agree?" As an instructor at the Tower, Zeran already knew what answer to expect from her. She'd be a poor teacher if she encouraged her students to start and never finish. Damn it Lady Elena! I'm now asking questions I know the answers to! "What fun are stairs anyway?" Zeran asked, approaching the bureau of scrolls. So there were stairs up onto the platform. Of course there were. With all the expense that had already gone into the open day, it would be strange if they left the members of the Tower to clamber up onto the dais in an undignified manner. There must've been other cuts planned before a few steps. Still, it was doubtful they were going to be used by him on the way down either. "I would've thought bettering your climbing skills was a must for Kalea residents." Focus, barrier and trigger. Apparently the three used when making scrolls, and he only knew of two of them. Elena hadn't used barrier glyphs in her experiment. She hadn't been using scrolls. It left him wondering what barrier glyphs did now. If the name was anything to go by, they protected. The question that left Zeran with was 'Protect what?' The user from the magic in the focus? Or the focus from external damage? Good thing the lack of trigger was sloppy practice. Lady Elena might have something to say if she thought her magical prowess was being slandered. Zeran could've sworn there was an implication he was heavy in Alses's words, but it was finding implications that weren't there. More impressed with the magically-appearing, purple vial, Zeran showed amusement and wonder at the trick similar to that of the children dragging their parents around the grounds. Acting as such again when it disappeared. He'd have to learn that trick one day. "Can't we try it anyway? I'll go to the tent first if it makes things easier. Never been knocked out befor- Nevermind. Don't want to give the Shinya a reason." Don't get admitted to a medical tent for overgiving when local authority is already watching you for the same reason! Zeran's hands reached from underneath his cloak, accepting the scroll from Alses with a thanks. The scroll was of high quality, feeling like sanded wood, and having a smoothness to it that wasn't found with local parchment. The glyph in the middle Zeran instantly recognised, even before Alses pointed and explained. The focus glyph, responsible for remembering a magic or aiding its usage. The circle of smaller glyphs around went unknown into she told him these were the barrier glyphs to keep the magic contained. That must've been why Elena hadn't used them. She didn't want the magic contained for any length of time. Just enough to swap the target. It was unlikely that the trigger was going to get damaged, so the focus wasn't going to release its magic until told. And finally, the trigger. This one having a verbal activation like Elena's. In fact the two were a lot alike. "Your focus glyph looks a lot like Lady Elena's," he commented nonchalantly, no longer paying attention to Alses's reaction at the prospect. Zeran found enough to occupy his attention analysing the scroll, the intricacies of the focus, the patters in the barrier, and the shape of the trigger. They all meant nothing to him, but he did notice that, whilst not exact, there were similarities in some aspects, and differences in others that still did the same thing. "What's the-?" Yomi-canoch "Ah, thank you." He knew enough of the Ancient Tongue to recognise the individual words. It was almost second nature to pick up a few words in the least when learning any magic. Every incantation used to help novices was in the language, so a few words had rubbed off on him, even though he'd never heard that phrase before. "Wait... Wha-?" Zeran frantically looked around. He hadn't heard those words being spoken, he had thought them, knowing they were what made the trigger word. Asides from him and Alses, there was no one else on the stage, and every person off stage was walking by on their own business. Cloak flailing wildly at each sharp turn, attempting to catch someone listening in on their conversation, almost tripping up over his feet a few times, he turned back to Alses. "I think we have a Hypnotist eavesdropping." Three students, as Alses had addressed them, walked up onto the dais carrying big, wicker baskets and began to fill them with a number of scrolls from Alses's bureau. Not enough to deplete her stores to a point of concern, but enough to hand out a good number to others wanting to watch the display she had described. It sounded like Lady Dusk, Chiona, was no push-over when it came to a fight. Why employ guards when the family is more deadly than the personnel they take on? Zeran teemed with excitement, pacing back and forth, bouncing on his knees at the thought of a quick-paced fight. Who didn't enjoy a good fight anyway? And, when it came down to it, Zeran liked to act like a child in an adult's body. Children loved big, epic battles. So much violence! Though it was doubtful there was going to be much physical damage, if the participants were as good as Alses let on, the clash of weapons was still enough to get a crowd going. Managing to stay still long enough, Zeran rolled up his Auristics scroll. "I'm going to be saving that until the fight begins. Can we go watch the fight? Please La- uh, I mean Alses?" He thought he did well to catch himself from making the mistake after she requested no such title. Strange, most he'd met enjoyed the titles. Though, she had said she had enough titles as it was, maybe she was bored with them. Taking a few steps back from the front edge of the stage, he stopped as he answered Alses's final question. "I came here with the intention of joining. Auristics wasn't doing me any favours with constant headaches, so I decided I needed to get the ability under control enough so it wasn't a continuous threat. Now that I'm here, and spoken with you, I just have one request upon joining. I get taught by you when possible, instead of a stranger that will find me difficult to handle. I have that effect on people, and tend to work better with people I like." With one final, wide smile and a laugh, Zeran ran for the edge of the stage, kicking his legs up in that air as he jumped into the crowd. "Airborne!" Only Lhex knew how he managed to land without colliding with someone. Perhaps they saw the nutter running for the edge of the stage and ducked? Feet digging into the earth as he landed hard, Zeran rolled forward as the momentum carried him away from his landing spot, laughing all the while as he protected his scroll. He was enjoying himself, though it did look like people were giving him a wide berth now. Some were even kind enough to look concerned. Sitting up on the ground, he waved for Alses to join him. They needed to find a good spot if he were to get a good view of the fighters, and for full visual effects of their auras to be anything like Alses had described.