Edan returns to the castle. He gathers his things for another trip, summons Kyauta to him from exploring the city and environs, and goes down to the stables to prepare his horse, Aramsham. It's not a normal preparation, there; along with the grooming and checking equipment, he saddles his horse with the best and most durable tack and harness that he owns or can find, things that he can charm against the damage that extreme heat would do.
That done, he points his horse out along the coast, in preparation for a hellride that most of the Family would not consider taking.
Kyauta complains that this is a dull place and he has trouble eating birds and taking their forms. Everything tastes the way lightning smells.
This doesn't surprise Edan too much. "Not to worry, it's about about to get more exciting."
The stablehands help with the tack and the stablemaster helps Edan choose the best gear. He tells Edan that he has seen Benedict or Caine return a horse with shoes on it that no mortal smith could have forged, and that if Edan knows those spells, he may want to cast them as well.
He then makes a strange sign involving his finger and his forehead.
Edan is nodding almost before the stablemaster finishes. "I know something similar, but likely not as long a duration. Tell me, what is this?" He repeats the same finger-forehead sign.
"Sir? Nothing sir, just wipin' me brow, Sir."
He's quite nervous. "I'm a family man, sir, I need to get back to them, if your Lordship will excuse me, I will retire."
Edan smiles. "Of course. Thank you for your help. Have a good night." Once the stablemaster leaves, and once Edan is sure that he has everything he wants for the trip he is to take, a pick, bags, a rake, heavy gloves, he rides Aramsham out of the stables and out away from the city. When he's ridden out a respectable distance, he dismounts and starts a fire; he uses it for his Sorcery.
It's all about what gets used up in the spell, this time. Edan rubs down his horse with a series of rare plants and powders, using what he has because he knows this is a unique trip to make. He finishes with red hot coals plucked from the fire itself, knowing Aramsham won't feel them by that time. The entire ritual is accompanied with chanting and a dance, which is more than just for artistic show.
It may be that Edan himself will need additional Sorcery for heat protection this trip, but he is confident a more tame effort will be needed for his part.
"Hah!" Aramsham gets a kick in the ribs, and the trio is off on an easy gallop. The fire sputters and dies behind them as if it had never been.
The cadence is rhythmic, almost hypnotic; they follow the line of the coast, with a line of clouds slowly combining above them into a grey wall. It takes a very long time, but the clouds eventually darken, get lower, take on the smell of smoke. The sand coarsens, gets darker as well, until they are racing along great bands of black and yellow pea gravel.
Another burst of speed, a turn; the water begins to steam, to bubble. Vents of smoke and steam issue forth from cracks in the now flat, dry ground. The smoke gets thicker, and heat builds upon heat. Another turn, another kick. Aramsham's eyes are rolling now, but Edan stops it with a sharp command. The horse feels nothing. Ground, rocks, a tunnel of black rock. They emerge on a plain of rock and fire and black smoke. Another kick, and they are into a full gallop. Aramsham is magnificent, as they break through a shower of sparks and fire...they race along a trail, lava on both sides of them...it widens, becomes a path between mountains...the smoke is choking now, would overcome them if not for Sorcery...the world is a hellish red-lit place, and fountains of molten rock are all around...faster, faster...each strike of the hooves brings sparks and flame...they glow now, all of them, yellow and red in a hazy shimmering aura...volcanoes now in the distance, the cone he's looking for...a place where metal and precious stones pushed upward in a funnel up to the surface...racing still, slowing, finding the details he wants, the place and the temperature and the stones he's looking for...
Draw rein.
Edan has brought bags and picks and a rake. The ground glitters with precious stones the ground has thrown upward to pry and collect. But in this world there is no one to take them, no one but Edan himself. He dismounts, takes a long drink from a waterskin; it's going to be a long day.
It is indeed a long day, but by the end of it Edan has a sackful of precious stones, ranging from tiny to a size that most human cultures would give specific names to.
He could crash the economy of a number of places without even cutting the stones.
Aramsham is, at best, bored. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by the heat.
Edan makes sure that he has everything packed up and ready to go. He isn't looking directly at his affine when he asks, "Kyauta. Tell me of your existence before you were given to me at the Race to Madness."
Kyauta shifts, rearranging his bones to better sit on Aramsham's saddle horn.
Great Lord, I was a bird in the skies of Xanadu. I was a part of the Blue World. I was a drake. I was many, many fish.
I rode the moon. I was the father of the rains of Uxmal. Before that, I do not recall.
"That sounds like things that you experienced with me," Edan says. "I still don't understand why Chases-in-Madness would offer you to me as a token. According to Merlin, such a thing is not normally done. Perhaps she merely marks me as her enemy, giving you to me. Perhaps she marks me as something else. Perhaps she and her people could track me through you. I do not know. I can personally attest to your loyalty, I know that. I would...I would use Sorcery to see your life before your recollection, if you would be willing."
I serve at my Great Lord’s pleasure. Kyauta seems unperturbed by the idea.
Edan's hand catches aflame as he reaches out to Kyauta. He places the heel of his other hand, also on fire, against his Third Eye.
"Remember," he says. "Think back to where you were dancing on the palm of Chases-in-Madness. You were in the form of a horse. That is the starting point."
"I know more, Great Lord." Kyauta is neither surprised nor alarmed by his newfound ability to recall. "I was the Great Lord Chases-In-Madness’ most malleable servant, Great Lord. She protected me and I served her. When she needed a saddle blanket, I was a saddle blanket. When she needed an airborne scout, I was a scout. Of her small set of real objects, I was firstmost, as I have been for you. Before that, I was a part of her lessons. I became sentient then, as we learned how to be Lord and Affine together. Before that, I was a part of someone else, taken from a Great Lord in battle. That is beyond my ability to remember, for the parts of that being who remembered did not come with me."
Edan nods, and lets the spell lapse. "This was the answer I was looking for. You were not created as a trap. Whatever ties to Chases-in-Madness the other Riders recognize, they are symbolic. Thank you, my affine. This answer pleases me." He looks around. "Are you ready to depart? I shall fill you in on recent events and my plans as we get up to speed for the hellride back."
Kyauta takes a few steps and his legs grow longer and thicker. "I am ready at your pleasure. I would assume her other affines would report that you had given her a knife, Great Lord, to match the one she gave to you."
Edan grins. "Well, it's interesting you should mention yourself as a weapon. Let me tell you about what happened in Xanadu..." and he fills Kyauta in on the creation of the Order and his own short-term plans for recruiting as they pack up and head back in the direction of home.
Kyauta listens intently. Since it was was not asked for input into the Great Lord's plans, it offers none.
The Plan has been communicated, and that's the important thing. Edan continues back; unless they run into something, he'll set Michelle up with the starting funds when they return to Xanadu. It will be her task to convert and disburse them appropriately. After a final review of building plans and last-minute problem-solving, he'll be off towards the Land of Peace.
Michelle shows him a lovely site on the edge of town and is ready to hire men to clear it and then to build the barracks and the chapter-house. Everything looks good, but expensive. Luckily, shiny things pay for a great deal.
Random wants Edan to provide horses for the royal stables, as rent-in-kind to set a precedent. Michelle thinks it will not only be feasible, but will possibly give them a way to make the order more self-sufficient.
Edan can accept Random's idea, and is happy with the concept; after all, he has an interest in raising horses. They'll probably need more room for the stables and pastures, but that's easily arranged. With this all handled, he bids his seneschal adieu and turns Aramsham around towards the Land of Peace. By land. And in this case, he aims for a fast trip, but not a hellride; just having done one, that had to be hard on the psyche.
Edan heads out, riding perhaps for a day towards the dense jungles to the south of Xanadu. When he was last here, he thought he was nearing Amber and Kyril thought he was on an island. If the climate was warmer, this would be a forest, but apparently, the King likes the warm places.
By sticking to the beach, Edan has the opportunity to play with the dunes, and the sea birds, and the smell of the sea. Soon enough the dunes of the beach become the dunes of the desert, and the cries of the terns become the cry of desert hawks. The sea-smells fade and the sun grows even harsher than in Random's Xanadu. Edan rides on, gaining the colors and smell, and sounds of the Deep Desert.
He lets the sun set, and arrives by moonlight. It is neither cold enough nor dark enough to prevent travel, but few are abroad at this hour. Edan is home, in the heartland of the Seven Tribes.
Edan sees no signs of people.
That doesn't mean a whole lot at this hour, in this place. If Edan recognizes the location already, he turns Aramsham towards the nearest nomadic trail or settlement. If he doesn't, he'll attempt to fix his position and/or pick a direction to travel until he starts to recognize the landmarks.
Edan finds where he expects a settlement to be. The landmarks mark a place the seven tribes often camp. The stars tell him it is late spring, and thus the wadi should have people and animals a-plenty.
It is deserted. Edan doesn't see signs that anyone has been here since the last storm, and no evidence that such a cleansing happened recently.
It is a long way to the West to the port towns of the coast, and a longer ride to the east, but the east was always the more civilized place. He could also head north to the coast or south into the deep desert and towards the cities of his grandfather's people.
Edan sniffs. The air doesn't smell right for the Land of Peace. Something is missing. And yet, he is sure he is home.
Edan frowns. Of all the trouble he was expecting, this wasn't it. There is time pressure, too, in that Edan eventually has to return to Xanadu. Wasting that time travelling won't do.
Solving one mystery will likely solve another. He turns his horse south, towards the deep desert, to see if the strangeness persists; if it does, or gets worse, it will be time for some Sorcery.
The deep desert is vast, but Edan is canny, and knows the way of it, and the way to go. It is not quick, but as quickly as he can, he find an outcropping from which he should be able to see the most remote outposts of the Efrit.
He finds barren desert, pristine and empty. There is no sign that people or spirits have been here at all.
Edan also knows he's about to bleed over into a natural shadow path to an adjoining shadow, so this is where he stops. It's a mystery, all right. The worst part is that he knows he's come to the right place.
The natural shadow path may be the thing that's missing.
Well. The next step is a little drastic, but necessary. Edan Parts the Veil, a smoking tear through the fabric of Space, so that he can ride through to a spot he knows. When Aramsham steps through, they should be on a long strip of rocky terrain near the ocean and within sight of the port city of his birth.
Edan rides a through the Veil and up to a promontory above the city, looking down on it laid out below him. The harbor is busy with steamships and fishing vessels, the docks are awash in cargo and people, the temple quarter is a hive of activity, and the city looks prosperous and vital.
Some enterprising people seem to have miniaturized the steam engines from the ships and installed them in carriages, and apparently also on bicycles.
Edan rubs at his jaw. "I don't know what to make of this, Kyauta. Either I'm in the wrong place, or significant time has passed, or things have progressed naturally from the defeat of the hamaaj." He ponders for another moment. "Or someone has come and altered the nature of this Shadow. Let us find out. Conceal yourself, like you did in Paris. We shall pretend to be a holy man, coming out of the desert. We shall observe this new world."
Kyauta conceals itself and Edan comes down from the hill. The town is bustling, but horses are not unheard of. People hardly give Edan a second glance. Edan does not see anyone dressed in the robes of the desert people, though.
The first stop will be the city center, where Edan can consult a calendar. Maybe a perpetual one at one of the great libraries, or at a temple. Finding out the year will be the first order of business, and he will go as far as to ask the date and year from someone, if he has to.
The Way of Peace Library is a place of grace and beauty and is very new, although apparently it houses the collections of three previous private libraries.
Edan has been gone for about a decade, perhaps a decade and a half.
[OOC: Things seem to have advanced from Late Victorian to Edwardian during his absence...]
The library seems to have a number of books on the war, and apparently the books are common enough that Edan could pick one up without going through the scholars. He recognizes the name of the author. He was a fierce desert fighter.
Well, this would definitively tell whether he's in a shadow of a shadow. Edan sits with the book and starts to skim, paying close attention to the material near the end. If at all possible, he wants to know what's happened since he left. And if, inexplicably, there's some kind of a language problem, he'll be using some quick Sorcery to help resolve it.
The book is straightforward and tells the war story about how Edan remembers it, although Haytham seems more prominent than Edan recalls.
The end is... odd. "Sarwar Al Edan Al Damurah (P.B.U.H.) was with us until victory was assured and he ascended bodily to Paradise, ending the age of the gnostic prophets. The fire spirits of the Deep Desert followed him, and sealed the ways to their fiery lands behind them.
"The Literalists expect Al Edan to return, bodily, but the Council of the People have declared that he is to be taken as a symbol and message from The Merciful One and the Merciful One cannot be expected to honor his people to such a degree twice and claim that he is in every candle flame and hearth-fire and that all should learn from his example."
"The people of the cities accepted the Way of Peace and the tyrants of the cities who had twisted the teachings of the Merciful One were pulled down from their high places and left in the desert to survive, if the Merciful One allowed."
It goes on in that vein for some time. It seems that the seven tribes have entered into city life and are at the top of the social order, but that each city is far enough apart that the tribe that settled there has little conflict with the others...
Peace be unto him, indeed. Things have seemed to have worked out about as well as could be expected. Edan thumbs through a little more slowly, to see if he can verify where this Haytham has taken a leadership position; in other words, he tries to find out what tribe has taken over this city.
Haytham is an elder of this very city! [OOC: It's why his book is such a good seller here...]
After that, before presenting himself to the city elders, his old tribesmen, it will be time to visit his mother and siblings.
The building Julnar the Firemaiden and her children lived in is gone, and has been converted to some kind of a theater. Tonight's presentation is called "The Tale of Al Edan and the Wondrous Lamp".
Of course it is. Edan sniffs and smiles. It is not so important to track family down yet, and he was about to find someone with a better idea of Mother's migration than anyone else. Edan rides on to the city center and the city government, making an effort to meet with Haytham. Edan will identify himself as al-Alayan, the Searcher, and will say that he is an old acquaintance who seeks audience.
al-Alayan is told that Haytham is holding court in this very building in a short while. If he has business before the city or a grievance to air, that is the venue. If the matter is personal, it may be possible to send him a note to read after his work is done for the day.
The courtroom is large, and has a large bas-relief image on the back wall, showing a stylized lamp with a flame coming out of it. It is a symbol of the tribes of the deep desert, not of Dar es Salaam as he remembers it.
The courtroom is starting to get full.
That's a big question. Should Edan reveal himself to the city and become the center of the whirlwind that would follow? So little would be accomplished afterward. No, the best approach would be to stay subtle.
"It is personal," Edan says, "but he would want to read this note as soon as possible. Tell him it is a matter of the desert. I will leave the decision to you."
The note is simple.
::Haytham al-derin col, lieutenant of the al-Ghanii,::I am returned for a short while, as I promised so long ago. I am both pleased and concerned by what I have seen in my absence. Attend me as soon as you may, for I have need of you and my time here is short.::
::Edan ibn Bleys ibn Oberon al-Kehribar al-Salaam al-Djinn-al-Ghanii::
In a few moments, a bearded man comes and sits cross-legged at the front, facing those waiting for their chance at justice. There is a murmur in the crowd and they, like Edan, are surprised it is not Haytham sitting in front of them.
A man comes up to Edan and bows. He says "The jurist asks that you follow this one to his office, Lord."
[Assuming Edan does follow...]
Haytham looks to be middle aged, and likely to age into a wiry and old man, if nothing stops him from doing so. "Lord Edan, it is you!" He rushes over, and then stops. "I would touch you and see that you are solid, and not a vision or a dream. Is such a thing permitted, or is it blasphemy to even question you? I do not know if I am honored that you came to me or cursed for needing to prove to myself that such an honor could fall upon myself."
He used to be less... philosophical.
Edan crosses over to clasp hands with Haytham, keeping the disappointment from his own face. He should have known they would make him into a Mahdi, it was one possible outcome, but it hurt to see friends and acquaintances turn into...worshippers. That was the word for it.
"I am pleased to see you, old friend," he says. "It is good to see how things worked out so well for the tribes, as good as we could have hoped for. I would stay and see how the hand of the Merciful One has worked in our favor, but I am afraid my time is short."
Haytham seems unsteady, not with age or infirmity or drink, but on the verge of being overwhelmed with emotion. "Your time was already short, but each moment is precious. Some said you would only return if the need was dire, or the Ulema had departed from the Way of Peace, to harrow us from the desert as we once harrowed those who lived here before us."
He takes a deep breath. "Lord, there are those who say you are a myth, that you never walked among us as a man, but are a symbolic representation of the power and correctness of the Way. It is hard, even for those of us who were there, to counter them, for so much of that time seems like a dream..."
Haytham trails off, not really knowing what else to say.
"I am the man you knew when I left," Edan says. "No more, no less. You knew I had a mother, and brothers and a sister. I have traveled to the land of my father and returned, with news and a need of my own. But I cannot stay."
Haytham looks troubled. "That is unfortunate. There are many here and now who could use your guidance, including myself. I am a Mahdi, but I struggle with the issues the people bring. And the ulema is not as undivided as one would wish it were.
"If what you need is a loyal man, who once fought at your side, to accompany you and fight once again for the crystal clarity of right versus wrong, you need only give me the slightest hint that one would be welcome and I will follow you once more.
"Or anything else you require, Lord Edan, but perhaps slightly less joyfully."
"I told you before I left that I would find my father. I traveled far, to other lands, other worlds, and I found him." Edan hesitates; how simple should he make this? "The king in his land is his brother, my uncle. Old enemies of the Family are rising up. I have sworn fealty to my uncle in that distant land, which is known as Xanadu. I will fight for my family, and I seek those who would fight with me." He folds his hands. "I will not lie. It will be very dangerous. Worse than the hamaaj."
Haytham looks relieved. This may be the best news he has had in a number of years. He seems younger and tougher just thinking about it. He's still middle aged, but he's not as soft as he might have seemed to be a few minutes ago.
"I am sworn to follow you to the Nine Icy Hells if need be, and I will never renounce my vow. How many of the band do you need? Or do you form a larger army?"
"I'm looking for at least two thousand, horsed," Edan admits, "to be camped outside the city of Xanadu. "Mobile, light armor, firearms and archery. The core of the force will be a newly-established order of knights, who will train and be housed at the edge of the city. They will be the leaders. They will learn how to fight the tougher foes."
Haytham looks confused. "We have no knights. It is a foreign tradition and one that places obligation to a lord above obligation to The Merciful One. The vestiges of the old knight and feudal lords who invaded the coast of the Land of Peace were swept aside by the Armies of the Faithful. You might need to recruit outside the Land of Peace if you want knights.
"However, I can happily show you much better technologies for war. The aeroplane and the steamcar are far superior to the old horses. Few these days even ride, and the streets are full of wondrous cars, trains, and bicycles. I can have the local garrison show you their deadliest forces."
Edan nods at what he's told of knights here; he knew what the answer would be. He shakes his head at the mention of the rest. "Friend Haytham, it has come time to shock you with the first revelation. The army camp will be in forest or beach or open areas. We will need horses to navigate them all. And there will be many places that I will take you that those wondrous cars and trains and guns won't function. And sometimes, the bicycles."
Haytham smiles. "I am still your man, for I am resolute in all my vows, but I know of few who will follow you who are not your faithful guard."
He looks at Edan. "What other revelations do you wish to shock me with?"
Edan smiles and leans forward. "One thing is that some of our countrymen are already in Xanadu. They were at sea when the black storm came. If we ever find a way to establish a permanent trade route, the King of Xanadu is open to trade."
Edan's smile becomes brittle. "Now, our enemies. The first is a monastic order with centuries of experience and arcane use behind them. The other is a race of warriors who can manipulate time itself."
Haytham's smile matches Edan's. Edan feels as if the man is getting younger just being in his presence, or if not younger, bolder and with a larger scope of vision. "Trade is good, Hadi, for no country that is starving can send warriors to fight. At most they can send mobs. But that is for the rear-guard to organize.
"As to your enemies, they seem particularly dangerous, especially if they join forces against us. There are philosophers of war, in the lands to the east, my Lord, who would counsel that they should be manipulated to fight each other, and then our forces could fall upon the weakened victors. Can this be done?"
"I'm not going to say it's impossible. However, I would say that the motives and the thinking of the Moonriders of Ghenesh - they're the time-altering ones - may not be what anyone else would consider 'normal'. The Klybesian Order - they're the other ones - they're not our friends, and neither side would be easy to manipulate. It would be...difficult." He waves his hand, gesturing around them. "I meant to ask this earlier. What will happen here, if you and others of the tribe leave? Will the government stay in place?"
"All of the seven tribes are scattered, and I do not know if the peace and promises of mutual support we made some years ago would hold if we took the entire tribe away from any one city. We have a good accord with the city people now, and my assistant, who is administering justice tonight, is not of the tribe.
"So, possibly, it is unclear how long peace would hold if we stay. Lessons of Peace are amongst the hardest, especially when one is confronted by the clear advantage of war."
"The entire tribe would not leave, anyway," Edan says. "As you said, technology has leaped ahead, and many riders...are not, any more. We shall have to take the risk that the uproar will be at a minimum. Well. You know this new land far better than I. Send the word, and draw those that would ride with me to this place. And when this is done, and I could not say when for sure, I will lead back those who would return here. I am confident, however, that most would want to stay in this new land of my father's kin."
He sits back. "Now is the time to ask the other question. Where have my mother and my siblings gone?"
"None know, War Leader. One day, all the fireborn were gone. Some say they took the magic of the world and left. Others, that they could not stay when something else took away the magic. Only a small few of us remember the fireborn and most believe that they did not exist, except as a vast metaphor to make a point about the nature of man and his desires and skills."
He looks glum. “Not far from here stands a house that no man has entered in a good decade. Once it housed a noble Marid, a trader and scholar of this city. He was always somewhat of a recluse. Now he is gone, and the fountains and gardens of the Dey of Longtides are no more."
Edan looks upset. "She would not have wanted to go from this place. Despite her reputation, she rejected the afriti and embraced the Merciful One. My mother would not have left, unless there were no other choice." He shakes his head. "I will find out what happened. But I cannot do it now." Looking up, he says, "One of my cousins mentioned meeting the Dey. I did not know he had taken residence here. I would see this house. Perhaps a message was left."
"I did not know he was elsewhere. Perhaps your cousin came to this very city. However, if there is the possibility that a message was left, we should by all means retrieve it. Let me fetch guards, in case we need to force the door."
[Assuming Edan goes with Haytham]
The compound is shockingly exotic and completely ruined. Plants that could only grow in swamps fill the garden, and all are dead and being turned to dust and then nothing. The ground, once rich and brown, is cracked and parched. The house is octagonal, and several stories high. It is locked.
Edan looks glum. The house is a lot like what he felt last in Amber; a place that was slowly dying and turning to dust. He does stop the guards, though, before they force the door, so he can give the place the once-over with his Third Eye beforehand.
Edan looks over the house. It appears relentlessly bereft of any taint of Order, Chaos or Magic. On close examination, it looks as if it once had contact with magic, but that the magic no longer exists.
If the channels of magic indicate where water ran and magic kept it in place, the dwelling is a shell of what it once was.
"I don't see any traps," Edan says to Haytham. "It seems to me that what magic was once here, was to move water throughout the building and to the plants. That magic is gone." He steps aside to let the guards open the door.
The senior guard gestures to the junior one, who takes a few steps back and then throws himself into the door. It breaks open and sprays the entry hall in splinters. The building is octagonal inside, with no dividers other than the floor and ceiling. Perhaps there used to be, by magic.
The very sparse furniture is covered in drop cloths, and all of the easily movable pieces are gone. There is a stairs going up around the edge, but the room is dominated by an empty pool in the center, and a large gilt mirror on the far wall.
If Edan were to leave a message to someone, it would be through the mirror; so, he moves to that wall and checks the mirror out with mundane and arcane vision.
The mirror has words written on the surface, visible only to arcane investigation. It says "Break Me".
Edan's face breaks into a slow smile, white teeth flashing in a cinnamon face. "I can't imagine a more obvious trap. So likely it's not. Get your men back," he says to Haytham, "while I create some wards for myself."
And he does, creating flames that dance across his body as he creates a simple but powerful physical ward for himself, followed by an arcane one. Then, he reaches out to break the mirror with the hilt of his sword.
The glass breaks and flies out, much more of it than was held in the frame. The stream of it hits Eden's ward and spreads against it, encircling Edan in reflective material.
"This is my strongest spell, and the one I hope will last for some time," says a voice, deep and smooth as Edan imagines a Marid's would be. "I trust this message will reach a son or daughter of Amber, for only those should be able to hear my message. I am the Dey of Longtides, and a friend to Prince Bleys and the Arcane College of Gateway. I do not know what magical catastrophe has befallen this place, but I know that the power that sustained us here is fading, and more of my people and the djinn are retreating. My people to the deeps where they can go to the undersea kingdoms, the Djinn to the City of Brass.
"I know not where I will end up, but tell the King and Prince Bleys that I have found that the Asir are a sect of the Klybesians, and that they have plans in motion that I have not been able to discover, but that they involve Amber.
"I will try for Atalantis, and if I make it there, then Prince Bleys will be able to find me.
"May the Merciful One speed your feet to the King, and beware the Klybesians."
The message ends and the sphere of glass drops to the ground. Edan is surrounded by a circle of glass shards.
Edan has a rueful smile when it's all over. "Maybe I caused the lack of magic during the War of the Black Road, and maybe not," he says. He looks up to Haytham. "Did you hear any of that? Time is shorter than I anticipated, but the plan is the same. Word must go out to those who would ride with me, and we will leave with those who manage to make it in time."
"I heard nothing, war leader. For a split second you were surrounded by a sphere of light, then a ring of glass on the ground. Was there... something else?" He seems more curious than frightened.
"I will summon the band, and those who come, will come. How long do we have? Do we leave via ship or some other way?"
"We have a ten-day," Edan says. "Send the word out via telegraph, if those are the lines I see strung up. We will ride. I can ride to pick up a large group on the way out, if need be. And once we are on our way, we will find what we need as we go. Once I see how many we have, training will begin immediately."
"At once," says Haytham. He looks around. "If the Dey is not returning, we can use this place as a staging grounds. You may need to magically produce horses for some of the men, Master."
He turns to the guards. "Tidy the place, and lock it behind us."
Horses should be next on the agenda, as mentioned, but first Edan needs to find out what happened in the Dar-es Salaam. If he was indeed the cause for the loss of magic, then the drain would be traceable to the Gate he unknowingly created years ago. If it were another cause, then something else might manifest.
He sends Haytham onward with a promise to meet later in his offices. Edan bides at the House of the Dey, specifically close to the pool. He lights, then blows out, the end of a wooden stick he knows he's been carrying, and uses the burnt end to draw a rough map of the Land of Peace. A pinch of mud from a place that has lost its arcane power (scraped from inside the pool), a pinch of sand Edan carried in from the desert, a shard of the mirror that still carried magic within it. He places these things together, and begins to cast.
The items lift into the air as Edan casts, and spin in a tight circle. As he finishes, they arrange themselves in a straight line. It either points to the Northlands and the savages there, or it points to the deep desert. Edan thinks the latter is more logical.
That's about the best answer Edan can expect on limited time, so he leaves it there. A later visit, perhaps, will confirm the evidence and help him track his family, as well.
Leaving the remnants of his spell for cleanup, Edan heads outside. He may need some movement when he finds all the horse-buying probabilities in his favor, which is what he's doing next.
Horses are not for sale in the city, although they are on the outskirts. Edan can easily find animals for sale, but they are not war horses. Some are suitable for farms, some are suitable for carriages, and some are suitable for glue. It's as if the shadow forgot how to care for the things.
Edan can look farther afield, perhaps in other shadows, or he could buy and improve the horses that are here.
This...is abysmal. It was not a good thing to beat reality with a Sorcery hammer at every turn, but at least he had something to work with here. Going far out into Shadow might bring him horses, but likely more problems to go with them. On the other hand, using Sorcery to improve a horse won't help much when much of the training deals with how to fight in varying degrees of that same Sorcery. Maddening.
Edan pays for the horses, obviously disgruntled, and brings them back to be stabled with Aramsham. He checks to make sure there's nothing immediate he needs to deal with, then will go down to the stables to make his adjustments.
The news from Haytham is all that is good so far. A dozen man, riders from the deep desert, are answering his call so far. They will be arriving on various trains and ships tomorrow.
Haytham is also reminded that the brothers Brahim and Khalid are in jail in the Tadla in Beni-Mellal (about a hundred miles from you). He does not know the charges, but expects that they are true.
One could only hope the riders, men of the Deep Desert, were not as... lacking.
Aramsham can tell that the other horses are not up to snuff. He ignores them, for now. None of them will go near him.
Edan feeds and brushes down the horses, all of them, taking care to clip a few hairs from Aramsham's mane while doing so. After he's finished, he makes sure each horse is separated well from the others. He's not about to start a fire inside a stable with a dozen horses there, so he uses his learned technique of heat transfer to cast a spell. And if the horses get a little bit of Aramsham's bad attitude, so much for the better.
Edan sees results as expected. The horses seem more assured, but badly in need of training and competent riders. Edan no longer classifies them as 'hopeless.'
Edan nods, then, satisfied, and proceeds to head back to Haytham. A hundred miles is too far to travel quickly by horse; if there's not a flight to Beni-Mallal, he'll have to use sorcery.
[OOC: It's just over an hour by train, or no time at all if you part the veil and rip apart the shadow in a tiny way...]
Haytham suggests that Edan stay in his guest quarters tonight, and that those who will respond will start to do so in the morning.
Edan gestures his thanks for the room, but he has to decline. "I did not give your new trains enough credit, my friend. My work is not nearly done today. I must see this Brahim and Khalid myself, and return with them if I can." He frowns a little. "I do not remember them."
Haytham nods. He did not expect Edan to sleep, as much as he might wish otherwise. "You will need to hurry to catch the 8:12 train, My Lord. We gained many recruits as we marched on the cities. They were someone's cousins. They joined the bands not long after you left. By the end, entire towns were joining, and the war was in some ways not much more than a victory march."
Edan dons his cloak, and suddenly Shadows Are Lying for him again. "Either I will get them, or not, but in either case I will return tomorrow," he says. "I will see you then." Unless Haytham has anything else, he's off to catch a train.
"May the Merciful One be with you," Haytham replies.
The train is a mechanical wonder, a symphony of controlled fire, steel, and coal, lined inside with cushioned seats and a dining area (which is closed for this short trip).
The travelers at the station and in the train are a mix of prosperous businesspeople in the luxury cars and the poor in the front. The front is noisier and smokier, so it's understandable.
[OOC: Does Edan ride 1st class or 2nd? Does he try to talk to anyone?]
The station is not completely deserted, but few people got off at the stop with Edan, and the train did not stay in this station for long. Apparently the brothers are being held in a small mountain town, of the sort that has little custom after dark.
Edan will ride 2nd class, and keep to himself if possible. If it helps the persona of some deep-desert holy man, so much the better. But he will keep his ears open, if something is said by the other passengers he would have interest in.
There is little Edan would be interested in. The business of the day, the sights seen by sight-see-ers, a few who traveled to attend Haytham's court on personal or family business, a man who has successfully arranged a marriage for his niece with a family in Dakarai, tired children. Edan is given wide clearance, and occasional odd looks.
Once he's off the train and at the station, there should be a stationmaster...almost deserted, or not. Edan will look for this person and ask directions to the jail.
Edan is told that the easiest way to get into the jail is to be out after curfew, but barring that, he may head to the main street and it is across the street from the temple of the merciful one. It's empty now, except for the fanatics.
"May the Merciful One be with you," Edan says, and is amazed by how...empty that statement has become. It is not a pleasant feeling.
He walks to the described place, divesting himself of his hood; the Shadows no longer lie for him here, and his eyes are the molten gold of the afrit.
He marches up and confronts the guard or guards he knows will be at the entrance. "I am Edan ibn Bleys ibn Oberon al-Kehribar al-Salaam al-Djinn-al-Ghanii. I come to speak with ones you hold named Brahim and Khalid, who have ridden with the tribes of the desert."
The guard looks up from his post. "An I'm the favorite lover of the Amirah of the City of Brass! Begone afore I arrest you for being drunk and out after curfew!"
There is a commotion within.
Edan smiles. Sometimes everything comes together, and the years of study under what sometimes was the cruelest of tutors -- his father -- becomes worth all the trouble.
He takes a deep breath, and reaches out to grab the jamb of the doorway to the guard post. The stone bricks warp and melt under his fingers, leaving a burning puddle on the ground. The shout that issues from his mouth is increasingly deep and loud and overwhelming. Edan knows he's breaking windows and doors and walls and perhaps even cracking the foundation to the jail, but not eardrums; everyone in the building can hear every word with ease.
"THEN DO SO, SON OF TADLA-AZILAL, BUT ERE THE SUN RISES YOU WILL KNOW THAT THE DJINN-AL-GHANII HAS WALKED AMONG YOU," he bellows. "I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS. BRING BRAHIM AND KHALID BEFORE ME, THAT I MAY JUDGE THEM."
Then he adds, "Please."
The guard's eyes open wider and wider as Edan bellows at him. It's all too much for him. He faints.
The pounding on the bars from inside the jail gets louder.
Edan sighs. Typical, really. He searches the guard for keys, and uses them to get into the jail if he finds any. If he doesn't, it will be time for something more...explosive.
Kyauta, warn me if someone looks like they're going to attack me, especially from behind.
Yes, Lord.
The keys are on the guard's belt, the door to the jail is open, and inside is a single cell, with two men in it.
They see Edan, and both kneel, heads bowed. The man on the left. "We submit to your judgement, al-'adl." The seem afraid, but are not wavering.
Edan doesn't recognize them.
"You're it?" Edan looks past them, finds no one, looks a little disappointed, and adds, "Justice, then, is what has come to you. I have heard of two men who rode with the Seven Tribes, once, after the Black War. Two men that would wish to ride with me again. Perhaps. Give me your full names, and tell me the true tale of how you have offended Beni-Mallal. If you try to lie to me, I will know."
The first man looks up at Edan, meeting his gaze and appraising him. It is not humble nor fearful, and seems to be driven by curiosity. "I am Abdelmalik ibn-al-As ibn-Cid. My brother is Kulthum.
"Our crime was to accuse the brother of the wali of simony. Because our father was a foreigner from the northern frontiers, we were not believed, despite our righteousness."
Kulthum looks up as well. "We demanded trial by combat or trial by ordeal, but the scoundrels of this place would not do the honorable thing. They have the forms of true religion but are not mindful of the meaning of it.
"If you ride to spread the ways of the Merciful One, as you did in the legends we heard when we joined with the tribes, then the first cleansing that is needed is in our homeland."
Edan leans forward. "I have not heard everything. Your concerns would have brought you before a Qadi, perhaps even a Mufti. They would not have brought you to a cell. What happened, that you were detained?"
Khulum shakes his head. "All relatives of the Wali. Also, we resisted arrest."
Abd al-Malik looks grim. "We took this town, my brother and I were the first over the wall. They welcomed us with open arms and we were merciful. But we moved on and they let true religion lapse.
"Too many escaped the mercy of the knife, is my thinking."
"They fear us, but the war is long past and ended far from here. We almost lost hope that our brothers would raise a hand in our defense."
Edan represses the urge to sigh. He was so much like them, once. "I do not know what I can say to you that will not disappoint you," he says. "I have it under my power to free you from this place. I am your Sultan, and I never released any of the tribes from my service. You would answer to me. But..." and he pauses for effect, "I have no intention of staying here. I have a duty to my father and his brothers, and I have come to ask those I have fought with- bled with- to fight with me again. I ride into the lands of the infidel, mayhap hell itself, and I need men like you."
He straightens up. "But I cannot force your path. Come with me, and I will take you to strange and far places to fight against a great evil. Someday, you might return to seek justice here, but it will not be soon. Or, I will leave you here to seek what you want, in whatever manner you see fit. I give you the choice."
Abd al-Malik nods. "It is a quite a thing, to be given a choice. You honor us and test our virtue at once."
Khulum does not look away either. "We will be bold, then and accompany you, if you have need of us, Master."
Abd al-Malik replies. "If our names are remembered, let them say 'they followed the Sultan, to fight evil in the name of the Merciful One.'"
Khulum finishes the thought. "We will need arms, which we can take from the armory here, and a car as well."
Edan half-smiles. "We'll get what you need on the way, not to worry. Stand back," and he draws a smoking, burning line through reality at the level of the bars. Thus, in one motion, he Parts the Veil back to Haytham's offices in the city, removes the jail bars as an obstacle, and tells the laws of physics to shut up and sit down.
The two look around the judges offices, which are in disarray.
Khulum grins, grimly. “You said we would be going to fight in hell, Master. I did not think you meant directly.”
Abd al-Malik cannot quite stifle his laughter.
"Ohhhh-h," Edan says. "You should have seen it that time I got stuck at the top of a pyramid." He frowns then, wondering if somehow he was the cause of that, and looks around to see if there is another problem afoot.
"The people of al-Sharq say that their ancestors made the pyramids in reverence to the Merciful One, but they fell into iconoclasm and heresy and were eventually destroyed by the djinn and their Yikaria allies. The men of the west think the great monuments were built by the corrupted societies. No one will tear them down, because they fear the risen dead."
"When you fought at the top a the pyramid, was it also in a Doctor of Law's office, Master? I cannot imagine anything more terrifying than a Doctor of Law who has raised himself from the dead."
Edan laughs at this one. "Or a Risen yak-fiend. Or a Risen yak-fiend with a doctorate."
"My imagination is now enhanced. I can see this is going to be a long exercise in the containment of terror, Master. I hope we are up to the task," replies Abd al-Malik.
The office looks - lightly disheveled. As if someone were searching it for their own lost property. The chair cushions, for instance, have all been lifted, but no one has sliced them open.
Haytham comes in, wrapping himself in a robe. "Master! I thought you took the night-train to Beni-Mallal!"
Edan bows in response. "I am sorry, Haytham. I did take the train. I took a more direct way back." He waves, airily. "There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of doorways here. Everywhere. Doors that lead to... many other places. It is how this world was created, you see. The Wise can see the doors and open them. Rarer still is the man who can create a door where there was not one before." He pauses. "Even if you cannot use Sorcery yourselves, I will teach you the ways of it. For that, my askeri, is what you will learn to fight." He decides to broach the next subject, then, and purposefully glances around the room. "Did something happen?"
Haytham blushes. "I have misplaced my djannbiya. I thought it might be in here. It is all I have that I wish to take with me."
Khulum looks at Haytham appraisingly. "You should probably also take padding for your horse's back, Young Pigeon."
"Not a bad idea, Elephant Face. I'm pleased you did not get yourself hanged."
"I have exercised my rights as Sultan and have taken these two into my custody," Edan says. "It is good that you two remember each other, for I have taken the responsibility. I would be most displeased if they violated that trust." He's smiling as he says it. Sort of. But the smile fades. "I have not seen your side-knife, I am afraid. Being that you all need to be armed, and are the beginning of this little band, I would present you all with knives myself. But I would not so lightly dismiss yours, if it is an ancestral blade."
"It acts as a reminder to me, Master, that I, too am an instrument of the Merciful One as the Djannbiya is my instrument. That there is mercy in the blade and that is mercy in me. I have killed no man, save with it.
"But it is a new campaign, and a new dedication of myself. I like the idea of becoming a new man, and learning again the mercy that comes from the instrument."
Abd-al Malik smiles. "Well said, if long winded. Are we all staying as your guests, Haytham?"
Haytham smiles back, "There is room here for few, and we might be mobbed, if people were to realize who visits me. The tribes have been told to gather at the estate of the Bey of Longtides, in his abandoned house and garden."
Khulum nods. "I recall the place. It is no longer haunted by the marid?"
"He is gone," Edan says. "As are most, if not all, of those who carry the power of the elements. Then again, the hamaaj are gone as well, so one should take the good with the bad." He removes his own dagger and adds, "If we had a little fire in the hearth over there, I could create these blades now, before the others meet us tomorrow."
Haytham looks worried. "Do you need natural fire, Master? That one has been converted to gas."
Khulum looks around. "There's plenty of fuel on the shelves. We could just burn the office down."
"There is an old hearth in the great room. People seem to like burning wood for warmth better than gas."
Abd-al Malik shivers. "Can't imagine why..."
"A gas fire will be fine." Once it's going, he heats his own knife in the fire over many passes, and when he's finished he's suddenly holding four knives, all glowing cherry red with the heat. He leaves them, hissing and smoking, on the hearth. "This is the beginning," he says. "Where I direct, in the name of King and country, may these knives follow."
Abd-al Malik's eyes shine in the reflected firelight. "Truly, we are your knives, Master, and will follow where you direct."
Khulum and Haytham nod in unison. The moment seems to be notable.
Before anyone can respond, someone starts pounding on the door downstairs. Perhaps more of the band has arrived.
Edan looks to Haytham for that one. "It is your tent," he says. "I would prefer our location remain a secret until tomorrow, unless this is someone you can trust to be silent."
Haytham nods, once. "I will deny them entry, Master." He heads down the stairs.
Khulum looks after him. "In fairness, were I summoned to this rat's nest of a town to follow our beloved Sultan, who had been missing for a decade, I would also expect to see the Sultan."
Abd-al Malik looks amused. "If they break curfew, you may need to break more of the band out of gaol."
Edan ponders this for a moment. "The fire is still on," he says, and waves a hand towards it. "Let's see who's down there."
Two men are arguing with the housekeeper for admittance. Behind them, Edan sees two motorized bicycles.
"Skander and Slim," says Haytham. "Master, you may remember them. They were the closest brothers."
Edan stops himself from scratching his head, and nods instead. He wonders if Benedict has these moments and just fakes it so well no one notices. He hands out the knives, for he's not doing this again, and nods again to Haytham. "It's all right, go ahead and let them in."
Haytham goes downstairs and lets them in. The housekeeper retires and the two turn to Edan.
Khulum stares into the flame, "This is amazing, Master. We have recorded images, but do not yet have the knack of making them live. What did he mean 'the closest brothers?' Closest to who?"
"To whom," replies Abd al-Malik, "and he probably meant closest to here. Those bikes didn't look up to the desert, so they're probably in a nearby costal town."
Khulum nods. "Is he going to bring them up here?"
Abd al-Malik says "The Master did not say to do so, so I wager he does not."
"Gambling is a sin. Five talents he does," Khulum replies, not taking his eyes off the flame
"Done," says al-Malik. "Done."
Edan opens his mouth, and then closes it again. "Now I feel obligated not to interfere," he says. "What you see here, this is Sorcery that affects the principle of Space. It is not a recording. The sound waves from their mouths and the reflected light off their bodies travel through the fire as if there were no Space in between."
Khulum stares into the fire and says, "I imagine no one in all of the Land of Peace can understand, Master, but it seems you do not wish to call it a sign or a miracle, so I shall not." Khulum grins, seeing Haytham walks up the stairs with the two sword brothers in tow. "You owe me five talents," he adds.
Abd-al Malik hands over the coins. "When I lose, I also win. More brothers will be needed still."
Edan smiles, and speaks long enough for the newcomers to hear, too. "It is the essence of why I have come," he says to Khulum. "Look around you. See how things have changed, even in the last decade. Things that you might once have called miracles, unexplainable, now you understand. Steam trains. Your recordings. I used to say the Merciful One had always had left these things to be learned. If you are to fight with me, you must learn more, much more. You will see that these things," he waves at the fire, "they are merely tools. You must learn how to use them, how to fight them. For all too often, they are the tools of the enemy."
They nod, as if mesmerized. Including the two brothers in the doorway. Three, counting Haytham.
"That is not to say I do not need your skills," Edan continues. "You might ask, 'why not pick someone with more advanced technology?' but there are many situations where these new tools will not work. I am counting on it, in fact. I still need men skilled with the knife, the sword, the long gun, the horse. I can think of no better place than here, to find such men."
Skander nods. "Master, in all those, I am skilled, although I have used my skills but little recently. It has been a decade or more since I sat a horse, much less fired a long-barreled gun from one.”
Slim nods. “So much of ... what we did, who we were. Slipped away, like a dream. Do you know there are those amongst the younger generation who openly laugh when you tell them of meeting the Ifrit in the deep desert?"
Edan nods at that. "Things have changed more than I would have wished them," he admits, "and those who will come will not be as young as they once were. At least the young men will have heard the tales of the recent past and will believe once they see with their own eyes. I haven't been gone too long for that, I hope. I find it probable that others will see us travel and wish to join; for them, you will be the teachers." He smiles, a little. "As for the rest...I know, I know. Your skills will come back to you. It needs training, much training, and that will start tomorrow. Starting with your riding skills, no doubt. The horses are ready in the stables."
Haytham nods. "The morrow comes soon, but not a one of us would willingly leave your side, Master. It is as if we are only awake now, for the first time since you lef-- since the end of the war."
Edan nods, and if his skin looks a little darker in that moment, perhaps it is a trick of shadow rather than embarrassment. "Let us sleep, then, and head to the Dey's residence early on the morrow. If you didn't bring anything for travel, worry not - we'll find what we need as we set out from there."
Skander looks at his brothers. "We will keep watch, as we did in the past, over your room as you sleep, Master. All who arrive before you awaken will be sent to the Temple of the Merciful One to pray and meditate and return at sunrise."
Haytham says "I will show you to your bedchamber, Master."
Edan does relent on one decision he's made: before he retires, he makes two more knives for the newcomers and makes the same vow with them. If they are successful in getting more troops, he's going to need all the captains he can get...
Last modified: 2 January 2016