Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,

Sorcery in the Black Candelabra [17 Lage 4385]

Mirrored from Sythyry.

In Zascalle’s quarters with Thiane and their children were any number of old clothes, strands of fur, cast-off toys, and assorted whatnots. Well, “any number” being rather less than I expected: they had taken a large part of their possessions with them. Notably left behind was Zascalle’s dearly-beloved if rather small collection of glass beads, spread prominently out on a table, as if to say, “I am a Rassimel’s dearly-beloved collection, definitively not with the Rassimel; therefore the Rassimel is not far distant and shall return soon, so be not suspicious, visitor!”

Well, Zascalle must be serious about her plan (whatever it is) if she’s sacrificing her dearly-beloved collection to carry it out.

I took a selection of suitable oddments for arcane connections, collected in suitable ways, and brought them to my laboratory.

They were no longer arcane connections to Zascalle, Thiane, Ochirion, or Feralan.

Me: “Well, that’s a bit disturbing. Not only are Zascalle and family nowhere to be found; they have taken the effort and spent what is surely a substantial sum of money to ensure that the straightforward means of magically communicating and locating them will not work. And a substantial sum of money it is — for, as I observe the shards of the spell that did it with the Eye of Mirizan and Melizan, it is a spell cast with substantial force by a Khtsoyis mage casting There Is None Who Knows Thee four times, and that, if I am any judge, will not come cheap. It is almost as if Zascalle had a great deal of money, and were willing to spend a fraction of it to ensure that she kept the rest.” I always talk to myself like that … or at least, I record it in my journal as if I were.

Me: “I do believe I know a trick worth two of that.”

Me: “And what might that trick be, O Sythyry, wise in the ways of magic?” This is more properly Phaniet’s line, but she was doing actually useful things elsewhere rather than her usual jobs in the lab. (Actually she’s more likely to tease me than flatter me, but when I am alone, I can pretend.)

Me: “As you well know, Sythyry, an arcane connection snipped by There Is None Who Knows Thee may be unsnipped by a suitable application of Healoc Magiador, especially with an admixture of Tempador, and — by some coincidence! — I am quite good at all three of those arts, being a guild healer, and, well, not to put too fine a point on it, a deep-mage.”

Me: “But of course, Sythyry! Unfortunately, magicobabble technobabble theorybabble spellababble, so the lesser connections available from Zascalle’s quarters are likely to yield inferior results!”

Me: “Ah, you have an excellent point, my good Sythyry. Fortunately, Ochirion was kept in this very room for treatment, and I have splinters of his bones, still covered with his dried blood, the residue from his second surgery.”

Me: “Great staring gods, Sythyry! Why did you keep such a thing?”

Me: “Because, Sythyry, the young Rassy was kidnapped not so long ago, by a monster who is still at large in this very ship, and having a solid connection to him might save time and trouble should the monster do so again.”

Me: “Extremely foresighted, Sythyry!”

Me: “Perhaps. In the last case, it would not have helped much … this time, we shall see.”

Me: “Then by all means let us commence!”

And, in a matter of moments, I had a very solidified arcane connection to Ochirion, and a spell that would keep me aware of where he was for the next month … if he were within about a hundred and twenty miles.

He was not within a hundred and twenty miles.

Me: “This is going to be troublesome.”

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