by L. Itram and Ben Yackley Main * Story * Setting * Cast * Illustrations * About * Comment

Chapter 20: Full Circle (Posted on 9/25/03 & 10/11/03 )

Four mages slouched outside the door to the Dean's office.

"Doesn't this bring back memories," grumbled Viola. "Ye'd think he'd be overjoyed ta see us." Some back corner of her mind -- the tiny part that wasn't mentally pacing back and forth across her skull -- was wondering why the last few minutes always proved to be the hardest to wait through.

"He can take his time," answered Luen. "He doesn't have to worry about some delinquent Tximisti dripping on his welcome mat." Outwardly, he was the most relaxed of the group; Viola looked ready to bite someone's head off, Kinto paced in nervous little circles and Kai slouched in the background as though unconsciously attempting to make himself as small and unnoticable as possible.

Kinto stopped pacing. "Yeah, well, next time ya getcher books in late, I wanna be there t'see it!"

"I never return my books late."

"O'course not," added Viola. "He never reads 'em."

"I'll have you know -- " Luen's self-defense was cut short as the office door opened and a voice emerged from the depths.

"Kinto, Viola, Luen. And Kai. Please come in."

"Well," asked the large figure behind the Dean's desk, "and what brings you to Featherglass?"

"We have completed our quest," announced Viola, as Kinto stepped forward and presented the Shard.

The Dean stood and maneuvered around the desk to receive it. He was large enough to tower over everyone except Kai, and an ominous charcoal-black in color save for the yellow scale-covered hands tipped with sharp claws. One such hand carefully plucked the Shard out of Kinto's fingers and held it up to the light.

"Very well done. Not only have you achieved the object of your quest, but -- " he tilted his head to regard them with glowing green eyes, set on either side of a large hooked beak. "-- you have returned relatively unscathed." He turned his back to them, bending over to open a small cupboard in the corner of the room. "I trust you found your travels educational."

Viola frowned at the large leathery wings which were all she could see of the Dean. "More than ye might imagine."

Kinto just frowned. This particular Dean might look like a run-of-the-mill (if lanky and somewhat scarred) black cockatrice, but there was something decidedly creepy about him. He just wanted to get the interrogation over with and leave.

"Really? I have quite a good imagination." He closed the cupboard and turned to face the four students. "Tell me about your travels since we last spoke."

It took the better part of two hours to do so. By unspoken agreement, Viola and Kinto stayed as close to the truth as possible; if Luen had been doing his job properly, the Dean would already know the whole story anyway. Four storytellers, however, meant quadruple the clarifications, interruptions and contradictions.

The Dean, of course, had his own questions, but the four could not figure out any underlying pattern to them. He seemed extremely interested in Estevas and Glyphic Mountain, interrupting more than once to elicit further details about the visions. He also seemed inordinately curious about Zeph's past. When the story reached Grandegear, however, he sat almost entirely silent. At the mention of the murdered swordsmith, he simply nodded.

"I heard the news, yes. Lucas will be missed; he was one of the last of a dying breed."

Luen involuntarily glanced at Kai, remembering the nearly identical comment made during their interview with Johannes Silverfox.

Just as the story reached Levend, the Dean stood up. "Excuse me a moment, please," he said and stepped out of the office.

"Wonder what that was about," said Kinto.

"Probably remembered something more important," said Luen, slouching in one of the uncomfortable visitor's chairs littered about the office.

"Perhaps he wanted ta verify something?" suggested Viola.

Kai leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I don't know about you guys, but this Dean gives me the creeps."

Luen just shrugged. "Never met a cockatrice before, huh?"

"Don't be silly. I had one as a lab partner. Black and yellow, just like him. But the creepiest thing Thula ever did was put pink bows on our creatures."

"That's not th'same one that liked Johan, was it?" asked Kinto. "Don' tell me that's not creepy!"

"Ye'd soon see creepy if tha Dean heard ye talkin' like that," commented Viola. There was a sudden silence. "In any case, let me explain Verguston when he gets back. I dunna want ye gettin' yer street names mixed up again."

The door opened and a new figure wearing the Dean's robe entered. He looked, to put it bluntly, as though someone had covered his previous form in deep blue feathers. He sat down again and turned to Viola without any comment or apology. "Viola, how did you spend your time while waiting for Kinto and Ms Alcandor?"

"I ... I was touring."

"Touring? I see. On Maglatan? It's quite the popular tourist spot."

"No. Touring Grandegear."

"I see." There was a pause, which Viola felt obliged to fill.

"'Tis a very historical city."

"So is the island."

"Aye, but little o' historical interest is left on tha island. As ye said, t'is mostly a tourist spot now. Kai went there."

"Indeed. Kai, how did you find Maglatan?"

"As beautiful as everyone says it is. Their plant life ... is quite remarkable," he trailed off, unnerved by the Dean's stare. "I wouldn't mind going back to study it."

"I'll keep that in mind. Do continue - you were telling me how you tracked the thief to Levend."

"And so," said Luen, "we came back here. End of story."

"And quite a story it was. You have obviously learned -- though not without a few mistakes and setbacks -- how to comport yourselves as mages and how to deal with problems in a constructive fashion." Viola and Kinto cringed, sensing a slight emphasis on the adjective. "I am therefore quite happy to declare the four of you qualified mages." He smiled at Kai's surprise. "Yes, you as well, Kai. Although not originally part of this plan, you have proven yourself admirably and your own skills perfectly complemented those of your teammates. My only regret is that I cannot take credit for including you in the first place."

"Thank you, sir. That's quite generous. Um... about my research...?"

"Students are not the only ones who do research. I'm sure Professor Voynich will be happy to continue as your advisor; he gave you a glowing recommendation when last we spoke."

"He did? Wow!"

"Now that that's taken care of, all that remains is the official ceremony, which will take place in three days."

"Ye dunna waste time, sir," commented Viola.

"I'm sure at least some of you would like to get out of here as soon as possible. The ceremony will be small, obviously, and sparsely attended. But, if you'd rather wait until the end of the term to graduate with your classmates..." he paused meaningfully.

"No, sir!" "No thank you!"

"I thought not. In that case, go pack your books, send out invitations, get drunk, or do whatever else you've been waiting to do for the past half a year."

"Three days," said Kai, as they left the office. "And here I thought I'd be here three years."

"That's what happens when you hook up with people like us," boasted Luen.

Viola patted Kai on the arm. "There's always graduate work."

"Well, yeah ... don't get me wrong, I'm not upset or anything. Just... three days. Wow!"

"An' this time it's fer real," added Kinto. "We don' have t'worry 'bout Auli stealin' our Shard again."

"I do wonder what happened to her," said Viola.

"She'll probably turn up here sooner or later," answered Luen, trying to sound nonchalant. A small sigh slipped out before he could stop it. "Probably a good thing I'll be gone by then."

The silence lasted until they left the Hall of Wisdom.

"So..." said Kinto. "Let's celebrate. I like that gettin' drunk idea."

"At three in th' afternoon?" said Viola.

"Fine, how 'bout food, then?"

"Food's good." said Kai.

"Blue Barrel?" suggested Viola.

Luen made a face. "Last time I went there, somebody threw an undead fish at me."

"Ye must be jokin'. I've been eatin' there fer years and ne'er seen a single undead on tha menu."

"Special 'f th' day, mebbe," Kinto grinned.

"Oh, fine." Luen tossed up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. "As long as someone else walks in the door first."

"I'll have to catch up with you later," said Kai. "I need to tell my professor I'm back."

"Now that y'mention it, I better go find Roan an' Miera an' Zhan. Assumin' they aren't off on a find-or-fail quest 'f their own."

"Well," said Viola after Kinto had loped off toward the center of campus. "I suppose we can just start tha party without them."

"I... uh... also have some things to take care of," said Luen quickly. "Why don't I meet you there?"

Viola sighed. "What, do I smell bad or somethin'? Fine, I have me own business t'attend to. I'll see ye later."

Luen waited until she had stalked around the side of a building before he slipped back into the Hall of Wisdom and made his way up the stairs to the Dean's office.

PART 2

(...continued)

When he got to the Dean's office, the door was slightly ajar. Being the naturally suspicious sort, Luen bent to peek through the crack, but quickly jumped backward as a voice came from inside.

"A powder? This is celestium we're talking about." It was a woman, and one who sounded vaguely familiar.

"I do realize that," answered the Dean. Or a dean; judging by his voice, it was still the blue bird-man.

There was a pause before the woman responded. "I wouldn't dream of questioning your resources, sir."

"But you question my judgement?"

"Sir, you did ask ... Mineral powder allows for a larger immediate concentration of natural essence than would be possible otherwise;" as she slipped into a sing-song 'lecture hall' tone of voice, Luen's memory dredged up a name and a face. It was the instructor from his geomancy seminar, the class he'd been most successful in due to his studious habits of sleeping through lectures and memorizing the chapter the night before a quiz. "-- however the overall long-term effect is weaker because we cannot draw on the inherent stability of the substance. Furthermore --"

"So you're saying it's a one-shot deal."

"In essence, yes. And a wasteful one, at that."

"And the alternative?"

"For a maximum effect -- may I? Thank you. If you embed the celestium in a double Feghari circuit like so ..."

Luen tapped his tail impatiently as the dry discussion of theory continued. I suppose that's what he wanted with the Shard, some sort of...spell-stabilizing thing. Whatever. It'd be incredibly interesting if I didn't have better things to worry about right now.

Viola wandered through the library, a copy of Thomas Goldenedge and the Singing Sword tucked under one arm as an excuse if the Librarian found her. At least I have a clean record; she mused, the worst he can do is slobber on me. The books were shelved according to some obscure and archaic system (or, she privately thought, according to the Librarian's whim), but she eventually came across what she was actually looking for: the wall of old Featherglass yearbooks.

"But can you build one?" asked the Dean.

"That would depend."

"On what?"

"Begging your pardon sir, but so far you've given me nothing but hypotheticals. 'Can pure celestium be used to increase the stability of a magical field?' you ask. To which I say, 'Yes, this is the method one might use.' But that means nothing. There are at least half a dozen alternatives which require less time, effort, danger and esoteric materials."

"Such as?"

"Well... I do know of a petrification technique, which --"

"No." Decisive.

Luen peeked through the crack in the door. The geomancer was standing by the window, the light of the Dean's desk lamp reflecting off her goggles. Of the Dean himself, there was no sign.

"Why not?"

"I have my reasons."

She frowned, and Luen fancied he could see her eyes narrowing suspiciously behind her glasses. "The only reason I can think of would be if the field were the result of cross-chromatic layering. Too many conflicting spells, in other words."

"What would be your diagnosis for such a situation? Hypothetically." The Dean obviously wasn't giving anything away.

"Dispel the entire mess and send the idiot who did it back to freshman training."

"And if that's not an option?"

"Who knows? I'd have to -- One would have to," she corrected, "examine the phenomena directly."

"I'll see what I can do for you."

Aerizusa caught the implied dismissal. "Thank you," she said, turning toward the door. After a slight pause, as though she was steeling her nerve, she added, "Although ... I don't quite see why you'd want to maintain something which is causing you such problems."

There was silence. Then the Dean said slowly, "Your practitioner's thesis project... I nearly forgot."

She tapped the rim of her glasses. "They're very handy for giving examinations. To students, as well as other things."

Luen scooted away from the door and tried to look nonchalant as the young instructor stepped out.

"Oh, hello, Luen. I hear you won't be retaking Introductory Theory after all."

Luen grinned back at her. "Unfortunately not, professor. I really enjoyed the labs." He slid into the Dean's office before she could respond.

"Hello again, Luen. Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing. I just had a question for you."

"Yes?"

"Who is Davro?"

The Dean turned back to the diagram on his desk. "You would know that better than I, Luen. You're the one who's been off adventuring."

"You recognized the name, though."

"Did I?"

"Yes." Luen folded his arms, trying to give the impression that he wanted no part in these verbal games and would stand there all day if necessary, until he got a straight answer.

"Davro is a very common Maglatanian name."

"Can't be that common if I haven't heard of it before."

"For instance," continued the Dean, "the curator of the Featherglass museum is one Davro Sedoya."

"Is he? That's an interesting coincidence."

"It's also an interesting museum. I trust it will remain so for quite some time."

"Kinto's the one who blows stuff up, not me. I just want to find out who this guy is."

"Good luck, then."

"Good afternoon, Kai. What can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering, sir ... when we mentioned Davro, you seemed to recognize his name."

"And you want to find him?"

"I just feel like there are some loose ends here. I'd like to find out why he wanted the Shard in the first place."

"The only Davro I know is the curator of the Featherglass museum. A Shard of Heaven would no doubt be a fine addition to his collection, but he never mentioned wanting one."

"Maybe it wasn't for the museum ... assuming it's the same guy."

"Maybe. Let me know what you find out."

"Sir?"

The Dean looked up from his dinner. "Good evening, Viola. I take it you have a question for me?"

The Dean looked out his window at the shadowed courtyard below. Sure enough, there was Kinto, hurrying toward him. The young Tximisti was also looking around warily, as though afraid to be seen on such an errand.

Viola skipped from one shadow to another, transporting herself into doorways and onto rooftops as she headed down the main street of campus which started at the stairs of the library, shot out through the triangular campus gates, and intersected Estrainder Street, where the museum was located. She had never mastered the art of invisibility, but, nine times of out of ten, stealth, speed and her peculiar talent -- as well as a sharp pair of ears -- worked even better. Even so, she had taken the added precaution of wearing a hooded cloak to cover her light hair and hide her face.

Now what would a museum curator want with a shard and a grindstone? she mused, I doubt he's just going to add them to his collection. And curators generally collect old, important artifacts - they don't make new ones. She peered down from the roof of the Blue Barrel, idly wondering if the others were celebrating inside -- and what they would say once they found out why she'd missed the party. It doesn't really matter, she decided, switching back to her original line of thought and continuing on her path, My concern is not with what he is going to do, but with what he has already done.

Tucked into an inner pocket in her jacket was a small packet of folded papers which the Dean had given her before she left his office.

"These were found among Lucas' possessions," he had said, after a slight hesitation as though he was - for the first time - uncertain of his actions. "Like you, he was quite a student of pre-Grandegearian history, though he would not have made this known to his neighbors, naturally."

They were duplicates, of course. The Dean - or possibly the Engineer General - no doubt had the originals along with the rest of the man's notes. Flipping through the pages, Viola saw rough doodles of a slight, four-armed female figure, as well as extensive notes and design sketches for an extremely complicated clockwork sword.

"Given your own academic interests, I thought you would want a copy."

Though no swordsmith herself, Viola recognized several of the sketches as being based on the Kashendan and Grandegearian weapon designs familiar from history book illustrations. The more elaborate drawings seemed to be a combination of the two, yet so stylized that it was not obvious unless one knew where to look. There were also a lot of complicated notes involving gears and springs, though what those would be doing in a sword she could not imagine.

"Kashendan history is not a popular topic of study around here, either," added the Dean after Viola had thanked him. "Keep that in mind, whatever you decide to do with those notes."

So he had taken me seriously after all, Viola thought as she turned a corner, slipping out of sight of a late-night carriage. If her resolutions had not already been formed when she stepped into the Library that afternoon, this would have done it.

Would Davro feel any remorse for Edgegrinder's murder? she wondered. Would he claim the man as useless or unimportant compared to his "higher cause," thus giving Viola ample excuse to carry out her revenge? Or, even worse, would he not have considered the matter at all? The snuffing out of a venerable, knowledgeable, and overall unique man -- an artist in a city of machines, a craftsman in a city of mass production, such a thing must not be allowed to go unpunished! Someone slightly more introspective, might have wondered if Viola's planned vengeance was really, as she claimed, in response to the loss to the world of a valuable and important individual, or if it was simply because Davro had done away with someone she had only just come to know. Of course, if someone else had mentioned this to her, she would have brushed it away as irrelevant. A murder had been done, and vengeance must be carried out. Edgegrinder's family - if he had any - did not seem inclined to take up the matter, and from what Viola had seen of modern Grandegear she doubted anyone else there would. So it was up to her, then. Her alone.

Except, she noticed, landing silently on top of a shed adjoining the museum, she was not alone. Three cowled figures were approaching the back door from different directions, and one of them looked decidedly familiar.

Kinto strode down the street behind the Blue Barrel. A few fellow students recognized him, but he didn't run into any close friends - which was too bad, because he'd already decided on a cover story: he was going to the library because the Dean had given him extra assignments to make up for the missed semester. Actually, he was rather looking forward to seeing the expressions on their faces. It was such an un-Kinto-like argument, but they ought to know that being threatened with expulsion and kicked out of school for half a year does wonders for one's study habits.

A long black cloak was folded under one arm; it would conceal his bright orange self once he was inside the dark museum. No way it's gonna hide my identity, though. There's, what, three, maybe four Tximisti on campus not counting half-breeds and we're a pretty obvious shape. 'Sides, anyone who wears all black at night is up to no good ... I wonder if anyone ever told Viola that.

"Hey, man. Ya goes ta da Barrel?" Kinto couldn't remember the woman's name; something really odd with too few vowels and too many Ns. She was a Levendish-Aezite hybrid by birth, but grew up in Maglatan, where her outrageously flamboyant costumes probably made up for not looking quite as weird as the locals.

"Mebbe later. Got studyin' t'do."

"Oh yeah. Hear da Dean booted ya tail." She tilted her head to one side. "Since when ya use a shield?"

"Huh?" Kinto had become so used to the weight on his right arm he'd forgotten that it was a relatively new addition. "Since I got my tail booted. Don' want anyone doin' that again."

She laughed. "Smart boy. Good luck wi'da studies. Ya wanna practice, ya lemme know."

"'kay. Seeya."

As a matter of fact, Kinto was avoiding the Blue Barrel because it contained the only three students on campus who wouldn't buy his cover story. But I can just imagine the looks on their faces in the morning when they find out I took care of Davro. He smirked at the thought, then turned serious. After all, oneupmanship wasn't the reason for his midnight visit in the first place. The guy's a menace to society, it's kinda obvious. The others may not care -- they did their end of the bargain and they got what they wanted. But I swore to Uxul that I'd use my powers to protect and not destroy. I'm supposed to be the shield for people who can't defend themselves. If I can't do that, then the diploma doesn't mean much. He grinned at a thought, Not that the freshman around here really want me telling them they're defenseless. They'll find that out come exams.

He slipped the cloak over his shoulders and headed around to the back door of the museum. Everything was dark and silent. The sentry on the roof made no move as Kinto glided silently to the door itself. He was bending over to test the lock when he heard a shuffling noise behind him, as of someone trying very hard to walk quietly and completely failing. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed an enormous horned figure in a black cloak looming out of the shadows.

As Kai strode quietly down the streets of Featherglass, he found himself puzzling -- not over what he was about to do but over how he would explain his actions to Viola and the others afterwards.

"This wasn't your quest to start with," he imagined them saying.

But it is now. Even the Dean admits that.

"But the Dean also said we were done. We brought back the Shard, we get our magehood. The End."

No, thought Kai, No, it's not. There are too many loose ends and too many unanswered questions. Clorin, Zeph, I guess we'll never hear from them again. I just hope they're doing okay. But we never found out why Davro wanted that Shard in the first place, and if he was willing to go to the extremes he did to get it, the answer can't be anything good.

"So ye're off ta save tha world, are ye?" Kai winced mentally as the question posed itself in Viola's mocking tones.

No...I'm off to find out what's really going on.

"And?"

And... I'll figure out "and" once I know. But I can't just leave not knowing.

"It's not your problem."

Does that matter?

He realized how unconvincing that would sound. If this curator really is our Davro, then whatever he ends up doing may very well be Featherglass' problem. You will probably be long gone, but I'll still be here.

"That's not really why you're doing this, is it?"

No....not really.

He reached Estrainder and turned the corner. The low bulk of the museum loomed at the end of the block. Time to go undercover. Kai waited until the coast was clear, then stepped into a side alley. A moment later he emerged, wearing a bulky black cloak borrowed from a dormmate. The original owner was of much thinner build but Kai's lack of wings made up for his broad shoulders and somehow everything got covered. He pulled the hood over his head (ripping two ragged holes in the top in the process), hoping he didn't look too sinister, and tiptoed around the museum, toward the back entrance.

He was so intent on being silent that he didn't notice the cloaked figure on the roof. The one by the back door was a bit hard to miss, however. Okay, this is going to involve a whole different set of explanations.

Luen drifted down the maze of winding alleyways that circled the campus like the tangle of tentacles on a jellyfish. Most of the streets were dark, but the town of Featherglass was awake, even at this hour, and he detoured more than once to avoid the well-lit doorways of taverns and the occasional shop. The deep hood of his cloak theoretically hid his face, but Vadhans, while more prevalent than Tximisti, were not so very common that the appearance of one at this hour of night would go completely unremembered under later questioning.

Not that there will be any reason for later questioning, he thought to himself with a grim smile. I'll go in, take care of Davro's little schemes, and come out. No problem.

He'd had a sneaking suspicion from the start that the story which had begun with Auli in Almanaque would end with Davro in Featherglass. Well, not quite from the start, he privately admitted. The thought had come to him during his unsuccessful week of hunting in Ertset. People, he realized, have a habit of magnifying unusual events out of proportion, multiplying them in their minds until one impossible co-incidence becomes ten -- one lightning-struck tree becomes a vengeful sky-god, one Instilled bird or fox a monster-infested forest. Maginaria weren't "all over the place" in Ertset, and neither, he realized were summoning belts, illusion-ensorcelled swords, geomancy-powered boats or, for that matter, Shards of Heaven. Someone with the resources to toss away the first three for the sake of gaining the fourth would have to be either a mage or extremely well-connected in those circles. And what better place for such a person to set up their base of operations than the city of mages itself?

A museum curator, huh? That would explain the hodge-podge of different devices; he probably has very little magic of his own. Sparing half his attention to the shadowed street in front of him, he replayed the scene in his mind for the umpteenth time since Ertset. How he would descend upon Davro's workroom just as the man was putting the finishing touches on his new toy with the stolen grindstone. How Davro would use the Unrelenting Blade to defend himself and his fiendish plans, killing whomever might get in his way. While Luen had few illusions about his physical strength he knew his swift reflexes and sharp tongue had saved his life more than once. He saw himself keeping out of the reach of the swinging blade, taunting his opponent into making that single, costly mistake. But Davro would not give in so easily, of course. Unarmed and magicless, he would still have one final trick up his sleeve: an ornate amulet around his neck or on his belt, glowing gems surrounded by intricate runes of summoning and banishment, runes which would permit anyone -- mage or not -- to call upon and control the creature bound to them.

And that, thought Luen, willl be Davro's last mistake. Under his cloak, his fingers flexed, recalling the tug of the chalice as it locked onto Nhaal, breaking the weakened spell that had linked the thaumavore to Auli's -- or, more accurately, Davro's -- crystal and allowing Luen to take the maginaria for his own. A summoner is nothing if he has nothing to summon, but I stole one once before, so there's no reason I can't do it again. And Davro will help me do it. It was this thought that had kept him calm and stoic in the face of repeated disappointment in Ertset. By the end of tonight, he would have his magehood, his standing as a summoner, and (assuming anyone else ever found out) a darn impressive reputation, and all thanks to the man who had taken so much away from him.

Lost in his thoughts, it wasn't until he was nearly at the back door of the museum that he noticed the three other cloaked figures. Luen would never have admitted it, even to himself, but sometimes his imagination was just as vivid as Viola's.

"Kinto!" hissed a familiar voice. "What are you doing here?"

Kinto squinted into the shadowy cowl. "Kai? I was --" explanations flitted through his mind before he seized upon the obvious. "-- gonna ask ya th'same thing. Nobody wi'any good reason t'be out at night would wear onna those big cloaks," he whispered.

Kai attempted to push his hood back, then stopped to untangle the fabric from his horns. "More like nobody would wear one of these without a good reason. They're incredibly stuffy -- what?"

Kinto had turned to stare up at the roof sentry. "If yer here...then zat who I think it is?"

"Wha --" Kai looked up, just as the figure vanished from the roof and appeared on the doorstep between them.

"Aye, 'tis me. I was ha'minded ta slip by while ye were occupied, but gettin' in is gonna be trouble enough wi'out three bumblers t'avoid."

"Three?" asked Kinto.

Viola pointed over his shoulder. "Looks like tha team's back t'gether again."

"I certainly wasn't expecting a welcome party," grumbled Luen, pushing back the hood of his cloak.

"So was th'party that borin'?" asked Kinto.

Kai shrugged. "I didn't go."

"Nor I," said Luen.

"Huh." The elementalist sounded surprised. "Got on good 'thority that there was one, tho."

"Aye," agreed Viola. "Tha place was hoppin' when I passed it. P'raps we oughta stop by after."

"Whatever," grumbled Luen. "Let's deal with Davro first. That is why you're all here right?"

"No," deadpanned Viola. "We came ta see tha historical artifacts. O'course we're here fer Davro!"

"Or at least to stop his plans," added Kai.

"B'fore anyone else gets hurt," agreed Kinto.

"So what are we waitin' for?" asked Viola. She spun around, cloak trailing after, and grasped the doorknob. "Hm."

"Well?" asked Luen.

"'Tis locked."

The door was not only locked, but barred from the inside -- as Luen discovered when he attempted to pick the lock -- and spelled against magic -- as Kinto quickly found out. Viola slipped around to one of the barred side windows, Kai trailing after.

"How long would it take to teleport everyone inside?" he asked.

Rather than answering, she disappeared -- and reappeared almost instantly. "Ow..." she groaned, clutching her head.

"Are you okay?" Kai put out an arm to support the transpositioner.

"Curse Davro and 'is paranoia, he put a barrier spell round tha whole buildin'... Oogh." Letting go of Kai's arm she spun around and stalked back to the doorway. "Where's Kinto?"

"Checking the --" Luen was interrupted by the arrival of the party in question.

"Front's locked, too," Kinto announced.

"Did you hear something?" asked Kai, trailing after Viola.

"Apart from me headache?"

"I might have something for that ..." he trailed off, fumbling with the latches on his bag.

"Later. Wha'd ye hear?"

"I'm not sure. Sounded like it was coming from the basement." He lead the others back to the Viola-proof window. A faint scraping and clanking came from below the ground, along with...

"Water?" said Viola.

"Probably a sewer pipe," commented Luen. "They're incredibly noisy this time of..." he trailed off, looking at the others.

"I saw a manhole on th'way over. C'mon." Kinto sprinted back around the building.

"Ye have got ta be kidding," griped Viola, peering down into the dark chasm which had already swallowed two of her companions.

"You're perfectly welcome to go back to the Blue Barrel and wait for us," snapped Luen from below.

"You wish!" She sighed and looked back at Kai. "Guess we have no choice."

He nodded sympathetically. "Ladies first."