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A New World: Memories

First: A New World
Previous
The Letter

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I am still loyal.

Kael sniffled.  Joaon had been loyal to her for so long – and to learn how long he had been here, without her, and still loyal, still so desperately loyal — and here he was, in this world.

She put the potion to one side and sniffed a few of her ingredients.  She had questions, and only a few of them she’d find standing in the middle of her potions-workshop, this fairly good imitation of her workshop.

She walked slowly down the back stairs, her fingers trailing along the block walls.  How much work she’d put into this place.  In her day, only someone like her — or like Carrenonna — could make a building like this.

She remembered this block, how she had poured the potion for it while splashing something at an attacker, something they thought was acid.  It had blinded them, yes, but only for an hour, while it showed them visions of another world, a world in which they had not made the choices they had.

She’d managed to keep that one from falling off the edge of the tower, and Joaon had walked them, unresisting, down to the dungeon.

The dungeon was easy enough to escape from, built that way.  Kael wondered what it looked like now.

Well, that, at least, she could find out.  She paused where there had been a trap and saw the letters written in — what was that, some sort of ink visible only to her eyes?  It seemed to glow, and yet if she looked at it from her peripheral vision, it was gone.  An interesting potion!  

This place is only some of what it once was.  Be careful, be mindful.  I hope it can be restored.

“Interesting.”  The handwriting was, once again, Joaon’s.  She wondered if he had left messages all over this building and, if so, if anyone else had intercepted them.

She knelt down and ran her fingers over the location of the trap.  It had been disarmed, but not removed, and it had been done so awkwardly, not by a skilled trap-finder but possibly by someone panicked after having fallen into it.  Not Joaon, then.  He had found too many of her traps the hard way, back when her sense of humor was more quirky than kind.

She could activate it, but it would take several potions and a few days of work.  There were other things she could be doing in the meantime.

She kept going down the stairs, getting a feel for what her home had become.

“Where is that girl…”  She could hear him through the wall.  Oh, the reception room.  She opened the hidden doorway, wondering if – yes, bless Joaon, he had kept the curtains, the way the door looked like one more window, making the passage truly secret.  

“I swear,” Mr. Vibius was muttering, “something about the look, or the girl, or something.  Every time we get a new one of those, they just hare off in twenty minutes.  And then I have to find another one who has the look, and who can make it look believable when they-”

Kale stepped out around the curtains. “You called for me?”

She didn’t bother with what he called her Begone you Pesky Mortals look, because he had no reason to fear her – yet.  Instead, she tried something she had not tried in a very long time, even before she fell into a millenium-long sleep.  She tried a coy look.

He looked nervous.  She probably needed to work on that look a little bit. “Where did you come from?  You can’t just pop up on people like that!”

“Oh, it’s this curtain.” She smiled broadly at him. “This is a lovely room here,” she looked around.  Her Reception Room looked much the same as it had when she last left it.  The long, thick curtains covered everything except two windows, giving the impression that all the curtains covered the same sort of view out onto – well, onto a city, now.  “I was exploring the building, as I had no tourists at the moment.  There’s a lovely back staircase, if we wanted to sneak up on someone at some time, or if someone needed to get to the potions room in a hurry.”

“Well, don’t sneak up on me.  You’ll give me a heart attack that way!”

As if she was reading it, she heard under his words:

I swear, all the Kaels are creepy, but this one is something else again.  

“I’m sorry, Mr. Vibius.”  She really didn’t do well with apologetic expressions.  She was going to have to work on that.  “You were looking for me?”

“Oh, well, I didn’t know what you were doing, and it looks like we have another group coming in.  How did the first one go?”

“I don’t really know how to judge that,” she demurred.  

“Well, if they want to stop in the gift shop, they’ve done well.  If they want to come back, they’ve done well.  This place doesn’t run on smiles and good feelings and your potion fumes, you know.”

Well, technically, it runs on a behest, but I don’t run on smiles.  

“Of course.  Tell me, when would be a good time for me to go off downtown? I have a couple errands I didn’t get to run this morning…?”

“What?  Your lunch break, of course.  Which isn’t for two more hours.  Now get back upstairs and look creepy, and make sure to suggest that they go to the gift shop.  That’s on the fourth floor,” he offered helpfully.  “We wanted to put it down here, but the behest said there was only so much we could do, and the fourth floor was empty, so.”

“Fourth floor.”  She nodded.  She could look at that on her way back up to her potions lab.  She had never seen a gift shop before.

 
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Next: Made in the Itikem Peninsula 

A New World: The Letter

First: A New World
Previous: Myths

⚗️

The potion was sweeter than she remembered it, and for a moment, Kael worried that she’d made a mistake with an ingredient. Impossible.  It might have been a thousand years, but to her mind, it had been barely more than a nap.  She could no more have forgotten the ingredients than she could have forgotten her own name.

Her eyes cleared and she went for the note, glad she’d thought to put it away before the tourists showed up.

The letters shimmered and twisted until they were legible and understandable.

Lady Kaelingrade,

I do not know what potion you wrought, but you wrought it well indeed.  The entire tower slept for quite some time.

Under the words, she seemed to read: I wish you’d warned us.  There were people I would have liked to say goodbye to.

This note can only be read by you, but as a precaution, I wrote it in the script I first found a hundred-plus years ago, when I returned.  You’ve shown signs of stirring, lately, and I think it might finally be time for you to awaken.

Finally.  You were closer to the smoke, of course.  That’s why you slept so much longer.  But I could have used you, so many times, since we came to this strange place you delivered us unto.

I have set things up to give you a place to learn about the world before you decide what you must do.  Do not mistake me: I and the others are still loyal to you.  But a man can not stay in one place, these days, and pretend to be his own uncle, or simply never age and claim to be one of the Great Ones.  Belief is too thin and people are too willing to mob someone, looking for secrets that are not mine to share.

I am still loyal.  I am still loyal.  I am still loyal.

I will return.  I hope, if you have awakened and gone out into the world by then, that you leave me sign in the same method, or another similar method. Until then, beware others you meet who seem like you.

You’re not going to be strong enough, not yet.  You need me.  You’ve always needed me.

Kael blinked.  She was reading – was reading three lines into each line: the letters, which she could not read herself, the meaning of the words, and the meaning behind the words. What had Joaon – no.  Something in the potion had been a little bit off.

She was going to have to find a way to grow and collect her own ingredients again.  She was going to have to find staff again.  And Joaon, who had always been more than staff.

He’d been back a hundred years.  Some part of her bristled.  He could have woken her!  He could have – he’d lived for 100 years?  Without her?

Well, he’d always been more than staff, more than an apprentice. The potion for long life was not all that difficult a one, if you knew where to get the ingredients.

How did you take an apprentice, these days?

No, the matter at hand.   She looked back down to the letter.

The set-up I’ve created for you will restrict you a bit, I’m afraid, but it provides you with cover while you get used to the world.  These people are foreigners, or we would have called them that in our time.  

You have no idea how hard it was for me to adjust, without that, how hard it was for all of us, and I hope you never do know.  It is our job to make your life easier, after all.  It has always been our job..

She blinked twice, and realized she was blinking away tears.  “Joaon… oh, Joaon.”  

I assume you understand how it is that I am still alive, a hundred years after coming to this place.  I have always been very attentive.  And you had already kept me alive long past my allotted time.

This is more than that.  I had grandchildren, once.  Now I may, somewhere, have descendants.  Do I dare to try the potion that would tell me?  And if my line has died out…

Do be careful: there are ingredients today with similar names to the reagents of our day that do something completely different. I have attempted to stock the stores with only those things that you will recognize, but sometimes those I put “in charge” of the tower have their own wishes.

How they can manage not to believe in proper potion work, while standing in your Tower, I will never know.

I hope I see you again soon.

I hope I see you again.

Your loyal servant,

I am still loyal.  I am still loyal.  I am still loyal.

Joaon of the Red Rushes

 

A New World: Myths

First: A New World
Previous: Carrenonna

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“That is… a very good question.  But I suppose the answer lies in the fact that Kaelingrade is said to have disappeared, isn’t she?  Whereas Carrenonna-”  She trailed off, hoping someone knew.

“Kaelingrade vanished without a trace, tower and all, in a cold spring one day during the Aterpian Wars,” read the father. “What are – oh, those were some of the wars before we landed, weren’t they?  Skirmishes?”

Kael raised her eyebrows at the man. “Skirmishes?  You are talking about battles when thousands on thousands of people died.”

“But they didn’t have real technology here, did they?  Before we, I mean, before colonists came.  That was a long time ago, but I know there wasn’t anything like modern warfare.”

“Oh, come on, Dad.”  The older daughter rolled her eyes.  “Just because we can drop bombs and blow up entire cities now doesn’t mean that we’re superior or something.  And besides, they had magic back then, real magic, didn’t they?”

“Aria, what did we say about-” Continue reading

A New World: Carrenonna

First: A New World
Previous: Artle

⚗️

Kael struggled to hide her horror.  The cliff.  They had…  done something to it.  Something about an edict and a gift?  How did you give away a cliff?  Or power it? Power it away?  She needed to drink this potion quickly; there was far too much missing in her vocabulary.  “They did what to the cliff?  The large one into Artle?”

The clever daughter looked at Kael sharply.  “You have to have seen the bridge.  If you flew in, it is big enough that you can see it from space.   And if you drove in, well, almost everyone comes in from Artle. The train, the bus – did you come in from Carron?”

Kael had the sense from the way the girl shifted topics that she was being thrown a lifeline.  She took it.  “Carron, yes.”  She was going to have to look it up.  “I’m sorry, it is just something that I read about – that is.”  She was supposed to be in character.  She cleared her throat and winked at the girl.  “I know not of these places you speak of.  A bridge over the River Meadon?  A place called Carron?  Is that Carrenonna’s Annex?”

The girl leaned forward.  “Caronn- Caronn, say that again?  Please,” she added hastily, presumably before her mother could tell her to be polite.  Or her father, who seemed very engrossed in the leaflet.

“Carrenonna.  Carrenonna’s Annex, a tower much like this one with several buildings around it, making up a small village of sorts.  It was granted to Carrenonna in the same year that this tower, Kaelingrade Torrent-Step’s Black Tower, was built, and it stood such that on a clear day, you could see one tower from the other.”

“There’s no tower in Carron.”  The older daughter had heretofore been engaged with her tablet, taking notes of some sort.  Now she looked up and turned the tablet so that Kael could see a map – no, a tower’s-eye view of a large town or a small city, rendered in shining glass.  “See?  This is Carron, and there’s nothing taller than maybe six stories.”  She smirked, and considered Kael.  “In the terms of the age, Lady Kaelingrade Torrent-Step, the entirety of Carron reacheth not to the top of your secondary annex.  Which has way too many stairs.  You should consider an elevator.”

Reacheth?  Wait, elevator? Something which raised, that was easy enough. “But then…”  She glanced out the window.  Quite some time had passed.  “Then Carrenonna’s Annex is fallen to dust, and likely Carrenonna with it.”

“Well, uh, Carrenonna, if she lived the same time as Kaelingrade – I mean, as you – lived a thousand years ago.  Even if the old people back then were like Methuselah or something, their towers weren’t.  Right?  I mean, this place is a replica and all.”

Metuselah!  Kael struggled to maintain her composure.  “It would take a great deal of work for a tower to stand for a thousand years, yes.”  She’d thought Carrenonna had such work in her.  Perhaps she hadn’t.  

“So, I do have a question.”  The daughter turned the map back towards her.  “Why’s that one named after Carrenonna, then, and this place isn’t named after you?  After Kaelingrade, I mean.”

 

 
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A New World: Artle

First: A New World

Kael allowed herself a small smile, even as she tried to puzzle that one out.  Hospital?  Hospes?  Something about guests.  

“Oh, that can’t be true, they wouldn’t open the place and have it be dangerous!”

So a hospital was somewhere for  – people who had been hurt?  Perhaps a place to rest after people had been taken by a sleeping potion.  There had been quite a few sleeping potion traps in those lower levels. Continue reading

A New World: Tourists

First: A New World

She had almost finished the potion when the first “tourists” arrived.  A “tourist”, it appeared, was a person with a flashing glass tablet held in their hand, clothing that did not seem appropriate for any time or era, and a habit of touching everything.

“It says here,” said the older woman, “that this is where Kael created her potions.  And this woman here is represents Kael.  She didn’t like visitors much,” she added in a stage whisper.  “Hello, Kael.”

Didn’t like visitors much.  That was an interesting way of putting it.  But between the fact that she was playing a representation of herself and what Mr. Vibius had said, Kael knew how to act.  “Shhh,” she hissed.  “At this stage, you may disturb the potion, and if you do that, I may test the next potion on you, and I doubt you’d like that one.”

The younger daughter – not a woman yet, not even thinking about being a woman yet – stepped right up to the yellow line of tiles someone had installed. “Why aren’t you using the big cauldron?  It’s got something boiling, too.”  She spoke in a curious but quiet tone and ignore her parents’ attempts to pull her backwards.

“The big cauldron can wait. It is merely a distraction potion and will not be hurt by a little extra boiling.  This one, though, this one requires careful attention, and for that I require a smaller cauldron.  See, with this cauldron, I can see to the bottom.  Careful, don’t breathe in the fumes.”

The girl stepped back another step and glanced over her mother as if looking for permission or reassurance.  

“There won’t be anything here that’ll hurt you, honey, it’s a museum,” her mother tutted.  “They’re not allowed to do anything dangerous.”

That was the sort of opinion that could get the girl hurt or maimed.  “Actually, this is my potions-room, and in here, things could often be deadly, not just dangerous.  Even a mild and curative potion could end up burning the nostrils and giving one visions or headaches.”

“Like hatters,” the older daughter put in.  “Breathing in mercury fumes.”

Kael only followed a few of those words, but the meaning was clear enough.  And the mother was tutting.  “I can’t believe-”

“When this place opened,” the father put in, reading from a booklet, “several guests had to be hospitalized.”

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Next: http://www.lynthornealder.com/2017/09/05/a-new-world-artle/

A New World: Potions

First: A New World


Joaon. The letter shapes, the strange way he ended certain letters – she could not read this, not yet, but she could recognize his handwriting, even in a script that had changed immensely.

She needed.  Well, she needed potions.  She needed a whole bunch of potions.

It was time to see what this pretend-workroom had been stocked with.

And what this pretend-cauldron was going to do.

She started going through the cupboards, one through one.  All of them were labelled in this strange script – not in her handwriting, or in Joaon’s – but they were also labelled right after that in her own language.  There she was, tongue-of-the-maiden and kisses-on-eyebrows, her favorite flowers.  They had grown in the rooftop gardens, once upon a time.  But if she was “forbidden” to go up there, it was unlikely anyone had maintained them.  She would have to find all the right ingredients again. Continue reading

A New World: Kael-Room

First: A New World

The Kael-room. That was an interesting turn of phrase. Kael knew this tower like the back of her hand; she had been living her for nearly a century before – before she lived here for quite longer in some sort of suspended animation, she supposed. A hundred years. The tower came with a grant. Now that was interesting. Who had provided such a thing? How had the tower’s presence been explained? She was fairly certain much more than a hundred years had passed. Buildings she could see from the windows looked far beyond the current – the current-when-she-slept abilities of normal humans, and there hadn’t been enough wizards in the world to raise so many towers. And yet many of these buildings appeared to be well over a century old, if the aging signs had not changed utterly.

She paused to look out a window. The world around her tower was so much more crowded, and the people in so much more of a hurry, than anything she remembered from before. All those people. Were they heroes? Were they adventurers? Who would come to a seat of the muses that would need to see a Kael – a Kael, not the Kael, and even Kael could recognize the phrase Back Stage. Continue reading

A New World: Touring

First: A New World

Kael did not sit for long. It was not in her nature to just sit – or she probably would have had far less trouble with heroes and the like. Instead she stood again and brewed several potions in quick succession.
Her ingredient stores were a bit low. She was going to have to venture out into – into that – and see what she could do about it. But first, first she needed a few things.
A potion of Cloak of the Road coated her in clothing appropriate to her station in this place. She looked down at the sleek, snug clothing and approved. This world, whatever it was, had nice clothes. Better than robes, she thought, or the things that people had worn when she’d first reached adulthood.

Her stairs were covered with dust, too. The whole tower looked as if nobody had touched it in – no. No, there in the dust were footprints. They were covered with their own layer of dust – not new, but not all that old, either.

Interesting. Perhaps the spell had been weakening. Perhaps someone had wanted a potion.

She stepped out into the main foyer of her tower and was surprised to find velvet ropes and, even more surprising, a man in clothing not all that dissimilar from her own. He was wearing a placard over his heart that called his allegiance the Kaelingrade Torrent-Step Black Tower and his name Friedrich Vibius.

Well, Kaelingrade Torrent-Step was her, or close enough for the strange shapes of the letters. And this was her Black Tower. “Friedrich?”

“Mr. Vibius,” he corrected. “Are you the new Kael?”

“That would be me,” she agreed. “What, ah.” No, she didn’t want to ask what is this place. “And you are…?”

“I told you.” He frowned impatiently at her. “I’m Mr. Vibius. I run the museum here.”

Museum. That was interesting. A seat of the muses, here in her Tower? Well, she supposed it had slid itself out of time. “How long has the museum been here?”

“What, are you new to the city?”

“That’s a very good way of putting that, yes.” She lifted her chin and gave him her best You Lousy Person Stop Giving Me Trouble look.

He was completely unfazed. “Don’t try that Kael stuff on me. It might be great for the tourists, but it’s not going to do anything on me. I’ve seen seventeen of you girls come and go, and none of them had the ice to chill me. Nothing chills me, girl.”

Tourist. It couldn’t mean one who turned on a lathe, that was silly. Maybe one who – hrng, she was going to need a potion of languages, she supposed. Everything was close enough to be both comprehend-able and baffling. “I’m new to the city, Mr. Vibius. How long has the Museum been here?”

“A hundred years, give or take a week. It is dedicated to Kaelingrade Torrent-Step, I’m sure you knew that much, and our grant insists on certain things, one of those being that the room below the top of the Tower always have a Kael – that’s why we’ve hired you, not because we like the look – and that the very top of the tower always be off-limits. We don’t even clean it, and don’t even think of going in there. You catch kids trying it, you give them your best Why Are You Bothering Me Pesky Mortals act. Yeah, that look. Room, board, and appropriate robes, all back there back stage. Now get robed up and get up to the Kael-room; we’re about to open.”

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A New World, a beginning of a story

Kael drifted off in a haze of fumes.

It hadn’t been exactly what she’d intended to do, but the Blessed Mugwort and the Watery Cress together ought to create a long and dreamless, ageless and still sleep, even if she’d been aiming for more of a quiet watching throughout the ages. Something must have gotten in the mix – probably that last batch of adventurers.

Kael dreamed of a time when such idiots didn’t come traipsing through, just because her tower was black, or just because they’d heard that she was generous with the potions that they needed.

She closed her eyes. This hadn’t been meant to put her to sleep. It really ought to bother her, she thought.

But it was such a nice dreamy sleep. And she couldn’t hear the stupid adventurers anymore.


She woke. She felt stiff and hazy, a little bit lost. It had been a very nice dream, the sort of dream where people came and pounded on her door and couldn’t get in. It was the sort of dream where the elves who had scorned her needed her help yet again, and she wasn’t there, so she didn’t even need to say no. She could just… not help, no guilt, no problem.

She rubbed her eyes and found they were covered with a thick layer of dust. Dust. That had meant to be a nap, even if a long one, not-

Kael sat up. Her tower room was just the same, stones where they belonged, potions covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. Everything was exactly as she had left it, except…

Except the walls were covered in a haze. The window was covered in blue smoke. The doorway was completely obscured.

Well, then. She had done it, if even by accident. She had taken her tower out of time and out of space.

The problem was, she supposed, why had she woken up at all? She had put no end time into the spell, because she had expected to end it herself when she was ready to move on.

She stretched and stood. Her body felt the same. Her robes looked the same – they had not mouldered away, although the dust had worried her for a bit. Imagine sleeping on forever while everything rotted away from her! Imagine rotting away herself while she slept!

She wandered to the windows and door, but the haze wouldn’t clear. Well, she wasn’t a wizard for nothing; she was going to have to clear the spell herself and hope that an unknown-length nap had not rusted away her skills.

Seventeen bottles later, one lit flame, and an incantation that sounded right and felt a little like nails ripping through her throat, she had eliminated the fog. Pleased and yet worried, Kael walked to her window to look over the countryside. She pushed away the heavy, thickly-spelled curtains.

She was greeted with grey and silver, white and black, noise and more noise. Her tower overlooked dozens and dozens of other towers, some of them nearly as tall as her proud and wild Black Tower. There were people everywhere, dressed in strange fashion and moving quickly about.

Kael sat down in her favorite armchair. How long had she slept?

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