“Calto?” Amanda asked, looking over to the gnome. “What are you thinking?”
“We found two of the sets of books that the League of Wizards had copied and translated from the original Tinean books,” Calto explained. “Using those, we were able to piece together a number of interesting rituals, and although we have only tested a couple small, safe ones, it would seem that they are viable magic.”
“So, you found something that might be useful here, I presume?” Harmony asked. “Teleportation or something?”
A broad grin spread across Calto’s face. “Better. Time travel.”
Harmony blinked. “What?”
“Demon’s balls,” Yennik muttered.
“You can’t possibly be serious,” Silver said. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that could be?”
“Of course,” Calto said. “But how will we ever know if we can do it if we don’t try?”
“Gnomes,” Silver sighed in exasperation.
“This is insane,” Sedder said.
“This is absurd,” Kithere agreed.
“Do you really think it can work?” Sarom asked.
“It’s very likely, actually,” Amanda said. “I have full confidence in our reconstructed ritual being capable of manipulating time in some way. I cannot guarantee that we would be able to pinpoint when to go very precisely, and can offer very little possibility that we could make it back to the point in time that we started from.”
“That would strike me as a problem, yes,” Keolah agreed.
“To the Abyss with it,” Hawthorne said. “Let’s try it. What have we got to lose?”
“everything?” Keolah said.
“Nothing was ever accomplished without taking a risk,” Hawthorne said.
“I like her,” Calto said with a smirk.
Harmony put a paw on her face. “Are you suggesting going back in time to before the point when I scattered the Tinean books around the world in order to retrieve them then?”
“Precisely,” Amanda said.
“Wouldn’t it be simpler just to travel around the world and go diving in volcanos?” Harmony asked.
“Cousin, you know as well as I do that you made sure some of those would be impossible to retrieve even if they were warded so heavily that they’re impervious to damage of any sort.”
“Well, yeah,” Harmony said. “That was kind of the point. But some of them wouldn’t be so bad. I mean, the one at the deepest trench in the Open Sea would just require a lot of Wind and Water Magic to get to. And hoping the pallistelli don’t show up.”
“Did you drop one in the Abyss?” Amanda asked pointedly.
Harmony looked around shiftily.
“Did you?” Amanda pressed.
“I may have contacted a demonologist or two for help with a couple of them…” Harmony said. “But I’ll assure you that they’re not in a position where any demons can retrieve them either, if you were so inclined to summon one.”
Yennik groaned. “You know, I’m starting to agree with Calto on this one. Time travel sounds like our best bet.”
“It’s a risk, yes,” Calto said. “But I think it’s a risk that we’re going to have to take.”
Sedder sighed. “I’m not sure that we have a choice in the matter.”
“There are always choices,” Silver said. “But in this case, it doesn’t sound like we have any better ones.”
“Are we really that desperate?” Delven asked. “I’ll just take your word on it that some of these things would be hard to do even with magic.”
“I think we’re going to have to try it,” Keolah said.
“I think I’m in way over my head here,” Kithere said.
Zendellor snorted in agreement.
“You think you are?” Vakis said. “This is way more than I’d bargained for here.”
“I’ll do it,” Tor said softly.
“You?” Vakis said. “But you’re not even a mage. Neither am I, for that matter.”
“I’ll still go,” Tor said.
“You are a mage, Vakis,” Keolah said. “Inborn, too. I can always tell. To what, I don’t know, but your aura is strong. Are you sure you’ve never done magic accidentally?”
Vakis shook his head. “Never.” He sighed. “Well, if Tor is going, then I suppose I am, too. Honestly, I have nothing to lose here.”
“I didn’t think humans got romantically involved with the same gender as often as elves,” Delven said. “Or is that different in Albrynnia?”
“What?” Vakis sputtered. “No! We aren’t romantically involved! He’s just my best friend.”
“Okay,” Delven said.
“If we’re quite done arguing about who may or may not be sleeping with whom,” Amanda interjected. “Let’s figure out how we’re going to do this.”
“Getting into the past is easy,” Yennik said. “Relatively speaking. It’s getting back that’s the hard part.”
“We might go too far or not far enough?” Hawthorne asked.
Calto shook his head. “That’s not the problem. The problem is, taking the Tinean books would alter the timeline in some way.”
“We could just copy them and leave them where they are,” Keolah said.
“That’s probably the best plan,” Yennik said.
“There might be a way to retrieve the originals and still get back here,” Amanda said.
“How can we do that if the very act of taking them would change the past?” Hawthorne asked.
“Technically, you can’t actually change the past,” Silver said.
“I didn’t realize you were an expert on Time Magic,” Hawthorne said.
“I am a Time Mage, you know,” Silver said.
“Really?” Hawthorne said. “Couldn’t you travel through time yourself, then?”
“I really have never been so inclined as to learn how, even if there were anyone around who could teach me,” Silver said. “But these are exceptional circumstances. At any rate, I do know some of the theory. Time itself is immutable. Every decision someone makes branches off an alternate universe in which they made the other decision. For each possibility, there is a universe out there where it is reality.”
“So, wait,” Hawthorne said. “There’s a universe out there where I’m straight and married my second cousin? That’s the right word in common, isn’t it, Delven?”
“It’s possible,” Silver said. “Although unlikely, if he is as disagreeable as you have said. There might be one where you are straight and married me, perhaps.”
Hawthorne snorted softly. “Maybe.”
“So, if I’m following you correctly here,” Keolah said. “If we went back and took the Tinean books, we would create a new timeline in which the Tinean books disappeared, but the timeline we came from would remain intact and unchanged?”
“Precisely,” Silver said.
“Problem is getting back here,” Yennik said. “Now. Getting back now.”
“Discussing time travel makes tense difficult in most languages,” Silver said.
“Is there a way we could make a beacon of some sort, then?” Sarom asked. “Like a buoy or lighthouse in time that could guide us back in? Or at least some sort of temporal telescope that would let us see where we’re going better?”
“Maybe,” Silver said.
“Let’s go through the books again and see if anything remotely related might help,” Amanda said. “I know you can make teleportation beacons to allow easier use of Motion Magic.”
“A pity none of us is a Motion Mage,” Keolah muttered.
“Another trip back to Torn Elkandu?” Hawthorne asked.
“We didn’t bring enough notes to check them all here,” Amanda said. “We may have missed something.”
“If we’re sailing back to Kalor, let’s at least go around to Scalyr,” Hawthorne said. “It’s a lot closer and less walking.”
“If we’re going back to Scalyr, let’s sail around the west side of Kalor this time,” Sarom said. “There’s no dragons on that side, are there?”
“No,” Silver said. “Not many, at least.”
“Not many?” Sarom said.
“Not any that are likely to bother us,” Silver said.
“That’s reassuring,” Sarom said.
“Alright, we sail to Scalyr, then,” Keolah said. “And anyone that doesn’t want to travel through time can stay there.”
Silver stared off at nothing. “Anyone that stayed behind might never see the others again, even if they were to find a timeline similar enough to be indistinguishable.”
“Does that mean my entire crew should come with us?” Sarom asked.
“I’m not sure how many people we’d even be able to take with us,” Calto admitted.
Sarom sighed. “I guess we’ll figure it out once we get back to Torn Elkandu, then.”
“Back?” Calto said in amusement. “You’ve never been there yourself to begin with.”
“Well, I’m going to see it this time,” Sarom said. “Unless you think we can teleport my entire ship back in time.”
“Unlikely, but I have no idea,” Amanda said. “Probably inadvisable, though.”
Sarom grinned. “How do you think we’re going to get around in the past, anyway?”
“Do you really want people in the past to see a steamship?” Amanda asked. “Or to wind up on land if we don’t wind up in the same physical location as we started in?”
“I really don’t care what people in the past see or don’t see,” Sarom said. “You guys already said that nothing we do can affect this timeline.”
Silver put his face in his palm and sighed.
“So, you’ve mentioned this Torn Elkandu a few times,” Harmony said. “I take it that’s the name of the place where this device is?”
“It’s what we dubbed it, at any rate,” Delven said.
Between the prospect of time travel and Harmony’s general weirdness, Keolah wasn’t sure which was scarier. But for all that she kept transforming people without their permission, she did at least seem like she wasn’t going to outright hurt anyone. And here she was worrying about Harmony when she should be worried about time travel. Could she live with herself if she could never come back to this place and time? Could never see this version of her family again? Maybe, in some alternate universe, her father would be less mad. Maybe her mother would have been less cryptic. Was this really her destiny? If there were an infinite number of possible timelines, could there even be such a thing as destiny?
The return trip to Scalyr was uneventful, a fact that Sedder was grateful for. Narcella had even opted to remain a harpy for now to take up less room on the ship, something the crew was grateful for, and so that she could actually get into the Witchwood to see Torn Elkandu for herself, although she still refused to try to speak verbally. And the entire crew had agreed to come along on their jaunt through time if it proved possible, which Sarom and Calto seemed grateful for. Amanda had crafted translator amulets for their newest crew mates, which Vakis and Tor were grateful for.
Between all that gratitude, Sedder hadn’t expected to see Sardill when he got off the ship in Scalyr. The man stood there in his black robes, gazing off at the water at the steamship, glowing red eyes turning to Sedder and the rest of the crew as they disembarked.
“Sardill,” Silver said flatly upon seeing him. “How did you know we were coming?”
“I didn’t,” Sardill replied. “But you always come back to Scalyr eventually.”
“So this is Sardill?” Hawthorne asked, walking up to the robed man. “The evil overlord of Flyland?”
“I wouldn’t really go so far as to call myself ‘evil’,” Sardill said.
“I don’t know that anyone actually describes themselves as evil unless they’re mad,” Keolah said.
“So, you say you’re not evil,” Hawthorne said dubiously. “The ominous black robe isn’t really doing much to convince me of that.”
“I’m an albino,” Sardill said. “And I’m bald. My skin is very sensitive. I’m protecting it from the sun.”
“Right, fine, but what about the hood concealing your face in shadows and the glowing red eyes?”
“My eyes are sensitive as well,” Sardill explained. “I’m using illusionary darkness to dim the world around me, and an enhanced sight spell to see with magic.”
“Uh-huh,” Hawthorne said. “And don’t think I haven’t heard rumors of your castle of darkness.”
“I keep it dim inside to protect my eyes and skin, so that I don’t have to wear the hood and robe indoors.”
“Riiiight,” Hawthorne said. “And why, pray tell, did you have Sedder spying on us?”
Sardill sighed. “Obviously, I wanted to know what you were doing.” Sardill looked over in surprise as Amanda and Harmony came off the ship. “A woman I recognize, and a being of no species that exists on Lezaria,” Sardill said slowly. “Shaper and Changer. Hello, cousins.”
“Wait,” Keolah said. “You’re the Catalyst?”
“I am,” Sardill said.
“Did I hear correctly that you’re calling yourself Sardill these days?” Harmony said in amusement. “Hi, I’m Harmony Kimchild. Harmony the Changer.” She was getting some odd looks from passersby, and most of the locals were giving her a wide berth and making gestures to ward against evil at her. She ignored them.
“You chose the name Harmony?” Sardill said incredulously. “You are quite possibly the least harmonious being I have ever had the displeasure of making the acquaintance of.”
“And I’m going by Amanda,” said the other. “I must say, I did not expect to see you here.”
Sedder decided that discretion was the better part of valor and this was one family reunion he would really rather not be in the middle of, and stood well off to the side behind Zendellor and Delven. So far as mages went, Sedder thought himself a pretty damned good illusionist, but this? This was a matter for wizards and gods. How had he even gotten involved in all of this?
“So, has Sedder told you all about what we’re doing?” Hawthorne asked.
Sedder shrank back a bit further. So much for being quiet and anonymous, or thinking that anyone had actually forgotten about that little detail.
“I am aware of what you are doing,” Sardill said. “And I wish to assist you.”
“You want in on it, you mean,” Hawthorne said.
“Of course,” Sardill said.
“And just why should we let you, of all people?” Harmony said. “Fat lot of good you ever did the world, you know.”
Sardill sighed and lowered his head, and his hand disappeared into his hood, perhaps rubbing his forehead.
“That’s not your say, cousin,” Amanda said quietly. “This is not your operation. And I might remind you that you were not helpful to it at all.”
Harmony waved a paw dismissively.
“What did she do?” Sardill asked.
“She dumped the Tinean books in a number of highly inconvenient places around the world,” Amanda said. “And in the Abyss. And implied that she left some of them on the moons. How she even managed that is anyone’s guess.”
Sardill groaned aloud. “I see. Well, if you would permit her to come along after all that, then surely you will take no issue with my presence. I intend to actually help, after all.”
“Oh, sure, why not,” Hawthorne grumbled. “We’re taking everyone along these days, apparently.”
“We’re stronger when we work together,” Keolah said quietly. “Even as different as we all are.”
“Are we really all just going to set aside our differences, get along, and work together?” Hawthorne wondered.
Silver fixed his gaze firmly on the ground. “I don’t know if that’s always possible. But he can help us. And if he says he will, it is very likely that he actually will. What he might do afterward is open for question, though.”
“You still doubt me?” Sardill said.
Delven muttered, “I’m just surprised that between translator amulets and everyone speaking and understanding various languages, we can all manage to comprehend one another at all.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Sardill said dismissively.
“I’ve long since stopped trying to figure out just what language anyone is even trying to speak at any given moment,” Delven said. “Including myself.”
“An inborn Speaker could have been able to make you universal translator amulets,” Sardill said.
“How would that even work?” Delven asked. “I was told you can’t make a translator amulet for a language you don’t speak.”
“Inborn Speakers can speak every language,” Sardill said.
“Oh,” Delven said. “I guess that makes sense, then.”
“You seem to be learning quite a bit about magic for someone who is not a mage,” Sardill said.
“An academic interest,” Delven said, then paused thoughtfully. “Would an inborn Speaker be able to speak Tinean?”
“Yes,” Sardill replied. “But not read it.”
“Is there a Talent than can?” Hawthorne wondered. “Are there Readers?”
“No,” Sardill said.
“Well, it should be,” Hawthorne griped.
Sardill sighed. “If I must explain this, then I will. Speech Magic works by understanding the meaning of words in a living mind. It is beyond the scope of Speech Magic to understand the meaning of symbols written by those who are no longer present or indeed, even alive.”
“Makes sense to me,” Delven said.
“Delven,” Sardill asked. “Why did you not learn magic?”
“Did I introduce myself?” Delven asked.
“No,” Sardill said. “But I know who you are, Delven Thrack of Hrackston.”
Delven shivered involuntarily. “I’m not sure if I should feel honored or creeped out at that. As for why, it was never really an option. I’d heard tales of bards who were able to do magic with their music, but when I asked about it, I was laughed out and told that was impossible.”
“They were ignorant fools, then,” Sardill said. “Though they doubtless refused to teach you because of the color of your aura.”
“My aura?” Delven asked. “What color is my aura?”
“Brownish,” Keolah said. “Like Harmony’s, but a bit yellower.”
Sardill nodded in agreement. “No doubt they believed you to be a Changer like Harmony. So if anything, it is really her fault that no one would teach you magic.”
“Hey!” Harmony said.
Delven smirked. “Well, I never really wanted to be a Changer, and not out of any prejudice against them, either. I would have wanted to learn Speech.”
Sardill fixed his gaze upon Delven. “I could do it, you know. I could make you an inborn Speaker, if you so desired it.”
“Whoa, wait a minute,” Delven said. “Are you trying to tempt me with power or something?”
“How in the Abyss do you think you’d even be able to do that?” Hawthorne wondered.
Sardill sighed in exasperation. “The Changer can change the body,” Sardill said. “I am the Catalyst. I can change the soul.”
“Well, I really don’t want my soul changed, either,” Delven said. “Regardless of what sort of deal you might be offering.”
“Suit yourself,” Sardill said.
“Are we going to go?” Hawthorne asked. “Or just stand around at the docks garnering odd looks from passersby?”
“Are we going to let him come along?” Harmony asked.
“All things considered,” Amanda said. “I don’t think we’d be able to stop him from coming if he wanted to come along, regardless.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound ominous or anything,” Hawthorne asked.
“He is very powerful,” Keolah said quietly.
“You could all be very powerful,” Sardill said. “I’ve simply had ten thousand years to practice.”
“I thought we’d agreed it was more like eight thousand?” Amanda asked.
“I really wasn’t counting,” Harmony said.
“How can humans live that long?” Delven asked.
“Magic,” Sardill said. “The same as with elves.”
“I’m going to go find an inn and get something to drink,” Hawthorne said. “You guys are welcome to join me when you’re done discussing magic and philosophy or whatever.”
Keolah was apprehensive as she led the group through the Witchwood. It wasn’t that she distrusted Harmony and Sardill, but… no, to be perfectly honest with herself, she distrusted them. She couldn’t help it. She trusted Amanda, sure. She didn’t think Amanda was likely to deceive her. But Harmony was insane and Sardill just leaked deception everywhere. His aura was a sharp magenta brighter than any she’d seen, a color that looked just wrong, like it shouldn’t even exist. While Vakis felt like a hole in the world, Sardill felt like a living mana well.
“If you can give people powers like you claim to,” Delven said to Sardill, “why didn’t you just make your own Seeker and have them show you through the Witchwood?”
“I could have, perhaps,” Sardill said with a shrug. “But you have no idea how much trouble inborn Seekers can be.”
“I am an inborn Seeker, you know,” Keolah commented.
“Yes,” Sardill said. “Exactly.” Keolah could practically hear a smirk in his tone even though she couldn’t see his face. Which was itself strange. His illusions were opaque even to her.
“Am I trouble?” Keolah asked.
“You seek to change not only this world, but many others as well,” Sardill said. “Perhaps ‘trouble’ is not the correct term. But it is always Seekers who guide the way.”
“He’s always vague and mysterious like this,” Silver muttered. “You get used to it.”
“No kidding,” Harmony said. “At least Amanda seems to have less of a stick in her butt than I remember her as having.”
“Hey!” Amanda protested.
Everyone grew quiet as they reached the heart of the forest. The three cousins took up a silence that Keolah might have thought respectful from anyone else. She wasn’t sure Harmony was capable of respect. Sardill grew greatly attentive as they passed down through the tunnel to the pocket-world. He made no comment, but she could tell he was watching everything. Harmony was not the most dangerous person in this group. When they emerged out under the purple skies, Harmony pranced off to poke her whiskers into everything, but Sardill paused to carefully examine their surroundings and look up at the sky.
“Not what you expected, cousin?” Amanda asked.
“Strange to think that this has been in our world since before even we were born, and yet we knew nothing of it.” Sardill pulled back the hood of his robes and dispelled the spells over his face, revealing a smooth dome, white as ivory, and eyes that were actually pale blue tinged with pink rather than red.
“We didn’t think the Witchwood was anything but yet another potentially dangerous node,” Amanda said. “Too unstable to be useful to us.”
“Are there a lot of those?” Keolah asked.
Amanda nodded. “Even Gal was very unstable at first. I worked long and hard to find ways to stabilize it and safely harness that power. Most nodes are small and weak, barely noticeable.”
“How long did that take?” Keolah asked.
“It was probably several hundred years before it was sufficiently tectonically stable to safely build in,” Amanda said. “And before you mention it, that eruption at the end of the Wizards’ War was artificially caused and no accident.”
Sardill slowly walked forward to the circle of runes, and followed one of the spokes of the wheel toward the Nexus. “Do you know how long this place has been abandoned?”
“The Tin’dari weren’t really good on dates,” Keolah said. “I don’t think they were very clear on the passage of time in general.”
“I can understand that,” Harmony said. “It happens when you don’t age. There were times that I must have spent months doing nothing but trying to get a butterfly’s wings just the way I wanted them.”
“Where are the books?” Sardill asked. “I wish to see them.”
“Over this way,” Amanda said. “At the School of Thought.”
“It should not surprise me that you’ve built a city here,” Sardill said. “Who do you expect will live here?”
“People,” Keolah said. “People reading, learning, researching, creating, enchanting, and living.”
“An idealist, I see,” Sardill said. “You see this place as the center of a magical research facility?”
“In part,” Keolah said. “I’d also see it as the headquarters of a group that explores other worlds.”
“Exploration,” Sardill said. “Is that all it will be?”
“What’s wrong with exploration?” Keolah asked.
“Nothing,” Sardill said. “So long as you acknowledge that the very act of looking may irrevocably change the places and people you seek to observe.”
Harmony groaned. “He’s doing it again.”
“You make plans without even knowing if it will work or how it will work if it does,” Sardill said. “You’ve been making assumptions about what you will find already.”
“Don’t think I haven’t considered multiple possibilities of what might be out there,” Keolah said.
“Such as the fact that even if we can get this working, the other Nexi may not even still be intact to receive an incoming teleportation,” Sardill said.
“Pessimism was definitely among the possibilities considered, yes,” Keolah said. “As well as the chance that if anyone still lives around the other Nexi, they might be hostile and kill us all horribly. Or the environment around the Nexi might be toxic or otherwise inimical to elvenoid life.”
“Ah,” Sardill said. “I see that, for all your idealism, blind optimism is not one of your faults. But are you paranoid enough?”
Keolah shrugged. “Probably not.”
Amanda showed him into the library, and Sardill looked around, pulling out one book then another to flip through it and examine it intently. Even though Keolah could see his face perfectly fine now, he still made no readable expression as he did so.
“Strange to see Astanic again,” Sardill murmured to himself.
“You speak Astanic?” Keolah asked.
“Not really, no,” Sardill said. “The trolls and I never got along.”
“Let’s not talk about the Wizards’ War, though,” Amanda said quietly.
“Agreed,” Sardill said.
“Yennik was instrumental in helping to decipher the ancient Astanic.” Amanda gestured toward the goblin.
Yennik glanced about one way and another, and hesitantly stepped into view. “Yes, well, I did my best.”
“For all that you say languages are easy, they certainly seem to be being difficult,” Delven said. “Let me guess. It’s because the people who wrote the books are long dead?”
“Yes,” Sardill said. “Among other things.” He ran a finger down a line of Mibian text.
“So, can we do this?” Keolah asked. “Will the ritual work?”
“I believe so,” Sardill said. “Allow Silver to lead the ritual circle, as he is the only Time Mage among the group.”
“Can we move the whole ship?” Calto asked.
Sardill sighed. “I don’t see why not, if you really wish to teleport an entire seafaring vessel through time. The mana requirements would be absurd, but rituals are designed to be able to handle much higher than normal mana requirements by allowing multiple people to contribute to the power of the spell. However, hmm, I believe I can anchor the ritual as we are casting it into the ship and utilize it as a focus for the travel aspect of the weave. As an object that travels, it is thematically appropriate and hence will provide a power boost and stability.”
“You know about rituals,” Keolah commented flatly.
“Of course,” Sardill said. “I rarely find their use appropriate. They are clumsy and convoluted. But in this case, as none of us are capable of performing this feat otherwise, it may be necessary.”
“If you can give people powers,” Delven said wryly, “Couldn’t you make someone an inborn Time Mage?”
“I could, yes,” Sardill said. “But that would be no substitute for the skill and practice to be able to take us to the precise time we intend to go to. Also, inborn Time Mages have a tendency to vanish from time and never be seen again shortly after their powers awaken.”
Delven paused thoughtfully. “So would that also mean that at any given moment, there’s a chance of a Time Mage randomly appearing out of nowhere without warning?”
“Yes,” Sardill said.
“Creepy,” Delven observed.
“Indeed,” Sardill said. “Motion Mages are much more common, though.”
“Let’s get everything sorted out and then head out back to the ship, then,” Amanda said.