• Graded • Gods Only Know

[Padraig]

She was holding back, and Padraig wasn't sure that he liked it. The tendency to give as good as she got, in spite of lifelong training to the contrary, was just one of the many things he loved about Faith. She got under his skin in more ways than one. Oddly enough, so did the holding back and the effort to continue maintaining a certain order of things.

Regrettably though it probably served her well, since now and here were temporary conditions. If they survived all this he'd have to return to his small home alone, and she'd return to a life where restraint wasn't just advised, but necessary. Padraig simply nodded then when she apologized, and bit back a more natural response.

"The left one," he quipped quietly, grinned a little in spite of himself and looked off where she indicated the heart ought to be. "How does the brain communicate with the rest of the body?" Padraig uttered then, as much to himself as to her. Impulses he meant, the thought or impulse that must originate in the mind, he assumed, and caused one to move a finger or toe. "Lights, pulses...transmitters," he suggested.

One of them seemed to whiz past him and he imagined it looked somewhat like an arc from doorknob to fingertip after dragging one's feet on a carpet. Assuming one was able to see it. "Gives you a charge," he added. It was ridiculous really. They were inside a body.

"If the brain is truly that way," he considered when she asked which he'd rather do. "then it will still be there in a few bits. They could wait and observe he figured. He was curious to know if the heart would form and since they were already there, he'd like to be present to see it happening. So Padraig was content to wait, and took the opportunity to drag a flask from his sack, sate his thirst and hand to her to do the same if she wanted.

[Maltruism]

It was hard to measure the time elapsing as the two waited to see if anything developed where the heart was located. But after what must surely have been many breaks, the only development was that every time one of the streaks of light flashed through the emptiness around them, there would be some small detail they would notice that seemed to have only recently been added.

It may be a slightly wider or longer patch of ice that now had a more thoroughly dry, bone-like texture; or an additional strand of what appeared to be tendon, or a slightly more fully rounded form of what resembled muscle tissue. But in the long breaks they spent watching, there was a noticeable increase in the spread or definition of details creating the look of bodily systems around them.

These details were very subtle, and required some cross-checking and agreement for the two investigators to conclude that they had truly occurred. The only thing that actually stood out with no close observation was that the dark empty hole where the heart should be remained void of detail. Nothing about it, or the landscape around it, changed in the least. Plain dirt and ice bordered the hollow in the center of the chest area. There was no suggestion of texture, form or color to hint at any connection to any bodily system.

But there could not be denied the presence of sounds. The slow, thick, tide-like ebb and flow of inhaling and exhaling, the light pop and brush of the "bones" and "muscles", adjusting to new parameters, the rush of liquid through narrow vein-like tubes in the walls, floor and ceiling of the massive chamber in which they waited. But foremost to their ears, was, as had been the case the entire time, the beating of the absent heart.

Perhaps it was the inconsistency with the common arrangement of the vascular system. Maybe they chalked it up to the peculiar acoustics that could be affecting their hearing. It may have been the breaks it would have taken them to reach the edge of the heart cavity to be sure. One thing was finally certain though; this heart beat was not coming from that location.

It was coming from the direction of the brain...

[Faith Augustin]

He didn't bite back, which rather surprised Faith; normally he was quick to do so. It was how they were together, after all, but that was when they were in lessons. Here in this moment was unlike anything either of them had experienced before and would be, Immortals' willing, something they would remember. The thought I can't tell him how I feel, but at least we'll always have Treid's armpit flashed unbidden into her mind and her lips twitched as she tried to bite back a laugh. What a situation they were in.

"No, thank you," was her quiet response to his offering her a drink. How long they would be down here was unknown and she had no wish to run out of water, especially considering they were surrounded by the stuff but drinking this ice did not seem wise. Rather than express that, though, which would almost certainly cause an argument and his insistence that her need for fluids was the same as his, she simply shook her head and said no more.

"It seems to me, Mister Padraig, that it's developing just, slowly. Details are appearing. Would you agree?" The young slave breathed in and spoke, then, in a much more matter of fact tone. "Well, it's impossible. But it's happening, so that's reassuring." After all, the acknowledgement that impossibilities could happen brought hope to those in situations like hers. Still, no time for that either. "I would suggest that we have sat around looking pretty long enough."

Her smile to him with pure mischief. Perhaps strangely, the fact that yes, they obviously were in a body and yes, it obviously was forming out of the ice and those lights made her feel a lot better. At least they knew. Faith was very used to not being able to control or, often, fully understand the reason for her environment; now that they knew what it was, they could work with it. "Your body is a wonderful thing, you know." Faith glanced at him and smiled, "everyone's is. If you lose a limb, you will continue to feel it there. If you lose your sight, your other senses sharpen." Standing and making sure that her sword was belted properly, Faith gave a slight shrug.

"Movement warms you up. It's why you shiver when you're cold and water cools you down, so you sweat when you are hot. Your body is a wonderful thing that strives to survive, sometimes despite you." Looking up towards where the brain seemed to be, where the noise was coming from and where she thought they should go, she was more herself than she had been since they got here. "If that is true of your body or mine, what must be true of this one? What wonders can it perform in order to maintain? "

Earnest and serious as the young slave was, she couldn't hide the glint of curiosity that pulled her or the excitement at where they were. "Shall we go look?"

[Padraig]

Padraig didn't bite back. Not this time. Something about that risked her getting the better of him and since the first they'd met, from the bit that she'd knocked on his door, they'd sparred. Both words and will. It could be frustrating on the one hand, while on the other Faith's ability and willingness to give as easily as she took had drawn him to her all the more. Here, now though he found himself at odds with a strong inclination to tell her just how he felt, knowing that it would do neither of them any favors. Not in the long or short term.

The sudden realization that he loved her had knocked him off his game. And there was the necessity of keeping her alive. And if he was lucky, then himself too. Somehow the odds against them seemed much greater than they'd ever been before. It wasn't every trial one wandered blind through the embodiment of an immortal. He thought of insisting that she drink, realized it would get him nowhere and he put the flask away.

Things were progressing slowly, he had to agree. Except that Padraig did a double take when she mentioned his body. But then grinned, belatedly grasping her meaning. "Is it not true of the mind and spirit as well as the body?" he asked when she referenced the struggle and will to survive. Then again, "If that's the sound of the heart beating, up there ahead, it's not exactly in the right place, is it?" If he could make some sort of strange sense of everything that was happening around them, that alone seemed uncommonly strange.

All the more reason to go look, he reasoned, and he smiled at her and nodded. "Let's have a look then," he said, and would remain within arm's reach of Faith as they traveled on.

[Maltruism]

There was no difficulty in finding the "throat" passage that had to lead to what was serving as the brain for this body of ice. All the contours of what passed for bone and muscle, tendon and sinew, veins and arteries, as well as rock and ice tapered down to an obviously tubular passage.

There was only sporadic evidence of a spinal formation developing as they made their way past a barely developing obstacle that might eventually become a larynx of sorts. The sound of liquid rushing through the tubes in the walls of this tunnel was more pronounced than at any other location they had yet encountered. Had they chosen to wander near the corresponding location of the femoral artery, they might have encountered the same effect. They had already seen only a void where the aorta would be.

They came finally to the point where the tongue would, but found little development along facial lines. What they did see was a steadily growing flashing of lights against an oddly faceted and reflective concave surface ahead. There were some internal structures that blocked much of this image; the development of sinus passages perhaps. But as they cleared these visual obstructions, they were stricken by the inappropriate colors apparent in these reflections. It was still the same ice and stone as they'd been seeing for breaks or even trials now, but it was lit as if by daylight.

It was broken into a thousand facets or more, as if someone had disassembled a puzzle that had displayed a snowy landscape at mid-trial, and rearranged the pieces with no thought to continuity. Here and there were spots where two such facets seemed to abut properly to show slightly a larger piece of the puzzle then most everywhere else, but for the most part, it was a jumbled array of tiny parts of a single image.

But more than that, now and then, something moved in this image. Though a single streak might flash by on one facet, to streak by on one a dozen yards away, and again back there, and down here, and up over there, it was obviously a continuance of a single movement of a single object somewhere, caught and reflected upon the scattered pieces of what looked like a concave mirror the size of a castle.

Even the more subtle wafts of snowdrift caught on the wind was noticeable, now that the pair had seen what was what. As well, it could be perceived that the whole image was slowly panning to the left. Here and there, the broken parts of trees could be matched up against each other, if not actually moved to form a whole. They were looking at a landscape! an icy landscape!

Oscillus would naturally be the first icy landscape they would assume to be reflected here. Closer examination and consideration would give pause to this assumption. There was nothing of the city or battlefield in evidence; no wandering Ellune, working or excavating; no smoke drifting past from the ruin of combat; no 'Blades of Zafra' astride drakes in the sky.

Now of course, Oscillus was massive, and this locale could be hundreds of miles from anything remotely near the Tomb site, where the two had descended. But they waited, hoping for the image to roam past a familiar sight. What else did they have to do anyway?

The wonder of this unexpected visual break took their minds away from the steady pulse of the heartbeat for several bits. It forced itself back into prominence now, if only for the increasing lack of any source. Slowly however, with some wandering amidst the empty chamber, and the turning of their heads, it became evident that the image itself was the source.

Even as they realized this, their senses were assaulted by a sudden shift of the image and a voice, raised in an eagerness bordering on insanity. "What?? Is someone there?? Please Show thyselves! Mercy of fates! It has been so long! Please, who art thou? What house? I would know the names of they who cometh to take my burden from me!" The entirety of the multi faceted surface was now taken up by a single face, eyes wide in manic intensity.

But before much conversation could be completed, the voice twisted suddenly in anguish. "NO! You are in the crystal? How can this be? What art thou? You can not be within the body. It is not possible! The corruption! the Ether! The fracture formed of his death must destroy you! You be not mortals! Thou cannot be! You...You are the betrayers, come to mock me...to mock my sacrifice! The shards are MINE! He hath no more use of them! I can use them...and I WILL! You promised me replacement, but you hath abandoned me instead. Pray tell her majesty this shall not rest unanswered."

Angry or not, the person connected to this face clearly craved company, and did not close off whatever connection was in effect. But it was hard to say which was the more disturbing element; his rage, his indication that the pair ought to to have been destroyed by the raw ether of a fracture, his vengeful words, or his Rynmere accent.

[Faith Augustin]

Was what she said of the body being a wonderful thing true of minds and spirits too? Faith considered what he said and then turned to look at Padraig with a level gaze. "Whilst I believe that yes, the same is true, I very much hope that this situation does not get more complex to the power of three by including a mind and a soul also." She maintained the calm delivery, but was teasing when she added. "I understand that it might seem somewhat ungrateful of me to feel that way, but there it is."

It wasn't where the heart should be, no, and as they stood to move, Faith answered that point. "I have been considering that. If your hearing would become sharper should you lose your sight, for example, who knows what organs could stand in for each other in an Immortal? We rather rely on our hearts." Her shoulders lifted in a rather helpless gesture. "It is possibly simple arrogance which makes us assume they do the same."

That particular philosophy notwithstanding, however, they moved and Faith pointed out where they were and suggested why things changed. The rushing noise was probably the carotid artery, that would be a larynx, that kind of thing. As they moved, though, the light around them changed and there, in front of them was a strange concave surface. Faith frowned, looking at what seemed to be, possibly, the inside of Treid's skull.

The facets, though, they weren't reflections, they were pieces of a puzzle and Faith looked at Padraig and spoke in a whisper. "Can we put the pieces together, do you think?" Her voice was generally quiet, but at the moment it was barely audible. Looking at the surface, she didn't think they could reach all of it, but she wasn't entirely sure.

As they took the time they needed to, watching the picture unfold, it became obvious that it was a landscape of some kind and then, of all things, the scene was replaced with a pair of eyes and a face. Faith took an involuntary step backwards at that, although Padraig would probably notice that the step backwards also coincided with stepping closer to him.

The voice spoke and Faith glanced at Padraig. Her mind was moving, thinking and ticking. His accent was a Rynmere accent, she thought. He spoke of Her Majesty and Faith believed that Rynmere was the only Kingdom on Idalos. He asked which house they belonged to and Faith wished for a moment that she had some means of communicating with Padraig, but she did not.

Was it her place to speak? Was it acceptable? He was talking about the shards, the pieces of Treid's heart and Faith had a dreadful, sinking feeling. Ether and fractures she had no idea about, and she hoped that Padraig did, but the man in front of them both was talking about something forming when Treid died and there was life here, without a doubt. Was it his or the Immortals?

Looking at Padraig, Faith's thought process was focused on a way that she could tell him what she had worked out, in case he had not.Yet, the bottom line was that she could not do that without speaking and it was not appropriate for her to speak when someone spoke to the two of them, except to answer the question she had been asked. "I am Faith," she said and of all things she dropped a curtsy in the general direction of the being who was speaking. "Slave to Lord Venora and property of him and his house." There were a hundred other things she wanted to say, wanted to ask but at this point in her life, it was simply not acceptable for her to do so.

So, she held her tongue, kept her gaze lowered and waited to see what Padraig said.

[Padraig]

Treid's armpit, his chest cavity, his throat...None of this had ceased striking Padraig as absurd. And yet here they were, hiking onward towards what Faith assured him would be the skull and the brain. Which further struck him as the last place that one would locate a heart. Well maybe not the last, but in the scheme of things, close enough.

He wouldn't have known a larynx from his left foot unless Faith pointed it out and named it. But it did appear that there were places where things ought to be, but simply weren't. At least not yet. "What is it, do you think, that's caused all this activity?" he asked Faith quietly as they went. This apparent coming to life, he meant. But countless disconnected images, like the pieces of a living jigsaw puzzle spilled out of their box and scattered across the rug, were the last thing Padraig had expected to see.

Could they put the pieces together in the correct order? Perhaps, he told her, and agreed to try. But even before they'd begun, what Padraig could make out of the landscape didn't quite line up with what he'd expect to see if, for instance, they'd been gazing through a window out from their current location. That castle, he wondered as they worked together. Had he seen it before?

But whether they sorted out the pieces or they didn't, the face that appeared before them changed everything. And startled Padraig before that too became just one more oddity in the already oddest of circumstances. He left his weapon alone however. There was no point and any sign of aggression or combativeness on their part couldn't possibly go well. Added to that, whatever entity it was seemed as surprised to see them, as they were it.

He knew the accent however, and so it occurred to him that the landscape they were seeing, the castle could be linked. All the more likely considering the reference to her majesty. But how long had this entity been here? Centuries? From what Padraig could remember of his lessons, there'd been a number of queens. And for that matter, was this even Treid's body?

One thing was for sure. No one said who art though and cometh anymore, except in the theater, recalling the times of old. What did ether have to do with it, he wondered? Energy, in a sense, the formless stuff of Emea. One thing was for sure. He seemed to want the shards, and believed he'd been betrayed and abandoned. They ought to tread carefully then, he thought and glanced Faith's way.

"We're indeed mortals," he said after Faith introduced herself. "and we haven't come to mock or betray you," he reassured the entity behind the face. "My name is Padraig." No sense in saying his house for Augustin. One crusty old shoemaker did not a known house make.

Shards, a replacement. Did this one need a heart as well. Is that why he wanted them? Not for the first time, Padraig wondered just whose body they'd been walking around in. "How long have you been here? What arc is it, do you think?" he asked. For him, not them, Padraig meant. "Could you tell us your name?"

[Maltruism]

Though the image of the man's face was broken into thousands of fragments, there was no missing the scowl that dominated its structure. However, it seemed an introspective scowl, not directed at the two visitors to its sanctum. "Heralds of The Rose I find then, is it? Padraig Venora and his slave, Faith..." he concluded, misunderstanding the introduction the two had offered. He did not allow time for correction as he continued, a calculating squint to his eye "Indeed, what alliances you may currently be serving are unknown to me. The Venoras have ever sought popularity above aught else. Shall I venture to laud your refreshing departure from the tedious pursuit of glamour and fashion that so afflicts their ilk?"

The gleam of mischief at his veiled insult quickly waned with Padraig's ensuing questions, "How long, indeed..." the eyes in the reflected image lost some focus, and even now became tempered with some despair. "I know only that it was six hundred arcs and twenty two that we set sail to provide support for good King Craig. The ingrates! Rising in near rebellion on the mere fact of outside blood. As though some inherent deficiency in honor and wisdom floweth through Luther veins! It is their own belligerency that bringeth about the chaos they bemoan."

Despair began to strengthen into rage, "Did they not turn our hand to this measure with their truculent bellyaching, it would not have been my doom to be so chosen, to stay behind and find a measure of control over that which so roileth the northern sea. Could it be mastered and put to the Good King's hand, his detractors would find cause to be silent. Ohh yes!"

His look now seemed to find Faith and Padriag again, and with no great degree of amity, "How long, indeed..." he repeated, his tone far more suspicious then it was the first time he spoke these words, "Long enough to know that something has gone awry. Long enough to suspect his 'Good Queen Vanessa' of being less than loyal. My crew sailed back to bring word of their discovery decades ago. Yet none have returned to spell me my duty. Even you two now. You do not report to stand and relieve me. You abideth not in Valaris. You tell me how long it has been!"

A cruel smile now broke upon his shattered face, "Long indeed I have waited. Long indeed I have strained to keep all from falling into madness. And now my work is rewarded! The shards! In the south, they bring restoration to the corpse of Treid. But here, they bring power to the work of his son, Calam! Yes, I know the name means naught to you. but I have read his log..." he laughed bitterly, "I have had more than enough time! Xiur himself wanders outside my door. He tries to affect my mind with his tricks! But he too hath ties to Andaris, through their 'trueblood' lackeys in Endor and Warrick; and I trusteth him not!"

The face receded slightly, eyes ablaze, as if the owner sat back in triumph to survey his victory, "So think on it! The shards of one dying Immortal, bringing the means to empower his son, while his alleged 'brother' rants in impotence beyond the door for access, all the while being a tool of a royal family of traitors! Make of it a royal comedy for the social elite of Andaris. A grand premiere!"

His laughter was augmented by the acoustics of the dome, echoing upon itself in manic intensity. "Were you in the north sea, I would even send forth a following wave to see thee back to Venora. But I suspect ye shall have to find some means of thine own. You would have my name, you say? Then when ye return, tell them Mason Ettrick, he of two lowborn but respected families of Welles, holdeth the northern sea in his hands!"

[Faith Augustin]

What had caused this? Faith shrugged a slight, helpless gesture showing just how confused she felt. "Maybe he's not been truly dead and what happened woke him? Perhaps it killed him and when an Immortal dies they create a vacuum of power which gets filled by another or... " She glanced sideways at Padraig and in that moment the earnest young slave wanted more than she could ever imagine; a state of affairs which was not appropriate and further complicated an already impossible situation for her. "Or maybe it simply is what it is and we must simply accept it. No matter how much we may want to, we can not change what is."

Still, philosophy aside, Faith concentrated on moving with him and then they arrived in the strange chamber and the man spoke. Popularity, glamour and fashion? The disciplined young woman said nothing but oh, yes, it's a glamour filled lifestyle, mine. I yearn for the return of the victory curl and long for the pain of a high heeled shoe, flitted through her mind. However, she was glad that she had chosen silence because the man spoke, and spoke again. Treid had a son? Faith had not realised just how she was holding her breath until it started to become and issue and she frowned slightly.

This man came from Welles? Faith had heard of that place, although she had not yet traveled there. What was most important, though, at least to the young slave's mind was that he confirmed that the shards of Treid were bringing restoration to Treid, but also giving power to his son. She looked at Padraig with an expression of confusion on her face. Did he wish to maintain the man's belief that he was a Venora and she his slave, she wondered? That might be beneficial but Faith suddenly realised that she was not, would not and actually could not call Padraig "master" in the way she would have to.

"Would it be permissible to ask for more information on Calam, please Sir?" She asked, but she directed her words at the person talking, rather than at Padraig. No. She was never calling him that, because he would hate it and so would she. So she asked her question about the Immortal's son, but she said no more than that, assuming that he had a better knowledge of Rynmere history than her. Which really wouldn't be difficult.

[Padraig]

Padraig Venora? For just a split trill, he considered correcting the entity on principle. But why? If the mistake allowed them to learn more, rather than less, it seemed counterproductive to disagree. Besides, the individual behind the face was uncommonly touchy and there was no cause for making him more so by arguing. With a glance Faith's way, Padraig inwardly shrugged and went with it.

And no matter his views and natural inclinations, he opted out of agreeing wholeheartedly when it came to Venoras and their own inclinations. This was no time to indulge in personal beefs. And apparently the face had a lot to say. No wonder if he'd in fact been here for a century with no one to speak to. He'd apparently been saving it all up, and Padraig didn't interrupt him. It was insight they needed after all.

Padraig's grasp of history wasn't extensive enough however to fill in the gaps in what otherwise seemed a rant against treachery and betrayal that might not have been written in the books at all. So...wait? Were they not in Treid's body after all but his son's? The more the story went on, the deeper Padraig frowned and he glanced at Faith, hoping she was doing better than him at sorting it out. Whichever the case, when Xiur was mentioned Padraig kept his mouth shut. After all, he'd witnessed the Immortal being struck down, but if he'd been resurrected, then the young man had missed that part. Probably not the time to mention it.

Mason Ettrick. Well at least they had his name. And when Faith asked about Calam, he remained silent. It was as good as any place to start, and once they had more, maybe they could begin to unravel a state of affairs that were becoming more and more strange and problematic with each passing bit.