The Plan For The Promise

An Ancient Channel

Berren straightened his uniform and sat as upright as he could on the wobbling stool. Under his breath, he hissed, "All right, I got your message. Now why am I in this sleazy rathole? Who are you and how did you know about that night?"

Opposite Berren, across the pitted and scarred table, sat a giant man-shape in a voluminous leather cloak and broad brimmed hat. An unnaturally pale, enormous hand cupped a steaming pint of mulled wine. "My master has need of certain items to which you have access. He is willing to pay you well."

The youth snorted. "This is ridiculous. I don't even know why..."

Three emeralds fell from another pale hand, two the size of thumbnails and one as large as an open eye. Berren caught his breath.

"This is the advance payment. You will receive double this upon delivery." The voice sounded like gravel grinding under heavy wheels. The engineer leaned forward slightly to try to look at the face opposite him, but table was feebly lit with single tallow candle. For a moment he thought he saw light reflected back from two wet black orbs.

"What makes you I can't just take this and never come back here?"

"My master trusts you." Berren looked at the thing with incredulity. "And you would die in your sleep choking on your own offal if you betrayed him."

"Tien Yu!"

"You are beneath her notice. You do not want to cross my master's circle. The time has passed when your isolationism and your stockpiles of decaying weaponry could buy your blasphemous independence. They are among us again."

The great thing rose from his seat, overshadowing the table like a mountain at night. One hand slipped into the cloak and removed a small, neat envelope and dropped it on the table. Berren opened it with one slim finger and read the contents. His mouth dropped open and his face broke out into a cold sweat. "But these molds are in the tunnels beneath Lookshy manse; it'd be almost impossible for me to gain access. Besides, they're useless. The balance would be irreparably marred if it was forged in Jade... or..."

It moved to the open door of the smoky tavern. Drunks staggered and urchins weaved through the portside of streets of Lookshy, outside. "They move among us, and they bear the mandate of heaven. Their will is law. I will see you in two days."

The Returning Flood

Meanwhile, at the Plum Blossom Retreat...

Nameless Ravine stepped into the candlelit room, brushing aside a few threads. "Is this..." he whispered.

"Yes," Rivers Between Us was at his elbow, his goggles down as he checked for spies. "This is the room where you, ah, sparred with Alabaster Sunset. I've made certain preparations, as you can see."

In the four corners of the room, candelabras had been set to provide shadowless light. They were in the cliff face behind the manse, in the one room which did not yet have a purpose. A temporary lattice of wood had been secured to the ceiling, and from this lattice hung over a thousand individual silk threads, each so thin that they were nearly invisible, but as a whole they practically formed a grey mist. They hung from the ceiling to ankle height.

"Now, I'm going to ask you to run through a few simple drills. If you don't mind, I'll be taking some notes. Don't mind me. Pretend I'm not even here."

Nameless Ravine unsheathed his greatsword. "How should I begin?"

"Stand there, in the northwest corner. Take your stance and make a straight thrust. And, ah, close your eyes please."

His circlemate took his position, but Rivers watched only the blade. It flicked into a level position, poised at shoulder height, silk threads flowing over the bladed and around it like a frozen river. In an instant it leapt forward, its eager edge parting the threads as it passed. It stopped and hung for a moment, then returned to its master's side, leaving behind the sheared ends of the still hanging silk forming a perfect outline of the path of the sword.

Rivers took notes and sketched in his notebook, essence speeding his hands as they blurred over the paper. "Excellent... excellent. Err... thank you. Now take two steps to your left and perform the same strike, please."

"The same one? How many times are we doing this?"

"We'll only be taking the silk casts today, if that's what you're asking. Tomorrow, it will be wax, then the day after ink, and then the next day it will be cement (for your stances), and finally plaster for your grip." Rivers pulled the goggles over his eyes again and glanced about the room.

"Really, that's all then?"

"There are some sorcerers who would some demons for the purpose, fabricating skin-tight suits from their living flesh. The motions could then be perfectly recorded, as well as certain other..."

Nameless Ravine shook his head quickly. "All right. Fine. We'll just stick to these then."

Rivers head bent over the notebook. "I'm sorry, these measures may seem a little slapdash. I hope you won't be disappointed."

"No... No..." He took two steps to his left. "I'm ready."

The Sleepless Overseer

"...and a mere three hundred and sixty years after the defeat of Khlul-hloo, the same blade was in fact shattered in combat against his former lover, (Ahret Trespian, who you may recall would go on to push back the dread Fae warleader, Pancrator Lifereft, in that unforgetable wardance on the glass-sea-theater of the floating islands of the West), a tragic accident which has since been attriuted to an unfortunate proportion of moonsilver and crystalized triple-steel..."

The little god was tottering about the table on three thin steel legs shaped like bird talons, its body a six-inch high stylized face formed from whirring gears, springs, and armatures. Spread between it and Rivers was a maze of notes, models, diagrams and quills, covering a table eight paces and long and a third as wide. It stopped short when the lumbering steps of a jokun entered the room.

"Secret Avalanche, have we been successful?" Rivers whispered between the fingers cupping his chin.

The elemental responded by clearing a space on the table with a sweep of his arm and placing there two immense tablets of stone, each as thick as a man's leg and over two paces long. The stone was black and did not reflect light; only its outline reflected its coarse grain.

Seven Thousand Wonders Unfolding piped up, "Ah, it seems we've met with greater success that we could have possibly hoped. Fortunately in this dim age, the true worth of this artifact is probably shrouded by absentminded antiquarians. Behold, the very mold used by Autochthon himself to forge the third of the Godfangs, Appointed Blasphemy, for Eottra Dyclasm, general of the star-dragon legion. Rather worse for wear I'm afraid."

"We knew already that we would have to modify it, Seven Thousand. Tell me, Secret, how was Berren? Not too shaken up by my little request?"

"Ask him yourself." A grin of mishapen stones was sprawled improbably beneath the wide-brimmed hat it affected.

"What?" Rivers set down his pen.

"He asked to come with me." He rubbed his face with one leather-gauntleted hand. "Should I have refused him, master?"

"He's probably Lookshy spy... ah, I was afraid of this. A little to easy."

"Should I kill him?"

"Oh, goodness, no. No." Rivers rubbed his chin. "He's an excellent technician..." He leaned out over the papers. "A Grand Daiklave... how far is the beastman army now?"

"Three weeks away, maybe longer if Master Leaf Shakes the Wind and Master Nameless Ravine are successful in their work."

Rivers shook his head. "Impossible... um... well... maybe..." He grabbed a scrap of parchment and began computing. "If I sleep only every other night... and I pour essence into the work... with the perfected tools... no... I can't... but it must be done. I promised I'd prepare him... I still need more assistants..."

Secret Avalanche shifted his weight, producing a sound like crackling obsidian. "Say the word, master, and I will bring as many chattel as you need."

"No... no, thank you though, it will require assistants suitable to the task... Serrakeen, for instance... perhaps Berren, and Seven Thousand... we'll need an auspicious number in sum..."

Rivers returned to his calculations, pausing only to request weak tea, fresh quills, and lamp oil.

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1. The Promise

2. Heaven's Mandate