Kanin Fyre: Chapter 24 - Clandestine Activities

Sometime around midnight, a small, white, silk spider-construct crawls beneath our door. Ink and I have to suppress the urge to immediately squish it. 

Zyneth sits up from the artificing book he was reading as the spider comes to a stop between us. 

“Follow quietly,” it says in Mirzayael’s voice, itself barely a whisper. Then, without any pre-amble, it turns around and scuttles back out beneath the door. 

Zyneth and I have to scramble to grab our things and follow it out into the street; Zyneth takes a few extra seconds to carefully and silently pull the door closed behind us, so I send a bit of glass after the spider construct to keep track of it. 

We soon catch up, and the messenger spider guides us back to the palace and up several flights of stairs. I realize where we’re headed once we enter the throne room; the nearby study was where Zyneth and I originally emerged. 

The spider pauses before the closed door. I lightly rap on it so as not to surprise anyone, then push the door inward. The construct scurries inside. 

Only Mirzayael and Fyre are waiting for us, each already seated in chairs designed to accommodate their physiology. The harpy chair has slots between the back and the armrests so her wings can hang to either side. Meanwhile, Mirzayael’s chair is something more akin to a giant beanbag; her legs are all tucked up beneath her like a cat on a pillow. 

“Please,” Fyre says, gesturing to a few of the more humanoid chairs in the room. “And thank you for coming. I’m sorry for all the cloak and dagger.” 

“I’m sure Zyneth is used to far more clandestine activities,” I tease, watching as he carefully and unnecessarily eases the office door shut behind us. 

“Oh?” Mirzayael says. The question sounds innocent, but I’m sure she’d be happy to do some digging on his background. Not that I could tell her much if I wanted to; Zyneth is more tight-lipped about his family than about all the black market stuff he’s gotten tangled up in. 

“You sure this place is safe?” I ask, pretending not to have heard Mirzayael. “Aquenno won’t show up unannounced?” 

“Unlikely,” Fyre says. I take one of the offered seats and kick my boots up on a nearby stool. Zyneth leans against the wall, stance relaxed, arms folded. “He’s still in his room; I’ll be able to track him if he leaves or starts moving around.”

Zyneth raises an eyebrow. “That’s handy. A surveillance spell?” 

Fyre smiles guiltily. “In a manner of speaking. I can’t tell who is who on my map, but I can tell what their species is, and as long as I don’t lose track of them, I can follow their position throughout the Fortress. We don’t have many nereids, so following him should be easy.” 

“Fancy,” I say. Though Zyneth, I suspect, I’m not terribly thrilled by the idea that Fyre has been spying on us. From what I’ve seen, the city doesn’t have many (or any) other cambions, which would make Zyneth just as easy to track. “That must make keeping an eye out for gods easier.” 

Fyre and Mirzayael exchange a shared grimace. 

“Actually, they’re the only people I can’t see on my map,” Fyre says. “Well, the only people before I met you. I guess the System doesn’t classify gods by their apparent species—like they’re some other creature entirely.”

“Well, Ink and I certainly fit the nonhuman bill,” I say dryly. At least it means I’m under less surveillance. 

“Yes,” Fyre says awkwardly, picking at a crack on her stone desk. “Though it’s not the only system we’ve utilized to fortify ourselves against the gods.” She looks back up at me. “That’s what I wish to speak with you about tonight.” 

If she’s got a way to protect herself from the gods, I’m all ears. 

“However,” Mirzayael adds, “the expectation is that the information exchange goes both ways. As a show of… trust.” She says the last word like it went sour on her tongue. 

“More specifically,” Fyre says, “it sounds like we have similar goals, and it may be to both our benefit to pool resources.” 

I sit up straight, taking my feet off the stool. “You mean about retrieving the captured Travelers.”

Fyre nods. “You mentioned you might have a method.”

“Well, I’m developing a method, anyway,” I admit. “I think I have all the pieces I need—I just have to put it together and open the door. And be prepared for what I find on the other side.”

“You know how to reach the Heavens?” Mirzayael asks. She sounds equal parts skeptical and impressed. Hey, I’ll take it.

“If my theories are right,” I say. “I have access to a dimension-bridging spell that can be used to access the Heavens. I’m still refining the spell circle design, but I think I’m nearly there. Besides that, there’s only two other things I need before I can activate it. First, a focus; something strongly related to the gods or heavens that will aim the spell in the right direction. And second, an incredible amount of mana—which I think the Drifting Isles might be able to supply.”

Now Mirzayael just looks astonished. “A dimension bridging spell? And an incomplete one at that. This sounds perilous. Do you even know it will work?”

“Er…”

Fyre encouragingly gestures for me to continue when I paused. “Go ahead. She already knows everything you told me.”

Yeah, fair enough. I would have done the same with Zyneth. “I cast it before when I was trying to get back to Earth.”

Mirzayael frowns. “Fyre told me that plan had been dangerous.” 

“Well…”

“It was,” Zyneth says. 

“But it also worked,” I object.

Zyneth just gives me an unimpressed look. 

“Mostly. Anyway, is there anyone else you’ve told?” I ask Fyre. “I don’t want too much information about me spread around. Blair told me the gods are looking for me by name, but they don't know about my new form, yet.”

Fyre shakes her head. “Just us. And I’m happy to keep it that way. I agree that until we have a more reliable method of defense against the gods, we should keep our cards close to our chest.” 

“You mentioned you have something that might work,” I say. 

Fyre glances at Mirzayael, and the arachnoid wrinkles her nose. They’re both quiet for a moment—a long moment. Then, a weirdly long moment. 

“So…” I say.

Fyre blinks, her gaze shifting back to me as if she only just remembered I was here. “Sorry! It’s an ongoing discussion.”

“Disagreement,” Mirzayael corrects.

Zyneth raises an eyebrow. “Telepathic communication?”

That would explain all the prolonged and significant looks they’ve been giving each other. “I thought you had to be touching someone.” 

“I have a permanent connection to a few individuals that don’t require physical contact,” Fyre admits. “But just as you’re cautious of allowing too much information about yourself to spread, we also have secrets it would be wise to keep from the Heavens. What I can tell you, at least at this time, is that we have a second surveillance spell—well, more like an alarm. It notifies me if a god appears in the city.” 

“I thought you said you couldn’t detect the gods on your map,” I say. 

“I can’t,” she admits. “But the alarm spell can be set to go off according to different parameters. For instance, it’s currently designed to activate if anyone over 250 years of age enters its range. We thought that would be comprehensive enough to cover the gods and champions, but…”

“A dozen new champions have just ascended,” Zyneth surmises. “All of them would be of mortal age.” 

Fyre grimaces. “We didn’t learn of the Gods Tournaments until recently. The alarm went off when Blair arrived, but it turned off after she left—even though Aquenno is still here.” 

I fold my arms thoughtfully. “I thought his level was pretty low. I mean, still higher than everyone in this room, but not by much.” 

“It would make sense that he’s a new champion,” Zyneth agrees. “Many of the older champions are known by name. Maru is almost five hundred years old, for instance. Occasionally a champion is killed or disappears, but those instances are rare. Until all of you showed up, the youngest champion would have been two hundred years old, or so.” 

“The Tournaments are linked to us, then?” Fyre asked. “I had suspected, based on the timing, but wasn’t sure why.” 

“Probably to help track all of us down,” I say. “More eyes and ears in the mortal realm, right?” 

“I suppose,” Fyre says, dubious. “But if the goal is to find and apprehend Travelers, why couldn’t the gods do it themselves? Surely they’d be more effective.”

“The gods rarely leave their realm,” Zyneth says. “Mostly just to check in with their champions or ascend new ones.”

“Even Lorata didn’t deal with Fyreneth herself,” Mirzayael adds, replying to Fyre. “Sending her champions to do her dirty work.”

Zyneth frowns at this, clearly bothered by such derision aimed at the head of the pantheon. He doesn’t argue, though. I think he’s been uncertain of things ever since Blair’s appearance. I can’t say I can relate to a crisis of faith—I’ve never been a particularly devout man in the first place—but maybe it’s different when your gods occasionally walk the streets and level mountains. 

“Why is that?” Fyre abruptly asks, pulling us all out of our thoughts. “Why do they hide themselves away in this other dimension? They can’t be terribly busy if everything there is to do is back in the mortal realm.”

Mirzayael frowns in consideration, and Zyneth thoughtfully scratches his chin. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s said that they have more important things to attend to. But what those could be is anyone’s guess.”

“Probably just lounging around and stuffing their faces with delicacies while the rest of us are left to languish and struggle,” Mirzayael grumbles. 

She’s certainly got some beef with the gods. “You think that’s true of Blair?” I ask. 

“And Shirasil?” Fyre adds.

Mirzayael hesitates. “Those two seem to be somewhat of anomalies among the gods.”

“Shirasil?” Zyneth repeats, straightening up. “You’ve met him?” There’s an alarming note of concern in his tone.

“Unfortunately,” Mirzayael sneers.

Shirasil was on our ‘maybe an ally’ list. His nature seemed too chaotic to predict. Aquenno had all but confirmed this when he told us to be wary of coming in contact with the god. But if Fyre and Mirzayael have already encountered him and are still here to talk about it, then it’s safe to say Shirasil is not aligned with the majority of the pantheon. 

“He even added himself to my contact list,” Fyre says. “However, if he also crosses your path, just… be careful. I’m unsure what his angle is—everything he’s told me seems to be helpful—but I can’t shake the feeling there’s an ulterior motive to everything he does.”

“That sounds about right,” Zyneth remarks. “I don’t know that there’s anything we can do to avoid him, but we’ll try to keep an eye out.”

“And Lisari,” Fyre quickly adds. “Sometimes she appears as a woman and goes by the name of Lisari.”

That certainly will make it harder to keep track of them. “Good to know.” 

But Zyneth appears more thoughtful. “It’s said he takes the form of different genders, but I haven’t heard of that name. Perhaps it’s a cover? Like with Blair.” 

I give a helpless shrug. “If Lisari is a cover, then it doesn’t do much good if she reveals it, does it?”

“Then what does that mean?” Zyneth wonders. “If Blair isn’t a cover, then who is she? Why doesn’t her name appear in the pantheon?”

Mirzayael grumbles out a sigh. “I had thought I didn’t know her name because our information on the gods was incomplete. But you mean to say she’s entirely unknown?”

“So far as I am aware,” Zyneth admits. Hey, look, they’re getting along!

“It could be that Blair is still a cover, and she’s just more cautious than Shirasil,” I suggest. 

“That could be it,” Fyre agrees. “It would fit what I know of their personalities. Blair does seem more cautious about her interactions with mortals becoming known to the pantheon.” 

So we’re back where we started. But none of this answers why the gods seem so reluctant to spend time in the moral realm—or how these two appear to have covertly subverted whatever orders they’re operating under. 

“What exactly is it that the pantheon wants?” I ask, thinking aloud.

“They want to stay in the heavens as much as possible,” Zyneth says. 

“They want to capture Travelers,” Mirzayael adds. 

“Why Travelers?” I ask. “If natural disasters and disease and famine aren’t enough for them to interfere, why is a hundred people from another world a threat to them?”

“They all have System access,” Fyre suggests, frowning at a spot on the ceiling in thought. “Perhaps that is what has them concerned. This ability seems to be specific to the gods—at least, until we showed up.” 

A memory of Yedzaquib briefly flickers through my mind. The man grimacing in pain, ichor dripping from his chest where he’d just stabbed himself, implanting the null marble in his wound. What had he called it? A refiner? 

“No,” I say slowly, combing through the uncomfortable memory. “We aren’t necessarily the only ones. At least, I don’t think so. So far, the only people I’ve seen who have Roles also have System access. Unless you’ve found otherwise?”

Fyre sits forward, suddenly alert and focused. “That is also the trend I have noticed. What do you mean? Who else may have access?”

Yedzaquib screaming as his chest resealed itself. The internal light that seemed to seep through him like a flashlight through cracks in a wall. 

“I saw someone do something that caused them to obtain a Role,” I admit. “His attempt failed, but a Role and a Title appeared on his stats, briefly.”

Fyre looks astonished. Mirzayael seems confused.

“But,” Fyre says slowly, “I’ve only witnessed gods and champions to have Titles.”

“And only gods have both Titles and Roles,” I add. 

The room is quiet. 

Zyneth huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “What are you saying? That Yedzaquib was attempting to become…” It seems he can’t bring himself to say it, shaking his head instead. “That’s not possible.” 

“But if it were?” Fyre wonders. “Travelers already have access to a portion of this System’s powers. What if there were room to unlock the full potential? If there was a risk that Travelers might have a way to gain the same power as the gods, what would the pantheon do?” 

“They would round them all up,” Mirzayael says. “Kill them, or lock them away.”

A second, more extended silence descends on the room. Zyneth’s gaze turns to me. His brows are pinched in concern, but there’s something else there, too. Something I’m not sure I understand.

“Kanin, what can you tell me about this failed ascension?" Fyre finally asks. “How did it transpire? Was this a Traveler?”

“No,” I say, “it was someone from Lusio. I’m not entirely sure what happened. The man—Yedzaquib—used some sort of device that absorbed the soul of another Traveler, along with the remnant that was attached to it. I think he called it a ‘refiner.’ Then he…”

I try to find a palatable way to explain what happened next.

“He stabbed himself in the chest.” Zyneth touches a point on his sternum. “Then he buried the artifact in the wound, and it began to change him.”

Fyre’s eyes are wide with horror. 

Mirzayael also looks disturbed, but at the same time, a little impressed. “He had the willpower to stab himself in his own chest?”

“But not to overcome the remnant’s influence,” I say. “The Title and Role never finished populating, and in that time he lost his mind to the remnant. He probably would have killed us if Blair hadn’t showed up.”

“A remnant…” Fyre murmurs, her gaze going distant. I’m starting to recognize when it’s a ‘speaking with Mirzayael’ kind of distracted look, or a ‘I’m puzzling something together’ sort of distracted look. 

“What did Blair do?” Mirzayael asks as Fyre continues to think. “Did she kill him?”

“No,” Zyneth says. “She trapped him in some sort of stasis—he appeared unconscious, at least. Then she encased him in a magic field, shortly before both shield and man vanished. I think she was planning to do the same to Kanin and I, before we managed to talk her out of it.” 

“Is the remnant the link then?” Fyre wonders, seemingly unaware of Zyneth and Mirzayael’s exchange. “Not all Travelers have a remnant, but Blair indicated those were experiencing higher scrutiny. Yedzaquib implanted a remnant in himself, and was promptly captured.”

I lean forward. Something she’s saying is tickling at my mind. Ink can feel there’s a connection, too. We know the gods are wary of remnants and want to keep them contained. And that feeling we’d felt when Yedzaquib buried the remnant-containing refiner in his chest… it wasn’t completely unlike the faint pull we could feel from Blair. And why the strength was significantly different for Sandro and Fyre…

“You think wielding remnants is related to accessing the gods’ powers,” I surmise. 

“What?” Zyneth looks between us. “That’s not possible. Kanin, you and Fyre both have remnants and you don’t wield godly powers.” 

“Perhaps not,” Fyre agrees. “Our powers are no more or less developed than Travelers without remnants—and Sandro’s abilities are weaker still. But given what you revealed about this non-Traveler who gained System access, I suspect there is a link. Some piece I’m still missing.”

So, this is a lot to process. What does that make Fyre and I? Some sort of mortal-god hybrid? I’d say demigod, but that description seems to already be claimed by champions, and while champions do benefit from the power of their god, gaining strength and extended life, they don’t have access to their patron’s System. 

But I think Fyre is right—there is something connected here. Too complicated to parse out, but from the way Ink’s magic doesn’t play nicely with Echo, I’ve suspected for a while now that the System, gods, and remnants are all connected.

Mirzayael lets out a long breath. “I don’t know what to make of all this. But I think it’s clear that if Travelers pose some danger to the gods—especially Travelers with remnants—then it would be to our benefit to find and protect as many as possible. Perhaps even use them against the Heavens.”

“That will almost certainly make our city a target of the pantheon,” Fyre points out.

 Mirzayael’s eyes flash with a hungry look, and she smiles wryly as she meets Fyre’s gaze. “That would be nothing new.” 

Despite the bizarrely threatening subtext of the conversation, Fyre smiles. “Are you ready to work with them, then? Both of us sharing what information and resources we have?”

“I am,” Mirzayael agrees. “If it means we might have the chance to invade the Heavens and free those who have been wrongfully imprisoned—provide them an opportunity for justice—then I am willing to explore using this interdimensional spell that was mentioned.”

I’m a little concerned about what Mirzayael means when she suggests providing the freed Travelers and ‘opportunity for justice,’ but ultimately, we all want the same thing. Both of us want to help the Lost Souls. I can get us there to free them, while Fyre and Mirzayael can provide a safe place for them after. I’m starting to believe we actually stand a chance of pulling this off. 

“Then it’s settled,” Fyre says. “We can begin preparations tomorrow; not just with examining this spell you have and looking for something that will connect it to the Heavens, but also research on what we might expect if and when we get there. This will be exceptionally dangerous, and cannot happen on a whim. We will need to plan meticulously; learn more about this ‘stasis’ the Travelers may be in, and how we can free them from it. Prepare for any spell or obstacle we might face.”

“Oh, is that all,” I say, amused. 

Zyneth rubs a temple, looking tired. “I’ve broken into many dangerous places before, but this is going to be a completely different scale of difficulty. I don’t know if we’ll be able to pull it off without some kind of divine intervention of our own.” 

Partway through Zyneth’s words, Fyre abruptly sits up, alert and rigid. “Mir—”

The room to the office slams open with a buffeting breeze. Mirzayael and Zyneth are on their feet, weapons drawn, in the blink of an eye. I manage to scramble to my feet with significantly less grace—only Fyre remains seated. 

The man in the door is pale with black eyes and hair. Smoking black eyes and hair. He beams at the group of us, as if reuniting with old friends he hasn’t seen in years. 

“Divine intervention?” Shirasil says. “I believe that’s my cue.”