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This Used to be About Dungeons, ch 143, Songs of the Past
🕑 Added 2022-10-31 18:29:53 +0000 UTC~~~~
Verity had gotten used to the palace, and had to admit that she loved it. It was built into the mountain, but there was enough variation among the interiors and windows carved into the rock faces to allow light in. During her first days there, she had thought that it would look like a porous rock with room many holes, maybe even one of those that floated from all the bubbles, but standing from the village, the holes were disguised, the regularity of windows not at all obvious. It was a well-crafted place, an immense place, and it spoke of unbelievable amounts of time and money.
In the center was a caldera, or something like it, a depression, at least, that Cate had turned into a courtyard. This provided more light and fresh air into the palace, with ringed windows around it, and a number of tall trees that kept the place shaded during the day. At sunset, the leaves of the trees would glow softly, giving illumination to the area, and the opportunity for a party, and as the night wore on, the light of the leaves would fade away.
There was something so effortless about the palace, perhaps because every need was taken care of. Food, clothing, all was reduced to needing a fraction of the time, unless you wanted something more bespoke or curated. There were a surprising number of artists — or perhaps not surprising, given that all other needs were taken care of, that there was no true ‘need’ for artisans, cooks, merchants, or anything like that. There were painters, sculptors, and musicians, who Verity found herself relatively at home with, though she was eminently thankful that there seemed to be no other lute players among the crowd. There were thinkers as well, writers and philosophers, though Verity found a bit less common ground with them, and they had established their own forum where they held forth for a substantial fraction of the day.
She couldn’t stay, obviously, though whenever she said that to herself, a small part of her said ‘well why is it so obvious?’.
If anything, those doubts had grown since letting the party out. She’d had a fitful sleep in her assigned house in the village, and now that she was spying for real, a part of some conspiracy, now that she knew how Ria’s undone days had gone, knew that Cate possessed the power necessary to fight a world-class dungeoneer at what was arguably the peak of her power … it did invite questions about how necessary this all was, and how obvious it was that she wouldn’t be able to stay.
She wasn’t going to leave the party, but when she thought to herself ‘obviously the party can’t be here with me’, she began thinking of all the ways that she might be able to make it happen. Coming clean to Cate seemed like a necessary step in the hypothetical world where Verity was trying to stay in the demiplane. Convincing the party was the other necessary component, and some of the party would be more difficult than others.
Hannah would be the easiest to convince, as she’d embarked on dungeoneering to get away from the church and have some adventures, and what better adventure could there be? There was, naturally, the question of Marsh, but that didn’t seem that unworkable. Next came Mizuki, who would have to leave her beloved home behind, and it seemed most likely that she would be convinced last by virtue of the others having decided to stay. She was unconventional, but also liked to go along. Isra … it would depend upon whether Isra’s doubts and fears about Cate, which had been there since the start, could be assuaged, but Isra had nothing tethering her to Pucklechurch. And that left Alfric, who was the most thorny of the bunch, with the strongest familial connection. The only way he would stay would be if he could be enticed by the Wildlands.
Verity was starting to realize that she’d actually given it a lot of thought, for something that she was definitely not going to do.
Her goal for the day, as she’d discussed with the others, was to map out the palace and then find a way to speak privately with Cate, or failing that, to listen in on palace rumors to see whether there was someplace they could dig their fingers into.
It was already clear that there was nothing particularly weird going on about the palace, only fine craftsmanship, a bevy of entads, and ectads to keep it evenly heated and with fresh air where the natural construction didn’t permit. There were no strange extradimensional bumps or hallways that went too long, and there were only a few places that Verity wasn’t permitted to enter, mostly the rooms that belonged to others, where they had their privacy. There were no particularly curious choices in terms of how the building was laid out, and it would have been odd if there had been.
If Cate really wanted to hide something, she could just stick it in extradimensional space. A bound entad could only be operated by someone it was bound to, which meant that it was the ultimate in secrecy, short of someone coercing you into using it. It was for that reason that the book that was bound to the party was such a good get, not necessarily because it was good storage, but because it was bound. If Cate had something that she wanted secret, all she would need was bound storage, and the hidden thing would not only never be found, there was absolutely no way for anyone to get to it even if they knew precisely where it was. The best candidate for ‘hidden thing’ was a demiplane core, of course, but there were other things that might have been tucked away as a matter of secrecy.
Once the place was all properly mapped, every public hallway gone down and a few rooms breached that might have been private for all Verity could tell, it was time to try to find Cate, which was simplicity itself, since Cate was in the grand courtyard, sitting on the grass and listening to a public performance — a work of oration rather than song.
Verity had talked with the speaker, Puck, on a few occasions, largely because they were both bards in their own right. Puck had sheepishly confessed to knowing nothing of music, but they were from a tradition that had no need of it, following a rhythm of a different sort, their speaking following particular meters that were divorced from proper rhythm. It was a side of bardic magic that Verity had only a glancing knowledge of, given that it wasn’t taught at the conservatory and was considered to be inferior by most people in the know. And it wasn’t as though Puck had gone to a different school where they’d been rigorously taught; instead, they had been self-taught, along with just a bit of knowledge from books, and a few passing conversations with people who had interest in the historical mode. There was a certain sort of harmony to forging ahead and making up things on your own in a field of art where making things up was considered one of the key components.
There were thirty or so people on the grass under a large weeping willow, listening to Puck speak. The words were coming fast, and if Verity hadn’t known better, she would have thought that it was rehearsed. Instead, Puck's particular brand of oration prided itself on being spontaneous, with not so much as a bar written beforehand, all of it spit out in the heat of the moment, sometimes with prompts from the audience at the start. It seemed incredibly high pressure to Verity, who had her own relationship with improvisation. At least with a song, she could let the instrumentation carry her for a moment, eschewing lyrics, and a refrain gave a break from having to think up new words to go with the tune. For Puck, there was nothing to hide behind, only the words, the cadence locking everything in place.
This particular bit of oration was a history, with a large number of historical asides, almost all of which were completely fabricated. Puck told of an epic journey across magical seas, gave histories of long-forgotten kings, waxed poetic on the beauty of a sailor’s daughter, and digressed into a long section on the nature of sailing, teamwork, and captaincy. This was all accompanied by magic, naturally, a somewhat weak bardic tinge that came and went in waves. Puck would speak of the whipping wind, and then the audience would feel the chill in the air. Puck would speak of hunger, and then the audience would feel a pang of it.
Verity enjoyed herself, and clapped appreciatively once Puck was done, though she hoped that was the end of it, and that Cate might be free for a conversation. Instead, the next performer hopped right up and started in, this one a girl who painted in the air with trails of light, something that was accomplished by way of entad — a performance that could only be done with that single item in all the world, which did make it somewhat special, though Verity thought that it would wind up being somewhat limited in the long run in a way that a lute was not.
People came and went during the course of the performances, and it seemed as though the small crowd was composed of many people waiting their own turn. Verity’s eyes went to Cate a number of times, watching her. There was a soft smile on Cate’s face, a kind smile for each of the performers, but not much dynamism. Cate chuckled at the jokes rather than laughing, and the smile never went too wide. When someone told a sad personal story, Cate’s frown was never too deep. There was something uncanny about her, but also something beautiful and graceful in a way that Verity found herself envious of.
When it finally seemed as though the impromptu sharing was done, the group broke apart and people went their separate ways, but Cate immediately accumulated an entourage, or something that seemed like one. There were no servants, assistants, or anything like that, but there were people who really did seem determined to follow Cate around and hang on her every word, not that Cate seemed very talkative.
Lunch was in the main dining hall, and the seats next to Cate were taken, as well as the seats across from her, and beyond. Verity was listening, though not hopeful that she’d hear anything of note, but it felt impossible to get a word in edgewise except by butting in or talking over someone in a way that would be the height of rudeness. Verity ate her plate of food, a salad with garlic butter shrimp in it, and kept looking for her chance, or at least something to make the day worthwhile.
It was, instead, Cate who made the move, not long after lunch had concluded.
“Verity, could I speak with you in private?” asked Cate. The entire entourage turned on Verity, all the attention nearly overwhelming. It was only Verity’s experience with crowds that helped it not feel overwhelming.
“Of course,” said Verity, giving a small bow that she felt foolish about even as she was doing it.
“Do you have time now?” asked Cate.
“I do,” said Verity. “I had no special plans for the day.” In fact, her only plan, aside from meeting back up with the party, had been just such a meeting.
“Follow me then,” said Cate. She turned to her entourage, the ten or so people who had made everything Cate did feel like a group activity. “I’ll bid my farewell for now, though if anyone would like to join me in the pool in an hour or two, that’s where I’ll be.”
The entourage moved away as though they hadn’t congregated specifically for her, in a way that almost made Verity believe that they were a large group of friends doing their own thing, rather hangers-on.
Verity and Cate walked together, with Verity half a step behind, because she didn’t know where they were going. They went up two flights of stairs, which Verity had walked earlier in the day when she was making her map, then through a set of doors that led into the palace’s library. It was a quiet place, and the noise of their movement raised a few heads which immediately went back down again. They came to a door that Verity would have sworn hadn’t been there, hidden within a wall of books.
“My office,” said Cate, entering first. This was a place of magic, nestled in the interior of the palace but with two tall windows looking out onto vibrant scenes. It was obvious magic, something in the glass making every pane a different place, beaches and mountains, a bit of a mess, honestly, from a lighting perspective, but it was all behind the desk, and wouldn’t be seen if you were toiling away at papers. Verity could tell that it would be a distraction, and did her best to keep her attention on Cate.
“What was it you wanted to see me about?” asked Verity.
“Oh, I just had the feeling that it was you that wanted to see me,” said Cate. “But we have pleasantries to get out of the way first. How have you been settling? You’re down in the village now, aren’t you?”
“I am,” said Verity. “First night there, actually.” She shifted in her seat. “It’s very nice.”
“I had thought of you as one for the palace,” said Cate. She arched an eyebrow. “For my part, I’ve quite enjoyed the influx of people, though sometimes I feel like a mother duck with her ducklings waddling after her. It’ll take time for people to find their feet, and to realize that I’m just one person of many.”
“You’re the one that put this all together,” said Verity. “You’re our benefactor, if nothing else, and I’m not sure that you are nothing else.” She swallowed, thinking of the fight that Ria had described. “If you don’t mind me saying, there’s an air of mystery about you, and I can understand how people find that compelling.”
“And you don’t?” asked Cate, voice light.
“I do,” said Verity.
“You came here with, I assume, questions,” said Cate. “Things that you wanted answered, and whose answers could only come from me. Or do I have it wrong?”
“I’ve been out and about,” said Verity. “Through the palace, in those first days, and recently in the village, getting the lay of the land. There are … some inconsistencies.”
“Inconsistencies?” asked Cate. “I dare say I don’t think I’ve said enough that there could be inconsistencies.”
“Curiosities then,” said Verity. “Things that don’t quite line up with … with what we were led to believe, I guess. Questions about the hows and whys of … this place. Sorry, I’m trying to be respectful, it’s just that you have to know exactly what I’m talking about, I can’t imagine that with all your ducklings you haven’t heard what people are saying.”
“Give me an example, if you’d please?” asked Cate.
“The village,” said Verity. “There are old houses, signs of customization of the stock houses, wear and tear, a suggestion that the place is a hundred years old, or something similar. It’s lived in, in a way that it shouldn’t have been if this was all new.” And that, naturally, raised questions of who had been living there, and how Cate had acquired the living demiplane, and what had happened to the previous population.
“You are, in fact, the first person to ask me outright,” said Cate with a too-wide smile. “Curious, isn’t it? But I suppose it’s explained by the fact that I’m in a position of power, that this is, in fact, my petty kingdom, and no amount of wishing can change the reality of the situation.” She sighed and turned to look back at the windows, which were still showing their vibrant but wholly different scenes. “Really, this decoration is quite garish. It seemed such a good idea at the time.”
“What … is it?” asked Verity.
“There’s a special sort of glass, made from a special sort of sand, which can be etched with a view of a specific time and place,” said Cate. “The left pane is places that I’ve been, while the right pane is places from the Wildlands. There’s variety out there, if you follow the seams. It doesn’t quite go on forever, but it’s an entire world of its own.” She looked at the panes for a moment and sighed.
“You didn’t actually answer the question about the village,” said Verity, not because she wanted to, but because she was obliged, and knew enough about deflection to see the digression for what it was.
“There were people here before this adventure,” said Cate. “People under my ‘rule’, such as it is. It was more ordinary, fewer of the special people I’ve brought together here, and with more in the way of toil, though I think toil is good for people, at least in small amounts.”
“The village … which is at least a hundred years old?” asked Verity.
Cate nodded. “And I suppose I could let people guess, allow the gossip to swirl, as I’ve done in the past, but it’s a question of what works better for the community.” She tapped her nails on the desk. “The problem is that there are questions, and more questions that come from the answers. It would have been possible, if tedious, to scrub the history from this place and pretend that it was all new, but I didn’t want to run from my mistakes. There’s nothing so conceited as that, pretending that you’ve never been in error.”
There was something sharp to the casual way she talked, as though her claws were going to come out at any moment. Her fingernails were rather long, if very nicely maintained, lacquered like a fine dresser.
“And what was the error?” asked Verity.
“It’s very kind of you to assume that there was just one error,” said Cate. “But the primary error, at least as I saw it, was cultural, and culture is a very difficult thing to change once it’s set. Some of it comes from the people, but other parts of it come from how things are arranged, the norms that develop, all sorts of complicated things. I’ve put an enormous amount of thought into how things will go in this second iteration of the colony. The split between the palace and the village, the Wildlands as a place for people to live … these will help tremendously, I should hope.”
“You don’t seem to be doing all that much,” said Verity. There were still so many questions that needed answering, but Verity was wary of pushing too hard. Still, Cate had seemed to appreciate forthright interrogation, even if she wasn’t the most cooperative subject.
“I’m doing more than it seems,” said Cate. “And some of what I’ve done has simply been in the people I’ve chosen.”
“What happened to the old colony?” asked Verity.
“They were deported,” said Cate. “Plopped down on an island not far from the Barrier Storms, unsettled, with housing, food, and the tools to start farming. I checked in on them from time to time. It’s been two generations, and they’re not quite thriving, but they haven’t collapsed like I had feared they might.”
Verity let out a breath.
“You had thought I might have killed them,” said Cate. “I don’t treat people like that. This is one way I know that the mystery has gone a bit too far. If people are worried about me killing them, that’s a sign that the veil needs to be pulled back.”
“Only a few are worried,” said Verity. “But if you operate under secrecy, some people have dark imaginations.”
“Oh, I know that,” said Cate. “But to kill an entire village worth of people … no, that would be beyond the pale.”
“You’re old then,” said Verity.
Cate laughed. “It’s rude to ask a woman her age, but yes, the conclusion you’d have to draw is that I’m at least a hundred years old.”
“Older, because you wouldn’t have been doing all this in your twenties,” said Verity. “And that means … not human.”
“There are exotic solutions to the problem,” said Cate. “Entads and other magic. I could have been cast forward in time, locked in stasis, or some other thing. But no, I am not human.”
Verity was silent for a moment. It made her feel ill-at-ease. There weren’t many options for what a person could be, if they weren’t human, and to have the person in front of you confess to wearing a human skin was unsettling. “What … are you?”
Cate leaned forward, extending a hand across the desk, and it took all Verity’s willpower not to shrink back. “Let me show you.”
The only reason that Verity reached out to touch Cate’s hand was that she couldn’t imagine this was any more dangerous than being alone in a secret room with the woman. Cate’s hand was soft but firm, and then they were somewhere else.
They were still in their chairs, but the desk was gone, and they were outdoors. It was a field with tall grass, with clouds the only thing stopping the sun from beating down. Cate released Verity’s hand and sat back in the chair, then raised her hands to the sky.
The world changed around them. The flowers bloomed and then withered, the clouds moved around in the skies above, and trees rose from the ground, spreading branches as they reached for the sky, then falling down all at once, rotting on the ground in a burst of insects.
When it was all over, the field was more or less as it had been before.
“This isn’t just a living demiplane,” said Cate. “It’s my living demiplane. It’s an integral part of me, one which I have near-total control over, aside from the people who live there. Your friend Isra was a druid, but her power is only a fraction of mine, at least in this place, and when it comes to the plants and skies. I would show you the demiplane core, but it’s here.” She pointed to her chest, slightly to the left. “It’s like a heart would be, for your kind. A part of me.”
“The dead demiplanes are … your kind?” asked Verity.
“Like shells that wash up on the beach,” said Cate, nodding. “And a great many of those shells are that way because someone or something came along to scoop out the fleshy inside of a sea creature, discarding the shell as waste.”
“Something powerful,” said Verity.
“Mmm,” said Cate. “Humans were the worst of it. Effortlessly coordinated, capable of reaching impossible heights of power, supported by the Editors … and so complete in their conquest that they no longer remember this was something that they had done.”
“I’m … sorry,” said Verity.
“It was long, long ago,” said Cate. She smirked. “At least a hundred years ago.”
Verity gave a tentative smile back.
“I’d appreciate your confidence in the matter,” said Cate. “Take the night to think about it. I’m curious about your thoughts, and how best to frame the revelation to the others.”
“You trust me that much?” asked Verity.
“I don’t know that I do,” said Cate. “You are, however, the first to press hard against the vaugeries I’ve been spinning. And nothing hinges on your silence, aside from my continued respect and trust. We can return to the palace now, if you’d like.” She held out her hand, and Verity took it, with less hesitation this time.
“What do you want me to think about?” asked Verity.
“You’ve seen the people hanging on to me,” said Cate. “It’s not a problem, per se, but I have to imagine that my status will only grow when people have a good idea what I am.”
“And … what are you?” asked Verity. “Does your species have a name?”
“We have a few names,” said Cate. She gave that same soft, mysterious smile she seemed to use when she was saying too little. “But I’m afraid anything more will have to come later. There are myths about my people, to the extent they are my people, and I wouldn’t want you to have the wrong idea.”
“What you said about your mother, how she kept you in her place, that was a demiplane, like this one?” asked Verity.
Cate nodded. “She had survived the conquests and the hunting,” said Cate. “She was protective, but also had designs for me, in the way that your mother did for you. Like you, I didn’t take to the grooming. You must understand that I never lied to you, or at least did my best not to.”
“I think I’ll go now,” said Verity. “If that’s alright with you.”
“Tomorrow, then,” said Cate. “You’ll have more questions then, and I’ll do my best to provide more answers.”
Verity nodded and stood from the chair. “Thank you for confiding in me. I’ll do my best to think it through.”
Cate gave a happy nod, then began pulling papers from her desk, which Verity thought was her cue to leave.
Verity wasn’t sure what to think. This had answered questions, but it had also raised other ones. Cate was some kind of species that created demiplanes and either looked human or could wear human skin. She was old, ‘at least a hundred years’, but that had seemed cheeky, which meant much older, a thousand years, back when the world had been much different. And she had power, above and beyond what she’d demonstrated in the fight with Ria, an entirely different suite of powers, in fact.
She was sure that Cate wasn’t telling the entire truth, but at least she’d been honest about that.
~~~~
“She’s a dragon,” said Isra.
There were some skeptical frowns, but Verity’s deepest among them. They had seats within the extradimensional space, where all but Verity would be spending the night. They’d all reported on their days, and Verity had gone last.
“And … why?” asked Verity.
“Very old, lives in a demiplane, and with evidence of fire hot enough to melt stone, along with the attack that killed Ria,” said Isra. “She said her kind has a name that’s associated with some myths. We went to the museum together, and looked at the dragon exhibit. The evidence fits.”
“There’s not much evidence,” said Alfric. “Besides, dragons living in demiplanes is —”
“Well-established,” Mizuki finished for him.
“It’s a theory,” said Alfric. “And the theory never specifies that demiplanes are made by dragons.”
“There’s no theory that demiplanes aren’t made by dragons,” said Mizuki. She rolled her eyes.
“That’s not —” Alfric began.
“She has a point,” Ria said quietly. She was deep in thought. “There’s no strong theory on the origin of demiplanes. This fills that hole. Though if we were hunting dragons and stealing their demiplanes, it seems like it would be difficult for that knowledge to be lost.”
“It wasn’t lost in Kiromo,” said Mizuki, folding her arms.
“That might be,” said Ria. “Unfortunately, I think this means that we’re past the limits of what I can accomplish, assuming that she’s telling the truth about certain facts. We can’t take the demiplane core without killing her, and killing her seems unlikely, at least so long as she’s here. In our entire fight, she wasn’t using her control of the demiplane. Unfortunately, we’re trapped here — not trapped, since we have an exit, but we can’t bring in more tools or forces. We’re well-past what I expected the upper end of problems to be.”
“We don’t have cause to go to war,” said Verity.
“No, I agree, we don’t,” said Ria. “Fortunately, we have contact with the outside. We’re only an undone day or two away from tracking down the previous village and checking her story there.”
“Are we keeping today?” asked Alfric.
“Wait, is there a chance we’re not?” asked Mizuki. “I thought this one was the keeper.”
“There was a lot of exposure today,” said Ria. “Your names are out there. People have seen you. On the flip side, you’ve made contact with a number of people, some of whom can be developed as either sources or allies. Hannah in particular got lucky. We could attempt to redo the day with foreknowledge, but I don’t imagine it going too much better than this, and we’d have the same exposure risk, possibly worse. Being a chrononaut means knowing when to keep, and I think this is a keep … but I’m not the only one with my neck on the line.”
The vote was unanimous to keep the day, with some discussion about the shape of that exposure, and how much they knew about Cate’s ability to surveil.
Verity felt awkward about the whole thing, and once it was over, she went back to her bed in the house that had been gifted to her. She thought about Cate, and what she had said.
She felt like she owed the dragon some serious consideration.
