“Why haven’t you gone home?”

 

 Aithne froze at the unexpected question as the darkness that still lapped the shores from the day before began to rise. It took her several panicked breaths before she could lift her head to look at Urag, let alone speak. Even then, she did not trust her tenuous hold on the darkness to say more than a single word.

 

“H…home?”

 

“Yes. I know you don’t seem like you want to talk about your past but… I thought…”

 

Aithne shook her head as tendrils of disaster pressed upon her fragile dikes.

 

Urag got that adorable look of concern he seemed to use only when Aithne had said or done something particularly…well, concerning. “What?”

 

“It’s…I just…”

 

How could she explain? She didn’t understand it herself. Of course the idea had flitted through her mind, though it hadn’t occurred to her until weeks – even months – after she was freed. But the very idea of it filled her with a dread she could not name.

 

“I…um. I’ve thought about it. But… I’m sure they already think I’m dead. They would have heard about…the ship going down. They’ve…they’ve already grieved. I can’t…”

 

She stopped, unable to find further words that would do anything more than befuddle things further but he nodded as if he understood.

 

“It is your decision, of course. And I support you whatever you want to do.”

 

 “I…”

 

Aithne started speaking even though she had no idea what she was about to say. Fear and confusion and blackness swirled through her, a miasma of sensations she had no hope of processing. It was, therefore, an ironic relief when the building they stood in chose that moment to shake with the violence normally reserved for volcanoes, earthquakes, or Borkul at his angriest. Once they had their footing, she and Urag exchange a glance and then both starting running.  Aithne scooped up Chonji as they went into the deserted Arcaneum and then through the doors and into the school proper.

 

People were shouting and running every which direction and Aithne hesitated. They had started running, but to where? How could they tell where the source of…whatever had happened originated? She had no idea where to begin. Urag, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate – he turned left and began racing down the hall, raising his voice to get people to move out of his way.

 

The shout of an orc who really meant it had equal and opposite responses: a path cleared in what seemed an instant as students and professors alike beat hasty retreats to the walls, their fears of the nebulous shaking replaced by the more immediate fear of an orc in a hurry.

 

Aithne, on the other hand, nearly fell over as twin bolts of fear and ravening lust shot through her like a double lightning bolt. She fought to keep her balance against suddenly-shaky legs and her panting breaths had little to do with the physical act of running. Fortunately, she did not have to hear that yell more than a couple times before they reached their destination.

 

The Hall of Elements was packed out the door with people trying to peer in. Like in the corridors, Urag’s shout opened a path for him but it closed immediately after, like a giant creature swallowing him whole, and Aithne was forced to stop at the edge. She tried to peek through the crowd but most of the others were taller than she. After a moment, she gave up and went up the stairs to the balcony level.

 

The balcony was just as crowded as the doorway. She growled to herself, then, in a burst of inspiration or desperation, she cast Aslis’ Minor Levitation and then cursed when her head slammed on the low ceiling above. She rubbed it as she got her first good look at what was happening.

 

The most obvious thing was the giant glowing ball they had discovered in Saarthal. Somehow, in the space of less than a full day, someone had managed to get it out of the ruins and all the way to the college. How had they fit it through the doorways of either place? She shook her head – there was still so much to learn!

 

The ball didn’t seem to be the focus of attention, though - the crowd was gathered around a dark spot on the floor beside the ball. Aithne couldn’t quite make out what it was until she remembered Onmund’s trick when they had come back late from town.

 

Eagle Eye was made for outdoor distances; the relatively small area in the otherwise giant-sized room gave her a disoriented twist of nausea. She struggled to master the focus of the spell – she could see the people on the far side of the gallery with pristine clarity, down to the pores on their faces, but trying to shorten the view to the spot on the floor proved difficult. By the time she managed to squeeze her eyes and force the vision where she wanted it, her already sore head was pounding as if someone inside it was using it as a drum. It was worth it, though, when she saw what the dark shape was.

 

A blackened and blasted body. Whoever it was, they were most certainly dead – not even someone like Borkul could have survived that much damage. Someone turned the body over and she got a look at what was left of the face of, “The Archmage!”

 

The words slipped out of her mouth before she realized she had spoken, garnering a few glances from the others, but this was clearly old news – a few muttered assents but most just frowned and went back to watching.

 

Aithne didn’t notice – the jolt from recognizing the Archmage had moved her sight from his body and as she fought to regain focus, she found herself looking at the ball instead. She had not had time to do more than glance at it before but now, with her eyes hyper-focused on it, she could see that it wasn’t just glowing – beneath the surface of whatever material held it together, she could see shapes. Some few she recognized – geometric patterns, mostly, and runes from ancient days she recognized from some of the books. She watched in fascination as they moved, glowing bright then fading out as they passed through her field of vision. She could ascertain no rhythm to it – not that she expected to, given her limited view - and she was about to turn away when a particular shape appeared that took her breath away.

 

Half circles within half circles facing away from each other. Double candleholder. However you wanted to call it, here it was. She watched with breath bated as the shape grew to its fullest then faded away, replaced by other symbols she did not know. Her mind was no longer on the ball, though – the shape had shaken free a memory.

 

Chonji’s birthday, two years past. She squeezed the child, who had somehow fallen asleep despite all her movement, as she remembered. It was the day the Archmage had re-enslaved her.

 

Well, no, not re-enslaved. She had already been a slave. The day he had reminded her that she was a slave and had taken her away, fucked her, then had her clean his room. She had seen papers on his desk but when she had reached for them, he had shooed her away, sending her to the slave quarters.

 

She had thought nothing of it then but now, with a flash of insight, she finally remembered where she had seen the symbol that had sparked her interest in Saarthal. The same one that had been on the wall and on the ball’s pedestal. The same one she had just seen appear in the ball itself.

 

It had been etched by charcoal onto paper from something. It had been a rounded shape, somewhat akin to a horseshoe, with the symbol embossed along one side.

 

So then…the Archmage had known or suspected something about this strange device. She narrowed her eye, dispelling Eagle Eye and floating away until she was clear of the group before attempting to slip away with as little obtrusiveness as she could muster.

 

Not that it mattered too much - she probably could have done flips away from the group for all the attention anyone paid her. She and Chonji made it to the edge of the room and went around the corner to the top of the staircase that led back to the ground floor. She glanced around and, when she was sure they were alone, she pictured the Archmage's desk, mumbled the words and gestured, then stepped into the room.

 

“You really should keep this place warded, Archmage,” she mumbled. Chonji shifted and started to push at her.

 

“Down!” His little green face puckered into what she recognized as the beginning of a yell. The room was separate from most others and it was unlikely anyone would hear if he began screaming but he had his father’s lungs, she had learned. She looked around the room then shrugged and set him down with a futile, “Don’t touch anything.”

 

From the state of the suite, it didn’t seem to matter – the place was a mess. It was larger version of the suite she shared with Urag and Chonji. The bedroom door sat propped open, as did the bathroom door beyond – apparently opening doors was too much of a hassle for someone like Savos Aren – and a stack of dirty dishes was piled on the table. Debris was scattered everywhere and the faint smell of body odor seemed to seep from every surface. Whatever the Archmage had been doing, he had not wanted the kitchen staff, cleaning staff, or even slaves to know about it.

 

The papers were still there, although in a different state than she remembered. Clearly he had been going through them recently - there were fresh ink marks on some of the manuscripts. She searched through until she found the etching.

 

It was, indeed, the same strange shape. What did it mean? She looked over the papers, scanning them quickly. None of them seemed useful to her investigation and she feared to take them in case others were aware of this.

 

She shook her head, annoyed. She was so close to something, she could feel it! But she…

 

Something shoved at her leg. “Mama!”

 

…couldn’t quite…

 

“Mama! I found a toy!”

 

…figure it out.

 

“Mama!!”

 

Frustration boiled inside her and a sharp, “What?!” burst from her lips before she could bite it back. She cringed as she quelled the remains of her anger and knelt. “What is it, honey?”

 

He didn’t seem to have noticed her yell. “I found this!” He waved a horseshow-shaped object in the air. “Can I have it?”

 

“No, honey, I don’t…wait.” Aithne frowned at the thing. “Let me see it.”

 

Chonji held it out and Aithne’s breath froze in her lungs. She glanced at the etching on the table and back at the object then, with shaking hands, she turned it over. Sure enough, there was the symbol engraved into its side. She ran a finger over it and, though it didn’t feel like anything other than cold metal, her imagination supplied a current of energy.

 

“Where did you find this?”

 

“Over there.” Chonji gestured toward the now-closed door to the next room.

 

“He was using it as a doorstop?” Aithne shook her head and turned back to her son. “Tell you what. We’ll take this with us and I’ll make sure it’s safe, then you can play with it. You never know what strange things you might find in a place like this!”

 

Chonji’s face puckered up and fat tears began to trickle – one of his famous tantrums was about to begin. Well, her time here was done, anyway. She hooked the horseshoe-thing to her belt, grabbed Chonji’s hand, and got them both back to their suite just before his wailing began.

 

Ten seconds later, she reappeared, grabbed as many stolen books as she could find without spending undue time searching, then blinked away again. 
 

 

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