A Clandestine Meeting of the Interminably Lachrymal Order of the Deniable Moth

Pt 4: Kageorgis

Constance returns to the lizard-man. “Did you catch all of that?” She asks very quietly.

“I make it a point never to overhear the debates of the powerful.” He opens the door and gestures for Constance to precede him. “…My lady?”

“Thank you Kageorgis,” she acknowledges smilingly. She pauses at the edge of the door, using her senses to try and check the environment beyond. She steps forward and waits for Kageorgis to join her.

Gone is the noisome sewer, instead the door now opens onto blue desert sands under a shocking pink sky. The bright green sun is low to the right, throwing shadows to the left.

“Where next?” She asks politely, “Am I to be returned immediately to House Pheon or... ?”

“Of course;” replies the lizard-man as he joins her, “where else?” He points along their shadows. “Please walk away from the sun.”

Constance looks slightly wistfully towards Kageorgis but sets off along her own shadow. “Thank you for your time and advice Kageorgis. I have enjoyed your company.”

“And I have found the whole meeting incredibly amusing. One day I shall regale my friends with the tale – one day when the political content has gone quite stale. I meant what I said about dancing, my lady; we shall dance the polka, or perhaps a rumba or a zool, over the bones of the dead High King. But is there something you would ask before you return to Stormhold?”

“If you get to my dance card first you could save me from dancing with Hermann of Karm! But I would like to dance with you very much!”

“Tell me about you and your House because truly I am humbled by your company and conversation.”

As Kageorgis turns to speak Constance observes a sand-dune move, as if something colossal and serpentine is passing beneath – then her intuition tells her that all the surrounding dunes are in fact enormous worm-casts.

“House Spandrell is, as I am sure you know, devoted to terminating the existence of other individuals, on commission.” He chuckles warmly. “Unlike you Amberites, here the application of the subtle knife is generally preferred to more widespread sanctions.”

Again, a moving ripple as of a gigantic worm beneath the sands, closer this time…

“Our profession demands in-depth knowledge of weapons… many, many weapons. And poisons – others may know more about venoms in general, but we are masters of their practical application.”

“I suspect your knowledge of both weapons and poisons is far wider than I am ever likely to know,” Constance acknowledges. “My skill with a blade is barely good enough compared to my relatives and I've not seen a flute employed as a weapon of death before.”

Something about the way Kageorgis raises an eyebrow tells Constance that a) he’s not entirely convinced by her protestations and b) he’s no longer a lizard but a bona-fide human – Kageorgis has taken on Barimen form.

Constance raises one of her eyebrows in confirmation of her statement and gazes at his Barimen form. “But tell me. What would you recommend against the creature that approaches us now from beneath the sands, Kageorgis?”

Kageorgis turns his clean-cut face toward the encroaching ripple and smiles indulgently, blinking slowly as he does so – the eyelids he blinks move laterally so represent a nictating membrane – he is not quite entirely human.

“Oh no weapons we could carry could possibly harm such an entity – a sandworm, I do believe – but then it is of no threat… to me.”

“And to me, Kageorgis?” She inquires sweetly.

“Well… let’s see?”

Constance stands next to him. Her eyes narrow as she considers her available powers, working how the worm might be a threat to her and Kageorgis, and how to counter these perceived threats. Her left hand moves to touch her Father's trump should she require it. Her right loosens a dagger at her hip. As they wait, Constance becomes aware of a change in the light. Looking behind her she sees the green sun has split in two, like an amoeba, and the two shapeless sources of light are moving in different directions.

Then there comes a hoarse rasping noise. To Constance’s ears it sounds just like a hundred-foot long invertebrate emerging from the side of a dune of blue sand – and her eyes confirm that that is exactly what it is…

The thing erupts vertically out of the sand to tower thirty feet above them. It doesn’t seem to have any eyes but its ‘head’ curves over to reveal a triple-jawed maw that arcs over and down toward Constance and Kageorgis with deadly speed and precision.

Kageorgis is still smiling broadly – Constance has exactly one second to act but chooses to remain still and within arm’s reach of Kageorgis.

The huge maw slams down and Constance feels herself being tossed around, bounced off hard, leathery walls, but with a sense of rapid lateral motion. She loses all sense of ‘down’. Then suddenly she and Kageorgis find themselves sprawled in a cave – Constance has a serious bad-hair day and can feel numerous bruises but is otherwise unharmed. Kageorgis bounces to his feet and helps Constance to hers. Constance acknowledges and accepts his assistance, whispering a thanks to Our Horned Lady quietly as she looks about her.

The cave is dry and spacious with numerous stalactites and stalagmites. The rock walls are a natural dark stone, possible basalt or at least something that looks like basalt. However the stalactites and stalagmites and numerous inclusions in the walls are apparently of natural crystal. It is breathtakingly beautiful.

“Oh my, Kageorgis! This is beautiful – as beautiful as the Crystal Caves but in such a different way.” She glances back to him. “Certainly worth the trip to get here. Wherever here is?”

“You like it? It is just one stop on the way but it is very pretty. Please walk this way…” He gestures toward the dark depths of the far end of the cavern.

Probably about now, Constance realises that she can see – it seems the light is actually coming from the crystals themselves.

“The light,” she laughs in delight. “Its source is within the crystals just like the lighting in the Crystal Cave but without Morgenstern's voice in the distance.” She walks to join her companion. “Kageorgis, what is your position within your House?”

“Well, thanks to recent promotion, kind of in the middle.”

“Is that how promotions are awarded generally?” She asks.

“How do you mean?”

“Well. Within your House. Are you born to take a certain role. Are more senior roles awarded by merit or experience or does a patron promote the favoured. Who is the Head of your House and are you related?”

“Ah! Of course!” The smile returns to the assassin’s face as he leads Constance through the caverns. “You think like a Barimen – no, we are all ‘unrelated’ in any meaningful way as you would know it; your way is quite outré in the Courts. Burgomeister Orlok is the head of House Spandrell.”

Constance acknowledges his reply with a nod. “What will happen to your House if it is to be exiled, Kageorgis?”

“We will leave.” Kageorgis halts before a particularly large crystal, says “Follow me!” and then vanishes into the crystal.

Constance follows him into the crystal and emerges on a lofty mountaintop next to Kageorgis on the lower of two peaks, several hundred yards apart, connected by a saddle-ridge. There are no plants but strange white crystalline growths grow bush-like on the dark grey and purple rocks. Constance pauses to examine these growths but does not touch them.

It is night, but Constance can see whisps of cloud, glowing very faintly green in the dark forming as the wind blows from right to left over the ridge, only to vanish again on the other side.

“Might we tarry but briefly Kageorgis? I am fascinated by the movement of these cloud whisps and the colour green has always been my favourite. Your chosen route gives me great delight.”

“Cloud whisps…?” Kageorgis seems momentarily nonplussed then looks along the ridge. “Oh, I see…” Constance gets the feeling that Kageorgis knows them as something else. “I chose this route for reasons of security, it is little frequented and you have to know the particular knacks of traversing each section – for example, if we had walked in any other direction than directly away from the sun, the attacking sandworm would not have been the one with a gate in its maw. Similarly this place has particular hazards – I see you have already recognised the crystalline plants as threats; there are other things to be wary of…”

Constance senses that those other dangers include the cloud whisps. “There is often great beauty in that which is most dangerous. Thank you for your explanation.”

Without another word Kageorgis starts walking slowly down the ridge, keeping a wary eye on the whisps of cloud. Constance can hear the eerie moan of the wind as it rushes up and over the ridge from the right.

Then she gets the feeling that the moans are not entirely an interaction between geography and meteorology. The moaning is actually coming from those whisps of cloud. And almost immediately she understands that the whisps of cloud are in fact unquiet spirits. Kageorgis has by now slowed, taking one small pace at a time, watching the spirits manifesting to the right as they rush toward the ridge.

Constance eyes open wider and, looking more wary, sticks to his every move. She starts noticing that some of the spirits hint at faces, many have ‘eyes’… some have teeth! It seems to be the latter of which Kageorgis is particularly wary. Constance is certain that these things are entirely spiritual in nature and can offer no physical threat, so the teeth are an outward expression of spiritual aggression. Kageorgis also seems to be avoiding those spirits that manifest a clearer anthropomorphic image. Those that just seem to be whisps of cloud he ignores.

The spirits don’t seem to have much control over their courses, any more than real mists and clouds can control theirs – they blow with the wind, quite literally. Thus Kageorgis’ tactics are to watch their courses and advance quickly once the way is clear. Quickly understanding his tactics, Constance adopts them and has Power Words in mind in case she needs to augment any of her abilities.

Physically it’s a doddle – the crunch will come if a spirit manages to engage, in which case it will probably devolve into a Psyche duel of some sort. Constance plays a nimble game of ‘avoid the things with teeth’. “Kageorgis,” she says quietly, “I have got a little magic that may be useful. Don't be too alarmed if I use it”. The glance he throws back at her might charitably be called sardonic, sarcastic is more accurate – so the little Amber girl offers magic to a denizen of Chaos?

But that moment when he takes his eyes off the spirits for a fleeting second is his undoing. Constance sees a misty amoeboid shape manifest from nothing a dozen yards away and swoop on the assassin with sickening speed. In the merest second it takes to close, the amorphous blob gains definition along with clawed limbs, fangs and blazing red eyes…

Kageorgis screams as the thing falls on him, bearing him to the ground.

Constance moves quickly and inserts her body as close as she possibly can to the spirit (to the point of inserting herself between it and Kageorgis) and sends it a mental challenge.

There’s no physicality to the thing at all. It looks as if it is wrestling with Kageorgis having grappled him with clawed limbs and is gnawing at his face but there’s no physical damage and Constance guesses that it is trying to break down the walls of his mind to possess him. Constance finds herself wrestling with Kageorgis too, but she can’t make the spirit look her in the eye. She needs to find some way to attract its attention…

In the middle of the three-way clinch, Constance casts Induce Fear on the spirit in an attempt to get its intention. Immediately it recoils from her even as it turns its gaze on hers.

As she feels the psychic contact, she can see in its eyes that she represents a far more powerful will and it is cowed by her presence. It withdraws from both her and Kageorgis and, seized by the winds, hurls past her over the precipice to the left and into oblivion.

Constance looks into Kageorgis' face. He looks shocked, panting heavily, eyes wide, he clutches at Constance, “We must not tarry or another will be upon us…”

Constance takes his arm and helps him to his feet. “We'd best be about it then. I can lead if you direct me to the next Portal. I can carry you if you can't walk.”

He gives her a funny look as she helps him to his feet. “Why should I not be able to walk? I assure you there is no physical damage.” He does seem physically unharmed and already he’s recovering from the shock but Constance can detect a faint rash on his face, looking like the hint of long-healed scars of a mauling.

Constance gives him a very relieved grin and turns her attention back to the spirits. Kageorgis also returns his attention to the spirits, this time refusing to be distracted by anything. The two make their way along the saddle. The slope to the right is broad and a relatively shallow 45 degrees but to the left a precipice drops down into a canyon. Now they are past the lowest part of the saddle Constance can see stars at the bottom of the canyon.

“The nature of the spirits is unpredictable. They only exist for the briefest of moments before entering oblivion over the Abyss. Most will do the same with any body they possess, hurling themselves into the Pit below. But a few seek a more permanent existence and I think the last was one of those.”

Constance listens to him with a look of distaste.

“You must have a most powerful will to have driven it off like that…” Kageorgis sounds slightly awed.

“Apparently so!” She agrees, “It didn't stop Spectral from getting into my thoughts though, did it?” She says in a slight bitter tone. “And you were in great need Kageorgis. Perhaps I am beginning to put aside my prejudices. Or maybe I just want that dance,” she smiles.

Kageorgis is silent for a minute as they climb slowly up the far side of the saddle. Looking back Constance can see they are already level with the lower peak. Not far now to the summit.

Finally the assassin breaks his silence and it seems it’s not just that he’s been concentrating on avoiding the spirits, the subject of Spectral is clearly on his mind.

“Spectral is one of those houses which are almost entirely spiritual in nature. It does not surprise me to learn that they were able to overcome even you. I cannot recall ever hearing of a Spectral beaten in psychic contest – frankly I doubt anyone aware of their nature would even make the attempt.”

“It had never been in my plans to be mind-raped Kageorgis. Never!” She shakes her head at the humiliation. “Spectral chose to do it to me and then to hold me as their guest.”

“Pardon, lady – it was not my intention to suggest you deliberately placed yourself in harm’s way, merely to offer testimony as to their nature.”

Constance collects herself. “There are those among Amber who have far more powerful abilities than I. They would need a reason to challenge Spectral – but they would do so and walk away unscathed,” she pauses, “I am not among those great. I am just an Arden Ranger. And having experienced Unman's hospitality,” she smiles coldly, “I am glad to have met you and the Order.”

“And yet there are those who, with regard to our profession, view House Spandrell quite as outré as House Spectral,” Kageorgis smiles nastily, “…with some justification.” The assassin takes a last look round, timing the last burst for the summit.

“Yes. But Spectral do not have the reputation of your House and you are an individual within your House.” She says as she follows him to the top. “Some of Chaos judge us as Amberites rather than as individuals. And it is mostly the same among the Amberites. That is the problem with mistrust.”

Kageorgis glances quickly at her; Constance thinks he has no idea what she’s talking about. “Quickly, now!” The assassin launches himself at the summit. Constance follows Kageorgis hard on his heels. Seconds later the two of them reach the higher peak and stop to catch their breath. Kageorgis seems suddenly much more relaxed.

[BTW Penny, the ridge with the whispy clouds passing across it I experienced myself with Gordon, Eric and RLG the first time we climbed Helvellyn, which has a double peak exactly as I describe. The wind was blowing from right to left and whisps were forming a dozen yards out, rushing past us and melting away a dozen yards to the left. Very eerie.]

“Now, if I am to return you to your rooms discretely, I will need an accurate description of the first place Ariel took you when you left Stormhold.”

Her eyes narrow as she recalls the journey. “Ariel took me through a tapestry of a garden gate. There was a wicker gate that we passed through and the garden was filled with plants and wild life. All were of different varieties but I had the intense feeling that all would consume me given the opportunity. We walked through the garden into what looked a dark hole in an artificial mound at the far side of the garden. From there we were in a large room with glass windows and a city view. It too, felt very alien. Is this what you meant Kageorgis – is it familiar?”

“Can you describe this garden?”

“Yes of course Kageorgis.” Her eyes go a little distant as she recalls the details. “It looked like a very formally designed garden, not natural to me. There was a taint of putrescence under the scent of flowers in the garden. I remember that no two of the plants in the garden were alike and that many of the flower heads turned to follow us as we walked past them. Those flowers had whip-lash tongues that flicked out of their flower heads. Some of them maybe a foot long. There were no birds, just insects and winged reptiles flitting about, some were keenly endowed with stings. It all seemed a bit of a threat.” She laughs slightly. “Ariel apologised for that. He said he was trying to create a natural landscape for me. Alas, to me it felt unwholesome.”

Constance can see Kageorgis’ thoughts mirrored in his face; he is easier to read as a human than a reptile. That it is a formal garden makes him think ‘of course, what other type is there?’ Then the reference to putrescence puzzles him, evidently none of the gardens he knows has that trait. He is similarly puzzled when Constance mentions how each plant is different, it’s like the concept of ‘species’ is alien to him – or perhaps he’s just not a horticulturalist? There’s an ‘ah-ah’ moment when she mentions the whiplash tongues and the presence of insects and winged reptiles without birds brings a smile of satisfaction.

She pauses. “Oh my Horned Lady! I distinctly remember him saying that the route he had chosen was very secure but it may be a little fraught on return. Oh, I am sorry for your inconvenience,” she says quietly.

“Not to worry, I think Ariel has shown me this garden before and I am confident I can find it from here. Please follow me.”

He hops nimbly down to a shelf about five feet below the summit on the far side of the approach.

Constance nods quickly back and gracefully follows him down into the shelf below. She takes a quick look at her surroundings.

There’s three low caves that look natural to her eye. The weird thing is that they’re all angled inward, dictated by all three going into the same rock, but they don’t meet – which, of course, proves that the one place they do not go is into the rock. Kageorgis enters the left-most cave. Constance watches and then swiftly follows his route into the left-most cave. She sniffs the air as she enters and tries to sense an air flow.

Initially there’s a light breeze at her back but quickly the air falls still as they penetrate within. She finds the cave is lit from about 7-8 yards in by what look like low-wattage light bulbs in the ceiling, linked by cabling that dips down between the bulbs. Then the two pass several doors to left and right, each a different design to the others: one a prison door, the next a split door, as for a stable, and so on. Kageorgis eventually halts Constance before a massive circular steel valve. He spins the locking wheel and with a hiss of released pressure the valve swings open to reveal a maze of gantries within. Constance can hear the noise of throbbing machinery.

Kageorgis gestures for her to go first, he has to lock the door behind them. Constance's eyes betray a little concern at the mechanical noises she can hear in the room beyond the door. She loosens a dagger and steps across the threshold.

Yes, Chaos certainly is weird. It takes Kageorgis about forty seconds to swing the obviously very heavy steel valve shut with a massive concussion that echoes like the ‘clang’ of doom and then spin the wheel to lock it firmly. This is long enough for Constance to realise this place is even more alien than the office Ariel took her to.

She’s on a metal lattice platform from which stairs go up and down to left and right and a gantry goes straight ahead. All three routes enter a network of gantries and companionways threaded around and between pipes, boilers and machinery. The noise is not quite deafening but it is obtrusive with hissing and clanging and throbbing and the occasional hammering. By the time Kageorgis is ready to move on Constance has gained the impression that there’s also a strange lateral movement, almost as if the entire space is in the pendulum of a clock.

Kageorgis says ‘This way’ and takes off along the gantry. Constance is increasingly uneasy about the sight, the movement and above all the nature and loudness of the noise in this place. She whispers a quick prayer to the Unicorn takes a breath and follows Kageorgis along the gantry. Things are not helped by the gantries being universally composed of a metal lattice that seems hardly strong enough to bear their weight and is completely see-through – good job Constance is not afraid of heights.

Then comes a scene from nightmare. As Kageorgis leads her through this open-plan metal rabbit-warren, they pass over a space where a dozen massive demons with multiple, muscular limbs are busy hurling head-sized lumps of coal into a huge furnace, which seems to be the main power-source for all the machinery.

But Constance’s acute senses can faintly hear voices screaming in protest, and she realises the voices belong to the individual lumps of coal. Her eyes go wide as she comprehends what is going on below. She hesitates briefly, blinks hard as she collects herself and follows on after Kageorgis.

By now Constance thinks the lateral movement is that of a ship – she and Kageorgis must be in some unbelievably huge metallic ship driven by truly colossal reciprocating engines. But finally the assassin opens a hatch in a piece of solid decking and gestures to her to step down. Constance acknowledges him and steps down away from the noise.

The throbbing and clashing of reciprocating engines fades away as she climbs down the ladder into darkness, and climbs, and climbs. Half way down the metal rungs become wooden and a short distance later the rungs become rope, then she emerges into light to find herself in what can only be a tree-house.

There is an increasing sense of relief from within Constance as she climbs away from the noise of machines and the screams of protest. She feels lighter in mood as her hands identify the change from metal to wood and then to rope. Mindful of just how weird Chaos can be she is alert and watching for threats as she gazes at the tree house and the view beyond it.

This is an upmarket tree-house. The three windows are without glass but they do have shutters, all of which are thrown back on what looks like a glorious summer’s afternoon. One window shows a view of the wood, the one opposite of a lawn, but Constance recognises the third view as of Ariel’s garden – and she recognises the smell too.

Kageorgis scrambles lithely down the ladder to join her at the window. “Am I right? Is this the place?”

Constance cocks her head slightly upward to regard him. “Yes Kageorgis.” She smiles brightly. “You are very right indeed.” She turns her gaze back towards the view. “Are we safe here for a little while? It is good to have silence after the noise of those machines.”

“Safe?” Kageorgis savours the word as if it’s a novel concept. “Well this is a thoroughfare, albeit one rarely used. There is nothing in our immediate vicinity that might harm us.” Constance can tell from his tone and the way he eyes the garden that he makes no guarantees once out of the tree-house. “But we should not tarry long ere someone happens upon us.”

“So not at all really,” she says in a business-like way. “Could you at least tell me what was that place with the engines and protesting spirits before we continue?” She keeps a watchful gaze out the window.

He shrugs. “It was just a place on the way to somewhere else. Most such wayfares are modelled on places visited or reported of in Shadow. It was not always so, but that was a long time ago, before my time.”

“Mmmm.” Constance mulls on this. “Could you hear the cries of the coals?”

“What coals?”

“The coals being fed to the...” she shakes her head. “…Never mind! “Kageorgis. If you can't be seen with me how will you dance with me at the ball? And who is it we are avoiding exactly?”

“At the ball we will dance as other’s dance, as befitting the particular… dance. But I am astonished at your question; surely you cannot have noticed the degree of discretion taken over the meeting of our Order? Outside of the Order, hopefully none are currently aware that you have left Stormhold, or indeed that many of us are abroad. Can you not see the manifold reasons for discretion? Aside from the issue of our Order being banned, House Jesby will shortly be asking after Sorpovin and do you wish your part in his demise to become known to them? He was, if I recall, second or third in line to President Rolovians and he bore the Streak of Yellow.”

“Kageorgis, I completely understand the need for discretion. Ariel warned me that I was likely to be under observation but I wondered if there was a threat I wasn't already aware of. As to Jesby, I guess the sooner you discharge your duty of me the sooner I…” she pauses, “…we, can claim plausible deniability.”

“Just so…” The assassin looks down at the ladder which continues to the ground. “My lady…?”

Constance goes to start the climb down the ladder. She stops and looks back up at the assassin and her eyes narrow. “How ought I be referring to you, Kageorgis, or how would you prefer to be addressed?”

The assassin looks bemused that this question should cross Constance’s mind so late in the day, when she’d been calling him by name since the meeting broke up. “Well, away from the formality of the Order, I would say names are best. Why, did you have something else in mind, Lady Constance?”

“I wondered that as you don't appear to use a formal title if, in private, you would do me the favour of dropping titles and just call me Constance?” She gives him a small smile.

Kageorgis chuckles. “Well my formal title is ‘kalorës’ but Spandrell don’t dwell on mundane titles much – you are what you do, not what you are called. I realise this flies in the face of general opinion but there you go.”

Constance covers her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Now I really think we need to leave here soon...”

She climbs nimbly down the ladder. Jumps off at the bottom rung and turns in an alert stance.

The afore-mentioned wood seems dark and forbidding, wild and unkempt with untended undergrowth, not at all like what you’d expect next to a formal garden – bye-the-bye, there’s no sign of any house to go with the garden. Behind her the formal lawn is laid out for something like croquet but the mallets and balls are bloodstained and there’s something like an outline of a corpse as would be set out by police, except that it’s stained onto the grass, like lines on a football pitch. The outline has four arms. The head of the outline is also heavily bloodstained.

Then the tree holding the tree house has an ominous feel. Constance senses that it is somehow watching her. It seems to be leaning over the tree house and glaring down. A couple of branches seem to be groping toward her – perhaps they are being blown by a breeze… but there’s no wind!

By now Kageorgis has joined her and he seems shifty and nervous too – there’s no specific threat, merely a feeling of being watched by something very, very, other. “This place is unsettling, L… Constance. I think it realises that we are not Ariel.”

By now Constance has drawn her sword and is beginning to carefully back away from the tree towards the direction of the formal garden. Half watching the branches and half watching Kageorgis. “It is an interesting forest, is it not, Kageorgis? The formal garden I clearly remember. If you would lead towards the next Portal I will guard our rear.”

Kageorgis, hand on dagger-hilt, advances with measured strides a dozen yards, to the edge of the formal garden. As Constance follows him she sees nothing move with them or follow their progress, though that sense of watchful otherness does not diminish.

“I am afraid I must leave you here, my la… Constance. But you should be able to make your own way from here, I think?” He pauses to survey the flowers warily. “You do recall where you entered?”

Constance can see the gate Ariel brought her in by off to the right. “Yes. Thank you, Kageorgis. I can see the wicker gate. Nothing followed us thus far. Can I assist you in any way now?” She watches back behind him.

“No, I think I will be fine once you’ve gone. I would like to escort you to the gate, but then I would have to navigate the garden back and I am uncertain if that is safe. However I think it would be distinctly unsafe for you if I were to leave now, so I shall wait until you are through.”

“In which case, thank you for your advice, your kindness and your skill in returning me thus.” She bows deeply with her sword still to hand.

“And farewell to you Constance, for providing much entertainment and also for your intervention on ghost ridge. I am sure we will meet again soon and we shall dance at the ball.” He also bows.

Constance rises with sad smile. She turns back towards the formal garden and realises with concern that she does not know the path from where she is stood now to the wicker gate as on the outward trip with Ariel, they walked from the wicker gate to the ice house.

“Ah. Kageorgis,” she pauses. “My route with Ariel was directly from the gate to the ice house. I ... I really have no idea where the safe route is from here. Could I call on you further please?”

The assassin blinks. “I really wish I could help you, Constance. But I have no notion of the correct path to follow. Even if I could recall either of my previous visits with Ariel, there is no guarantee the safe paths would not have changed since.”

“Ahhhhh.” She considers looking back across the lawn with narrowed eyes. “It could of course be any distance from 1 inch to 1000 miles. There could be a mountain, or 6 extra portals to reach there.”

Kageorgis gazes at her, uncomprehending – there’s obviously nothing but thirty yards of garden between her and the gate.

Constance sheathes her sword as she speaks a quiet prayer. She stills herself and considers the area in front of her – in particular the way she would reach the path she already knows between the ice house and the gate. She brings up her Psyche, studies the area, starts to almost tune into her intuition to sense if a particular way forward seems more right than any other.

She’s pretty sure the first step is safe, toward the centre of the garden, so she takes that step, and another. All looking good so far. Constance is getting a sense for which flowers are dangerous, where to keep to one side of the path, where to keep to the middle.

Then she gets a distinctive prickle at the back of the neck – something around here is hostile! She quickly spots the small tree/large bush right in front has a nest of insectoids in it. A couple are hovering between her and their nest. Being stung by garish red beeoids could be nasty – and downright dangerous if the victim over-reacts and stumbles toward one of those vampire flowers. But forewarned is forearmed and Constance takes a different route. A few more detours such as this make for a circuitous advance but a couple of minutes later she is close to the path Ariel took her earlier.

It is at this point that the prickling at the back of her neck returns and she realises that some plants have withered since she was last past and others have sprung up – also the flying insects and reptiloids are following different paths. All of which means she cannot simply backtrack the earlier route but must find a new one of her own.

Constance remains still, feeling out with her mind and observing the movements of the insects, mapping this onto the garden and her route to the gate. She is looking for a sense of how the insects and plants sense, eg by movement, colour, sound or maybe scent, with a mind to potential use of some Power Words. But most of all she is listening to her Intuition.

Constance feels threats all around, but she feels slightly less threat to her left, so she turns at right angles and starts groping her way through the garden to the wicker gate. It takes longer than it should. Unfortunately her method involves making immediate and very short-term decisions at each nexus. She suspects if she could get a better acquaintance with the garden she might be able to plan a route in advance. She’s sure Ariel can do this, but then she comes to understand that this is Ariel’s garden.

She smiles thin lipped as she reaches the gate unharmed, bar a couple of frights. But she is sure that the garden is more hostile to her now than it was when she was with Ariel. She suspects that Ariel and the garden are connected on some deeper level; the garden’s hostility to her now reflects Ariel’s bitter leave-taking. Its hostility is his hostility. This is why Kageorgis said he would see her through the gate before leaving – his presence ameliorates the garden’s anger.

Her smile and concentration falters as she realises the cause of the sense of hostility in the garden and the effect of her disgrace is laid bare before her. “I so regret my actions”, she speaks quietly. Shaken and saddened, her eyes bright with tears, she raises her gaze, seeking Kageorgis.

The assassin waves cheerfully from thirty yards away and blows a kiss before turning away. Constance senses that the kiss is in no way romantic and even a little self-mocking.

The wicker gate awaits, which is just as well because the humming and buzzing of the local wildlife rises a note and takes on an air of fury with Kageorgis’ departure. Definitely time to go.

Constance passes quickly through the wicker gate and finds herself back in her room. Something tells her that it might be a good idea to fold up the tablecloth on the wall and replace the tapestry, in the interests of discretion.