[pfsb]

[acrookedpath]

The good news: the energy-revealing array works!

The bad news --

It's not bad news, he insists to himself. It just... is. It's a complication, a hole in the road, a little snare tripping him up. That's all. It doesn't have to be more. It might not even be in the first place, yes? He is dead, Lan Zhan is alive, of course seeing just how very alive would stir something in him. That's all it is.

Right?

Never mind that he's fairly certain if he placed the same array on Harrow, or Tom-gongzi, or Ingress, he would not have been struck the same way. That -- it's ridiculous, this is all ridiculous, and that's why he's out here by the lake, standing on a flat rock with another array of talismans fluttering in his hand.

The key is not just luring resentful energy from the forest, despite the suppression around the inn. It is how swiftly he can do it. During his coffee-fueled spree of work last night, he drew up some new lures that ought to work faster than a traditional set. Now he scatters them in a wide circle around his feet, gestures sharply, and sends a bolt of red energy into the yellow paper slips.

Silently, in his head, he begins to count. One... two... three...

At the count of thirteen, something boils at the forest's edge, dark and oily.

Wei Wuxian smiles and lifts his flute to meet it.

Comments

[we_bring_hell]

She nods. "I am sure it will be informative."

"It is indeed remarkable how many different sources and kinds of magic apparently exist--Aes Sedai, Openers, cultivators and wizards, city magics, talking horses."

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian is nodding along to this whole list, ready to agree and perhaps discuss the strangeness of so many varied types of magic --

-- and then the proverbial record scratch hits on the last two words.

Blankly: "Talking horses?"

[we_bring_hell]

"Lady Ingress is the--cavalier, essentially--to a magical creature that she assures me is not a horse, although it looks like one," she says calmly.

[acrookedpath]

"Huh," he says weakly, and scratches his nose in his usual absentminded tic. "A tianma, maybe? I will have to ask. That's, ah. Not what I expected when she said she was a Herald."

[we_bring_hell]

"I found it unusual myself," she says, still calm. "As my own cavalier has grown frustrated in my service. Perhaps Gideon Nav would prefer it if I had four hooves and a mane she can brush."

Something bitter and honest squirts out with that irony.

[acrookedpath]

He sobers, regarding Harrow anew. After a moment he sets down his pen.

Quiet, "Things still do not go well with Gideon? More than before?"

[we_bring_hell]

She exhales. "Shortly before I came here she asked to be released to serve the Seventh, in the time she has left to live. Perhaps any of us have left."

[acrookedpath]

Unconsciously, he mirrors her exhalation, closing his eyes as if in pain.

No louder, he says, "I am sorry, Harrow."

[we_bring_hell]

"I have been inexcusably cruel to her," she says in a small hopeless voice that sounds very little like herself.

"Perhaps never moreso than when I refused her request. If we are all going to die I will die beside her. And I will have told her the truth. All of it."

[acrookedpath]

The last time Harrow sounded this upset, he thinks, was the day they first met. The day he accidentally struck such a cruel blow of his own, in his ignorance of what she desired to keep secret.

And yes, perhaps it would have been kinder of her to let Gideon go, but he cannot deny the ache of understanding: if we are all going to die I will die beside her.

"Perhaps she will understand why you did not release her, once she knows the entire truth," he says. It is all he can offer.

[we_bring_hell]

"Or perhaps she will kill me," she says, aiming for calm. Surprisingly, she finds it. She has had the thought more than once, but it feels good to say it aloud. "The lone survivor takes vengeance for her crechemates. It would be fit."

[acrookedpath]

His mouth twists a little, wryly. "I hope it will not come to that," he says.

He almost asks, will you fight back? or will you go to your death willingly? -- but, well. Speaking of cruelties. And if Wei Wuxian is honest with himself... he is afraid to ask.

(Harrow has not yet appeared in his nightmares alongside the Wen remnants, but he still believes it is only a matter of time.)

[we_bring_hell]

She swallows. "I saw the corpses of the Fourth. I would rather have Gideon Nav."


She looks down. "I am sorry. My distraction has turned to ashes. My emotions are--erratic."

[acrookedpath]

The wry quirk to his mouth grows to an equally wry smile.

"There is no need to apologize," he says. "I would not call them erratic. Sometimes our burdens grow heavy enough that we cannot keep everything so neat and contained. And besides," he adds, lighter, "I seem to remember I wept like a child in your quarters not too long ago. Your emotions do not trouble me."

[we_bring_hell]

"I asked you," she reminds him, "to share something painful from your life."

"The tragedy of Canaan House sprung to my mind unbidden, when we were trying to speak of lighter things." Her voice is wry, describing it so, but she is not joking. Not at all.

[acrookedpath]

"All the same," he says, gently, "I am still not troubled. If it hurts you to speak of it, then do not speak of it. But if you only worry of hurting me -- do not."

[we_bring_hell]

She thinks about it.

"I need not rehearse all our griefs," she says. "Only this--the only hope is to become a Lyctor. Not just for the Ninth, anymore, but for all of us in the House. Something is hunting us, one of us is a traitor, and without Lyctoral power I believe we will surely die."

"Of the available candidates, I believe it must be me, Palamedes Sextus, or--to my utter shock--Ianthe Tridentiarius."

[acrookedpath]

Which is... far above and beyond the troubles he last heard of Canaan House. Wei Wuxian breathes out, frowning.

"Can you gather any help from outside Canaan House?" he asks. "Help from here? If people can cross from the inn to other worlds..."

[we_bring_hell]

"From here, perhaps," she says, frowning. "There is no way to send a distress call to the Cohort--the idiots of the Second have been demanding it, and the priests of the First keep telling them it is impossible."

"But from here, perhaps." She hasn't considered this before. "There are some heirs I would rather not share the secret with, but... yes, perhaps."

[acrookedpath]

He nods.

"I am not sure how much I can help," he admits. "I reacted so poorly to your thanergy that I do not know what would happen if I stood in Canaan House as more than a paper doll. But I will do what I can, should you wish it."

[we_bring_hell]

"I think you would find as much resentful energy as you could bear, in Canaan House."

Perhaps too much. The sum of all necromantic transgression, Teacher had warned.

"When I return I will have to deal with the Sixth, before anything else. If you saw Camilla Hect waiting outside our suite... I'm not sure what it could be, but it bodes poorly."

[acrookedpath]

"Do you have any idea?" He's frowning again. "Even a slight one?"

[we_bring_hell]

She thinks. "Two possibilities come to mind."

"I like the Sixth, but I have feared they may be allied with the Seventh, who I do not trust. That shoe may have dropped."


"Alternatively, Gideon may have found the head in my closet."

[acrookedpath]

"Yes, that could be it," says Wei Wuxian blandly. "Is there a reason for the head in your closet?"

Harrow, what. Yes, necromancers, he is not squeamish, et cetera, but what.

[we_bring_hell]

"I didn't have time to take the whole body," she deadpans.




"Everyone thinks Dulcinea the Seventh is a sad, pretty invalid. While I wasn't paying attention she seems to have wrapped Gideon and Palamedes around her finger. But her cavalier was dead before he set foot on the First. She's been puppeting the corpse for weeks. I know the signs."

"When I finally got a chance to test the necromantic theorems on him, the spell collapsed immediately. And it is good that I took the head, because whoever took the rest of the body destroyed it to hide the evidence. Unfortunately, I don't know who to trust, so it's been sitting in my closet in a box."

"The spell backlash should've killed her--she is bed-ridden but still alive. I do not know how. I do not trust her." And her mistrust had--arguably--gotten the Fourth killed. "And I am not jealous."