[djo]

Here's my turn 6. It's long--I may just post to the wiki if they stay this length. I've got to start pacing myself...I didn't intend to do all 3 POV in one turn, but what can you do.

3 turns/1 week (or so) to get a yarn in is a little faster than I'd prefer. Maybe we can shift the yarn check to +6 or even +9 turns? I'm already starting to lag. I'd limit turn 9 to one POV (I've got a good idea for Vethru), but I don't think I can wait any longer to introduce Galameteia.


Vanheim turn 6 (also on the wiki)

In which Belletennares gains something he did not seek, Pherios is found by something he was seeking, and Vethru just snoops.


Vethru

It's a breezy summer day. I'm pacing in the library when Quellian Ji flies in. He drops a scroll on the table, lands, clears his throat, and extends a wing. " 'All I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying/And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the seagulls crying,' " he recites.

I laugh. "So now you're a mind reader?"

"Tk-k-k. Five libraries in the castle, and you hole up in the smallest one? Why you think that is?"

"It's quiet," I say.

Ji squawks. "Look out the window! It's the only library with a view of the water."

"Land of sailors ..." I say. "Some fishing boats on an inland lake. Racing shells. A few traders."

"But it's still in 'em," he says. "I've been down by the docks. They've all got salt water in their veins. They're the real deal."

"Maybe. It's not the same."

"Sorry, boss," Ji says. "But it's not forever. We'll be out of here someday, right? This, too, shall pass, and all that?"

I nod. This will pass. I'll pass it by. In a hundred years, or a thousand, I may not remember Vanheim and its land-locked sailors. Life is motion; existence is change. It takes astonishingly little time before everything you love fades into indistinct, blurry memories, and you're left with an empty soul, a feeling you can't believe will also fade, but it does--you stumble into unexpected beauty or kindness, and your heart thaws and starts to beat again. And it happens over and over and over.

On the other hand, I don't live, and my heart doesn't beat, so why should you listen to me?

I open the scroll. It's written in an elegant, feminine hand. The neat lines trail down and to the right. It reads:


Project Excelsior is progressing. I hope to have the results you want by the end of the year. On the other matter, I can give you one squad per month, but I'm not sure they're worth the resources. It will take much longer before we can do better. Send me more dwarves!

Come visit the tower, my friend. There are many fascinating mysteries we can discuss.

Yours in service, T.


"She gives me the creeps," says Ji.

"Why? It's no different than what I did. A little messier. What she did took cojones. I like that."

"Frankly, boss, sometimes you give me the creeps, too."

"Do you scare yourself when you pass a mirror? Because you've walked that path, too, my friend."

Ji shivers. "Never again."

"Not even to save your life?"

"Please don't ask me that." Ji is still uncomfortable with the liberties I take with the "natural order" of things. All in good cause, of course,

We watch tiny figures drifting over the hills of the city. "This place is getting to me," he says. "I like it better when we're the only weird, mythological things wandering around."

"Not this time," I say. "It won't be easy, with other powers active. We'll be fighting for everything. And if they figure out what I'm after..."

"Gah. Creepy. And they take it all for granted! Belletennares leads the army like he was born to be the anointed one of a god," Ji says. "I hate that. It took me forever to get used to it."

"He's perfect," I reply. I watch the Valkyries in the sky. Graceful creatures, and deadly. And all of them quite beautiful. I wonder if I know the death god who gave them their powers. I'd like to buy him lunch. "And what about young Pherios? We've never been anticipated so specifically. He even managed to pull you into his dream."

"Like a puppet! I have no idea where those words came from. Or what they mean."

"Watch him. Talk to him, when you find the right moment. We need him. He's got great potential."

"OK, boss. Whatever you say."

"House Alteion will win us this war," I say. "They are extraordinary."

Ji says, "Blech. They're extraordinary, I'm extraordinary, you're extraordinary. We've got a real shortage of ordinary around here."

"And round me up some Valkyries. I have an idea."


Pherios

"Quack, quack. Quack?"

I stared at the ducks swimming in Alteion's fountain. One of them stared back for a moment, then got bored and left. Smart duck.

The ducks weren't telling me anything. As far as I could tell, they were just swimming around in circles, and it didn't mean anything. None of the scholars on Triastellus could read the parchments Vethru gave me to show around. And no one could tell me anything about a Valkyrie who sketched the skies from the hill. I looked up at great-grandfather's statue and despaired.

"Hey, Pherios!" I turned around in time to be swept up in Petema's embrace. "Ah, little cousin," she said. She called us all cousins, even though she was the eldest of the family now. Although she wore a few wrinkles and grey hairs, she still chose to ride with the army rather than sit on the Konella Koreia. "How are you? What are you doing on Triastellus?"

"Everything and nothing." I looked up at Alteion again. "Not enough."

She laughed. "He's not grading you." People in the busy square were starting to watch us. I wasn't used to it, people pointing at me and whispering. I can't even figure out how they know who I am, or why they care. Petema noticed, took my arm, and said, "Let's go get a drink."

Once in a comfortable tavern a couple blocks away from Alteion's tomb, I showed her the papers, a collection of a dozen pages in a dozen alien alphabets. They all were recent copies, of what, I don't know. The scribe who gave them to me claimed the originals had been written by Vethru himself.

"This one doesn't even look like writing," Petema said. "What are all those lines for? They're not pretty enough to be art. Sorry," she said, handing them back to me. "I don't recognize the writing. Your father might know. Too bad, the real linguist in the family was Tilneia. Poor kid. Vethru is really interested in antiquities, isn't he? I've seen scholars running all over the hill, even a few dwarves."

"Yes. Every time I talk to him, he's in one of the libraries, reading old books, or talking to the old Jarls on the council."

"Have you found anyone who could read them?"

"Not yet. Just one guy who said he saw something like it in Cimri once."

"And what about your girlfriend? Any luck finding her?"

"What?" I said. "I mean, how...?"

"Old Epimerius told me. He's the keeper of the Meila Galleria. He told me you were asking about a Valkyrie after you showed him these papers. What? What's wrong?"

"I'm not supposed...I mean, I did see her--thought I saw her, thought she was, or, might be in danger...but I guess that wasn't what I was thinking of when I went looking for her. I shouldn't have been wasting my time on my own...um...pursuits?"

She smiled and touched my arm. "It's OK. Don't worry, cousin. There's time for everything. Listen. You know there's going to be tough times ahead. Better than me."

"A few years," I said. "Maybe more. Probably."

"A few years--it doesn't sound like much. You think you can focus on the war and leave all the rest for later. Put it all out of your mind and do your duty, and nothing else. But those five years, you've got to live them. There are a lot of moments to fill. You can't spend all your time fighting or studying or planning. You'll go nuts. Do you want to end up as serious as your dad? Besides, when you think Alteion met Philia?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. He started out like you, you know? Mom always described him as a skinny kid running around the hill with the future in his eyes. He met Mom, predicted the Utreian war, and won it with time to spare."

"That's hard to live up to," I said.

"Wrong lesson," she said. "Don't live up to him--live up yourself. I see changes, too. I think a new era is beginning. Alteion had his. It's going to be up to you and me what the next one will be like. Not Alteion."

"So," Petema continued, "Be strong, but be yourself. And remember your family; we'll look out for you."

"Thanks," I said.

"And you look out for us!" She said this very seriously, but her face immediately became carefree again. "I've got to go--good luck finding your Valkyrie, and write to your mother!"

With new optimism, I visited another handful of antiquarians, but my hopes quickly waned. I had no luck in my searches, either of them. I didn't think I'd ever succeed.

Some seer I am. She was waiting in my little turret when I arrived back at the castle.

Belletennares

They call me a hero They call me prophet, the chosen one of god. They tell me, yes, you were right all along. The troubles started, just as you described. You have shown foresight and wisdom, and for that, we place in your command the defense of our nation. They laud my every decision, follow my orders without question. I serve Vanheim as few are ever called to do.

I find no comfort in any of it. I sought responsibilities, not honors. I have foreseen this cusp of history, prepared for it, and led my people to meet it, but I feel as much dread as any of us when I speak the words: the war has begun.

Our little skirmishes with neighboring provinces seeking to evade responsibilities of ancient, and they say forgotten and irrelevant, treaties, are no more than a wisp of smoke to the coming firestorm. Pherios predicted it, and now we have begun to receive reports, travellers' tales, really, of the disintegration of peace across the land.

To the west, Man has dared to take Stone Grave Mountain. The Konella Koreia believes Man's new leader, Selena the Great Enchantress, to be rational, so diplomats have been sent to their land to warn her of the dangers of further encroachment. I hope they are correct, but I fear that someday we will need to remind Man that, though the reputation of their vaunted wardens and foresters and their clever woodcraft is not undeserved, Vanir and Valkyries, too, may pass without being detected by mortal eyes.

There is plague to the north, but that is no surprise from the dead lands. Some days I look around the stony hills of our provinces, not half so green as I remember from my youth, and wonder if it has not already touched us.

In the east, a great red dragon has been sighted flying over the Black Gorge. It is a sign that the lizards rise again. Once we were allies, of a kind--I remember they made a small contribution in the wars with the giants. Some part of me hopes we will again find the lizards to be friendly. I mentioned this to Vethru (I am back in Vanheim for a short time), and he, to my surprise, for I can rarely determine the quarter of his thoughts, agreed. Something about them fascinates him.

Elsewhere, there is little news. The Pythian empire grows again. Their legions march, but not toward us. To the south, Tenecheia (or however their name is rendered; I cannot write their native script) is wracked, they say, by some internal catastrophe, but I can pay little credence to the single tale we've heard from that region.

I must put these reports from my mind. My brother can exercise his intellect upton the contemplation of distant lands, and his son may divine the future. I work in the here and now. Tomorrow I ride for Namor in another wasteful demonstration of the sanctity of treaties forged with Vanheim. Some of the younger men who have just joined us think of this as an opportunity for honor and glory. Tomorrow they may be as wary of glory as I, and learn that honor cannot be hunted.