Synchronicity #2
“I appreciate the enthusiasm,” I chuckle. “But people need to keep in mind that we’re trying to entice people, not scandalize them.”
“Maybe a little scandal, as a treat. There’s something terribly exciting about putting on a show for the uninitiated,” they say before they finish their list with a flourish. “There. All my debaucheries.”
Cancassi isn’t the only one with ideas. Everyone who signs up to perform has a short essay of them. And when Garrett arrives back from the construction site later in the evening, I don’t look up from Ambra’s activity list.
“We work with a bunch of deviants,” I mutter.
Garrett chuckles as he comes to sit across from me. “You sound surprised.”
I rub my head. “Not surprised. Not even mad, really. They’re creative, but I’m having a hard time striking a balance between ‘enticing’ and ‘offending,’” I say before I give a wry grin. “Call me crazy, but I don’t think an on-stage piss-party would go over well for a first show.”
Garrett barks a laugh. “Nope. Absolutely not. Far too much cleanup.”
I chuckle and set the stack of activity lists aside as I sink back into the chair. “How’d the groundbreaking go?”
“About as smooth as it could have,” he says. “We have a foundation laid, though we need more raw materials before we can transmute the walls.”
Through my exhaustion, the flame of excitement flickers back to life. “This is really happening.”
Garrett grins at me from across the desk. “How does it feel?”
We still have so much to do, but the pieces are moving. I let out a small laugh. “It feels like good progress.”
“It sure is,” he says. “I had my reservations about this, but... this project has lifted the mood around the Crux. People are excited.”
Hearing that is like a balm. “I hoped I wasn’t imagining it,” I admit. “I know we’re all... stressed right now. So much is happening that we have so little control over.”
“And now you’ve given the Crux something they do have control over,” Garrett says. “The Crucible is a smart move, Gal.”
My cheeks flush with warmth. “Thank you. Hopefully Arlon feels the same when he gets back.”
Garrett tsks. “You got to stop thinking about what Arlon would like. He’s not the acting Grandmaster right now. You are.”
Sitting in Arlon’s chair still feels wrong some days, but I try to push the doubt aside. Then, the air over the desk ripples.
“Speak of the sun and it shines,” Garrett says before he gets up and circles around the desk to join me.
I straighten as Arlon’s face materializes in the sending. He’s dressed in a fine maroon tunic that’s adorned with black leather accents. His hair is coiffed, his beard cut to a neat and even length. His smile is tired but genuine as he focuses on the two of us.
“Looking good, Arlon,” Garrett says. “I’ll tell Bri you like the wardrobe she got you.”
Arlon snorts a laugh before another figure appears in the sending. My mouth drops open.
“Olbric,” I breathe, and I’m so happy to see him that I almost miss how stunning he looks.
Ambra and I may have taught him the basics of makeup when we first dressed him up, but he’s since far surpassed my skill with it.
He looks soft and feminine, wearing a gown of sunflower silk that’s a beautiful contrast to his long black hair.
Over his bare shoulders rests a web of thin, golden chains.
“It’s good to see your face, Gal,” he says, and I’m smiling so wide it feels like my cheeks are going to crack. Seeing them both well and whole helps ease some of the tension between my shoulder blades.
“The King wishes to get a message to the Queen Mother,” Arlon says. “Let’s get that out of the way first.”
“Right,” I say before I pull out a piece of parchment and quill. “Ready.”
The official message isn’t promising. The talks have stagnated.
The King of Immenbach has been intransigent in his demands, which are namely: unfettered access to magiline, forfeiture of the eastern and western slopes of the Hobokin mountains and every mine they contain, including the major city of Frostcliff.
All of that on top of the death of Allisande Maxwell .
“Please tell me the King isn’t considering that last demand,” I say, voice tight.
“He flat out refused,” Arlon says through a sigh. “And gods willing, the death of his kin isn’t something he’ll haggle on. I’m hoping that when the Immen heir finally arrives, he’ll be able to talk some sense into his father, though gods only know what’s holding him up.”
My thoughts flash to Margeurite, and I make a mental note to check in with her. She deserves to know what’s going on with her lover’s situation, as painful as it may be to hear.
“Does Allis know?” I ask. “Are you keeping her appraised?”
Pain flashes across Arlon’s face. “I am.”
That can’t be an easy task. Before she left, Allis vacillated between abject hopelessness and a fiery sort of rage. Looking at Arlon, I wonder if some of that fire wasn’t extinguished into him.
“Anything else I should share with the Queen?” I ask, and Arlon is pulled back from his thoughts.
He sighs and says, “Luther Barclay is denying Immenbach’s involvement with the missing Tower wizards.”
“What?” I say and am echoed by Garrett’s snort.
“I’m certain he’s lying,” Arlon says. “The King and his advisers all agree. Either Luther Barclay is holding out knowledge of them until he needs to use them as a negotiating piece, or he’s using them for some other purpose.
The latter thought is... worrying, but we still can’t act on that front.
Not when the talks are already so tense. ”
I finish taking my notes. “Understood. I have a meeting with the Queen in a few days. I’ll report this to her then.”
“Thank you, Galiva,” Arlon says through a sigh. “How are things at the Crux?”
“It’s been going smoothly, sir,” I say, my eyes flicking to Garrett’s.
I’m harboring so many doubts about the Crucible that I don’t want to share news of it yet.
“No fires to put out aside from a few more harassers at the gate, though. The Queen is... tepid about me, but I hope I’ll be able to raise her temperature up to lukewarm. ”
Olbric chuckles and says, “You’ll have her cooked in no time.”
I roll my eyes, but my smile softens. “You both have been missed.” I look to Olbric as I ask, “How is everything outside of the talks?”
“It’s been... nice seeing my sisters,” Olbric says. “So, better than expected.”
Arlon seems surprised by that statement. A small grin graces his lips as something in his shoulders relaxes. Olbric’s anger appears to have cooled, and the effect that has on Arlon is palpable, even a continent away.
“We’re going to a ball tonight,” Arlon says.
“Your favorite,” Garrett chuckles, and Arlon makes a face. I can’t quite stifle my grin. Even at the Crux, it’s a rare time when Arlon attends any of the larger gatherings. Yet when it’s a royal function, he acts like he’s allergic.
“You two are certainly dressed for it,” I say. “That gown is stunning, Olbric.”
“Another Varice creation,” he says before he gives a little spin, sending the full skirts billowing. “I’ll take a ball over suffering through the tedium of negotiations any day. Being made to sit through hours of conferences with the Shykhdar is exactly why I ran away from home, you know.”
Arlon lets out a rumble of a laugh. “Then how about this. You attend these mandatory entertainments, and I’ll handle the talks.”
“Deal,” Olbric says, and it warms my heart to see them more at ease with one another again.
My grin fades, and I debate opening myself up to more hurt before I finally ask, “Have... either of you spoken to Dom?”
“I have,” Olbric says quietly. “He’s alright. He’s safe.”
Arlon and I lock eyes through the sending, and I can tell both of us want to ask more. I sigh, some of my frustrations bubbling out. “Is that all I get?”
Olbric shifts, crossing his arms over his chest. It’s the same stubborn pose he uses before he talks back at me in a casting room. “What more do you want?”
“I don’t know - any information?” I ask, exasperated. “When will he be back?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why does he want to find his mother?” I ask. “Why couldn’t he wait?”
Olbric’s jaw ticks. “That’s his business.”
I take a breath, reining my frustration back even as the old hurt rears its head. “Why didn’t you two talk to me? We could have figured something out.”
Olbric sighs as he uncrosses his arms. He drags his fingers through his hair before he meets my eyes in the sending with a helpless sort of shrug. “You were busy.”
I was expecting him to give some excuse, say that they were afraid I’d tell Arlon. But there’s a truth to Olbric’s statement that hits hard and unexpected. Yet before I can respond, the world around me flashes bright.
I gasp in surprise, eyes clenching shut against the sudden flash.
Beside me, Garrett swears as the Crux around us lets out a low rumble.
For a moment, it almost sounds like the rockslide Dom diverted in the Crags, a deep grinding noise like stone against stone.
Through my eyelids, the light fades, and I wait a moment longer before I warily open them.
I blink the spots away before I look up at Garrett.
His eyes are wide, and he asks exactly what I’m thinking as he chokes out, “What the fuck was that?”
I look to where Arlon and Olbric had been, but they’re gone. Either the sending broke apart, or whatever that... surge was disrupted it. I hold my breath, waiting to see if it happens again, but the shimmering in the tower around us gradually fades to back its usual soft, inert glow.
“I don’t have a clue,” I say, a little dazed. The spots in my eyes are stubborn, but as the minutes tick by and no new catastrophic flashes of light occur, they fade. I reach for my spells on instinct only to pull my hand away with a gasp.
The marble that Arlon left for me is hot to the touch, the light of magic pulsing faintly within it. I don’t know what to make of it. I still haven’t figured out what the spell even is.
“Where’d that come from?” Garrett asks as he notices the spell.