Chapter XXXII: Thorax
Chapter XXXII: Thorax
* * * * * *
“Consider what follows:
“The Web was made by and consists of the Logos: the Law, the Code, and the Word of the World. All things are the Word. Words are inherently comprised of smaller parts and carry an intended meaning. Thus, all things in the world are comprised of smaller parts, and these parts form the Word, and this Word carries an intended meaning. If one were to change one letter in a word, it would change the word, and thus change its meaning from what was originally intended. So it is with the Word, this being the Logos.
“The Web is the Word, and words carry information. The Web itself is comprised of information, and all things are comprised of data that forms complex information. If any one point of data is changed, the Code of the World is changed. When the Code of the World is changed, it is akin to a letter being changed in a word, which then changes the word, which then changes the sentence. Thus, all meaning of the original information is changed also, and the original intended meaning is lost.
“The Logos is the Web and the maker of the Web. This creation was imparted with an intended meaning. The meaning was given to Our Founder in revelation, and it is not to be changed.
“The way of the cybramancer is to rend data and change the Code, so as to rewrite the world as the user sees fit. Consider, for the reasons above, why it is then forbidden.”
— Excerpt from the “Book of Analogues,” from The Books of Black and White
* * * * * *
After the third time, Coin was expecting to be forced away, and they did not disappoint. A short shove was all that was needed, and he found himself colliding with a nearby wall. Thankfully, he’d maneuvered well enough that only his undamaged shoulder took the brunt of the blow, but it hardly helped heal the sting of another failed attempt.
Byrios Amberten, as genteel as his dress might have been, had all the wiry strength of an athlete, and so formed an impassable barrier between Coin and where he wanted to go. “No,” he said simply.
For the third time, Coin tried to explain. “I just need to speak with him,” he said. “Please, it may be absolutely vital to t—”
“To the thing that isn’t my concern, yes. I know precisely what you’re up to, Brony, and I’ll tell you now that Ott isn’t getting involved with it. Are you an amnesiac, or do you recall what I told you the last time you tried to force your way to him?”
Coin collected himself, standing up straight and facing Amberten. “I think the words ‘piss off’ were used.”
“Hmm-mm. That little token of advice still stands.”
“Still, I must insist.”
Amberten gripped the door-handle and gave Coin a firm look. “So must I,” he said, and slammed the door behind him.
Left alone, Coin groaned and brooded on yet another failure. Ever since the meeting with Dabrius Joh, he had resolved himself to speaking with the cybramancer Heylen Ott, no matter what it took. As it happens, ‘whatever it took’ turned out to be a great deal more than he was expecting. The Grandmance of the Dreamweave was bizarrely difficult to track down, and whenever Coin managed to locate him, Ott was surrounded by other people. Even worse, those people always included Amberten, who seemed determined to keep Coin or any other Brony agent as far away as possible. For reasons on which Coin could only speculate, Byrios Amberten seemed to be serving as Ott’s constant shadow and chaperone, ensuring that Coin could barely get a glimpse of his companion, let alone a private word.
Dusting himself off, Coin sighed and started to plan his next move. Right now, the success of the Brony cause in the Dreamweave latched upon one of two things: either finding who the true killers were, or else proving that the culprit was not Dabrius Joh. The first was still out of reach, but if one could only contact the Changelings, he might have a chance to give Dabrius an alibi. And for now, Heylen Ott was the only lead on the Society that Coin had, the only person who could feasibly be connected to it and who might be willing to discuss it further.
Coin clenched a fist. There was no way around it: he had to get Ott alone, even for only a moment. It was just a matter of how.
Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his orange uniform, Coin began to meander back to the Brony’s wing as he considered the next move. There was no giving up at this point, that much was clear: with no alternative path, he could only keep trying Ott until some other option arose. He could continue to just try and push his way through, but Ott was constantly surrounded and guarded even when Coin could find where he was. He had tried cornering Ott alone in the cybramancer’s chambers at night, but found them locked, bolted, and with angry voices inside. He even considered breaking in through a window, but the room being high-up, still filled with potentially hostile people, and with no other points of entry but a narrow ledge made that seem like a very bad idea. Especially to someone who did not care for heights.
It would also hardly send the right first impression on these possible Changelings, which led to the problem in his next possible avenue: the brute-force method. Coin did not count himself as being a man of great imagination, but what he did have was a few dozen burly friends who could push their way past any gaggle of nobles, snatch Ott, and then remove him so that Coin might question the man in peace. And possibly hit Amberten across the nose in the process, Coin couldn’t help but hope. He could practically see the Honest Eyes glowing in approval of him adopting the ‘Warden’s way’ of negotiation.
It was tempting, but Coin couldn’t help but think that such a path would make many other things more difficult. Even if they found the Changelings, the Bronies couldn’t force them to testify—they would need to do it willingly. Somehow Coin doubted that they would be more inclined to do so after treating them roughly. He sighed again as he weighed whatever his remaining options were. I’d really hoped to exhaust every other route before smashing in, Coin thought wearily, but this is starting to drag thin. We’ve not a lot of time left. Frowning, Coin continued to walk as he considered the option more carefully. Perhaps there’s still some other way to get Ott alone, or at least open enough to speak with briefly. I would need help, though. I wonder who might be available t—
“Well, hullo there my orange friend! You seem positively adrift in thought! I wasn’t aware that your folk ever found themselves in such a position.”
Coin spun around to see a curious figure talking to him. He was a man not much older than Coin, slightly portly with odd, choppy hair haphazardly strewn with streaks of brown dye. His clothes were a bit torn up, and gave the impression that he had been sleeping in them recently.
“Oh,” Coin said, a little taken aback, “er, good afternoon.”
The man seemed to consider that greeting very carefully. “Odd. People keep telling me that a certain time of day is ‘good,’ but I’ve never considered temporal points capable of any moral standing. First it was ‘good morning,’ and now this. I did also get a sharp kick to the shins earlier today, which as greetings go is far less ambiguous.” He minced over Coin’s way with a slight swagger in his step, and eyed up and down at the Brony before giving a strange smile. “Unless, of course, you mean that this is an afternoon in which one intends to do good. If that be the case, I must say that I’ve never felt much inclination for such a thing. Now then,” he said with a clap of his hands, “your name is…?”
“Uh, Coin Counter?”
The stranger burst out laughing. “Devio’s hand, truly? Heavens, your name must have been atrocious if you thought changing to that was an improvement.” Coin blushed with embarrassment, but the man continued without heed. “Now, I have to ask: what kind of coin are you? Because I’ve no use for copper at all, but a piece of gold might do me a whole world of good, eh chappy? I’ve errands that need doing, you see, and a man needs Coin for all of them. What say you, then? Lend a hand to a little buddy-buddy?” The man held out his hand and rubbed his forefinger and thumb together meaningfully.
Coin blinked in confusion. “You’re… asking me to loan you money?”
He chortled. “Oh, not in so many words, dear Coin! But if you wish to loan yourself to me, I promise to spend you wisely, eh? I’m in need of a carousing partner, m’lad, and I’ve always been fond of carrying a full purse before I go out. Step lively, we’ll sing and dance and drink and howl the night away!”
“It’s three in the afternoon.”
“Details, details.”
A feeling of dread snaked up as Coin began to suspect who this person was. “You aren’t by any chance named ‘Withins-Bei,’ are you?”
He seemed positively delighted. “Well, I most certainly am! Finally, the reputation of this Withins-Bei precedes him! Usually it’s just the smell that gives it away.”
Coin had feared as much. Though they had not had the dubious pleasure of meeting until that day, Coin had heard his fair share of horror stories about the Brony’s erstwhile ally. This might be a very long afternoon. “I actually have work I need to be do—”
“Work?” Withins-Bei yawned. “Can’t say I’m familiar with the word. But what is it holding you back, pal-of-mine?”
“Heylen Ott,” Coin explained, hoping that it would force Withins-Bei to prowl elsewhere. “I was hoping to have a private word with him. So, if you’ll ex—”
“Ott?” Withins-Bei interrupted yet again. “That dalmatian-looking freak? You’ve odd taste indeed, gold piece. Well, what’s stopping you, then? He doesn’t bite.” He smirked odiously. “He practices blood magic, of course, but still he doesn’t bite.”
Coin swallowed sharply. He hadn’t needed the reminder of what Ott was—frankly, it was something he had been trying to forget. To fear cybramancy was a core tenet of Authority training, the kind that Coin had gone through and emerged from all the wiser. The curse was not to be trifled with, nor those who dealt in it. It made him wary, at that moment, as to how good of an idea it was to be alone in a room with such a man.
Coin quickly pushed such fears away. “Ott keeps strange company, and they don’t care to have me visiting him. It’s been impossible to get him alone.” He thought for a moment about cutting the conversation short and telling Withins-Bei no more… but then he had the first inklings of an idea. “You wouldn’t happen to know a way I could approach him, would you?”
Withins-Bei made a show of tapping his finger on his chin. “Perhaps I do. It certainly sounds like an amusing diversion. Very well, I’ll take the case! Where is that sanguineous sorcerer now?”
Coin pointed. “That room. There are plenty of other people in there, though.”
“The Eastern Ballroom,” Withins-Bei said. A lupine smile grew crept across his face. “There’s another entrance. Follow me, lad!”
Snatching an iron grip on Coin’s hand, the lordling pulled him along at a frenzied pace with which Coin could only try to hop along and keep up. Already, and not for the last time that day, he began to wonder if associating at all with Withins-Bei was a good idea.
They made their way quickly, Withins-Bei still insisting on pulling Coin along by the hand in a strange, feverish gallop. There were not many in that part of the Palace, but what few guards and courtiers there were gave a fair share of odd glances to the pair as they raced through. Coin tried to keep his embarrassment to a minimum, and began to demand that Withins-Bei let go, when suddenly they stopped. Coin nearly ran into the lordling’s back, and found that for whatever reason his travelling companion was now standing stone-still.
“What is it?” Coin asked.
Withins-Bei continued to stand still, peering ahead. Then he spun about in a circle, examining all things around him as a periscope would, before halting again and tapping at his chin. “Have you ever had the feeling that there are eyes on you, oh byt of mine?”
Before Coin could muster an answer, Withins-Bei pointed to a space behind him. “Because I wager that they have.”
Following the pointed finger, Coin looked out into a shaded hall and gave a startled jump after he saw precisely the last thing he was expecting. Looming there, half in shadows, were a pair of enormous eyes painted onto a pale, wooden mask pressed into face of a curious figure. They wore a ragged cloak that covered much of their body, giving no hint as to who they were or what they looked like. The mask was contorted and hideous in its appearance, giving the impression of a screaming mouth and eyes that wept black tears. It was locked in a stare directly at Coin.
Coin almost yelped when he saw the bizarre figure, and realized immediately who it must have been. An anonymite of the Chan. One of a trio, here in the Dreamweave of all places. Another figure he’d only heard about thus far, and one he had even less desire to meet than any drunken reprobate.
While Coin stammered in surprise, Withins-Bei laughed. “My my! What an honor it is, my mist-born lady, for us to cross paths again! Reconsidering my offer for good times? Come now: beastly I might be, but I am no Beast to be feared.”
The anonymite ignored him. Instead, the eyes of that mask continued to fix directly at only one person: Coin. A shudder went through the Brony as he considered what that might mean… but before he could ask what the Channic wanted, the anonymite darted away and vanished.
Coin blinked, still in a dread-born silence as he tried to make sense of the encounter.
“Huh,” exclaimed Withins-Bei. He then gave a shrug of his shoulders, grabbed at Coin’s hand again, and began to drag him along once more.
“Hold on,” Coin tried to say as he dug his heels into the floor. “Hol— stop tugging at me!” He smacked Withins-Bei’s hand away. “What in life’s light was that about?”
“What was what about?” Withins-Bei asked with feigned innocence.
“The anonymite. You knew who that was?”
He pretended to wonder for a moment who Coin was speaking of. Then, in a flash of mock realization, he asked “Oh, you mean Syll? Yes, I’ve been bothering her and the little posse she’s a part of for some time now. Interesting chaps and chapette. Rather brutish, of course, but with a certain… oh, I don’t know, horribleness about them that I find ever so appealing.”
“Why was she following us?” Coin demanded. It was as unnerving as anything he’d come across recently to know that a Channic was lurking about, keeping track of where he went.
“Well, I’m sure I don’t know. Perhaps she isn’t. Though,” he continued with a smirk, “I would think that she’s trying to seek me out. I’ve been intimating several intimate propositions her way, you see. I’ve never spent the night with a Channic woman before, so I thought I would try and—”
“—and do something I really don’t want to hear about,” Coin cut in, returning the favor of interruptions at last. He shivered: he’d been disturbed enough for one day as it was, without learning more about Withins-Bei’s unthinkable private life.
“Suit yourself. I’ll save any further tales or planned demonstrations for later. At any rate,” he spoke with a relieved sigh, “we’d best get back to the old grind. The work kind of old grind, that is, not the grind I plan to do wit—”
“Fine,” Coin interrupted again, desperate to stop him from talking, “let’s go.”
Only a little further, they came to a wall, built into which was a pair of large doors. Rounded windows were built at the top of said doors, and Withins-Bei indicated to Coin that he should look through. Wary that it was some kind of prank, Coin did so hesitantly, but found himself pleasantly surprised. What he saw inside was a spacious ballroom, albeit with its furniture stacked and folded away. A small crowd of people were within, either milling about, pacing, or sitting upon chairs that they had retrieved. Lips were moving, but Coin could not make out the words.
Altogether, Coin thought it a strange place for well-to-do citizens to be, but more important was whom those citizens were. Several Coin did not know, but those few that he did caught his eye straight away. Byrios Amberten, for one, scowling and speaking words that Coin could recognize as angry even from a distance. And the man whom he spoke to was Heylen Ott, bedecked in a long blue robe and listening patiently.
“They’re in there,” Coin whispered. “But Ott is surrounded. If I walked in, they just throw me out right away.”
Withins-Bei clasped Coin’s shoulder and shook him in a way that might have been meant to reassure. “Leave that one to me, my horse-loving friend. I’m well-accounted enough with distractions that I could serve as one easily. When I give the signal, you move in.”
At that moment, Withins-Bei peeled off and ran back the way they’d came. Alarmed, Coin tried to call after him without raising his voice too much. “Wait, what signal, wha—”
But the lordling was gone. Coin sighed, wondering again just how much trouble this quasi-operation was worth.
“He is quite annoying, no?”
Anonymites. When Coin turned to face the voice from the dark, it belong to a masked man who stood behind him. One of three, in fact. Outnumbered, Coin looked between them, a sense of fear sitting like a stone in his stomach. It was the full trio in front of him, he knew. One was the same anonymite from earlier, the one with the screaming mask that Withins-Bei had called ‘Syll.’ Another was the anonymite that just spoke, as far as Coin could tell: a middling figure, whose eyes were covered with a blacker-than-black film and surrounded by whirling, hypnotic spirals. Lurking behind them was one taller than each and as thick as both put together, bearing the face of a snarling monster. All three peered at Coin pitilessly.
Silence loomed between them, with Coin unable to form a response to their sudden appearance. The anonymite with the spiral eyes took it upon himself to carry forward. His pale mouth—the only visible patch of skin on his body—twisted into a half-smile. “Greetings,” he said.
“Salutations,” followed Syll in a voice like breaking glass.
The massive one in the back just added a quick grunt, like some man-ape. To Coin, the fangs on the anonymite’s mask actually looked sharp enough to cut.
“Interesting for us to be finding you here, of all places,” said the man with the spiral-eyes. “I am called Vaath, by foreigners like you. These two others are Syll and Boar.”
“Mask-names, all,” Syll cut in to say. “Do not think to control Syll with the true name that is not freely giv—”
“Not one cares what you say, Syll, so I hope to empty heaven that you shall blather no more,” Vaath said curtly. Ignoring some guttural hissing noises coming from Syll, Vaath kept the eyes of his mask on Coin. “You are the slave of the Brony woman, no? The fierce one with the violet hair and violet name?”
“I am no man’s slave,” Coin answered. “But Lady Violet is my friend and master, yes.”
Vaath scoffed. “Any man willing to surrender his name is a slave, no matter how pretty the chain may be. But I am not here for debate, Brony. You have been seen trading words with the white knights, have you not? With the slaver Halforth?”
Coin looked between the three, weighing his options carefully. Anonymites were well-known for their hatred of Moderators, and those who collaborated with them. He could only assume they were here to act on just such a hatred. Three on one, he thought grimly, and that one is injured and unarmed. He could recall the empty palm fighting techniques that men of the Authority were required to learn in their training, but Coin had never had much talent in them from the start, and doubted they would be much use to an injured man here. Running was the better choice, though not the braver one, and the doors to the Eastern Ballroom were open, so far as he knew. He began to edge towards the door handle, as he spoke.
“I act as liaison to the Moderators here,” he admitted, realizing that they already knew the answer. “But I’m not a part of any decisions they make, and not—”
“He tries to escape, Vaath,” grunted Syll, pointing with her chin towards the door. Coin stopped moving, and noticed that the shape of Syll’s hand moving under her cloak, brushing towards her belt.
“Yes, his movements are obvious,” snapped Vaath. “Cease your scampering, horse-lover: there will be no violence here, save what you bring yourself.”
Coin eyed the lot of them suspiciously. “What is this about, then?”
The smile returned to Vaath’s face. “You’ve a mouth close to Halforth’s ear, no? Not just him, but to the white knights also: raven, jester, corpse-woman, all. Their dog-trainer is departed now, I see, locked under arrest by his own brothers—and you had a hand in that as well? A fine work, if it was so. Mods themselves are the only ones that deserve to rot in their prisons. Regardless,” he said with another wave of his hand, “you will bring us to Halforth, Brony or Mod or whatever you are.”
“Another day, another wasted moment,” Syll grumbled. “Time and tide go to waste, Vaath, while you muck about with fools like this one, begging for permissions. What use is it? Look at him! He has the sign of horns about his head, and we’ve no use for a horned warbler on this. But the second plan, Vaath!” Syll tilted her head, and started to tremble with excitement. “The second pla—”
“Still yourself, insect,” Vaath snapped. “Horned he might be, but all the better to serve his better. I’ll have no ‘second plan’ when the risk is too high and another path still stays.”
Since the Channic had no issue with talking as though he were not in front of them, Coin elected to ignore their comments as well. “Sorry, but what exactly are you after? You want me to introduce you to Lord Halforth? Why?”
“Matters beyond your comprehension, horned-horse,” Syll said.
“Indeed, it is so,” added Vaath with a nod. “But your role needs no understanding. Simply make room for us to trade words with him. That is all.”
Coin regarded his words, curious. “And why are you bringing this to me, of all peopl—”
“Because,” Vaath cut in wearily, “you are not white-garbed enough to drive us away at first sight. And yet…” The anonymite paused a moment, and looked down to Coin’s chest. “... and yet you do not bear the Yellow Eye, either. That is a better omen than any that your we-slave Warden carries. Perhaps you will serve better.”
“The Honest Eye?” Coin asked, confused. “No, some friends of mine have it, but not me. What does that have to do with it?”
The black eyes of Vaath’s mask studied him silently. Then, he shrugged. “Perhaps nothing. Perhaps all. Tell me, horse-lo—”
Reaching the end of his patience, Coin stopped him. “My name is Coin Counter.”
In the back, the impudence of the response made Boar stir a bit, shifting his huge weight around to face Coin more closely. Vaath, however, merely barked out a laugh. “More backbone than I thought! And you use a freely-given name as well, not your true one—perhaps we shall make a masked-man of you yet.” The grin the anonymite gave was sour, filled with yellowed and crooked teeth. “But returning to important things. Now tell me, Coin Counter: have you ever seen ‘The Guise of the Yellow God’?”
Lost, Coin searched his mind, and thought the name sounded familiar. “It’s a Channic play, yes?”
“In a certain fashion. It is a Channic legend, well-known by my people. A tale of fratricide and damnation, and demon-gods beside. And of eyes, Coin Counter. Yellow eyes.”
Syll groaned. “This thread again? He is clueless to it all, Vaath, and we’ve greater things to mend and break on this island.”
Vaath ignored her, and continued in low tones. “There is a figure, in this tale. A man who would be Mootking, but for his own weakness. So a deal is struck, between him and an monstrous idol carved of wurmwood, painted with black and yellow from the creeping vines, whose master wears a pallid mask. Eternal life and dread powers, siphoned into a living host, one who then carries the mark of darkness in his mind. It is not a story that ends well.”
Coin heard a croak come from under Syll’s mask, but followed it with recited lines.
“Not for honor, but for shame,
a hand that bears a silver knife
will spill the blood of misspent life…”
“... then rise to bear the shadow’s name,” finished Boar in a low rumble.
For a reason Coin could not place, a chill went up his spine. “I… I don’t understand,” he admitted. For the first time, he actually wished that Withins-Bei would come back and interrupt all this. What is taking him so long?
“Then heed,” Vaath demanded. “Your master, this Warden of Honesty? Where did he come from? Whom does he serve? Does he display abilities you do not understand, hm? Does he See things that he should not?” The anonymite’s questions came in a torrent, and as he took another step closer, Coin received an unpleasant reminder that his back was to a wall and that he could retreat no further. “There was a moment, Coin Counter, when I felt an eye watching me, or else trying to do so. The masks we wear,” he gestured to himself and the other Channic, “are carved from wurmwood, painted with the creeper’s ink—totems that the Beast may see through, in its idols, but not within. And yet I am convinced there are things working here that I cannot glimpse. A man like your Warden does not simply appear from air. He was made, and I must know why.” The Channic’s voice carried with it a manic madness, a patter of words that Coin barely understood. “What is behind the patch he wears? Is his eye truly gone, or does it shine with a malice that men cannot witness?
There had been half-a-hundred questions, but Coin did not have an answer to any of them. And yet these inquiries the anonymite pressed upon him, hard as they were to grasp, carried with them such an ominous cast that Coin was made anxious just upon hearing them. Coin had the not-so-sudden desire to be somewhere else, and soon. Six save me, where are you, Withins-Bei? The man had told him to wait for a signal, but now Coin wondered if it would ever come, or if this was just some elaborate gag.
He realized that he needed to say something in response—the anonymites stared expectantly. “Ah… well, I— what I mean to say is that I don’t entirely know what t—”
“BWAH! Distraction!”
In unison, Coin and all three anonymites immediately turned their attention to the sound that had just echoed from out the double doors. Somehow, Coin already had a fairly good feeling as to what he would see inside.
Peering in through the windows, Coin could just barely see what was happening within. He could hear people shouting, and saw most of the men in the room on their feet and chasing after someone. It was Withins-Bei, dancing about and screaming at the top of his lungs. It was, by far, the worst distraction Coin had ever seen.
Well, he thought, that’s the signal. There was no telling that it would actually work, of course, but Heylen Ott did not seem to be part of the mob now hot on Withins-Bei’s tail. It might be that he was separate, at least enough that Coin could pull him away quickly. Worth a try, at least.
If it was possible to baffle a Channic, Coin imagined that it had happened to the lot of them when they saw Withins-Bei’s routine. Vaath shook his head incredulously. “As I said, very annoying.”
Coin chose that moment, while they still watched on in mute horror, to make his escape. “Excuse me, I just need to—” He grabbed the door handle, and darted inside.
The ballroom was wide and spacious, and filled with noise, all of it directed at Withins-Bei. There was half-a-dozen people chasing after him, with Withins-Bei doing his best to keep their attention and avoid being caught. Based on his current performance and dubious physical health, Coin guessed that Withins-Bei would not be able to keep it up for long—time was of the essence. The Channic had not followed him, for whatever reason, but now he had to set about the difficult task of finding Heylen Ott.
It was much simpler than Coin had anticipated, since Ott was waiting next to the doors Coin had come from.
Ignoring Coin’s startled double-take, Ott looked him over amiably, raising a black-and-white hand in greeting. “Why, Coin Counter of the Honest Friends! How strange to see you again, so soon. There are three anonymites of the Chan outside, are there not?”
Still taken aback, Coin stammered out, “Ah, yes? How did you—”
“Hmm, I would have thought they would have been the ones trying to speak w— well, nevermind. I suggest that we settle a time and place to meet in private, so we might speak. That is why you wished to find me, correct?”
“Yes, thank the Six I can finally get an answer,” Coin breathed with relief. “Please, anywhere and anytime, but we have to hurry, I thi—”
“You again!”
Coin could barely even stand to look, but he saw that the chase for Withins-Bei had ended, the lordling tackled to the ground by three people who were cursing and shouting. Now, though, all eyes were squarely on Coin and Ott.
It was an old man in fine clothes that had spotted Coin first, raising a shaking finger to him. “It’s that one again! Byrios, throw them both out! Quickly, before more come!”
Byrios Amberten ran over with fury in his eyes. “I hear you, Pendros.”
Before Coin could even think, both he and Withins-Bei were grabbed and being forced towards the door by Byrios and the others. Withins-Bei hooted and laughed, despite being in a chokehold, as merry as ever. “What now, then? Torture, is it? Ha! You’ll never break me, never I say—I torture myself every day regardless! I’ll never talk! And it was all Coin’s idea anyways!”
“Ah!” Coin heard one of the men holding Withins-Bei shout. “He bit me! Oh God, he’s licking my arm, get him off!”
Coin was trying to brace himself against walls and doorframes, dragging his boots and clawing with his hands to try and stay in another moment. But over the din and scuffle, he could hear Heylen Ott even as the cybramancer was being hurried away by the old nobleman. “I apologize that our meeting is cut short again, my friend, but as you can see I’m quite busy! Busy now ‘til midnight, a graveyard shift as some might say! But perhaps I’ll see you again!” He could say no more, before both be and Coin were pulled from each other’s view.
And without a moment more, Coin was thrown from the room, Withins-Bei following shortly after. Landing on his face, Coin had only a dazed moment to look back, only for the door to close with a slam behind them. He could hear a rush of feet in the other room—they were all running away as fast as they could. The opportunity was lost.
Coin could have popped a blood vessel from frustration. Moaning, he beat the back of his head against the wooden floor, all too conscious of yet another, now more elaborate failure.
Withins-Bei, at least, did not seem at all disappointed. He stood up with a wild grin. “God, but that one tasted awful. I’ll have to make sure I mark that accordingly in my delicacy diary. I suppose you learn something new everyday.” Panting and sweating, he looked as though he had run a marathon. “I swear to you, currency, the human body was not meant for that much exertion in so little time. I shan’t move for a week, after that. So, what are the judge’s score on my distraction, hmm?”
Coin clamped his eyes shut and just hoped that Withins-Bei would go away. “It was an awful distraction,” he murmured.
Withins-Bei scoffed. “Shows what you know. In mine own circles, that would have crowned any list of the year’s finest distractions. I make into an art, I tell you. Besides, it worked, did it not?”
“No, it didn’t,” Coin struggled to say through his frustration. “What took you so long, anyways? I was cornered by those anonymites.”
At that moment, Withins-Bei decided to lean directly over Coin, his preening face taking up the center of Coin’s vision. It was a disturbing thing to have looming over him. “What took me so long,” Withins-Bei said, the very model of smug satisfaction, “was that they were not in the room.”
Coin blinked. “What are you talking about? Of course they were.”
“Were not, and I’ll stake my life on it. When I left you by the door, I sped about to the other entrance right away. Only, when I arrived, Heylen Ott nor anyone else was to be seen. The room was bare. Not a soul within.”
Coin gaped at him. “But they were in there just—”
“Yes, that was the strange thing,” Withins-Bei said, seeming to chew on the puzzle. “When I saw no one was inside, I left the room, dawdled for a little while, drank a bit from my special flask. But then I came back, and there they were! All in that ballroom! I thought I was just seeing things again—special flask, and all—but that all seemed quite real to me. And would I lie?” Before he let Coin answer, he reconsidered the question. “Scratch that. Would I lie if I had nothing to gain, and it wasn’t that funny?”
Picking himself off the ground, Coin approached the door. He pressed his ear against it and heard nothing: he felt reasonably certain that anyone who was in there had evacuated out of the other entrance by now. Pushing the door open, he carefully went inside.
It was an elaborate hall, one that Coin could now truly take in, since he was no longer being chased around. Curving chandeliers, fanciful wallpaper, hangings upon the wall. There was a hearth with stones that bore a tiger’s snarling face, and tiles with faded filigree. A fine place, and filled with any number of small artistic touches left behind by its builders.
Including, perhaps, another hidden entrance.
“Quite the mystery, penny,” said Withins-Bei as he sauntered inside. “But before I take off, I have to know: what did you mean, when you said the plan didn’t work?”
Coin turned. “Heylen Ott. There wasn’t enough time to speak, and he never got to tell me when we could talk again.”
Withins-Bei smirked. “You are an honest friend after all. You must never forget that there’s a realm of subtext beneath any word. And what words did Heylen Ott shout to you, as you departed?”
Those last parting words raced back to Coin’s mind. ‘Busy now ‘til midnight. A graveyard shift.’ It can’t be…
“So,” Withins-Bei intoned from behind him, in the voice one would use to lecture a child, “perhaps today was fruitful for the both of us. I got to learn which of my colleagues I cannot outrun and would rather not eat, and you may have just gotten your meeting. Assuming that I’m not misjudging every word Ott said, of course.” Withins-Bei turned to leave, but stopped at the door. “It is passing strange, though. Groups of people vanishing into thin air. And now, it seems that you Bronies have taken an odd-as-all interest in an unlikely character indeed. What possible reason could there be for all that, hmm? One might have thought there was some kind of, oh what’s the word? Secret society at play?” The smile he gave to Coin was very knowing. “Perhaps I’ll find out soon. Perhaps until then, you should be happy that I’m on your side.”
And with that, Withins-Bei left. At last.
Coin checked quickly with the watch he had on hand. If his theory was right, he had hours yet until… well, until whatever came of this evening. Plenty of time to report to Lady Violet about what he had found. Plenty to search the room, to see what he might find. He started moving his hands carefully over the hearth.
It was hours before Coin gave up on his initial search. He had combed every inch of the ballroom, down to the floors on his hands and knees, but found no sign of any door or switch the Society might have used. There was no hidden latch within the hearth, no button in the tiles, no lever to be pulled in the candelabras, and Coin soon began to find his imagination wearing thin. He knew that there was something there, but after six hours he began to despair of ever finding it.
His meeting with Lady Violet proved more fruitful. He told as complete an account of the day as he could manage, with the comments of the anonymites catching her attention most fully. Vaath’s words sounded twice as strange when Coin repeated them in his own voice, but the lady did not laugh or smile upon hearing them, regarding all of it with calm consideration. Coin was not sure what exactly to make of all of it, but she appeared more confident in what to do.
As for Ott, the lady agreed more readily than Coin had expected to him going alone, but she did advise caution, whether he was truly a Changeling or not. “And whatever you learn,” she had said again, “you will bring it first to me. Breathe not a word of it elsewhere.”
Hours crept by, and Coin couldn’t help but feel night coming more slowly than usual. It was a half-hour before midnight when he set out, towards a destination that he had sought out previously, hoping it was the right one. He avoided guards as deftly as he could, dodging patrolmen and wearing nondescript enough clothes as to not attract undue attention. Eventually, he reached it.
On the side of Aureliano’s Palace, still far within the gates but down the hill enough as to not be touching the manse’s walls, there was a small plateau—a level catch in the hillside, large enough to build upon. And build they had, those ancestors of Aureliano: a small and gentle field, with water trickling down into a miniature pond, surrounded by a copse of hanging trees and a garden of yellow sand, pale as moondust. And all around, the headstones. For it was on this spot that a graveyard was made, for the sons and daughters of Martes, and of the ones that they favored.
Descending a narrow staircase, Coin found himself in that quiet place, under the light of the high and gibbous moon that hung off-kilter in the sky. He walked between the graves gently, not wishing at all to show disrespect to men that had died long before he had been born, and prayed that he had found the right spot for the meeting. Or, indeed, that there was a meeting at all. Finding a tree whose branches just barely touched the pond’s surface, he knelt down beneath it, and awaited whatever enlightenment he was bound to gain that night.
“It is a quiet place, is it not?”
At the corner of Coin’s vision, a man approached. A dark robe covered him, but Coin could see well-enough who was beneath the cowl. His dark skin might have almost faded into the shadows of his hood, but the pale blotches on his face and hands seemed to drink the light of the moon. Heylen Ott.
The Grandmance entered the graveyard not down the stairs, but rather up from the bottom of the hill on which it sat. He walked over slowly, seeming stiff as he traced his hands gently over the tops of the headstones he passed. His eyes were not on Coin—it was the names on the graves that held his attention.
“You will not find Aureliano here,” Ott said quietly. “Aureliano the First, I mean. The Dreamweaver himself, nor his son. That was a tradition begun in the earliest days of this city: the lord of this island is to buried beneath the Palace from which he ruled, like the wards around a tomb-city.” A small, sad smile fluttered on his face when he said the words, and knelt down towards one grave in particular. “But their wives, their brothers and sisters? They would be buried in this spot, behind the gates. Sometimes, very rarely, a servant would be granted that same honor, back when there was still honor to give in this place.” He traced his hand lightly over the face of the gravestone, a touch as caring and soft as a lover’s whisper. “I had always dreamed of earning that right, when I was young.”
There was a pregnant silence, before Coin realized that he should speak next. “Thank you for coming, my lord.”
Ott picked himself up. “It is my pleasure, Sir Coin. Truthfully, it was my hope that we might have had a chance like this some time ago, but various… factors got in the way. As I am certain you noticed today.”
Hard to miss it, Coin thought. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you get away? Those others seemed to have you under lock and key.”
“It took some difficulty,” he said with a mischievous smile. “I’m afraid that I’ve been under guard for some time. Apparently,” he gave Coin a look, “some Brony found a note in his pocket, and certain people assumed I had given it. They will rarely let me leave their sight, but at least they do not watch me sleep. And as it happens, my windows were open. I still have a little of my boyhood talent for climbing, it seems.”
Coin smiled, despite himself. “You are a very hard man to talk to, my lord.” He thought about what he had said for half a moment. “Er, meaning that it’s hard to get ahold of you, not that—”
Ott brushed the concern away with a hand. “Don’t fear, Sir Coin. I’m afraid I have been rather distant, though not due to any choice of mine.” He sighed. “I hope you will forgive dear Byrios. He has been sick with worry, of late, and he does not process such anxieties well. If you knew him in better times, you might find him to be warm. But with Arcadio on the mind…” Ott frowned. “Arcadio. There is another I should apologize for.”
“Arcadio?” Coin regarded the cybramancer carefully. “You’ve no need to apologize for what he’s done.”
“Perhaps not, but then I have always felt some measure of responsibility for the royal family—even for their failings. I grew up with Arcadio and Aureliano both, you see, in the days when my own father served as Grandmance to Aureliano the Second. Happier times, for the city and myself, perhaps for those living Martes as well.” He gave an inscrutable look up at the Palace of Aureliano, looming overhead. “I remember, the Lord of the Dreamweave in those days would spend much of his time with his firstborn, to shape him into a man. The only time Arcadio got attention was when he misbehaved, and was reprimanded by hand. It is a habit he has clung to even now, I’m afraid. Arcadio was difficult before he went abroad, to see all of the more primal fringes of the Web, but he has been something else entirely after he came back. The Deep has known him, but who knows the Deep? And now that he has returned…” As his voice trailed off, Ott shook his head. “It is no matter. You did not come for courtly gossip, I expect—there is much to discuss.”
“The Society.” Coin nodded his head, eager for answers. “My lord, I believe that with the testimony you can offer, we might be able to—”
Ott raised a hand to quiet him. “A moment, Sir Coin, if you will allow me that much more. Before I can speak about such things, there are a few matters I must make clear.” Finding a patch of bone-white sand, the cybramancer sat cross-legged on the ground and peered over at Coin. “You have heard no end of things about this Changeling Society, I imagine. Unkind words, likely: outcasts and criminals, if not assassins. Hiding in walls, under floorboards, in plain sight. But why do you suppose a group of people would even choose to scurry about in the shadows like that?”
“The ban,” Coin answered. “Men sworn to the Six would need to stay hidden, for fear of the Martes. That’s the point, isn’t it? To lift the ban?”
“In part. But think more broadly. Could there not be a larger reason as well?” He gestured a hand to the lights of the Dreamweave that glowed beneath them. “This city, Sir Coin. I love it, and so do many others.” Something about that seemed to amuse him. “Perhaps you think that passing strange.”
Coin wanted to deny it, but hesitated. Frankly, he did find it strange. He had not been in the Dreamweave long, but every other thought Coin seemed to have was concerned with getting out of it, as soon as possible. It was not a place that appeared worthy of much love.
When no answer came, Ott chuckled. “Ah, you are an honest friend after all. I can sympathize with your view, sir. But how often do we truly choose whom we love? I was born in this city. I expect I will die here as well. I have never known another home in all my days, and I’ve all the fond memories one would expect, curled up around the foundations of this place. Call it nostalgia, perhaps, but the Dreamweave was beautiful once. Aureliano the First intended it to be a city of mirrors that reflected all earthly glory, all the ambition and drive that he possessed and that had possessed him to create a nation from his own hand. I was always intoxicated by history like that, Sir Coin, ever since my father first told it to me. It is the dream we were meant to inherit, and the one that we lost. But it can be regained, sir, and I would gladly be called a criminal or a traitor if it meant a chance to do just that.”
Coin considered his words. “Then the Society for more than just lifting the ban. You want to save the Dreamweave.”
“The Society might mean many things to many people. But to see my home rebuilt… that would be a wonderful thing, Sir Coin. But how can it be done,” he continued, his face darkening somewhat, “when we have such leaders as these… these lesser heirs of Martes? Aureliano, Pilara, Arcadio: fate could not have pressed upon us a trio so capricious and petulant. I have known those brothers since we were all boys, so don’t think I cannot bear some love for them. But they know nothing of history. Aureliano may try as hard as he might, and Arcadio can rage and scream as though it will save him, but ultimately they will doom us all. This Society you search for seeks an alternative… by way of a six-pointed-star.”
Coin saw the wisdom of that immediately. Opening the Dreamweave was one thing, but the fandom possessed resources that the Dreamweave might benefit from endlessly. Money, trade, political support, all could be given. But only to a regime that is willing to accept it, he realized. The Society wants—needs—reform. Somehow, they must press the Martes into accepting it. Small wonder they needed to have deep roots in the powerful circles of the city: otherwise, there was no hope of cajoling the Martes into backing down.
“We can help you,” Coin began. “If the Dreamweave can be opened, the Collective can pour in, and lend you the aid you need. All we need is for you to help us first—Dabrius Joh, he’ll die if the Society doesn’t step in.”
“And there lies the problem. If this Society exists, they likely have resolved to see Dabrius die.”
Coin gaped at him. “There must be something we ca—” He stopped in a moment, realizing something that had passed him by. “The Society. Why are you talking about it as a hypothetical? You know it exists.”
A sad look crossed Ott’s eyes. “Because of this.”
He lifted his sleeve, revealing beneath it a familiar shape. Rings and half-circles, held in a mute and static orbit around an arrow-like shape of crossing lines and jutting angles, and all of it stamped in ink. Around it was a wreath of tattooed flames, arching and spitting flame, a mark so expertly done as to seem hot and alive. A cybramancer’s registration tattoo.
“You know this mark,” Ott said as he flexed his fingers. The flames appeared to dance on his wrist as he moved his muscles.
“I do,” Coin said, eyeing it nervously. He had been taught wariness around cybramancy his entire life—that it was a dread power, a curse upon the unfortunate, a danger that had to be curbed by any means necessary. That was the Moderator’s way, and one he had once known best. Before, Coin had been sure that Ott meant him no harm… but after a look at that arm, a reminder of who he was speaking to and what such a man could do, he no longer felt so certain.
“Then you know the possibilities of it. Terrible and great, both. Cybramancy is set in the blood, and it feeds on life. Among my ancestors, it was thought to be a means of liberation: the greatest freedom a man can ever hold. Freedom from the laws of king and clan is one thing, but to break away from the laws of Creation itself?” Ott frowned at the thought. “They were right, in a way. But the gift binds us as well. Chains us, even to our blood.”
Coin swallowed. “What does this have to do with the Society?” They couldn’t be tied to cybramancers could they? Unregistered cybramancers? The thought alone twisted his stomach.
“There is an oath, known to some. If you should ever wish to keep a secret, it is the one desperate men use. It is sworn not on one’s life, nor grave, nor honor, but on blood, and an oath sworn on blood like mine has power to it. Older power than you can grasp.” He opened his hand, allowing Coin to see what was inside. The cybramancer held nothing, but across his palm were the scars. Crossing, straight scars, the lines of knives carved white across his flesh, dozens and dozens. One was more recent that the others—a faint touch of color remained in its fringes. A red color.
Heylen Ott gave a pleading look. “You see, Sir Coin? A knife across the skin: that summons my power, and a silver knife will do it best. Imagine for me this: a group of men, hunted and afraid. They could swear an oath of secrecy: that they would never, to any outsider, reveal who they were. Suppose, perhaps, one man thought it right to intervene, to speak out, so as to rescue another. Well, they would be doubly sure that he swore such an oath. And if that man were like me,” Ott continued, gaze darting back down to the tattoo, “then they would hand him a silver knife, and know he was bound to that oath by his life-blood.”
Coin pieced it together quickly. “This oath you swore, what would happen if you broke it? If you testified for Dabrius, or you told me where the rest of the Changelings were?”
Ott offered a strange half-smile. “It would be deeply unpleasant to watch.”
Coin did not even want to think of what that meant. “But you are talking about it,” he pointed out. “We’re speaking of the Society now.”
The cybramancer chuckled. “Well, an oath sworn by a cybramancer on his blood cannot be broken without… grave consequences, let’s say. But it can still be circumvented. Imagine if a boy were promised to not tell his brother where a gift was hidden. He could not say outright, of course, where it was. But to imply, to speak subjunctives, to weave and prevaricate…” He smiled. “That might work.”
Coin nodded, but his mind worked to something else. “Is that safe?” he asked warily. “You aren’t at risk of…” Hurting yourself? Dying hideously? He could blow up like a powderkeg for all I know.
“There is some chance it could go wrong.” Ott frowned and rubbed his palm, soothing the spot of his scars. “When I begin to speak too clearly, I feel a pain. If I should come too close to revealing exactly what to do or where to go, it will become unsightly indeed. If I should have those forbidden words on the tip of my tongue, then you will believe that a man’s blood can boil and split his skin from the inside out.” Ott caught Coin’s aghast expression, and raised his hands to placate him. “As I said, unpleasant to watch.”
Coin’s head was still spinning a bit. Six save us. He had known that Ott was risking a great deal in talking to him, but this was beyond the pale. “When you asked me about the truth,” he began to say, “back when we ran into each other, I mean. That wasn’t some theoretical argument. You’ve promised to not breathe of it, and if you don’t keep your word…” He swallowed again, and found his throat dry. “What can be done, then?”
“Whatever I can do,” Ott answered simply. “But first, I have another question for you, Sir Coin. How many lives is Dabrius Joh worth?”
The question caught Coin off-guard. “How do you mean?”
“I mean that, if you succeed in your goal, you will be asking men to put their homes, their fortunes, their very lives on the line to save Dabrius Joh. The life of your friend, yes. But if they act to set him free, it might cost them everything. Are you prepared to ask that?”
The question laid heavy on the air, with Coin grasping at an answer. He wanted to save Dabrius Joh, to save a man from execution for a crime he did not commit. But to ask others, perhaps many others, to risk everything they had to do it… that made things harder. Is this another test? Ott had certainly done it before. “You would not have come here if you didn’t think it was right.”
“True,” Ott admitted. “But I am not the man you’ll need to convince, I’m afraid.” He looked at Coin pointedly, asking with his eyes for a better answer.
Coin grappled with the dilemma more, trying to weigh the costs in his mind. In truth, there was far more than Dabrius Joh alone at stake. If he was found guilty, it wouldn’t necessarily mean that the rest of the Bronies would face a true punishment themselves. But as far as the Web and the Authority would be concerned, it was still a Brony diplomat who cowardly cut down a knight and a boy in cold blood, a breach of every law of decent men. There would be consequences far beyond one man dying… but that was true for the Changelings as well. Them being exposed would ruin lives, uproot families, destroy fortunes. If the Martes followed through on their threats. If Arcadio was there to do it. If. Then, a thought came to mind. The finances, the evidence from the riots, the work with Lady Kohburn, all of it. There might be a way.
“What if we could bring down Arcadio?” Coin asked. “He’s the one who would kill any ally of the Collective in the city. What if we could expose him?”
Ott seemed a touch surprised by the suggestion. “That would solve a great many problems,” he admitted. “But many have tried before, and none succeeded. What makes this time different?”
Coin smiled. “He’s never had to deal with this fandom.”
Ott returned the grin. “Not so far as he knows. I can see gears turning in your mind, Sir Coin: a plan not finished, but at least in the making. Perhaps that will be enough.” He looked out across the city, and gripped his wrist with his hand absently. “I cannot leave you with much, not all at once, not with this accursed blood of mine. But you recall earlier today, in the ballroom? That scene with Withins-Bei was an… interesting choice, by the way.”
Coin rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “It wasn’t such a good plan, looking back.”
“Ah, but it worked, did it not? And in the end, that is the only measure of whether any act is good or not. I imagine you’ve been wondering for much of today how it was that a person could be in a room one moment, disappear the next, then come back just as soon.” He stiffened a bit, and his expression looked pained. “High-Hill Way. There are ruined buildings there, abandoned. If one were to search there, after noon has passed, one might just find something importan—” Suddenly, the cybramancer stumbled a bit, gripping the side of a tombstone for balance.
Coin rushed over, helping to steady Ott by putting a hand on his arm. “Are you alr—” Coin shot his arm back. His hand had been on the Ott’s skin for only a second, but it had been hot. Not a usual warm, but the kind of prickling heat one would feel if a man had a ferocious fever and then some more degrees laid on after. Coin wiped his hand on his coat, deciding it might be best if he not touch the cybramancer again.
Ott had recovered himself well enough. “I am fine, sir. You needn’t worry too much on my account.” He tried to give a reassuring smile, but it came across as weary and pained instead. “A bit of rest tonight, and I shall be fine. Though I should make my way back now, before anyone catches wind of my absence.”
“Thank you, my lord, for what you’ve done,” Coin said again. It was not as perfect a lead as Coin had initially hoped, but given the circumstances it was enough to start.
“Do not thank me just yet. The task is not yet done—only success can justify what we do, Sir Coin. Remember that.” Ott gave a bow, and began to walk away. “We shall speak again, in time. This place is as good a spot to meet as any, but only if I can continue to slip away: it might grow harder soon enough. But before I leave, one more thing. When we spoke, all that time ago, I asked you if the truth served better than a lie. And even if the cost was grave, even if the world pushed otherwise, you said it would. Do you still hold with that?”
“I do,” Coin answered. It was all that an Honest Friend could say.
“Then hold that belief close. There are some truths you might not want to hear.” And before Coin could ask more, Heylen Ott vanished into the long shadows of the Palace, and was nowhere to be seen.
The encounter had left Coin conflicted. On the one hand, a new lead to follow. But on the other… Those last words, Coin ruminated. Truths that I won’t want to know. What was that meant to mean? A few worst-case scenarios played out in Coin’s mind, and left him praying that none were true. Hope and dread intermingled closely, though another feeling was enough to drown out both.
Tired. It had been a long day, filled with ludicrous fops, Channic lunatics, secret societies, and blood-sorcerers, and now at the end of it Coin felt dreadfully tired. But the work was not yet done. There was still a person to speak to.
He found Lady Violet in her room, after having made clear to the guards just how urgent his news was. Soon enough, she opened the door, dressed in a nightgown that was only just barely proper for private conversation, but very much awake. The lady was a late sleeper, by all accounts.
“Coin Counter!” Lady Violet said, pretending to be surprised. “How nice of you to drop by. Oh please, come in, come in, I have such things to tell you.” It was only after she shut the door that she turned to him with a hopeful look. “Any luck? I swear, someone around here has to have some.”
Coin told the full story. The details about Ott’s cybramancy and the oath he made upon it did not seem to surprise her as much as Coin had expected, but he realized that Lady Violet would have had some familiarity with subject after all, considering who else served as a Warden of the Brony Collective. All of it she took in with calm consideration, while Coin just struggled to not look at her and the nightgown in an unseemly way.
At the end of it, Lady Violet moved an errant purple hair from her forehead and regarded Coin seriously. “A new lead, then. One step closer to the end of the puzzle, I should think. We will need a small team, entirely discreet, to investigate this. I believe that you and I shall be among them.”
“You, my lady?” Coin asked in surprised. “Is that safe?” The lady’s last investigation of the Changeling tunnels had not gone according to plan.
“High-Hill is only a short walk from the Palace, and in a decent neighborhood as well. Safety shouldn’t be an issue, though secrecy might be. I’ll find a way around that soon enough.”
“I’m certain someone else could go in your stead, my lady,” Coin said. “I can deliver the report to you in full, just like I have been.”
Lady Violet gave him a reassuring look. “I know you could. But truthfully, I want—no, need—to be with you if any contact should first be made with these other Changelings. I believe that they will need some convincing to help us, and I am the only person here who can make promises that are guaranteed to be kept.” She reached out and touched his arm. “You understand, of course?” She gave him the most beautiful smile.
Coin merely nodded, hoping that there wasn’t any color going to his face. Having gotten her answer, Lady Violet stood up. “We will need to be careful of some things, though, as we go forward. Of Arcadio, the anoymites, and the Mods, certainly. But of these Changelings as well, both the ones we do not yet know, and those already known to us.”
“The Changelings?” Coin repeated, surprised again. “Why should we fear them?” Secretive as they might be, they were still at least partly men of the fandom, brothers and sisters in Six.
“We’ve had our warnings, Sir Coin. Hard news from the Citadel. I do not believe that it is the case, not truly, but if there are really Oathbreakers among the Changelings, it will be unpleasant. And even if there are not, who knows what they might do?” Lady Violet offered him a grave look. “People lash out when cornered, when threatened. We need only be on our guard.”
“Ott, at least, seems trustworthy,” said Coin. It sounded odd, to say that about a cybramancer.
Lady Violet seemed to consider that carefully. “Perhaps,” she said. “A success won through trust would be a fine thing, Sir Coin. I would certainly prefer it. But be on your guard nevertheless. A victory won without trust is only half as good, but I will take it all the same.”
* * * * * *
Lady Wright:
“Tactics and strategy. That’s the main crux of the issue, right there. You know, a lot of people make the mistake of conflatin’ the two, but you have to remember there’s a key difference ‘tween tactics and strategy. That was where I made my mistake, in the Chan.”
Lorelove:
“Are you referring to the loss of Baysm—”
Lady Wright:
“You see, the difference is that tactics are what wins a battle. That’s the logistics of getting troops hither and thither, of finding the right ground, of maneuvering the people you’ve got in the right way so that its the enemy running away at the end, and not you. That’s tactics. But strategy is what wins a war, and that’s a whole different dimension. If you only ever see the battle, if you ignore the… the calculations of how to actually win once and for all, then there’s no use in even showin’ up to the battles, see? Might as well just pack it in from the start, because if you only know tactics and don’t know [expletive redacted] about strategy, you’re not getting much further than the front door.
“That was my problem. I’d won Baysmouth, taken the Slouchhall, taken the Chan. I was whoopin’ it up around the Wurmwood Throne, drinking cheap wine out of gold goblets the Mootking had left behind, and listening to my new friends cheer. But I’d taken all that with tricks, not force. Now ten thousand pissed off Channic and their new Moderator friends were heading my way—this slap-fight with the anonymites had just jumped to war, and the army I had found myself commandin’ just made itself the biggest target in the Saying Sea. All thanks to me.”
Lorelove:
“My lady, it would be wrong to blame yourself wholly for wh—”
Lady Wright:
“It’d be wrong to throw off responsibility, Lorelove. That would be wrong. And it was my fault.”
Lorelove:
“The enemy numbers were such that no force you could have feasibly assembled could defend Baysmouth. And if you had not taken it, it is entirely possible that the fandom would have never formed.”
Lady Wright:
“It’s also possible that a lot of good people might still be alive. You know the amount of resources needed to feed even a small army for just a day? You know how difficult it is to get that, when you’re in a hostile territory, and when there’s an enemy advancin’ through the countryside? You know how impossible it is to placate a city full of people that hate you and want to open the gates to that a-fore-mentioned enemy? You know how stupid it is to not consider that completely before you take the [expletive redacted] city? Well, you may not have, and neither did I, but you weren’t the one who been using the goddamn army for an ego trip.”
Lorelove:
“That’s too harsh on yourself, my lady.”
Lady Wright:
“Hmm. I doubt it. Sure, I had thought about a lot of those problems before I marched on Baysmouth. I might have thought about them long and hard, and made a lot of reassurin’ noises to my officers when they questioned it. Maybe I just weighed the options and thought the bold path was the smart one. But even if that were true, I was thinking that takin’ Baysmouth would be enough to end the war. I didn’t think of the Moderators gettin’ involved. I never considered how long I might need to hold onto that pit of a city. I was fixated on the battle, but not the things surrounding it. Tactics and strategy—I rest my case.
“You know, at that point, I still didn’t have a lot of experience in the ol’ warmongering. I was new to leading people, let alone leading armies, and until that moment my instincts were enough to guide me. Baysmouth was a hard lesson to learn, but it was one I needed—whatever natural talent you may or may not have, it doesn’t substitute for long. Luck was runnin’ out. The walls were closin’ in. We had to get out of that city.”
Lorelove:
“The retreat to Comchan, my lady?”
Lady Wright:
“Yes, all of it. The ships, the battle, the Blue Martyrs, all of it. What we lost, I… it stays with me. It was a mistake I had to make, and I regret it every day. But it wasn’t one I made twice.”
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I hate to disagree with Coin, but Withins-Bei does the best distractions.
I'm starting to think he's this world's counterpart to Discord.
Ott's darn good at that doubletalk, necessarily so.
YAY Great timing on this one! So, they made sure Halforth despises the Martes even more then ever and wants to see them pay... but it has the downside of making him paranoid about trusting anyone and ready to snap at anyone over any small issue. Bronies are not getting the damn hint that letting Honesty deal with Halforth would be the best bet. (Just be sure he knows to not say ANYTHING about the whole strangling a mod thing.) So bit of a double edged sword. Though Alwin is now on their side at least, so small favors. Plus Proxy got out of his dilemma so that's good. Maybe a bit to easily, but it works. Now.. things are looking up still, they are gaining ground, but it's not being to easy for them, so still a nice balance there. Progress enough to see that this could work out and to not get bogged down in how pointlessly hopeless it seems. But taking enough effort that they are earning this and it still might not work out. So with that onto......
Thorax? Really? Time to find a friendly Changeling then?
And another interesting excerpt from their texts that fits well and explains a lot. Showing why they are so Lawfull, so rigid, dedicated to Order. While also being clear they are taking it to far, and not seeing it. The whole hatred of 'change' of thinking that everything is perfect as is as that was how 'The Logos" made it. You get the religious tones to it How this is much the same for them. Why things that seem outside the norm are evil and wrong. Again a great look that explores why things are as they are and explains a lot about this world and the Authority's viewpoint. Very nice.
Also this focus on 'mancers combined with past hints and the title.... time for Coin to have a talk with a certain Cybramancer? OHHHH Did he see the future and forsee 'Thorax" so took that name? Or, the name just symbolic to the chapter title?
So, trying to go talk to what's his name? Quite insistently it seems.
Guess both mental and physical, getting shoved like that cannot be good for an injured shoulder.
1. Typo "know/now"
2. So, this guy know what Ott is into and trying to protect him/keep him from getting in deeper, or just trying to control the guy and has no clue the reality? Could go either way.
He does, but he's also a follower of Applejack... you are not going to out stubborn one of them.
Maybe this is just that little opening bit about words having meaning bringing out my semantical side but, he is following that advice. It does seem like he is pissing you off. Maybe you should have chosen your words better.
okay this line is just.. very awkwardly worded. Outside door what?
Yeah very odd... intrigued to find out why. Again, most likely either knows about the Changeling thing and is trying to protect Ott from being found out or suspected as being one. Wants Ott to not be involved and trying to keep him as far from it as possible. Or simply dislikes Bronies and wants to keep them away/control Ott for personal reasons. Feeling like one of the two first ones is most likely.
And that second is looking to be the far more likely.
Maybe think less "What would Applejack do" and more "What would Rainbow Dash do"?
Again, that dude does not get just how damn STUBBORN Honesty followers can be.
Well now... didn't consider listening at the door to get some idea what was going on? And if you know where those are... try a window?
Eh, true, but desperate times and all that.
Okay gotta admit, that IS a very RD plan. Let's call hat plan F. As in, We are totally fucked anyway so nothing left to lose.
Sadly true.
1. This place have bathrooms? Or still going with chamber pot technology?
2. You know.. haven't heard from Withins-Bei in a while have we? Just saying......
TIMING! So, he just stumble across the person he needs while wondering about it? Talk about a coincidence....... OR IS IT!!! Also.. hmmm whoever could this be?
Heh. I like him.
I really like him.
Heh, alright, what's this guys game? Also I don't think that is exactly what he means.
And yeah this type of personality.. this is who I think it is isn't it?
Definitely something being set up.. he knows who Coin is and is trying to get something out of him... maybe simply get him alone.. or feel him out before taking him to meet the changelings?
Speak of the devil. Coin, just go with him, he's up to something and knows far more then you all think.
Horror stories?
And he'll know how to do so.
So is a lot of other stuff that's rather BS.
Oh this will be good.
Yes, now pull the stick out of your ass and have some fun.
Seriously, need some Loyal or Laughing friends around, they'd get how to enjoy hanging with this guy.
They know about periscopes?
Something you are certainly used to, but guessing you don't mean in quite that way.
Also 'byt'? Play on bit/byte term?
Hi asshole! Also, yup Bei's really is far more astute then they take him for.
Oh that has to be epic to see. Trolling the Channic, always fun.
Prude.
Have I mentioned how much I love this guy? Just, watching Coin try to deal with him is hilarious. Seriously dude, relax a bit.
"Normally I'm the most distracting thing I know."
Nope, I freaking love him, it's amazing watching these people get so bent out of shape by him. Taking parts he says to seriously, and others not seriously enough, in just the right way to be how he wants rather then see through this all.
These guys on the other hand.... we get it, you can stop screeching.
Thank you. Also other typo!
Give it up you three, Halforth is not going to give a fuck what you say ever, and right now is REALLY not going to be a good time.
Really not getting the hint... but that's just them being them. Still, be interesting to see Halforth trying to deal with these three right now.
So, fall into a backup plan here. Given she seems eager for it.. this can't be a good thing.
So something highly showy, stupid, little chance of working, and likely doomed to screw you over even more then you are? Sounds like their type of plan. Coin, do be sure to warn the Wardens of this bit. Or even the mods too? That these three are up to something.
we-slave? Also.. yup they can tell something is up with him as has been hinted.
Much like the rest, there is something more to what they are saying then people are picking up. Noting a lot of BS, and so dumping all of it as being that. Things would go so much better for everyone here if they simply paid attention to these details. And yet, it's details you only really note because you know it's a story and all these things are likely to play into a larger sense. We are being genre savvy, something they can't quite be so it does work. If making me want to slap them upside the back of the head for missing it now and then.
Another bit, that keeps coming up. No one really putting themselves in others shoes. Understanding their point of view, seeing how THEY see the world. Just treating their own mindset as the right one and going with that being how everyone thinks. Even the bronies who really should know better. Failing to take others on their own merits. Cause yeah, THIS is more how you deal with the Channic. Deal with them in the way they want to deal with others. Be direct, strong, unyielding. Screw politeness.
So much would work out better if they stopped and tried to do this more often. Then again given the Mods view of things, it makes sense for it to be something that isn't thought of often in this world.
Yup, sounds like their type of story.
Well now.... well well well..... getting closer to some real answers here. Loving it!
Also, yes THAT version of the story may not have ended well, but even these guys are failing to see beyond their own mindset. This time that vessel also has the magic of Friendship working for him.
So.... Someone wanting power/immortality makes a pact with The Beast or one of it's minions, and gains that through sacrificing another? it's what it feels like so far. Given the wording here... and the hints before. An Elderly Mod seeking to find a secret to not dying finds this, sacrifices a Channic person who did a lot of really horrible things, and they sort of merge into the person now known as Honesty. Though with a bit of The Beast in the Bay along with them. Maybe not precisely but feel it's something along those lines.
All good questions and ones I'd love to see. Love the explanation for the masks blocking him, this all clicks, very well set up, and feels like we are moving closer to the answers, ones I am SO eager to see. And Coin may be the one person in the brony group that this would really work on. The other Honesty folks are to dedicated to Honesty to question him at all or buy any of this. The rest of the group don't know him well enough to see how valid this stuff is. And Violet knows, but believes in him anyway. Be very interesting to know just how much the other Wardens know about his past.
Here i thought you were supposed to be good at counting.
OHHH yeah very well handled delivery.
Seriously, this guy is AWESOME!
And I can't help but picture that he is doing this naked. Or at least in just underwear.
This could make DISCORD pause for a second..... okay maybe a millisecond... and more out of appreciation.
Complete with Coin shaped dust cloud hanging in the air for a moment?
Not coming from him as well?
Quite convenient. Then again, given how flighty he seems, being ready to make a break for it if needed fits.
OHHHH Or he saw someone coming through the doors looking to talk to him. Quite nice.
So the bodyguard is trying to keep them apart on both ends. Good to know that Ott at least seems willing to talk. Question now is, why is the body guard acting like that?
Seriously, he's freaking awesome in an fully insane way.
HINT! HINT!
Also meeting in a graveyard.... creepy much?
Did you seriously NOT GET THE DAMN HINT!?
Damn you are worse the Tagon.schlockmercenary.com/strip/1886/0/schlock20050810.jpg?v=1443894895976
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So, secret entrance in the palace itself. Also so this group ARE the changelings.. but if they are a pro brony group, why are they acting so hostile towards them?
At least he's honest about it and.. no I don't think so.
Like maybe a small green heart? it would be stupid to place the icon in the palace itself, and yet, the guard and Arcadio are so stupid and inept... I could see them getting away with it. Still you know one more secret entrance.
Yup, saw this coming. In this instance, Bei's gets to be Kevyn.
schlockmercenary.com/strip/1887/0/schlock20050811.jpg?v=1443894895984
And damn... I agree LEARN SUBTEXT! I take shit more literally then most, and even I can tell when there is more then JUST the words being said.
And Coin fully deserves that tone right now.
Coin, you JUST got lectured about Subtext... NOTICE THE SUBTEXT HERE!
And yeah, this guy is WAY smarter and knows way more then anyone in the story suspects. AND I LOVE IT!
And given his actions.. I believe it. Though wh..... Waaaaiiit wait wait wait.....
Hmmmmmmm..................... He is very Pinkie-ish........
(And yes, love how the supplemental material seems to be working in little hints and clues.)
Should have reversed those priorities and told her first, THEN come back to search.
Again, how much do the know/suspect about honesty?
She is in full intrigue mode. Also...... all alone...... Have fun!
And no Trollestia around to blame that feeling one.
Buddha reference. Nice.
Now start talking and make it less so.
Seems normal. So, where is he going with this?
Ah, setting up to describe how crap this place has become?
Factors/Asshole.. Potato/Tomahto
But how did they know he found it?
Don't bother. Still nice sentiment, I'm liking this guy too.
AHHHHHHHHH... not an excuse for becoming the shit he is, but does explain some of it. One pampered and never learning to do shit himself the other ignored.....
Get rid of the assholes in charge in the first place or at least weaken their power?
Yup, people that love and want to see their city thrive, to be a jewel it was meant to be, and see how those in charge are ruining it through neglect, incompetence, and sadism. Fits very well.
Add in the values of The Six.... it's not a bad plan. Plus making the leader reverse course would help diminish their overall power.. it's a start.
Since saving him would reveal themselves, and thus ruin what they intend to do. Catch 22. They can only work what they need to do by staying secret, but their best chance for that requires them to reveal themselves...... Unless just one of them comes forward and says he was with Dabrious.... Be harder though.
Still explains the avoiding Bronies, they aren't so much 'pro-Collective' as 'anti-Martes' and right now are going full Maxim 29
YAY Propaganda!
Blessing and curse, not just curse.
AHHHHHHHHH, alright, this makes sense. He swore not to reveal anything, and his power binds him to that through the oath?
Paranoid... but I can't really blame them. They have good reason to be afraid, even if it is preventing them from getting what they really need now and could be self defeating.
No, you are speaking of hypotheticals.
Did you stop to consider how many people here would die if the society reveals itself?
It is always a test.
IF Arcadio was around.... but if not... and given how eager Halforth is to find something to punish him with.....
The Magic of Friendship. And a group that isn't going to put up with his shit, is not afraid of him, and has WAY more skill then his incompetent, haughty, over confident ass.
Any plan you can walk away from? But not really....
Toeing the line.
And to think on.
So, saving Joh needs the Changelings, and getting them to act requires taking Arcadio out of power.
I am liking this.
Ohhhh boy, more foreshadowing.
And slip in a bit of lightheartedness after all that heavy.
Yeah this is party rules 101. Make sure you have your Diplomancer on hand during time like this.
Also this.
Yeeeaaahhh.. Naming themselves after.. well The Changelings given when this takes place Series wise... not a huge confidence builder either.
And Violet continues to be awesome.
AKA, Winning a battle just to lose the war.
Yup
Eeyup
Hell yeah Lady Wright! Now, how long till we get to see her in action?
Why does that sound so familiar?
And that is what counts. Not never making mistakes.. everyone will. But learning from them.
Story moving forward, more deeper hints, building to some reveals, and things creeping closer and closer to a head. I like it! Can't wait to see where this goes.
breathe
That distraction is hilarious, by the way.
Ott is cool.
Ah, it took me a second to get it when they called him a 'horned' horse-lover, but that is extremely clever.
Being cuckolded (or simply a 'cuck' in 4chan slang) was also commonly referred to as 'wearing the horns'
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........
Ohhhhhhh... that IS clever!
8132552
Yes! I was so hoping that someone would pick up on that. Seeing how that particular insult has some pretty long roots in history, I thought it would be funny to reference a more Shakespearian way of saying it. Like I said, I'm glad that someone caught the joke.
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Well, whatever else Withins-Bei might be, he is certainly distracting!
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8131419
Man, finals must be getting to me. Although...
...that one was actually intentional--you can chalk it up to the anonymite's accents that make for some strange word choices. The Chan is not well-known for its skill in grammar.
Believe it or not, I actually researched this before I put this line into the story. Turns out, periscopes have a long and storied history: the earliest example of one dates back to the 15th century, hard as it is to imagine. I guess people had a need for looking over tall obstacles even before they started making submarines.
Yeah, a 'byt' is the common currency of the Known Internet. I think it only came up one time before now, in the chapter where Donnet needs to bribe the bar owner. But yes, it is a play on a computer byte and a 'bit' being the currency of Equestria.
In my defense, I thought it was funny.
To be fair, is a dalliance between Withins-Bei and Syll really a mental image you want to have?
Coin: "Er... hello, can I he—"
Anonymites: "REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"
Quite possibly, yes.
It won't be the last one, either.
All that I'll say is this: keep reading.
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"Funny" not sure about, it is definitely a great idea and I love it, just wasn't sure it was intentional or not. Now that I know it is, yeah this is rather smart.
Can't wait!
And yeah, just again, SO LOVING this story! So much detail, so much effort, the worldbuilding, slipping in stuff in the extra bits that helps lead to idea here... SO DAMN GOOD!