#codenamecynic

Instead, Harper ran into the field, got me out and stabilised me.

He has said that he means me no harm, that he would help, that he would see this done. It can’t be that simple. He is an intelligent and dangerous man, exceedingly skilled in [the Mulhorandi word used here could be translated into Common as ‘politics’, ‘interpersonal dynamics’, or ‘manipulation’]. If you save a life, you must have some further use for it in mind – it’s not an unusual manoeuvre – but in that case, it would be as counterproductive as it was insulting to decline the debt I acknowledged. What in all the Infinite Abyss is his objective?

What does he want from me?

Katy is being irritatingly melodramatic about the whole affair. Anyone with a brain in their head and any familiarity with the Weave can feel the difference between a spell she’s purposefully cast and when her magic goes wild. It’s a wonder any sorcerer survives their own magic – instinct is no substitute for conscious, reasoned control. In the interests of avoiding a repeat incident, I’ve offered to try and teach her. I entertain doubts about the efficacy of the whole business. She’s a child still, but one very set in her undisciplined ways – also, I’ve little knowledge of wild magic, the messy, chaotic, inelegant blight on the Weave that it is - and I very much doubt that the exercises that novice wizards are taught will be much help to her. We approach magic from completely opposite directions. Still. I’ll find a way. I refuse to be defeated by anything so minor as an uncontrolled sorceress and her unshaped magic.

Shay continues to be her contained, sensible self. It is a relief to be able to have a sane conversation in a civilised language with someone whose motives are largely known and whose background is similar enough that I do not have to struggle to make myself understood. I must be more careful; I would not like her to have to return home and confess failure to her elders, and not only because I would be dead at that point.

I suspect I’ll never forget the first time I visited the monastery. I am not squeamish, but I do not comprehend unnecessary cruelty. There is a point beyond which punishment or torture becomes ineffective, even as a deterrent for its witnesses. The monks passed it long ago. There was one specimen; most of his internal organs had been externalised for the education of twenty years’ worth of novice monks. The scarring, the burns, grafts, stitching on the living surface of his lungs… not something I would willingly bring on Shay.

…absolute darkness. Not the mere absence of light, but a void that actively obliterates it. Seventeen. The touch of darkness is a fluid netting, like veins or cobwebs, a warm almost-pressure against my face, enmeshing my hands. Thirty-five. Two serpentine figures, dividing and becoming men, then coming together again. Exchanges of matter.

That part of the dream is easy enough to record. After that… well. I was watching and I was the medium in which they moved, and if the images were unspecific, the sensations were not. I haven’t been troubled by desire that intense in years. There was fear, too, and a sense of familiarity about the men. I thought at one point it might be any pairing of Faraghor, Halvren or Vannos, if it were some trick of my subconscious, but it had the depth and cadence of a genuine dream. I hope it wasn’t, given that such dreams have a tendency to recur – in whole or in element - and once was unsettling enough.

It keeps teasing at the back of my mind - perhaps because of that unplaced sense of familiarity, perhaps because of the lingering and unwelcome disquiet. Inevitable, when control cracks, but nothing I haven’t dealt with before.

(the following line wanders upward and overlaps with previous lines, as though the writer was no longer looking at the page)

Stop watching me write, Harper. I can feel you smirking.

… it’s beautiful. One spell, several days of intense study, and all its secrets would be mine. My fingertips itch, and only touching the spine really soothes them. But I have to think.

My position is not strong enough. As an outsider to the Skullport Enclave, I was always going to attract attention – rather more of it than is compatible with my favoured approaches – and my display in the Tournament was not sufficiently intimidating to make any potential rivals among the Enclave Red Wizards think twice. Any good that might have come from it, I probably undid by my idiotic visit the day before we left. I expect, and have warned the others, that someone will try to claim my prize soon.

There are several options open to me, and myriad ways to achieve them.

Katy’s suggestion to simply walk away with the tome is ludicrous. I see little reason for it… unless she believes that I would unable to adapt or survive outside the order, and would thereby become more dependent, easily exploitable to her ends. She’s shown little sign of that order of thought, but it never pays to underestimate someone. Certainly Harper is capable of that sort of planning, and he could easily steer her in the correct direction... My early training has not left me well-suited me for life out here, true, but I am stronger than they think, and I certainly have no intention of abandoning my life’s purpose for an ill-defined whim.

If I handed it back intact… I would want some leverage to ensure that I was adequately rewarded. Difficult, but not impossible. The main fault with this is, of course, the sacrifice it entails. I want this tome, but there are things I may want more. The possible favour of Metoth Zurn. My advancement in the order. Not to antagonise Zurn further, or to make an enemy of the complete unknown to whom he intended to give the book – assuming the original letter can be trusted in that regard. Skullport is Zurn’s territory, Waterdeep is Daraam’s, and I have their attention now; this is a poor time for risks. My own allies are clearly marked as such and vulnerable.

What Red Wizard worth her robes would walk into the same trap twice?

And yet, I keep tempting myself with the tome. How to use it, then give it to Zurn; how to cover my tracks, assuming he expects it to be active. On one hand, a century is not much time for someone sustained by necromancy; on the other, nobody likes to wait for their advantages. If I had thirty days, Nystul’s Magic Aura could make it appear active – but at the end of the study period, it would be obvious that something was wrong. Moot point; forty-eight hours would not be enough time to put myself entirely out of reach of Zurn or Daraam. I could use a scapegoat.

I have finally mastered Teleportation Circle and Nondetection (absurd, that the latter should have eluded me for so long, however little I like the concept), both of which may prove useful in the near future. It’s pleasing to finally have a use for the two sigil sequences I have memorised.

Interesting developments with Harper. It would appear that, after all these weeks of… I would write ‘innuendo’, but I believe that word suggests a degree of subtlety… they have found a moment of privacy for sex. Or, at least, Harper is willing to have us believe that’s the case, and I estimate the probability is high. Curious, and potentially troubling. I gave him the piece of advice that saved me in similar situations. I know Harper’s value; the drow remains an unknown and extremely dangerous factor.

He thanked me for helping Katy, despite the fact I’ve taught her nothing as yet. He didn’t deny he was kvaleth (a Mulhorandi word, not widely used outside Thay. ‘Superior’, ‘ascendant’, ‘dominant’, or ‘senior’ are possible Common translations, as are ‘responsible’, ‘with power’, ‘with authority’, ‘owed obedience’ and ‘owing protection’) to Katy in their alliance, but appeared genuinely grateful that I’d offered to teach her what he could not. It’s understandable that he would wish her magic under better control, I suppose – it could just as easily have been him within range of her fireball – but perhaps he is not fostering her dependence on him as carefully as I’d thought. He also winced, quite visibly, when I used the word ‘responsible’. Interesting. I suspect it might have something to do with his past, but I still lack sufficient information.

He said he would like Shay and myself to stay with them – giving further weight to the possibility that he was the one behind Katy’s suggestion that I simply walk away from my order. He also raised the subject several weeks before she did. I wish I knew what he was planning.

Shay seems to be drinking less. Possibly she’s come to the end of her alcohol supply after two weeks out in the Underdark, but I suspect there is something else afoot. I deem it inadvisable to press too hard. It appears that Shay may wish to leave the Long Death, but doesn’t believe it’s possible. As I told her, I think it unlikely they could do anything to track her that could not be dealt with, if that was her choice. Here I am, disdaining Harper for not keeping close control of his wastet-le (another Thayan term, the counterpart of the last difficult-to-translate one, indicating the ‘junior’, ‘inferior’, ‘obedient’, ‘protected’ or ‘lesser’ partner in an alliance), while I stand ready to sever the foundation of my alliance with Shay at her word. But I t- (a large ink blot follows the broken word, suggesting that the writer left her pen sitting on the page for some time).

Szass Tam’s pickled balls.

That would be problematic. It appears to be true.

I will have to think about this, and whether I shall inform her of it.

The rest of the page is left blank. When the text resumes, the handwriting is unusually slanted and untidy, and the encryption is almost cursory; the writer appears to have been in a hurry.

Well, how intriguing. Harper has escorted the drow just outside the Tiny Hut spell and is asking him questions. Which the drow is answering. Harper has (present tense, presumably the survivor in control of the family business) a cleric brother, possible fit with some of the things he’s said about the gods. Point of killing the Tyrran? Gave the truth before, impeding activities of his organisation. Difficulties of being on the wrong side of so many gods? The drow implies feeling responsible for an entire people, which requires him to provoke divine wrath, and there is nobody else who would do it properly, ‘we can’t choose whether the gods favour us or not’. Deity he serves? Harper wouldn’t recognise the name, but has nothing to fear on that account. Teach Khem the trick of navigating to Skullport? Shrewd request, will do so on our return.

The usual intricate encryption resumes at this point.

I am exceedingly impressed. That was a great deal of very useful information Harper extracted – and where I could hear it for myself, too, not merely reported to me. Of course, the drow might have been lying – one assumes he is familiar with the properties of the Tiny Hut spell - but it didn’t sound that way. For what that’s worth. I am more interested in Harper’s choice of action, although I will not read too much into it. He is far too good at what he does.