The arcana

2. The high priestess

You've seen many strange things in your time as a magician's apprentice... But the events of this night was strangest yet. Seeking a moments rest, you go upstairs to lie down... and slip away, lost in a dream.

The sky is no more than a slim, green line along the endless horizon. Asra sits beside you, on the back of a strange beast.
   "Master, where are we?" You asked the white haired magician, as the dark clouds bear down all around the landscape, a shifting sea of rust-coloured sand, ahead is perfect black stone. "Far enough from home, I think," Sara replied, you asked again, "Far enough... For what?"

Asra replies, "For answers. For clarity. And I need them soon. A storm is coming..." He looks out into the distance, his voice dimming to a wistful whisper. You strain to see where the path leads, but it keeps changing, asra speaks again, "soon there will be crossroads." You reply, even a bit more confused, "How soon? Where do they lead?" Asra replies to the question, "Depends which one you take." His hand reach for mine but he stops just short. The sands rise all around us on a chilly wind, bottling out the sky.
   "For now, Gabriella... Rest," asra said and his voice faded away, you fall into a dreamless slumber.

+ (+= time skip)

When you wake, dawn light is filtering through the dusty windows. You are to meet the Countess at the Palace, for some unknown purpose. You thow on a travelling cloak and hurry outside, dragging the heavy door shut behind me.

After last night's intrusion... You turn the first lock, and then the second and third. Almost satisfied, you press your right hand to the door and whisper a 'cross-me-not' spell. White whorls glow deep within the door, slowly fading into the grain. You're about the leave when the hair at the nape of your neck rises in alarm. Someone is... Right beside you, a dark shape looking in the alley.



The form is certainly human, though enormous in size. Their flesh is scored in scars, clean and jagged, shallow and deep. Shrouded in a pall of weatherbeaten furs, it's hard to make out a face... But they were definitely watching you.

They were standing between you and the road to the Palace. You take a step forward, watching the figure cautiously. Stormy green eyes follow my movements as you enter the alley, but the stranger made no move. A voice like distance thunder rumbles from beneath their robes, "You are in grave danger." The earthy scent of myrrh washed over you, and you stop in your tracks, the voice spoke again, "He will return, uninvited. He will offer you a gift, when you need it most... Turn it away. Or you will fall into his hand... Just like the rest of us." You blink, trying to process what you just heard. There is shuffling behind  you the dragging of rough cloth and chains. And then, silence. You look up and down the foggy alley. You left the shop, and then... Wasn't someone else here just now? You shake off the fading thought. You don't have time to dawdle; the Countess is expecting you. Exhaling deeply, you continue toward the narrow, mossy steps to the market place.

It's early yet, and the market place is already wide awake. All around you are the sounds of bartering, laughter, venders hawking there wares. A voice you know well calls out to you over the see of noise, "Gabriella! Have you eaten?" it was the Baker, they spoke up again, "I've got the pumpkin loaf you like in the oven. Won't be long now.  Come, sit down, talk for a while!" You sniff the air,  and your stomach twists in hunger. Then again, you should be careful of the time... You decline the invitation with a friendly wave. The baker nods, ducking back inside the sweet-smelling booth.



A raven, perched overhead, meets your gaze. It's fathomless eyes look beyond you, over your shoulder. You glance back...



...Your heart stutters in shock. Julian moves cassually through the crowd without his mask. He doesn't seem to have spotted you. With out a second thought, you go after him. But traffic is moving against you, and you don't want to make and obvious disturbance. Julian looks unguarded, surveying the market with leisurely intrest. What is he doing, unmasked in broad daylight? Does he want to get caught? The wanted posters never came down. People around here must know his face. The Raven shrieks again, and Julian turns around. Both of your eyes lock. You freeze in your tracks, pulse quickening. Suddenly, you feel a sharp pain as a wooden weal rolls over you toes. A cart moves between you and Julian, blocking your view. When it has passed... He's gone. You stop, letting the herd of patrons weave around you. What are you doing? Why are you chasing him, putting yourself in danger? Shaking your head, you turn back to join the flow of traffic.

As you climb the well-worn steps, something catches your eye. A fortune tellers booth, tucked away in a shady corner. How nostalgic... Asra once operated out of a place just like it. As you are lost in your musings, a patron emerges from the booth.



"Lucky numbers, check. Groceries—" the patron said to themselves, you dont notice them backing into you until you both crash into eachother. "Ack!" The patron screamed, the impact made you stumble, teetering on the edge of a step. It also upsets the basket ballanced on the stranger's hip... Which sends a dozen pomegranates rolling down the stairs.

"Oh, perfect! As if I wasn't already late..." The patron said in frustration,  you drop into a crouch beside the stranger to help. You spot a pomegranate as it's about to get stomped under a stray hoof, and swipe it at the last second. When you hand it back to the stranger, their eyes sparkle with delight. And they spoke up, "Ooh, thank you! How sweet of you to help. And after I bumped into you in the first place." Together, you hunt down the rest of the pomegranates. Their a little bruised, but no worse for wear. The stranger speaks up, "Well, I can't thank you enough!" They offer you a hand. The skin on their small palm is rough against mine, calloused. "Probably shouldn't do this but..." The stranger said, rubbing it off on a sleeve, they offer me a fruit from the basket. When you accept it, the stranger gives you a smile that warms your chest, the stranger speaks up again, "Take care alright? I'll see you around—" The strangers eyes widen as they take a closer look at you, they spoke up again, "wait, wait, wait! I know you!" And you give a reply, "Er..." Your at a loss. You have no idea who they are,  they speak up again, "Your Gabriella, the magician. Countess Nadia said we were expecting you." We? "You can call me Portia. I'm milady's head servant," Portia said, oh. All the pieces click together. The pomegranates were for the Palace. And Portia's me rings a bell. I think I've heard of her, through gossip in the market., Portia speaks up again, "Well how lucky are we? Come on. I'll show you the quickest way to the Palace."

As the sun journeys across the sky. Portia and you climb stair after seemingly infinite stair. The higher we ascend, the fewer travelers we encounter along the way. By the time you both reached the top, you can barely walk. Though Portia seems as energetic as usual. She pauses to let you catch your breath, and she spoke up, "Gabriella... I'm glad your here. The Countess could use good help. And you look like a good sort to me."

When we reach the Palace, it's near dark.

Before you is a towering gate of twisted iron. Beyond that, the Palace rises in a swirl of glittering spires. Two guards stand on either side of the gate. Their eyes glint at you from behind their helmets. But they lower their weapons when they see Portia. "Luvidico,  Bludmila, this is Gabriella. She'll be staying at our guest, Gabriella, Lucivido and Bludmila," Portia announced, the guards nod at you, their stuff posture relaxing. In unison, they push open the heavy iron gate. Portia spoke up.

"After you, Gabriella." She says kindly, Portia leads you across the long, steep brige. The gates slam shut behind you, and there is no turning back. Some kind of eel twista through swirling waters below, glowing like a bloodless ghost. Portia tugs your arm, leading you away from the edge of the bridge. "Come on. We don't want to keep milady waiting," Portia points out, as you two approach the intricate doors, anxieties start to rise like bubbles coming to boil in you. Is this wise? What awaits yo, in this fortress so far from home? Too soon, we are standing before the doors.

"Here we are!" Portia said smiling. She swings her fistagainst the copper plating, three skull-rattling strikes. As the last echoes fade, the pendulous doors swing inward...

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