Unto Dust

019.

Retrieving straightforward answers from Leo had been like pulling teeth, though this was nothing new from her experience with philosophical types from back at the university. A question would be countered with another question, then any answer would have to be given appropriate nuance and filtered through various perspectives, when finally, at the end of an hour of discussion, she would hardly remember what she had asked in the first place.

Still, she had managed to extract from him most of what she had wanted to learn. It had essentially been what she had been expecting. The politics of even an insular "village" like Faersidda was hideously complex. This, writ large, encompassed the whole of the labyrinthine Subterra. They might possess magickery but they were still susceptible to greed and grudges .

Goldy found her not long after she stepped outside the row of deceivingly rectangular buildings, his dirty blond hair plastered across his forehead. He had likely found her through the tracking inscriptions on the pouch. Yet he had not found her until she left Leo's place, leading her to believe he was able to block such tracking spells. True, the symbols for surveillance were relatively basic, but the fact remained.

"Finally," he gasped when he caught his breath. "You're damned difficult to find, woman."

Fiona had to laugh at that. "Is Qafiya okay?"

He shrugged. "More or less. Physically she's fine. Her pride has taken a walloping she's not likely to forget anytime soon. And you? Where were you? What were you doing?" His eyes roamed about the dilapidated buildings around them with distaste. "Didja get lost?"

It was apparent that Leo had gone to significant lengths to disguise his place as abandoned and uninhabitable from the outside, not to mention dispel tracking. She felt compelled to keep his secret. "I was talking to an architect, then got lost trying to find my way back."

If he thought it strange, he made no effort to discuss it. "Oh. Well, I'm glad I found you then. Where do you want to go now?"

Fiona slipped her hand into her pocket and wound her fingers over the flit. It had been playing the same signal over and over.

Found. Found. Found.

"I think it's time we returned to Glocken Street."

---

When they entered the meeting room, an uneasy tension stilled the air. Even Orithin was sitting alertly, his fingers tented atop the table.

Their eyes were fixed on the shaking image of a young boy's back---Suli was running after Enjo. Fiona closed her hands around the flit. As she expected, Suli and Orithin were passing messages back and forth. It was an admirable feat, really, to be able to do so whilst running.

Her cipher skills were still subpar, and she could only catch a word here and there. Body. Copury. Going. House.

From those words, she gathered her body had been found and taken to the boardinghouse. They were likely on their way to claim the body.

She readjusted her grip on the flit, her palms sweating profusely. The farce was drawing to an end, at last. Once Enjo found her letter, all that would be left is for them to give her a funeral---something Fiona did not entirely believe would happen. Of course, there was still the possibility that she would need a real funeral, in the unlikely event the folkway decided to kill her after all.

The flit shuddered. This time she was able to make out the entirety of the message.

Fiona is here.