Avishraa Reloaded

'Madam Oracle,

I am sorrowed to hear of the death of your former bodyguard. I offer my deepest condolences; Sakuth and I were never very close, but I knew him by reputation as an honorable man who took his job seriously. May he be remembered as one who died defending the Citadel from those who would cause it harm.

I have heard that you are currently looking for a replacement bodyguard, and I believe I would be well-suited to the job. I have served similar roles in the past, and my past clients can vouch for both my skill and my loyalty. (Though given your abilities, I expect you could easily verify this for yourself!)

I would be very interested in meeting with you privately so that we can discuss this matter in more detail. If you are interested, please let me know of a time and place in whatever manner is easiest.

May the Gods smile upon you, -Teneth of the Watchers Guild'

There was much that was not said in the letter, of course – though there were a handful of subtle hints, if one knew how to look for them. For all Teneth knew, Dlyss would see through all of them, identify him as a threat, and arrange to have him killed in a way that would be difficult to trace back to her. Or perhaps she was not nearly as cunning as he thought, and someone else was pulling the strings. But given all the evidence, that was seeming increasingly unlikely.

It was also possible that she wouldn't bite, and the old game would simply continue – watching from afar, trying to dissect the Oracle's plans. Perhaps she'd already taken his existence into account and deemed it irrelevant. A safe, if unpleasantly dull, possibility.

But if she did take the bait? The possibilities opened up. Risky, certainly, but there was no reward without risk. And the chance of learning what it all meant, of having access to the Oracle's thoughts – such an opportunity was well worth the risk, especially when compared with the dangers of being opposed to her.

After what must've been the thirtysixth time re-reading the letter, Teneth breathed a sigh, neatly folding the message and stamping it with the Guild's seal. Now it was just a matter of delivery to the Oracle's home in the Inner Court. He could always hire a courier, but delivering it himself felt like it would give a better impresssion, not to mention offering him the chance to familiarize himself with that particular part of the city.

Teneth recalled having heard the previous vigil - for his fellow mentalists in the Casters' Guild had become diligent, if occasionally annoying, in making current events available to the populance of Oldstone - that there had been large gatherings of the Oracle's supporters in the Inner Court. Either Dlyss had already seen fit to speak to them, however, or perhaps the Council had decided to gently discourage the crowds; for when he had arrived in the select subterranean neighborhood, there were no large clusters of people blocking the passages, though the central landing of the Third Level still had some protesters calling out to the high and mighty.

It said something about the times, perhaps, that rather than genteelly ignoring the interlopers as they usually did - as, indeed, they were currently doing to him - these worthy folk gave some sign of paying attention to what the Oracle's supporters were saying, if not engaging them directly.

Teneth took his time descending to the Third Level and entering the West Corridor; if nothing else, the architecture here was marvelous, one of the wonders of the Citadel. The First Level, some way above, was the traditional haunt of the Founding Families and the seat of government, but it many ways it was austere and heavy-handed in its decoration; the rising stars of the lower levels, by contrast, had felt the need to create a more welcoming style in which to demonstrate their wealth.

The doorways in the West Corridor alternated sides, and so, with some uncertainty, Teneth approached the one that was first on the right but second overall. It was an ungated archway, but led into a high, domed vestibule; on the opposite side of it was a closed door with a guard on either side. They were talking quietly as he entered the vestibule, but they broke off and sized him up as he approached. “You have business here?” one of them asked.

Teneth was a bit on the large side for a Chosen male, with a deep violet coloration that bordered on black, fading to a grayish purple on his underside. He wore a simple cloak with no particular markings, more for warmth than anything else, and carried a small leather satchel.

“I do believe so,” he replied amiably. “This is the dwelling of the Oracle Dlyss, correct?” He didn't bother to wait for a verbal response; judging from what he saw in the guards' surface thoughts, he had found the correct place. Digging through his satchel, he pulled out the letter, sealed with the icon of a single, watching eye. “I was hoping to deliver this to her.”

One of the guards glanced at the letter. “You'd be… Teneth, was it?” He looked at the other guard, who peered at Teneth. The violet male felt the faint brushing of a mentalist's touch upon his own psyche. It wasn't entirely surprising; mentalists were a good fit for security duty, even those who weren't Watchers (and the training to be a Watcher was hard to come by). Still, it spoke of a certain level of preparedness to have one immediately available at the door rather than just ready to be summoned.

The mentalist guard nodded. “Teneth indeed. You're expected.” He made no move to take the letter, but opened a small hatch in the door, murmured to someone inside, and waited. After a few moments, the door was opened to reveal a russet-colored male with a no-nonsense expression, who ushered him into the house.

“I am Rashath,” he said, “the Oracle's majordomo. She foresaw your arrival and ordered that you be admitted.”

Teneth's icy blue eyes locked with the mentalist guard's, momentarily sizing him up, just in case things went in an unexpected direction. After a moment of tension, he allowed the guard to confirm that he was indeed Teneth, and also helpfully mentally confirmed that he was unarmed and had no intentions of harming the Oracle.

The news that he was expected came as a mild shock. Teneth wasn't used to being expected before even making himself known. But a moment's thought cleared up the confusion: Of course an Oracle would be able to know he was coming in advance. It was foolishness to assume otherwise.

Though the question of when, exactly she had foreseen his arrival still left an uncomfortable uncertainty in his gut. Not even a pause after his initial arrival, and he was already being escorted into Dlyss's home. At least this saves us both a lot of waiting, he thought to himself.

“A pleasure to meet you, Rashath,” Teneth responded, amicably if perhaps a bit preoccupied. “I had gathered as much from my reception at the gates. If you don't mind my asking… when did she tell you that I would be arriving?”

This question earned Teneth a slightly stiff look from Rashath, and he perceived from the direction of the latter's thoughts that asking about the Oracle's predictions while not in her presence was something of a violation of etiquette. Nonetheless, the tone of the question was apparently thought to be well-meaning enough that he responded to it. “Half a rest ago.”

Which, though not all that long ago, was nonetheless around the time he'd finished writing the letter - shortly before he'd set out.

He followed Rashath to a chamber apparently intended for audiences; there was, against one wall, a dais with divan atop it - obviously intended for the mistress of the house - and, arranged in semicircles around it, various plush cushions for visitors. “Please feel free to choose a seat,” the servant told him. “The Oracle will be with you shortly.”

He withdrew. A few minutes later, the woman herself entered and seated herself primly on the divan. Seeing the Oracle Dlyss for the first time, it was hard to ignore certain similarities of appearance with Teneth; the largely purple coloration, though not nearly so fark as his; the icy-blue eyes. She was not particularly tall for a woman, but the shape beneath her white robe gave the impression of a bulky, powerful build.

Her mind was, very much, the mind of a Srian, all patterns and plans and rules. Dlyss did not give the impression of being particularly skilled at obscuring her thoughts, in the way that a few denizens of the Citadel had; but it was clear that she had enough self-awareness to potentially feel the effects of an unwanted intrusion into their deeper recesses.

On the surface, however, there was… curiosity, or at least a chilly cousin to it. An awaiting of information to be used to make a decision.

She was staring dispassionately into his eyes with unnerving directness. What was it she was seeing in him? “Welcome,” she said at last, “Teneth the Watcher. I believe you have come to discuss something with me.”

Half a rest. That was at least a bit comforting; she hadn't foreseen it vigils in advance. Or if she had, she had chosen not to divulge it until the last moment. It wasn't exactly common knowledge that the Oracle's foresight had limits, that her view of the future wasn't absolute – but it wasn't a closely-guarded secret, either. Perhaps she couldn't be certain he would come until he'd finished the letter. After all, even a Srian's behavior wasn't perfectly predictable.

The short wait gave him time to settle his thoughts. He picked a comfortable-looking cushion that granted a decent view of the room, removed his cloak and folded it neatly beneath him. The letter was returned to its place in his satchel; he could retrieve it in the off chance Dlyss didn't already know its contents.

When the Oracle entered, Teneth respectfully bowed his head, but waited for her to begin the conversation, instead taking in everything he could about her. This was the closest he'd ever physically been to her before today; she certainly had an intimidating demeanor. Very obviously a Srian mind, chains of thought branching off in a beautiful structure. The depths were difficult to see without prying through the structure, but a common theme of certainty and necessity pervaded. It would be fair to say that reducing uncertainty was the entire reason she had allowed him this audience.

His gaze didn't shy away from hers, sharing a quiet intensity, only softening slightly when she spoke. “Dlyss the Oracle. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” A warm smile. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.” He resisted the urge to add 'at such short notice'.

Teneth closed his eyes, punctuating his reply with a slow inhale. “You seem like someone who prefers a direct approach, so let me be as direct as I can.” Eyes opened again, staring intently at Dlyss, each sentence separated by a pause to ensure it landed. “Sakuth is dead. I would like to know why. In exchange for this information, I will offer you my services as his replacement.”

Aside from a very slight lowering of the eyelids, Dlyss' neutral expression failed to change. She lowered herself fully into the cushions of the divan, as if expecting an extended conversation. “I note,” she replied mildly, “that it was reported that Sakuth died during an attack by bandits upon my person. I assure you that that report was based upon my own statements. Do you feel, perhaps, that it was not accurate?”

Though Dlyss was indeed often known for her directness, it appeared that on this occasion she was not inclined to engage in it, at least not yet. She did not seem surprised by the question; she did not seem concerned, either.

Teneth smiled humorlessly, letting out a soft sigh of mild exasperation. “Sure, we can do it this way instead,” he commented, addressed to no one in particular.

“Everything you just said is, of course, entirely true; I believe that there was a bandit attack on your person, and that Sakuth died during it. But the public version of the story has too many holes in it. Maybe you can answer a few questions for me that will help me understand the situation better. To start, when exactly did you become aware that your life would be in danger? And what did you do when you found that out?”

Dlyss regarded him with the same stare for a moment, then appeared to reach a decision. “A project under my sponsorship required information on growing conditions in the mountains near Sheathetalon Outpost. I, Sakuth, and two others were out in the field when the premonition came. I sent the two others away with the pretense that they should examine a different area before returning to the outpost. Sakuth remained with me. He could, of course, see that there was a threat from the direction of my thoughts.

She considered her words before adding, “Sakuth was not skilled in physical combat, so there was always a certain amount of risk for him. But there was a possibility of telepathic interference, which he would have been better placed to defend against. I did what I could to prevent him from being harmed by them.”

The hints from her mind clearly showed that she believed what she was saying. This was not the same as saying she spoke the truth - a mentalist who paid any attention to people soon realized that they convinced themselves of some quite unlikely things - but she did not seem to be lying.

This was a familiar pattern. Dlyss believed every word she was saying, but she was also being very careful about what exactly she said. You're hiding something. Perhaps with a little bit of prodding, he could confirm exactly what it was. “So, you were accosted by multiple bandits. How many? Five?” He probed deeper into her thoughts, just enough to get confirmation. “Five. Five bandits, and just the two of you. You get out alive, Sakuth does not, and somehow all five of those bandits wind up dead. How exactly does that happen?”

“The full extent of my abilities has never been needed to be brought to public attention; but I am able to manipulate space in any number of ways, in addition to being able to see through time. The attack was not a trivial matter, but neither was it overly concerning.” The stare continued, and there was a sense of decisions being made.

After a few moments, she continued, “I briefly interviewed the last of the bandits in order to determine the cause of the attack. It was his blade that took Sakuth's life.” She thoughtfully tapped a claw against the edge of the divan. “I suppose it would not surprise you at this point to know that the bandit's hand was not the one wielding it.”

Able to manipulate space. What would that even look like? He could probably find out by digging through her memories, but that felt needlessly rude. Still, it wasn't too hard to imagine how such an ability might be useful for self-defense, or be used offensively.

And then the final piece slotted into place. It wasn't strictly speaking an admission of guilt, but given everything else she'd said, there weren't many plausible alternatives. Anger surged in Teneth's chest, but he simply took a deep breath, wrestling the emotion into calm. “It's good to have my suspicions confirmed. Thank you,” he replied, offering a brief, genuine smile tinged with sadness.

To be honest, he hadn't been entirely certain that she'd killed Sakuth before this point. She could just as easily have simply allowed the bandits to kill him. But either way, she would have had a reason for making it happen.

There was a long moment of silence as Teneth directed his attention to the floor, one claw idly tracing an abstract pattern in the dust as he considered his next move. “Forgive me if you already know all this, but I would prefer to make it explicit. As you have probably determined by now, I am not here seeking revenge. Nor am I here to bring you to justice, spread word of your secrets, or attempt to blackmail you. You've already made clear what happens to those who oppose you, and I have no intention of testing that.

“On the other hand,” he continued, turning his attention back to Dlyss, “I think you can see why I'm more useful to you as an ally than as an enemy. Any sufficiently clever and well-trained mentalist could have figured out everything you've told me, given the right motivation. You may be able to avoid such attention for a time with your foresight, but that still has its limits – as evidenced by what happened at Sheathetalon.

“So, rather than trying to stab each other in the back at the earliest opportunity, causing problems for us both, I would like to work with you to try and ensure that doesn't happen.” A cheerful smile crossed Teneth's face, as he shifted his posture into something a bit more relaxed. “Doing so will require a measure of trust, from both of us, which I expect will take some time to earn. Are you amenable to this?”

Dlyss regarded him thoughtfully. “I believe so,” she said. “I should say that, in many ways, it was an approaching lack of trust that resulted in Sakuth's end. His death had become necessary, but was, regardless, both a waste of a Chosen life and an unneeded distraction. I would greatly prefer things to be different with my next psycheguard.

“I can see from the likely futures of this moment that what you say about your intentions is quite likely true. I admit, however, to being interested in what it is that you seek from entering my service. Few indeed would go to one, seeking employment in the duties of his murdered predecessor, promising and evidently truly meaning not to betray or extort, all for the sake of a reasonable contract of payment.”