THE MAGE AND THE MYSTERY: AN ARCANUM ACCOUNT
Prologue
In a quiet and respectable hamlet somewhere north of Caladon, the very well-connected and slightly intoxicated Chester Blakesley watched, with more than a little interest, as two young ladies made a fashionably late entrance through a side door to the evening's soiree.
The older of the two discreetly adjusted and smoothed the wrinkles in her dress, then leaned toward the younger. "You see, Rosie? Here in plenty of time. Nothing to worry about now but to charm and flatter". She added after a furtive glance around the room, "Do remind me why we are charming and flattering these individuals?"
"Because these are important people, Ellie". The younger lady winked, grinning behind freckles and wisps of red hair. "Also, Mother threatened our heads on a dining plate for any indiscretions. Yours in particular".
"Aha, yes. I recall vividly now. A solid reason, I feel".
The two relaxed for a moment until Ellen, the older of the girls, caught sight of Blakesley ambling toward them with a disconcerting smirk and a sloshing wineglass. "Oh, blast it. Rosalind, eyes forward, keep walking".
Rosalind jerked her head around. "What is-oh no..."
"Just walk. We are calm, we are gentlewomanly, and we are completely oblivious to our surroundings, aren't we?" Ellen made a quick and subtle gesture, and the slightest of commotions arose behind them. Rosalind peered over her shoulder as Blakesley lavished apologies on no one in particular-though his attention did settle well below eye level on a matronly guest-and dabbed at the former contents of his glass now staining the front of his jacket.
"Ellie," she chided playfully, "I don't think that's what it's meant to be used for".
"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean". Ellen's eyebrow twisted just so. "It does sound like our lecherous friend is shaping up for a dismal evening, doesn't it?"
"Ellen Corville," Rosalind teased, "you are not planning to further torment the fellow, are you?"
"Torment? Planning? Surely not. But if that-I'm loath to say gentleman-decides once more to leer at my little sister the way he does, I can't be held responsible for-"
"For what, Miss Ellen?"
The girls stopped and craned their necks. A lady in bold green ruffles and tight black curls stood behind them, eyebrow raised, hands on hips.
"Beatrice!" Ellen clapped. "By all that's sacred and upright, it's good to see you. How have you been? Where have you been? We'd all but sent for a search party".
"Now, now, no need for theatrics". Beatrice embraced both the girls. "Life's been utterly and absolutely frenetic, but you know very well I'd not forget my favorite cousins Now what sort of wrath do I hear you threatening, Miss Ellen? What unlucky sot has finally got your hackles up?".
"Let us say youth, femininity, and a tidy inheritance in concert don't always attract the sort of attention one hopes". Ellen nodded to the fellow in question, who had since turned his sights elsewhere. "Rarely if ever, by all appearances".
"Mister Blakesley's one of Father's investors," Rosalind explained. "For some years, in fact. Ellie's managed to convince him she's-diseased in the head, or some such, either way he's left her alone of late-but now I've got more of his attentions than I ever wanted. Mercifully I'll be gone to the University in a few months' time, though I don't exactly think he's absorbed that".
"First of all, you,"-Beatrice pointed to Ellen-"are incorrigible. And you,"-she turned back to Rosalind-"neglected to inform me you'd been accepted! And here I'd been saying from the very first time she sat at the piano-do you remember that?-I'd said my dear young cousin had a marvelous talent if she'd only pursue it. Well done indeed, Miss Rosalind!" She now had the redheaded girl by the shoulders, giving her a small shake.
"Th-thank you, Bea". Exciting as the prospect was, Rosalind found the show of enthusiasm rather sudden.
Ellen was equally bemused. "I'd ask your cousin to look after you while you're in Caladon, Rosie, but I'm not sure of how you'd emerge from the ordeal".
"Oh, have your laughs". Beatrice gently released the younger lady. "In all seriousness, dears, be assured I will do just that. Family ought to help wherever it can, I should say".
"On that note, Beatrice…" Rosalind looked around for something she might have missed. "Oughtn't you be accompanied? Where is Darias tonight?".
She might well have asked for a dramatic reading. "That," Beatrice said, her gestures ever more animated, "is exactly the reason I happened by. Darias, I'm afraid, fell ill recently-poor dear could barely lift a finger for two days-and on that count I wanted to ask something of your sister".
Ellen exchanged glances with Rosalind. "Well...do bear in mind I'm rather an amateur at this, but if he's not averse to healing by magical means, I can certainly tr-"
"Oh, no no no". Beatrice waved her hands. "No, I don't mean that. My husband's on the mend already. Bit of time to recover, he'll be right as rain. No, I rather had something else in-do you still have Lan'rin's notes?"
The question caught Ellen off-guard. The elf Lan'rin had been a friend to the girls as children, and had enchanted the eldest in particular with her gathered accounts of ancient mysteries and magic. She had left the small town without explanation-and with it and any progress on her longtime research-and had entrusted her findings to Ellen in hopes that the young aspiring mage-researcher might see them completed.
Day-to-day reality had imposed itself upon those hopes, but hadn't entirely stamped them out.
"I might, perhaps...".
Rosalind added in a stage whisper, "She's practically committed them to memory".
"Ahem. Not all of them. In any case, I don't see-".
"Because I haven't explained yet, of course. You see, Darias and I had our hearts set on an excursion across the continent starting a week today. Terrible timing, this malady, and naturally both our spirits are awfully trod down, but it occurred to me there's no sense letting those arrangements go to waste even so. And then I recalled! You," she extended her arm toward a wary Ellen, "had gone on about a professor in Tarant whom you surmised had an interest in your elf friend's-and by association, your-research. Well, of course it only made good sense-"
"Beatrice," Ellen stopped her, "truly I'm...moved, but this isn't just a jaunt over the pond…"
"No," Beatrice grinned, leaning in close and producing a folded paper from her handbag. "Over the mountains".
"Luxury passenger...airship?" Rosalind read.
"And its first flight, at that". Beatrice handed the item-a ticket, as it were-to Ellen, who took it with some hesitation. She continued, "Supposed to be breathtaking, and of course much more expedient than all of that drifting around the coast. I should be hopping with envy, but since our plans are clearly untenable now, I'd not dream of denying you this chance".
Ellen blinked. The offer took a moment to coalesce in her mind. "Beatrice, I can't-"
"Yes, yes, of course, you'll pay me back every penny. I've no doubt. But I shall be insulted, disgraced even, should you be silly enough to refuse a perfect opportunity that I know you've been clamoring for".
Rosalind touched her on the arm. "You have wanted this for a long time, Ellie…".
Ellen's eyes drifted between her sister and her cousin. She spoke slowly and carefully. "If I didn't know better, I'd suspect you two as co-conspirators. In point of fact, I'm not sure I do know better".
"The way I see it," Beatrice said, her demeanor easing somewhat, "once your sister is gone for the big city, you can either take that little paper in your hand and follow that stubborn ambition of yours...or else you can stay to provide entertainment for the likes of that".
Both sisters turned their heads in the indicated direction as Blakesley, safely contained on the opposite side of the ballroom, stumbled toward a very comely and very married young woman. Ellen winced.
And then ever-so-subtly grinned.
At the base of the walkway, the craft looming just ahead like a huge creature of incomprehensible origin, Ellen stood transfixed as the din of the city faded to a low murmur.
Smatterings of conversation flitted in and out of her ears: eager couples, young men and women anxious to start a new life in the center of modernity, wealthy businessmen looking to pursue their next venture or simply a lively retirement, and quieter sorts who whispered among one another and whose motives for travel remained their own.
Here humans mingled with the other civilized races in a lively concordance. The technologists and the magickers, though never the closest of allies, maintained their mutually cautious but respectful appearances.
Ellen steadied her nerves and picked up her bags as the ticket-taker ushered the line of passengers ahead. Up until now it had been all mental rehearsals of how to best approach academia with her offering (and why did that suddenly seem a far more daunting task?). Those thoughts tapered off as she approached the zeppelin, replaced by a wordless awe.
She took a brief look back at the city before boarding. Some curious gawkers stared back from below the platform; most of the city-dwellers kept their heads about their own business, the airship another landmark in a scene saturated with marvels. An inkling reached the young researcher hopeful that if the Tarantian academics agreed to support her continuing study, she'd likely not see this corner of land again for-how long? The thought, and the uncertainty that accompanied it, hadn't troubled her before. On reflection, none of this had been real before.
No, she reminded herself, reality had been repetitive engagements and banal conversation with the pleasantly unenthused of Society, and with fortune-hunters in gentleman's attire looking to net a quick profit from the latest technological craze. She'd played the role well enough, but now that an alternative presented itself…
Ellen quickly climbed aboard, her eyes fixed forward.