Chapter 6 – Whispers

Well, that was a lot of something, wasn't it! I bet you were all literally on the edge of your seats the entire time! Or...not, because the smarter ones amongst you have probably cottoned on to the fact that I couldn't possibly be sitting here typing this out if I had taken a cannon shell to the face all those years ago. For the rest of you; don't listen to them! You and I both know that that was a buttock-clenching situation where death could have come at any moment, and nobody's going to ruin that for us! Nobody! On an unrelated note, please stop eating your toenails.

For those of you who don't look upon your feet as a source of nutrition: remember when I said that assaulting a Magitek tank on foot is a really, really bad idea? I stand by that comment. Okay, so I may still be alive despite numerous encounters with such weapon systems, but that's only because I'm really, really lucky. You think the Golems are bad? They're the babies of the Magitek line: the more advanced variants incorporate delightful tricks like micro-rocket pods, chainguns, magic projectors, chemical weaponry and (no, I'm not making this up) a subwoofer that can blast the skin clean off your bones and bring a skyscraper crashing to its metaphorical knees. Let's face it; if my young, wet-behind-the-ears self had actually encountered those Titans in Narshe, my last words probably would have been along the lines of 'By gum, Locke, those tanks are a bit lar-!'.

Unfortunately, some idiots just can't let a bad idea lie. Apparently, there's a rumour flying around that Tzenia are in the process of building an even bigger Magitek tank with extra lasers, a fission bomb launcher, and an all-leather interior. The really stupid thing about this is that this wouldn't be the first time; the original was captured by Albrenk separatists, and had it not been for the efforts of a certain treasure hunter (and his dashing Sentinel sidekick) most of Tzen would've vanished underneath a colossal fireball of atomic fury. I suppose that it's possible that the damn fools will install some sort of abort code this time, but that's probably wishful thinking on my part.

For now, however, I can quite happily file all such dangers under 'not my bloody problem, chief' because Terra, my fiancée, and I are all packed and ready to get moving towards Mobliz! It may be a couple of weeks to Midwinters', but personally I can't wait for the opportunity to put my feet up, enjoy a nice winter warmer, and watch stir-crazy children fight to the death for my amusement. It'll be paradise; just you see!

For now, however, let's get back to the desert.

While Terra and I had somehow managed to survive our little encounter, it was clear that both of us had been battered and beaten well beyond the limits of our endurance. As my adrenaline slowly ebbed, I could feel a dull, insistent ache settle into every muscle in my body, accompanied by countless little stabbing pains from where I had been showered by red-hot sand and shrapnel. My speared hand, too, burned with a raw agony that spiked every time I so much as twitched, but until I was able to muster up the magic necessary to deal with it I had no choice but to live with the pain.

Terra looked no better. While she had managed to avoid being similarly impaled, she sported scrapes and bruises that were easily the equal of my own. Worse, her face and hair were caked in dried, matted blood from the nasty gash across her forehead, and she walked with the unfocused eyes and unsteady gait of the mildly concussed.

"How're you feeling, Tee?" I said, eventually.

"'m getting a splitting headache," she said, quietly, "'feels like someone's using my head as a drum..."

"You...we should probably just rest for now," I replied, and sagged wearily to my knees, "I'm sure Edgar'll come looking for us shortly."

"You think?" Terra looked around dubiously at the blackened wasteland, "If I were him, I'd've written us off after an explosion like that..."

"He'll come looking," I said confidently, "'Sides, I don't think either of us is up for wandering around in the desert."

"I s'pose," my sister flopped to the ground beside me, "All that walking was making me nauseous, anyway."

"Mmm," I said noncommittally. I began to focus my efforts on my magical reserves, and felt a bit of life return to my bruised body as my supplies slowly started to replenish themselves. Another ten, maybe fifteen minutes of really solid concentration, and I'd probably be in a position to get this damn stick out of my hand...

"Um, Firma?" Terra's voice intruded on my little patch of calm, "Are...why're you meditating? I didn't think Sentinels-"

"They don't," I said, "It's a trick Cid came up with to help me, uh, get a magical second wind."

"Oh," this was given due consideration, "Who's Cid?"

I thought about this for a moment, "He's the head of the Empire's Magitek research division. Nice guy. Awful dress sense. He helped design those tanks we just blew up."

"He doesn't sound like a 'nice guy'."

"This, coming from the person who wanted her very own chainsaw and hockey mask..." I snorted, "Give the guy some credit; when it comes to magic, he taught us everything we know."

"In retrospect, that may have been a waste of his time," Terra said, with a quirk of her lips.

"Well, no, not since you carelessly went and forgot it all," I said, a little heartened by that comment, "Still, don't worry; I'm here to pick up the pieces."

"Jerk," Terra said wryly, but then the smile faded, "But...Kefka's not going to wait around for me to get any better, is he?"

"He's not known for his patience, no."

"...and you saw what he did in the throne room, didn't you?"

"You mean the enormous, soul-devouring embodiment of evil?" I ran my fingers through my hair, "Tee, I'm going to be having nightmares about that thing for weeks."

"Well, I, um...I," she faltered, and I could see tears forming in the corners of her eyes, "I'm scared, Firma."

"I know, Tee," I said reassuringly, "If it helps, I'm absolutely bloody terrified myself."

"Really?" she sounded surprised.

"Yeah, really," I frowned, "Didn't you hear me screaming like a little girl? I'm pretty sure that was me."

"That was Locke," Terra smiled weakly.

"Oh."

"Besides, you didn't seem scared when you saved Edgar's life," she added, an almost defiant tone in her voice, "You almost seemed eager to confront him."

"That's just because I knew what Kefka was going to do," I said, seriously, "To be honest; I was shaking like a leaf and very nearly threw up all over the royal carpets. I would've done, too," I added, "If I'd had a proper breakfast this morning instead of chewing you out."

"You're...kind of ruining my image of you here, Firma," Terra said worriedly, "I was hoping you could tell me how not to be scared, but you're telling me that you're just as frightened? That's not helpful!"

"Why not?" I shrugged, "Where did you get the idea that you can't be afraid?"

"Huh? But-"

"Look, let me tell you two things my flight instructor once told me," I said, and held up a finger, "One; 'a fearless man is someone who's too stupid or too unimaginative to know they should be afraid'. Two-" a second finger went up, "-'Being brave isn't the same as being fearless. Being brave is being able to face your fears and overcome them'. You were scared of Kefka and that Golem, but you faced them anyway, didn't you?"

"Well, yes..." Terra admitted, eventually, "But I didn't really have a choice, either."

"You could've surrendered, or run away, or frozen up," I pointed out, "In fact, at that point running away probably would've been the smartest, most pragmatic choice."

"You didn't run."

"That's 'cause I'm fearless," I snorted, "Anyway, I'm not worried about you suddenly bolting - in fact, I'm more afraid about you getting in over your head 'cause you're too proud to back down. You're not a coward, Tee, and you don't need to prove it to anyone."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Dead sure," I said, and smiled briskly, "In any case; I think I've recovered enough to deal with my hand. If you'll excuse me..."

There are times when I am really, really thankful to have been gifted with magical abilities. It has to be said, however, that I found a new level of appreciation for magical anaesthetic when removing that blasted piece of shrapnel, a procedure that largely involved wrenching a piece of metal the size and shape of a pencil backwards and forwards until it finally came loose with a rather unpleasant grating noise.

"Done!" I said, dropping the bloodied shard next to my foot, "And I only whimpered a little."

"Done?" Terra craned her neck, "How is it done? I can see right through your hand."

"Give it a few moments," I said patiently. Around the torn flesh, a brilliant blue-gold light flared into existence accompanied by the sharp smell of ozone, and I felt the familiar aching and itching of mending tissue. When the light had faded, all that remained was fresh, baby-pink skin and a few flakes of dried blood that scattered like ash when I shook my hand.

"Impressive," my sister commented, and then gestured at the nasty gash on her forehead, "Can you deal with this?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, and got to work with a flicker of blue-gold light and a brief shower of sparks, "In the long-term, I think it'll be a good idea if I show you how it's done."

"Agreed."

The promised rescue came a short while later in the form of Edgar and a small chocobo convoy. Squinting through the haze, I could just about make out the recumbent form of our resident thief slung roughly across the back of the largest of the four. Based on the litany of curses coming from his general direction, I got the distinct feeling that Edgar hadn't had the chance to do much with the poor man's injuries.

"Thank goodness you're alive!" Edgar said, slowing the chocobos to a halt and providing us with some blessed shade, "After that explosion..."

"Speaking for myself, I wish I weren't," Terra said, a little tartly, "Could you keep it down, please?"

"She has a headache," I added, by way of explanation.

"Ah," Edgar looked around at the vitrified, wreckage-strewn desert, "What actually happened here? When the second tank turned up, I thought we were done for!"

Quickly, Terra pencilled in the events leading to the destruction of the two hulking machines.

"So there's nothing left of either Golem? I was hoping..." Edgar quailed in the face of Terra's sudden glare, "Y-you know what? We're all alive and that's what matters!"

"For a given value of 'alive', anyway. What have you done to Locke?" I indicated the whimpering man with a jerk of my head, "Has he had any fluids? Have you given him any painkillers?"

"What painkillers?"

"Don't we have any-" I stopped, as an uneasy realisation popped into the back of my head, "No, of course we don't. Why? Because I forgot to bloody pack them, that's why!"

"Sorry," Terra looked a little abashed, "I should've reminded you."

I shook my head, "It's not your fault, Tee. It was my responsibility. I'll deal with Locke now and we'll grab some in South Figaro," waving it aside for now, I trudged over to the quietly moaning thief and said, "Hey, chief! How're you feeling?"

"About as good as you look, pal," Locke growled, "How'd you manage to get covered in so much blood?"

"Terra decided to play with high explosives," I snorted, "How's the burn?"

"It doesn't hurt, if that's what yer mean," he replied, "And yeah, I know that that isn't a good thing."

"No," I gently peeled back the gauze to give the dry, leathery skin a closer inspection, "No it isn't. You know that you're one lucky bastard, right?"

"Oh, aye?" Locke retorted, "How?"

"Well, another second or so of that laser and you'd be stealing fire from the gods," I laughed briefly, and then rubbed my hands together, "Still; this shouldn't be beyond my abilities. I've dealt with worse, certainly. Tee?"

"Yes?" Terra looked up, "What?"

"Come over here; I want you to watch this."

"But I-"

"Leave the chocobos to Edgar, Tee," I said firmly, "You want to learn about healing magic? That starts now."

Despite my drained reserves and a constant stream of questions from my pupil, it took only about half an hour to regenerate the dead tissue on Locke's back into brand new, baby-pink skin. By that point, Edgar had managed to prepare a brief brunch for both us and the chocobos, and once fed and watered we set off towards Katastari to catch our train and, hopefully, a brief respite.

The town of Katastari was a dusty, decaying town that was clearly well past its hey-day. As we approached the town I could make out several large, dilapidated buildings in varying states of disrepair. Boarded up doors and broken windows were common, and several buildings sported collapsed roofs and badly damaged supporting pillars covered in vegetation. One of the warehouses we passed had been reduced to a corroding metal framework, with a couple of pieces of corrugated sheet metal clinging on desperately overhead.

While the centre of town was slightly better, it still had the same oppressive feeling of being a dying place. The buildings were all short, squat affairs, being two or three stories tall at the most, and while they had originally been painted in bright, cheery colours, the ravages of time and intense sunlight had bleached and cracked the paintwork. At one point we passed a small, empty playground. Its single, rusty swing was squeaking disconsolately in the slight breeze, and I suddenly felt a chill despite the baking heat.

"Gloomy, isn't it?" Terra remarked, echoing my thoughts, "Where is everyone?"

"That's my father's fault, really," Edgar said, a little sadly, "This used to be the last stop-over for dignitaries and people wanting to visit the castle. Eventually, those people became the town's sole reason for existing, but when the high speed rail link was built, business just dried up."

"Aye, yer dad could be pretty short-sighted sometimes," Locke looked around, and sighed, "I think I was last here about six years ago, and it was pretty bad back then. I'd reckon that everyone who could get out has gotten out by now."

From a couple of streets over there was a yell, and I jumped as a door banged shut. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Terra suddenly sit up and stare into the middle distance, although for the life of me I couldn't make out what she was looking at.

"Can we get to the train, please?" I said, a little nervously, "I don't know about you, but this place gives me the creeps."

"Relax, Firma," Locke's tone was reassuring, but totally at odds with the way he intently studied every door and window, "Katastari's always had a seedy side, but I'm sure we'll be long gone before its dark enough to be dangerous."

"I keep trying to regenerate it," Edgar complained, "It's just..."

"Budget cuts, right?" the thief shook his head, "Won't help now, anyway. Katastari's finished; best you could do now is rehouse everyone and bulldoze the place before it turns into another Zozo. I don't think yer want something like that anywhere near your castle."

"We'll see," Edgar said, rather noncommittally, "It may be dying, but this is still somebody's home. I'd rather not rob them of that if it's at all possible."

I would like to present the above conversation as irrefutable proof that Locke can, on occasion, actually be right about something. While I'm sure it would've been nice for the Katastari to have regained its lost glory, a smart king may have decided to just bite the bullet and scrap the town. Unfortunately, what we have now is basically a ghettoised sprawl, filled with refugees, gangs, and unfortunate war-torn families for whom we still haven't found housing. Thanks to the deprivation, crime, and general feeling of abandonment by the Figaran government (who, in all fairness, are having plenty of issues of their own) the entire bloody place is a powder keg, and to be quite frank everyone is just holding their breath and waiting for that one event that is going to reduce the entire place to a flaming ruin.

Katastari's train station was situated close enough to the town to be associated with it, but not so close that it was necessary to actually interact with anything or anyone that may be shambling around the crumbling town centre. Compared to the town, the train station was a gleaming, modern affair built from steel and glass, and attached to it was a large complex that appeared to contain a number of high-end shops and restaurants, as well as a small, but rather posh-looking hotel.

"This is new," Locke said, stepping into the cool shade with a rather sour expression on his face, "I'm guessin' that all the people wanting to get to Figaro Castle can cool their heels here while they wait for the shuttle, right? No need to go get their hands dirty out there in shabby old Katastari!"

"I think I agree with them," I said eventually.

"Hah," he snorted derisively, "At least Katastari used to have some history and culture! What's this place got?"

"It has a swimming pool," Terra said absently, looking at the store directory, "And a registered acupuncturist. I'm sorry, Locke," she added, and patted him gently on the shoulder, "But Katastari definitely had a certain...atmosphere to it."

I looked up sharply at the word 'atmosphere', and caught the gaze of my sister. Almost imperceptibly, she nodded, and I felt another chill run up and down my spine.

"Say, Tee..." I said, casting my gaze desperately over the store directory, "They've got a sweet shop here; h-how'd you like to get some pralines before we set off?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea," she said, after a moment's pause, "Perhaps, while we are buying said pralines, you could also share with me a long and extremely detailed account of some inordinately boring event from our childhood!"

There was a long, awkward pause, and I glared incredulously at her over Locke's shoulder. Fortunately, he seemed to be far too wrapped up in his dislike of the shiny, new establishment to analyse Terra's attempt at subtlety.

"Yeah, good idea," he said, absently, and rummaged around in his wallet for a small blue note, "Grab me some travel sweets while you're at it, could you? I feel a bit of nausea comin' on."

"Sure," I shrugged, and motioned Terra quickly off to one side, "Back in a tick!"

The shops in the complex were situated in a small, circular plaza with a rather pretty little fountain in the middle. I looked over my shoulder to make certain that Locke wasn't skulking after us, and then quickly dragged my sister out of sight.

"Okay, Tee, what's up?" I asked urgently, "Why the, uh, attempt at subterfuge?"

"I'm not trying to deceive anyone, Firma," Terra said, honestly, "I just...every time those two hear or see anything about magic it seems to take them five minutes to screw their heads back on. I'm far too hot and sweaty to deal with that."

"Fair enough," I grinned, "I'm guessing-"

"I sensed magic in Katastari, Firma," Terra plunged on, confirming my suspicions, "It wasn't strong, and I'm sure it wasn't directed at us, but it was definitely there."

"Actual magic? Not Magitek?"

"I-I'm not sure," Terra admitted, "It wasn't Kefka, though."

"No, you would've said something earlier if it was..." I shrugged, "Well, it's interesting, but I'm afraid I'm not really sure what to make of it at the moment, Tee. Can you describe it in any more detail?"

"Not really," she said, spreading her hands helplessly, "To be honest, I thought I was hearing things at first. You were drowning everything out..."

"Sorry," I said, a little tartly, "I'll try to exist less in the future."

"That might be a good idea," Terra replied blandly, "But anyway, what do we do about this? Do we tell Locke and Edgar?"

"Yeah, we do," I said firmly, "If we want them to trust us, we need to be as open and honest as possible. As for what we do about it? Well, if you hear it again let me know, okay?"

"Okay," Terra said, a little dubiously, "But-"

"Priorities, Tee," I pointed out, "We're being chased by a madman who can turn shadows into murderous demons and his magical ninja sidekick. We'll worry about your whispers when they become a threat to world peace, okay?"

"Fine," she sighed, "If that happens, do I get to tell you that I told you so?"

"If you must. Can we go and do what we said we were going to do now? I'd imagine keeping a king waiting is probably a breach of etiquette."

"Sure!" Terra's eyes suddenly lit up, presumably at the thought of sweet, sweet praline goodness, "Hold on; really? A magical ninja?"

"Yeah," I shrugged, "That's my best guess, anyway."

"But...she didn't look that hard."

"'Kicked your arse."

"Oh."

We found Edgar and Locke chatting back at the entrance to the station, having emerged from the sweet shop with a small fortune's worth of pralines that, at her current rate of consumption, would probably last Terra all of fifteen minutes. Although Locke seemed to be rather unconcerned about our short expedition, Edgar's expression was one of extreme impatience, and he greeted us with a rather curt 'about time!'.

"Here's your travel sweets," I said, handing Locke a small paper bag, "And your change."

"Cheers pal," he said, popping one in his mouth and pocketing the coins, "His Majesty here'd like us to be on our way now."

"We're running a little late, yes," Edgar said, "I've had our equipment and the chocobos loaded onto the train, so we're ready to go just as soon as you've checked your purchases."

"No need to be snippy," Terra admonished him, "Besides, you'll thank me if we ever need to interrogate a diabetic with a severe nut allergy."

Based on Edgar's expression, I gathered that he had never dealt with anyone quite like Terra on a sugar high. For a moment it looked like he was about to say something, but then he turned away with a faint growl of frustration and stalked off towards the train platforms. Locke shot my sister a quick grin, and then indicated that we should follow after the rapidly receding royal.

"I have to admit, I reckon that's the first time I've ever Edgar speechless," Locke laughed, "Good work, Terra!"

"Hah," I snorted, "Like she'd ever waste one of her precious sweeties on something like an interrogation."

"Who said anything about wasting?" Terra looked slightly confused, "All I need to do is pry open his mouth before rigor mortis sets in. It may need a bit of washing afterwards, though..."

"Is she often like this?" Locke shot me a sideways glance.

"...actually, I'd probably have to sterilise it somehow..."

"Only when she can feed her praline addiction," I shrugged, "The sugar always goes straight to her head."

"...maybe an atomic pile-hey!" my sister objected, "I'm not addicted! I can give these up any time I like!" there was a 'crunch' as another praline met a grisly end, "I just...don't feel like it right now!"

"Of course not."

"It's true!"

"Can I have one?"

Terra laughed shortly in response, and strode off quickly in search of Edgar. For what felt like the umpteenth time that day, I exchanged a long, wearying glance with my Kohlinglese mate.

"Is she...going to be okay?" Locke asked, and then shook his head, "Actually, are we going to be okay?"

"She'll be fine when she crashes out," I said, and decided to tell Locke what Terra had told me, "There is something odd, though. Terra sensed someone using magic back in Katastari."

"Oh, is that what she was tellin' you when you were off buying sweeties?" he said, archly, "I thought something was up."

"However did you guess?" I shook my head, "I'm just telling you, anyway. It was weak, but it shouldn't have been there in the first place."

"Hmm," Locke's expression had suddenly turned serious, "I'll get in contact with a friend of mine when we hit South Figaro. She'll be able to find out if there's anything strange going on 'round Katastari."

"Thanks," I said, "Tell her to look out for magical ninjas. We know that MK6 wasn't at Figaro Castle, so..."

"You reckon-"

"It's just a theory," I said quickly, "I'm not basing it on anything, but I can't really think of a happy alternative."

"Magitek equipment?" Locke suggested.

"How is that a happy alternative?"

"'Could be worse," he added, "Maybe there's an unregistered magic user out there, just biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strik-"

"Save the horror stories for Hallows Eve, mate," I said pointedly, "The last thing we need is more bloody Magitek Knights."

"Aye," he agreed, "Do you want me to tell Edgar?"

"Be my guest. Now, which one of these is our train?"

In all fairness, it was a bit of a rhetorical question. While Katastari train station had a grand, sweeping terminus, the effect was a little offset by the fact that there were only three trains in the station. Two of them seemed to be fairly standard commuter affairs, like the one that Locke and I had hurriedly disembarked en route to Figaro Castle. The third, however, was a rather impressive red-and-green affair with golden highlights that gleamed in the sun. As we walked briskly towards the train I saw, with a faintly sinking heart, that the crest of Figaro was emblazoned on every single carriage, as well as on the front of the engine currently facing us.

"Well, I always wanted to travel in style before I died," I remarked.

"Oh, aye?"

"Well, you do realise that we are going to be marked for death the instant someone sees us getting off this thing, right? That is, of course, assuming that our good friends in Imperial Intelligence let us get that far and don't just blow the tracks out from under the train."

"Edgar's normally a wee bit more subtle than this," Locke agreed, "When he said he had a train waiting, I didn't realise he meant his own personal train."

"Reckon they're onboard?"

"Probably," Locke exhaled noisily, "Let's go find out what his grand plan is, shall we?"

The interior of Edgar's very own royal death-trap was...actually reasonably stylish, I decided. While it bore a certain resemblance to the first-class carriage of our previous trip, it seemed rather more upmarket in a way that eluded me. It was, I decided, the little touches; the carpeting seemed ever so slightly thicker, and the ever-popular wood panelling just looked like it had been hewn from some vanishingly rare species of tree that only existed at the tops of exceedingly tall mountains.

"Luxurious," I said, settling down in one of the seats with a certain amount of relief, "He wasn't joking when he said it was good to be the king, was he."

"Enjoy it while you can, pal. It ain't gonna last much longer," Locke said darkly, "I think His Majesty and I had better have a little talk about blendin' in with the crowd. I think he may've missed the point."

"Indeed," I looked around at the empty carriage, "Where d'ya think they are, anyway?"

"Beats me," Locke said, and hauled me, protesting, to my feet, "Why don't we go find 'em before you get too comfortable, eh?"

As it happened, Edgar was in the very next carriage. By a rather happy coincidence, this carriage appeared to be the place where royalty went to get drunk, as the first thing that caught my eye were the rows and rows of expensive liquors and decades-old spirits secured neatly in a large, glass-fronted mahogany cabinet. In my mind, I could hear the tiny voices of a thousand different alcohols begging to be sampled, and as I watched I swore some of it even began crawling up the sides of the bottles in anticipation of sweet release.

"Thirsty, Firma?" the king said, in tones of wry amusement, "Help yourself. Locke, could you tell the driver that we're ready to depart?"

For a moment I hesitated, but after some deliberation took down a small glass and grabbed the first interesting liquor that came to hand. It was an amber coloured liquid with name I couldn't even pronounce, but possessed a promising aroma of delicate spices, delivered with the force of a good solid kick in the teeth. This important task accomplished, I sat down beside the king, who appeared to be frowning over a faintly familiar notepad while taking frequent sips from a large wine glass balanced precariously on a nearby table.

"Tell me," he said eventually, "Does your sister normally annotate whatever she's reading?"

"I know she has a pathological aversion to bookmarks," I said evenly, "Every book I've ever lent her has come back a bloody dog-eared mess. Why, what's she done to your stuff?"

"She's...improved it," Edgar bit out, and flipped the notepad over so that I could see. True to his word, the carefully drawn diagrams were covered in a mess of scribbles, redesigns, and phrases like 'rotate interference grid' or 'second bellows connect here' in Terra's neat, copperplate handwriting.

"These are improvements, are they?"

"She seems to thinks so," the king flipped another page over; "I mean, look at this! She's completely crossed out the power source to my noise blaster and just written 'needs Thaumium'! What in the world is Thaumium?"

"No idea, but it sounds jolly exciting," I shrugged, "Have you asked her?"

"By the time I'd seen this stuff, she'd already gone to get some sleep," Edgar replied, relenting slightly, "But still; how does she know any of this? If it's a joke, I find it in incredibly bad taste!"

"I know she went through your library like a whirlwind," I said, "Maybe she found some of it there?"

"I'd doubt it," Edgar said, looking mournfully at his improved drawings.

"Well, Terra sometimes isn't quite tuned into Radio Earth, Edgar," I shrugged, "Anyway, that's a matter between you and her, wouldn't you say?"

The silence that followed was broken by the insistent, whistling toot of the train's horn. With a surprising turn of speed, the train accelerated out of the station and into the rolling, verdant hills of central Figaro. On both sides, the countryside was a blur of forests, fields, and rivers, and a sudden, sharp pang I realised how similar this was to Wareydon, as well as how much I missed it.

Once again there was the faint 'click' of a door, and Locke returned, carrying, for reasons that completely eluded me, a small, silvery toaster and a loaf of pre-sliced bread.

"Um...what's with the toaster?" I asked, reasonably.

"What?" Edgar stirred again, "Oh, thank you, Locke. A little while ago, I realised that this train was an ideal place for enemy intelligence agencies to place...devices of a clandestine nature."

"He means bugs," Locke translated.

"Anyway, this device-" with this, Edgar indicated the aforementioned toaster, "-is quite possibly one of my finest pieces of work. It should be able to suppress any 'bugs' that might be present in this carriage. Nobody will be able to listen in to what we're saying."

"But it looks like a toaster!" I protested.

"It was a toaster," Edgar said patiently, "That doesn't mean it can't also be used as a perfectly functional signal jammer."

For a long, long while I considered this particular comment from all possible angles, but eventually decided that a radio-jamming toaster was very, very far down the list of the most absurd things I had encountered in recent history. That said, I still had one major point of curiosity.

"And the bread?"

"The only snag in an otherwise perfect design," Edgar said, rather smugly, "It only actually works if it's toasting something. Luckily-" he rallied, "-I realised that this allows us to accurately control the length of the information blackout via the browning knob!"

"But..." I scratched my head, "If you removed that, surely your information blackout would last forever, right?"

The king looked a little puzzled, "Yes, but then my toast would burn."

"Are you trying to mess with my head?" I asked incredulously, "Because quite frankly, you're succeeding! Why is this thing even necessary, anyway?"

Edgar looked at Locke, who obligingly inserted two slices of wholemeal into the toaster and pushed them down. Apparently satisfied with this state of affairs, the king steeped his fingers and leaned forwards across the table.

"I'll be honest with you, Firma," he said seriously, "Locke and I want to know a bit more about you and your sister. We've both read whatever information Ester-"

"-the incompetent bastard-" Locke cut in.

"-managed to glean about you, but...it's not enough," Edgar took a deep breath, "Today, I saw two teenagers successfully destroy a pair of weapons systems that are quite frankly the terror of my army. Not only that, but you also managed to save my life when all my carefully-planned defences did nothing to stop Kefka's insanity."

"And...?" I leaned back and took a sip of my drink.

"It feels like I'm intruding on another world, Firma, and I don't much care for it. This is all new to us, and if we're going to need your help to have any real chance of understanding it."

The toaster popped up with a 'ching', sending two pieces of well-done bread high into the air. Locke carefully moved them to one side and reloaded the toaster, nodding at me when it was apparently safe to continue.

"Where do I start?" I asked honestly, "When I was a kid, I remember thinking it was really, really odd that everyone else couldn't use magic. I mean, it's part of who I am, to the point where I literally can't live without it!"

"Do you have any knowledge of how you came to possess this power?" Edgar said, although he didn't seem all that hopeful.

"No," I shook my head, "As far as I know, I've always had it. 'Never knew my parents, either, so I couldn't tell you if it was genetic or anything."

"No other family members on file, either," Edgar mused, "Still, Branford is a fairly common surname in the Empire, so I suppose we can't rule it out entirely."

"'S a good idea," Locke snorted, "Or it would be if Firma an' his sister didn't share that surname with every third person in the Imperial army. It's a name given to orphans, Yer Majesty."

"Could be worse," I protested, "We could've been Clarksons or Weavers or...or..."

"I'm not sayin' it's a bad name, pal," Locke placated me, "It's just really common, is all."

"Regardless," Edgar continued, "It seems a little suspicious that the only two documented magic users in a thousand years should be orphans found by the Empire. What information we have is extremely light on detail about the first two years of your lives."

"You could say that about most people's files," I pointed out, "I know that we're 'special' and all that, but maybe we didn't exhibit much magical potential at that age. Nobody's going to go back and invent an exciting back story just for our sakes, you know."

"It is a mystery, though," he said, "Doubly so, considering that the discovery of Magitek appears to coincide with the first mention of Mage Knights. The first Magitek Knights didn't appear until almost a year later."

"Okay, so..."

"Don't you find it interesting that the Empire specifically differentiates between Mage Knights and Magitek Knights?" Edgar raised his eyebrows and leaned in, "If you look at the newspapers around the time, Kefka is touted as the first example of a human with magical abilities. If no human normally possesses these powers, then-"

"Edgar!" Locke snapped.

"No, it's okay," I smiled wryly, "It's nothing I haven't heard before. We even have a pool going about it back in Wareydon."

"What, about whether yer human or not?"

"Sure," I said, "I mean, Edgar's right; I've never met anyone else who could cast magic without going through this infusion process, so who knows where Terra and I come from? Maybe we're extraterrestrials, or escaped experiments, or maybe we were even exposed to some kind of magical radiation in utero! It's all very exciting, don't you think?"

"What's yer opinion, then?"

"I don't think it matters," I said simply, "Go ask Terra if you want to get someone snarled up in an existential quandary."

"I understand," Edgar said, after a short silence, "In any case, I'm fairly sure that there's a link between you and your sister, that is to say the Mage Knights, and Magitek technology. Beyond the obvious, that is."

"Beyond magic?" I frowned, and noticed that Locke's had suddenly become poker-faced, "What do you mean?"

Edgar sat back, interlacing his fingers on his chest, "I'm curious, Firma; how much do you know about the recent events in Narshe? Do you know why Terra and her handlers were sent there?"

"Is this one of those questions where you already know the answer, or are you just fishing for information?" I asked curiously, "Because if it's the latter; no, I don't know."

"Well, it's certainly a strange move by the Empire," Edgar said bluntly, "Three Titans are certainly a force to be reckoned with, but without a supply chain they'd eventually be whittled down and destroyed. Considering how much a Titan costs, that's not the sort of loss that any sane man would undertake lightly."

"You're forgetting Kefka, though," I said, "Remember; he buried a Golem under a sand dune just in case we happened to pass by!"

"The order to assault Narshe didn't come from Kefka, pal," Locke cut in, "It came from the very top."

"Oh, yes?" I raised my eyebrows, "And when did you find this one out?"

"Yesterday," he replied, a little smugly, "While you were coolin' your heels, some of us were doin' a bit of sleuthin', y'know."

"Okay, don't labour it," I said wearily, "I'm not sure that Gestahl is all that connected with reality either, y'know. Power does that to people."

"Indeed," Edgar gave me a longer look than was strictly necessary, "Still, based on the order that Locke obtained, I think Gestahl was more worried than insane. He was worried enough, certainly, to go to the effort of sending three enormous tanks to a small mining town on the other side of the planet."

"So what did they unearth in Narshe, then?" I caught Locke's expression, and added, "What? It's what miners do! You dig too greedily, or too deep, and bam, suddenly your mineshaft is filled with tentacles or giant spiders or you've woken up some ancient, sleeping demon. Quite frankly I'm amazed people're willing to take the risk."

"Whatever they found, it scared Gestahl," Edgar said, ignoring my sudden outburst, "Maybe rightfully so, as well. My theory is that he sent those Titans because he thought that maybe they had the firepower to destroy whatever it was that the Narshians had found."

"Keep in mind, we still haven't worked out what happened to those Titans," Locke pointed out.

"So, whatever's down there, it's tough," I raised my eyebrows and looked pointedly at Edgar, "What is it?"

"We...aren't entirely sure," Edgar confessed, "The order referred to it as an 'Esper', which is absurd. I suspect that it's some kind of codeword for a piece of Great War technology that could swing the balance of power back in our favour. Obviously, Gestahl would want to destroy it rather than see it fall into Figaran hands."

"Okay. Um, out of curiosity, why is it being an Esper absurd? What is an Esper, exactly?"

Edgar and Locke both looked surprised at that, "Yer don't know what an Esper is, Firma?" Locke asked, "You were never taught about 'em in history or anything?"

"I didn't exactly have a classical education," I said irritably, "We didn't learn much about history, ancient or otherwise."

Locke looked faintly disgusted, but continued, "Well, me ma always used to say that Espers were great, magnificent creatures that existed back before the Great War, when the world was filled with magic."

"A magical time of fancy and whimsy?" I snorted, "Really?"

"Well, maybe the world was like that, pal."

"You'll have to forgive me if I don't immediately bow before the Bedtime Stories of Mrs. Cole, Locke, but that sounds like just about every fantasy novel ever written."

Edgar coughed, "Regardless of where Locke's mother obtained her information, it is commonly said that there is a grain of truth to every legend. What's more, I do have a couple of ancient documents in my possession that suggest that such beasts did exist at some point, although it seems that they perished during the Great War."

"Did they talk?"

"By all accounts, they were supposed to be extremely intelligent. Why?"

"You remember that voice I heard in the mines, don't you Locke? Well, you thought I was having a fit, but-"

"Aye, I remember," Locke replied shortly, clearly offended by my opinion of his mother stories, "It got a wee bit exciting after that, though."

"It did," I agreed, "Especially with all those moogles mysteriously springing to our defence. There is definitely something powerful down there, Edgar, but I don't think it's a piece of military hardware that someone's dug up," I took a deep breath, "It's sentient."

"You mean-"

"When Gestahl was referring to an 'Esper', he wasn't using it as a codeword. I reckon that that thing down there is quite possibly straight out of Mama Cole's stories."

"But that would mean that it's been down there almost a thousand years!" Edgar exclaimed, "How could it survive? What would it eat?"

"Maybe it hibernated," Locke suggested, "Think about it, Edgar. If it were an Esper, then it'd be the greatest archaeological find of the century! It might even-"

"Let's...not get ahead of ourselves," Edgar said, calming himself down with a visible effort, "We need to get more information from Narshe about this entity before we know how to proceed, and that may take a little while."

"I'll get on it," Locke promised, "I'll have my sources send anything they discover on to our destination."

"Thank you, Locke," Edgar said, and turned to look at me, "Firma, when the voice spoke to you, did it seem...friendly?"

"More surprised, I'd say," I said, recalling the memory, "And then it rifled through my brain trying to work out who I was. That hurt."

"And-"

"Well, it didn't really want me to leave, but I'm not sure you could call that friendly, per se," I shrugged, "To be honest, I'm not sure."

"Would you be prepared to try and make contact again?"

"I'd have to think about it," I said, "And you'd have to get permission from the Father Superior. Sorry, Edgar, but impartiality is impartiality."

"You haven't been particularly impartial so far," Locke said, snidely.

"I've been defending myself and others," I replied tartly, "This is a direct request from a ruling sovereign on a non-medical matter. There're rules, y'know."

"What about Terra?" Edgar asked quickly.

"If you phrased it right, she'd probably leap at the chance to play hero," I said, warily, "But still, she's currently a signed up Sentinel and the same rules apply."

"Maybe not."

"Okay, Edgar, I'll be blunt," I said, coming to my feet, "Don't get me wrong, I know that I owe you for everything that you've done, for saving Terra's life, and for not handing us over to the Empire. That doesn't mean that I'm going to stand by and idly let you manipulate her into doing your dirty work for you. You can suggest it to her, sure, but she's going to have to make up her own mind, okay?"

"Of course, Firma," Edgar said, also standing up, "Do you really think that I'm no better than the Empire?"

"I'd say that you'd be a pretty poor king if you weren't prepared to play fast and loose if your kingdom was in danger. C'mon, you're on your way to a bloody terrorist hideout, so don't tell me you're completely above board!"

"Hang on a sec!" Locke snapped, "The Returners aren't terrorists! We're freedom fighters!"

"Semantic nonsense!"

"There's a huge difference!"

"And I'm sure that it's a huge comfort to all the people who've been blown to bits by your little freedom bombs, mate! You're not the one who had to bloody well clean up the mess afterwards, were you?" I took a long, deep breath, "Okay, that was too far. You didn't deserve that, and I'm sorry; it's...well, you know it's been a pretty brutal couple of weeks."

"Yeah," Locke said grudgingly, and briefly shook my hand, "It's okay, pal."

"Anyway," I said, "My original point still stands. Terra has to draw her own conclusions."

"I understand your position, Firma," Edgar said, with a certain amount of relief, "And I understand why you might have a rather...twisted view of the ruling class, considering what the Empire's done to you and your sister. Rest assured, I have no intention of telling her anything but the truth."

"Spoken like a true politician, but I'll take what I can get."

"The fact remains, Firma," Edgar continued seriously, "That this entity in Narshe, be it an Esper or otherwise, may hold the key to defeating the Empire's Magitek weaponry. Considering the likelihood that the Empire is keeping secrets about you and your sister, it is entirely possible that this Esper may reveal elements about yourself that you would prefer left buried. Are you up to that, Firma? Is your sister?"

"At the moment..." I paused, and decided to be frank with them, "I'm not sure."