Chapter 31 – The 15th day of August, 299 years after Aegon's Conquest

The two ambassadors met in the evening twilight, in the shadow of the Sealord's palace.

Kevin Rudd greeted his American counterpart. With some hesitation, they left their guards behind at the gates, while the First Sword and his men escorted them inside. It was another foggy night, and the palace seemed curiously deserted. Normally servants would be scurrying about, but now they saw no one else save their escort. Even the air seemed unusually still, swallowing sounds with unreasonable quickness. Over the gates the new electric lights glowed, unblinking, but even these struggled to penetrate the fog. Kevin wondered if this atmosphere was in some way deliberate. Jaerillos promised us much. He promised us a show tonight we would not soon forget.

They swept around a still pool and were eventually led into a cottage near the rear of the palace, beside the expansive gardens where some of the last remaining trees in the lagoon still grew. Here, at least, there was some noise, but it was only the distant drone of one of the new generators, sounding almost rude in the quiet evening air. Qarro Volentin knocked on the door, gave them a gentle bow, and he and his men retreated in turn. For some moments the two ambassadors stood there, quite alone, with only the fog for company. Kevin was just wondering if their host had cancelled on them due to some calamity when the door slowly swung open. Another silver haired servant, who couldn't have been older then ten, bowed to them deeply and led them inside.

Jaerillos Antaryon sat on a comfortable armchair, its purple cushions matching his ornate robes. On his fingers jewelled rings glinted in the lamplight. Three of them had been set up around the room, the cables resting on brackets newly hammered into the walls. The room was scattered with more gifts from the modern world. The Sealord's nephew seemed to be hoarding them like treasures raised from a sunken ship. In the corner a bar fridge hummed quietly. Kevin Rudd did not let his smile flicker, but immediately found himself wondering which devices might be bugged, and who put them there. He just hoped they belonged to a friendly party. Though it was a humble building, the walls were still decorated with plenty of older treasures. These were mostly weapons. Axes, swords and morningstars rested in their own brackets by the dozen.

Seated on a bench behind the magister were two more men. Their faces were hidden by masks. One had the pale skin and violet eyes that marked out his Valyrian ancestry. The other had brown eyes, and chestnut skin. He might have been Rhoynish. For the moment they were silent. Jaerillos however, greeted them warmly.

"Good evening, ambassadors. I am sorry our meeting tonight does not occur with more formality. I thought it best we talk alone, away from prying eyes."

Kevin had become quite fluent at High Valyrian by now, and could understand maybe eight words in ten. Arthur, his American counterpart, had been slower at progressing in the language. "Thank you for receiving us" Kevin replied.

"I hear honest King Stannis has reached Casterly Rock?"

"Yes, just yesterday."

"Good, then these cowardly lion's will soon be smoked out of their den." Jaerillos gave a broad smile. "With good fortune, the same gift will soon be given to the Great Masters of the Triarchy and Volantis."

"Perhaps so" Kevin replied. His eyes drifted beyond Jaerillos to the two men seated behind him. "We are most interested in what you have to show."

Jaerillos nodded. They exchanged some more pleasantries, before he introduced his two companions. "This is Viron" he said, gesturing to the one on the left with Valyrian features. "And this is Galamon" he said of the one with darker skin. "They are mages, among our most skilled in the ancient arts. Viron can summon fire, while Galamon is a water mage" he explained, almost casually.

The ambassadors exchanged a glance. "That is impressive, if true, Magister" Kevin replied cautiously.

Jaerillos seemed to consider them a moment. "Many have been suspicious of you, in Braavos and across the known world, as one is always suspicious of strangers, but you have shared much with us". He started to tick various innovations off his fingers. "The palace is now lit with your electric torches. Our meat and food is preserved in your ice boxes. We can talk with our friends and subjects in other towns and cities, even hundreds of miles away, as if we still sit at the same table. We even have iron dragons that fly faster than those of flesh and blood. You are curing the sick, even greyscale. Every mother in Braavos now wishes to birth their child in your houses of healing."

Kevin nodded, getting the general gist. "I thank you for your praise. Maybe we sound arrogant, but we do wish to help your people. We see Braavos and we see ourselves, as we lived five hundred years ago, or more. We see a thriving city, a free city, in a sea of oppression and tyranny. We wish to help, and trade, and learn more about this world, if possible."

Jaerillos nodded in turn. "So far, I see no ill intentions on your part. What have you asked for in return for your generosity? Very little. You have accepted gifts from the Sealord's menagerie. We bring you beasts, even plants and flowers, from near and far. We provide you with books and maps, but already, it seems, you know more about our wider world then we do" Jaerillos paused a moment, frowning. They had indeed, already mapped Planetos from pole to pole from orbit, but had so far refused to share the resulting maps with anyone else.

Despite this minor point of contention, Jaerillos went on. "Still, that you do not share all you know, I cannot blame you for this. Trust takes time, yet even with what you have provided already, Braavos has gained a great deal. With more of your aid we can, I think, shortly achieve what we have always dreamed of." He leaned forward, the chair creaking under his considerable girth. "To spread our gifts across all of Essos. To free the slaves from their suffering. By the millions, the tens of millions. To lay low the great masters who still cling to the glories of the old empire."

He sat back, looking satisfied. The ambassadors voiced their agreement. Jaerillos glanced at the 'mages' again, as still as statues. "But first, there is more you should see. Perhaps something not even a flying man has seen before." He made a small gesture with his hand.

Finally, the men showed signs of life. The 'firemage', Viron, pulled a small dagger from his sleeve. For a moment Kevin tensed, but the mage did not move to attack anyone. On a low table before him had been lit a small candle. He held a hand over the flame. Beneath, Kevin saw his lips move, but the words were so faint he could not make them out, nor even if they were High Valyrian. After a few moments of this he made a motion with the blade. He made a swift pinprick on the end of his middle finger. Kevin saw a drop of blood fall directly into the candle, while the whispering continued.

The effect was immediate. The visible flame grew at once. From a mere inch it grew until it might have been a foot tall. The ambassadors both flinched as the room was bathed in its light. Shadows flickered on the walls, twisting and turning so rapidly they might have been alive, but all eyes were fixed on the flame. The mage continued his whispering. The flame turned one way, and then the other, as if caught in a high wind. But the air remained perfectly still, and the flame did not snuff out. The mage whirled his fingers around, and the flame did the same. It circled the candle in turn, like the spoke of an invisible wheel. The firemage continued his demonstration, for what might have been a minute more. 'Pieces' of flame even seemed to break off at times, dancing around in the air before them, like a balloon blown up and let loose. Eventually, the display seemed to end, and the candle returned to normal. It flickered there idly, as if with no memory of what it had done. Silently, the two ambassadors looked at each other. Kevin's voice was caught in his throat. That didn't look like a trick.

Viron went still, as if returning to stone again, and the small audience turned their gaze to the 'watermage'. In front of Galamon sat a small bowl of water. Swiftly, he too produced a knife. He pricked his finger in an identical fashion, though the blade seemed to go a little deeper, extracting a slightly more generous sample. Several scarlet drops fell into the clear water. They quickly dissolved, but already the mage was whispering in turn, and moving his hands about.

It took a few seconds, but the ambassadors watched in surprise as the water began to swirl. It was as if it were being stirred, but nothing was visibly touching it. Waves raced around the bowl, threatening to top its sides, but somehow they never did. Kevin Rudd was thinking of magnets, or some other trickery, but no deception seemed evident. The mage reversed the circular motion of his hands. Below the ripples followed suit, as if reflected in a mirror. After another minute or so, the water began to still. The mage ceased his whispering, grabbing a cloth to wrap around his still bleeding finger. The water returned to normal, the simple wooden bowl as ordinary as the candle beside it. There were several long seconds of silence.

"You are impressed, no?" Jaerillos asked, sounding almost nervous.

The ambassadors exchanged another glance. "That…did not seem like a trick" Kevin said slowly.

"No…it did not" Arthur replied.

Kevin could almost feel the gears in his head turning. Somehow, they seemed slow, sluggish, as if the display had rusted away decades of certain knowledge in a few moments.

"I would say we are more than impressed, magister" Arthur said finally. "What you are showing us…I am sorry, but it really should not be possible." He looked over at Kevin again. "If there is truly no rational explanation…"

"Forgive me ambassador, but I am wondering" Jaerillos replied. "Surely the great flying men have mages of their own, capable of much greater feats?"

"Well…perhaps not" Kevin replied. "Our scientists can do a great many things, but everything they do operates on uh…sound physical principles. There are laws. Laws of physics and chemistry. The periodic table and gravity and so on…a complex system that all ties together." Kevin was leaning forward in his seat now, observing the silent mages carefully. "Please, tell us, how are you able to do that?" he asked as politely as he could, indicating the candle and the bowl. "To manipulate them without touching it?"

The mages remained silent, but Jaerillos shrugged his mighty shoulders. "They do it as all magic is performed. With whispered words, patience, prayer and sacrifice."

Kevin Rudd frowned. "The laws of physics should not be mutable. Ordinary men cannot change them, no matter how earnest the prayer or sacrifice."

Beside him, Arthur was nodding, but he seemed deep in thought. "If they are mutable, it will only be by God, I think."

"Well of course" Jaerillos replied. "Who else does one pray to? Sacrifice to? If not the gods." He fixed them with an uncomfortable sort of stare. "Do your gods never answer your prayers? Dismiss all that you offer as sacrifice?"

The ambassadors exchanged another glance. "Perhaps sometimes, magister" Arthur answered. "But it is hard to prove such." He looked again at the mages. "I think our scientists will have to study this phenomenon for themselves. A little…peer review, wouldn't hurt, to make sure we are not just hallucinating, or misunderstanding somehow."

"Of course" Jaerillos said graciously. "I can arrange for further demonstrations. Perhaps, in time, we can even share knowledge of how this is done."

Arthur nodded again, still looking at the two men. "Of course, for this knowledge we would offer a great deal. But both of you…you drew blood, pricked your fingers" Arthur observed. "Why? This is a necessary…sacrifice?"

Jaerillos nodded. "Of course. All sorcery is rooted in sacrifice. Whether it be blood, or flesh, or…a life" he said. His tone had gone a little darker. "Perhaps that is why such forces appear to have faded in the world. The greatest magics are found in the greatest cruelties. The freehold of old was based on a foundation of such. The pain and suffering of millions. The same is true of all empires, I suppose, but those rooted in the deepest sorcery inflict the greatest pain. Do you know the tale of Nissa Nissa?"

The ambassadors shook their heads.

"Nissa Nissa was the wife of Hyrkoon the Hero, also known as Azor Ahai, Neferion or Yin Tar. I think the Westerosi call him Eldric Shadowchaser. It is a legend so old it predates all of history" Jaerillos explained. "Thousands of years ago, the world was covered in a darkness that lasted a generation. Monsters rose from the deep, and threatened to overwhelm the lands. In this hour, Hyrkoon rose. He needed to forge a hero's sword, so he laboured, hammering away for thirty days and thirty nights. However, when he went to temper the sword in the pool of a temple, the sword broke,

Hyrkoon was not the sort to give up easy, so he laboured again, this time for fifty days. He tried to temper the sword through the heart of a lion, but still the steel broke. The darkness was closing in now, so Hyrkoon could not despair. He laboured once more, for a hundred days. This time it was with a heavy heart, for he knew what he must do. When the sword was done, he called his wife. Nissa Nissa, come to me and bare your breast. A dutiful wife, she did as he asked, and he drove the blade into her heart. This time, the sword did not break. Nissa Nissa died of course, but her soul was imparted into the blade. Then, it became Lightbringer, the red sword of heroes. They say that the sword was always warm to the touch after that, but who knows? What seems more likely, is that it was not just a magic sword, it was merely the first of many."

Looking idly around the room, Jaerillos stood up and headed to the far wall. Just above head height hung a blade of oddly dark steel, bejewelled with enough rubies and sapphires to make a lord's ransom. Kevin Rudd has seen enough Valyrian steel now to recognise it. The weapons were not so rare in Essos. There were said to be only two hundred or so in all of Westeros, but most of the Free Cities could exceed that total alone.

Jaerillos pulled the sword off its bracket, holding it up in the light. He ran a finger gently down the blade. "This is Gūrena or 'The Learner'" he announced, turning back to face them. "She's a thousand years old. Older than Braavos, though that is not so old for Valyrian steel. My grandfather last carried her into battle against Pentos and slew a dozen foes. Honourable deaths, but like all of its kind, its first victim was surely innocent."

The magister took three heavy steps back across the room, holding the sword up for them to examine. "Touch it, if you will" he said.

Kevin took it gingerly. He ran his fingers done the dark metal, feeling the gently curving lines that look to have been folded in on themselves thousands of times over. The edge was still sharp, though he saw no whetstone around to have done so, for a blade that had not been used in decades. They had been given a few Valyrian steel weapons as gifts by now, and already he knew there were materials scientists scratching their heads over its exact composition. As best they could tell, it was perfectly ordinary steel, 99% iron and a little less than 1% carbon. How it retained its incredible sharpness, they had not yet been able to discern.

"They say the secrets of Valyrian steel are forgotten, but that is not quite true" Jaerillos went on. "There are still those who can rework it, and some claim they can make it anew. In Qohor perhaps. More like, the secrets were deliberately forgotten by most."

"Deliberately?" Kevin asked, trying to fathom his meaning. "Why deliberately?"

Jaerillos smiled his little smile. "The exact magics may be forgotten, but the key ingredient is not. All one simply needs to hear is the tale of Nissa Nissa…You see, my friends, every time you touch a Valyrian steel blade, I would stay respectful." Jaerillos gave them a wicked sort of grin. "Each and every one came at the cost of a human life. Pierced through a beating heart, most likely that belonging to a lover of the smith, or even a child. How else, except by such a grand sacrifice, could the blade remain sharp forever?"

The magister retrieved Gūrena gingerly, chuckling as he placed the ancient weapon back on the wall.