Chapter Eight

The Magic Academy, Kingdom of Tristain, 1st Day of Ansuz

On the morning after the Sleipnir ball, the academy was awhirl.

Rumours abounded of a battle the night before; that some intruder had battled the Luftpanzer Ritter, and that one of the students had gone missing. But the majority of attention was focused on the object standing in the meadow just outside the academy.

It was an airship, unlike any that anyone present had seen before. They were accustomed to airships that looked much like sailing ships, but with wide articulated wings set into the underside to steer them through the sky.

This airship bore little resemblance to a sailing ship. It had no masts, and its metal wings were set into the rear of the hull. Into each wing was set a great egg-shaped chamber, with what looked like a windmill set into the rear and a chimney rising from the roof. A similar chimney and windmill were also set into the rear of the hull, just behind the bridge.

To the vast majority of the students and staff, it was something to marvel at. As they strolled about its decks or the grass below, taking in the marvelous sight, they doubtless wondered at its functions, its purpose. What were those strange rear-facing windmills for? Why those chimneys? Why did it have no masts, no sails?

To Suleiman, these matters were not quite so mysterious. He had seen the mighty vessel descend from the skies, seen the smoke belching from its chimneys, the whirling windmills slow to a gradual halt as the ship came to a rest. That the fires within turned the windmills, and drove the vessel along, was simple logic.

But how? How could windmills, meant to catch the wind, instead drive the wind before them? By what means did fires cause movement?

The man best equipped to answer his questions, Professor Jan Colbert, stood across the deck from him. He was tall and lean, clad in the blue robe of a faculty member; though Suleiman had never seen him around the academy. He was balding on top, though short brown hair covered the back of his head. Pale blue eyes peered over a pince nez, seated on a long, narrow nose. He had the look and manner of a scholar, but there was something more to him, something hidden, that Suleiman could not help but notice, yet could not quite identify.

He was smiling, but awkwardly, with an air of sadness. Standing beside Tiffania, Suleiman watched as he faced Louise and Saito, Kirche at his side.

"…and so by chance, we ended up here," Colbert concluded a rather long-winded recount of his journey.

"And we saw you fighting," added Kirche. "It was quite a surprise."

"I was surprised too," replied Saito. "I mean, I saw you, and…"

He trailed off, and began rubbing at his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell us you were alive?" demanded Louise, who looked as if she was going to cry herself. "We thought you were dead! We all did!"

"That's my fault," Kirche interjected. "I was going to tell you, but I wasn't sure how. Besides, father has had poor Jan working night and day on secret projects. So secret that he couldn't even write."

"I…I'm so very sorry, Miss Valliere, and Mister Saito." Colbert was smiling, but Suleiman could see sorrow in his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"No…it's all right." Louise seemed to master herself. "I'm…I'm glad you're alive, Professor Colbert."

"So am I," added Saito. He then turned, and started as he saw Tiffania and Suleiman.

"Ah, I totally forgot!" He gestured at them. "Professor, this is Tiffania Westwood, and Suleiman Reza al-Karim. Tiffa, Suleiman, Professor Jan Colbert."

"What a pleasure to meet you both!" Colbert perked up considerably. "Miss Zerbst told me of you both in her letters, but I never thought I'd meet two half-Elves in the flesh! And an Arysian to boot!"

"Oh…thank you." Tiffania blushed.

"The pleasure is mine, Professor." Suleiman bowed. "Though I fear you have the advantage of me. I know nothing of these strange events."

"Nor I," added Tiffania. "Mister Saito and Miss Louise never mentioned you."

"I'm not surprised, under the circumstances." Colbert was smiling, but he seemed to fade somehow, as if a shadow had settled over his soul. "During the war, the academy was attacked by Reconquista mercenaries. It must have been…about a year ago now. I was hurt quite badly, and Miss Tabitha cast a spell that made me appear dead."

"Then Tabitha told me, and we got Jan out of the coffin and smuggled him home!" proclaimed Kirche cheerfully. She grabbed Colbert's arm, in a manner that seemed to unsettle him. "Well, we had to get that hairy-legged lesbian off his back somehow!"

Louise suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

"You mean Agnes, right?" Saito's smile faltered. "Now that you mention it, word's gonna get around, you know."

"Ah, yes." Colbert sighed. "Well, I suppose it was going to happen sooner or later."

"And if she comes barging in here, she'll get a scorching with compliments of Anhalt-Zerbst!" declared Kirche. "But enough of that. Jan, I can tell that you're clamouring to show everyone the inner workings. Shall we start now?"

"Sounds good to me!" replied Saito, with evident enthusiasm.

"I'd love to!" added Tiffania, smiling.

"Oh, but…" Louise protested. Then she trailed off, as she spied someone on the deck. Suleiman surreptitiously followed her line of sight, and noticed Siesta working at one of the tables her fellow maids had set out on the deck.

"I confess I am curious as to how this ship works," he said, with a respectful nod to Colbert. "Lead on, Professor."

Colbert led them into the airship's wheelhouse, which tool up the rearmost third of its upper deck. The interior walls were paneled in polished wood, giving them an elegance Suleiman would not have expected on an airship. Their journey took them down a spiral staircase, and into a long, tall chamber at the very rear of the vessel. They stood on a gantry, which encircled the walls of the chamber, and the bizarre machine that dominated it.

"This is the main crankshaft, leading to the main propeller," Colbert explained with elegant enthusiasm. "It's essentially a copy of the mechanism inside the Dragon's Cloak, only much bigger, of course. As you can see, the pistons move the connecting rods in an up-and-down motion, which turns the crankshaft at the bottom. "

He turned to look at them, and faltered. Though Saito seemed to understand, enthusiastically even, Louise and Tiffania both looked thoroughly bewildered. Suleiman only hoped he didn't look half so confused; he didn't want to upset the Professor any more than he was likely to be.

"I…I do hope you follow," Colbert went on, suddenly awkward.

"We may have to draw pictures for them, Jan darling," Kirche interjected, smirking.

"I understand the Professor perfectly!" snapped Louise, her face red.

"Oh really?" There was a twinkle in Kirche's eyes. "Then, why don't you explain?"

"I will!" barked Louise, ignoring the sour look Saito was giving her. "It…it uses…it uses magic to turn the shaft!"

"Wrong!" declared Kirche. "The steam comes up through the pipes, pushes the derricks up at that end, which forces the connecting rods down at that end. The steam then condenses, creating a vacuum that pulls the derrick back down again, which pulls the connecting rods up. No magic needed at all."

"You have mastered this with some alacrity, Miss Zerbst," commented Colbert, with evident pleasure.

"Well, most of our money's in mining, so it's not unfamiliar," replied Kirche. "They use machines like this to pump water out of the mines."

"Oh yeah," mumbled Saito, gazing up at the derricks. "They did that, didn't they?"

"Miss Zerbst, would you be so good as to show our guests to the conference chamber?" asked Colbert. "There are some things I would discuss with Mister Saito."

"If you say so, Jan." Kirche gave him a sultry pout, making him blush and earning a snort from Louise, then led the way out of the engine room; sashaying for all she was worth. In a few moments, Saito and Jan Colbert were alone.

"I do hope I haven't offended you," Colbert went on awkwardly. "There are some things I wanted to ask you."

"It's okay." Saito turned to face him. 'I'm just really glad to see you again, Professor."

"I wish I could have sent word," Colbert said, sighing. "But the Margrave would not allow it. He wanted to keep this project secret for as long as possible, not to mention all the others. I can only hope you and Miss Valliere can forgive me."

"Louise is just happy to see you," insisted Saito kindly. "She's fond of you, you know."

"Oh, I..." Colbert blushed again. "Well, I must confess I've always been fond of her too. She was always my most determined student, always working so hard. She never gave up hope that she might master magic, and prove her detractors wrong."

"Well, I'd say she did one better," quipped Saito. "But, Professor, what made you come up with all this?" He spread his arms to encompass the ship. "I mean...it's beyond awesome!"

"I must say I can scarcely believe it myself." Colbert took a look around the engine room, as if reminding himself that it was real. "As it happens, I made her because of you. I named her Ostland, for your eastern homeland. It was only thanks to you that I was able to build her."

"That's a bit much, Professor." Saito rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

"You helped me find the Dragon's Cloak," Colbert went on. "You helped me to make it work. If not for you, I would not have seen how its engine functioned. This ship would not have been possible."

"I guess," Saito mused. "But it'll be a while to the next eclipse."

"True." Colbert chuckled. "But it's not every day one gains a magnate of the Empire for a patron. It wasn't an opportunity I could pass up."

"Yeah, Kirche's dad." Saito gave him a quizzical look. "What did he want you to build this for anyway? Does he just like big machines?"

"If only that were the case." Colbert sighed. "His grace is a clever man with many fine qualities. Unfortunately, he is as ambitious as he is open-minded. Even one ship like this would give him a significant advantage over his rivals. A whole fleet would let him rule Germania's skies."

"Professor…"

Saito's heart sank. He could hardly blame Colbert for doing what the Margrave wanted. But even so…

"I know what you must think of me, Saito," said the Professor sadly. "But I had little choice. People like us rarely do. To pursue our passions, or to change the world for the better, we must do so on the terms of the mighty."

Saito watched him for what felt like an eternity. He could see the pain in his eyes, the guilt of the mistake he had made all those years ago, and the shame of having his inventions used for war; the very wars he been assaulted and humiliated for speaking out against.

"I'm no different, Professor," he said, his heart aching with every word. "I let myself get used as well. I went to war."

Saito expected the Professor to be angry, or at least disappointed. But all he got was that sad, gentle smile.

"Miss Zerbst told me about it" he said. "She told me you charged an army of seventy-thousand so that Miss Valliere might escape with her life." He chuckled. "Life certainly seems to keep you busy, Mister Saito."

"Yeah right!" groused Saito. "Fireballs! Lightning bolts! Bullets! Hairy stinking verruca-ridden giant's feet! They threw everything they had at me! If Tiffa hadn't yanked me out of there, I'd be a pile of mush in a field just outside of Saxe-Gotha!"

"And I'd have been sold for scrap," added Derflinger from his scabbard.

"Then I mention Tiffa once, once!" Saito went on, warming to his tirade. "And she goes chasing me round the academy blowing me up! Honestly! Dere-dere one minute! Tsun-tsun-kaboom the next!"

He trailed off as he saw that Colbert was almost doubled over laughing. He opened his mouth to protest, only to start laughing himself. It was just so…crazy.

"A-a-a-a-and by the way!" he spluttered. "What's this with you and Kirche anyway!?"

The conference chamber was considerably more luxurious than Louise had expected. The wooden panels lining the walls were finely carved, and the chairs surrounding the enormous table were expensively upholstered. It was a chamber almost fit for Royalty to use.

"Now that we're in more civilized surroundings," Kirche strode to the head of the table and laid an arm over the top of the high-backed chair. "Time for us to talk. Just what, exactly, did Jan and I rescue you from last night?"

Louise was taken aback. She heard a gasp from Tiffania.

"It…it was…"

"And what was Tabitha doing with the Luftpanzer Ritter hot on her heels?" Kirche demanded, her smile disappearing. "You can get yourselves in trouble all you want, but if you dragged Tabitha into it…!"

"It wasn't us!" snapped Louise. "It was that woman from Albion! Sheffield!"

"Her?" Kirche cocked an eyebrow. "Cromwell's secretary?"

Louise bit her lip. She had said too much, but it was too late to back down now.

"She…she was working for Sheffield," she went on, her blood running cold. "She…she tried to kidnap me."
"I see." Kirche looked away, the anger fading from her face. "I…I wondered if something like that might happen."

"What do you mean?" demanded Louise. She felt a shiver of fear. She and Kirche had never seen eye-to-eye, but she had never expected treachery, not like this.

"Tabitha…Tabitha isn't who you think she is," Kirche went on. She turned to face them, and Louise was stunned by her grim countenance. Never, not in all her time at the academy, had she seen the other girl like that.

"She's a member of the Gallian Royal family," she said. "Her real name is Charlotte d'Orleans."

"D'Orleans?" cried Louise, her heart jumping. "As in Charles d'Orleans, the Prince who was killed?"

"He was her father," Kirche said. "Her mother has been kept as a hostage ever since. King Joseph forces her to serve as a Knight of the North Parterre, carrying out dangerous missions. This Sheffield woman is obviously one of his agents."

It was all Louise could do to stay on her feet. It was too much to take in. Tabitha a Princess? A member of the North Parterre?

Unbelievable.

She had heard of the North Parterre, of course. There were few among the nobility who had not. They were one of Gallia's four Royal orders of knighthood, named for the gardens surrounding the Royal palace. But whereas the orders of east and south and west had flowers to their name, the North Parterre was named for the bare yard to the north, shadowed by the palace so that no flowers grew there.

Knights of the shadows, hidden from the sunlight. Knights without honour or pride, or any hope of glory. Spies, assassins, kidnappers, thieves; men and women who would hesitate at no crime, and flinch from no wickedness, if the King commanded it. Only the Black Swords of Germania were half so dreaded.

And Tabitha was one of them. Tabitha, who was so small and quiet and harmless. Tabitha, who was content to eat vast meals and read her books in peace. Tabitha, who had so little presence that if she sat still for more than a few moments, one might forget she was there.

Tabitha, who had helped her escape from Albion. Tabitha, who had caught her as she leapt from Sylphid's back, and landed her safe in Saito's arms aboard the Dragon's Cloak. Tabitha, who had helped her fight the revenant Prince Wales, and grant him the peace of death. Tabitha, who had battled alongside them against Melville and his murderous mercenaries.

Tabitha…her friend.

She glanced at Tiffania and Suleiman. Tiffania was looking at her with a sad, worried look, as if she were a child in pain. Suleiman just looked confused, surrounded by intrigues that had no meaning for him.

She looked again at Kirche, who was staring at her through eyes of polished copper; those eyes that had sparkled so infuriatingly with every jibe, every insult, every cruel joke. But there was no sparkle in those eyes, no amusement, no levity. Only a question, a challenge, as if they dared her to pass judgement.

"If she is your friend," Louise asked suspiciously. "Why did you just tell me this? Haven't you just betrayed her?"

"I have no choice," replied Kirche, with a sincerity Louise hadn't thought she was capable of. "She is my precious friend, no, my only friend. And in all the world, we are the only friends she has."

"What will you do?"

"Find her, of course." Kirche straightened up, her voice hardening. "Find her, and protect her from Joseph, and all who serve him."

"Do you even know where she's gone?"

"The only place she would dream of going. She has gone home, doubtless hoping to rescue her mother and flee before Joseph's agents can catch up. Somehow I don't fancy her chances."

Louise sighed. What was she to say? What was she to do?

"We must tell her Majesty about this, when she arrives to see the Ostland," she said. "We can ask for her help."

"You'd do that?" Kirche stared at her in astonishment. "For me? For Tabitha?"

Louise paused. Something deep inside her squirmed and roiled. It was a cruel and selfish part of her, the part of her that a lifetime of shame, disappointment, and humiliation had conceived and nurtured. It wanted to laugh at Kirche's despair, to mock her weakness and fear, to throw all those lonely, miserable years back in her face.

But she couldn't do it. She was more than that, better than that. She had to be, or what had it all been for?

"Tabitha is my friend too," she said, forcing down a lump in her throat. "I owe her too much to abandon her now."

"Louise…"

"Excuse me." It was Tiffania's turn to speak up. "I don't know if there's anything I can do, but even so, I want to help Miss Tabitha in any way I can."

"Tiffa…" Kirche looked as if she was about to cry. "Oh, I can call you Tiffa, right?"

"Of course!" Tiffania beamed, and Kirche clasped her hands.

"I am but a wanderer, a stranger," added Suleiman. "But if Miss Tiffania wants to help, I can't stand idly by."

"But…Suleiman…?" Louise was shocked. "What about your friend Majid?"

"Majid would want me to do this," replied Suleiman, his voice rising, hardening, as if some hidden strength had awakened in his soul. "Besides, I'll never find him hanging around here."

"Thank you, both of you." Kirche's smile was back, as she gazed from Tiffania, to Suleiman, and then to Louise.

And then, in that moment, something inside her burst.

"Oh Louise!"

Louise let out a shriek as Kirche flung her arms around her, burying her face in her bosom.

"Oh Louise! Have I ever told you how cute you are! Louise you're a sweetheart!"

"Kirche! Let go!" Louise shrieked, her voice muffled by Kirche's breasts, which by the way were ridiculously oversized and not at all pleasant to the touch; inferior in all respects to those of her beloved second-eldest sister Cattleya.

"Oh why couldn't you be this sweet on the day we met? You could be my little sister!"

"Don't say such things! Tiffania! Suleiman! Help!"

"Ah…" Tiffania fidgeted nervously. "I…I don't know how."

"Miss Kirche," pleaded Suleiman gently. "I think you should…"

Then the door opened.

"…like I said, you need to use steel for the rails so they can take the weight."

"I see. That'll be a challenge."

"Yeah, but it'll…"

Saito and Colbert fell silent, and stared at the scene before them.

"Th-th-th…!" babbled Louise. "Th…this isn't what it looks like!"

Lagdorian Lake, Kingdom of Gallia

Something was wrong.

Majid was fairly sure of it. It was something in the air, something setting his teeth on edge, as he trudged along the road.

The horsemen and carriages that thundered past him a few moments later had convinced him of it. The riders with their faces covered, the carriages with their window blinds lowered, hiding those inside. They had worn no escutcheon, carried no colours, but as Majid had scrambled into the ditch, he had seen the weapons under their cloaks.

Wherever they were going, they intended violence.

It was a morbid, perhaps unwise curiosity that had kept Majid wandering along the road, following the tracks scored into the mud by the carriage wheels. He had long since gotten into the habit of leaping off the road at the first sound of hoof or wheel, hiding in the undergrowth until all was silent. Sometimes they had come in numbers, small groups riding back and forth along the roads, forcing him to lay low until nightfall. Some of the, had worn red cloaks.

His feet ached, and his stomach growled. He had not eaten since the early morning, the last of a loaf of bread he had bought in a village bakery three days earlier. There was game aplenty in the forest, but poaching was a risky business. A week ago, he had killed himself a boar, only to be jumped by an irate gamekeeper while trying to butcher it.

Majid's heart sank as he remembered. He hadn't wanted to kill the man, but there had been no choice. He had no wish to end his days broken on the wheel, like the unfortunates he had seen along the roadside. He could not afford to die, not until he had found his young master.

To make matters worse, he had been forced to abandon his prize. It had been all he could do to pull his knife from the gamekeeper's throat and get away before his fellow gamekeepers found him. He had spent a hungry, desperate night on the run, scrambling through the underbrush and splashing along small streams, the baying of hounds and the angry vengeful cries of the gamekeepers never far behind.

At least they hadn't gotten a good look at him.

The road curved through the forest, eventually reaching a long, straight stretch. Directly ahead was an opening, leading out to what looked from that distance to be a lake. Was it Lagdorian Lake, where the water spirit resided? Had he reached his destination?

But as Majid paused a moment, gathering his thoughts, he saw once again the tracks in the road. Instead of going straight on, they curved sharply to the left, down another road running between the trees.

Curiosity, or purpose?

Majid paused a little longer, allowing himself to rest as his attention fell on the tracks. The ruts were fresh, but thicker and less even than those he had seen before, and the hoof-marks were chaotic, and frantically mixed-up, as if the horses had been dancing around the road.

Had there been a fight? No, for there was no sign of one. Majid could see no bullet holes in the trees, nor the tell-tale scrapes and ruts of fallen bodies in the mud.

No. They had come and gone, and fairly quickly. Wherever they had come from, and wherever they had gone, their business had been down that side road.

But was it any business of his? Obviously some skullduggery had taken place, but what was that to him? His priority, his duty, was to find his young master; and his young master was to the north, past the water spirit's lake. There would be little to find in that strange place, little that could help him.

Forcing down his curiosity, he strode onward. The trees fell slowly away, replaced by a great, wide lake surrounded by forest on all sides. In the near distance, mountain peaks gleamed white in the sun.

The lake itself was all but still, its waters undulating under a gentle breeze. There was no one in sight.

Steeling himself, Majid strode down to the lake. He knelt beside the placid water, and drew his dagger.

Aisha had told him what to do, how to entreat the Water Spirit. But he feared to do so. How would so mighty a being react to the plea of a mere human?

He steeled himself. He had no choice.

"Oh Ondine I entreat you! Divine Water Spirit, hear my plea!"

He cut his palm, and let the blood drip into the water.

"I am Majid of Arysia, Majid the Ghulam, Majid the Silahtar! Know by my blood that my heart is true, and my intentions sincere! Answer me I pray you, and grant my humble request!"

For a few moments, for what seemed like forever, nothing happened.

Then the water glowed, and Majid stared, enraptured, as a shape rose from the waters before him. It was a human shape, though made of water; the shape of a lean and muscular young man, with long hair.

A man…like himself.

"Your blood has called me, Majid of Arysia." Its voice was strange, otherworldly; like many voices speaking all at once. "What boon would you ask of me?"

"Oh spirit, I kneel before you, a humble and nameless man." Majid lowered his head, hardly daring to look at the apparition hovering before him. "I seek for one who is lost to me, a life more precious than my own. He is Suleiman Reza Al-Karim, my young master, and my friend."

"You ask knowledge of me," the spirit replied. "What price are you willing to pay for it?"

Majid forced himself not to shiver. It was as he had feared.

"I have no treasure to offer, oh spirit," he said. "Only my service, if you will have it."

For a long time there was silence.

"If you would serve my will, our purpose is this same," said the spirit. "Your friend is known to me. He has become Lifdrasir, heir of the fourth warrior."

Majid's heart clenched, his blood running cold. Was it truly as Aisha had said?

"What means this, oh spirit?" he pleaded, silently praying that his fears had not come true. "What has become of him?"

"He is the fourth warrior Lifdrasir, summoned by the fourth heir," the spirit went on. "The four heirs have awakened, and have summoned their warriors; Gandalfr, Windalfr, Myodaitnir, and Lifdrasir. They are bound to the heirs by the power of destiny, a bond that only death can break."

Majid's heart sank. He knew the teachings of Cyras, and Cyras had taught that destiny did not suffer interference gladly. But the thought of his young master bound to some stranger; imprisoned, bewitched, enslaved…

"Who are these heirs?" he cried out, half-pleading, half-raging. "For what have they stolen my young master?"

"They are the heirs of the changer of the way," said the spirit. "The one called Brimir. They have inherited his power, and summoned his familiars, his four warriors."

Majid shivered. Brimir. Of all the dark and terrible powers to whom his young master could have fallen victim, it had to be Brimir. Brimir the wise, whom Cyras had called friend. Brimir the betrayer, who had broken the world and fled from justice. Brimir the mad, who had sought to make himself a god.

"What would you have me do, oh spirit?" There was nothing left now, but to pay the debt he had incurred.

"You must go to the four heirs and the four warriors, and bring them a warning."

"A warning, spirit?"

"The world is wounded. Many spirits have been destroyed, and the magic is out of balance. Malefic powers are abroad, seeking to enter the world and destroy it utterly. Only the four can avert disaster. They alone have the power to defeat the dark one, and restore the balance. If you would serve me, Majid of Arysia, you must carry this warning to the four."

"Where will I find them, spirit?"

"To the north of here. The Gandalfr is known to me, as is the one who bound him. His companions call him Saito, and his master is called Louise."

"I thank you, oh mighty spirit. I shall obey your command."

The figure dissolved back into the lake, the waters rippling out from where it descended.

And then all was still.

Majid stood up, a new resolve warring with a lingering despair within him. It was as Aisha had implied. His young master had been taken from him, and bound to another by some strange magic; a magic named as the power of destiny.

It was not for him to interfere with destiny. The old stories made clear what would happen to those who did. It was that sin, born of wrath and greed and pride, that had turned Brimir from a wise Mage to a madman, and driven him to break the world.

But this was his young master, his younger brother, his only friend. What was he to do? What excuse could he offer for such a terrible failure? How would he explain himself to Silat, to those waiting in fearful silence? Of what fate would Cyras judge him worthy?

He shook his head. He had no time to dwell on his failure, his shame. The water spirit Ondine had bestowed a mission upon him, and he had a debt to pay. There was nothing left to do but find his young master, and pass Ondine's warning to the four heirs and their warriors.

And when it was over, when the four had done their part, he would free his young master. Even if it cost him his life.

As he headed back to the road, the sound of wings made him glance skyward. A blue-scaled dragon soared overhead, flapping its wings as it slowed down.

Majid strode on. He did not have time for distractions.

Sorry this took so long. Since smaller chapters seemed to go down well with One and Only Son (my other story on SV), I've decided to take a similar approach here. It'll speed up posting if nothing else.

A quick point. I added Majid's encounter with Ondine as a convenient way for him to get a better idea of where he's supposed to be going. The alternative would be to have him bump into Sylphid/Irukuku at Tabitha's mother's mansion; though in that case Sylphid would flee with him directly to the academy, and that doesn't fit the plot I and Zaru have in mind. Fortunately I have another way to get Majid to where he's going; one which should tie up one or two other loose ends.