This chapter doesn't have Danny & co, but if has a bit of Vlad, and also Clockwork.
I am most likely going to skip tomorrow.
Please enjoy my continued attempt to put all my favorite story lines into one story. Criticism welcome. :)
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Chapter 43:
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Vlad stormed down into his vault. He was furious. Livid. He couldn't recall the last time he had been so angry. The GIW with their idiotic white suits ordering him around? They'd learn their lesson soon enough. They'd all learn their lessons.
First, though, he had to find Daniel, Maddie, and their less intelligent associates. Having the GIW actually find the missing children, after he had been so adamant that they were useless would be a disaster. Then, he could deal with whatever morons the GIW had sent at his leisure.
(A slight sense of unease sat deep in his chest. What if he wasn't dealing with the run-of-the-mill morons?)
Vlad retrieved the artifact he used to summon his avian minions and paused to shoot a glare at what he had intended to be (literally) the crown jewel of his collection. The Crown of Fire. He had gone through an awful lot of trouble (he had put Danny through an awful lot of trouble) trying to get it, and now, now it was fading. Flickering. Dying. Vlad had tried everything to bring it back to it's former, fiery glory, taking it to the Ghost Zone, bathing it in pure, hyper-energized ectoplasm, heating it, cooling it, setting it in his fireplace, plying it with other artifacts, but nothing-
Vlad froze, his eyes widening, scanning and re-scanning the spot where the Crown of Fire should be resting.
But no matter how hard he looked, it wasn't there.
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Clockwork was unhappy.
Clockwork was unhappy for a wide variety of reasons.
Clockwork was unhappy for a wide variety of reasons, most of which had to do with his 'employers,' the Observants.
To begin with, they had called this meeting, and any interaction with them made Clockwork unhappy. This particular meeting made Clockwork even more unhappy than usual, because they had failed to extend him even the threadbare courtesy that was their usual wont.
(When he was in a more sanguine mood, Clockwork might admit that he did not completely hate every Observant. The organization was too large for him to have a personal animus with each member and some of them weren't totally amoral.)
Secondly, the scar across his eye was itching. As the scar was the physical manifestation of the bargain he had struck with the Observants in his (relative) youth, this meant that the Observants were blocking his sight. Oh, officially they were only borrowing it, using his power to bolster their own precognitive abilities, but the last time this had happened, Daniel had burst into his tower, injured, terrified and babbling. Some of the 'younger, less disciplined' Observants had taken it upon themselves to attack and harass Daniel, using their knowledge of aborted futures to mentally corner the child, and their superior numbers to physically attack him with impunity. Daniel had gotten away with light injuries, but only because he had put all effort and energy into getting to Clockwork... Which he might not have done if he hadn't misinterpreted several statements by the Observants to mean that Dan was on the loose.
Clockwork wasn't sure what was worse, the block on his vision and his powers, or not knowing what was happening with Daniel. Of course, he had other responsibilities that he could not attend to as long as the Observants were tapping his temporal powers, but he had become accustomed to knowing where Daniel was and what he was doing.
Then there was this waiting. Clockwork was normally a very patient ghost, but this was excessive. If he hadn't made that oath so long ago...
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Clockwork had originally been three separate, unrelated beings.
One was/is/would be/had been a barely sentient ghost that had both existed eternally, at all points in time, and at none of them A creature that existed in the moment. Every moment. Knowing all events, but understanding none of them.
The second was named Heru, and he had never been alive. He had, however, in his time been so obsessed with the nature of the passage of time that he had left traces in dozens of mortal cultures. He had been born a ghost in the same Realm as Ma'at, with wings, bright, blue feathers, and a falcon's head.
The third had never been human either, but once he had been alive. Or perhaps he would be. Clockwork had never been able to quite track him down, and rather suspected that he did not yet, and might never, exist in this time line.
The later two had, for entirely separate, divergent reasons, decided to contact the first. They succeeded too well. The result was a soul merge and madness.
Each mind was utterly alien to the other, each thought twisted and warped through three disparate, and sometimes antagonistic, points of view. The first had no experience with anything. No comprehension of the flow of events, of cause and effect. The others were adrift. Too much power, their body changing under them, twisting and rippling under their skin, which itself was changing. Worse than changing. Symbols and arcs and orrery blueprints on his skin, a pit in his chest, and aching. Something lost, that he couldn't even remember. A thousand futures and pasts stretching before and behind him, never knowing what was which, which was real, which was true.
(He had a great deal of sympathy for Daniel's troubles reconciling his two 'halves.')
Madness was the least of it. Confusion was the least of it. He had done horrible things.
It was in madness that he had learned of the Observants, but it was in a moment of lucidity that he had sought them out. They were seers, he reasoned, perhaps they could teach him to control his sight. He could see a path, tenuous, and thready, that lead to clarity, to finding balance.
Clockwork didn't regret putting an end to his madness, and the destruction it was causing, but he did regret not reading the contract a little more closely. And, perhaps, not picking some other, less shady group to trust with his sanity.
Not that he hadn't been grateful. But even the deepest gratitude had it's limits, and after many, many long years, Clockwork had found his.
So he resented the Observants.
Then, after their treatment of Daniel, who was his, he hated them.
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Clockwork looked up from his musings as the door to the room he was waiting in (a lavishly appointed meeting room) was opened. He expected an Observant, a lower ranked one most likely, to arrive and tell him the purpose for which he was summoned, but he was mistaken. An occurrence rare enough to raise his eyebrows.
"Nephthys," he said, addressing his fellow Ancient. "What brings you here?"
"Don't you know?" teased the dark-skinned woman, brushing her curly hair back over her shoulder. Clockwork's lips thinned, and twitched. "Sorry," said Nephthys. "They're pulling that again, are they?" She continued, not waiting for an answer, "They called an official meeting of the full High Council. Ancients, Judges, Court Magicians-"
Clockwork scoffed. "A way to get more Observant votes to the table."
"True, but there's no need to interrupt me."
Clockwork made a face. "I apologize."
"I know you're under a lot of stress," said Nephthys, consolingly. "Anyway, Ancients, Judges, Court Magicians, even though their puppets, Generals, I know you don't like them, Tigers, Ravens, Smith, everybody. The whole High Council. But beyond that..." Nephthys trailed off, making a negligent gesture. "I don't really know. There are a limited number of things that they can call the High Council for, and a smaller number of things that the would call the High Council for, but I've been busy lately." She (unnecessarily) straightened the veil pinned in her hair. She issued a sound that could have been a name, but not a human one, "is having some kind of global nuclear war, and it's just a nightmare."
"I have suspicions," said Clockwork. "I know that Themis and Ma'at have been planning something lately. This may be a move on the Observants' part to disrupt that. Or," and now Clockwork was voicing his fears, "it could be move against liminal spirits. To deny them the rights of ghosts."
"Because of Daniel?"
"Yes," said Clockwork shortly, voice tight.
"It won't happen," said Nephthys, reassuringly. "You can't get enough votes to change the law. Most likely, they won't even be able to find enough councilors for a quorum. No one's seen the Generals since Pariah lost his mind, the Tigers don't listen to anyone, and Smith doesn't come to meetings unless he thinks there's going to be a change in leadership. Although..." Nephthys smiled, wickedly, running her fingers along the blade of her bagging hook. "I know a candidate I'd not say 'no' to. And I think you might, too."
The door swung open again, and two women walked in, whispering fiercely. They stopped upon entering, and the second scanned the room.
"So," said Ma'at of Many Feathers, "Issitoq hasn't bothered to show up yet. Why am I not surprised?"
"He isn't late yet," said Themis, Most Honorable Lady of Scales and Sword. She was always fair. "We're actually early."
"I have been waiting for almost three hours," said Clockwork.
"They told you to come that early?" asked Themis, frowning behind her blindfold.
"Yes."
"That's rude of them."
The Court Magicians came next, all of them in a file, all of them, like Clockwork, unfortunates who had put too much trust in the Observants. They were powerful, clever people, but in many ways they might as well be thralls, all their will dedicated to serving the Observants.
Then Fright Knight, youngest of the Ancients, came in, muttering imprecations about the Panopticon's stabling facilities under his breath. He sat down angrily. Fright Knight always wanted to bring Nightmare into Council meetings with him. The Council of Ancients allowed it. The Observants were a little more fastidious. Finicky. Ridiculous. Nightmare was at least as intelligent as any of them, and made no more mess than any other spectral creature.
Pandora came next, and she had felt the need to bring her spears with her. She spared one of her four hands to give a wave and brief greeting to Clockwork and Nephthys, and sat down next to Themis. They were related. Tenuously. Themis was one of Pandora's great-great aunts, although they were almost the same age.
Then, surprisingly, a Tiger came in, all black and white and electric blue, two green-eyed Ravens perched on his back. Lightning and fire made flesh. Times past, the Tigers had been made the representatives of four-legged ghost animals, and the Ravens had been chosen as representatives of those that had wings and feathers. The Tigers had laughed off the whole thing as a bad cause hundreds of years ago, but the Ravens always sent at least two to attend.
The next one to enter was Nocturne, Ancient Master of Dreams. He had his mask on at an angle, and was clutching a pillow, his starry mantle drawn close around him. He smiled sleepily at Clockwork and Nephthys, and sat down next to them.
"How has your grandson been?" asked Nocturne.
"Daniel has been well."
Nocturne smiled, blinking slowly. "He's a good child," said Nocturne. "Clever," he added, "winning my little game." The ghost yawned. "Am I early?"
"Not any more," said Themis, licking her thumb and slicking a loose strand of black hair back into her bun.
It was a few more minutes before the doors opened again, and Undergrowth and Vortex were lead into the room in chains by Observant guardsmen. Those present who were possessed of eyes glared at the two ghosts. Those who were possessed of clothing pulled them away, as if they thought that their clothes might get dirty from mere proximity.
Undergrowth and Vortex had been appointed to the Council of Ancients by Pariah Dark. They were not well liked. They probably wouldn't be well liked even if they hadn't been sociopaths.
Only then did Issitoq deign to appear, another, less richly dressed, Observant following in his wake, carrying a wooden box.
"I suppose this is everyone," said Issitoq, looking down his nonexistent nose at the gathered ghosts. Undergrowth and Vortex growled, deep voices echoing.
"I should hope so," drawled Clockwork. "You do realize how late you are?"
Issitoq didn't even acknowledge the Ancient.
"Then-"
The door opened. Smith, with his brawny arms, curly beard and thick black apron, walked in.
It was too bad that Issitoq had centuries of experience hiding his emotions. Clockwork would have liked to see his shocked face.
Smith quietly walked to an empty seat, and perched himself on it with no fanfare. He gazed expectantly at Issitoq with bright black eyes.
"The High Council has been called to deal with an issue that affects all the Infinite Realms," announced Issitoq.
(Well, if that hadn't been the case, he would soon have some very angry, very powerful ghosts on his hands.)
Issitoq nodded to his assistant, who flipped open the box. Nestled on the crushed velvet was a sharply-pointed crown. Green fire licked weakly up its sides. Ma'at and Themis looked pleased. On closer inspection, the box was set with symbols that Ma'at's people favored. One of them had likely retrieved it from Vladimir, and forced the Observants to acknowledge it. Clockwork knew that they had been watching Vladimir for some time now.
"We must find a way to restore-"
Issitoq was cut off with a sharp laugh. "Restore?" asked Nephthys. "A Crown once faded cannot be restored. There's only one thing left to do."
"And that is the business of the Council of Ancients, not the High Council," said Fright Knight, standing, as if to leave.
One of the Court Magicians said, "But we've spent so long without a reigning king... The people wouldn't accept it."
Another said, "You would also need a candidate that fulfills all conditions, and there simply aren't any available. Not that you'd all agree on." His eyes flicked towards Undergrowth and Vortex.
"You'll note," said Clockwork, "that the rules do not in fact require that we all agree."
The Tiger purred. "You imply that a ghost has defeated one of you?"
"None of that," said Issitoq, "matters. We are not here to choose a new king, we are here to prevent that becoming a necessity."
Clockwork rolled his eyes. Issitoq was only delaying the inevitable.
