i.
The Dormitory Towers

Naria Lintrax, Headmistress of the Dormitory Towers, was suffering from a terrible headache.

It was the yodeling and. About a week after the banderbears had arrived in Omniphrax, they had begun to howl incessantly. She knew that it was in the nature of banderbears to call out to faraway friends—that was how it had been for centuries in the Deepwoods—but she had hoped that there would be no need for it when they were in close quarters.

Fortunately, she reminded herself, this was only temporary. In a few more days, the Farmers Academic would have placed the finishing touches on a banderbear sanctuary which, while it would never compare to roaming the endless forest, would be a far better accommodation than either the City of Yodels or the Dormitory Towers.

"Waaaark!"

Naria jumped. There was a white raven tapping at her window.

"Traak," she muttered.

Whenever it was time to harvest the flight-rocks in the Stone Gardens, the white ravens would take to the air as a mighty flock and circle the Loftus Observatory in Sanctaphrax, screeching and flapping in the event which, combined with the eerie howlings of the ripe rocks, was known as the Chorus of the Dead. But one white raven, Traak, had never had a great sense of direction. Instead of circling the Loftus Observatory, he always used to separate from the group and—quite by accident—circle the Administrative Tower, miles away from Sanctaphrax. Eventually, Naria had taken in the poor misfit, fed it, and taught it the basics of speech. Before long, Traak had begun acting as a messenger, informing Naria of anything important that was happening at the Dormitory Towers.

Naria rose to her feet, crossed the room, and opened the window. Traak hopped inside. "Waaaark!" he screeched again.

"News?" inquired Naria.

"Banderbears want see Naria," croaked Traak.

"The Banderbears want to see me?" said Naria, surprised.

"Want see now," Traak confirmed.

"Well, then…I'd best see them right away. Thank you, Traak," Naria said, tossing him a piece of barley bread, which the white raven snapped up greedily before flying off once again.

The narrow, cobbled streets of the Dormitory Towers were nearly deserted, as ever. Most of its inhabitants were Deepwooders, recently displaced by the Phraxguardians and rescued by the Pirates Academic, and they usually kept to their quarters, trying to stave off their memories and huddling with their family if they had one. Most of the few individuals who were out and about were the caretakers, transporting food and reports between buildings.

As Naria headed for the tower containing the banderbears, the yodeling grew louder. The noise reached a deafening crescendo as she entered the building, walking up stairs and through hallways, heading for the quarters of the banderbear leader, Meerowa.

Naria pushed open the door to the room at the top of the tower, and entered to find the large gray banderbear positively bellowing, while three caretakers and a Librarian attempted to calm him.

"Wu-u-u-u-uh! Wu-u-u-u-uh!" cried Meerowa.

"How did you get here so quickly?" exclaimed one of the caretakers, shouting to make himself heard and only barely succeeding. "We only sent a caretaker to bring you word two minutes ago!"

"I had it from another source," said Naria simply. "Now what's the problem?"

But the instant the banderbear caught sight of the Headmistress, he fell silent at once. "He's been shouting over and over again that he needs to see you," explained the Librarian.

Although Meerowa had stopped yodeling, the howls of the other banderbears continued from down below. Meerowa stormed over to the window of his room, poked his head out, and yelled, "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The noise thundered across the Dormitory Towers, and Naria felt that the floating rock had juddered. After the ringing in her ears ceased, however, she realized that the other banderbears had gone quiet, too.

"He was shouting 'Silence!'" said the Librarian.

"Not before time, too," said Naria, relieved. "Now, then, Meerowa…what's wrong? Why have all of the banderbears been so agitated?"

Meerowa began yodeling and waving his paws in complicated motions. The Librarian hastened to translate. "Meerowa is saying that Omniphrax may be in grave peril."

"Grave peril?" said Naria, the color draining from her face. "What does he mean, 'grave peril'?"

As Meerowa started talking again, the Librarian once more interpreted his meaning. "One of the banderbears in the City of Yodels overheard some sort of plot from a pair of Phraxguardians while rummaging in Great Glade," he said. "He was old and weak, and had to be carried, semi-conscious, throughout the entire journey to Omniphrax. Now that he's here, he's finally started to recover, and he warned of approaching danger."

"What kind of danger?"

"Meerowa says he isn't sure. The old banderbear heard only small parts of the plan, and understood little about what they were saying. It seems, however, that they are planning to build upon an old tactic which has so far proved ineffective, but that the new version of the strategy promises to be devastating."

"That's all? He doesn't know any more about it?" said Naria, frustrated and worried.

"That's all."

Naria didn't like what she was hearing at all. A new version of an old tactic? What was this tactic, and what was different about it now? They had just endured a second attack from the Vilnix Pompolnius, and were suffering from heavy damage and casualties at Twilight's Edge…how much worse could the news get?

"Well, thank you for telling me this, Meerowa," said Naria, turning to leave. "You've done Omniphrax a great service…I must report the news to Tesener Burlix."

ii.
The Great Phraxtower

"Xelius Pulnix," purred Vartolius Xax, "You've returned."

"Most High Phraxguardian," replied Xelius Pulnix respectfully, inclining his head.

"Do you think that it is working, then?" asked the dictator, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I certainly do, sir," said Xelius Pulnix confidently. "This time, we killed a lot more of those traitorous academics…and caused more damage at Twilight's Edge."

"And what of the Vilnix Pompolnius?"

"I'm afraid to say that it will require far more repairs than last time," said Xelius Pulnix bitterly. "There's significant damage to the glisterbeam, and two of the propulsion ducts are inoperable."

"Well, that won't matter as long as we've caused more damage to them," said Vartolius Xax. "Would you say that was the case?"

"Oh, I think it was about even, High Phraxguardian. They had more dead, but the damage to the Vilnix Pompolnius is very near critical. It'll take perhaps two weeks before the ship is skyworthy again."

"That isn't what I wanted to hear," growled Vartolius Xax, his eyes narrowing and his knuckles white as he gripped the armrests of his chair. Xelius Pulnix looked wary.

"But…there's no getting around it, I suppose," sighed the dictator. "Have those repairs made as soon as possible, or I guarantee it will be the worse for you."

"Absolutely, sir," said Xelius Pulnix, and hastily scampered away.

Xelius Pulnix turned to look at a mirror hanging from the wall. He contemplated his reflection, the light playing on his square jaw and hollow cheeks. "I sense the end is near," he muttered. "Everyone else has fallen to me. How much time have you academics got left?"

iii.
New Edgelands

"Ah, Verticule,"thought the emaciated fourthling, as a nightwaif entered his cell. He could not help but notice that the tray the waif was bearing held nearly twice as much food as usual. "To what do I owe this generosity?"

"Kilfitresse is feeling charitable," replied Verticule. We need to talk.

The prisoner looked up, startled. It was most unusual for a waif to communicate his underthoughts to him, and what was more, the tone of Verticule's thoughts was like nothing he had heard since his incarceration all those years ago.

Of all the waif jailers who regularly brought food and water to him, Verticule was the most mysterious. Most of the waifs expressed nothing but contempt and indignation as they cast their gaze upon him, but Verticule's expression was always blank, and impossible to read.

"If this is meant to be private, how can we prevent others from listening to my responses?" thought the fourthling in reply.

"Enjoy your feast," thought Verticule in response. You needn't worry. The others rarely cast their ears in this direction. Even if they do, I shall give my responses in ways that will allay any suspicion.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" asked the figure, confused and a little apprehensive.

"Don't go expecting a treat like this every day. It's not easy to conduct food raids, so we're always tight on supplies."Someday, I promise you that you will be free.

"Excuse me?" thought the figure right back, utterly stupefied. He had never seen the slightest sign of compassion from any of the waifs in New Edgelands. And now this, straight out of the blue.

"You needn't take that tone about it; you surely know by now that food is scarce in New Edgelands." My compatriots, filled only with fear and rage, have never troubled to look into your mind. But I have, and I have seen so much. Courage and strength, kindness of heart, love and loss…

"But how are you going to do it?" said the figure.

"Same as always; sneak attacks on Deepwoods grain silos, or, if we can find a tree with edible fruit, gather from the woods themselves." I do not know. My fellows would immediately discover it. They would kill me as a traitor. But I will continue to think about the situation; see if I can make a plan.

"Thank you. Thank you so much!" said the ancient fourthling, tears of joy sliding down his face.

"Sup well," replied Verticule, turning to leave. I will find a way.