With young Aldari’s portal closed, and the leader and motivating force behind the Vortex gone, lost in the void of interplanetary space, the Hand of Fortune took a moment to breathe. The boy himself was resisting his parent’s attempts to smother him with parental concern, squirming from their grasp and doing his best to look cool and grown-up.

“We’re going to have to have a serious discussion about that boy,” Mariala murmured to Vulk as they watched the little family drama unfold.

“Oh yes,” he agreed. “But now probably isn’t the time… but soon, because I suspect the Council will have some thoughts on the subject, and we should probably present a united front.”

Once they had assured themselves that the magma pit and its strange energies were again under control and in no danger of tearing open an inter-dimensional breach, the Hand wearily headed back up the levels to return to the Star Council. But they found only Lord Kavyn and Master Vetaris when they reentered the circular transfer chamber.

“The others have withdrawn to another, more comfortable chamber, to fully recover” Vetaris explained. He added, very quietly, to Vulk, Mariala, and Devrik alone, “They are somewhat… concerned, let us say… that you have seen the entire Council together. Few of our agents, and even fewer outsiders, have ever done so, and it has rather upset them, I afraid.”

“Yes, they were talking about memory wipes and such before they were even able to properly stand,” Lord Kavyn added drily and equally quietly.

“You mean while we were off saving not just their asses, but the entire world?” Devrik growled. The look on his face would’ve made anyone back up a step or two, but the Imperial Myrmytron just shrugged.

“They were understandably shaken, given our recent ordeal, and their brains are perhaps not… fully up to speed. Kiril and I managed to talk them down—“

“We don’t even know their names,” Mariala interrupted indignantly. “It’s not like we could identify them unless we ran into them at the local butcher shop one day!”

“Yes, as Kiril pointed out to them,” Lord Kavyn continued, unperturbed. “I emphasized the very slippery moral slope they proposed to start down, and cooler heads soon prevailed. You need not worry about any such action by the Council.

“But we do need to start examining this facility very thoroughly… after you’ve filled us in on what has transpired with Alvira. We’ll settle your wife and son in comfortable quarters, Ser Devrik, then join the others for a full report on—“

“Ha! Got it!” Toran cried from across the room, drawing everyone’s attention. Between the squatting Khundari and the kneeling Erol, the clockwork Captain Renaült was sitting up, if somewhat unsteadily. His metal form was dented, scraped, and in one spot sparking, but he appeared more-or-less functional.

“I knew there had to be some sort of revivification switch,” Toran went on, in obvious self-satisfaction. “It was just a matter of finding it. And I’m pretty sure I can patch up all this damage, Essa, given the tools in this place…”

“That, too will have to wait,” Master Vetaris said as the two friends helped the clockwork man to his feet. “In fact, if you feel yourself up to it, Captain, I would feel much better leaving Raven and Aldari in their rooms if your were with them, to stand guard. No telling what mischief, or worse, may still be loose in this place!”

Half an hour later, with Raven and Aldari settled in surprisingly spacious living quarters and Captain Renaült posted outside, the Hand met with the Star Council. They had found a large space, already equipped with an impressively long table, and managed to scrape together an odd mish-mash of chairs, stools and benches to seat everyone. With the ten members of the Council, minus only the Telnori king of Servia, on one side of the board, the Hand arrayed themselves along the other and began their tale.

It was more than three turns of the glass before the meeting ended, as the various councilors had many questions, not just about the day’s events, but about the many events that had led up to them. Mariala noted that more than one councilor seemed to share her concern over young Aldari Askalan’s amazing powers, but all retained enough sense not to bring it up for the moment — Devrik was not looking particularly receptive, however much he was managing to be civil.

Once the meeting was finally over, all sixteen men and women divided up the task of exploring and cataloguing the strange island base between them, in teams of two. Mariala was matched with Master Vetaris, while Korwin found himself teamed with Lord Kavyn. Vulk and Devrik set off to explore the outer reaches of the island, while Toran and Erol explored the deeper areas of the base. The Hand had no idea who teamed with who amongst the rest of the Council, since they knew no names.

It was Mariala and Kiril Vetaris who found the dead body of Alvira Vetaris in a luxuriously appointed suite of rooms on what was obviously meant to be a level fo living quarters. The old mage looked sad, despite the danger his mother had meant to not only the world but to his own life and safety. But he said no word about his personal feelings, and was quickly back to all business.

“It appears her body has been dead for the better part of a tenday, I’d say.” He examined the corpse closely, but didn’t touch it. “It’s only the cool, very dry air in this place that’s kept it this well preserved.”

They scoured the chambers and recovered several volumes of what appeared to be personal journals, as well as reams of other papers, books, and scrolls. Much of it, especially the journals and research materials, was in cypher, but much of the day-to-day running of the Vortex organization was not. They piled it into several large chests they found, and carted it all back to the meeting room… although Mariala noticed that Kiril kept the journals separate.

Two floors above Alvira’s quarters, Korwin and Lord Kavyn likewise discovered the brain-dead, and apparently soulless, body of Prince Quorün. His body was slouched in an ornate, fur-draped chair that was just this side of being a throne, a strange metal helm on his head. It covered his eyes and was connected by thick cables to a large machine, clearly more of the same old-Earth technology they’d already encountered elsewhere in the facility.

Drawing off the helmet, Kavyn looked into the wide, staring eyes for several minutes, two fingers touching each of the man’s temples. Quorün’s breathing continued slow and shallow, and he gave no sign of being aware of his visitors. With a deep sigh, Kavyn let his hands fall as he stepped back.

“There’s nothing in there, I’m afraid. No trace of a mind – or soul, if you will – is left in this body. I think all that he was got transferred into that mechanical body, and died when you blasted his synthetic brain out his back, Korwin.”

“Err… sorry?” Korwin ventured, although he didn’t feel any particularl regret. It had been him or that bastard in the moment, after all and he was certainly glad he wasn’t dead.

“Oh, no need to be,” Lord Kavyn assured him with a knowing half-smile that left the water mage wondering exactly how much of his thought the man could read. “No question of self defense, and the man was a traitor and murderer many times over… and, after all, this may have been for the best.”

At Korwin’s inquiring look he added, “This could never have gone to a public trial, you see – far too many deep secrets, both arcane and mundane. But to have executed an Imperial Prince, for no apparent reason as far as the public could see… no, it is certainly much less messy this way. I think, Korwin, the Emperor himself will thank you for your actions.”

The Prince’s rooms were even larger, and far more lavishly appointed, than Alvira’s, and it took the pair a full turn of the glass to examine it thoroughly. In the end there proved far less documentary evidence to collect, beyond the man’s personal journal; which, thankfully, was not in any kind of cypher.

“Ah, this also simplifies things,” Kavyn said, scanning quickly through the more recent entries. “I had feared his father, King Lindeth of Kashula, was a part of this plot, but Quorün writes here of the need to dispatch his father early on, once the plan was in motion, so that he could ascend the throne… apparently a “riding accident” was to be the method… hmm, not a bad idea, actually…”

“What, killing King Lindeth?” Korwin said in surprise. “I know the Three Kingdoms have historically been troublesome, but—“

“No, no,” chuckled the Mymytron. “I meant the method. I think when my agents sneak the Prince’s not-quite-corpse back to Kashula in the next few days, we’ll arrange just exactly this little riding accident for him. It seems an appropriately symmetrical justice, for him to suffer the same fate he intended for his father, I think.”

Korwin just grinned in response, nodding his head in approval as he returned to checking the last few alcoves and chests left unexamined. Lord Kavyn continued to flip through the journal for a few minutes before again drawing Korwin’s attention with a chuckle.

“Well, my young friend, I think this will be of some interest to you,” Kavyn said, pointing to a section of text. “This quite definitively proves that your old friend Kharmet Genokir, the Lord Governor of the Syklian Islands, was involved up to his fat neck in this plot of Alvira and Prince Quorün.

“We, that is Gil-Garon and I, had always felt he’d been involved, forty years ago, in the usurpation plot that killed the old Emperor and led to Gil-Garon’s long exile. But he was much younger then, of course, and a fairly minor noble, not yet an Imperial Governor. He proved to be far enough on the periphery of the treason that he escaped official charges… if not some lingering suspicion.”

“But won’t he escape punishment again,” Korwin asked, scanning the entry. “If this whole plot can’t be made public, how can you make any charges stick?”

“I would never take action against a man merely on suspicion, and nor would the Emperor. Which is why Genokir was allowed to inherit his title and position as Governor, on the death of his own father, despite our lingering doubts. But now, knowing that he has been involved in not one, but two, treasons, I will have no compunction at all in fabricating an utterly airtight case against the bastard… and seeing him hanged.”

“Ah, well, you’ll get no objection from me,” Korwin said, handing back the journal. “Do you suppose I could get a seat at the execution?”

• • • • • •

By the third day, most of the Star Council was ready to return to their various homes and their own interrupted lives. They confiscated all of Alvira Ketaris’ arcane materials, including her seven grimoires and dozens of research notes, but at Master Vetaris’ request left her personal journals in the care of Mariala, for decrypting. The young mage promised to deliver a translated version to the Council as soon as she could, through her old mentor.

The last day the Council spent on the hidden island was mostly taken up in debate over what to do with the clockwork army of the defunct Vortex. A few were for destroying them, along with all knowledge involved in their construction and most especially of the mind transference technology. But the majority were adamantly opposed to this, as it was clear from Captain Renaült’s testimony, which proved that the human victims lived on inside the mechanical forms.

“The clockwork technology itself is more an extension of several existing crafts and skills,” the beautiful, exotic-looking woman with the almond eyes and burnished ivory skin pointed out. “Without the mind transference machinery, however, which is of old Co-Dominion make and located only here is this hidden place, the ability to build these automatons is minor. But more importantly, we will not commit mass murder by destroying those souls already entrapped in these terrible forms!”

In the end, it was agreed to leave the matter in the hands of the Mymytron, who swore that he would find a way to restore the victims, if not into their old, now long gone bodies, then into new one’s grown in the “cloning tanks” they’d discovered on the island. It would be a project of years, no doubt, but in the meantime, they would remain asleep and unaware.

The last item the Council covered before gating out was the fate of the island itself. Lord Kavyn and Master Vetaris were tasked with renewing the ancient shields that hid the place form outside notice, thereby ensuring no one else would stumble across it. They also tabled, for the moment, the idea of the Star Council taking the island as their own base in the future, once it was made safe.

Once the last of the eight departing Councilors hand vanished through the Gate, Lord Kavyn turned to Captain Renaült and laid a hand on his cold, metallic shoulder.

“I know I have promised to grow new bodies for the victims of this terrible crime, my friend… but I think in your case I might be able to do better. Is it true that your ship still remains, essentially intact, in the belly of the great whale-island-ship?”

“It is, milord,” the mechanical man replied. “The dismantling stopped once the controlling machinery was shut down. I went aboard yesterday, just to… well, I’m not sure… just to remember my old life, I suppose. I retrieved a few mementos…”

“I don’t suppose one of those was a hairbrush?” The Mymytron asked, suddenly rather excited. “Or any bits of clothing?”

“Well, no,” the captain sounded puzzled, though of course his face could show no expression. “Both such items would be of no use to me now… I left them where they were, and took only my sea logs and some rings…”

“Ah, but they do exist? A hair bush would be best, but even some clothing might work!“ Lord Kavyn was grinning now. “If you can get me those items, I think it is quite likely that I can recover enough genetic material to grow an exact copy of your old body!”

The members of the Hand, listening closely to this exchange, all looked as blank as Renaült.

“Gen-et-tic?” Vulk repeated the unfamiliar word. “I’m not sure—“

“It’s not important,” Kavyn said, waving an excited hand. “I’ll explain it in detail when we have more time. For now, just get me those items and, in about a year, I’ll have a new body to download your soul into… and a body just like you had at age 25, to boot!”

Both facial expression and body language were beyond the mechanical body Essa Renaült now wore, but somehow everyone in the room sensed his disappointment. “A.. a year, milord? Oh, well that would be wonderful, truly, if it can be done… it’s just that, for a moment, I thought you meant, well, something sooner…”

Lord Kavyn’s excitement faded, and he looked slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Essa, I got so caught up in the possibilities… the ancient machines that allow for the growing of new bodies from, um, from small bits of older ones, is miraculously swift, compared to the usual method of making bodies. But it’s not instantaneous, I’m afraid. I’m sorry if I got your hopes up.”

“No need for apologies, milord, truly! That it can be done at all is beyond my wildest hope – I had resigned myself, these past few days, to this cold, strange existence; to never seeing my wife or children again, to never feeling again.” Despite the mechanical monotone of his artificial voice, his feeling came through clearly. “So I would be an ungrateful wretch indeed to complain if this miracle takes a little longer than I might wish!”

He returned in short order with his old hairbrush and all of his old clothes. Lord Kavyn took them and disappeared into one of the strange chambers on the “science level,” as he called it. No one saw him again for almost a day…

The seven days after the majority of the Star Council had departed were filled with further exploration and cataloging of both the underground base and the island of Teshunir itself. Mostly this was done under the direction of Master Vetaris, as Lord Kavyn was closeted for long stretches in the “cloning lab,” working to understand the machinery there and get it properly functioning.

On the tenth day after the death of Alvira and the final defeat of her Vortex organization, the Hand prepared to depart themselves. But two last surprises awaited them.

“I won’t be going with you,” Korwin announced at their last dinner. “Lord Kavyn has offered to take me on as an apprentice, to study this new convocation of electricity under his guidance. With my status in the Empire again on solid ground, or soon to be, this isn’t an opportunity I can pass up.

“I want to thank you all for your comradeship, which has taught me so much, and for your friendship, which I hope I will continue to enjoy even if I am no longer in your lives day-to-day. I’m a better man for having known you all, and please believe that I will miss every one of you very much.”

Everyone expressed their sadness at his departure, even as they understood the reasons for it. But Lord Kavyn looked at their expressions and raised a mug — the Prince had certainly had good taste in both beer and wine – and laughed.

“Come, come, it’s not so dire as all that,” he said. “This isn’t the last meal you’ll share with your friend, since you’ll be sailing on to Avantir, where we shall meet you in one month.

“I know he’s looking forward to showing his friends around the greatest city on Novendo, and I certainly hope you’ll all be spending some time there, beyond our official meetings with the Emperor. And if you do, I’ll certainly allow my new student the time to act as your local guide.”

“On that note, milord, I have a request,” Captain Renaült spoke up. As usual, he had joined them for dinner, for although he could not actually eat, he enjoyed the company and conversation. “I know you have offered to let me stay on, as my new body grows, but I must confess, I do not think I have the stomach for it. If you will allow, and the Hand of Fortune is not averse to it, I would ask to accompany them on their voyage to Avantir. I know the Archipelago as well as any man, and would gladly take the place of Master Korwin as native guide.”

Lord Kavyn gave his agreement willingly enough, and the Hand seemed quite enthused at the prospect… although it was young Aldari who was unabashedly excited at the news. He’d been fascinated by the clockwork man ever since he’d freed him and his mother from their cells in the belly of monster ship, and in the last tenday the two had developed something of a rapport. Raven rather suspected Aldari reminded the poor man of his own son, who she knew was about the same age.

So it was that the next morning Vulk, Mariala, Devrik, Erol, Toran, Raven, Aldari and their new clockwork companion waved farewell to Korwin, Master Vetaris, and Lord Kavyn and stepped through the Gate on Teshunir…

…and exited the Gate in the courtyard of the Fellowship House outside the port of Cumor, on the Telnori island of Sydon. The Wind of Kasira could be seen from the hilltop, still at anchor in the middle of the small harbor. Thanks to Mariala’s entangled paper Captain K’Jurol had been kept abreast of the Hand’s continued existence, and of their promised return. Repairs to the ship were completed, and they knew she was ready to sail on the next tide.

The crew seemed genuinely pleased to see their ship’s owners back, with mother and child safe and sound, and Physician Ar’Hanol seemed especially pleased to see Lady Mariala returned unscathed. They were all taken aback, however, by the presence in their midst of one of the clockwork monsters that had attacked the ship little more than a tenday earlier.

Vulk’s speech to the ship’s company, reinforced as it was by just a touch of Abon’s Authority, settled the crew down enough for the story (insofar as they could tell it) to sink in. Once they understood that it really was the former master of the Aldetha Star, a man many of them had known or at least met, trapped by treachery in this terrible form, they quickly came around.

Surprisingly, Captain K’Jorul was less easy to reassure than his crew. But his main concern was having another captain aboard, even one so strange as Renaült, not his form. However, in the first several days of sailing the clockwork man made it clear that he suffered no confusion about his role aboard the Wind – he was scrupulous about staying out of the Captain’s way on deck, never presumed to give anyone an order, and offered his help wherever and in whatever way it might be useful, without regard to if the job was “beneath” an officer. His tremendous strength and willingness to pitch in soon fully endeared him to the crew, and eventually soothed K’Jorul’s worries.

For the next two tendays the Wind of Kasira sailed the northern islands of the Empire. The crew had long adopted the rather absent-minded but amiable Ser Bizwyk as a sort of mascot, and no one objected to letting the lanky naturalist set the itinerary for the leisurely voyage. He had enjoyed his extended stay on the island of Sydon, roaming the hills and forests, collecting specimens of birds, insects and small animals, sketching the flora and fauna, and writing extensive notes in the many blank books he’d brought with him.

Now he made the most of the ship’s visits to Avera, Elopia and Charia (the westernmost of the Three Kingdoms), Quensyn (the easternmost of the Three Kingdoms), and Dyama. His only disappointment came when the Hand firmly squashed his desire to visit Kashula and/or Dekathi, the principal islands of the central of the Three Kingdoms.

“But the variations in the ring-tailed sparrow between Eolopia and Quensyn,” he tried once more to wheedle the owners-aboard as they sailed the passage between Quensyn and Kashula, his last-chance shot. “If only I had the opportunity to study the birds on Kashula, it could prove absolutely critical in confirming my theory—“

“I’m sorry, Ser Bizwyk,” Vulk reiterated for what felt like the hundredth time in a tenday, “ there are… political considerations at the moment that make it… untenable for us to visit the Kingdom of Kashula just now.”

“But, as we heard when we were on Eolopia,” the naturalist pressed on, “Kashula has recently lost their Crown Prince in that unfortunate riding accident. Surely, with the country in mourning, whatever these political matters might be would be, um, abrogated? At least long enough for us to make a small expedition—“

“NO!” Vulk, Mariala and Toran all said at once, causing the young nobleman to blink rather owlishly.

“Oh, well, if you’re absolutely sure, of course…”

Fortunately the naturalist was mollified after their visit to Dyama, where he found yet another variation of the ring-tailed sparrow that quite excited him…

••••••

The day after the Wind left Dyama, crossing the Arlin Bay, she docked in the port city of Kalyon, and the Hand of Fortune set foot for the first time on Great Oceania, the largest and namesake island of the Archipelago.

“Well, you all may as well enjoy the pleasures of the city,” Captain K’Jorul told his patrons after meeting with the Port Master. “We’ll be here for at least a day, maybe two.”

“I thought we’d agreed to head up the River Kilnost as soon as possible,” Toran said, frowning. He was more excited than any of his friends at the prospect of their next landmark – the legendary Ahlürok Canal, running beneath the Kilnost Hills and through the great subterranean Khundari city of Ahlürok, both of them marvels of his people’s skills.

“As soon as possible turns out to be the problem, ser,” the Captain sighed. “The Canal is one of the busiest waterways in the Empire, but the locks can only handle so much traffic at a time. Despite that Imperial pass you have, we’ll still have to wait our turn, I’m afraid.”

With nothing to be done about it, the Hand decided to take their Captain’s advice and enjoy the pleasures the bustling port city offered, while Ser Bizwyk took the opportunity to make a trip into the countryside, with Captain Renaült along to cary his gear. The two had formed an unexpected friendship over the course of the past tendays, much to the surprise of most of the others.

Devrik and his family, at the excited insistence of Aldari once he’d learned of it, headed for the central square of the city, where an annual festival celebrating children and their toys was in its third and final day.

Vulk, Mariala, and Toran, joined by Physician Ar’Hanol, decided to seek out a decent inn or tavern, preferably one that served something besides seafood.

“And a decent beer would be nice,” Vulk laughed as they made their way along the docks. “I appreciate Captain K’Jorul’s wine collection, and his willingness to share, but—“

“Sometimes you just want a good brew,” a familiar voice finished his sentence. “Well, it really is small world, isn’t it! Fancy running into you lot here!”

Vulk’s eyes widened in surprise as he whirled around to confront the last person he’d expected to see…