22. Infiltration
General Summary
Full Scene
The Merlin arrives at Taifun relatively early in the morning, around 8:00. It's a crazy place. The earthmote is so covered in docks, scaffolds, and covered berths for repair that it looks like it's constructed entirely of wooden struts and boards, it bristles with piers and the traffic around it looks like swarming insects from a distance.
As they approach. a wind elemental approaches the vessel's prow to guide it through the traffic. Pulling up to the pier, it looks like a crowded, open-air airport. Wooden catwalks and decks ring each other and overlap, naught but sky on their other sides. Buildings are just as likely to be sticking out over the open air as built between layers of boardwalk or dug into the earthmote. Every walkway and much of the airspace is thick with traffic of all description.
The party disembarks from the Merlin with thanks for the transport and directions to a skiff rental. As they head down the gangpank, Mirage waves back with a big grin. "Bye Jamie! Catch you later!"
Jamie gives a wave and a smile, "You know where to find me!"
Mirage keeps a tight hand on Toby's halter as they move off the pier. Saeldor guides them to a place as close to the centre of the structure as possible, one of the main-causeways, a wooden path that wraps the perimeter of the dock, interrupted by ladders and stairs in places to move to upper or lower docks.
"Quite a crossroads," Ta'lok observes, "Could be a good place to get some more intel."
“What’s the plan, Captain?” Mirage asks.
Ta'lok nods toward a building crammed between two mooring scaffolds, which features a foaming mug on its door sign, "Anyone thirsty?"
Saeldor, who is definitely not looking forward to Airship 2: The Same But Smaller, agrees immediately, and they head inside. Mirage hesitates at the door, looking at her beloved pegasus.
"I can stay outside with him," Cri offers, understanding he trepidition immediately.
Relieved, Mirage nods, handing Cri his lead and following the others inside.
The party splits as they enter, seeking out different points of interest. Mirage makes conversation with another air genasi named Brayan, a history teacher on sabbatical. Amir's name is not familiar, but the crest she describes on his soldiers is. It's an old family crest with a long history in the Teeth of the Wind. There was some fuss over it about five years ago, when an officer of that lineage was ostensibly responsible for a pretty important action against the Ignean slave trade going badly wrong.
This officer, always kept from field work in the past, had failed to cover the exfiltrators' retreat, causing an absolute slaughter. Some more objective voices blamed inexperience and poor selection, potentially even nepotism, but many others claimed the problem was cowardice.
Because the Teeth don't keep a lot of registries, it's difficult to find first-hand accounts. Even knowing what specific charges this officer was discharged for is dubious; they range from gross incompetence to cowardice, abandoning post, and reckless endangerment.
With a lot to mull over, Mirage thanks him for the story and takes her leave. She finds a seat by a window where she can see Cri and Toby outside. Cri is chatting with a songbird that has landed on Toby's back.
Cypher slides into a seat across from her after a moment.
"Learn anything good?"
"Primarily that speaking Infernal is not a great way to make friends here," he cringes. Glancing around the building, Mirage can see more than one person eyeing the human with varying degrees of misgiving.
"I did overhear some interesting things, though," he adds.
"Oh?"
"Save it for - ope, hey boss. What'd you get?"
Ta'lok and Saeldor return at the same time, exchange glances before Saeldor gestures for the boss to go first.
"Logistics, mostly," he says, sounding not displeased at all. "Directions to the palace and some details about the operations of his personal forces; their barracks is about a half hour's regular flight or 15 minutes rushing the palace, which is built like a fort and is also his residence. He's split the construction between decent fortifications and popular ornamental architecture - lots of open balconies and windows." He looks meaningfully at Mirage, who's nodding, "Airspace is probably patrolled, but if we run distraction, that gives us multiple options for point-of-entry."
"Speaking of design," Saeldor hops in, putting down his draind (already!) tankard at the edge of the table and wiping the foam from his lip, "He's been doing some odd redecorating. I spoke with a botanist who'd just come from installing as much plant life as could fit - pots and raised flowerbeds on the battlements, trees and ground beds in the courtyard. Not as many ornamentals as you'd think, either. Wild plants, entire ecosystems."
Cypher is frowning, "Where'd he get them?"
"Hiring a botanist. One of a few, from what I gathered, but the fellow I talked to was leading the project."
"Huh. Regular botanist? Not a druid or anything?"
"No, I think he would have said. Why? What'd you get."
Cypher's tracing the wood grain of the table, frowning at it. "He's been putting out job offers for magical expertise, preferring anyone with extradimensional experience. That doesn't narrow things down much between the fey bullshit before and the infernal tattoo work, though."
Murmurs of concerned agreement. The party finishes their drinks and collects Cri and Toby on the way out. Cri supplies that Amir has a couple of tamed Perytons guarding his airspace, as well as a lot of his personal guard having flight options similar to Mirage's.
Ta'lok leads the way to a skiff rental. The ship, an open-decked vessel with a rear cabin and a hold large enough to sleep four plus cargo, is painted a teal-green, with silvery letters engraved in its hull.
The ship, the dockmaster explains, will return on its own when the rental period expires. The fee does include coverage for any minor damages incurred, but their personal information is required for liability purposes should it come back in a wreck. After Saeldor assures privately that this merchant is neither fey nor fiend and Mirage confirms that this practice is fairly normal, the party signs off.
Mirage drives. Ta'lok riding shotgun and observing. He's driven a variety of vehicles, but his experience with airships is minimal. He gives directions that, as he figured she would, make more sense to Mirage than they do to him.
As they cruise through the open blue skies, the party reviews their strategy. The state of their plan is still mostly debate. Cypher is fully and firmly on the side of treating it like a B&E, both because it does not require splitting the party and it keeps Amir at a distance from Mirage. On the other hand, Saeldor advocates, as always, for giving someone a chance to speak for themselves before bringing the hammer down. Ta'lok to a decreasing extent agrees, and Cri, who has options in both a straight fight and a stealth mission, has no tactical horse in the race as long as Marwa feels safe.
Eventually, it comes down to Mirage's call.
She's thinking hard, drumming her fingers on the navigation wheel. Then she glances backward at the warlock.
"Can you do telepathy? Speak to us silently? At distance?"
A frown, then, guarded, "Why? What's your play?"
"Okay, so. I'm open to feedback, but here's what I was thinking. If a contingent meets with Amir, if you feel like you have enough to keep him distracted for a while, that gives me time to rifle through his stuff. He may have information you can glean just from talking to him, seems like the kind of guy to boast, you know?"
Saeldor smiles at her, proud.
"And if you need to get a hold of me, Cypher - you can just..." She taps her temple.
Cypher opens his mouth with a face that says its for a "yeah but-", but changes his mind, gears spinning.
"Cri goes with you," he says, with no tone for debate.
Mirage thinks, splitting her glances between them, considering. Then she asks, "Do you need a translator? Do we know if he speaks Common?"
Ta'lok considers this.
"Because Cri and I are the only ones who speak Aurian," Mirage clarifies.
"We didn't have any trouble using Common in Taifun," Ta'lok notes, "but from what you said this guy's a bit.... he might have stronger feelings about which language to use than most."
"That was my thought, yeah." Setting their course straight as they enter a wide stretch of open air, Mirage locks the wheel and turns to face her friends better.
"If he's got a personal army that size, he should have a way to communicate... unless he speaks Aurian to his officers and they translate it downward," Cypher defeats his own logic halfway through.
She looks at Cri. "I really can do this. I promise. I'm quieter alone."
"Well if Cri's on distraction for translation then-" Cypher cuts his statement off when Mirage says 'alone,' visibly confused.
"Wh- no, what?"\"Oh - wait, are you?" (simultaneous)
There's a brief pause before Cypher speaks again. "I know I'm third fiddle for sneaking, but, well, not to put too fine a point on it but I feel like you all grossly underestimate how many times I've gone unmissed."
Saeldor looks disappointed, Cri looks sad. Mirage looks disapproving. Nobody reprimands him, but their expressions are telling. Cypher plows past it.
"At the very least if stealth fails I have a quiet way of shutting shit down before bells go off"
Mirage breaks the silence with a small smirk. "Think you can keep up?"
She was looking at him when she said it, but suddenly she's not sure what she was looking at. Her gaze keeps sliding sideways, onto Cri, or the rigging.
"I don't know," a self-satisfied voice asks from nowhere she can name, "Can I?"
Sudden awareness of a presence behind her, a voice next to her ear.
"Boo."
She jumps, startled, whips around to see the snarkiest grin.
"You handle the locks and I'll watch your back, yeah?"
She grins back.
"Let's do this."
"Hell yeah."
Behind them, Ta'lok gives Saeldor an incredulous "was it this unsubtle the whole time?" face that's returned by a silent, deadpan, 'YUP.'
Cri just has a soft smile. "Look out for each other." She says.
Seeming to remember that there are in fact other people around, Cypher turns to give her a smiling, one-shouldered shrug. " 'course."
Then, to Ta'lok, "Are we sticking with looking-for-work as a distraction?"
The minotaur looks to Mirage, who says "I think start with that, and if he gives you the brush off, you can always mention me to keep him hooked."
The boss nods. "We need some sort of signal when it's time to leave. Nimbus?"
Mirage looks at her familiar, who crackles with static and zips a short circle around her head.
"Yeah, he can do it."
"I don't love acting on a plan without sleeping on it," Ta'lok grumbles, "But we're already headed there and I don't want to risk being ratted out if you're spotted at an Inn."
"So it's Mirage and Cypher on sneaking duty, and the three of us on distraction?" Saeldor clarifies, indicating himself, Ta'lok, and Cri at this last point.
"Seems that way. How're we going to split you off, though?" Ta'lok's heavy-browed gaze is focused on the flightless, flying-carpetless, human warlock. "Mirage can use her glider, but..."
For a moment, said warlock is the uncomfortable subject of several considering looks.
Then, flying alongside the ship, a neigh cuts through the quiet, and Mirage's eyes widen.
"Toby!"
It takes her a second to catch her drift, and dread colours his face as she explains, already calling the pegasus to the deck, an undisguised hesitation that's easy to clock.
She smirks. "Still keeping up?"
He opens his mouth to speak and shuts it again, some internal debate drawing his mouth into a tight line, but he reaches a decision pretty quickly.
"That depends. I mean, you saw where I grew up, how much experience do you think I have with this kind of thing. If all I have to do is hold on, that should be okay, I guess." He gives Toby a scrutinizing look like 'You gonna drop me?'
Cri translates, explaining that Cypher doesn't know how to ride, so Toby will have to do the navigating, which is as simple as following Mirage in her glider, and he might have to be patient if he's a bit of an uncomfortable passenger.
Toby tosses his head and blows through his horsey lips like "of course it'll be uncomfy too."
"Now, Toby," Mirage croons, holding his head and stroking his velvety face, "I know Cypher may SEEM icky" she gives Cypher a shit-eating side-eye, "but on the inside he's really a very nice, good person. If you agree to take him on your back you can have as many sugar cubes as you want, and we'll take time to go for a run later. How does that sound?"
Cri informs her that Toby says he will never understand her taste in friends, but he'll agree because she is perfect and makes no wrong decisions ever.
"You are a perfect boy, I love you to the moon and back," she smiles, scritching his nose.
The rest of the trip passes quickly; Amir's palace is not far from Taifun. Before they get within easy sighting range, Mirage sends Nimbus out scouting, and selects a landing zone for herself and Cypher to rendezvous while the others pull up to the main dock.
Unfolding her glider, she gives Toby one last round of scritches and forehead-kisses before he kneels on the deck to help Cypher aboard, rolling his large blue eyes at the human's touch.
Mirage goes first, using Auria's natural winds as well as her own to draw a swift beeline between patrols.
Behind them, Cypher hesitates, Toby is waiting for a signal to go, but they'll make a large target, more easily spotted than Mirage and slower, to boot.
"You understand common, right?" he asks, looking down at Toby, who tosses his head as if to say "of course I do, I'm not stupid," an interpretation that Cri confirms.
He chooses his words carefully.
"If we get seen, it'll put Marwa in danger. Neither of us want that. I can't make you faster - not that you need the help," he adds immediately, "but I can make us harder to see. It might feel strange. I need you to just keep flying, focus on just getting there, okay?"
Toby turns his head, eyeing the human with deep suspicion, before giving a single nod and launching into the air.
Taking a breath and gripping for his life, Cypher begins casting his distortion over both of them. Moments later, Mirage is scanning the skies for them when the sound of an untrained human attempting to dismount an impatient pegasus draws he gaze to the side.
Cypher dusts himself off while Mirage instructs Toby to stay put in this blind spot, and to fly as far and fast as he can if anyone besides her or Nimbus comes. Toby, who is beginning to fancy himself something of a war horse, agrees, and the humanoids turn their gazes to their first obstacle: the wall of Amir's fortress.
Two djinni-size storeys of stone brick. The upper limit of Mirage's floating abilities, and pushing the edges of Cypher's climbing. As he eyes the distance, he thinks back to Midnight, climbing over and across everything, shortcuts piled on shortcuts.
When did I start to be a liability for this kind of thing?
Scouting the options, Mirage selects a flat tower-top in the northwest corner, and floats up to secure a line for him to climb.
He tests the rope. It's secure. He eyes the wall. It's not mirror-smooth. Good enough for boots. If his arms fail him, he can try to launch himself the rest of the way, like he did on the mountain, but the aim is imprecise, and he'd rather not. Mirage waits at the top, counting down seconds until the next guard patrol, ready to cushion a fall.
No, I'm not dragging you down.
It's just a wall. With a rope. I've climbed higher with less.
Lets fucking GO.
When he pulled himself, sweating and breathing hard, over the top of the wall, Mirage re-coiled the rope while he caught his breath. She was looking at him when he stood up, cracked his next, and failed to keep the pride out of his half-smile.
"Where next?"
Mirage smiles, then reviews their options. Some circular stairs descending to the second floor, and a door in the flat, south wall of the semicircular tower-top. She indicates the door, floating soundlessly over to listen for occupants while Nimbus slipped beneath to give her visuals.
She hears the shuffle of footsteps, the clinking of glass or maybe ceramic, but not of armour. Nimbus sends her visuals: broad, feathery wings, tawny hair in a tight braid, cold blue eyes that flash her mind back to a table pressing into her back, cold steel on her wrists, searing pain on her ankle.
She gasps, stepping back from the door, eyes wide, hand over her mouth.
"He did my tattoo."
A hand on her shoulder guides her backward a step. She feels light; it takes her a second to realize she can't feel the wind on her skin, the unblocked sun, or even the fingers that she can see are still moving her carefully away from the door.
Cypher's voice is a soft whisper, but that's wrong too - she doens't hear it, she just knows the sound is there.
""Okay," he says, keeping his eyes trained on the door, "We don't have to go in this way. It's just one?"
She speaks, doesn't feel her own tongue or teeth, “Yeah. No armour.” only knows she made sound outside of thought by the answering nod.
He cracks a half-smile. "No sweat, then." But then his gaze flicks skyward before turning to her, studying her face. "Listen,
"I really don't want to rush you but we need to decide quick. I swore you'd be safe, and I meant it, but its your call. In or down?"
She grinds her teeth and murmurs “down,” heading for the stairs behind them. He goes on her heels.
She gets below floor level just in time to hear the door behind them squeak open. Cypher has to duck.
"Hover" he says, a hissing whisper. She does, and sensation returns as he shifts the distortion to cover his footsteps.
They rush a full rotation of the stairs, then pause, listening.
With no sound of pursuit, Cypher drops his distortion, reappearing at her side.
"Sorry - I couldn't think of another way to hide you."
She puts a hand on his shoulder and says on an exhale "Thank you."
The stairs have let out into some kind of small library or study. Her eyes magnetize to the door in the east wall. She remembers coming through it, still shackled, demanding her promised freedom from the djinn towering ahead of her. The cold dread filling her stomach when he sneers "not without some assurances."
There's a desk with drawers and some documents on the surface. She shakes herself back to present and beelines for them while Cypher skims bookshelves.
The material on the desk-top is uninteresting - logs of additions to the collection here. She turns her attention to the drawers. One of them is locked, and her investigation notes that it's trapped, too. Some strange writing around the outside of the lock, and the tang of magic in the air around it.
Cypher hasn't found anything of note on the bookshelves and is examining the ledger on the desk. She glances up at him.
"Is the passcode in there?"
"Passcode?" he looks down and sees her squinting at the lock. She moves over to let him have a look. He frowns.
"Infernal."
"Wait," she recognized the letters, though the spelling made no sense, "isn't it Ignean?"
He does a short double-take, refocusing on the lock before answering. "The letters are Ignian. Same alphabet, different language. It's some kind of alarm, my bet is it goes off if the lock's forced, but don't quote me."
“That’s usually how alarms work, yeah. Can you disable it?”
"It's not really my forte..." he's rereading the script, tilting his head to see the bits on bottom
its around the edge of the keyhole like an inverted One Ring. Then he shakes his head, "It looks similar to your tattoo; but knowing what it does doesn't help me get around it."
“I can cut through, bypass the alarm, but it’s loud”
He sits back on his heels, considering.
"How badly do we need in this drawer?" he asks, "Because I can try to distort it to mute the sound, but I've never distorted an area before; I don't know how long I can keep it going."
“If it’s just regular wood, this should take me no time”
"I guess it wouldn't be locked if it wasn't important, huh." Cypher stansd up. "All right, give me a sec. You'll know when to start."
It's weird when a person distorts. It's even weirder when a whole patch of the room feels like it's not actually there, but he's right, she doesn't need a signal.
Controlling her windblade is difficult when she can't keep her eyes on it, and the cut is messy, but eventually the front of the drawer falls away, cushioned by a reflexive updraft.
A smell of sulphur drifts out, making her gag. Inside is a journal, bound in some kind of strange leather. She recoils when she realizes it's skin.
Cypher drops the effect as soon as the windblade's off so you guys can see properly
"What in the f-"
Mirage picks it up carefully, using a sleeve to avoid skin contact. The sulphur smell and creepy skin scan fiendish, for sure; this is good stuff. She's still fighting the urge to run, still hyper-conscious that the tattooist is upstairs. But they haven't found anything to substantiate a connection with the fey yet, and if this journal doesn't mention the reason for her kidnapping or who, if not Amir, is really behind it, then they have no answers.
She scans the available exits. They have to keep looking.
I think Cypher's going to want to snoop more just on the first basis alone
Report Date
25 Feb 2025
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