Chương 42: I call them the fishbones

Certain questions had plagued scholars for centuries. What existed beyond the furthest corners of the sky? What truly happened to the missing Seventh Magi Battalion in the Second Goblin War? And how did Synod students find enough spare time to engage in recreational activities? The first two at least had active research departments. The last one could be answered right now: they simply snuck out of their dormitory after the eleventh bell.

Fabrisse stood behind a hedge that appeared to have been planted specifically to conceal poor decision-making. According to Liene, this particular corner of the campus was completely safe.

"The Night Wardens never come here," she had assured him. Unfortunately, Liene had also considered statements such as'that bridge is probably stable' and'I'm reasonably certain those mushrooms aren't poisonous' to be acceptable standards of evidence. As a result, Fabrisse was currently standing in the dark beside an abandoned tool shed, questioning precisely which decision had been responsible for bringing him here. He should've accepted her pie invitation and left it at that.

A pair of hands suddenly covered his eyes.

"Guess who." Fabrisse sighed.

"The Night Wardens."

"Incorrect."

"Liene." The hands immediately withdrew.

"You guessed too fast. That's no fun." He turned around and took her in. She was dressed differently than she had been earlier, which wasn't surprising. Tonight she wore a dark travelling cloak several sizes too large, a collection of belts that appeared to serve no practical purpose whatsoever, and a pair of knee-high boots that definitely belonged to a profession involving considerably more danger than healing. One sleeve had been rolled up. The other hadn't.

A brass charm in the shape of a star dangled from one ear. She caught him staring and touched her charm.

"This helps with aetheric conversion! Allegedly. You can cast continuous spells faster if you wear it." The ribbon had returned. Worse, it appeared to have brought friends. Several smaller ribbons floated lazily around her shoulders like they were escorting a particularly irresponsible noblewoman. Fabrisse pointed.

"Why are there more of them?"

"They're apprentices."

"To what?"

"The main ribbon. No more questions. We should head out now before the Embermoths go to sleep." Fabrisse doubted that their circadian cycle was similar to humans'. Liene immediately set off without waiting for confirmation. Fabrisse hurried after her. She avoided the main pathways entirely.

Whenever a paved walkway appeared, she crossed it as quickly as possible before disappearing back into grass, shrubbery, or whatever other terrain the Synod's landscape architects had never intended to function as transportation infrastructure.

"Why are we walking like this?" Fabrisse whispered.

"Stealth."

"We're crossing a flowerbed."

"Stealthy flowerbed." That did not answer the question. They passed beneath a row of floating glyphlights suspended above the campus paths. Each orb shed a warm golden glow that illuminated the stone walkways below. Liene immediately veered away from them. Then she veered away from the next set, and the set after that. Soon they were following a route that seemed specifically designed to avoid all forms of sensible navigation. They had been sneaking through shrubbery for nearly ten minutes.

He had yet to see a single Night Warden. In fact, he had yet to see a single person. Fabrisse knew they were approaching the southern gate now. He had passed through it often enough during sanctioned excursions. At their current pace, they couldn't have been more than a few minutes away. Liene suddenly accelerated.

"Why are you walking faster?" He asked. She didn't seem to have heard him. Liene rounded the next corner and disappeared behind a cluster of hedges. Fabrisse followed a moment later.

"Hold it right there!" A voice that was decidedly not Liene's resounded. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. He turned around. A girl was running toward him. She looked roughly his age or perhaps younger, with blond-brown hair tied into an increasingly unsuccessful ponytail. An enchanted notebook floated beside her shoulder, glowing as lines of text continuously scribbled themselves across its pages. A pen hovered beside it like an eager predatory fish.

The girl pointed directly at him.

"You!"

"You!" Oh no. I've been caught. What do I do? Act normal. Normal people existed. He had observed several. What would a normal person do in this situation? Stand still. Pretend to be a lawful citizen. Right. Fabrisse immediately stood as lawfully as possible. The girl skidded to a stop in front of him.

"Yes!" she declared.

"Finally."

"Finally?"

"A new person. Would you mind answering a few questions for the Synod Gazette?" She held up the glowing notebook.

"Don't worry, your response will be completely anonymous. Your name won't be printed. We simply need a representative voice from the criminal community regarding the recent rise in unauthorized nocturnal activities."

"What?" At least she wasn't a Night Warden. Unfortunately, she appeared to be the second most dangerous profession available. A journalist. Liene suddenly reappeared from behind the hedge.

"This is why we crossed the flowerbed! He's not a new face, Celline. He's with me."

"Oh." The journalist visibly deflated.

"It's just you."

"That's not how you greet a friend."

"I've already interviewed you six times this semester." Celline waved a hand.

"The data stopped being representative after the third one. So?" Celline eyed Fabrisse.

"Mind introducing me to him?"

"Well, um..." Liene glanced sideways.

"He's Fabrisse." Fabrisse? Since when did she call him Fabrisse? Normally he was Fabri. Or Fabriii. Or Fabri~. Celline's eyes widened.

"Ooooh. Ooooooooh."

"Celline…"

"So this is him. The boy you keep talking about." Celline turned to him.

"Fabrisse Kestovar, right?" Fabrisse stared at her.

"How do you know my surname?"

"Journalism." Celline waved a hand.

"Did you know that just last week Liene informed me that you voluntarily attended an introductory stone thaumaturgy lecture?" Liene made a strangled noise.

"That's not—""Did you know," Celline continued, "that she told me that last week you snuck into Advanced Surveying forty-three minutes before the lecture started?" How did Liene even have that information… Liene suddenly pushed Celline forward and placed a hand on her lip.

"Shhh."

"What?" Fabrisse asked. Liene pointed. A floating glyphlight drifted across an intersecting path ahead. Beneath it walked a figure in the ash-grey robes reserved for Night Wardens.

"Come on," Liene tugged Fabrisse by the sleeve and nudged him behind a hedge.

"This way." Celline followed. Liene glanced over her shoulder.

"Why are you following us?" Celline looked genuinely confused by the question.

"You're obviously sneaking out of the Synod. You want me to snitch you two out instead?" Liene sighed. Celline grinned.

"Come on. I'm doing research on student nocturnal activity here. You two have to let me come." Liene's sigh elongated.

"Fine."

"So you agree to this journalism endeavor?"

"You were going to follow us anyway."

"Yes."

"That's the problem."

"Cute new ribbons, by the way."

"Oh, you think so?" Liene perked up.

"They're styled after a jellyfish. I call them the fishbones."

"That's a horrible name." The three of them resumed walking. A few seconds later Celline stuck out a hand toward Fabrisse while somehow continuing to walk, write notes, and avoid tree roots simultaneously.

"I'm Celline Moose, by the way. With two Ls. I'm a proud student of the Crystal Wing and I head the Synod Gazette on the side."

"Still not enough Ls in her life," Liene said. Fabrisse found himself studying the two of them. They couldn't have been more than a year apart in age, yet the physical difference was remarkable. Liene was taller by over a head and possessed the sort of broad-shouldered build that made professors instinctively ask her to help move furniture. Celline, meanwhile, looked as though a sufficiently determined breeze might qualify as a transportation method.

Fabrisse wasn't entirely convinced she exceeded one hundred and sixty centimeters. Stranger still was their choice of attire. Liene had decorated herself with ribbons, charms, trinkets, enchanted accessories, and what appeared to be a ribbon currently training several smaller ribbons. Celline wore a dark travelling cloak over a fitted and high-collared waistcoat that made her look like the butler's butler from Severa's household. It was bizarre.

"Oh. I'm not the one taking Ls today." Celline grinned before turning to Fabrisse.

"Can I call you Fabrisse?"

"Um, yeah."

"Fabrisse, did you know that last week Liene also told us about—" Liene's hand flew to Celline's mouth and promptly clammed it shut.

"Mmmmph!" Fabrisse stared at both of them. Was normal conversation always this fast? How was anyone supposed to follow it? Keeping up with Liene alone was difficult. Keeping up with two of them at once felt less like a conversation and more like being trapped inside a weather event. Unfortunately, neither weather event seemed interested in slowing down. The southern gate appeared ahead.

Beyond it stretched the dark countryside of South Westris, silvered by moonlight and dotted with distant lanterns from farmsteads and roadside inns. The Synod's walls rose behind them like a cliff of pale stone. Liene marched straight through the gate. He was easily twice Fabrisse's size and looked as though he had been specifically bred for standing in doorways. There was no way someone this intimidating and dauntless would let them through without a fight.

"Evening, Miss Lugano," The gatekeeper said.

"Evening!" Liene waved enthusiastically.

"How do you like my new ribbons? They're styled after a jellyfish. I call them the fishbones." Celline's notebook scribbled continuously, apparently having decided that Liene's conversation alone qualified as historical record. The gatekeeper sighed.

"I see. Do you have permission for this excursion?"

"Probably! How's Mrs Paige?"

"She's fine." He flipped the page.

"Have a pleasant evening."

"Thank you!" Fabrisse stared.

"That worked?"

"Of course it worked," Liene said.

"We go way back." With the intimidating and ever-dauntless gatekeeper out of the way, the three of them continued down the moonlit road.