Somehow, he sensed the giant orbs within the labs had originated from this state. What they served, according to some attendants, was a "Battery"—a means to hoard Force for further use. That gave an explanation as to why no caster maintained the Anti-field. In a way, the whole lab was one big engine, as they called it. Utterly marvelous.
And they were the builders of them. That and many more. Splendid. By the side, a relatively young Orvalrn waved, a block of stone before him shattering into fragments. Leaning, he picked up the debris, sorting out specific pieces from the rest. What he was looking for remained unknown—as did a lot of the things done here.
But Merrin was learning, slowly, yes, but learning nonetheless. Often, a certain attendant would ask for his aid for one thing or another: Lift a boulder, reduce the heat of the air, create a field of cold moisture around them. All were things that registered with no familiarity in his mind. But he did nod before wandering away. He served no purpose here outside of observation.
And even that was a self-decided act.
Furthermore.
By the will of Este, none were allowed to cross the far bridge that separated this chasm from the other, something about the effects of the anti-field. Not that he had any intention otherwise; this large piece of land was paradise. No fear of the heat. Except for the warmth of the earth, that is. No fear of the hidden beasts. Nothing. Although he occasionally found himself repulsed by the blaring light. The feeling of exposure battled with his innate Ashman instincts.
He'd been here two days, observing, learning, watching. Who knew how long it had been for reality? But in those hours, he pondered a question, walking solemnly through the long halls of the tower. It was bigger on the inside, a thing he noted in the architecture of this place. The walls were sleek black, segmented occasionally by the sliding doors. Strange things they were. Closeness parted them... and they were tall.
Unlike Nights... And back then, he was considerably shorter.
Back then... He chuckled at the quip, found himself leaning on the cold walls. A measure of cold water ran within them, an attendant had revealed. Not froststone... cold water.
Apparently, the heat was a thing shared by current and past Eastos. However, the warmth of now was far, far milder.
He smiled and thought about the possible future. When would such a thing even happen in reality? The church claims the coming of God... Where are they?
He rubbed his temples, felt the satiny texture of his surface skin. His skin was grey, but smooth. Very few sweat pores, too. These Orvalen did sweat, but lighter.
What other secrets did they have?
He looked out, observing the silent extent of the hall, light beaming down from the high ceilings. A few bulbs, however, were embedded in the earth. A deliberate walkway, perhaps. Who knows?
Then there was the silence, pressing in from the totality of the hall. It chilled him, expanded his inner sensations, and for that moment... he pondered.
The current matter, as it were, was the need for the acceleration of the dream sequence. Yes, time in reality was slower in the dream, but it moved nonetheless. And from deep observations and realizations, he came to a singular conclusion: Este had yet to build the Aelmiren.
Currently, her actions are focused on the possibilities of stone as armor. Often, she would mention a thing called the Integument. What that was, Merrin guessed, was some armor of sorts. Regardless, she was nowhere near the needed point.
He caressed his hair... it was fun to play with.
How does someone go from building an armor to a species? The pattern made no sense.
He sighed.
He didn't need it to make sense; he needed her the creation of the Aelmiren, and when they were sealed, he would learn of the exact location. Time was being wasted, and soon, the Stone things would begin searching for him. Intelligent or not, they were creatures of certain patterns, and in the face of an attack, the logical pattern was the search for an intruder. Him!
He needed to expedite the process... He chuckled again. He knew the source. What a word that was: "Expedite." A new piece of knowledge he gained in this dream. There was more to learn, no doubt, about the Shaedoran and the Patrons, who, as it turns out, were derived from the Ancient Shaedorans. Names and their nature: such things contained vast knowledge, especially for the VeilCounsel in him.
Ivory would help little for the needed advancement in the ranks. The honorific words were the way, and Merrin sensed that a grasp of the Patron Name and words would truly be the sure outcome. He needed to learn them.
However... time, time, time.
There was so very little of that.
I can't go around asking the obvious question. The dream would unravel and Est—the whiteMother—would awaken from the plague.
That cannot happen.
He sighed openly, white steam fuming out into the dimness, vanishing. Knowledge was the needed thing: that and the hastening of the Aelmiren creation process.
Somehow then, he thought... somehow, he must make her aware of the possibility.
He lingered on the notion, scowled. This, however, breaks the natural flow of the memory—the dream. He cannot directly tell Este what she needs to build, but instead offer a clue about it. As a Caster, she should have the awareness to understand.
He nodded.
And among other things, he needed to grasp the logic behind the Anti-field. A boon was there, he knew it. Imagine a means of true protection. His people, the sunWitnesses... the entire slave collective would be free from injury.
Imagine.
He imposed the scene onto reality: There, they would stand among the bulky rocks of the mines, axe in hand, diving into the pits without fear, without chains, without light. Inward, into the darkness like Ashmen, with no care for injuries. They would land feet-first, with the barrier having absorbed the impact.
What a wonderful thing!
The fabrication vanished with the emergence of a voice. Inward, echoing through his flesh and bones. A soft tone: Este. "Come dance for me. I might show you something."
Merrin smiled, thought in response: "Yes."
Always, this he did... dancing for Este!
The dancing room, as he had chosen to call it, was a round space with curved walls—the structure something of a bowl-shaped chamber. Arched surfaces, with the floor dark and trailed with shimmering silver lines, almost like threads. Marvelous to observe. A thing he saw was an intentional craft.
To dance, you must first be enamored.
Then, there was Este.
As usual, she sat on a sleek high-backed chair some 15 meters away. Fused into the floor, the chair was among the many capabilities of the tower itself. Tap two times on the floor, anywhere in the tower, and a chair grew from the ground. This proved annoying to some Attendants, who claimed the method a nuisance.
What if you were dancing, running, or stumbling? Would every two taps present a seat? All valid questions, of course, but Merrin was more locked with the act rather than the problems of it. In reality, every seating required highstones. Often uncomfortable, but that was the way of it.
But here... No, no, no. This was paradise.
Este sat there, on the edge of the wall, a contraption spinning before her: wheels. Countless, interwoven wheels twirling without reason. She would note things from some data provided by them, and as he had seen her do... they were portable. A wave and they contracted into a bronze sphere.
Truly marvelous things.
Este, as he noticed, seemed particularly locked on the process of whatever it was she did. Her attention was yet to regard him. Manic, her motions often possessed that singular factor: hard scribblings, tappings on strange black boards, many more. In such states, Merrin had learned to adopt the Ashman conditioning.
To the nearest shadows, he went, lurking, observing the busy Scientist in her nutty motions. Amusing how she delved into the depths of her work, fading out the immediate reality for something else. Almost like an Ashman... one who had practiced the dance of self.
Perhaps she had.
Who knew what lay out there... maybe among the so-called Scattered humans, the Ashmen had taught their ways. Was that how the Fermen came to be? he pondered.
Este paused, abrupt, eyes slowly widening with an unhinged visage of realization. "By ORAVIEN! This is it!" Her eyes darted, searching for something in the dim, cold chamber. She halted, eyes narrowing toward a dark corner of the space... directly on a shadow cast by a curved wall.
Realization flickered. "What's with you hiding in the shadows?"
Merrin smiled, stepped out, his arms clasped behind him. "An old habit."
"Where did you get it from?" She waved, the spinning wheels compacting into a singular orb. It hovered, and in a swift motion, it was gone, tucked away into the pockets of her coat.
She's fast!
Merrin shrugged. "A long time ago in Elmaran," he said. "It is my memory to know."
She exhaled, and he saw the acceptance of the spoken words. Odd as it was, Este drowned many suspicions of his characteristics with simple acceptance. Why he did certain things, the reasons for his questions... such activities usually required interrogation. But she didn't... always accepting.
She plays her role well.