Since the conclusion of the Saltpeter War, Tarapacá has enjoyed a prosperous peace amidst the low-lying fogs. It’s grown much thicker lately, and now inhuman figures shamble within.
’Uncertainty in the mists. I much mislike uncertainty.'
'Let’s resolve all of this swiftly and clearly. Who are they? What ought be done with them?'
'Remnants of the old, it seems. I have no respect for the Carapace Cross. Adepts play dangerous games by indulging these primal forms. Let them remain pressed in amber, for all I care!’
Dr Haig decried the tendency of some adepts to look kindly on the Carapace Cross, whom she saw as returning in the mists.
’Peace in Tarapacá was hard-won. We cannot let it be lost.'
'I suspect that one of those mysterious hours of preservation and mists is at work here: it may be the Vagabond, but more likely it is the Sister-and-Witch.'
'It seems it is the work of the Vagabond after all… what motive she might have, I do not know. But I do know that there are people in Tarapacá who would benefit greatly from this knowledge. I’ll see how I might advise.‘
Senator Esquivel went to advise the leaders of Tarapacá that the mists are connected to the work of the Vagabond.
’Whatever walks in this fog, it cannot be safe. Too many dangers take advantage of the blind spots of the Sun.'
'Fog feeds the desert, and when the desert drinks, it blooms. But what blooms in the world leaves the Tree. Without their scent, its leaves and branches are exposed…'
'I understand the resentments of those who lost the protection of the Calyptra. I cannot allow them to destroy what shelter remains. That only leaves us all exposed to the skies, in the end.‘
Tuponotanga worried whatever walked in the fog wanted revenge on Calyptra, and worked to limit any damage done in Tarapacá.
’I sense old forces gathering in Tarapacá. I think they are drawn there by something older still.'
'Certain rumors circulated around the church there, of a precious ear-bone kept beneath the altar. I am certain of its age, but little else besides.'
'A lost relic of the Company Anchorite. Not quite a bone. A tympanal remnant. If it were to disappear before it could be put to other uses… Take this, Librarian, and do not mention me.‘
Emilia planned for the disappearance of a ‘tympanal remnant’ she believed old forces were pursuing in Tarapacá.
’In the mists, an opportunity. In the mists, one walks not by sight but by rattle and warmth.'
'I will walk among the mists. What will they do to me?'
'There is not much that can soften my skin and make me feel soft like I once was, but I hope these mists can remind my scales of the warmth they felt long ago. I will find reprieve there.‘
Petros sought reprieve for his hardened scales in the warm moisture of the mists.
’They say time sways in the mists. I would like to experience this swaying.
‘Should I bring a light to guide my path? Or should I embrace the uncertainty of these mists?'
'Better blind, then. I will have to have faith. But I trust that I will find friends among egg-vein and shell-shadow. The discarded will be illuminated.‘
Dr Mohammad resolved to walk by faith, not light, among the mists in hopes of finding friends ‘among egg-vein and shell-shadow.‘
Faculty Consultations
Faculty
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Robigo
’Unpredictability and danger. To walk among those fogs is to embrace an uncertainty. Wouldn’t you rather be very comfortable and very confident of what lies ahead?'
'It is true that certain savour-secrets are more delectable when you are shrouded in the shadows of the Bounds. But I have many ways of replicating these same effects of focus on sensation and bounty. Like, for example, closing your eyes. Enjoy my Camai Quilla, and don’t speak to me again about these fogs.‘
’Old things are being reborn. Through tear in flesh and burst through shell, the beasts of the desert are taking new shapes.'
'I’ve heard of seglaz-lizards and glaeterfleoge-condors. Old ways find new life, and it seems quite forcefully. You would grow queasy at the ways the Cross-shapes have presented themselves on these poor beasts. The people of the towns will be next. They will be gruesome things.‘
’This subject makes me uncomfortable. Suffice it to say I understand these mists, better than most. I am not keen to say much more.'
'You are relentless. Fine. All evidence indicates that the mists were not present before the Lithomachy. The Old Sun was dim enough that no one could see clearly enough to fear seeing too much. But when the world brightened… the cloak of the mayu became necessary to protect certain impossibilities. Let’s leave it at that.
’The labyrinthine fogs… do you ever wish you stood among them here, tree-keeper? There is a reason the Haustorium does not experience Numa’s cleansing.'
'The fault lies with your Protector. She has chosen to bring a different season, chosen to keep the roots clinging desperately to the rock, refused to let them drink of the blood they require. The Growth wants only one future, one history, and one possibility: itself. It cannot stand the ambiguity, or the risk of an unwise mortal contending with its hegemony.‘