Iobel is reading a letter from her great-aunt, and looks up when Edarial comes in. "Hello. What is it?"

"Hello." He sets the spell-chart on the table, looking like he's only barely containing his excitement. "I've been working on a project. I think it's finished, but - I'd like you to check over my work. If you don't mind."

"Oh. Sure." She unfolds the chart. "What is it meant to do?"

"It's a hex. For the fountain that heals familiars, to make more of them."

"Oh! You've reconstructed it!" And with this she begins to read quite happily. "God, it's huge."

"It really is, I kind of expected to never ever finish it, but - well."

"My teleport's looking like it's going to be about this big, so I guess if I can cram this into my head that will be encouraging," she laughs, tracing the lines of the chart. "Mm-hmmm. Mmm - you might be able to condense this branch although I don't know if it'd make it much more fit-able."

"Maybe, I'll try to revise that part -" Pause. "Do you want to help?"

"With the condensing in particular?"

"With the spell chart in general."

"Sure." Bella turns a page in her current notebook and makes an abbreviated map of the spellchart and footnotes it with things that might benefit from being done - the condensation here, a clarification of a definition up there, a correction of a cyclic section on the far end.

Edarial fixes a part that was too open-ended, and gives some explanations for why he laid things out in this particular manner for certain sections if required, but otherwise, isn't sure what to change. He retrieves a spare spell chart and starts condensing the branch to see if it's viable before he messes with the main spell chart.

Eventually Iobel has been through the entire thing. "I think with the revisions mentioned it will work. If we can memorize it sufficiently."

"Yeah. That's half of the problem, there - but if we can't manage it, we could possibly get it into the hands of someone who can."

Iobel nods. "I'm certainly going to give it a try, though. There ought to be one of these in every good-sized city."

"Agreed. It's also be prudent to get them in foreign cities, too, though that's harder to do."

"Well, we can at least send them copies of the spellchart even if they don't want to let our spellbinders in."

"Yup. Let's make lots of copies of the spellchart, there's no good reason to keep it on just one copy."

Iobel nods. "Once it's finalized."

He nods. "Of course."

She fishes them out of a stack of things and hands them over while she continues nitpicking the hex.

He takes them to read, keeping an eye on the hex to see if there's a way he can help, but otherwise leaving Iobel to it.

The notes are fairly straightforward in content: she asked people for information about what to do, distilled it, and then found what resources were available to her and hit the problems with them until the problems went away or shrank behind the specter of the next addressable priority.

That's wonderfully straightforward. There are a few instances where a more delicate touch would have done more good, but as a whole everything Iobel did was helpful. He tells her so, and then thanks her.

"You're welcome."

And then it's back to reading and spellchart creation, though he's got a faint smile on his face, now.

Eventually Iobel says, "It's snug as I can make it, now. I'm going to see if I can get it down while it's coherent in my head."

Edarial nods. "I'll do the same. Maybe one of us will get it."

He husband does the same, minus the impromptu mnemonics - he stares at it and frowns as he organizes it in his head to help.

Iobel claps her hands. "If I can do this maybe my teleport will behave at full size after all!"

"Maybe!" laughs Edarial. "If you can manage it, I'd love to see that chart, too, teleportation would be so useful."

"It's nearly done."

"I'm happy to help with it, if you'd like."

"When I've filled in the bit about landing upright I'll let you look it over like I've just done this one."

Nod. "I'll help in any way I can."

"Thanks."

"And now," he says, grinning, "I'm going to get more spellcharts so I can make multiple copies. No more repeats of the spellchart of this being lost."

"I agree completely. And then we should head to - Panhar and then Forgrat, maybe, and put one in each?"

He nods. "Yeah, those sound good - as soon as possible, I think, to prevent accidents."

"Right."

Musingly, he asks, "Do you think we could manage it today, or should we wait until tomorrow?"

"I haven't cast anything yet today, you?"

"Same!"

"Then we might as well leave as soon as we've got one clean copy made and have put a staffperson on copying it from there. I bet we can hit both cities in one day."

She does. This will mean mismatched handwriting, but that shouldn't get in the way.

"Mm-hm!" She has acquired Cricket, who is now over her shoulder.

"It would be harder, because of how much you'd have to expand the section about what healed means. Familiars are easy because they have a clear state of perfect health right when they're bound - they don't need to be any other physical age or ever have congenital problems. It might be that you could do it, since there are healing spells that work fine on people, but it would definitely be harder."

He nods. "I'll give it a shot, a lot of what was in the spellchart for familiars could be reused, though. It's the sort of thing that is harder but worth trying. For obvious reasons."

"You might have to make a couple different fountains for diseases and injuries. But it doesn't sound necessarily harder than the immortality hex I had in mind, which I'm still planning to work on even with Isabella's spells. Since there are plenty of binders to use it."

"Makes sense. It's a good idea, I like how our magic's scaleable. Let me know how that goes, I'll let you know how mine goes?"

"Sure. I'm doing the teleportation first, though. Isabella's spell did adjust my priorities a little."

"Of course," he agrees, smiling. "That would be extremely helpful for scaling the fountain - easier to get the spellcharts to places far away that they need to get to."

"Mm-hm. And emergency communications, and evacuations - I'm hoping to keep the section that allows a small number of passengers!"

Edarial nods. "That would be great! Though it might be smart to make two versions of the spell - one for passengers and one without, to hopefully cut down on charge time. In case of an emergency where it's just you in danger."

"Yeah. I'll probably make lots if versions of the full ideal version doesn't have a decent charge time, really."

"Good plan. There might be a way to make a hex that does teleportation, but that seems like it would be a nightmare to try to accomplish."

"It might be possible to do something like Adarin's portals, in two hex-sized steps, I think."

Edarial nods. "Which would be extremely useful. I'll look into making those, as an alternative to teleportation, or an addition."

"If they were permanent it would scale better, certainly. For freight too."

"Agreed!" He pauses. "Now I'm all excited and I kind of want to fling myself at some spellcharts to start doing that."

"I'll write it down for later. It'll be hard to chart on the boat."

"Just a bit," he agrees. "Not to mention I don't have any blank ones with me right now."

"I can do this first one if you'll find someone to explain what I'm doing - you're more recognizable as something other than some random binder."

"Sure," says Iobel, already charging. "Now I guess we see how long this takes."

He nods. "Yeah. It'll probably be a long one, honestly. Considering."

Edarial looks at Cricket, looking like there is a thing he would like to ask - but he doesn't. He sits, near enough to Iobel but not next to her. Then he pets Berathyme, gently.

Charging charging charging.

Cricket yawns, and says, "I also did not point out who allowed it to be so useful that there be more than one fountain to go to. Perhaps I would not have commented at all if I did not very much remember being stolen out of my Iobel's arms sick to the point of death because there was only -"

"Don't. Either of you. Stop it."

Cricket sniffs and flicks his tail. He grumbles when Iobel quits rubbing his tummy but doesn't produce further conversation, just rolls over in her lap.

"It makes him worse, and I'm not the only person who has to listen to him anymore."

"Ah," she agrees. "You are worried for my binder."

"And embarrassed."

"I think that he is too quick to judge, and I would like to know why he chooses to do so in the way that he does," says Berathyme, flicking her tongue. "Though you need not be embarrassed of him. He is your familiar, he does not speak for you, though you are connected."

"He's done it as long as I can remember. I'm not sure if there really is a why, I've tried asking."

"I don't know what standard of health you're referring to," remarks Iobel, scritching Cricket behind the ears.

"Mental," declares Berathyme. "Though social, as well. It has already caused strife, and you spend a lot of your time associated with him keeping him quiet or preventing inquiries."

"Previously he didn't have a social life. I'd allow him more adjustment period even if I hadn't anticipated specific problems. And I assure you he's sane, and he seems to be exactly who he wants to be."

Iobel shrugs back, and goes on charging.

Edarial isn't feeling talkative anymore, so he'll just sit and wait for Iobel to finish charging. Thinking idly about how to make an item-based teleportation hex work.

"Oooo," says Edarial. "That would be useful - I can try that if the portal pairs are impossible, certainly. It would be easier to chart."

"It'd be like a carrier pigeon, sort of."

"Sort of! Definitely worth the attention. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He smiles at her, and because he doesn't have another topic of conversation - back to silence. And thinking.

Charge charge - Fountain! It erupts suddenly and beautifully from the center of the target location, spilling over itself.

"Mm-hm! On we go, then."

Iobel's not particularly talkative. She trails her fingers in the water and notebooks and pets her cat.

Iobel hangs around in the fountainplace-to-be in companionable quiet.

That is entirely fine by Edarial, he is feeling quiet.

"By all means," sighs Edarial. "Send letters. I genuinely welcome them, but democracy is not the kind of thing I can instate with the snap of my fingers."

"A constitution is a good idea," says Edarial, gently. "A genuinely good one. I don't want a second coming of my mother - so, when I get home, I will see about making one, to give citizens rights. What sorts of things are you asking me to put on it?"

"Why don't," says Edarial, raising his voice to get people to quiet down and stop arguing, "you send me various lists, of things that you want in a constitution, or if you'd prefer to do this now - one at a time, please?"

"I only heard some of it."

"They were after - actually I'm not sure even they knew. Democracy, supposedly. Or a republic. Or a constitutional monarchy? Or possibly a dictatorship, I think someone wanted me to declare war on Lathalind."

Iobel snorts. "Perhaps their goals are more clear if they're taken as individuals."

"Perhaps, I tried to get them to either address me one at a time with their concerns or write letters. They seemed to agree on letters and that was when they dispersed."

"All right. It might be a better idea if we hadn't so recently stumbled on such a - resource mine. The public reveal is going to hit like a meteor when it comes, and I think centralized handling is probably the best way to deal with the opportunities."

"I do agree, but they put forth the idea of a constitution, which isn't a bad one."

"Sure. That seems like a reasonable project."

"Right, so we can get started on that. But just about everything else - I don't think they knew what they wanted."

"Yeah. I guess we'll keep an eye on the correspondence."

He nods. "Yeah. I might also ask people from other parts of the country what they want in a constitution, it doesn't seem fair to let one city dictate what's in it."

"One special interest group in one city."

Iobel reaches carefullycarefullycarefully for the voice. "Edarial."

"What's hurt?" Iobel asks, taking her hand away but forming a mental map of where the rest of him probably is so she can avoid jostling him. "Are you actively bleeding, do I need to be putting pressure on a wound till midnight comes?"

"... Can I just go with everything?" he half-laughs, slurring his words a little.

"Sure, but you have to tell me what to focus on first. Bleeding?" she prompts. "Stay awake, you sound concussed if I'm any judge, I have a spell for that but it has to wait for midnight."

"Okay. I could set the arm but it'd be a waste, it won't misheal between now and midnight, the important thing is to stay awake, you understand? Talk to me."

"... Okay," he says. "Wh' do you want me to say?"

"Anything. Count to fifty a few hundred times, I don't care, just stay awake."

Iobel finds his shoulder again and touches her fingertips to it very very gently.

He doesn't complain at this touch. At thirty-seven he sighs and stops counting.

"Edarial."

"Nrrgh," he complains, and then he resumes.

Iobel tries to find a comfortable way to sit, given her leg. Eventually she winds up lying on her front next to her husband, fingetips still on his shoulder to remind her not to suddenly jostle him.

"Are you okay?" he asks, eventually. "Y' sound better off then me, but - are you okay...?"

"Broken leg. I've had worse just trying to climb stairs. I'll fix it come midnight."

"Okay. Good."

"I don't hear anyone trying to dig us out. Or any of the guards, but they aren't in this pocket whatever their condition, that I'm pretty sure of. It's small or our voices wouldn't echo like this."

"Mhmmm. Hope they're okay."

"Yeah. Me too."

Iobel lies there listening to him. Eventually Cricket trots over to her and curls up on her back.

After a while, he stops counting again, and whispers, "... Why are you worrying...?"

"You may have internal bleeding even if it's nothing Berathyme can smell, you could be dying, and if you're talking that'll let me know if you start to slip and I can start trying heroic measures like jostling the ceiling of this pocket we find ourselves in. And my head injury spell can't fix a coma if you fall into one, so you have to stay awake."

"Okay," he says. "Isabella can resurrect people, though."

"We don't know how that works with familiars, Edarial."

"Maybe you don't, but if it works the wrong way it may be that all Isabella can bring back is a nonbinder who can never try again, or worse, an unmade vegetable. So help me keep your binder awake."

"So count. Or talk about something else."

"Okay," he agrees. Then he goes back to counting.

Iobel stays where she is, watching to see if he skips a number or anything.

He does not skip any numbers. Sometimes when the numbers get large, though, he seems to get annoyed with how long they take to say and he starts over from one, again.

That's fine.

"...If you die?"

"Mhmm. You'd do fine as a solo monarch. 've seen you, you're good at it."

"You didn't like that plan one bit when you weren't concussed and it wasn't pitched as involving your death, so."

"I," he declares, "am sometimes an idiot."

Iobel sighs.

"You'd do great," assures Edarial. "Jus' the learning curve. And you're just about past that..."

"Right, except I don't need to, because you're going to stay awake, midnight is going to come, I am going to heal you, and we are going to dig our way out of this mess even if no one is coming to help."

"Keep talking."

He sighs, then starts reciting the alphabet.

That suits her just fine.

He finishes that, repeats it again, and then moves on to naming cities in Marlatia.

Mm-hm.

"Fishing for compliments?" Iobel asks wryly.

"I don't deserve them," he mutters.

"Oh, there are several I could distribute quite sincerely, I'm just not sure what you're looking for in particular."

"Not - looking for compliments," sighs Edarial.

"So if you don't want compliments what do you want to know?"

"Why I care if you die? I don't want anyone to die and I don't know if you could be fetched back the way you are now, if you want the generic reason. For the practical - well, when you aren't concussed, you think the country needs you at the helm and I'm inclined to defer to your judgment on that, not that I wouldn't try alone if I had to. And if you want personal reasons that gets back into the compliment-fishing."

"Keep talking."

"I'm tired."

"Sucks to be you, stay awake, you can sleep all you want after I've fixed your head, do not go comatose on me, I can't fix that."

"I'm not trying to be cryptic. What's missing?"

"Obviously you want me to stay awake," snorts Edarial. "But everyone seems to want me to do the impossible."

"It is not impossible for you to stay awake until midnight. It's only a few hours."

"What, then?"

"Everything? I just - I feel so alone and everything is my fault and if I were my - my alt, maybe, if I weren't an idiot that broke myself maybe I'd be functional, but even then I can't turn back time, like your - your fluffy cat seems to want me to do."

"Neither I nor my fluffy cat expects you to be able to turn back time."

"Do you want me to ask him? He'll snort and say he doesn't think that highly of your abilities, but it comes down to the same thing. Time travel's not doable, no one expects it of you."

"Then why is nothing I do good enough?"

"For who, Cricket? You can't hold yourself to his standard, he's ridiculous, have I ever claimed to agree with him?"

"In general. The protestors, those - those idiots that couldn't even organize themselves, the only thing they seemed to agree on is they wanted me gone."

"They've never even met you before. They have political opinions that imply you being out of a job, it wasn't personal."

"Then why are we buried under the building?"

"Because at least one of them holds political opinions that imply you being buried under rubble, I guess, but I stand by the assessment that it's not personal."

"I don't hate you. I've told you several times, now, I only ever hated you when I was mistaken about what had happened."

"Great," sighs Edarial. "Thanks, dad. For that one."

"I don't hate you," she insists. "Him I have no fondness for, but I need reasons to hate people and I don't have any for you."

"No. Why don't you tell me?"

"For what? You - you had every reason."

"I leapt to conclusions, wasn't accounting for - people who weren't you doing things. For that matter, I panicked early. I got the letter and I was all set to flee over the border instead of show up and see what it was about."

"They were reasonable conclusions to make."

"They weren't outrageous. But they weren't careful. I didn't sit and go through it methodically."

"Considering the circumstances... Kind of understandable," he says, miserably.

"Why can you understand the careless, stressed-out part of my thought process and have so much trouble believing the calmer part where I don't hate you anymore?"

"What else do you want me to do? I don't know what you want of me either."

"Let me know if you figure it out and I'll try."

"You're welcome."

"I'm aware the cat has not helped. I'm sorry about him."

"It's not your fault," he assures. "Thank you for - everything."

"You're welcome."

"Tell me what they are anyway?"

"Are you sure? Sometimes you ask me to tell you things and then it seems to make things worse. I don't want to make you worse. Especially not while you may have internal bleeding, that seems like exceptionally bad making-things-worse timing."

Edarial laughs, a little. "Fair point. Okay, well - what sort of... Things are they? Are they things that I'm personally doing wrong, are they things I could do better, or... What?"

"I'm - not sure how to categorize them in those terms."

"Then," says Berathyme, slithering up to Iobel, "Whisper them to me, and I will tell you if it is appropriate or not."

"Paranoia, then. I don't know how to fix that, and working around it is - hard."

"Yes. The only way around that is time. It is a hard thing to work around, but can you blame him?" says Berathyme.

"I said it could wait. It can wait. If it has to wait then it will," says Iobel testily.

Iobel listens to the counting, and sighs.

"I have no idea. My wall-walk will do it if nothing else."

"Yeah. I have one for your head and I can probably cover the rest of your injuries in one spell, and I can do my leg, that's three, two if I wall-walk us both, that leaves me with one left unless you can take on some of the healing."

"I can take on some of the healing - I don't have anything for concussions but broken bones and injuries I can do. So three for me, three for you."

"Okay."

Counting. Back to counting.

And lying there, and just in case her sense of time is wildly off, trying to charge every now and then.

"Manage what, getting out? Yes. You're still conscious, all you have to do is stay that way till midnight and we'll be fine."

"Not that. Fixing the world."

"Isabella and Adarin have theirs thoroughly underway. If nothing else they'll do it. On our own account I think we can at least make progress."

"That's... Good to hear."

"Good."

She laughs. "Why not. But I don't think they'd be annoyed."

"It's the principle of the matter."

"As long as we confine it to them and don't help haze any more unfortunate pairs."

"Agreed. That wouldn't help anyone, it would be mean."

"They weren't trying to be mean."

"Oh, I know, but it would be if we did it to others after knowing what it's like."

"Ah. Agreed."

Edarial nods a little. He falls silent.

"Keep talking. I can bring you a little water from the fountain if you're thirsty?"

"You have a broken leg," he points out.

"Yes, but I can haul myself over there and back, it's not so far. I've broken my legs before. Have I mentioned I really needed that anti-clumsiness spell I invented?"

"It'll be fine after midnight. Do you need water?"

"... You don't have to get it if it's too painful."

"You're welcome."

Iobel's hand settles on his shoulder again.

Edarial hesitates, but then he takes her hand - he can find it, it's on his shoulder - to hold.

"Hey, stay with me," Iobel says sharply when he mumbles. "Awake. Awake."

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Trying."

"Counting's hardly the most fascinating thing in the world. What'll hold your attention, c'mon."

"I'm - not really sure, any ideas...?"

"Um, any other charts you've been picking at for a while on the side? Read any good books lately? If you had one of those soul animals what do you think you'd get?"

"Mm - haven't had time for other charts. There are some projects I haven't picked back up, but I will again. Good books - lately, no. I have no idea what soul animal I'd get - what do you think you'd get?"

"I don't know. Maybe just the same thing as Path is, but maybe not. Isabella was talking about how he had to be a bird because she's a witch, and I'm not a witch."

"I think I'd have to know more about how they work to get a good guess. Otherwise - I'd just go with what Adarin has."

"Apparently there are lots of stereotypes and such about them but we didn't grow up there and if we did we wouldn't need to guess."

Edarial nods. "... Think I would get a bird?"

"Maybe. I don't know what it means to have a bird. I could see it visually though."

Another nod, not that she can see it. "I wish there was a way to find out without actually getting one, I'm curious now."

"I'd say the alethiometer, but it can't tell us anything about things that aren't there and if we went there - well."

"Yeah. Annoyingly inconvenient."

"I'm certain it's much too complicated to duplicate as a hex, alas."

"It would have been so useful, too," he agrees. "An objective truth teller!"

"And if we were designing it from scratch we could have made it better at numbers and times and proper nouns, too."

"That too. That would be great."

"It sounded like it really frustrates Isabella to work around it but she's afraid to try taking it apart and attaching it to a different interface."

"Yeah. Maybe they'll make progress, they are both immortal, after all. They've got time."

"All the time in the world," Iobel agrees. "It's nice to have."

"Yeah, it is."

"Neither do I, honestly."

"Fair," he agrees. "I'm - not sure how the head injury's affecting me."

"Well, you can look at it in retrospect when midnight rolls around."

"Exciting." Pause. "I hope I'm less whiny when I no longer have a head injury..."

"You're not being too terribly whiny."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"So, how are you liking - monarching?"

"It's - rewarding, when we get things done, but I wish we were working from a better foundation than the one the previous queen left. It's frustrating to put in tremendous amounts of work and resources to get things to 'maybe almost as good as they were before except the injured parties are still irritated, harmed, or dead'."

"Mmmm... Some things are better, actually. Not everything, mind you, but - nobility doesn't hold as much power anymore and consequently can't oppress or hurt people, for instance."

"That seems like an improvement, admittedly. Though the would-be democrats didn't seem to be impressed."

"Obviously not," says Edarial, dryly. He sighs.

"This was probably one of them acting alone, on impulse," she says, squeezing his hand lightly.

"Probably. It's still distressing, though."

"Of course it is. Someone just tried to kill us."

"And the guards by proxy - possibly succeeding there, we don't know."

"Were any of them spellbinders?"

"No," he sighs. "There are a few that are, but - not these ones in particular."

"Then they will come back fine when the time's right, I expect."

He nods. "Fortunate in that respect, I suppose. Unfortunate in that a spellbinder with spells would be exceptionally useful right now."

"Unless they'd been knocked out."

"Unless that, of course." He sighs. "I hope they are all right, regardless."

"Me too. I wonder why no one's digging us out."

"I do, as well. Really hoping the country hasn't started falling apart in the - what has it been, several hours since the building collapsed?"

"We were set to be gone all day with no problem. Catching a late boat shouldn't make that any worse. I'm wondering if there's a small civil disturbance right here in Forgrat, though, distracting from picking up the rubble..."

"That could be it. I'm thinking of the worst-case scenario, though." He sighs. "I keep doing that."

"Worst-case scenarios are extreme, and therefore unlikely. If something you thought was the worst case scenario happens it's likely to have been a failure of imagination."

"What kinds of stories? I'm not sure what you want to hear."