you said, ‘I’ve been in an elevator, going up and down.’

[Urs Wardell]

Frost 3

How could something simple be so difficult?

Circles were deceptive. Urs frowned, his tongue sticking out between his teeth. He erased the left side and tried again. Chalk against stone, and he dragged it. Slowly. The turtle won in the end, he knew that - he knows that. Steady.

It didn’t matter. The book, Mother’s, said it did but he’d since learned better. The ritual wasn’t anything more than a decorative ceremony.

But he still prepared it. He had the book opened. He even read it, made a show of it, like he hadn’t memorized everything inside years ago.

Repetition was mourning; the body remembered.

And, so, he’d brought fresh sprigs of various herbs for burning: sage, for wisdom; juniper, to encourage easy dealings and; lavender because he liked the smell. They burned slowly on tin plates. He’d poured bits of myrrh into ceramic bowls that Sivan had around because Urs didn’t have everything he needed. Mother hadn’t left him her witchings - just her book.

Others, strangers, had come the day after to collect various knickknacks she’d hidden around the house. Urs was only allowed what he’d been expressly given.

Then, he pricked his finger and smeared a symbol at the very center of the diagram. It wasn’t a pictograph. But it meant something. Urs had seen it enough growing up - people Mother spoke to sometimes wore it, as pins, or tattoos. Another secret she’d kept hidden. Perhaps, if she hadn’t died, she’d have taught him everything he was only learning now.

He sighs, backing up on his knees from the chalk diagram, “What do you know of Scrivening? Runes?” Urs turned back to look at the elf - at Sivan. The only friend he’d made here, in the Upside.

Urs hadn’t told him everything - not about Mother, not about the Zaichaer Covens. But, Urs had told Sivan they’d be summoning something to help him find his parents. His family. If they were still alive.

[Sivan]

At various times, Sivan hadn't known whether Urs would return. The young man's visits were sporadic, so he didn't know if he was actually his Master—as he had known his teachers from Jacun back to the very first—or as a sometimes mentor. Perhaps he wasn't ready to truly oversee someone's arcane education, or perhaps Urs was still unsure of Sivan's abilities. Or perhaps he was still miffed that Sivan had misread his signs that first night when he had taken Urs home to make sure he didn't get into drunken trouble on his own.

They were in the root cellar that Geb had dug out beneath his cottage over the seasons, using the earth below to vary the soil in the garden and to make the cottage actually grow. By the end of the season, the second floor would be complete. It was tall enough for it now, with the edges of a floor and ceiling to separate it from the ground floor. He hadn't told the sprite to do that, but perhaps it had been inspired by errant thoughts of his: soon he would have a wizard's tower of sorts, perhaps.

Down here, it wasn't musty. Nut kept the air clean and fresh, Zin kept the moisture from growing mold—though he did have a small box in the corner that was growing some lovely mushrooms on purpose. Khal kept it warm enough even as Frost came apace.

Sivan watched. Much of what Urs did seemed more personal ritual than effective summoning technique, but if he knew anything, he knew that he didn't know everything, so he was paying attention in case he could learn something, only cutting in when it seemed as though Urs was going to make a mistake in the actual summoning.

"A bit," he said quietly, making eye contact rather than continue to study the human's work.

"Mostly with regard to summoning circles, though I am beginning to learn a more beyond what little one needs for artificing and alchemy. It seems that once one reaches a certain point of mastery, there's more overlap between the disciplines."

[Urs Wardell]

“Then you should be able to help me,” Urs said. He taps the page he’s looking at, nodding at Sivan.

The diagram Urs was there, but finished - and far more intricate than what Urs was working on. “She was better with this sort of thing. There’s a legend on the back that explains her glyphs. I’ve tried to replicate her stuff, the more complicated parts anyway, but it doesn’t hold,” he said. Agatha told him that was normal. Sorcerer’s sand wasn’t a living thing, but it acted like one. The comfortable, and confident, he felt in his runework the better than sand would behave. Everything improves with practice.

“I do something simple. A mirror for each of the cardinal directions,” Urs pointed at the small boxes, at the north, south, west, and east of the drawn diagram, “And then a path along, to and fro. It’s not a perfect barrier. But, it catches most of the Eldritch energies. Toothless isn’t - well, they’re toothless,” he showed Sivan a quick smile, before arranging the Sorcerer’s sand. He spread it around the diagram as easily as he could.

He wrote carefully. He traced curved lines that linked the boxes around one direction, and then worked through to the other sides - with Sivan’s help, if he lent it.

“Toothless is of the Eldritch Court,” Urs said, “Or sphere. I think that’s the, supposedly, correct term.” He walked around the diagram, checking for gaps or errors. “They can’t hear - or, they’ve never responded to spoken words. That’s what the scrolls are for,” he said, pulling a roll of paper from his pocket.

[Sivan]

Sivan watched Urs work while listening to his explanations. After pointing out a few things to make the mirrors align properly, he added some of this own thoughts.

"Court, sphere..." He shrugged. "It depends on who you talk to. The words for things in the elven languages tend to be more poetic than in Common, but it varies from place to place, mage to mage. When it comes to communicating with spirits, though, if they use a specific word, it tends to be polite to respond in kind. But the lesser spirits don't always speak with voices or in words... and the spirits who can, well, they can be as bad as lawyers when it comes to making a contract."

He also walked around the diagram, making sure it was safe. Sometimes, he would reach into the other planes himself to commune; other times, it was easier to summon them into a circle on this plane to commence negotiations.

"I know the wilds and the celestials better than I know the eldritch and infernals, but the one reliable eldritch summon I have... well, it responds to thoughts rather than words. So I would be prepared to think at Toothless in case it can't read. Meditation beforehand might make that easier. Calm, purposeful mind, you know?"

Summoning seemed almost like a hobby to Urs, who spent so much time at the Tranquil Gardens. Sivan was glad that the city had one more talented, skilled healer, but it worried him that he didn't take summoning more seriously, as it could lead to dangerous results for Urs and anyone nearby. But he supposed he would just have to teach him good habits whenever the man deigned to seek his guidance. He was a mentor more than a master, perhaps. He hoped that would be enough.

[Urs Wardell]

“Yeah; sphere if you’re a mage,” Urs corrected the pictographs where Sivan pointed, “And court if you aren’t.” It’s a tell, to not use their words. The sneers and whispers of the other students taught him that quickly enough.

“The Circle teaches all this so technically,” he said, “As if magic wasn’t alive.” His instructors, by and large, hadn’t been interested in his experiences. His book, his legacy, had been considered little more than fiction. Mother taught magic like poetry. In the end, all the Circle read were stories.

“But it is.”

There were truths there, hidden between the blasphemies of Mother’s stories. Kernels of information worth more than gold.

“Maybe. I haven’t tried thinking at Toothless,” he said, “Not directly. Perhaps they aren’t reading the note, as I suspected, but my mind.” A strange thing to consider. Mother had only left him with written instructions. They hadn’t ever Called together. She dealt with Spirits on her own terms, alone.

“I don’t know much about Spirits, wild, celestial, or otherwise,” he said, standing up to look over the diagram. The lines were solid and careful. The offerings were appropriately set. The candles burned. “But I do know a bit about Toothless.”

He was tempted, again, to tell Sivan everything. About Agnes. About Mother. About the Zachiaer covens. “They can find almost anything. People, objects, places, so long as something stronger isn’t obscuring it,” he says, walking slowly around the makeshift altar. The runes looked set. Sivan had suggested his edits.

“Or, until they lose interest. Three days is the limit if we apply one,” he adds, thinking. Connections helped. Names, gifts, whatever, anything to help track what Urs was looking for - he didn’t have any of those. He had general knowledge, but that wouldn’t be a guarantee for success.

[Sivan]

Sivan nodded slowly, his eyes remaining on the work though Urs had his attention.

"I have a difficult time understanding them," he admitted. "I can get their attention long enough to bargain, but knowing what they want other than aether can be difficult. Keeping their attention, even with an agreement, can be difficult. The wildings have an affinity toward me because of my Dratori blood, and celestials... well, they tend to be straightforward and honest in my experience. Infernals are, of course, dangerous, but can be useful."

Finally, he surmised that all was in readiness and turned his gaze back upon his mentee.

"I don't know how you balance the Circle, the Tranquil Gardens, and this," he said gravely. "I admire you for it, and I am learning from you as well, so thank you for... coming back." He flushed slightly. "As you know, I am not very good with people, but I am glad that I haven't run you off with my awkwardness." He scratched the back of his head so he could let his gaze drop to Urs' feet.

He stepped to the side of his cellar, careful not to overturn any of the supplies he had stacked against the wall. Engaging his Rune of Semblance more fully, he let his awareness permeate the room. His golden head began to shine with a blue-white sort of halo as he called Exael through his Rune of Summoning to witness and to aid him should anything go wrong. The celestial would be his aidolon someday soon, he hoped, as soon as he cracked the code for a Sacrament and had the power to see it through. That way, he wouldn't lose his ability to treat with spirits outside the sphere, the court.

Sivan nodded to Urs.

"All looks to be in readiness. I have your back."

He wouldn't rush the pretty man, but he wanted him to feel supported. Anxiety or fear could pooch the deal when forming a compact with any sort of spirit.

[Urs Wardell]

Urs read over his request again before leaving the note in the middle of the diagram. Agatha had shared a few names suspected of a possible connection to the Zachiaer covens. Rumors, she warned, nothing more. It was hard to not feel hopeful. If Toothless could find even one…

He sighed. There might not be anything but a disappointment. Toothless wasn’t strong. The eldritch creature was clever, or a form of it, but even the weakest magic could confuse or deter them. Flighty as a rule, not an exception, there’d been a number of times where the summons had simply fled back into the Eldritch realm without even so much as signaling Urs - or Mother - of having left Ransera.

“I don’t think you're awkward,” he said, offering Sivan a smile before turning back to his work. Offerings, to attract. Word, to instruct. Blood, thirdly, to initiate. Urs used a knife to draw blood from his index finger, and with it, he smudged a final rune to line everything together.

At first, there wasn’t anything - but then he felt his Rune of Summoning spent, and the diagram shined with sudden power. The offerings drained from their bowls, and the note crumpled on itself.

And then it tore. First, in half, then again, each piece rounding itself into a single unblinking eye. Eventually, there were thirteen of them, each a different color and size; most seemed human, or human enough, although a few pupils were sharp and twisted. They bounced, and then they floated, spinning around each other in a slow rotation.

Eventually, they focused on Urs.

He scribbled on another paper, his first offering. Three days to complete the task at hand, and if done sooner, they’d have the remaining time to explore this city as they might. Urs passed it through the diagram - five of the thirteen eyes were attracted to the note. The others weren’t.

“I need a majority before they’ll agree to the task,” he muttered, “I need to make this more interesting.”

[Sivan]

Sivan smiled back, but was also glad when Urs looked away. He was the mentor and Urs the mentee, but Urs' forwardness when they had first met still had him feeling unsure of himself. The blood was not something Sivan used often, but from what he gathered, Urs' mother did things in a more primal, visceral way than he himself had learned. Minor infernals could be tempted with blood, he knew, while the more powerful wanted more dear substances. The eldritch weren't necessarily evil, though; but rather alien and largely unknowable.

And Urs knew more about this one than Sivan did.

"Its name suggests it might want teeth," he offered, a bad joke. "Why not ask what it wants?"

Assuming Urs would ask by way of a scribbled note, Sivan tried directing his thoughts as he did when he summoned Taberarenai from its eldritch plane.

What do you desire? he asked the thing, curious if it would hear, and more curious if it would respond.

Teaching Urs was helping him, as well. Remembering his first lessons clearly was a bit of a challenge now that he had internalized those lessons. The effort required helped him see it all from a new perspective, marrying his experience with the wisdom that had been pearls before swine when he knew so little. He wondered if it had been the same for his teachers and masters, and if it would be true for him whenever he might have another student.

Half the time, he expected Urs to roll his eyes and say he didn't know what he was talking about. He did, but he hadn't yet fully realized how far he had come, though one had merely to look at how his modest cottage was becoming a tower, how a celestial spirit was biding its time until he could perform a Sacrament to bind them together. He was not what he had once been.

[Urs Wardell]

Urs paged through his Mother's diary. She'd hidden clues to Spirit negotiations in her stories. The legend of the Fifth Season told of a young prince lost in a timeless space and his dealings with the creatures within: Eldritch or that was Urs' assumption. Most of what he'd applied in summoning Toothless was pieced together from watching Mother work and this story. Urs quickly read through, taking care to note the various scribblings along the margins.

While Urs read, one or two eyes focused on Sivan. They blinked, lazily, and all sorts of images could be seen in the white of their eyes. A room undone and made, again and again, an endless cycle. A castle preserved completely in ice. This home, Sivan's home, painted in blue and only blue. The moment he thought at the creature, more eyes glanced his way until he had the attention of all thirteen.

Now, the scenes were familiar. The floating isles. The cobbled streets that he walked to work. They were hazy, and occasionally, done as if colored by a child, the hues and tones of real life blending in with imagined ones.

"Toothless records," Urs reads aloud, slowly making his own marks along the margins of the text, "It...hm. There's a character, without teeth, who goes around the kingdom and captures everything in paint. He stands witness to everything. But...I'm not sure how that's supposed to help. I've already tasked them to search for something here - surely they'll watch things outside of what I've asked for already."

Sivan could see more scenes. Toothless' reflection in a mirror, the world cementing around it as it's had its time to know. Things becoming more apparent. A clock, striking three. A drawing with three figures. An hourglass, empty. A watch broken. Images of time and that time being spent and gone.

[Sivan]

Sivan's smile faded as he studied the eldritch creature.

The eyes were almost hypnotic as he drew closer to see better what was reflected in its eyes. At his question, more and more of the eyes focused on him until he had all of Toothless' attention. The floating isles. The cobbled streets that he walked to work. Those were simple observations: what was near Kalzasi, what Sivan knew. He wondered if it was drawing from his memory or it had watched him on his quotidian path from where it resided on another plane. As it attempted to communicate, the images grew more metaphorical, he supposed, until he was frowning and trying to understand.

Toothless did seem obsessed with time.

"Ahh... Urs? It's looking at me..."

And indeed, he still seemed to have all of its attention.

"I formed a question in my mind and tried to think it at the creature. I just asked what it desired. I think it wants more time...?" He closed his eyes and tried to picture Toothless following Urs around, then going off to observe things and coming back, all superimposed with the face of a clock spinning on and on. He tried to add the flavor of question to it, if Toothless was asking for a contract that would go on indefinitely, allowing Toothless more time to more closely observe this plane. He opened his eyes to see what Toothless' eyes might reflect in response to that.

"Perhaps you ought to take the lead in negotiations, though," he remembered. "Since you're the one forming the contract."