Incident [TEXT]

You look back up at the clock. Noon is fast approaching. Kierkgaard didn't give you any indication of when you would have to be at the Blue Rose, which implies that somebody will come and get you. But by the same token, you have no idea as to when they'll turn up. You don't have the time to go chasing after myths right now.

But the Myriad is looking more and more real the further you get into this. Linkers are a rare type of sparker, but potentially very valuable with strict training and access to a wide range of different sparkers. Linker items, by extension, are usually inordinately expensive even for the most simple of imbuements. The box would be fairly easy to create. This parchment, however... you have no idea how somebody would go about making something like this. It's useful, elegant, and has no direct connection to any sparker talent you can think of. Perhaps some manner of illusionist? That might explain the infinite paper trick. But not how it knew Dupont was dead. Or how it has the ability to get you to the Myriad. Whatever exactly this paper is, it's complex and highly specialised. There's no way that this is some kind of joke.

So the Myriad exists. Whatever that means. It doesn't make everything you've heard about the Myriad automatically true, but it opens up a lot of possibilities.

You called the Myriad a fairy tale when Number 6 mentioned it to you, but they're more like an urban myth. Everyone's heard the stories about people who turn down alleys they've never seen before and finding themselves in streets with only a single building on it. The men at the door are expecting them. They've been waiting for a long time. Others, finding themselves lost and out of place, wander unceasingly until they find themselves at the Myriad's doors, and realise this was always their destination. And so on. They always enter the building, driven by a strange compulsion, and are forever lost in the maze of of unearthly rooms and shifting corridors, with doors vanishing when you turn away and others appearing when you look back. What happens then is left ambiguous, as is the real identity of the Myriad and their purpose for drawing in sparkers. (The victims are never normals for some reason.)

You don't find the Myriad. The Myriad finds you. And then they wait for you to come to them, for as long as it takes.

If the Myriad are real, then you're willing to bet that they circulated the stories themselves to help keep their presence secret and all evidence to the contrary ridiculous. Or else this is some kind of elaborate and bizarre character assassination. You can imagine that kind of reputation it makes recruitment awkward, all the same.

But if not a trap for sparkers, what is the Myriad? Number 6 called them merely unregistered sparkers. Esser described them as a secret society responsible for the successes of some of the most powerful people in the city. He also mentioned that they wanted to see Number 6 dead, but not why. You suppose it's possible that Number 6 is poaching their potential recruits for his army, although you're not sure that's a good enough reason for that level of enmity. It could just be that they don't like other people knowing they exist in any capacity beyond bogeymen.

You turn your attention back to the parchment.

The only likely contender for a beacon is the gyroscope. Number 6 told you that whatever Dupont gave you would be key for finding the Myriad. You pick up the piece of string from the desk and take the gyroscope out of your pocket with your other hand. Once the string is properly coiled, you place the toy on the black dot and yank out the string.

You watch as it spins with a quiet whir, more or less in place, and then it starts to glow softly. Light collects in the grooves on the bronze metal, tracing them brightly.

Beacon activated. Stand by for directions.

Abruptly the gyroscope stops, light extinguished, and falls over. Underneath it lines of ink snake outwards, filling the parchment. Leaning forward and removing the gyroscope, it becomes apparent that you're looking at a map of Victraedis, with your location at the centre of it. Once the map fills the face of parchment, a strip of paper to the right clears itself and words start to appear in it. Directions. At the same time a line of red ink runs through the streets, beginning at your office building and ending at another building simply labelled 'The Myriad'. You don't recognise the street it's located on. Of course not.

At the bottom of the paper a little more space is cleared, and the parchment repeats its demand for you to make your way to the base as soon as possible.

You respond by putting it back in the black box. The silver crest, the gyroscope and the string all follow. Number 6's note and the envelope it came in are put in the ash tray and set alight, the one hundred in cash finding a home in your wallet.

There's a safe in the corner of your office. After a few minutes of fiddling around with the lock and attempting to remember the combination, it glides open. There's nothing in there at the moment, and there hasn't been for a while, but occasionally it's useful to have a safe place for case-related items. This is one of those times. You don't like the idea of leaving the black box lying around.

Once the box is secure, you make sure that no scraps of Number 6's handwriting remain unburned, scoop the flowers back up and lock both your office door and the waiting room door behind you. Neither would stop someone fully intent on breaking in, but the act of turning the key makes you feel better. Not that you're entirely sure what you're feeling so nervous about.

Maybe it's Number 6. Maybe it's the Myriad. Maybe it's a severed hand encased in ice, somehow valuable enough that a person had to die for it. Maybe it's your name, written by a dying man in his own blood. A man you'd never met. A man whose name is etched in silver on a crest lying in your safe, two or three metres behind you.

A few minutes later you're out in the sunshine, but the sense of unease is still haunting you. It only takes a few minutes to get from your office to your apartment. You decide to walk.

The flowers draw a few glances, but at least they distract from the black eye.

You cut through a few alleys, savouring the coolness of the shadows after the glare of the sunlight. You turn a corner, mere metres from rejoining a main street, but stop there.

There's a body slumped on the ground. You can't tell if they're still breathing, not at this distance. You quickly glance around, but no one else is standing in the gloom with you.

What do you do?