Nial inclined over the journal of Lord Varo, fuming in what he felt was righteous anger. If his logic and his emotions did not fool him, Alexander was the prime catalyst for everything that was wrong with the island. Ashley must be found and confronted. Alexander must be destroyed, immortal or not. The shrines to the island must be destroyed and its people freed from the curse laid upon them by the malignant forces at work here, never to be held by its power again. Nial vowed that, no matter what else happened on this island, he would put the evil to rest. Well, either him or those that might come in his place. There could be no more Travo death knights. There could be no more poison in the wells and vile illness among this people. There could be no more of the things that he had seen in the mind of that corrupted and twisted soul that a man named Derek had become and perpetuated through his progeny. No more. Either the island would cease to impose its will on this place through whatever evil had taken hold of it and allow its people to continue their lives as they would, or he would see to it that it no longer cast its shadow on the light. His befuddled mind had too easily latched onto that accursedly wonderful book after his magical mishap and that had led him to alternately lash out at others and withdraw from the company he thrived on. He would have to apologize to Jillian for that, he pondered, ruefully. Even so, that befuddlement seemed to be oddly clarifying for him. It was long overdue and this place, under the right circumstances, would finally provide the means. His floating school, theater and study would be either built here or brought directly here after construction. After the island was cleansed. If he could cleanse the island or bring it about, then perhaps this would be a great place from which to embark on the next stage of his great life quest.
Even so, this was all a dream, a plan closing around the moment. He shook his head and closed the journal, turning it into an item with a quick read of his spell book. He tucked it into a pocket as he read the words for wraithform out slowly. For now, the Lady Jillian Carmichael had his loyalty, as he had chosen some time ago. He had to return to her, based on that conviction, and make a report of this new finding. He would also take the opportunity to express his desires to her and the feeling of foreboding that sat on his mind like a cancer. Alexander had tried to appeal to his sense of unity, but failed to see how large Nial's vision of Tengri was. By limiting his view to this island, Nial thought, Alexander was not fighting or changing the small localized cancer into a truly benevolent force; he was placating it, feeding it, and putting it in a position where its influence could spread into the largest and most powerful empire the world had seen since the accursed Kale of his father's time. Nial chuckled as his body slipped into the ethereal, the ripples of its mist dancing across his skin. No wonder his ancestors had chosen no gods to rule them, but only spirits of great wisdom to guide them. Wise beings like Apollo understood that shared knowledge, wisdom and joy are better than this sort of thing.
Returning toward the Lord's chamber, where he saw Jillian last going, he pulled out his crystal ball and began looking around the island for what he needed. He had a list, and he was determined he would see it all, as quickly as he could. The watchtower, the brothel, the cathedral, the place of tithes, the mines, Alexander's keep, the slums, Ashley, Silvas, Brend, Windfall, the pool of the Styx. If he could build the tapestry and see the truth, then he could make the right changes or set them in motion and rid this place of its long-lived canker. Then, the light and wisdom of the Eternal Blue Heaven could penetrate the shadow that had come to rest here. Apollo and other gods of light and wisdom could hold sway. Most importantly, the people could establish a society of true peace and understanding that was a cloud of motes of light dancing on the same breezes and rising forever in the same warmth of combined light.
Now, to see what can be seen, to know what requires a personal appearance, and to speak with Jillian... and perhaps ask after Azura's well-being from that pompous, arrogant, self-important, and madenningly successful rogue who calls himself a sky-pirate. Nial paused in his current thinking only long enough to remind himself to have good manners as long as they seemed beneficial under the circumstances. He plastered a look of convincing benevolence on his face as he gazed into the crystal ball and floated on through the house in search of Jillian and a chance to speak his mind.
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