"You've tortured my sister and my brother," the young man said and put the balaclava on the table. "I don't like snot-nosed aristocrats who abuse honest, working folks just for the fun of it."
"Let it be, Seán," the high-voiced man said calmly. "You know his battle is our battle."
"What, you're a Para and you're an Aristo?" Sawyer said. "I thought this was an Aristo organization."
"No." Seán smiled victoriously. "The Scouts are a mixed organization. If that's a problem, the stairs are over there. Be my guest."
Sawyer bit his cheek and looked at Christian, who was vigorously making a 'suck it up' face.
"Fine," Sawyer said. "I'm not ashamed to admit that we need help. I've been attacked twice by now, once by a Wraith and once by a strange bloke who looked like a psychopath."
"He was probably Wraithing," the high-voiced man said and came over to the table. "I'm Perry, by the way."
Sawyer inclined his head, but Piper stared at Perry with his mouth open.
"Wraithing?"
"That's what we call the process of becoming a Wraith. You gradually lose your identity and your blood, and consequently, your body and especially your eyes begin to reflect that. Outsiders often think that the person is going mad."
"You lose your blood?" Piper blurted.
"Yes. Blood is important to Shadow. Not blood as in heritage, mind you, but actual blood."
"You mean he's a vampire?" Christian asked with a grimace.
"Not exactly. He doesn't have fangs and he won't slash your throat." Perry sat in a chair and nudged Seán to pour him some wine. "But when you open your mind to him, he will suck out the blood from your circulation little by little, drop by drop. Blood is the elixir of life, and whenever Shadow gets to devour another follower's blood, two things happen: the blood strengthens Shadow's soul and turns poisonous. After it has given its power to Shadow, it becomes one of his most vicious weapons: cursed blood. If you get any of that in your eyes, it worms its way into your heart and rots it. And you can guess how hard it is to shield your eyes if a shower of blood hits you."
Piper shuddered.
"How fast does the whole Wraithing process work? I haven't been able to find much information about it."
"It varies a lot. Some people Wraith for years or even decades, others turn into full-fledged Wraiths within weeks. It depends on your personality and mind, things like that. A mind with a lot of fear and hatred changes more rapidly."
"So, how do you fight them?" Sawyer asked.
Seán turned around and clicked his fingers at the two unnamed men sitting by the wall. The taller one picked a bag from the floor and brought it to the table.
"There's a fundamental concept you must understand before you can block Shadowsong." Seán took out several sheets of paper. "How much do you know about Shadowsong?"
"We have The Chronicles of Shadow, so we know that it originates from Shadow," Sawyer said and examined the papers Seán had laid out in front of him. "I figured that since Sono is the creator of Silversong and Speaksong, he plays into this somehow."
"True," Seán said. "According to Book of Sono, Sono created Silversong and Speaksong to be a natural part of the Magi, a vessel of help in everyday life. However, Shadow's followers claim that Shadow wants to empower us, and that's why his chant language is much more powerful. But in reality... Perry?"
Perry stood up and murmured a chant. A faintly golden figure sprung up in midair, a little girl. She was sitting and playing with a fabric doll, her two thick braids swinging on her shoulders as she walked the doll on the ground. Suddenly, another figure, an adult, crept in from the corner of the room, pulled out a staff and pointed it at the girl. Tiny, sparkly stones exploded from the staff like fireworks, and the girl slapped her hands on her ears. Her mouth twisted in pain, but there was no sound. The adult figure didn't move; his lips kept moving rapidly while the girl keeled over and twitched on the ground, grabbing her eyes and pulling her braids like a maniac.
"Stop it!" Piper jumped up. "I don't want to watch, I already get it that he's crushing her brain!"
Perry lowered his staff, and the golden figures disappeared.
"This was a Transprint of an actual situation we managed to capture a while ago. The girl's father had written an article about the Paraforce for Magi Observer. And note, this family are Paramagi."
"Did they kill all of the family?" Sawyer took a glass and poured in some wine. It tasted cheap, but his throat was too dry to care.
"No, just the girl. They forced the parents to watch, of course."
"Just for writing an article," Piper said and collapsed in his chair. "Can I have some more wine, too?"
"You've studied the Force. Ever wondered why there are so few articles about them?" Seán asked as he filled Piper's glass.
"Well, I don't any more." Piper emptied his glass with one good swig.
"It's good that you already understand the basics," Perry said. "And you." He looked at Sawyer. "You are a real whiz in Silversong, or so I've heard. This'll probably be pretty easy for you."
He gave everyone a sheet of paper, Introduction to Shadowsong, and took out a tatty quill.
"Shadow and Sono are polar opposites; only Sono can stand up to Shadow and vice versa. Our opponents draw from Shadow's power by evoking him with a command, which you can see here." He tapped at the words varjojen valtias on Sawyer's paper, leaving ink blots all over the text. "Apart from that, Shadowsong consists of special incantations interspersed in either Silversong or Speaksong, depending on the user. These incantations are often called Black Prophesies because they come via prophetic means to some of the Shadowsong masters."
"How exactly do we block Shadowsong?" Sawyer asked. "I'd like to see some concrete examples."
"By countering their commands with the only power that is capable of it: opening our chants with the Evoke Command for Sono." Perry underlined the words laulujen valtias on Sawyer's paper. "Then we do what's called 'ripping' Shadowsong. We listen to the opponent's chant and negate it. For example, if they're chanting a brown chair red, we order the chair not to change its color. We do this for every single request in their chant. It may sound easy, but with Silversong in particular, it's not. As you know, Silversong chants can consist of several layered requests, so we're talking about a task that's very much like simultaneous translation."
"I used the Evoke Command for Sono when the Wraithing bloke attacked me, and it actually worked," Sawyer said. "Isn't repeating the Evoke Command enough to make them falter?"
"No. The Force member attacking you probably didn't realize what you were doing. In a real fight situation, ripping Shadowsong is no child's play. It is very draining both physically and mentally, and you absolutely have to know your own chant language, or you could end up with a disaster."
"Doesn't that mean we must learn those Black Prophesies, then?" Christian asked. "We can't possibly negate their chants if we have no idea what they're saying."
"True in a sense, but the Black Prophesies aren't functional commands. They're used to empower the chants and inject more of Shadow's power into them. The actual requests are in Silversong and Speaksong," Seán said. "The Black Prophesies use grammar differently, though, and they've been constructed in a very complex way, which is why they may easily make you fumble unless you have superb knowledge of your own chant language."
"Don't we have any such commands from Sono?" Sawyer asked. "There's quite an imbalance if they inject a Black Prophecy every thirty seconds, and all we have is the Evoke Command."
Perry and Seán exchanged looks.
"You need to read up on Sono and Shadow for that," Seán said. He bent down to rummage through the bag and lifted three fat stacks of papers on the table. "We've compiled a study course for ripping Shadowsong, and that's all you need for now. It has all known Shadowsong chants and Black Prophesies to date, and it's continually updated with new chants that come about. Here's a copy for each of you. I suppose that you, Mr. Satoya-Sabinsky, know how to make copies of these for your friends, considering what a genius you are in Silversong."
Sawyer ignored the sarcastic tone and glared at the bound heap of paper.
"Is this it? I thought you could actually train us."
"We offer training courses, yes, but those are only for prospective members of the Scouts," Perry said apologetically. "This course has everything you need to block Shadowsong."
"Look, we're underfunded and understaffed," Seán said crossly. "If it was possible to arrange a training course for everyone who asks for it, we would, but our current members are already overworked with helping victims of Shadowsong and trying to keep up with the Force. And that reminds me, we function on donations. From what I can tell, you all can afford an extensive one."
"Don't mind him." Perry slapped Seán on the hand. "We would definitely be grateful for donations."
"Sure," Sawyer said, trying to suppress the anger in his voice. "If this course helps us, I'll give you all the money I have on me."
"We take checks, too," Seán said.
Christian and Piper both dug out their wallets and lay down some money on the table.
"Generosity truly runs in the veins of the Aristos. Or not." Seán sneered as he swept the notes and coins into a small bag.
"Shut up, now!" Perry said sharply and extended his gloved hand to shake Sawyer's. "We are thankful. Right now, this course is what we can do for you, but if you ever need more help, just contact us."
"How exactly do we do that?" Sawyer asked icily. "Darby is not involved in our efforts, so I'd prefer another channel."
"Sure." Perry tore a piece from a sheet of paper on the table and started scribbling a note. His writing was bouncy and messy, and Sawyer felt his brow wrinkle. It reminded him of something...
"Here's the number of our Hotline." Perry gave the smudged note to Sawyer. "It's an anonymous Squilli, so nobody can trace it. It's monitored 24/7."
"Much obliged." Sawyer took the note and placed it in his chest pocket. "If this is all, we'll take our leave. We have a long way to go."
"I'll see you to the door," Perry said.
When Christian and Piper were climbing into the carriage, Sawyer turned around.
"You know, Perry, I knew almost right away that Seán hated me. Likewise, I know that I know you. Your handwriting and your voice are very familiar."
There was an audible grin in Perry's voice.
"Maybe you do know me, Sawyer," he whispered. "Maybe you do indeed."