The professor: part 2
The professor: part 2
On the trail
The Triverse is
Mid-Earth, an alternate 1980s 1970s London
Max-Earth, a vision of the 26th century
Palinor, where magic is real
Previously: Professor Simova of Fountain University is on the run. Lola’s new rebel friends need to intercept him before the Bruglian guard catches up…
3203. Late Frostfall.
The outskirts of Tupu.
A rickety wooden bridge was the only easy way in or out of Tupu on foot. It was a village built on the expectation that its inhabitants and visitors would be arriving primarily by boat, along the Ktobl River, or else flying in from elsewhere. It was a koth settlement, after all, and they had little reason to trudge along the path through the swamps.
“The indignity of it all,” said Lykasra, tutting as they surveyed the bridge. “If I wasn’t looking after you kids, I’d have been here hours ago.” Flexing their wings, they elected to skip the bridge altogether, silhouetted momentarily against the moonlit sky, before landing on the far side, where the sodden ground wound its way up and between the oddly angular buildings.
“There’s usually a toll to pay,” Pylpo said. “A really annoying human with a big nose. Wears offensively green trousers.” She looked hesitantly across the bridge, then under it, as if expecting him to be lurking below. “Wonder where he is?”
“Let’s not question it too much,” Daryla said, leading the way.
The wooden beams creaked beneath their feet, an offshoot of the river rushing by below. Stretching out over the wide river, the village was perched partly on a small island and had been extended in all directions by the addition of buildings on stilts, and the incorporation of what had once been ships. It was a puzzle of a place, built from a seemingly random combination of materials and ideas. There were no roads to speak of, only planks set into the mud and wooden steps and walkways, some twisting up to reach structures built on top of each other.
It was dark, mysterious, evidently steeped in its own history, and absolutely perfect for a covert rendezvous. The air was thick and warm, insects buzzing around their heads. Needless to say, Lola was very excited. It was a little closer to working a case, too — meeting an informant, following a lead. It might even turn out that Professor Simova had information that could be useful against Chancellor Baltine and whatever was happening back home. A long shot, for sure, but if there was a chance of gathering evidence that could be used to help Clarke and the others, she had to take it.
Everything was wet, from the ground to the walls of the buildings. The wooden walkways and planks were an attempt to lift people out of the mud, but with only middling success. Tupu was a village that appeared to be slipping into the river, and it was something of a miracle that it hadn’t already been swept away.
The three of them caught up with Lykasra and headed into the village proper. “Remember,” they said, “low profile is the name of the game here. We meet our contact, get the Professor, and get out. Hopefully without anyone blinking an eye.”
“How did the Professor get all the way here on his own?” Lola had many questions, as the others may have noted on occasion.
“Wasn’t on his own,” Daryla said. “He’d have been picked up by a group closer to Bruglia. They’ll have escorted him this far; now it’s our turn.”
Lola still found it hard to remember that Daryla had been involved with the rebels for months, at least in a light capacity. They’d connected with her sometime after the encounter in the market, back when Lola and Clarke had been escorting a prisoner back to Mid-Earth. The whole time Lola had been living in Bruglia, trying to build a case against Baltine and find evidence against the conspiracy back on Mid-Earth, she’d kept her motivations hidden from Daryla. She was Baltine’s daughter, after all. How much easier would it have been if they’d worked together? At least all of that was out in the open, now.
“To the tavern, then!” Pylpo was as excitable as ever. Perhaps that was how her SDC colleagues had seen Lola, back when she’d first shown up at the office on Stamford and Coin.
“Low profile,” Lykasra said, their voice low and guttural, “remember?”
“Fine, but we’re in the middle of nowhere. And besides, this is koth territory.”
“Doesn’t mean you can trust everyone you meet,” Lykasra said, rolling their eyes.
The tavern was built into the repurposed hull of an old sailing ship, now lifted up and settled on the bank of the river. An entrance had been cut into the side of the hull, leaving a gaping maw of wooden teeth. Lanterns hung from the beams, their glass mottled and greened. The beat of live music thumped dimly from inside. Everywhere Lola looked, Tupu was being dragged back into the ground, into the river, nature doing its utmost to subsume the village.
A porch of sorts had been formed from the hull, shielded from the worst of the elements, leading through to the doorway that led within. The walls of the sheltered area were plastered with papers: advertisements for services, announcements from locals, warnings from religious leaders. Much of it was in languages Lola didn’t recognise, but one of the posters practically waved for her attention: a poster with drawings of two stern and dangerous individuals, standing back-to-back. She recognised them immediately even from the ink sketches: Halbad and Seline Gabreith, brother and sister leaders of the famed monster hunting crew ‘the Six Blades’.
“Oh my god,” she said, pointing. “Look! It’s the Six Blades. Halbad and Seline!”
Pylpo frowned. “Who?”
Leaning closer to the poster, Lykasra harrumphed. “Don’t know them.”
“They came to London, when we had a kengto incident.”
“I remember it,” Daryla said. “That was when I started to notice strange things happening in Bruglia. The kengto’s appearance in London was not an accident."
“They are so amazing,” Lola said, tapping her finger on the poster. “What does it say?”
Daryla leaned in closer. “They’re in the region, looking for work.”
“We should totally contact them.”
“Wonderful idea,” Lykasra said, clacking their beak. “They’re mercenaries. They work for the highest bidder. You’ve no idea what their politics are. Not to mention that we don’t have any monsters need killing.”
“Come on,” Daryla said, pulling a hood up to cover her head and lifting a mask over the lower part of her face. Of all of them, she was the most recognisable, even far from Bruglia. Fortunately, hiding one’s face was not unusual on Palinor, and especially in a region beset with all manner of unpleasant flying insects. She pushed open the door to the tavern and indicated for the rest of them to follow, as the music flooded out and into the evening.
The interior dropped down several steps, spread across the curve of hull’s interior. Stairs wound up to a balcony area, which looked like it might lead through to the above-deck cabins. Everything was tilted forty-five degrees, the old ship having been grounded on its side. It was enough to make Lola feel drunk without having had a single drink. A small band played on a raised platform at one end, a jazzy, improvised sound. The place was busy, packed with a mix of koth, aen’fa, humans and even some species that Lola didn’t immediately recognise. There was always so much more to learn about Palinor, even for someone who had lapped up everything she could read since she was a child. Compared to Bruglia it was noticeably more varied, with humans in the minority.
A long bar stretched the length of the room, with patrons sat at stools, studiously ignoring each other. More busy were the tables filling the main floor.
“Pylpo,” said Lykasra, “find us a table. Ideally with a good view of the entrance.”
As Pylpo scampered away, Lola took in the customers. A one-winged koth with an eye patch. A tall aen’fa with two gnarly-looking creatures on leashes sniffing around her ankles. A green, humanoid being, entirely naked, though covered by spiny fronds and appearing to have gills. The largest koth she’d ever seen, bat-like wings folded behind their back and curving diablos horns, sat on an enormous throne at the far end of the tavern, fawned over by a coterie of aen’fa and humans. There were stories everywhere she looked. At the bar was another medley of fascinating characters, but as Lola stared she became suddenly, abruptly aware that she recognised one of them.
Jyna, her friend on the Bruglian city guard, sat innocuously on a stool, drinking from a thick glass. Lola hadn’t recognised her immediately as she was out of uniform and her hair was loose, but her face, even seen from the side, was unmistakable.
“Shit,” Lola said, “I know someone here.”
Daryla shot her a confused look. “What? How is that possible?”
“Don’t look now, but I’m pretty certain that’s Jyna.”
It only took Daryla a second to recall the name. “The city guard who warned you to leave the city?”
“Yes, she’s at the bar.” Lola had turned away from the bar, in case Jyna glanced in their direction.
“The Bruglian guard have to be tracking Professor Simova,” Daryla said, putting a hand on Lykasra’s arm. “We have to abort, now. They’ve likely already got him.”
“Calm down, dear,” Lykasra said, smiling. “Krystyan’s been here for several days already. If Bruglian authorities are in town, we’ll handle them. He’ll already have marked them all.”
“If they see Lola, or me for that matter, they’ll try to arrest us.”
Lykasra bowed their head a little. “They are very welcome to try.”
“But—”
“They are here for Simova, not for you or Lola. We just need to get to him first. If anyone gets in our way, we’ll deal with them. The city guard is well outside of their jurisdiction, and won’t be calling on any backup this far south.”
Having had quite enough of all the bluster, Lola held up a hand. “Can we try something else first? Can I try talking to her?”
References & callbacks
Thanks for reading!
Here are some quick links to referenced earlier stories:
Updates & cool stuff
This chapter should have gone out last week, but I was waylaid by a bizarre and lingering illness. It started off as a simple cold, then turned into 100% brain fog that left me insensible on the sofa, segued into some kind of sinus migraine thing, and rendered me entirely incapable of getting the chapter done.
I had several days off work, which in theory would have allowed me time to write the chapter, at least, but I found myself unable to conjure the words. Where I’m normally a pretty fast writer, I was suddenly challenged to even slog through fifty words. It was actually quite alarming — that building anxiety of what if I don’t get better? There have been many stories of people suffering from long Covid who have never been able to get back to their old lives, and that was preying on my mind form much of last week.
Fortunately it did pass, although I’m still feeling a strange, long-tail lethargy. Grim.
’ newsletter is well worth subscribing to if you’re interested in the evolving media/entertainment landscape. Here’s one of his recent ones:
(don’t worry, it’s not just Substack-about-Substack stuff)
Simon links to a Vulture article which has got my brain whirring. There’s something about the way commercial interests and practicalities generate and influence artistic formats which I’m going to explore in a future article.
Lastly: If I ever make a game, I’ll most likely attempt to use Citizen Sleeper as the structural framework. It’s such a clever system of timers, story snippets and incentives. There’s a demo of the second game on Steam which is worth your time:
Right, on to the notes…
Author notes
Yes, there are Monkey Island references in this chapter.
One of the benefits of Lola having to run away from Bruglia is that it gives us the opportunity to explore other corners of Palinor. That’s going to be a lot of fun for the next couple of storylines, after which her flashback chapters will link back up with the main timeline. It’ll all make sense in the end.
In case you missed it, I wrote about the excitement and dangers of flipping a story on its head in the Monday newsletter:
Whether I manage to pull off the Triverse shift remains to be seen. What I can say is that we’re very much entering into the final stretch of the book, though exactly how long that stretch is going to be remains a little fuzzy. Certainly through the end of this year, and I expect a little ways in 2025.
Perhaps an early Spring finale? That’s not impossible. Endings are by far the most stressful time when writing a serial, as it’s when all the strands have to cleverly weave themselves together. There’s a real strain for writers in that effort, of having to wrangle plot more directly without compromising characters. It’s so often when stories fall on their faces.
Thanks again for reading — see you in the comments/next week!
Largo Embargo FTW!
Yes, by all means let Lola talk to a woman who has already helped her in the current situation. 🙂
Some chapters one can tell the author is really having fun building the environment.