Chapter 234: Dream Messages
Siobhan
Month 9, Day 8, Wednesday 9:00 p.m.
Siobhan—disguised as yet another alternate version of her female form—took a rather nice carriage from Liza’s to the Undreaming Order headquarters. It cost a couple of extra silvers, but she was tired of walking back and forth across what felt like the entire city over and over. She was, technically, rich now, and could afford to pamper her weary feet. Even if the idea of paying for unnecessary things like suspension spells and a nice padded seat still made her cringe.
The carriage offered all the local newspapers, except for The People’s Voice, which she wasn’t sure really counted. Several of the headlines were talking about a recent attack on Osham. Siobhan chose one and began to skim through it, wondering if it had anything to do with the Architects. The details of the actual attack were vague, and the article mostly focused on how Osham was demanding “restitution.” Except their demands were excessive and ridiculous.
She didn’t finish reading the article by the time the carriage arrived at her destination, but she could guess how the High Crown would respond. He would be outraged and double down with bluster and the metaphorical great fist of his power. Siobhan snorted with distaste and hopped out.
The area in front of the building had been spruced up with some repair and cleaning spells, and even the street looked strangely new. People were apparently repaying their debts in whatever way they could. Again, guards were stationed nearby, but they had none of the stoic reserve that she would have expected, smiling and greeting people who passed, often by name. One eyed her, and she smiled back, hoping she seemed harmless. She looked nothing like herself, once again, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t guess at her identity anyway.
Siobhan stepped through the artificial darkness of the entryway and into the large, circular room beyond.
Over a hundred people were seated at rickety old school desks within, though the room could have fit twice that number. A platform had been raised to hold a man and a large chalkboard, and the lights had been turned up bright enough so that people could see without squinting. The Undreaming Order was holding a math lesson.
The kitchen was busy, no doubt preparing the meal that had lured these people here for basic education. Siobhan moved around the outer wall of the room, feeling somewhat surreal as she watched children and adults alike take notes. ‘This is happening because of me. I am indirectly providing a basic education to a hundred people.’ Suddenly, she felt that she might understand why Oliver so enjoyed philanthropy. It was a kind of power that felt different from mastering magic. It wasn’t as heady an achievement, but she felt a deep, warm satisfaction.