...the bright light of a summer's afternoon. Blue skies can be seen through the windows, the sounds of a market in full swing waft in on a light breeze. Through two of the windows, towers spike into the sky, the third looks out over unspoilt countryside.

Three tall, arched windows pierce the side of the tower, beneath each a scribe's desk placed to make best use of the light. At each desk sits a grey-robed scribe, each with a page of ornate manuscript in front of them, working on illuminations with a selection of brushes, inks and pens. Only one turns and acknowledges the three figures standing, somewhat stunned, near the doorway to the lower levels.

In the centre of the room, an ornate spiral staircase leads upwards, faint voices drifting down.

Jamie's eyes went wide as he looked around cautiously. He did a quick check to make sure he was alright. Arms and legs still intact: check. Sword and armor still here: check. No broken bones or open wounds: check. Magically induced hallucinations of the world before the Rain of Fire: barely suppressed whimper.

Jamie slowly sheathed his sword and sidled up to the scribe that nodded at him. Leaning over he whispered, "Uh, excuse me, bu...uh...I think I took a wrong turn somewhere. Could you...uh...sorta tell me where I am?"

The scribe carefully put down his pen, placed a hand first on his forehead and then on Jamie's. When he spoke it was in a clear, careful, slow, and utterly patronising, stage-whisper.

"You. Are. In. The. Grey. Tower. It. Is. Almost. Lunchtime. Any. More. Stupid. Questions?"
Nathyn glanced around first in alarm, and then in appraisal as he sheathed his sword with unconscious ease. Thoughts flitted across his eyes and then, in as close to the formal tongue as he could manage, addressed the same scribe that Jaime had questioned, "Forgive our intrusion, good sir, but could I impose on you a moment longer and have you tell what date is today?"

The scribe looked from Jamie round to Nathyn and back to Jamie. Jamie gave him a sheepish grin.

The date he gives you makes no sense. It's three years before the Night of Fire.

Dirnal looked about carefully [does he have his mirrors, the lantern etc? Nope, dropped those on the stairs] then cast a speculative eye towards the Three scribes who sat at each desk. [Momentarily reaching out to the stream he sought guidance from those within.] Where be One and What mummery be afoot; hath One been subject to mannite sorcery to be transported, without as much as a how do, into the grey tower. He enquired

Nothing came back. The stream was silent. Straining to reach further there were the faint echoes of something at the farthest reaches of his mind but they were slippery and nigh-on impossible to pin down. The voices were gone.

"Sanctahl's Light," Nathyn swore softly, his face registering the shock that sent sharp-taloned prickles up his back. If the scribe's statement was true, they had somehow traveled back to the time Before; before the catastrophe, before his failure.

Shaking his head to clear it, he focused again on the scribe, his voice now firmer and carrying an edge of steel. "We need to speak to the master of this tower."

"Top floor. That's three levels up from here. Now. Only fair, one favour in return for another. What d'ye reckon would look best here in the top corner? Demon, seven-pointed star or prisoner in an iron maiden?"

Looking at the illuminated work already completed, Nathyn saw the outline of the words "Help me", lavishly decorated with chains, the "l" of "help" tethered to the "p" by a spiked collar. He blinked and the page read "In the beginning..."

"So," said the scribe, "which one? Angel, star or cloud?"

The former Wayferer's eyes narrowed, flicking to the scribe then back down to the page. "I suppose it would depend on what impression you'd want to give the reader," he answered slowly. "I'd be glad to offer what assistance I can give. Could you show me some more of your work?" he asked, fixing his gaze fully on the scribe.

"Help yourself. It's all in the binding room on the next floor." The scribe looked at the page he was working on again, his eyes clouded for a second, then cleared. "Think I'm going to go for a key here." And he picked up a pencil, began working on the outline of an ornate lock.

Jamie looked from Nathyn to the scribe and back, trying to make some sense of this insane situation. It could be worse. The grin was still plastered on his face, along with a crazed look in his eyes. Could have been eaten by the walls. He looked back towards Dirnal and the door. I'm just back in time. He looked at the paper and the absurdity of it. *Or hallucinating. Yeah, none of this could be real.* Jamie grabbed Nathyn's arm. "Come on. Let's leave this nice man to his work." * I’m not dead. It could be worse.* ((Amended to keep things moving))

Cradling his head in both hands Dirnal moved to the nearest corner and slumped. His back against the wall he huddled there trying to fathom what he had done to be separated from the stream. No... he was sure T'was nothing he had done it must have been the scribes, or their master who used magic's on him thereby separating him from his kinfolk and exposing him to something worse than death.

Nathyn stared at Jaime for a few seconds with a frown, his expression like that of someone who's noticing a mole on his friend's face where one hadn't been before. If Jamie noticed the look, he didn't react to it. He shook his head slightly and nodded in agreement. "I believe our answers lie above us."

He walked over to the gnome and spoke gently, "Come, Master Dirnal. We must move on."

Jamie looked back at the gnome. He didn't see the lantern anywhere. Jamie gave the scribe one last overlarge smile and headed for the stairs.

Dirnal recoiled as far as he could From the mannite, pressing himself further into the stone wall. From between splayed fingers he stared blankly at the light that pierced the room from the narrow windows.

Nathyn frowned in concern and crouched down to look at Dirnal more closely. "Dirnal? Are you all right?" he asked, his voice laced with worry. He glanced towards Jaime to see what he was up to.

Jamie stood back a few paces. The smile was gone from his face now that his back was turned to the scribes. He watched Nathyn and the gnome warily.

With his eyes fixed on the beams of light Dirnal moaned and began to rock form side to side. As he did so he mubled to himself Noooo, Noooo, Noooo.

A grim smile grew on Jamie's face as he watched the gnome whimper. He made no move to assist. He was enjoying watching the gnome suffer.

Nathyn's eyes narrowed. He stood up and faced the former criminal squarely. "Jamie?" he asked in a severe tone. "Are you in any way responsible for this?" He gestured with his head to encompass not only Dirnal's discomfiture, but their current situation in general. His hand was not resting on the pommel of his sheathed sword, but it had not strayed far from it.

Jamie gaped, completely blindsided by the accusation. "Me?!" He glanced back at the scribes and lowered his voice, hissing the words out through clenched teeth. "This is all that damn halfman's fault." He jabbed a finger at Dirnal, making it perfectly clear who he blamed.

Nathyn's stare was unrelenting. "I'm not so sure about that. The Hammerhands were quick to find us, and I don't see Dirnal willingly leading them, considering their opinion of him. How did they know where we were, Jaime?"

Jamie met the other man's stare evenly. "I don't have nothing to do with them. If they were after him, it'd be real easy to have the bastard followed."

Nathyn answered Jaime's statement with a nod of acknowledgment, but he frowned and rubbed his head as if confused by the revelation. After a second, his face cleared and his gaze returned to Jaime, bearing the steel of resolve now instead of accusation.

"Jaime," he asked in a reasonable tone. "Why are you so sure Dirnal's at fault for all of this?"

Nathyn's sudden change in tone again caught Jamie off guard. He looked from Nathyn down to Dirnal, then around towards the door they had come threw. He still didn't see the lantern anywhere. "Who else could'a done it? He as much as admitted he saw humans as a plague and wanted them dead. He tried to get rid of us, fucked it up and got stuck here with us."

Jamies slanderous comments registered on Dirnal's subconscious "Liar, liar, liar" he repeated tearing his eyes from the beam of light to stare at the longleg as if he'd been looking at an obnoxious bug. The watchman glared back, his face full of contempt.

Nathyn's jaw firmed. "You've got no proof of that. In fact..." He paused with a grimace and ran his hand along his forehead again as if trying to clear cobwebs stuck there.

"Jaime," he asked, trying to maintain his composure, "Are you carrying something in your pack? Something from... Before?"

Before the watchmen could react, to his enraged declaration, Dirnal rushed towards the stairs, scrambling to the top, he flung open the door and darted through it.  Slowly, silently, it swung closed.

"Shit!" Jamie turned about to run after the gnome, but stopped and looked back at Nathyn. "Whatever you're babbling about can wait till later. We have to stop that little rat-bastard before he kills both of us."

Nathyn frowned but didn't waste time arguing with Jaime. He sped on and up the stairs, intent on reaching the gnome before the violence-prone guardsman did. With a last cautious glance at the scribes Jamie dashed along with him. If he could just get to the gnome first, he could finish this and go home.

Dirnal found himself in a brightly lit room with several large windows, hanging frames contain the works of the scribes below, illuminated manuscripts hanging everywhere.  Around the walls were cabinets to about a meter high with lots of drawers.  A spiral staircase stood over by one wall leading up to the next level

The thudding of heavy watchman feet that pursued him was ominous, At a glance Dirnal took in the room, darting away from the entry and out of view. Moving quickly amongst the hanging frames helped to conceal his presence, With a quiet leap he grabbed a heavyset tapestry and climbed upwards away from his pursuers.

~~<(#)>~~

The door closed behind Nathyn and Jamie with an ominous clunk.  Spinning around, it had gone, a tapestry covering plain stone wall where it had been.  The illuminated manuscripts clipped to the standing frames around the room fluttered in a breeze that was hard to pin down.  Someone - something - moved along the top of the tapestries, clinging to the shadows, trying to be invisible.  Something else moved amongst the frames, dodging in and out of sight.

Jamie looked at the solid wall where the door had been and the blood drained from his face. "No."

Nathyn grabbed Jaime's shoulder as they stood there. The guardsman whipped around, tearing his sword free of its sheath, lowering it only slightly when he recognized Nathyn. Jamie looked past the Wayfarer, terror clear upon his face, looking for the enemy that he knew wasn't there. The enemy he knew he couldn't fight. The enemy that was all around them, waiting.

Nathyn raised his hands reassuringly and spoke quickly but calmly. "Jaime, in Sanctahl's name, listen! Whatever's going on, we need to stick together. That's all three of us, understand? Whatever you think of Dirnal, he's not responsible for what's happened." He frowned. "And I believe neither are you, despite..."

He shook his head, frustrated at not being able to clear his mind of the strange thoughts that slid and twisted around his head. "We're in a battle, man, but we are not each other's enemy. Concentrate! Don't let fear blind you! We need to find Dirnal, but for Light's sake, don't kill him!"

Jamie was breathing heavily, his eyes darting around wildly. "We have to get out of here. We have to... have to..." Jamie gulped air before continuing and shifted his feet. He wasn't stuck. Not yet. "The gnome is the key. Have to get... have to find him. I don't think... Hell, I don't know what to think, but we have to get out of here." Jamie gave Nathyn a pleading look. "Whatever he did... no, whatever happened. The halfman is as fucked as we are right now and I'll take all the help I can get."

Nathyn placed a hand on Jaime's shoulder and said calmly, his words ringing with sincere confidence, "Jaime, we will escape this place. All of us. We're all in this together and together we will defeat our true enemy. It seeks to split us up, to doubt and fear each other, for it fears the strength of us united."

He flashes a fierce grin as he claps Jaime in the shoulder. "Keep your wit about you. It's helped you survive this long. Now, let's go collect Dirnal and get out of here."

Reaching the top of the tapestry Dirnal stretched out along its supporting-bar as a resounding thud of the door echoed trough the room, as it slammed shut, prompted a hasty look in that direction. Steadying himself he started looking about the area, sensing the mannites were close, and there was something else, something trying to hide in the shadows, something that was watching them, something that was waiting for them... He swallowed hard, the thoughts of what to do, raced through his mind followed by why didn't mannites listen, why do they treat Gnomes so badly... why, Why, WHY... Holding firm to the support bar as he slowly scanned the room for the... something else...

Jamie took a couple of steps into the room, away from the walls. He looked to Nathyn, his face still pale and eyes still wide, but his voice was calm and cold. "If we don't get out of here soon, we're all dead." He spoke with certainty as though he knew this to be true. He kept shifting his feet, making sure his boots didn't stay setting on the stone floor for too long. He looked around. There was something else in the room. He tried to follow it with his eyes as it darted among the frames, sword at the ready. 

Jamie got a better look at the thing among the books. It was the gnome and he was readying some kind of bow. Jamie knew the gnome wanted him dead and now the bastard was going to try. Well he wasn't about to let that happen. It would be self defense. Nathyn would understand. Then they could end this nightmare and go home. He charge across the room at the figure behind the frames, ready to run that damned halfman through. 

Nathyn spied the threat at the same time. "Jaime, no!" he cried out as Jaime charged recklessly at the half-hidden form. He rushed behind his teammate, unsure as to what action to take but intent on preventing unnecessary bloodshed.

As he moved, Nathyn caught sight of another creature in the room.  Clinging to the tapestry over to his right was a dumpy grey-white thing a little larger than a Gnome.  Glimpsed from the corner of his eye he couldn't believe he'd missed it before.  It seemed so obviously there. Desperately wracking his brain he came up blank. Could this be what was causing their current tension?

Torn between two potential threats, Nathyn pauses, his sword in his hand alhtough he does not recall drawing it. In desperation , he calls out to the room while keeping his eye on the form on the tapestry, "Dirnal, in the name of the Light! We are not your enemies! Whoever our true enemy is, he seeks to divide us! Show yourself so that we can face the real threat together!"
 
Ha"  Dirnal responds withougt thought. Grippng the pole firmly as he quietly chastising himself for such folley. He's eyes darting from the something to the mannites and back then to any means of escape form this torment and those who mean him no good. Suddnely the thought that the something else is either a changeling, a cousin or himself caught up in another enchantment by of these insidious mannites, he slips from the crossbar clamberring down the tapestry and dashes towards the exit. "Flee cousin" he shouts closely followed by "Harm no the innocent Gnomefolk Thee wicked Mannites" he taunts hoping to prevent them from injuring his other self as he dashes up the spiral stairs