'Are you Master Falores?' came a voice from the far side of the sanctuary. A priest about Ironfoot's age was coming down one of the aisles opposite him.
'That's right,' said Ironfoot. 'I appreciate your taking the time to speak with me.'
'I am Guide Throen,' the priest said, bowing. 'I am properly addressed as Guide, if you wish to do me that honor.'
'A pleasure,' said Ironfoot. 'Now, this is going to sound a bit odd, but I'm in a hurry, and I'm hoping we can skip courtesy and just get down to business.'
'Any way I can help, although your sprite left me a bit confused. Are you here on behalf of the university, or on behalf of the Foreign Ministry?'
'Which will make you more forthcoming?'
Throen smiled. He had a serious look about him, though, that the smile didn't temper much. 'Either way, I am at your service.'
'Thank you,' said Ironfoot. 'I have some fairly in-depth questions about your cynosure here; I can't give you much of an explanation for that, but I can tell you that this is a matter of vital importance to the Crown.'
Throen was nonplussed by this. 'I'm not sure I understand.'
'Just tell me about it, if you'd be so kind.'
'The cynosure,' he said slowly. 'It is the central symbol of the Chthonic faith.'
'Yes. But what is it for?'
Throen looked confused. 'It is the mystical dodecahedron. Twelve faces, one for each of the bound gods. Five sides per face, one for each of earth, air, fire, water, and re. Twenty vertices to represent the twenty stations of repentance. Thirty vertices to represent the thirty virtues.
'It is placed on the altar during holiday services; one just ended about an hour ago. I was about to return it to its cabinet just before you arrived.'
'It has some rather interesting reitic properties,' said Ironfoot. 'Can you tell me what it does?'
Throen faltered. 'Its thaumatic aspect is designed to ... heighten the awareness of the faithful. Some herbs are burnt, a simple mnemonic recited. That is all.'
He was holding something back. 'Are you sure?' said Ironfoot. 'Because I'm channeling Insight through it, and it seems a bit more complex than that.'
'Why are you asking these questions?' said Throen, stiffening. 'I'm glad to help the Crown, of course, but this is highly irregular.'
Ironfoot wasn't sure how to proceed. It would have been a good idea, in retrospect, to have brought Sela along with him. 'I don't mean any disrespect to you, Guide Throen, but I think there's more to your dodecahedron than you're telling me, and believe it or not, it may be the most important information you've ever dispensed, so please tell me the truth.'
'Are you threatening me?' said Throen.
'No. But I very much need you to tell me the truth.'
'These are the deepest mysteries of our faith,' said Throen. 'It's not the sort of thing one simply discusses with anyone who walks through the door.'
'I'm not just anyone,' said Ironfoot. 'That's what I'm trying to tell you.'
Throen thought briefly, uncertain. 'Fine,' he said. He reached into his robe and took out a small prayer book and a packet of herbs. 'When the service begins, these herbs are burned in the thurible, along with a few drops of blood. The Guide's blood, that is. Mine. The herbs are a combination of things: some fairly common, others decidedly more rare. We read the incantations here.' He opened the book to a well-thumbed page and indicated an incantation spelled out in angular runic High Fae script. 'That activates the focusing charm.'
'This incantation is just a call to a stored binding,' said Ironfoot. 'What does it actually do?'
Throen looked confused. 'I've already told you; it focuses the reverence of the faithful.'
Ironfoot held up the herbs and sniffed them. The smell, like that at Selafae. Missing only the added texture of burning blood. What did this mean?
'Do you even know what the stored bind does?' said Ironfoot.
'I'm not a thaumaturge,' said Throen, beginning to lose his temper. 'I'm a Guide. This is a sacred object, not a spellbox.'
'I don't think you're going to like this,' said Ironfoot. 'But I've got to take your cynosure with me.'
