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The door to Azem’s office was closed and locked.
As if that were not deterrent enough, a magical seal had been hastily applied. Warnings flashed in eye-searing red text across the stone. “Azem is not in!” it read, along with “No trespassing, please!” and “That means you, Emet-Selch!”
It was not deterrent enough. When Emet-Selch glared at the seal, dedicating a frankly unnecessary amount of willpower to disabling it, it curled away from him and dissolved as if ashamed of itself. The lock similarly fell open under the force of his glare, and he shoved the door open and stomped inside.
It was hard to tell, at first glance, if the room was occupied. Azem’s office was habitually cluttered, and the nature of that clutter changed from day to day. On occasion it was stacks of books strewn about atop priceless scrolls and scattered leaflets; at other times, it was a veritable maze of crystals, any of which might throw out an illusion of disorienting light and sound if touched incautiously. Today, for reasons known only to Azem, it was a landscape of plush toys, each and every one a caricature of a different species that inhabited the star.
Emet-Selch was in no mood for Azem’s nonsense. With a snap of his fingers, he banished the toys to Azem’s suite, where they rightfully belonged. If Azem’s living space was so flooded with plush animals that they couldn’t make it through the front door, then so be it. That was Azem’s fault and Azem’s problem to solve.
The toys vanished in an explosion of fur and stuffing, leaving the office relatively clear.
There was still no sign of Azem.
Emet-Selch’s eyes narrowed. With another impatient snap, the door swung closed behind him. The shutters snapped shut over the windows. His magick flowed across the walls of the room, blocking off the exits more effectively than Azem’s slapdash seal. Only then did he cross his arms and say, loudly and impatiently, “You know I can see you.”
There was no answer.
Emet-Selch’s brow furrowed. Enunciating each word slowly and clearly, he said, “You cannot hide from my sight.”
Silence.
“You especially cannot hide from my sight by sheltering beneath your desk.” Scowling, he stalked across the office, disturbing the thin layer of remaining cotton with each step. “Really, Azem? Under the desk? You are far too old for this. Have you no shred of dignity?”
He stopped, having rounded the desk and laid eyes on the wayward Traveler at last. As expected, Azem was far too tall to fully or comfortably cram themself into such a small space. Their head was already tilted back to watch Emet-Selch’s approach. As soon as they’d caught Emet-Selch’s eye, they said, “I would have thought you of all people believe I have no dignity left.”
Emet-Selch saw no reason to reply. He reached for Azem, fully intending to drag them out and make them answer for their misdeeds. Azem hastily scrunched into a tighter ball, scuttling away on their palms, as if they would be able to escape by pushing themself further under the desk.
Emet-Selch scoffed at the sheer absurdity of the thought—but then Azem’s face lit up with a devious grin, and he was struck with a terrible sense of foreboding.
He lunged forward, grasping for the front of Azem’s robes, but it was too late. Already Azem was sinking into the portal that had opened in the floor.
Emet-Selch’s fingers closed on thin air. He overbalanced, tipping over in a most undignified manner and scrabbling frantically to catch himself on the desk before he could fall facefirst into the portal.
While he fought to regain his composure, Azem made their escape. The last he saw of them, their entire body had almost completely vanished. Only their right hand stuck out from the portal, fingers wiggling in an insolent little wave, before it too was gone.
He had little time in which to act. Muttering imprecations under his breath, Emet-Selch thrust his hand forward.
When the portal opened above him, Hythlodaeus did not think. He simply shoved his chair away from his desk and held out his arms. Azem fell into his lap not a moment later, laughing as if he had just pulled off the greatest prank in the world.
Looking down at him, Hythlodaeus couldn’t help but smile indulgently. “All right. What did you do to Emet-Selch now?”
Azem tried to assume an expression of utmost innocence, though it was ruined by the mischief still bright in his grin. “Slander! I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong! Why would you ever assume—”
Then a hand plunged through the portal, seized Azem’s cowl, and yanked up. At the same time, a disembodied but very familiar voice growled, “Azem.”
Azem choked, swallowing the remainder of his words. As the newcomer tried to drag him back the way he had come, he wrapped his arms around Hythlodaeus and clung to the best of his ability.
This was an entirely new and unexpected experience. Hythlodaeus thought for only a split second before deciding that the most correct course of action was to grab hold of the arm himself.
When Hythlodaeus’s fingers wrapped around the familiar stranger’s wrist, the grip on Azem slackened in surprise. Azem took that moment to join in, reaching up and tugging forcefully on his would-be captor—and then, with a most undignified yelp, Emet-Selch tumbled through the portal in turn. He landed atop Azem, who fell onto Hythlodaeus, who overbalanced in his chair and sent all three of them sprawling across the ground.
Emet-Selch was first to recover. He sat up, grabbing at the front of Azem’s robes and hauling him aside. After confirming that Hythlodaeus was unhurt—that he’d only had the breath knocked from him—he resumed shaking Azem, who had started laughing the moment Emet-Selch had fallen into Hythlodaeus’s office and hadn’t yet stopped.
“You!” Emet-Selch snarled. “How dare you!”
“Help!” Azem managed. His hand fumbled across the floor, reaching and clawing until it found and grasped Hythlodaeus’s robes. “Hythlodaeus, help me! This is an unprovoked attack! I am innocent of whatever he claims!”
“You are innocent of nothing!”
Hythlodaeus shook his head and so shook off his disorientation. He placed one calming hand on Emet-Selch’s shoulder and another on Azem’s elbow, though he did not yet try to separate them. “Enough. What has Azem done now?”
“Nothing,” Azem insisted. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Cats,” Emet-Selch said, in a tone of deep disgust that one did not usually adopt when speaking of small, fluffy, adorable creatures.
Hythlodaeus blinked. He sat back, thinking that over, as Emet-Selch and Azem continued to glare at each other. “…Cats?”
“Flying cats recently released from Elpis,” Emet-Selch elaborated grudgingly. “They were brought to the Capitol for Fandaniel’s study but managed to get loose.”
“I had nothing to do with the cat infestation, as you well know, so I don’t know why you’re blaming this on me,” Azem spat. His cowl had been knocked askew in the scuffle; his messy brown hair stuck out in all directions, making him resemble a cat with fur standing on end himself.
“We spent bells chasing them through the building—”
“They proved surprisingly resistant to magick, Hythlodaeus, you might be able to make an interesting study of them—”
“—Until at last we found them in my office. All of them.” Emet-Selch swept his arm out, indicating the whole of Hythlodaeus’s office and inviting him to imagine it filled with airborne felines. “Two dozen flying cats. Knocking books off shelves, upturning inkwells across my documents, using my furniture as a scratching post—”
“It is exactly as impressive as it sounds, you know, having claws that can scratch through stone—”
“—And destroying the framework of the spell that Deudalaphon and I have spent the past fortnight developing. We’ll have to start over again.” Emet-Selch lifted his chin, folding his arms and glaring down his nose at Azem. “Well? What have you to say for yourself?”
Azem met his eyes fearlessly. “I am completely innocent of all charges laid at my feet.”
Hythlodaeus rested his chin on one hand and thought. Laughter was probably not the correct response, not unless he wanted to invite Emet-Selch’s ire onto himself. “And you say this is Azem’s fault?”
“This stinks of Azem’s handiwork,” Emet-Selch snapped.
“It is absolutely not my fault,” protested the Azem in question. “They’re cats! You know how cats are! Do you really believe I have the ability to control cats?”
The idea was so ludicrous as to give even Emet-Selch pause. Hythlodaeus snickered, though he also took it as opportunity to gently push Emet-Selch away from Azem at last.
Finally Emet-Selch said, in the grudging tone of one reluctant to admit he was in the wrong, “If you truly weren’t responsible, then why were you running from me?”
“Because you were chasing me,” Azem said, with the wretched mien of the wrongfully accused. “You would run too if a furious Emet-Selch was chasing after you.”
Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus took a moment to consider that. Emet-Selch’s frown deepened, and Hythlodaeus’s smile broadened, at the thought of Emet-Selch chasing himself through the halls.
“That makes no sense,” Emet-Selch said at last.
“Only because you’ve never chased yourself around,” said Azem, with unassailable logic.
At the very least, Emet-Selch’s temper seemed to have cooled. He was now staring at Azem with more perplexity than anger. Hythlodaeus coughed quietly, drawing both their attention. “Well. Having heard what has transpired, it does sound as if this is a situation Azem could not have purposefully orchestrated. What say you, Emet-Selch?”
“I find myself unconvinced,” Emet-Selch murmured. He kept his gaze firmly fixed on Azem, as if his soulsight had bestowed upon him the ability to detect past crimes.
Azem fidgeted guiltily under his scrutiny. Hythlodaeus spread his hands, indicating that he had done all he could. “True enough, Azem is probably guilty of something—”
“You too would turn your back on me, Hythlodaeus?!”
“—But in the absence of any conclusive evidence as to what that ‘something’ is, I see no reason to continue this interrogation.” He laid a placating hand on Azem’s back and smiled. “It sounds as if you have quite enough of a mess on your hands without concerning yourself with Azem’s antics.”
“True enough,” Emet-Selch muttered. Though he still looked unsatisfied, Hythlodaeus did have a point: there was little else to be done.
He turned his head, frowning at the growing darkness outside the window. The sun had long since set, leaving only shades of twilight chasing each other across the city sky. As if to himself, he said, “An utter waste of a day.”
“I don’t know. I must say I preferred catching cats to sitting in meetings all day,” Azem said.
Emet-Selch shook his head, though it was not clear whether or not he disagreed. He pushed himself to his feet, tugging at his robes until they were no longer in disarray. “The damage done today will be hard to repair. We’ll have to reevaluate tomorrow and determine our next course of action. For tonight…”
“You’ll spend time with the dearest friends you’ve been neglecting in favor of your office?” said Azem hopefully.
“For tonight, I am going home and getting some much-needed sleep,” Emet-Selch snapped. Still he watched Azem as if trying to recall just what he had done wrong. When he could think of nothing else, he said only, “Try not to wake me in the middle of the night with your shenanigans.”
With a roll of his eyes at Azem, and a curt nod to Hythlodaeus, Emet-Selch turned on his heel and stalked from the room.
The door clicked shut behind him. Azem and Hythlodaeus stared after him for a good several seconds. Finally, when it became clear that Emet-Selch had no intention of returning, Hythlodaeus said, “Destroyed his spell framework, hm?”
Azem ran a hand across his hair. It smoothed down at his touch, locks falling into place and fading to a pale gray color. “Yes, it would seem so.”
“The spell framework that he’s been complaining about every time I’ve seen him?”
“The very same. He kept repeating that the approach was doomed to fail and they would be better served starting over.”
“I see,” Hythlodaeus said. He shook his head, standing and righting his chair. Resting his hands on the chair back, he gazed down at Azem. “Did you really have nothing to do with this?”
“It’s as I said,” replied Azem in an injured tone. “Fandaniel was the one who brought the flying felines in for study. That they escaped captivity should only have been expected; they are cats, after all.”
There was more to the story that remained untold. Hythlodaeus’s eyes narrowed; it was his turn to try to stare through Azem. “And?”
“…And I might have had some hand in gathering them together,” Azem admitted. “Lured them in with treats. Left them a bit of catnip. That sort of thing.”
“In Emet-Selch’s office.”
“I successfully collected all the cats, didn’t I?”
“In Emet-Selch’s office.”
With a flippant wave of his hand, Azem indicated that such matters were not his concern. “He’s been so worked up lately, he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. First one in in the morning, last one to leave at night, you know. I simply thought he might… welcome the chance for some rest and relaxation. Whether that rest and relaxation came in the form of petting cats or leaving work early for once.”
Hythlodaeus covered his mouth with one hand, trying and failing to stifle his laugh. “Truly you are a most considerate friend. What would Emet-Selch do without you?”
“Become an infinitely boring man, that’s what. And now that he finds himself with more time, he might once again choose to spend it with the most important people in his life,” Azem said cheerfully. “So? Did I do well? Tell me I did well?”
There was no shame at all in Azem’s grin.
Hythlodaeus shook his head, though he was smiling in response.
“You are more trouble than an entire herd of cats.”