[Tarot]

Ibizia seemed pleased with Ythri's answer, or as pleased as the woman could ever be. The slight curl of her lips was all the indication of her satisfaction. "Excellent," she said, "the Docks and surrounding areas should be fully evacuated within a few minutes by our fencers. What we cannot fully cover ourselves is the Plata, however. The residential district, that way." The Councilwoman pointed a long, slender arm towards one of the streets winding off Piazza del Mare. "Good luck," she said briefly, before stepping away to give similar instructions to a few more volunteers that had finally started to congregate for the same reason.

In the meantime, the assembled townsfolk began descending into the depths of the stairway, assisted by the fencing militia. Master Montago played a soft tune on his violin to calm them down and ease the evacuation.

If Ythri followed Ibizia's instructions, she would soon discover a new Chelseanna - deserted, virtually abandoned. Only the wind hissed on the street, mounting more and more as the storm neared. Lightning bolts cracked the sky, followed by roaring thunder, the gap between the two shortening every time. After the first minute or two, there was literally no-one in sight, and the girl was alone with the baroque limestone buildings of the town, with their strange quirks, the faux doors and windows, the optical illusions, the secret gardens. Ythri's only companion was a rather ugly stray cat that had clearly seen better brightenings. It meowed at her ungracefully, though with a strange stubbornness to its voice, as if wishing to attract her attention. And in doing so, the cat seemed to be pointing at one of several houses in the residential district. A two-story building just like most of the others, nothing really stood out about it - save that the door was slightly ajar.

Meanwhile, Erenthril had different business on his hands. The man with the lantern looked at him as if he were from a different Plane of Existence. Looking at him, it was apparent that he did not hail from Chelseanna. No, he was too pale and his body structure reminded of Medonians, and Southerners at that. Still, he motioned for Erenthril to follow him. " I have no idea what you're talking about, but come with me!" he barked, clinging to his chain as he approached the door and opened it, taking the first few steps down the corkscrew stairs. Only then did he release the chain, as he did not enjoy the kind of protection that the Elf did.

The stairs were dimly lit, and after a few turns they ended with a trapdoor. The Kalendryan opened the hatch and climbed down the following ladder, his feet now firmly planted on the floor of a circular room filled with half a dozen scholars dressed in similar robes. One of them was jotting down calculation at a table, a map of Eunesia open in front of him. Two more were discussing astrological matters. 'So, what can you tell from this chart?' one asked. 'Ah, well,' the other said, 'you may very well be dying today, but if you don't, you will meet a beautiful stranger next cycle.'

"Boss, this man came flying and said they are evacuating the Port, that Vidocai's broken some sort of seals," the first Kalendryan said, approaching what seemed to be the leader. He was a man in his fourties, with little remaining hair that he tried to enhance with a poor combover. "Seals?" He repeated, his bespectacled grey gaze falling on the Elf. Erenthril would notice that these were all mainlanders.

Another Kalendryan came running to him, almost trampling the one who had escorted Erenthril. "Stellar Zakarov, this man speaks the truth! The people gathered in Piazza del Mare are going down a staircase that just wasn't there before! What are your orders?"

Zakarov pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. A pin, shaped like a small coin, decorated his robes. His nose was angular and spoke of great determination. Here was a man who talked little and thought much. "Now, now, isn't this interesting news? The things Vidocai wouldn't tell us. But where did I put my manners? Welcome to our Observatory, sir. My name is Nikita Zakarov. Is there anything we can do for you?"