The new language must be because of some thirteenth kind of magic. That makes this nowhere in the spatially contiguous universe Har is in.

The alley looks like it might be a public place, which would be better than accidentally trespassing, but it would be even better to find out where she can read the local laws before anyone decides to enslave her. She picks a random direction to walk in and hopes it'll lead her somewhere useful.

The random direction leads her to an inner courtyard of a bunch of apartments. A man wearing a mask looks at her and then abandons trying to pry open one of the doors to bolt down a stairwell in one corner.

Strange. Very strange. She examines the apartments for a while and goes down the stairs - slowly, not trying to catch up to the masked man.

The stairs lead to a dark hallway with a few pipes running along it. A sign says 'Exit to street - 300ft right'. The man is running in that direction. No doors or windows.

That might be private property. She goes back the way she came and looks for some other way to go.

A woman is peeking out of her door into the courtyard. She sees Lanisal. "Miss? Are you alright?"

"I didn't mean to be here. What would you like for telling me where I am and local laws I need to worry about following?"

"...Do you have any food?"

"Not on me right now."

"Look- It's not safe to stand around talking, okay? I'll tell you what's up if you can give me something useful right now."

"...I have my clothes?"

"Your- No, whatever, never mind." Her worried face softens into sympathy for a moment. "Good luck." Then she shuts the door and locks it with a clunk.

Not a good sign at all. Okay. Maybe she should follow that masked man after all. Back down the stairs.

Masked man is holding his hands up in front of three other men and a woman at one end of the hallway, a couple hundred feet off. They're arguing but she can't make out the words. They don't seem to see her - it's dark in here.

She watches but doesn't move and tries not to make any sound.

"---------- doing here --- kill someone ------------- bullshit ----------- for himself ------"

"----- my family. Please ------------ no no no ------------ little girl she's two ----"

"--------- Police?"

"Fuck ----------- here anymore ----------------"

"--------- off ----------- die."

The masked man takes a step back. One of his assailents shouts, "Take it off!"

He takes off the crude mask, hands shaking. The band of four talk quietly for a moment. Then the biggest one punches the unmasked guy in the gut, hard, before they all step aside. The unmasked guy leaves, looking up and down the street. The group of four head for her spot in the hallway.

She stays where she is for the moment. She looks at them long enough to tell if they seem to be looking at her.

They're not looking at her. They're talking quietly to each other. One of them is carrying a lumpy bag. One's limping. But they'll see her soon, coming down the narrow hallway towards her like that.

They're dangerous but she's not wearing a mask, which seems to be what made them angry with the man. She waits where she is but doesn't look directly at them.

They seem wary of her, when they finally notice. They're paying particular attention to her ears.

"...Oi, who are you? You going to be trouble?"

"I have no intention of being trouble. I'm a bit lost, is there anything I have that you'd like to trade for some information about where I am and the local laws?"

"Lost? Lost? Ha! You've got terrible luck if you got lost here of all places! Also, it doesn't look like you have anything except that dress."

"Gene, ears."

"And whatever's the reason you've got pointy ears I guess."

"Gene."

"I have many skills. At home I produce shows with audiences in the tens of thousands, for instance."

"Nobody cares about theater right now."

"Gene let's just get out of here."

"Right. Lady, the place is called Remington. You're welcome to go find the law up at the top of this screwed up city but I don't recommend it. We're gonna go past you now, don't try anything, you hear?"

"I hear you and I won't try anything while you pass me."

They go past her and continue down the hallway, ignoring that one stairwell. The glance backwards warily after they've passed.

Top of the city, they said. She'll just go looking for stairs leading up.

Besides the one leading up to that apartment courtyard, no other stairs are immediately visible. Out on the street (where that little gang came from), there aren't that many people. Everyone seems tense and most are in groups. One maybe ten-year-old kid is digging through a trash bin alone. All humans.

...This city is tall. A chaotic mess of buildings and bridges soars above. There's a big stairway a ways down the street that goes up for a while.

She heads for the big stairway. They don't have any caralendri here, might not have any non-humans at all. Everything is strange. Everything is dangerous.

A lot of the buildings have people guarding the doors, holding big sticks or knives. Lots of windows are boarded up. One of the groups, two men and two women carrying big rounded sticks and wearing some kind of leather clothes and helmets, start walking along the opposite side of the street, following her. The other groups avoid them after they brandish the bats, chuckling.

She stops to greet them. "Are you the local police?"

"Nope. Police can't handle the lower city anymore, babe. You've got to look out for yourself and your buds. And, y'know, you look like you've got something special going on. Nice ears and all." The speaker tosses her bat into the air and casually catches it. "Could be useful, thing like that. Could be mutually beneficial."

"What exactly do you want from me and my pointy ears?"

"I don't know if you can do anything more than have pointy ears, but folk'll think you can. Even if you don't have anything up your sleeve, with someone who knows the local landscape helping, you could get a ride off this hell-hole."

"Hm." She thinks for a moment about the implications of the local language. Their language doesn't have a word for caralendri, it doesn't have a word for agerah or thwilit or essi, it doesn't have a word for any kind of magic she's familiar with including the one that taught her to speak it. "...I do have something up my sleeve but generally in civilized places it's appropriate to find out what the applicable laws are before you do any magic."

"I don't think breaking the law is a meaningful constraint at this point. What with the slave revolt, clean water shortage, and the fire that's still burning in the garden quarter, the police are pretty distracted."

"With the - I see. In that case I have useful and destructive magic and I like your plan to go somewhere else if there is anywhere better to go."

"Magic. Sure. I'll appreciate a bit of a demo somewhere not in the middle of the street. Most other places are, at least, not actively on fire and thus probably an improvement. We could do a lot of posturing and can-we-trust-her-can-you-trust-me shit but let's skip that and acknowledge mutual benefit. I'm Rachel, that's Tim, John, and Cleo. My brother, cousin, and niece respectively, sticking together for now."

"I'm Lanisal Vesairel, but that name probably doesn't mean anything to you, does it?"

"Nope. Cooper's our family name, except Cleo's Cleo Gardener instead. We're interested in getting all of us through this safe. Some'd be trying to loot and pillage and rape but we just want out. Simple."

Tim asks, "You were from a noble house where you're from or something?"

"Yes, I am, not that it does me any good if I can't get back. So how would we get out of here? Just walk?"

"We need to find an airship that hasn't buggered off yet and get them to take us. We've got some food and jewelry to pay someone. Some of them are still here, hoping to make a profit while things fall apart. Worst case, threats and theft."

"I see. Might as well do that, I don't have a better plan."

"Great. There's a dock I know about two levels up from here, and one three above that a ways around, but first we ought to stop at our place - get you a bit of armor to wear, hear what your 'magic' is, maybe coach you how to act."

Cleo says, "I still don't think the Drucker docks are a good idea. Rumors say the police tried to fight off pirates there and couldn't."

"It's better than waiting around here to get clubbed by a prole or catch cholera or starve to death," argues John.

"It's possible I could fight off pirates. But yes, let's go back to your place and plan this."

"It's five minutes that-a-way." She points the opposite way down the street. "The swagger and confidence is mostly to make people decide not to even try us. We'll be on the lookout for anyone who might attack us anyway."

"That would be easier than killing them, yes."

She'll follow them that-a-way.

They go to an alley and open a hidden door and go into a semi-dark room. Looks like some kind of abandoned, destroyed store. "So, our stash is in here. I'll get it when we're ready to go. What is it that you can do exactly, Lanisal Vesairel?"

"I make things empty. I can make the space where someone's heart is empty if I want someone to die. I can make a hole in the ground to drop someone down. I don't know of any nondestructive uses for it. How about all of you? What do you do?"

"We don't have any really crazy tech or magic like that on us, unfortunately. Just local knowledge and skills. Tim used to be a cop but quit years ago and knows how to do non-lethal takedowns. I was a mechanic, I know enough about ships to tell if one's crew is bullshitting us. John and Cleo are pretty much muscle, as far as escaping the city goes. Rope-making and running a bakery respectively."

"I see. What kinds of magic can we expect other people we meet on our way out to have?"

"Nobody has magic. Some people might have Lost Technology, which can do stuff like let you see in the dark, make sugar from thin air, or shoot lightning and stuff, but it's rare. Is magic a thing where you're from?"

"It is and I've met people who could do most of those things."

"Well. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"What's a horse?" asks Tim.

"Earth thing, just an idiom, don't worry about it. Most people can't do those things. People who can do something like that are using a tool and the tools are quite rare. Hence why you're terrifying."

...So if she finds a full set of all the kinds of magic tools she can be every kind of mage?

These people probably wouldn't have a useful answer to that.

"Do I need to follow any plan more complicated than 'look imposing, kill anyone who attacks, follow you out'?"

"Don't think so. Your idea of 'imposing' might be different from ours but it shouldn't be a problem."

"I suppose if I get it wrong enough to have to kill someone then that will be imposing enough."

"True enough. Alright. Let's all eat something, go over the route, and then we'll head out."

She passes out food from the sack - stale bread, mostly, though there's also some dried fruit and a few sad-looking vegetables.

Hard to guess which food is safe for her, but if any of the dried fruit looks familiar she could try a piece. Otherwise she might as well try the bread, since they have more of that.

Some of the dried fruit is familiar enough.

They take what sounds like a bag full of jewelry from the top of a cabinet and make to head back outside.

She follows. She keeps an eye out for anyone getting too close.

Nobody gets too close to them for the first half hour. They go up and up and up to nicer but still mostly abandoned parts of the city - it looks like the whole place is floating in the air somehow. A big group of ragged-looking people confronts them a bit but they tell blatant lies about Lanisal's magic and the slave rebels let them pass. The air starts smelling faintly like ash. "That'll be the fires..."

Charming. None of that shocks her after everything else, though.

"Do we need to stay away from the fires?"

"Yes, unless you can delete fire."

"I can delete things that are on fire, but if it's bad enough that might not leave a path through."

"Avoid them if we can, still. I think the fires are still contained in the garden quarter. They were going to just contain it and let them burn through all their fuel... If the fires are spreading this place is even more doomed."

"...Ah. Yes, I can see why that would be."

She'll follow them whichever way they think the fires aren't.

That's this way. They peek around a corner and see open sky. Beyond it, a few floating buildings float in an area clearly designed for much more than that. Her companions cheer - those are ships! There's a big barricade across the road, though.

As they approach the barricade a scarred man pops up from behind it. "Go the fuck away!"

"We're just looking for a way off this rock, same as you."

"Fuck that. We're full. Last warning - turn around."

"Surely you can find a little extra room for someone who can do this-"

She gestures at Lanisal where the man behind the barricade can't see.

And a structurally less important but very visible chunk of the barricade isn't.

The guy behind the barricade looks at the missing bit. He looks back at Rachel. He reaches for something behind the barricade and raises it-

-Rachel swears and everyone else starts to react-

-There's an ear-shattering BANG and Rachel is falling over backward, blood spraying everywhere, and barricade guy is pointing the weapon at John now-

The weapon disappears. Then for good measure a chunk of the man that she hopes is his heart disappears.

The gunman falls over.

Rachel's three friends have picked up Rachel's body - maybe she's still alive - and are running away down the street behind her with their bag of food and jewelry.

She follows them.

"Fuck, Rach, this was a shitty idea - god dammit - and now you're fucking dying - ah fuck she's following us-"

"Should I not be?"

"I don't know! This was Rachel's idea and now she's been shot!"

"Stop, Cleo! Stop! We gotta see how bad it is."

They set Rachel down. The prognosis is: "Fuck. She's dying. The shot cut her jugular."

That makes this alliance awfully precarious. Lanisal waits.

"Is there anything we can do to save her?"

Tim shakes his head. "Maybe, maybe if we stuck her into some lost tech doctor thing she could survive... But we don't have that. All we can do is say goodbye. Maybe... Make it faster. Painless."

"Fuck... Fuck. She'd want a mercy kill, wouldn't she... Goodbye, Rachel." Rachel tries to say something, fails, shakes her head weakly instead and looks at Lanisal. Cleo says, "Lanisal, can you...?"

"Make it faster? Yes."

She hesitates but not long.

Rachel's three family members are going to mourn her for a while now. Nobody seems to be chasing or bothering them, at least.

She looks around, in case someone takes this moment to jump out at them, but stays there and stays quiet.

Nothing jumps out at them or attacks them.

"We should cremate her."

"...Well, the fires are still burning in the Garden District."

"We should focus on ourselves," the mostly-silent John says. "She'd want us to be safe, right?"

The others don't respond.

"Who were the people blocking our way?"

"Probably pirates."

"Why were they doing that?"

"Hell should I know? I guess everything's gone to hell enough that you shoot anyone who seems like they could disappear you in an instant! You're damn lucky Rachel was a prideful bitch, you know, or you'd be dead."

"I am. Well, we can't make it to a ship without a fight we might lose. I might be more of a liability than an asset for you if people are going to be that afraid. I don't know what to do now."

"...I'm not sure if we've got better odds of getting on a ship alive or riding this whole mess out alive now to be honest."

"I want to try the second."

"Well, good for you. I want to go back to our shop and mourn."

"Is that an invitation or do we part ways here?"

"I don't fucking care."

"Jeff. Don't provoke her."

"...I don't- Look, we'll give you a little advice. You're not - no bad faith here. But then we part ways."

"Of course. I understand."

"So. What do you want to know about this place?"

"What are the major political factions?"

"The Bonnies are the previous ruling class, rich salveowners. The revolting slaves are a faction, the loads of pirates wanting to loot the place probably fucking count, police and the militia and other rough types might be considered a faction and probably aligned with the Bonnies, then you've got the free but middle class or poor who probably mostly just want food and safety, uh... I think there was something about the Bonnies splitting into 'go easy on the slaves' and 'we can't afford that' groups..."

"Thank you."

"Yeah, well. Goodbye. Let's go find somewhere to burn Rachel, guys."

She goes wandering and looks around.

She's in a slightly nicer but still mostly abandoned part of the city. One of the shops is even still open, some kind of general store. There's a big sign that says 'STILL OPEN - SURRENDER WEAPONS AT DOOR'.

She goes in to look around.

There's a bunch of food inside, mostly unprocessed, mostly grains. Also, weapons, sets of clothes, and a bunch of strange, random objects.

More signs: 'ACCEPTING HARD METAL OR BARTER ONLY.' 'THIEVES WILL BE SHOT.' 'THERE IS MORE SECURITY THAN YOU THINK THERE IS. DON'T TRY ANYTHING STUPID.' 'LOOKING FOR SOMETHING SPECIFIC? INQUIRE WITH THE GUY WEARING RED HAT'

Two security guys look her over suspiciously as she enters but don't try to touch her or anything.

She'll try asking the person in charge what sorts of barter they accept.

A bulky and serious woman in a gaudy red hat replies. "Things for things. Things for services rendered if you've got anything useful at the moment like doctorin', sewin', carpentry, fixin' guns."

"I... have sewn a few things."

An eyebrow is raised. "That tone of voice does not sound promising. Unless you made that dress yourself?"

"I didn't. What sewing do you need done?"

"We're putting ceramic and metal plates into heavy jackets. Stops bullets, sometimes. I don't think I wanna hire you. But that's a nice dress. If you're willing to trade it out for a simpler one you could get a couple of other things too. Otherwise, you might have better luck finding work on your back, somewhere else."

"What sort of other things could I trade it for?"

"Loaf of bread and a full canteen, a nice pocket knife, box of matches, bottle of booze, tea kettle. Half a dozen bars of soap. A chair or something. Miscellaneous other things. What do you want?"

"...A knife might be helpful but so would a full canteen. Full of water, I take it?"

"Yes. Hopefully it rains in the next day or two, for everyone's sake. That dress can't really get you a knife worth the name and a canteen."

"A canteen and a loaf of bread, you said. Could it be a canteen and something other than bread?"

"...What are you expecting, prime rib? Grains are nice and dense and keep well, most everything else has already been eaten. Oh, we have some dry beans. And a few onions."

"If it has to be food I suppose grains are fine."

"Ah, I misunderstood. Full canteen, name your price for what else. You're sure you don't have anything else? Old wedding ring? Sentiment doesn't do any good if you starve. News from other parts of the city might be worth a little bit."

"...I saw the docks recently."

"Hmm. Got a headcount, or any names? Count of ships still there?"

Explaining what information she has without revealing it might be impossible. Probably not worth trying.

"...The way was blocked and they weren't allowing anyone past, as far as I know. And the people manning the barricade I saw were armed."

"Hokay. So you didn't actually get into the docks. That's still worth a little. I'll give ya three canteen refills here, all clean water, or something on that scale if you answer two more questions. Did they shoot first or ask questions first? And did you see or hear any ongoing fighting in the area?"

"They warned us away first. I didn't see or hear any fighting."

"Okay... God, what a mess this place's turned into." She sighs. "So, whaddaya want?"

She almost asks for water.

She doesn't.

"Tell me what I can expect. Tell me how long this is going to take, who the people are who are most likely to win it..."

"I've never been in a falling city before. I think something like half the city is gonna die over a couple of weeks. We don't produce enough food, we manufacture stuff and trade finished goods for food, but nobody will come here to trade while there's pirates and fire. The pirates have the docks right now, they're looting and taking slaves. The competent ones'll leave after a while once the easy pickings are gone, some idiots will stay and keep making trouble until something kills them. The former ruling class is holed up in the very top of the city - not sure if the pirates or the helots will get them or if they'll stay safe. The helots are really fucking angry and want blood, freedom, and safety in that order. Everyone else is starting to realize it's every man for himself and making strongholds, gathering weapons... Like us. Who even wins in something like this?"

"...Could someone get out of here as a slave?"

"I've seen some folk try that. Go to the pirates willingly, at least you won't starve. You're pretty - might work if you charm someone important enough in their crew to keep you out of the worst work and everyone in the crew deciding to have their way with you. Might not be very fun. They might kill you anyway. No way to tell for sure. But it's an option."

She thinks about it for a moment.

But there are her ears and the fact that someone might recognize her, and getting away at the next place wouldn't be easy...

"Is there any... reasonably small set of people, such that if all of them dropped dead the fighting would stop?"

"...You thinking of trying something like that? ...No bullshit, could you do it?"

"Yes."

She grimaces. 

"Now, you have to understand, it's really not how things are supposed to go, killing folk until things settle down again. If the city weren't on fire right now I wouldn't be encouraging this by answering. And I might be wrong. And... God help my soul if I tell you a name and you kill someone because I said it might help I'd consider myself a murderer all the same."

She pinches the bridge of her nose with two fingers.

That's a lot of confusing concepts.

"Sorry, should I know who God is and why you need him to help your soul? I'm not from here."

"It's an old religion. There's not much to be said about a lot of it, but believers who follow God's commandments make good neighbors. It's wrong to help cause the deaths of others. Especially if you do it without any remorse. Folk these days just don't have the same morals as back in the day."

"I'm not going to require you to help me do that."

"Not the point. If you go kill someone even partially because I said it might sew this whole mess up, that death is at least a little bit on me. It's not something to take lightly. They're never coming back. Does it not make you feel sick and hollow, thinking about it?"

"...I just feel afraid I won't live another week."

"Well. There's lots of that going around too, isn't there just."

Pause.

"A man named Callahan, also goes by Redbeard, is the most bloodthirsty pirate in the area. If you get him and make it clear every pirate that doesn't behave will get the same, the pirates will clear out. Cama Lucille is the bitch who pushed lots of the worst treatment of slaves and the helots want her head. If they get it, they might calm down enough to try and hold some kind of fucked up election. But the nobs will panic if you go for her and they're still in their little fort. Leader of the helots, if anyone is, is Jack Morris. I don't know if he'll be a problem or not. If the slaves get assurance of their freedom, I think they'll settle."

She describes all these people's appearances.

"Thank you. I won't forget that. How would I make my terms clear to the pirates? What would need to happen to let everyone know that these people were dead?"

The proprietor gives a dramatic shrug. "Honey, I'm just a savvy shopkeeping wench. Though, if you want to be gruesome about it, very little beats a severed head for sending a clear message."

"I see. Thank you."

She considers asking about people who might be able to help her, but decides against it. Better to change her clothes and drink some water and then get on with it.

The shop's guards eye her warily. The city awaits. The street is still fairly abandoned, though there's the faint sound of a crowd ninety degrees from the path towards the docks. The faint smell of smoke might be a bit stronger now.

All very concerning. She'd prefer to deal with the pirates first. She starts by looking for a good hidden vantage point from which to watch them for a while.

The place is a maze, but a place with a clearer view of the docks is easy enough if she's willing to vanish a lock or two and bluff or demonstrate her power to a band of aggressive trash-scrounging ten year olds who call her 'Babs' for some reason.

There are eleven ships still there, all of them at least the size of an apartment building. All the easy entrances (on multiple levels, connected by stairs, ramps and catwalks) are guarded by pairs or trios of bored-looking pirates. When a group is relieved there seems to be some arguing. There are also watchtowers of sorts where more people with telescopes watch over everything.

There are lots and lots of people who look morose, downtrodden, meek and dressed in rags - slaves, almost certainly. They are made to carry things here and there. At one point a male slave reaches his breaking point and tries to sieze a pirate's gun - they beat him bloody until a man with an impractically large tricorn hat shouts them down and put him back in the line of slaves.

Pirates all wear bandannas, scarves, hats, or some other head adornment plus various jewelry - though there seem to be particular emblems for particular crews. None of the slaves have any head coverings or earrings or other jewelry. Eventually, the sentries with guns notice her lurking on the overlooking roofs and fire off a pot-shot in her general direction.

This isn't going to work. She needs an illusion mage and ideally a knowledge mage and a force mage...

She doesn't have any of those things.

She's going to die here if she doesn't back off. And if she does, then she'll die of being alone in an unfamiliar city in the middle of a war with no useful magic.

She vanishes the hat that the sentry who shot her is wearing, then looks for something she can put between her and the armed sentries.

(The shot misses, she hears it whiz by somewhere nearby.)

There are bundles of pipes sticking out of the roof and chimneys, plus a few planters. The shape of the building and being higher than the pirates means running back a bit would hide her alright too. Though, they're already scrambling around and shouting and pointing at the building.

She goes for the back of the roof, then, and waits for the pirates to come looking.

There's the sound of pirates arguing. A minute later there's a lull, then a single gunshot, then some kind of victory chant.

Leadership dispute settled, then they start cautiously combing the area for the pointy-eared Lost Tech wielding stranger.

Just ahead of the pirates approaching her, "STOP" is carved into the ground. There's a sound, but it doesn't sound like carving stone generally sounds.

...That implies power much scarier than the boss had said she had. They glance at each other and take cover behind whatever is available and start arguing in heated whispers.

"STOP" is joined, also audibly, by "would you like me to let you live?"

They can't see the message, being behind various bits of cover. They don't try to peek to look at it, either.

Then going and talking to them is probably her best bet. She tries that.

This is crazy risky - there's someone with incomprehensible weapon of some kind and they're supposed to take her prisoner? Promises of better loot were all well and good, the self image of a badass pirate who takes what they want makes it easy to swagger and inflict violence, but facing down a mysterious death makes anyone rethink that...

"What do you want?!" One of them shouts at her.

"Safe passage to a town that isn't in chaos, but if you can't give me that I'll settle for help conquering this one."

"...We're grunts. Frontline muscle. Can't make any promises like that."

"Going back on Cap would be a violation of our fleet code!"

"What, the fuckin' code that sent us out here to get vanished by some lost superweapon? Fuck that."

"The code is vital for honor among thieves and-"

"Better dishonored than dead."

"Guys, shut the hell up and let me think! God! -And don't get too close or we'll shoot, missy!" This last bit is addressed at Lanisal, though they're still all behind cover.

She stands still.

"Who would be qualified to come to an agreement with me?"

"Captain Maybach speaks for our crew. Three wheels forever. But we're all kind of too damn tense and fired up to present you to her for negotiations without somebody dying."

The other crews might have instructions to shoot on sight, not try and capture or make a deal with her, but if she dies he no longer has a 'probable imminent demise' problem so he neglects to mention that.

"I was watching for a while, how would I know if I saw Captain Maybach?"

"Big hat with three wheels emblem!"

One of the pirate emblems was three white circles on blue and these guys have it on their hats.

("Why are you talking to her, Gibs?"

"If she's talking she's not killing us...")