Melody sits back for a moment, plays her Sight over their work. 

:- Well, it's behaving like we expected. How does it feel?: 

Vanyel frowns thoughtfully. Lets go of his elbow, pinches it again, repeats this. 

:It's - better? I think? When I'm pinching my elbow, otherwise it goes back to how it was before: 

:Good! That's what we wanted: Melody plays her Sight over their work one final time, making sure it's solid enough to stay put for a while without maintenance. :Sorry, that's all we've got time for - brace yourself -: 

She levers herself up from the stool, flings open the Work Room door, and bolts out, grabbing her travel-pack from just outside. 

Vanyel does brace himself, and expects it to hurt a lot. It...does hurt? But not nearly as much as he expected. It's like being a half-mile from a Gate, behind shields, and not right next to one. 

He still doesn't risk un-pinching his elbow until the Work Room door falls shut behind them. 

Thellim stride-runs after Melody.  She doesn't yell anything back at Vanyel about how much this is an utterly untested method that he should only try in major emergencies, especially if Thellimelody is not there; that predictably necessary conversation has been predicted and held earlier.

There's a Gate!

That is, the big doorway that used to be the main barn doors - before various side doors were added including for the Work Room separate entrance - is now limned by a glowing blue-white archway, which seems to give off, not just light, but also a sense of raw humming energy, mostly in a form that Thellim can't feel or detect in any way, but...there's a very slight sense of it, like a buzzing in her teeth but not quite that either... 

The other side of the doorway no longer shows the beaten-mud path outside; instead, there's a paved path, running through a (slightly) greener and less trampled field, half-brown with autumn frosts and soaked from the rain currently falling. 

And a silver-haired woman dressed in white, who might be a well-preserved sixty or sixty-five years old, standing in the rain with her arms crossed and glowering at the Gate. 

Thellim runs through and - she imagined sitting down and collapsing at this point.  It was very satisfying to imagine sitting down and collapsing at this point.

It's raining.  And the ground is wet.

She guesses she's remaining standing and getting rained on, then?  Thellim supposes she can work with that.

Savil glances between the two of them, eyes narrowed. "Took your time, didn't you," she says (incomprehensibly to Thellim), and then moves her hands in a complicated gesture. 

The glowing Gate starts unweaving itself, strands of energy peeling off and disappearing into...somewhere...and by the time it's done, the silver-haired woman is looking a little bit perkier. 

"Well, what are you standing around for? Follow me!" Fortunately, she accompanies this with a more-universally-understandable beckoning gesture. 

Melody glances back wearily to make sure Thellim understood the instruction, then swipes a lock of hair out of her eyes and strides after Savil. 

Walk walk walk, Thellim walks walkingly.

There are some long stone buildings! They look somewhat less dilapidated and low-tech than the houses in Horn! But not by all that much! 

There are also gardens, but it's headed into winter and the gardens are currently very sad. There's a stone bench by a fountain currently clogged with dead leaves from the oak tree nearby. The few people outside are hurrying around with the hoods of their cloaks up, and ignore Thellim and Melody aside from a few sideways glances. 

Not a lot of metal in sight.  Thellim hopes she can remember enough Tech Uplift stories to improve on that.  Anything she remembers from a story should work in real life; it has been agreed among the very smart and Very Serious people that if authors are going to be publishing Tech Uplift novels anyways, they might as well take that opportunity to render Civilization slightly more able to rebuild itself in the event of unforeseen total collapses.

Savil swings open a heavy wooden door, ushers them inside, shuts it behind them. The stone hallway is poorly lit, by small high windows and a few candles, which are clearly being used somewhat sparingly. 

Savil doesn't cast a mage-light. She does slump slightly against the wall, which has a rather old and faded tapestry hanging on it. 

"So. Vanyel?" 

Melody has a HEADACHE and is rubbing her forehead and wincing. 

:Thellim doesn't speak the language: she informs Savil. (Ouch. Mindspeech is ouchy.) :You'll have to Mindspeak her: 

Savil rolls her eyes slightly. 

:Well?: she sends at Thellim. :How's my nephew: 

:Somewhat more optimized?  Sorry, headache.  He's better.  Not totally healed.  Just improved.  Details later.  It was NOT EASY and Melody and I need to rest.  And not Mindspeak much.:

:...and we should eat too, shouldn't we.  Ugh.:  She hasn't even been doing mage-work, but she understands a little better how Vanyel feels.  Tired people with headaches should not be forced to eat too, it's unfair.

:- Then I suppose the full debrief can wait: Savil seems relieved about this too; going by her pinched expression, she may be suffering a post-Gate headache of her own. :I'll get you settled in some guest rooms and send food over, sound good?: 

Thellim attempts to smile, rather than remember Velgarth's equivalent of the affirmative gesture.  Hopefully that communicates the same idea without Mindspeech.

Savil smiles back in a very rote way. She seems content not to bother with any conversation as she leads them down the hall, calling out loud to grab the attention of a young woman wearing blue but clearly non-military servants' livery. 

Two available rooms are found down a side hall, and unlocked for them. Savil gestures Thellim toward hers rather than Mindspeak her. 

The room is narrow and not that warm inside, though there's an unlit-but-ready fireplace in the corner. Also a bed, small and narrow by dath ilan standards, and a writing desk with a few sheets of paper and an inkwell and pen on it, and a wardrobe in the corner, and some unlit candles in wall sconces and on a little side-table by the bed. There's a somewhat bigger window, offering dull grey light. 

Everything is clean and looks well-made - at least, within the reference class of clearly handmade furniture and other items - and also very old. 

Thellim is damp enough to care about the cold.  :Fireplace ignition methodology for amateurs?: she Mindspeaks, pointing at the fireplace.

(It's a shorter sentence in Baseline.)

:Er, flint-and-steel is...probably in the drawer, but it's fiddly to use - here, this is simpler:

Savil lifts her hand, concentrates, and the kindling - helpfully propped in a little triangular pile underneath the bigger logs, for better air access - bursts into flame. 

:Candles too?: 

Thellim is puzzled.  She would not have thought that required magic?  Still, she should maybe verify that the obvious procedure is safe and successful, while Savil is still here to stop her if she's about to make a mistake.

Thellim attempts to carry out the following operation: pick up one of the candles from a wall sconce, light the wick in the fireplace, blow out the wick, and replace the candle in the sconce.  Does this prove impossible, or does Savil stop her at any point?

Savil does not try to stop her! She looks a bit relieved, even pleased, though she does lean in a little bit to make sure Thellim doesn't burn herself when reaching close to the fire.