The term encampment might mistakenly give one the idea that the area around Teleost Lake is small and lacking in permanent structures, but that is only partially true. Long ago, it really was just a clear level place to pitch a tent and graze some horses, or so I’ve read, but the sheer quantity of visitors means that they eventually erected a few inns and other necessary infrastructure to keep the place clean and peaceful. However, it was nowhere near the towering buildings or winding sewers of Gold Port. The tallest permanent structure in Teleost stands only four stories high: the medical center. Everything else is built long and flat as the norm, except for the temporary living quarters of the nomads.

They mostly follow the traditional Arkosian style: four long halls connected around an open courtyard, with a large gate as the entrance. Since most of these places are inns, they have several doors lining the first and second floors facing the courtyard rather than just a handful for the main rooms. The windows that dot the exterior are grand, large enough for a person to climb through, with ornately carved wooden shudders and screens; in the winter they would be swapped for magic panels or double-pained glass, depending on the owner’s preferences.

Otherwise, one would find that most of Teleost is comprised of temporary or moveable living arrangements. The tents all around come in many shapes, sizes, and colors, the largest of which nearly challenged the hospital for its record. You could easily tell which tribe an occupant belonged to by the shape or by which sigils decorated the outer flaps. Then there are the exceptions: the Caravan Tribe, which lives and travels in moving homes pulled by berg-beasts; and the various branches of the Sky Tribe which live and travel by airships. Both the Caravan people and the Sky people tend to settle their portable homes towards the edges of the encampment for the sake of maneuverability, on those occasions when they visit the lake.

And flooding between all those tents, buildings, carts, and ships are throngs of people. The number of hooded individuals is much higher here, if only because it lacks the complementary identity obfuscation of Golden Port. However, it was arguably safer; crime may not be heavily persecuted here, but neither is it endorsed. If you keep the peace no one will make a fuss about you, but the subtly armed traders and the occasional patrol ensured that troublemakers would be swiftly handled.

There are more openly fae and fae descended people here too. The occasional man, woman, or child with naiad features, odd colored eyes, beak-ish noses, impossibly pale or iridescent skin, or a slight glow. As well as a respectable population of beast-kin and even a handful of hybrids. How rare, to see them out undisguised. It’s a testament to how safe Teleost is, that they risk revealing themselves.

Even so, I would be keeping my own hood up and face tucked into my raised collar. I may not be the most immediately recognizable person, but I’d rather not take the chance. However, I did let my partner sit freely on my shoulder again, as she was no more unusual than anyone or anything else. Afterall, among so many magically attuned folks, I couldn’t truly conceal my Magis status here anyway.

There is one more special feature of the encampment: the whole thing is cut into giant quadrants. If you stand in the center, you can see into the distance in each cardinal direction. As such, on the east-west road you can see the lake shining far beyond where any people camp, leaking into the horizon. On the north-south road you can watch the teleport gate on the hill or look towards the towering mountains to the north. The quadrants themselves don’t have any pre-designations, mixing together merchants, tourists, nomads, food stalls, markets, accommodations, and entertainment freely.

Alas, that can make it tricky to find what you’re looking for.

In my case, that’s a snitch. An informant that was willing to break the taboos of Teleost for money or favors and tell me about anyone notable who has been around lately. Granted, it’s a double-edged sword gambit, since they would almost definitely turn around and sell info about me to whomsoever can afford it. But it would save me several days of footwork if I don’t have to try and wheedle clues out of each and every person that could have seen something. I may not be poor, but I’m not made of gold; I can’t afford that many bribes.

I could try a fortuneteller, but the genuine article is so rare I’d be more likely to meet a scammer. Paying someone to be told that I’ll find the answer within isn’t on my to-do list, nor will it help, as the answer within is ‘go home and take a nap’. Then again, I might track down a real foreteller before I manage to find an info-broker.

Supposedly, you can find them simply by going to various shady places and spitting out the right combination of codewords. Hard to say, really, I’ve never needed to rely on illicit sources before. Magis privileges, and all that. Too bad I’d probably be forced to tutor the first-year specialists if I told Teacher Velden who I’m looking for… Not that he’s guaranteed to know either, since Teleost is far removed from the Magis academy. Regardless, I’ve been in and out of several establishments since I’ve arrived and none of them seemed to respond when I ordered weird drinks or things that weren’t on the menu.

I even tried saying the boss sent me a few times! Needless to say, I didn’t get any hits. I did get a lot of complaints and some drama about a cheating spouse or some such, but nothing relevant to my search.

Normally, a time like this is when the solution is supposed to just fall into my lap. I’d like to file a complaint with the entity responsible for my Chosen One status, as the perks seem to be faulty. I guess you only get them if you comply with fulfilling your destiny.

I stand from where I’d been sitting under an awning, eating a late lunch. The skewered meat and veggies were delicious, but a weird prickling sensation was killing my enjoyment. Perhaps it was the result of increasing restlessness and frustration from a lack of progress. Whatever. I tousled a hand through my hair, dragging my fingers across my scalp a few times to relax. I tossed the empty sticks into the public firepit and resolved to test my luck on a prophet instead. At least they advertise.

The old woman before me is wrapped in finery. Fabrics of such high quality that you can tell by sight, and embroidery so fine it became one with the material it was stitched on. Despite the obvious luxury of her clothes, she wore scarce accessories; only a gold cuff to adorn each wrist and ankle, embossed with figures that must belong to some story or legend. The belt around her waist is a neatly beaded sash, but it bares no trace of gemstone or metal.

Under the cover of a dark tent, the only light present comes from a pit of embers between us and the calming glow of wisp-fire.

Two assistants stand behind her, near the back wall, a younger man and a middle-aged woman. On closer inspection, they seem to share some of the fortuneteller’s features, like her pointed ears and upturned nose, but they are dressed more mundanely than she is.

I let my eyes become unfocused, staring into the warm orange of the embers. The incense she lit to “help her access the spirit realm” is a soothing woody scent.

To be clear, I asked her if she could tell me where the fairy-stone I’m looking for is. Since, you know, there’d be no point in tracking down the Hounds if they don’t actually have it.

Currently, I’m lending her my link to the fairy queen through a temporary magic bond. It feels a bit invasive, to let another manipulate my magic, even if it’s only the tiniest amount of it.

I can only assume that when she says ‘spirit realm’ she actually means that she’s interfacing with the leylines somehow, but then again, I don’t know anything about how prophetic gifts work. Maybe she really is getting up to some spirit shenanigans right now.

She huffs a short laugh, as if she could hear my thoughts.

Then she opens her deep blue eyes, as dark and clear as a cloudless night.

“What you seek is further north, in the hands of thy enemy.” Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyy???

I flopped backwards on the purple cushion they’d offered me, whining to myself quietly.

“Do I really have to go all the way to the Forsaken Lands?” I spoke more as a complaint to myself and the world, but the old woman answered me.

“Nay, they are north of here, but they are yet to cross the range. If you are quick, you may yet catch them. But, heed my warning child, you are not the only hunter that seeks your quarry.” She folded her hands on her lap and nodded to me. 

I cut off the connection between us, sighing. I wanted to whine a bit more; she gave off a strong maternal vibe, like she would listen to you but ultimately push you to resolve your own problems. Still, I resisted.

“Thank you for your time, madame.” I say as I move to pull the coins from my purse.

She holds up a hand to stop me and I catch her eyes again.

“Rather than money, there’s a different payment we’d like to ask of you, Magis.”

“Can’t I just pay with money?” I ask, knowing that whatever her request is will probably be a pain in the butt.

She just chuckles, as if I was telling a joke.