Garret gets up and stretches.  "Well, if we're going, we should 
be off.  If you don't need it, don't bring it, we may have to move 
quickly.  I myself travel very light." With that, he turns and walks back 
towards Gegi.  "Ready?  Splendid." He moves confidently towards the front 
door. looking cheerful.  "The
French Quarter, please."
	Gegi looks at the cane in her hand. "If we're walking in public, 
it's not legal for me to carry this." She leans it against the wall 
beside the jukebox, where Plots' cap waits. 
	He nods.  "Better safe than sorry." 
	The door swings noiselessly open, revealing the narrow, 
wrought-iron bedecked streets of the heart of New Orleans.  Garret steps 
through, calling back loudly, "Come on, you'll love it here, it's the 
city that never sleeps..."
	She follows after him. "New Orleans." (Her n'worlins 
pronunciation marks her as a Southern girl.) "I haven't been here since 
just after Becky died... they didn't want to cancel the trip and they 
thought  it was better to get me out of town, anyway. But I do have some 
good memories..."
	It's apparently early evening here, and there's a pleasant 
after-dusk glow that touches the narrow streets and gilds the jammed 
storefronts and clubs.  There are a fair number of people out on the 
street, walking in pairs or groups.  Jazz music thunders out of an open 
club just ahead, and it serves as a constant siren's call, no matter 
where they go.
	Garret falls into step just ahead of her.  "Becky?  I'm sorry.  I 
love it here, though.  I could never live anywhere else, although dinas 
Emrys was tempting." He smiles at a pleasant memory.  Just being here 
seems to put a spring in his step, and his eye is alight with excitement.
	"Now let me see...the chantry is this way," he says, turning down 
Orleans street.  In the distance, Gegi can make out the wrought-iron 
fence that encloses Jackson square.  Garret suddenly halts. "I'm sorry 
about this, but since you're not a tradition mage, I'm going to have to 
put you to sleep before we enter the Gate.  It's nothing personal, but 
security is very, very tight around here lately, due to the recent 
messes.  The place is actually crawling with technocrats."
	She nods carefully. "I trust you."
	As if this has reminded him of something, he looks around.  Gegi 
can feel the faint sweep of mind magick as he searches the street. "Safe 
so far.  I don't think they'll try for me in public like this, but
it's always a possibility."
	This does not seem to be a very reassuring thought.
	He smiles.  "I never promised you a bed of roses," he quotes.  "I 
think we're reasonably safe right now." With that, he reaches forward and 
passes his hands three times over her eyes.  "Sleep."
	A wave of sudden drowsiness washes over her, and she can feel 
herself start to sink to the pavement...and then she's falling into soft 
darkness.

	It feels like only a few moments later when a voice penetrates 
the blackness.
	"Gegi."
	"Gegi, wake up, we're here."
	She's dimly aware of someone shaking her by the shoulder. 
	When she opens her eyes, she sees that she's in a small room with 
a flagstone floor and stone walls.  A colorful rug depicting a dragon 
lies at her feet, and she's half reclined on a plush red velvet chair 
with mahogany armrests.  Across the room is a large rolltop desk with 
papers on it, and near that is a shelf with some photos of various sizes 
framed in brass.  A simple, narrow bed is pushed against the wall, neatly 
made. A large wooden door allows entry or exit, and a simple arched 
window is carved into the wall nearby.  The room has a cozy, lived in 
feeling to it.
	Garret squats on the rug in front of her, his hand still on her 
shoulder. "Feeling all right?"
	She blinks a few times. "Yeah." and looks around. "Nice room."
	He smiles.  "I think so.  It's mine.  Sort of.  I still haven't 
decided if I'm going to join the Chantry or not."
	He takes his hand off her shoulder and stands up.  "Welcome to 
the Chimera Chantry of New Orleans, Louisiana.  You are my guest here, 
which means I'm responsible for anything you do.  I decided to wake you 
here, the rest of the Chantry takes...some getting used to.  Do you get 
headaches from
looking at Escher prints?"
	"Prints, no. Twisted topology in reality, though... I get dizzy 
in IMAX's. My spatial perceptions are fairly distorted to begin with, 
messing with them makes me ill." She adjusts her glasses.
	"Ugh.  Then we definetely want to take it slow.  Are you afraid 
of heights, too?"
	"Not afraid of heights per se, no. The vertigo is about the same 
no matter how high I perceive myself to actually be. I did say I had a 
correspondence problem. If it gets bad, though, I can always close my 
eyes..."
	"Well, I'm warning you, normal laws of time, space, and 
proportion avoid this place like the plague.  I find it magnificent, but 
it can be very, very disconcerting.  That's why I woke you up here rather 
than in the Enclave."
	There's a knock at the door.  Garret gives Gegi a reassuring 
smile and goes to answer it.  He opens the door and looks out.
	"Ah, I thought you were going to come by later?"
	He stands aside, and a huge black man dressed like he's just 
stepped out of the pages of GQ walks in.  Garret is around six two, and 
this man towers over him, he's so huge that he has to duck under the 
doorway.  His suit is expensive, obviously designer and custom fitted for 
his bulk.  His bald head is polished to a mirror sheen, and his blue eyes 
looks atrangely vague.  A huge grin displays his dazzling white teeth.
	"I see you're up and about!" he says in a booming voice to Gegi.  
"I was going to come by later and say hello, but I have a meeting, so I 
should do it now.  The duties of an administrator never end." He gives 
Garret a meaningful look.  Garret looks away, refusing to meet it.
	The huge man sighs, and extends his hand to Gegi.  "Maxamillian 
Brandt, of the Cult of Ecstacy.  I'm one of the Deacons here." His manner 
is friendly, but Gegi gets the distinct impression that she's
being sized up.
	She meets his gaze and takes his hand in a firm grip. "And my 
name is Georgina, but I'm sure you already know that." She smiles.
	His smile broadens.  "Well, yes, but it's considered polite to 
pretend I don't."  His grip is gentle, but tokens enormous strength.
	She tilts her head, continuing to smile, and says jokingly,  
"Pretense and politeness aren't always my strong points." 
	He smiles in return, flashing enormous white teeth.  "Well, your 
honesty is refreshing.  Just watch yourself around some of the older 
mages.  They get their panties in a knot if they're not adressed with all 
their vanity titles."
	The huge man lets go of her hand and sits down at the desk. "Now 
then, young lady, I've only got a few minutes, but I thought I might chat 
with you for a moment, partly because you're Garret's friend, and I hope 
to pry some gossip out of you, and party because you're the first 
non-tradition mage we've had visit the chantry.  Sort of historic."
	She bows slightly. "I'm honored."
	Maxamillian leans backward.  "Well, if Garret is willing to vouch 
for you, that's good enough for me.  Perhaps you'll do me a favor and try 
to persuade him to pick up his responsibilities here.  We need another 
Deacon."
	"Garret tells me you've not yet decided wether you want to join a 
tradition or remain independent.  If it's not too personal to talk about, 
what sorts of magick are you interested in?" he asks. Garret smiles and 
shuts the door, crossing the room to sit down on the bed.
	She pauses, trying to find a place to begin. Then the memory of 
Ophelia returns to her. "There was a woman, a musician. She played a 
song. She put the place and the people that we were into music, so that 
with our eyes closed we could see and feel everything that was around us. 
Something I'd always wanted to do. Music that brings the listener in, 
lets them feel as the performers feel. Creates a world in the song. I've 
felt that sometimes, as a player, felt myself and my music falling in and 
-joining- with the group, becoming part of this greater whole, part of 
the music. I want to feel it again."
	Maxamillian leans forward, his face creased in concentration.  
Garret watches intently.
	"I want to dance on a hilltop in a thunderstorm with fire and 
water crashing around me, spinning and singing with others of my kind, 
feeling connected, to each other, to the earth, to all. I want to visit 
the fae."
	Maxamillian's grin gets even wider.
	"I want to be able to heal what is broken. To preserve and 
protect others like me. In terms of Spheres, I believe I already know a 
little Mind and Entropy. I'd like to learn more of Life and Forces. To 
-heal-, and to defend. This world needs healing."
	She takes a breath. "Did that answer the question?" she asks softly.
	Both mages are quiet.
	"Yes, it did, although it also opens more questions," says 
Maxamillian softly.  He looks quite impressed. "You express yourself 
quite well, young lady.  Tell me, how much do you know about the Cult of 
Extasy?  And how exactly do you wish to heal? There are many different 
ways of helping people, no two of them alike. Garret's and mine, for 
instance, differ quite a lot."
	"I don't know much, really. The people I was talking to back in 
the Pub gave me a quick rundown on the different Traditions and guessed 
that I was probably best suited for either the Cult or the Verbena. I 
would guess from the name that you do a lot with the channelling of 
emotion, which is how I work. Everyone also seems to associate the Cult 
with drugs and sex, neither of which I know much about..."
	"What you've been told is probably both true and false.  The Cult 
is full of Lotus-eaters, crazy wise folks, hippies, and visionaries.  
Passion is our calling card and our passkey to the Lakashim, the state of 
being whole with the universe.  Contrary to what other people believe, 
the cult is not just about drugs and sex, although we do make frequent 
use of those as foci for our passions, called Kamamarga.  The essence of 
my tradition is touching your passion, living it every day of your life.  
That may sound
attractive, but it has a down side.  Your joy is more intense, but so is 
your sorrow.  Our discipline has to be ironclad, or we flare and burn out 
like matches.  It's fun being one of us, but it's dangerous fun.  It's
taking your life in your own hands."
	"More intense?" she says with a slight twist to her smile. "I 
already run to extremes..."
	"Then you might fit right in." He shifts, the lamplight shining 
on his bald head.  "We don't have any Verbena here, and I really don't 
know much about them.  Garret would know more..."
	Garret nods his head and folds his legs.  "Yes, I know them 
fairly well. The Verbena draw their beliefs from the wreckage of 
pre-christain pagan religions, like druidism and wicca.  They contend to 
be the first tradition...but then, most traditions do...and that they're 
descended from the primal Wyck, the first magi, in the times before the 
tapestry cooled. They specialize in fertility magicks, healing, and 
shapechanging.  They see themselves as guardians of life and the natural 
order in all its forms, and they keep the old traditions, called mythic 
threads, alive. That includes things like tarot, ouija, superstitions, 
and such.  That's where all the misunderstanding about the verbena 
wanting to go back to the middle ages comes from.  Only one faction, the 
Gardeners of the tree, want that.  The rest, especially the Moon-Seekers, 
want to spawn new mythic threads and integrate them into the modern world."
	"Another verbena could probably explain it better.  Theirs, like 
mine, is a tradition that's hard to explain in words."
	Gegi nods. "As for healing - I used to think that one of the best 
solutions to the world's problems would be to give everyone empathy and 
see how quickly they would work to make the world a better place when 
they felt everyone else's pain as their own... but no solution is any 
good if it's forced. And making
everyone happy isn't an answer either. Darkness and pain has its place 
too. Without entropy and decay, there would be no -life-... it's hard, 
knowing how important a balance is and still seeing all of the 'bad' that 
seems to come from it. So I think right now I'll stick with wanting to 
learn better how to repair physical injury and disease."
	Maxamillian inclines his head.  "Either the Cult of the Verbena 
could teach you those things, but as Garret has already recommended, you 
should talk to the others first.  A tradition is a large thing, and there 
are all sorts of people in it, who believe all sorts of things.  There 
may well be a niche you wish to fill in the Dreamspeakers, who also 
pursue healing, or even the Euthanatos, in Garret's faction.  Or you may 
decide not to join the Council at all.  We would like to have you, but we 
will not force you if your path takes you away from us."
	He stands and stretches.  "I wish I could stay longer, but I'm 
late for my meeting, and jumping back in time is counted as cheating 
around here." He smiles. "Enjoy your tour of the Chantry.  A lot of blood 
was spilled to create it, not all of it human.  I hope to see you again."
	He stretches out his hand to her.  Garret uncrosses his legs and 
gets up.  Gegi shakes Max's hand and bows her head to him. He departs 
quickly, shutting the door behind him.
	"Well," says Garret, "there's something you should get used to.  
The sales pitch, I mean.  Young, newly-awakened magi are a valuable 
commodity."
	He stretches.  "All right, you met Max, now it's time to actually 
see the rest of the chantry.  I'll do what I can to help you with the 
vertigo, but you'll see what I mean about Escher pretty soon." He crosses 
the room and opens the door.  "And if we get separated, or anyone gives 
you any problems, mention me.  I'm pretty well-known around here."
	The hall outside is more plain stone, and runs in both 
directions.  There are doors at regular intervals, probably leading to 
more private rooms. After a minute or so, the hallway widens out...
	And then comes to an abrupt end.  A sharp ledge marks a drop-off 
point into utter chaos.  Or so it seems.  The main hall is roughly 
rectangular, and *huge*, the size of a grand cathedral.  People walk on 
the walls, the floors, the ceiling...there seems to be no actual center 
of gravity.  Even more confusing are the stairways, archways, doors, 
windows, stone benches, and suchlike mounted on any and every available 
surface, at any and every angle.  Stone bridges set at mad angles 
crisscross the enormous open space, allowing people to cross the room 
without walking down to the floor, walking across that, and then walking 
up the opposite wall. Elaborately colored glass windows let in bright 
light of all colors, and
gothic gargoyles leer from ubiquitous nitches here and there.  Even more 
insane are the beautiful glass chandeleirs, some of them sticking 
straight up from the "floor"!  As Gegi watches, she can see people 
approach the end of a stone walkway that ends in a drop-off, then 
suddenly swing *under* the edge, so that they're walking upright on the 
underside!
	"Are you all right?" asks Garret.
	"Standing here I'm fine... but I'm not sure I can cross that."
	"Are you sure?  We need to get across if you're going to see the 
main meeting chambers. This is the main Hall.  The Great Doors leading to 
the main antechamber are over there," he says, pointing to a huge set of 
metal doors mounted in the center of the opposite wall, without walkway, 
stairs, or other obvious method of getting to the floor several yards 
below.  "We're standing at the entryway to the Euthanatos residential 
quarters.  The Ecstatic quarters are that way, " he says, pointing to a 
hallway just under them.
	Somehow she doesn't seem terribly likely to lean over the edge 
and look for things. She just nods.
	"Don't worry about falling.  Gravity is more tractable here." 
	"Yeah, and what would happen if I just ran and jumped straight 
off the edge?"
	"You'd fall for a bit until you encountered another center of 
gravity, then you'd start falling in a different direction.  It's not 
helpful as far as keeping your lunch in, but it's rarely harmful." With 
that, he promptly steps off the edge...and suddenly swing forward so that 
he's standing upright with his feet on the "wall". He looks up at Gegi.  
"Come on, try.  It's really very simple.  Close your eyes if it scares you."
	"Even with my eyes closed I'm going to feel that shift... oh, 
<mumble>." She stands on the edge, closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, 
spreads her arms, and steps forward. With much flailing of arms, she  
lands on the wall, looking a bit pale. She opens her eyes again and 
winces, humming gently to herself.
	Garret grabs her and steadies her.  "See?" he says, in his most 
soothing tone of voice.  "I knew you could do it.  Magick is a lot like 
that, you have to trust to things you can't see or sense directly.  It 
helps if you look at me and not at the rest of the room."
	He waits a bit to let her collect herself.  "Okay, now we're 
going to walk around the opening  and down to the lip of stone that forms 
the floor, and then we'll be in the Cult's living quarters.  There's 
going to be another shift when we step up, so be ready.  It really does 
get easier the more you do it."
	With that, he leads her slowly around the hall opening. "Ready?  
Then just step up." 
	There's another sickening shift of gravity as they swing up and 
over the rim onto the floor.  This hall seems identical to the one above 
except that it's decorated with pretty carvings of Hindu gods and myths 
from all cultures.
	Gegi looks a bit dizzy, but she's managing. "What are the carvings?"
	"Well, this one is a depiction of the Goddess Shakti, divine 
energy.  I think this one is supposed to depict the legend of Beowulf.  
The Adept who decorated this hall has an interest in ancient myths and 
epics."
	As they move down the hall, they periodically pass other plain 
doors leading to other rooms.  The last few are very large, and carved 
with odd symbols, some of which Gegi recognizes from the runes Garret 
draws when working magick.
	"These are some of the classrooms.  The Ecstatics aren't as big 
on formal instruction as we are, so they require little teaching space, 
and most of that is for things like meditation."
	She looks at the carvings. "Warding symbols? Or containment?"
	"Very good guesses.  Containment.  The students in here are 
learning to open their minds to one another.  If we didn't shield them 
from the thoughts of people outside, they'd never be able to concentrate."
	He steps up to one of the doors and places his ear to it.  He 
then stands straight and turns the knob,  beckoning to Gegi. Inside are 
several people, mostly young adults, dressed in everything from
robes to street clothes, all of them totally still, seated in the lotus 
position.  Gegi can feel a wash of Mind magick, like vague, whispering 
voices, coming from inside.
	Garret shuts the door quietly.  "Telepathic communion.  It's one 
of the practices we have in common, although they use it for different 
purposes."
	She smiles. "Does paradox work the same here, or is it easier?"
	"Nonexistent.  Go ahead, try something."
	"Something 'vulgar'?" She pauses. "I've never done one, I can't 
even really think of something to try... I don't entirely know what I 
-can- do yet."
	He looks at her thoughtfully.  "You know, this is one of the few 
opportunities you'll ever have to really try your abilities out in a more 
or less 'safe' environment.  Why don't we put off the rest of the tour 
and see what you can do, hmmm?"
	She nods, and takes his hand, and together they leave to find a 
practice room.