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Maelin shook her head and grinned. “Too late. I’ve staked my claim.”

Alla didn’t misunderstand. “Oh..my...” It was her turn to blink at her friend. “You little devil. Tell me everything. Leave nothing out. When? Where? And of course how? Be specific.”

“No.” Maelin chuckled. “No, no, and certainly not.” She stood. “Now if you want to walk with me to my Uncle’s club, that would be lovely. Otherwise go away, because I need to get a move on.”

With a big sigh Alla stood as well. “We will talk more about this, Mae. Seriously. I’m your best friend. I deserve to know these things. Because I love you and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“He won’t hurt me, Alla. Not on purpose, anyway. He’s not like that.”

“I’m glad to hear it. But don’t forget you owe me the full story,” she grinned. “And I think it should be over something stronger than Crownmist tea.”

“Agreed.”

The two women parted with a hug and a smile, leaving Maelin to continue her journey to the 422 Club, where she was greeted politely, and immediately ushered inside.

“Lord Phineas is slightly indisposed this morning, my Lady,” said the footman. “However he has made it known that his library is at your disposal.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” replied Maelin politely. “When he recovers, please tell him I sent my thanks and regards, and am disappointed not to see him at this time.”

“I will, my Lady. Here you go...” He opened the door to the library for Maelin, and she walked into the hushed and leathery quiet that always brought the magic of books into the air.

This time, though, she didn’t need to spend time browsing, since she knew exactly which area contained the volumes she needed.

Collecting three of them, she managed to haul them to a desk, where she plopped them down with a grunt. They were massive tomes, but they were the ones she knew had the most historical details, obscure references, and hopefully more information about the Hallion business.

Fortunately, each had an index of sorts, and she realised that two of the books covered a much later time period than she was interested in.

So she started with the only one that seemed to meet her requirements, only to find that the information there was very limited. There was, apparently, a family named Hallion, headed by Geoffrey, who had a great deal to do with the creation of Caelemar the city. Whoever had written this volume must have had some sort of link to the family, since the prose was very complimentary, gushing almost.

A brilliant and creative personage, it said. Beyond the abilities of mere mortals to understand, gifted with visions from the gods...

And so it went on, more and more plaudits and praises, but little of interest to Maelin.

She sighed. Clearly this wasn’t going to be of much help, so she closed the book and gathered her thoughts. Hallion had built Caelemar. That much was quite clear.

And he’d had a family, of course, although there was very little about them in this book. So, she wondered, could there be more about his offspring?

She reached for the second tome, which was dated many decades later than the first.

And here, she had better luck.

Here, at last, she found Sir Brighton Hallion. At a loss to work out how many generations later this was, she decided to simply read the information, and perhaps use it to deduce how long had passed since the original Hallion build Caelemar.

She began to skim the paragraphs, but soon slowed down and read, frowning now, surprised by what she was seeing. Sir Brighton Hallion was not, in any way, enthusiastic about what his ancestor had created. In fact, he made no doubt about his feelings, especially those concerning Gloamtide... a quote from one of the newspapers of the time said that he was “...appalled” by what his ancestor had accidentally created when it came to Caelemar. He was ashamed to be part of its legacy, and regarded it as something dangerous and shameful, not something to celebrate.

In fact, his feelings were so strong, he established a military-style patrol specifically to deal with the Gloamtide problem. His sentiments seemed to be genuine if these quotes were accurate. If there was any way possible, he wanted to control what his family had unleashed, and prevent further damage. Perhaps even eliminate the worst consequences of creating a world that basically existed in the darkness of a hole in the ground.

Initially successful, time passed and control of this system passed into other hands. Unfortunately, they became less worthy hands, and led to a consortium, respectable on the surface, but inevitably open to corruption. Various kinds of experimentation were encouraged, and one ugly offshoot was the establishment of blood banks. Donors were compensated, which of course generated revenue and more donors.

Maelin felt her skin chill as she realised the implications of all this.

Blood banks. Probably tissue donations. Abundant biological assets available to whoever might need them for experimentation. All done in the shadows of Gloamtide.

Could this have been the beginning of the Rhovan programme?

There would certainly have been time to initiate that idea, build on it, and introduce mechanical-human hybrids. Cross-checking the dates and the names, it would appear that yes, quite a few generations spanned the time between Sir Brighton Hallion’s actions and the Rhovan Wars.

Long enough for experiments to lead to more experiments, and finally to death and disaster.