He had finished taking notes of the knowledge Safrin had shared with Amalia and him at last, and as he went through them one thing had stood out: though Safrin had mentioned Rae and Vi and Mort, though she had explained her own origins and those of Frey, one name had been conspicuously absent.
Ludo.
The guider and keeper of souls until the day the barrier came down and the dead could be handed to Mort. The first of the gods to speak to him... but also the one who had tormented and punished Remi. The dreameater was a mystery, and Jigano glanced up from his desk to the shelf of books half-filled on the far wall. Knickknacks were placed carefully upon its shelves: an elaborate dagger, a mechanical eye with its parts fused together, a dried stick of wood, an oddly organic chunk of crystal, and a metal amulet on what might almost have been a stylized keyboard.
Memories... shadows from another world, holding the ghosts of those who had been lost, in one way or another.
And in the corner of the room, tucked behind the book shelf, a little table sat. Three noseless masks hung on the walls above it - a smiling face in gold, a mournful face in silver, and a neutral face in platinum. A candle sat unlit on a little plate upon the table, held in place by dribbled wax. A private shrine, though one the loreseeker had been hesitant to use until the night of the new moon arrived and he fulfilled his bargain with the death god's emissary.
Isuma had rolled into her side in her basket, sleeping peacefully as Jigano frowned and opened the book of the divine with a touch somewhere between reverent and hesitant. Curiosity had killed the cat, they said, but still it seemed so strange for Safrin to leave out mentioning her counterpart, and the lorekeeper had a bad habit of tugging at threads left unraveled.
The words were still incomprehensible to him, but the spectacles in his pocket could supposedly sometimes read unusual texts. This would certainly qualify, but he tried not to get his hopes up too high. If he tried and failed he lost nothing, but if he tried and succeeded... well. He wouldn't know until he tried, would he? First he closed and locked the door to his office, though the Hall was empty of his guildmates at this time of night. Slipping the glasses from their protective case he hooked their stems over his ears and looked down at the book, hoping to swiftly find the pages on Ludo's origins and relationships with Mort and Safrin.
Ludo.
The guider and keeper of souls until the day the barrier came down and the dead could be handed to Mort. The first of the gods to speak to him... but also the one who had tormented and punished Remi. The dreameater was a mystery, and Jigano glanced up from his desk to the shelf of books half-filled on the far wall. Knickknacks were placed carefully upon its shelves: an elaborate dagger, a mechanical eye with its parts fused together, a dried stick of wood, an oddly organic chunk of crystal, and a metal amulet on what might almost have been a stylized keyboard.
Memories... shadows from another world, holding the ghosts of those who had been lost, in one way or another.
And in the corner of the room, tucked behind the book shelf, a little table sat. Three noseless masks hung on the walls above it - a smiling face in gold, a mournful face in silver, and a neutral face in platinum. A candle sat unlit on a little plate upon the table, held in place by dribbled wax. A private shrine, though one the loreseeker had been hesitant to use until the night of the new moon arrived and he fulfilled his bargain with the death god's emissary.
Isuma had rolled into her side in her basket, sleeping peacefully as Jigano frowned and opened the book of the divine with a touch somewhere between reverent and hesitant. Curiosity had killed the cat, they said, but still it seemed so strange for Safrin to leave out mentioning her counterpart, and the lorekeeper had a bad habit of tugging at threads left unraveled.
The words were still incomprehensible to him, but the spectacles in his pocket could supposedly sometimes read unusual texts. This would certainly qualify, but he tried not to get his hopes up too high. If he tried and failed he lost nothing, but if he tried and succeeded... well. He wouldn't know until he tried, would he? First he closed and locked the door to his office, though the Hall was empty of his guildmates at this time of night. Slipping the glasses from their protective case he hooked their stems over his ears and looked down at the book, hoping to swiftly find the pages on Ludo's origins and relationships with Mort and Safrin.
