They waited until nightfall to start planning. There was a gravity to the moonlight winter nights in Meyer, an atmosphere which was fit to plot and scheme. Because of this particular feeling they all shared, the student had gone their separate ways after reading the letter. When they finally spoke again they did so quietly, seated in one of the study alcoves in the physics wing: a long room with lamplight glinting off brass instruments and half-covered chalkboards. The university was closed, naturally, but that hadn't stopped them from entering unnoticed thanks to a particular skill in Adrian's small arcane repertoire.
The rain had not stopped. The wind hissed against the old windows, making the four students feel even smaller and powerless than they already did.
Adrian spoke first, as usual.
"He might be wounded," he established as his opening statement. "He made a joke of it, but if they cursed him using water as a catalyst—"
Erika interrupted. "We don't know if that's what happened. Irvin should have been more specific. How can we plan with so many unknown variables?"
Helge was leaning against the door, hand wrapped around a mug of half-cold tea that he had produced seemingly out of nowhere. "It was something. I didn't imagine it."
Rupert turned toward him. "The river?"
Helge gave a small, cautious, reluctant nod. "I saw it flow against itself. Only a few moments. And there was a—" He hesitated, brow furrowing. "An eye, I think."
The silence was so deep that a drop of water could be heard falling from the ceiling into the copper basin beneath the broken pipe near the door.
Rupert swallowed. "A what?"
"Listen, I don't know what it was, alright? But it wasn't meant to be there, this much I could tell."
Erika shook her head, very fast, multiple times. "We don't have time for speculations. We've got two days. If they're following him, assuming they are not complete idiots, they could already be in Weyer."
Adrian leaned forward, elbows on the table. That was an unpleasant thought. "We need a plan, I agree, the sooner the better." He saw Rupert hide an uncomfortable expression just as he turned to face him.
"Am I being too obvious? Maybe I need to look more apprehensive?" He had to remember to not lower his guard near Rupert. Lying to him was nearly impossible, omitting the truth was the best option.
They began to sketch the plan out — clumsily at first, with too many contingencies and too little foresight. But slowly, over the course of two hours or so, the details emerged.
Rupert offered to go down to the docks the next day and chart the precise layout. He already had a rough sense of it — he'd worked at a shipping office the previous year, mostly loading crates for a captain of a merchant vessel.
"There's three main berths," he explained. "North and south ends are for merchants. Middle one's for passengers. That's where the Vivid Dream should dock."
"We'll want a vantage point," Erika said. "Somewhere to spot him before anyone else does."
"There's a crane at the southern edge of the pier," Rupert replied. "I can climb it." Nobody opposed the idea. If anyone was to survey the area, it had to be him.
Adrian nodded. "Escape routes?"
"The fish market leads to the tannery alley," Helge finally offered his own contribution. Even though his father was an admiral for the commercial navy, he hadn't spent too much time at the docks in Meyer. "That connects to the apothecary's district. Tight paths, lots of turns, easy to get lost in for everyone involved, ourselves included. If we scatter, we meet again at the second footbridge over the main canal. There's an abandoned shed on the corner of King Friedrich's Street. I think it was used to stock tools for repairing ships, but by the look of it no one must have set foot in there for at least one or two years. Rupert, can you bring medical equipment?" The other nodded in response. "Very well," continued Helge. "We'll need you to patch us up if we end up fighting."
"We're not fighters," Erika said flatly. "We're barely even students. Gods almighty, I can't even pass the final modern literature exam and you expect me to grab a brick off the ground and cave someone's head in? Have you completely lost your wits?"
"We're the only ones he asked help to," Adrian shot back without hesitation. "If everything goes well nobody will get hurt, but we all need to be prepared to defend ourselves."
They looked at one another. Adrian realized that even if what he had just said had sounded good, none of them had ever seen real violence. Not even Helge, probably.
"Do we have weapons?" Rupert asked, hands trembling.
There was a pause. Then Helge, slowly, unbuckled a worn leather pouch from beneath his coat and placed it on the table. It made a dull clink as he opened it. A revolver. Simple, well-maintained blue-black metal, dull in the lamp-glow.
"My father gave it to me," he said, without looking up. "When we were sailing near Vasai Island. Pirates don't care if you're just delivering spices, he said."
"Can you shoot?" Erika asked.
He looked uncertain for a second, but then nodded. "Yes. I'm fairly sure I can hit a moving target if it isn't more than ten meters away from me," he then shook his head. "But I'd rather not resort to violence, if possible."
Adrian looked carefully at the gun. "I don't have enough money to get a firearm permit. I can find a knife," he said. "The kind port workers carry. Thick blade, probably a bit too heavy, but I'll have to make due I suppose."
"I'll see what I can get from the fencing club," Erika muttered. "They keep real rapiers locked up for dueling. Maybe I can steal one."
"Would that do you any good?"
Her expression became very serious. She seemed as lost in thought, trying to recall something. "I saw a fencing competition, once. I was six," she opened her eyes. "I can use a sword. Although, it was only a competition. I'm not sure how effective those skills would be in actual combat."
The others didn't question her seemingly odd behavior. They knew better.
Rupert just shook his head. "I wouldn't even know where to begin."
"You don't have to fight," Helge said.
Rupert's voice was quiet. "If they hurt him, I will."
Erika leaned back in her chair. Her fingers were tapping the table, a delicate rhythm she had heard once from a troubadour in a run-down tavern, during her first year at the university.
"Two days," she said again. "That's way too little time."
Helge exhaled. "I'll check the river again tomorrow. Let's just hope whatever I saw didn't notice my mana."
Erika looked to Adrian. "And you?"
"I'll try to find out what kind of grimoire he stole. The library might have some informations about Amlach. Helge, you seemed to know something about that place?"
"Nothing too specific, but I have good reason to believe a ley line is located somewhere in that area. There are signals: people disappearing a bit too frequently, occultists going to explore and never coming back, small portents being reported at the edge of the swamps, that kind of thing. For all that, I never bothered to look into it. I'm still trying to decipher my own grimoire, I really don't have the time to go look for another, you know how it is."
They all nodded, but none of them said aloud what they were all thinking — that this was no longer just a meeting. That the Irvin they would find at the docks might not be the Irvin they remembered. And that something terrible might already be following in his wake.