Facetkin
The small glass folk of the Facet, whose heads are hollow cut crystals with a light burning inside. The light shows every mood, so a Facetkin cannot lie without going green. They call their world the Gem, gather its light, split it into colors and keep each color in its own vessel, hoping to pour the white light back together one day. Humans, who have no facets and no light to show, they call the rough ones.
«Oh! A rough one, walking about by itself. Hold still — I want to see what color you are. ...None at all? Then you came through the Seam. I am …. Do not mind my head; it goes pink at new things.»
The settlement and its dwellers
Crafts
Looks
Where they live
Facetkin Cluster. A cluster of the Facetkin: houses cut like gems and held in settings of four prongs, crowned with stepped facets, their windows lit from inside like the eyes in a Facetkin's head. They grow around a light well, as crystals grow around a vein, and above the well hangs a great prism that sends a rainbow across the paving toward the east.
Tasks
Three Lights of the Rough World· Vein OpenerBring the vein opener twelve pinches of glowstone dust, four glow ink sacs and eight patches of glow lichen: the light of your own world.
«You came through the Seam with no light of your own, rough one — but your world has light, I know it: the tall ones used to carry its stones on their shoulders. Bring me three kinds. The yellow dust that burns in your stone, the ink of the beast that glows under water, and the lichen that lights your caves. I want to pour each through my prism and see what colors your world is made of.»
The Dais in the Surge· Vein OpenerFind the Prism Gate on the plain, and be in the Gem when its veins surge.
«Every surge somebody sweeps the dais of the Prism Gate, so that it is clean when the gate opens. This surge it is my turn — but whoever leaves an open vein in a surge comes back to a gray mountain. Sweep it for me, rough one. And when the light rises in every vein, look into the empty opening. If anything glints there, run and tell me.»
Grit for the Wheel· Prism Cutter· repeatableBring the prism cutter sixteen pieces of nether quartz: the cutting wheel eats grit.
«Every facet I cut costs the wheel a few of its teeth, and our dust is too round to bite: the light wore every grain smooth. The white stone of your burning world has an edge in every grain. Bring me a pouch of it now and then, rough one, and I pay as cutters pay: every time, and exactly.»
The Youngest Glass· Prism CutterWatch a crystal grow out of the Gem and bring the prism cutter eight blocks of prism glass.
«Old glass is wise and stubborn: it has its own idea of where its faces should be. Young glass, grown a breath ago, takes its first facet in one stroke and keeps it for ever. When the Gem starts to grow crystals, rough one, step back from the burning runes, wait until the crystal stands, and cut me eight pieces of its glass while it is still warm.»
Cut Glass for the Breathing Isles· Prism CutterCarry a lens cut from prism glass to a glassblower in the Breath.
«You have been behind the seam that breathes — your shell has a stung, misty look. The tall ones said the folk there make glass with their breath, round and whole, without a single edge. We make ours with nothing but edges. Take them this lens, rough one, the cleanest I have cut, and give it to whoever blows the glass. Let them see what an edge can do.»
Lost Reflections· Mirror Keeper· repeatableQuiet three refractors: reflections that fell out of broken mirrors and drink the light.
«A mirror that cracks lets its reflection fall out, and it has nowhere to go back to. So it drifts along the veins and drinks: moths, lamps, our heads, if we let it. I cannot fight a reflection — it would only show me myself. But you have no light for it to show, rough one. Quiet three of them. I pay each time you come back: mirrors keep cracking.»
Eyes for the Mirrors· Mirror KeeperFind the Mirror Hall and bring the mirror keeper two refractor lenses to set into its broken mirrors.
«Half the mirrors in the Mirror Hall are broken, and every broken one has lost its reflection. A refractor's eye is the last of what it was: the part that still remembers looking. Set it into a mirror, and the reflection has a door home. Go to the hall, rough one, see the empty frames, and bring me two eyes. And do not look into the great mirror for long.»
The World That Looks Back· Mirror KeeperShow the mirror keeper two lens crystals from the Eye: tears of the world that looks.
«The tall ones spoke of a world behind the last seam that looks — and said no more, though they had been everywhere. A mirror keeper must know: is it a mirror, or an eye? You have been there, rough one: it let you in, lid and all. If it weeps, bring me two tears. Not to keep: a keeper never takes another's tears. Only to hold up to my mirror.»
Stand in the Ringing· Resonance TunerLive through the ringing of the Gem and bring the resonance tuner four resonant shards knocked out by the loud rings.
«When the note of the mountains grows too strong, the Gem rings, and the ground around a rune is marked out in rings: lilac where it is loud, blue where it is quiet. The loud rings knock shards out of the stone, the purest note there is, and my fork is half a tone flat. Stand through a ringing, rough one — in the quiet rings, if you are wise — and bring me four shards.»
An Echo from the Rough World· Resonance TunerListen at the Resonance Ring and bring the resonance tuner two echo shards from the deep dark of your world.
«The Resonance Ring was tuned to the voices of the First Cut, and it has listened for them ever since without hearing them. I have a heretical thought, rough one: maybe it listens for an echo, not a voice. Your world has shards that keep an echo, I hear, in the deepest dark, where something blind listens. Bring me two — but stand at the ring first.»
The Heavy One in the Yard· EndersmithLook at the Endersmith Forge and the guard in its yard, and bring the endersmith eight blocks of obsidian for the hearth.
«The tall ones' forge still burns — light, not fire; it has not gone out since they left. I would learn there, but something heavy stands in the yard, and no Facetkin has dared to walk past it. Go and look at it for me, rough one — look, do not swing a pick near it. And bring me the black glass of your world, the kind they forged on: my hearth stone has cracked.»
An Edge for the Newborn· EndersmithCarry the edge the endersmith forged from a splinter of the Dark to the elder: it will cut the first facets of the newborn.
«With the black glass you brought, my hearth is whole again, and the first thing I forged on it is this: an edge from a splinter of the Dark, so sharp it cuts light. Three of us were born rough this surge, and the elder's old edge has gone dull. Take it to the elder by the light well, rough one. An edge should go from hand to hand, not lie in a pocket.»
Where the First Cut Lived· ElderGo down into the Prism Deeps, the old home of the First Cut, and come back up.
«Under the facets lies the home of our First Cut: cells and workshops at the top, chapels of light in the middle, the hall of mirrors at the bottom. No Facetkin goes down now: our heads are too bright for the archon's taste. Go down for us, rough one — you have no light it would want. Walk where they walked, come back up, and tell me whether the great prism over the door still catches the sky.»
Let the Archon Rest· ElderDefeat the Prism Archon in the hall of mirrors at the bottom of the sanctum.
«You have seen the halls; now you know who waits at the bottom. The First Cut built the archon to keep the light in order, and when they were gone it went on sorting: the light, the moths, the refractors, anyone who came down. It was ours, and it is terrible. Its altar asks for a golem's core — that is how they fed it. Wake it, and let it stop.»
The Ring of Frames· ElderWake the gate ring of the Facet: the door between the worlds on the plain.
«Now the ring on the plain. It sleeps, and it wants the archon's prism and the quiet of six refractors, so that no lost reflection slips through with you. And light for its frames, resonant shards and lumen, eight and eight, and splinters of the Dark for the road. Wake it, rough one. It is not our Prism Gate — but a door that opens is better than a gate that waits.»
Dark for the Setting· Seam WardenBring the seam warden six pieces of condensed void from the islands of the Interrift.
«You flew in on pearl-light, rough one. The Prism is a gem, and a gem wants a dark setting, or its fire spills everywhere. The islands out there squeeze the void into knots. Six knots — and the Prism burns in one line again.»
The Comb Next Door· Seam WardenFly to the Drifting Comb, the station of the Comb Keepers by the rift of the Hive, and come back.
«Past the pale disc there hangs a thing of six-sided cells. Its keepers trade wax for our light. We have never seen it: we do not leave the Seam. Go, look, and tell me whether their cells are cut true.»
A Truer Cut· Seam WardenRaise the class of your ship at a station dock, then return to the seam warden.
«Your ship is a rough stone. Our dock can cut it truer — for the price of the cutting. Do that, and I will know you care for a thing the way we do. Then the Lower Facet is open to you.»
Along the Thread· Seam WardenLet a flock of skein weavers lead your ship to a cache: stay slow near the skein islands of the Interrift.
«Rough one, do you see the bright lines between the skeins? They are not cracks — something spins them. Small spinners with mirror eyes. A slow ship they take for one of their own and lead it along the line to where the lines meet. A cut is true only if it follows the line. Follow one to its end — slowly, haste scatters them — and tell me where it ends.»
What to talk about
Tell me about this world.
You are inside the Gem, rough one. Everything you see is one stone: the mountains are its facets, the golden veins are its blood, the glass spires are its bones. There is no sun here and no night. The light comes from inside the stone, the way it comes from inside our heads.
What are the golden veins in the rock?
The blood of the Gem. Light runs in them the way water runs in your world — slowly, deep down, and only on the steep faces does it come out to breathe. We open them carefully, with a small cut, and close them after: a vein that bleeds too long goes dark, and the mountain around it goes gray.
Why do the veins sometimes flare?
That is the surge. Every so often the light rises in all the veins at once, the mountains shine, and the prism moths swarm along the veins to drink. We stop work and drink too. If you are here when it comes, stand by a vein and watch — and count it: we count our lives in surges.
And the blue glass spires?
The bones of the Gem: prism glass grown straight up from the deep. Light that passes through a spire comes out split, blue on one side and pink on the other — that is why we build with it. Take glass from a fallen spire, never from a standing one: the golems guard the living bones, and they do not ask why you came.
What are the stars in your sky?
Glints on the far facets. The Gem is hollow inside, like my head, and its walls are so far away that their faces look like sparks. Beyond the walls is the Dark you came from. ...You are giving me a strange look. Are they not glints?
Who else lives in the Gem?
The mountains, sometimes: a facet golem is a piece of mountain that stood up to guard the spires. Leave it be and it leaves you be; swing a pick near it and it answers with a fist. The prism moths drink from the veins. And the refractors... those are lost reflections. They drink light, and they are never full.
Where do refractors come from?
From broken mirrors. When a mirror cracks, its reflection falls out and has nowhere to go back to, so it wanders the spires and drinks light from anything that shines. Strike one and it steps into the nearest glass and comes out behind you — reflections know every way through glass. Quiet six of them, and the ring on the plain will listen to you.
What is worth seeing here?
Everything our First Cut left behind, and everything the Gem grew by itself. Ask about one, and I will tell you what my light remembers.
What is the gate that leads nowhere?
The Prism Gate. Our First Cut raised it and paved the road to it, and the road stops two paces past the opening. They said it would open when the light was whole again — and the light is still in pieces, in our vessels and in our heads. So the gate waits. We sweep its dais every surge, so that it is clean when it opens.
What was your First Cut waiting for?
For this. Go to the eldest for the long answer; the short one is that they left us a gate and a broom, and said that one day we would need only the gate.
Who dug the round shaft with the stair?
That is a light well. Your wells go down to water; ours go down to light. The deeper you go, the thicker the veins in the brick, and the bottom is brighter than the sky. Our old ones went down to drink when they were too tired to open a vein. You can drink with your eyes, rough one: sit on the bottom step a while.
What is the long hall full of mirrors?
The Mirror Hall, where the Gem came to look at itself. Half the mirrors are broken now, and the roof has fallen over one aisle. The mirror keepers still go there, but nobody looks into the great mirror at the end for long: it looks back, and something in it is thirsty.
What is the great ring that hums?
The Resonance Ring. It hums when anything warm comes near, and the hum climbs with every step. Our tuners say it was tuned to the voices of the First Cut, which is why it never finds what it is listening for. Walk up to it slowly and listen: you will hear your own heart in it.
Who planted the crystal trees?
Nobody: the grove is the Gem's own garden. Cut a trunk and there are rings inside, one for every surge the tree has stood through — that is how we learned to count our lives. We do not cut them any more. We sit under the crowns, where the light comes down in seven colors.
Names
Tinnel · Ilisk · Kirre · Zessi · Lirr · Tisk · Aliel · Zirre · Fenni · Ishel · Kliss · Rinne