text: > Go downwards
  Rotting beams spiral from the Shanty Quarter like a stairway grasping for the stars. At their head is a jutting structure like a watchtower, and it shadows all that is beneath it, shielding grimy brick and concrete from desolate sky.
  
  The Shanty Quarter yawns below. Above you is the public house called the Crow's Nest, watched by the bouncer Webster from his perch.
  
  It's getting dark out. You should return and tell Doctor Cavala what you've learned.
  
  (You can >go to a place you've visited before to quickly travel
  there. For instance, >go to clinic.)
  
  > go to the clinic
  (Doctor Cavala's clinic)
  You go down to the Shanty Quarter, north to the Via Mercurii, north again to the grand forum, north again to the Via Terminalis junction, northwest to the Via Terminalis bridge, northwest again to the West Street, west to the West End, and west again to Doctor Cavala's clinic.
  
  A row of chairs faces the prescription counter, where the medication and patient records are sorted in gridlike pigeonholes. Further on is the consulting study, home to a desk strewn with notes and diagrams.
  
  A calomel curtain leads north to the surgery room, stairs lead down to the mortuary, and the front door lies east.
  
  Doctor Cavala is curled up in her makeshift bed, staring at an intricately engraved pocketwatch. As you enter, she snaps the watch shut and gives you a nod.
  shut and gives you a nod."Marid," she says. "I was wondering when you'd be back."
  
  1) "How are you holding up, Doctor?"
  2) "Where's Horatio?"
  3) "That's a nice watch."
  4) "About the things you told me to investigate..."
  
  > 1
  "How are you holding up, Doctor?"
  
  "I'm fine," she says. "It's a bit dull here, especially since Horatio's refused to play any more crucible with me, but it's nothing I haven't endured before."
  
  1) "He's refusing to play crucible?"
  2) "Where's Horatio?"
  3) "That's a nice watch."
  4) "About the things you told me to investigate..."
  
  > 1
  "He's refusing to play crucible?"
  
  She smirks. "Something about running out of cash on hand."
  
  1) "Where's Horatio?"
  2) "That's a nice watch."
  3) "About the things you told me to investigate..."
  
  > 1
  "Where's Horatio?"
  
  "He's popped back home for a shower," she replies. "Don't worry -- I told him to go home and freshen up. He'll be back soon enough."
  
  1) "That's a nice watch."
  2) "About the things you told me to investigate..."
  
  > 1
  "That's a nice watch," you say.
  
  Doctor Cavala looks at the little brass case in her palm.
  
  "It is," she replies. "Someone gave it to me, long ago... I was just thinking about it. Had Horatio dig it up."
  
  1) "Thinking about someone, Doctor?"
  2) "About the things you told me to investigate..."
  
  > 1
  "Thinking about someone, Doctor?"
  
  After a pause, she puts the watch away.
  
  "It doesn't matter," she says. "It's all in the past now. You had something for me, Marid?"
  
  1) "About the things you told me to investigate..."
  
  > 1
  "About the things you told me to investigate..."
  
  Doctor Cavala's expression hardens. You settle down beside her, and she listens raptly to your account of the day's events.
  
  You tell her about your run-in with the Turris Infinita security. The chill of Doctor Arturus's clinic, the silent stare of the departed -- the macabre sights reflected in endoscopic lenses. You tell her of the doctor's correspondence; the web of intrigue and not-quite-coincidence that bound him; the lives that labored in the shadow of black wings. And through it all, like a pervasive pathogen, the darkness seeps and drips coppery from your words.
  
  drips coppery from your words.Doctor Cavala is silent as she takes in everything you've told her.
  
  everything you've told her."Marid."
  
  everything you've told her."Marid."She takes a deep breath.
  
  everything you've told her."Marid."She takes a deep breath."This is everything I'd asked for and more. You've taken great pains to acquire this information -- you've done the Channelworks District a great service. If I'd known the investigation would take you into the Shanty Quarter..."
  
  Quarter..."She trails off, shaking her head.
  
  Quarter..."She trails off, shaking her head."Regardless. You've uncovered a wealth of information pertaining to the affliction. We are now able to draw several conclusions. The transmission vector, for starters --"
  
  1) "It has to be airborne."
  2) "It's contracted internally, through ingestion."
  3) "It's spread through skin contact."
  4) "It's transmitted by both ingestion and skin contact."
  
  > 2
  "It's contracted internally, through ingestion."
  
  "A strong hypothesis," Doctor Cavala replies. "Your endoscopies certainly seem to corroborate it. But consider Doctor Arturus -- did he really ingest something that was contaminated? He was a magister of the ars vitalis, after all, and would have taken precautions
  to avoid such a careless mistake. From what you described, it sounds more like he was infected through his hands --"
  
  "He couldn't have been infected through his gloves," you say. "Otherwise both of us would be dead."
  
  She raises her eyebrows. "But he could have been infected through his hands."
  
  1) "It has to be airborne."
  2) "It's transmitted by both ingestion and skin contact."
  
  > 2
  "It's transmitted by both ingestion and skin contact."
  
  "Yes." She nods. "I believe that to be the only explanation for the evidence you've gathered. Nacarat and the thugs were killed by something they ingested -- and Doctor Arturus was almost certainly infected through his hands, though I can't fathom why he would have been handling a patient without his gloves. Perhaps if he was present at the outset of symptoms..."
  
  She glances at the curtain of the surgery room, and runs a gloved hand through her hair.
  through her hair."In any case," she continues, "the transmission vector seems to be clear. It requires proximity to an infected individual, and that implies close ties between the victims. From what you've learned --"
  
  1) "All of them were patients of Doctor Arturus."
  2) "All of them were linked to the Greater Corindia Trading
  Company."
  3) "All of them drank wine."
  4) "All of them had been to the Shanty Quarter."
  
  > 2
  "All of them were linked to the Greater Corindia Trading Company."
  
  Doctor Cavala grimaces. "That's not saying much in this district," she replies. "Even I've had to deal with them in the past. But you're right. The raven symbols you found on Doctor Arturus's patients all but confirm their connection to the Company... and if the message you found on Doctor Arturus's correspondence is genuine, he must have had dealings with the underworld as well."
  dealings with the underworld as well.""Even Reden frequented the Crow's Nest," you point out. "That's a front for the Trading Company, too."
  too."She rubs her chin thoughtfully. "It's possible," she says. "It's possible that the Company had something to do with the outbreak of the disease. But there are aspects of this theory that don't quite gel.
  disease. But there are aspects of this theory that don't quite gel."The Company is a business first and foremost -- so why would an affliction like this come into the picture? They deal in protection rackets, not plagues and poisons; even Nacarat and the thugs were among the victims. I can see how their ties might have caused the affliction to spread... but which one of them was patient
  zero?
  zero?"It's not the full picture, Marid. I have the feeling there was something else they had in common."
  
  1) "All of them were patients of Doctor Arturus."
  2) "All of them drank wine."
  3) "All of them had been to the Shanty Quarter."
  
  > 2
  "All of them drank wine," you say.
  
  Doctor Cavala opens her mouth -- then she pauses, closes it again.
  
  "Now that you mention it," she says. "That is odd. Reden was
  a heavy drinker. Doctor Arturus had been hosting Creditor Nacarat. And there was that bottle you found beneath the flophouse. The affliction can be transmitted through ingestion --"
  
  can be transmitted through ingestion --""Do you think it's the
  wine that's killing them?" you ask.
  
  wine that's killing them?" you ask.She furrows her brow.
  "It's certainly possible. A contaminant could be hidden in a dark wine and remain undetected, masked by the color and aroma. It would certainly explain why there have been so few victims. It wouldn't be an epidemic -- it would be a poisoning. If only certain
  bottles of wine were contaminated... Marid, did you notice anything in common about the bottles?"
  
  common about the bottles?"You shake your head. "They were all different labels. Different manufacturers. Reden didn't even drink red wine."
  
  wine.""That's deeply troubling." She looks at her injured leg. "If there doesn't appear to be any correlation between these poisonings, but the victims are all connected by the same symptoms..."
  
  but the victims are all connected by the same symptoms..."She falls silent, engrossed in thought.
  
  1) "You think the cause is undetectable?"
  2) "You think it could surface anywhere?"
  3) "You think foul play is involved?"
  
  > 3
  "You think foul play is involved?"
  
  Doctor Cavala crosses her arms. Her eyes trace the bandages around her destroyed tendon.
  
  "Suppose we assume that this is deliberate," she says. "That this is part of someone's larger agenda. Many things fall into place -- the attack on my clinic, the connection to the Trading Company, the fast-acting and improbably lethal affliction.
  
  "Until now, we've been operating under the assumption that this is a simple infection, one that obeys statistical models and adheres to the precepts of medicine... but what if that isn't the case? What if this is, in reality, a series of murders?"
  
  is, in reality, a series of murders?"You regard her with growing unease. "Then... then that would be beyond us. It would be a matter for the Vigiles."
  
  for the Vigiles."She nods grimly. "Correct. And if this is true, Marid... whoever is behind this has it out for me. The culprit might be looking to bury the evidence, silence the doctors in the district who have a chance of stopping them --"
  
  who have a chance of stopping them --""That means Doctor Justinian is in danger."
  
  in danger.""And you as well." Doctor Cavala shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Marid. If I had known earlier, I would never have sent you out on your own..."
  
  on your own..."She shifts in her makeshift bed, wincing as the dressing on her leg chafes. Her shoulders are tense as she checks items off her fingers.
  
  items off her fingers."If our conclusion is correct, time is of the essence. I will correspond with Doctor Justinian as soon as possible, and warn the Vigiles by way of Horatio. The quarantine will buy us some time to track down the culprit. As for you, Marid --"
  
  some time to track down the culprit. As for you, Marid --"She looks at you, and something causes her to falter. She closes her eyes. Her words catch in her throat.
  
  words catch in her throat."Go home and rest," she says. "You've done your part. I'll handle things from here on."
  
  1) "Yes, Doctor."
  2) "Can I still help somehow?"
  
  > 2
  "Can I still help somehow?"
  
  A long, tense silence -- and Doctor Cavala shakes her head.
  A long, tense silence -- and Doctor Cavala shakes her head."I appreciate all that you've done, Marid. But this is bigger than we'd imagined. It's bigger than any of us. Upon my conscience, I will not allow you to put yourself in danger.
  allow you to put yourself in danger."Get some sleep. Take a sabbatical. Let me and the Vigiles handle this."
  
  1) "Yes, Doctor."
  2) "Surely you can let me do something!"
  
  > 2
  "Surely you can let me do something --"
  
  "Marid."
  "Marid."You realize that in all the months you've worked
  here, you've never heard Doctor Cavala raise her voice.
  here, you've never heard Doctor Cavala raise her voice.She takes a deep breath.
  deep breath."Marid," she says. "This is not a friendly request. This is a command from Doctor to Servator. I will not allow you to
  wager your life on this. Do you understand me?"
  
  1) "Yes, Doctor."
  2) "No! I don't care what you think!"
  
  > 1
  You look at your feet.
  
  "Yes, Doctor," you say, softly, quietly.
  
  Her eyes linger on you -- on the tattoos that run like tears down your neck and fade into your pendant.
  
  neck and fade into your pendant.She exhales.
  
  neck and fade into your pendant.She exhales."Go," she says. "Go home, Marid. Take care of yourself."
  
  Marid. Take care of yourself."You rise from the waiting chairs. There is a dull ache in your shoulders. You give Doctor Cavala one last look as you prepare to depart for the night.
  
  as you prepare to depart for the night."Good night," you tell her.
  
  as you prepare to depart for the night."Good night," you tell her.You can't bring yourself to meet her gaze.
  
  can't bring yourself to meet her gaze.## Via Terminalis, West End
  You stand in the terminus of the Via Terminalis, a cul-de-sac of steel spires and buildings aspiring to the heavens. Night has fallen, broken only by the ghostly glow of bound animii in street-lamps and shop windows. Beyond, you see the great spine of the Channelworks District, receding from the lamplight into the beginnings of rain.
  
  The white cross of Doctor Cavala's clinic is to the west, and the dormitory block where you live lies to the north.
  
  > Go north
  Here is the faded arch, with its years of verdigris; here are the too-small atrium and the fountain at its center. All around above are the lights of innumerable domiciles, linked by crumbling stairs and divided by flimsy plaster walls.
  
  The public house is closed tonight. You can only go up to your dormitory room or exit the building to the south.
  
  > Go upwards
  (first opening the door to your dormitory room)
  (closing the door behind you)
  
  In one corner is a dressing table, piled with stationery and assorted toiletries, and in another is the kitchenette. The only door leads back downstairs to the atrium.
  
  Your bed is at the end of the room, beside the window.
  
  > enter bed
  You sit down on the edge of your bed. The sweat and stress of the day cling to you, pool in the shadows behind your eyes.
  
  cling to you, pool in the shadows behind your eyes.Doctor Cavala is right. This is no longer a medical investigation -- it's a murder investigation. You should take a break. Leave matters to those qualified to handle them.
  
  qualified to handle them.But you can't get the thoughts out of your head. The images. Everything that you've seen and done... it
  clings to you. Creeps within you.
  
  clings to you. Creeps within you.So do you drift
  down and down into darkness, thinking of corpses
  staring, pigeons twitching --
  
  staring, pigeons twitching ---- burnt-out lamps in broken
  housing --
  
  You open your eyes.
  
  You open your eyes.You're covered in sweat and your breathing is ragged. A nightmare?
  
  You'll have time to ponder that later. Someone is knocking on your door.
  
  1) <Ignore the knocking.>
  2) <Answer the door.>
  
  > 2
  You clamber out of bed, pull your jacket close, and shuffle up to the door.
  
  1) <Look through the peephole.>
  2) "Who's there?"
  3) "Horatio?"
  4) <Open the door.>
  
  > 1
  You look through the peephole.
  
  That's odd. You can't make out anything. All you can see is a misty gray.
  
  1) "Who's there?"
  2) "Horatio?"
  3) <Open the door.>
  
  > 1
  "Who's there?"
  
  There is no response.
  
  1) "Hello?"
  2) "Horatio?"
  3) <Open the door.>
  
  > 1
  "Hello?"
  
  wood out of its housing like
  
  wood out of its housing likesomanyteeth.
  
  wood out of its housing likesomanyteeth."Hello," the assassin whispers.
  
  whispers.She draws her sword and kicks in the remaining pieces of your door. Beneath her hood she's smiling, grinning a rictus grin. Or maybe her mouth is fixed that way.
  
  her mouth is fixed that way."You've been a lot of trouble, you know. Asking dangerous questions. Getting dangerous answers."
  
  Asking dangerous questions. Getting dangerous answers."You back away slowly.
  
  > talk to the assassin
  "W-What do you want?"
  
  The assassin walks towards you. Calmly. Unhurriedly.
  
  > go through the window
  You roll, twist, force yourself into a run. Your knees are aching. The air is freezing, stinging your cheeks. Your boots dislodge old and broken tiles, sending them hurtling off the roof into the mist below.
  
  A balcony lies to the east. Behind you is a clattering, a shrieking that is not human.
  
  > Go east
  and tumble panting across the rotting woodwork. The balustrade shudders with your footfalls, tears away as you frantically grasp for purchase. Behind you, a terrible bulk splinters the flooring and catches up to you with dreadful certainty.
  
  South you glimpse a doorway.
  
  > go south
  The hall is thick with ash. Moonlight lances through shattered walls. You run blindly through unlit passages, fumbling, your lungs burning as claws rip through the timber and plaster behind you.
  
  There is no escape except to the south.
  
  > Go south
  The hall is thick with smoke. Moonlight lances through
  scorched walls. You run blindly through burning
  passages, fumbling, your lungs melting as flames rip
  through the timber and plaster behind you.
  
  There is no escape except to the south.
  
  > Go south
  The hall is on fire and the beams are crashing down pinning you choking your lungs and you know it's not real but you're screaming and your jacket is burning
  
  south.
  
  > go south
  she writhes and claws and smashes through the fallen beams. You blink back tears -- you inhale ash -- and tumble through the only exit you see, tread empty air, fall screaming down a broken down chute into
  
  Everything hurts.
  
  Everything hurts.Sounds are echoing in the dark. The assassin's voice, calling out for you. Other things.
  
  calling out for you. Other things.Did you get away? Where... what is this place?
  
  this place?You grit your teeth and force yourself to get up.
  
  this place?You grit your teeth and force yourself to get up.You need help. You need to get out of here.
  
  > About yourself
  You hurt all over. At least nothing seems to be broken.
  
  You are wearing your natron jacket, your clothes, and an animus pendant (containing the spirit of your father). On your person are some drink coupons, a ticker-tape reel, an endoscope, Doctor Cavala's signum, today's copy of the Libri Liberi, a note with Zoiro's
  address, yesterday's copy of the Libri Liberi, your
  practitioner's badge, your scalpel, your purse, and an antiseptic cloth.
  
  > examine the shape
  A trick of the light?
  A trick of the light?You grope in the dark and your fingers close around cold iron. A handle -- a bulb -- a fuse?
  around cold iron. A handle -- a bulb -- a fuse?An animus lantern.
  around cold iron. A handle -- a bulb -- a fuse?An animus lantern.You pick it up and strike the fuse. The bound aurora flickers to attention, chilling the fingertips of your gloves, tracing the area in otherworldly dancing light.
  otherworldly dancing light.## Calefactory
  You've landed in some kind of underground heating room, long abandoned. The floor is seared with scorch marks. The corpses of pipes and machinery litter the area, claimed by rust and layers of fine black soot.
  
  Above dangles a destroyed chute. To the west there is a closed blast door, with a wheel-shaped handle fitted nearby.
  
  > examine the lantern
  A phylactery cathode in a glass-and-iron housing. It glitters with the cold light of the bound aurora within.
  
  > examine the pipes
  Gnarled, unrecognizable shapes.
  
  > look at the door
  A forbidding slab of metal. It looks like the wheel nearby will open it.
  
  > examine the wheel
  A rusted hydraulic wheel.
  
  > take the lantern
  You already have that.
  
  > examine the marks
  Darkness billows from the walls and scars the ground.
  
  > Turn wheel
  You grip the wheel and turn with all your might. There is a groaning, a painful screeching sound, as rust cracks and crumbles from the base of the handle.
  of the handle.The blast door grinds open.
  
  > go to the west
  Something is off about this creaking hall, this bending passage that seems to fold inward. The pipes pass in and out of shadow, traced by your lantern-light, writ large in the cold gray darkness.
  
  To the east is the blast door you emerged from. To the north, the hall widens and distends.
  widens and distends.And there is something -- something
  moving there --
  moving there --No. Gone. It's gone.
  
  > look at the pipes
  The pipes are parallel. The pipes intersect.
  
  > look at the hall
  You feel a little sick, as though whatever is affecting the hallway is also affecting you.
  
  > go north
  The floor falls away here. The path is shredded and broken. In another time this might have been the servants' quarters: the remains of furniture and domestic objects are strewn across this distorted space. But the seams of reality are showing, and an otherworldly pulsing darkness seeps forth that makes your eyes throb.
  darkness seeps forth that makes your eyes throb.You've seen places like this before. When the magical foundations of a building are damaged, it tears the fabric of the world, exposing the irrational dimensions that lie beyond. And things crawl through the
  cracks that are not quite alive.
  cracks that are not quite alive.You'd best not linger here.
  cracks that are not quite alive.You'd best not linger here.The service hallway lies south. East you see the door to a service lift, and beside it, a hydraulic wheel.
  
  > examine the furniture
  The laws of nature are tattered here. Abused.
  
  You hear things stirring in the darkness.
  
  > look at the lift
  The lights are still flickering. It might be your way out of here.
  
  The noises are growing louder. Claws and legs are creeping into the light.
  
  > enter it
  The door is closed. The nearby wheel seems to be the only way to open it.
  
  Limbs scratch at reality's seams. Eyes push through the stonework. Teeth float through the air, gnashing, approaching.
  
  > Turn wheel
  You grip the wheel, and with incredible effort, turn it a couple of degrees. But the door is barely budging -- you suspect you will have to give the wheel a few more good heaves.
  
  They're very near now. They're all around you. They're brushing your neck, raking your back, pulling your hair, closing in, closing and you need to run or you will die --
  
  > enter the lift
  -- and before you can do anything else, anything, there is a thrust and an impact and a sudden, sudden coldness.
  and an impact and a sudden, sudden coldness.Teeth are ripping into your skin.
  your skin.It hurts. It hurts so much. Your eyes are tearing up. You can't think. You feel sick. You need to throw up --
  
  > Turn wheel
  You grip the wheel, and with incredible effort, turn it a couple of degrees. But the door is barely budging -- you suspect you will have to give the wheel a few more good heaves.
  
  You hear things stirring in the darkness.
  
  > Turn wheel
  You grit your teeth and shift the wheel another couple of degrees...
  
  The noises are growing louder. Claws and legs are creeping into the light.
  
  > Turn wheel
  You squeeze your eyes shut and throw your weight into it. You can feel the wheel shifting, moving faster...
  
  Limbs scratch at reality's seams. Eyes push through the stonework. Teeth float through the air, gnashing, approaching.
  
  > Turn wheel
  Your muscles are aching. Your palms are sweating. The door is opening. Just... a bit more...
  
  They're very near now. They're all around you. They're brushing your neck, raking your back, pulling your hair, closing in, closing and you need to run or you will die --
  
  > go south
  You break and run for your life.
  
  Something is off about this creaking hall, this bending passage that seems to fold inward. The pipes pass in and out of shadow, traced by your lantern-light, writ large in the cold gray darkness.
  
  To the east is the blast door you emerged from. To the north, the hall widens and distends.
  
  You take a moment to catch your breath and collect your thoughts. It seems those creatures will attack if you stay in the next room for too long.
  
  > go north
  The floor falls away here. The path is shredded and broken. In another time this might have been the servants' quarters: the remains of furniture and domestic objects are strewn across this distorted space. But the seams of reality are showing, and an otherworldly pulsing darkness seeps forth that makes your eyes throb.
  
  The service hallway lies south. East you see the door to a service lift, and beside it, a hydraulic wheel.
  
  > Turn wheel
  You scream as the wheel shifts suddenly. The service lift door opens.
  
  You scream as the wheel shifts suddenly. The service lift door opens.You stumble into it, pushing past mandibles and slithering things, searching frantically for the control panel, hammering the rusted buttons as the aether-daemons close --
  
  rusted buttons as the aether-daemons close --The lift lurches. The door slams shut. There is a crack as a creature's limb is severed, and slides wetly to the floor.
  
  slides wetly to the floor.You take a deep breath.
  
  slides wetly to the floor.You take a deep breath.You stomp on the limb with your boot. You keep stomping until you can't distinguish the limb from the other smears on the metal.
  
  from the other smears on the metal.And at last you dare to rest.
  
  * * *
  
  * * *## Service Lift
  The lift has ground to a halt here, suspended between doorways. You are acutely aware of the creaking of the ancient mechanisms; the gentle cant of the platform within its cradle.
  
  To the west, the doorway opens up into a large kitchen, while to the east a cobwebbed scullery can be seen.
  
  > look at the lift
  Thank the Primes that this thing worked when it did.
  
  > Go outside
  Do you mean going west (to the kitchen) or going east (to the scullery)?
  
  > go to the east
  Your footsteps squelch in this stale, cramped space. The cobwebs here glitter with moisture and silk-wrapped things. Flies flit through your lamp-light, disturbed by your movements, gathering on moldy plates and slime-encrusted piping.
  
  A pitch-black shaft gapes above you. The lights of the service lift glow to the west.
  
  A rickety ladder leans against the wall, providing access to the pitch-black shaft.
  
  > look at the shaft
  It appears to be the maintenance access for the service lift.
  
  > Examine flies
  They nest here, feeding, multiplying.
  
  > examine the cobwebs
  Spiderwebs crisscross this place. They are caught in the light of your animus lantern; they insinuate themselves among your clothes and hair.
  
  > look at the ladder
  A long wooden ladder, worn from repeated use. Right now, it leans against the wall and provides access to the maintenance shaft.
  
  > look in the shaft
  That's too far away.
  
  > drop the ladder
  You prop the ladder up so that it leads to the pitch-black shaft.
  
  > Go upwards
  You squeeze into the shaft...
  
  It is cramped and dark and hard to move. You are prone on your elbows, wedged between unfeeling bricks, and your eyes hurt from the too-close lantern-light.
  
  The scullery is below.
  
  Engraved before you are the glyphs that conduct the galvanism of the service lift, and barely -- just barely -- keep it from plummeting away into the abyss.
  
  > examine the glyphs
  The glyphs are worn and decrepit. A few scratches from your scalpel, and the lift would become a deathtrap for the unwary.
  
  > Scratch glyphs
  That would untether the service lift and turn it into a deathtrap. You're not sure that's quite warranted at the moment.