From: hutch@hutch (Stephen Hutchison)
Subject: [KQ] 'Raelf [Mage's Guild] Paper Trail
Reply-To: hutch@ibeam.intel.com
Organization: Intel Corp., Hillsboro, Oregon
Date: Fri, 11 Sep 92 23:39:37 GMT

[ADMIN]  This is a side-trip for 'Raelf, who's got some personal errands to do
before getting back to Kron and his Kronies.

'Raelf strode up the Arcade of Fountains.  He'd stopped on the way at a street
vendor and purchased some outrageously spicy and rich barbequed concoction
that the vendor claimed was Tunnel Croc, but which 'Raelf suspected was just
peppers and garlic which had mugged an oversized chicken.  But there was lots
of it, along with the traditional white bread, tuber salad, and some barbequed
sausages, all of which he had devoured like a starving man, replenishing the 
immense energy outlay of the last few hours - he'd closed the holes that
Marcel had made in his accidental entry to Generica, fought off the clone
of Thk in the sewers, fought with the mind-flayer in the warehouse, made
considerable amounts of drug useless, and done a half-dozen healings.
So even that huge meal had only brought him up to less than half his normal
energy reserves...

After a few blocks he saw it.   Couldn't miss it, really.

The mage's guild was unmistakeable.  It was made of shaped stressed ferrocrete
marble, in the usual neo-gothic post-modernist seven-dimensional-deco style,
with a number of unrequited angles and quite a few dangling extrusions.  The
sheer wasteful expanse of the place was folded along some rude directions and
fit into the footprint of a single one-block edifice.  It had engravings,
the usual carved-gargoyle rainspouts in non-functional places, completely
non-functional windows, and pinstriping.

'Raelf smiled in recognition.  Standard public-edifice design, plans clearly
purchased off the shelf from the 'tevli family, or licensed through some other
architect.  The shape included a 'kani advertisment for a mild aphrodisiac
and appetite enhancer, if you knew where to look.

He walked ~around~ the front door, avoiding the standard suite of scanners
and recognizers - not that they would really tell anything, but they itch.
The inside was cool, spacious, and simply dripping with excess mana.  He
smiled, and triggered the recharge pump on his staff - a half hour in here
and he AND the staff would be back to full power.

An officious gentleman in dark blue robes looked up as he approached the
front desk.

"Yeeeees?  Can we ... help ... you?"  he asked, in rich, fruity tones.

"Way sure, garcon.  I need to talk to your membership department."

The blue-robed man shifted his pince-nez into position on his nose, attempting
to look down, over, and through them, all at the same time.

He saw a well-constructed young man wearing loose black pants and a travel
cloak of some kind, even-featured and dark skinned, with long blonde hair
pulled back into a short pony tail, except for a different-colored lock that
escaped to drift down over his face.  The lock was tinted to match the eyes
- a quaint conceit.  Otherwise the young man was without any obvious signs
of character - clearly wealthy, as he was absent any signs of hard labor in
his hands or ... wait, something wrong, there for a moment, the opticles
revealed a strong magical aura, elemental fire, and ... the man's eyes were
now a red color, and ... oh dear.  The pince-nez had gone opaque red.

"Wow, neet trick with the glasses, garcon, but I still need to see the
membership department."  'Raelf smiled to himself - the magical probe in
the pince-nez had snagged on his fascination-ward, and would take a week
or so to clear.  Until then, they showed a nice view of the plane of fire...

"I beg your pardon, young man, but could you repeat that?"  the functionary
was frantically polishing the glasses in a vain attempt to change their view.

"I need to talk to the membership department.  Transfer of courtesy working
papers from a very distant guild.  Could you direct me?"

The man pointed, distractedly, to a pinboard by the bank of elevators.

"Third transept fourth floor second level mezzanine, ask for Fauteuil."

'Raelf wandered over to the pinboard.  In common-rune, it listed the
offices of the Archmagi, and under Dimensional Contacts and Extraplanar
Liason, Fauteuil Archmagus.  "Wow, these guilds are crufty.  I wonder
what an archmagus can do in real-world terms."

He stepped on the elevator.  A marble statue of a beautiful girl with
dozens of arms, stood at one side.  "Floor, please" - the magic-mouth
effect looked artificial and disconcerting with the motionless jaw.

"Fourth floor."  The marble statue shifted a gate closed, with one pair
of arms, and the remaining arms began to crank on a rope, and the elevator
rose smoothly sidewards.

After a few moments, a bell sounded and the gate was opened.  'Raelf
stepped out into the hallway and looked around.  Colored, slightly
raised lines on the floor led off in all directions.  There was another
pinboard, indicating the directions to various departments, and oddly
enough, Extraplanar was in a direction that existed in the standard
threespace.  'Raelf followed the blue rubber line, eventually coming
to a mezzanine, with a half-dozen numbered archways leading off.

He took the one numbered Three, and found himself in a luxurious
waiting room with a platinum-blonde secretary.  "Whatcha want?"
she asked, bored, as she filed her nails while typing and reading a
sleazy lurid novel at the same time.

"Uh, transfer of working papers from S'Shc'ch'kan, Traveller's
Institute, Department of Artifice.  They'll cover the fees."

"Gotcha.  You'll hafta wait here until Mr F. is off his quaffee break."

"Coffee?  You have coffee here?"

"Natch.  The cafeteria's just down the hawall theya.  But ya lose yer
place in line if ya leave."

"Never mind, dudette, I can wait."

Time passed.  After a while, the secretary stood and said "Mistah F. can
see ya now.  Please woak this way."

He followed her into the office, trying hard not to duplicate the strange
wiggle she was getting from the extremely high heels she wore.

Fauteuil appeared to be an older man, in his sixties, in austere cream
colored robes designed after a monastic habit.  He looked up.
"What can I do for you, young... oh.  I see.  Out of towner, eh?"

"Way out, man.  I need to get some working papers.  There's some work
I have planned and I'm getting short of the ready funds; I'm a qualified
and certified artificer with specialties in power runes and planar work;
I intend to sell some standard exo-powered detect-and-purge items to the
Seaguard.  Nothing big."

The older man quirked an eyebrow.  "Your papers arrived this morning,
if you are indeed 'Raelf het ae 25.  I need your signature to release
the funds for them, please."

"Sure, dude, but first you have to send out the request.  Temporal
crossplane paradox and all that noise."

A nod to the secretary - "Miss Framitz, the paperwork, please?"
She bent over a file cabinet in order to reach the forms, and also
to show the black line of her silk stockings, then handed the
paperwork to Fauteuil.  He smiled unctiously.

"Now.  This is standard form 1066 with rider w-10 and clearance of
veracity voucher 23-a.  Please fill in the requisite four copies."

'Raelf sighed.  This should be automated.  He took the proferred quill
and filled in the indicated areas, then signed with his personal sigil.

"And now, sign here to release payment."

'Raelf signed the funds release, and a scroll was handed to him.

"So what operating rules do you dudes have here?"

Fauteuil glanced at his copy of the scroll, then raised an eyebrow.

"Your rating places you somewhere in the unrestricted journeyman class,
so you are free to create and market anything up to and including a
major focus, standard miscellaneous magic items, wands, amulets, and
unlimited personal constructs, but you may not make for sale any full
artifacts, and custom unique items have to be cleared past our review
board for side effects."

"Radical.  Takes forever to make artifacts anyway, so why would I sell
one.  Anyway, I want to make a custom set of really gnarly bezoars for
the Seaguard and Town Guards, tuned to spoil Joystix and related compounds.
Area effect, three uses per day or external charge.  What's the deal
with the review board for that kind of thing?"

"You would need to produce the articles in question and then submit them
to the review board, by applying at central services.  There is no fee
for application but there is a three week backlog, and we take a flat
ten percent for the first three sales.

"Oh.  Bummer.  Can't just provide the schematics, huh?"

The older man cleared his throat.  "My time is valuable; unless you wish
to pay for it, our interview is at an end."

'Raelf shrugged, and followed the secretary out to the hall.

He rode the elevator down to the street level, and walked through
the gate this time, confusing the accounting system.

"I wonder if the library is open," 'Raelf mused, and headed north.