The current began to swell, bearing them higher into the air.  “Now, the tensile force technology unclasps from its connected water layers.”  Instead of a barely perceptible yawing, the building moved in a steady direction: down.  It accelerated smoothly in the current’s tow.  Claymore guessed that they were moving faster than it felt inside the room.

“Are you normally in charge of this descent?” the General asked the engineer.

“My brother and I transfer the duty between ourselves.”  Just before the surface disappeared, it shifted towards the corner of the room.  “The structure changes shape in response to the first diagonal shear current.  We are now in this conformation.” He placed the heels of his flat hands together in a consummate V.

Woollibee dimmed the lights so they could see something of the ocean through which they were passing.  He pointed out a mesopelagic vegetative raft, with signs of cavorting from its resident life forms.  “Without shining any lights it’s mostly a series of shadows, but we don’t do that without a reason.”  Councillor Arkuda sat erself down on the ground.

“If you appreciate blackness, we can watch the last light disappear.”  Draig and Arkuda both nodded.  Arjun extinguished the light in their chamber, with the timing of a sliver of moonset.  Their eyes sought it, and barely caught the remaining trace as it left like an imagined shimmer.

Arjun Woollibee gently revived the room light.  He continued to narrate, doing a sort of interpretive dance while describing the progressive shapes of the structure, as he liked to call it.  “We move through the water as the leading edge of an object that becomes denser and more massive.  The invisible object has a shape that can withstand the pressures through which we descend.

“After the V, the linear form bows out into the shape of a lucky bowl: smooth, open, drifting down through a full sink.  Farther down, the shape becomes flatter, and weighted – like a bag with objects placed inside, or a tea mug.  The flatten widens, bulging: a market basket or longboat’s bottom.  Then the curve really stretches out, really really big – this is the meteor.”  He called each stage through the climes of darkness, keeping time and mental track.  They took his word for it that the subtle motions they felt meant what he indicated.

“Inverting.  Are you ready?  We’re going to see light again.  But this time, it comes from below.”  Woollibee turned out the room light in time for them to catch another breath of darkness.  Glimmer appeared again like a distant moon rising from the edge of the floor.  It was more concise than surface light, something to squint at.  It rose and grew, centering directly in their field of vision.  “These windows respond to light intensity with filtering that keeps us from going blind.  It’s worth it to be able to see.”

The light rushed toward them with increasing acceleration.  It was a square landing coupling, bright, and bigger than the end of the structure.  With immediate gentleness, that was it.  Woollibee looked at the other two.  “The quicker, the better.”

The glow of the landing socket surrounded them on all planes but the floor and the entrance wall.  The light color cycled slowly and seamlessly through the spectrum.  “I like to take a self-portrait when we land,” said Woollibee.  He punched in sequences on a ten-key pad by the door, and pointed to the wall.

“Here it is – here we are.  Welcome to the Arch.”  In the snapshot on the wall, it was hard to tell how big it was with nothing nearby for comparison.  The straight black bar they entered from the air was now judiciously curved into one of the oldest shapes in human construction: the keystone arch, each of its tall feet planted in a glowing patch of light.  Draig traced the outer shape of it in the air with his finger, sighed, and nodded.  Arjun smiled at him from one side.

Though er countenance showed little difference, Arkuda was beaming.  “It’s a distinct pleasure to be here with you, where sunlight has never reached.  Under the mystery.”

“I am the monarch of the seas, living the dream that I’ve always dreamed…” The cheery tune approached them from around the corner, and they were greeted by a gentleman who appeared very merry to meet them. He was dressed Foshani, in a loose shirt of loud seaweed floral print, linen trousers that went partway down the legs, and rope sandals.

“Greetings! I am Arjun Woollibee, of the firm Woollibee & Woollibee. I am the head abyssal inverse dwelling designer. Around here, they call me First AIDD. Yes – I created my own job title. If you have an injury, then you talk to medical.”

The First AIDD made a courteously staged bow and continued. “We have a little time before the tide current brings us under again. There is no defying the tides here on Foshan. Now, they bear us as we have asked. Soon, they will draw us in as we intend.”

“First orders,” and with that the host promptly ignored the General as he focused on the dragon. “I have looked forward to this meeting for some time, Arkuda. And the setting, in every respect, is stranger and more fantastic than I could even have guessed, though I created it.”

“Arjun.” The dragon, er white scales gleaming gold, lowered er bulk into an almost-kneeling launch stance. In handed-headed-torso-bipedal-winged form, Arkuda held er ornamentally ornate wings like a lifted cape. Formal golden jeweled raiment trailed from shoulders and horns. ‘E pointed er horns at Arjun Woollibee and huffed.

The human stepped forward to the dangerous assembly of horns at chest height. He laid his hands on them and began to murmur a stream of indistinguishable language. His eyes alternately widened and narrowed as though reading, a smile flitting to and from his face. Arkuda’s breath was audible and controlled. This stretched on for minutes, as Woollibee made permutations of alignment contact with Arkuda’s horns. The man stood back, wiping sweat off his brow, then mirrored the dragon’s stance in front of em. They lifted their eyes to look into each other’s.

Then they sat, still facing each other; quietly, for equally as long, eyes opening and closing. A seeking was generally about something, but Claymore couldn’t make a guess as to this case. From where he waited to one side while this took precedence, Draig realized he’d been holding his breath. He recalled a visual memory of a small bird doing something very similar, hopping amongst Arkuda’s horns like they were branches. That hadn’t seemed unusual, but then, that was the only time he’d ever seen it. Do birds seek dragons for their own reasons?

He thought back to his first official meeting with Arkuda, part of the very complex process of becoming General Alisandre. It seemed casual in comparison. He wondered at the difference, then acknowledged there was no reason the meetings should be at all alike.

The General’s reverie ended when they stood. Their host went to him directly. “If you can stand a little vertigo, we can move to the end room further ahead, where we can view the descent.” Claymore nodded with surety.

Woollibee talked as they moved. “In here, gravity works more like a spaceship than a watercraft. Don’t assume you know up or down as we go, or that there is an up or down – it’s easier on the constitution. It takes more training to live here than it does to visit. Just know: your feet are on the ground and will remain so.”

The autopod containing General Alisandre and the Dragon Councillor descended smoothly through the layers of Foshan’s atmosphere, reaching the formational storm clouds beneath.  Attendant pressurizing meant they had time to continue discussion.  In their case, that meant Councillor Arkuda carried on a considered monologue while the General concentrated and displayed his reactions and degree of comprehension.

“The difference between seeing a dragon, and meeting a dragon… with the latter, you may have some exchange.  For instance, I don’t actually talk to that many people.”  The General thought that Arkuda talked to a great many, then thought perhaps the dragon drew a distinction between public speaking and conversation.  “Having met once, it’s easier to meet again.  I’m an easier dragon to meet than most.  I am well understood.”  The dragon blinked with satisfaction.  “I have been well understood by many over quite some time, which makes seeking me simple to an unnoticeable degree.”

“Other dragons are more reclusive, even alien to those who haven’t considered eir existence, or thought as to what ‘e might be like, besides simply a dragon.  We have very little in common at times between individuals.”  The dragon briefly clasped er scale-plated hands before bowed head.  “This is our problem currently.”

A noise alerted them that the autopod receiver had made contact and was now guiding their vessel.  Below them loomed a massive black bar sitting very still in the storm-tossed waves.  It was as long as some of the tallest buildings in Alisandre Capital, and radiated shadow from its light-absorbent surface.  A landing port slid open beneath a pop-up fielding, which deflected an errant wave like a stone.  The autopod entered the giant bar with Arkuda and Claymore inside.

The Dragon Councillor had familiarized the General with the kind of bird they use in covert messaging. He hadn’t before needed the service of these creatures, or rather the dragons hadn’t employed them to his function.  Claymore could see the recognition and wayfinding abilities in their eyes.  Their plumed posture belied a sense of humor.  They were said by dragons to have a ‘confusing warble’ which causes them to be strangely forgettable to dragons despite their charming appearance.  Excellent birds, said Arkuda, who seemed to have a fondness for them.  Claymore, too, liked the bird well on its visits, and noted its plumage.

That’s how he knew this was a different bird arriving to his office, not the one with whom he was already friendly.  The bird looked primally satisfied as the man removed its written burden, and left without ceremony.

“3 Pyrean,” spelled the message in shorthand.  Claymore understood why this course of action should follow.  They had discussed seeking, hunting, baiting, drafting, hiring, and auditioning, all relating to different dragons.  They would seek three of this year’s Pyrean Midsummer dragons; Saga, the fourth, was known to have a long-standing conflict with this conflict.

Three Pyrean.  That meant he needed to tie up loose ends today, or at least tuck them in.  Now that the Sturlusson matter was delivered entirely to the Keepers, he could address his new primary duties.  The General opened an occasional line to his planning officer.  They spoke of his likely travel course.

He could continue to be the operatives’ anchor as a briefly active agent.  The royal family didn’t strictly need him at this time, even if they liked having him around.  Keeping himself chained wouldn’t bring the missing Princess any closer.  General Alisandre also needed to pay a visit to Freshwater, for more than one reason – he’d been invited to a rabbit dinner.

“While you’re off-planet, do you want us to shunt communications to the next organizational layer?”

“That will not be necessary – for I, Draig Claymore, am in charge.”

“Thank you, sir.”

After finishing his call, he retrieved his box of previous bird-carried messages.  He translated one of his more recent missives to Councillor Arkuda.  “Cultural liaisons and military historians recommend Viridian Phasing protocols.”

That sentence meant pages of debate that the dragon Councillor would infer because ‘e would be the first to point it out.  Convincing the participation of enough dragons was a battle-scale endeavor.  This war maneuver (for that was what it was), researched and proven in a nearly mythical time, was a matter of rare curiosity.  General Claymore thought to himself that if he could vanquish impending struggle by ringing the first and last note of a twenty-part chorale, he would award himself another imaginary secret medal.  His favorite kind.

This was to be a seeking.  Claymore knew there were steps to a seeking, and Arkuda would make them easy.  But one still had to embark upon it.  From his armoire, General Alisandre selected a midweight streamlined woolen outer.