Cauldron House
Friends and readers, I must abandon my usual efforts of simply relaying the tales others have passed on to me to give a first-hand account of the wonder that is the Cauldron House. I hope you can forgive me for inserting myself into the story in such a way, but I have never heard the true wonder of the place captured in mere words, and I'd not have the blame fall to one of those kind enough to allow me to publish their story. So you must contend with my own prose, which, while insufficient, may still convey my sense of wonder at the sights and sounds.
The Cauldron House, being the home base of the Cauldron Society, is the primary location of their auctions. The main ballroom, and the reason for my descriptions here, is where these and other events take place. Auctions always begin immediately following high tide - the reason for that will soon be clear.
When one first enters the hall, they will probably be taken with the opulence. As an art lover, I barely made it a few feet into the room before needing to stop and examine the intricate tapestries lining the walls. The first tapestry, directly to my right as I entered, was a depiction of the Death of Nagalaut, though it varied substantially from the traditional depiction. The ships surrounding it bore flags of different kingdoms, each now a Duchy, and the city burned in the background. I am, of course, aware that this is a more accurate depiction, though I wonder if the Corel's are aware of the deviation this close to home. At the time, however, I only vaguely recognized the differences in the subject, so captivated I was by the technique to be found.
After taking in the image, the vibrancy of the colors struck me. The image implied that the tapestry must be quite old, but the colors were not faded in the manner that I would expect after such a time. Instead, they remained vibrant across the full range - the purple and gray skin of the beast merged into the dark waters; the waters themselves were deep and layered, subtle shifts in color giving a feel of motion and depth down to the blackest of blacks; the dark clouds gave birth to bright yellow shafts of lightning slashing across the sky and striking boat and beast alike; and the break in the clouds over the city showed the shining pearlescence of the palace standing tall amidst the ruins. The colors drew me in until I was mere inches from it, able to see the individual threads, and what I saw amazed me. I have a great interest in tapestries - well, I have a great interest in everything, so this shouldn't surprise - and I have seen them made by people simply seeking warmth to those seeking the creation of true beauty, but I have never seen any that compare to these. I focused on one particular spot, near the bottom of the tapestry and only a few feet from the ground - a point where lightning had struck the water, brightening it from the deep colors of the rest of the water to an electric blue that stirred my would just looking at it. As I crouched over, I saw that it had not been achieved by taking various dyed strands and weaving them together - each color was clearly a different material entirely! In just a one inch square, I saw the heart of the lightning, which was a yellow so bright it was nearly white, and the threads were incredibly fine, packed more than 500 threads to the inch. Outside the heart of the bolt, the yellow faded in brightness to gold, and the thread material changed along the way. In a quarter of an inch, there were at least half a dozen unique thread colors moving from the brightest yellow to mellow gold, and I spent long minutes fascinated by this. when it became clear that the method was to take the thread at the heart of the lightning and wrap it in even finer gold wire, making the loops closer on the threads that needed to be darker, I was even more amazed. I pulled back, seeing the bolts of lightning throughout the tapestry, knowing how much gold and how much work went into it. I looked at the god rays shining through the sky onto the city, and recognized the gold there as well.
I focused in again, and saw how the gold then wrapped around blue threads, working a transition to the sea, and how the blue fiber itself was some type of textile that reflected the light in strange ways. As my shadow crossed over it, sometimes it would appear to reflect, and sometimes it would absorb, working to give a feeling of motion. I would have sworn this was magic, had I not known better, and in a way it was. The artisan responsible had a kind of magic all their own, in many ways more impressive than the tossing about of flaming balls that wizards and witches claim as their own.
Ah, but I have let myself wander, and shown why I do not involve myself in the story. I promise you a tale of wonder, of beauty that surpasses description, then proceed to describe in the tiniest detail a beautiful tapestry. I do not fault any reader who, at this point, thinks I may be losing myself a bit in my recollections, or who thinks to themselves that they have seen enough lovely tapestries themselves that they could have done a better job describing them than I have. My fault entirely, as I have again let myself be distracted from what is at hand to tell a tale of something else that has caught my eye - any who have met my long-suffering companion Dembe would surely have heard stories about how I tend to ramble on. Let me assure you, the tapestries are not the wonder of Cauldron House, lovely as they are. Neither are the carved doors, the flanking statues, or the painted ceiling, though any of them would be the centerpiece of any museum in the land. No, the wonder is the Cauldron itself.
While the members of the Cauldron Society will claim that the house and the Cauldron are named after them, this beggars belief. The idea that somehow, a group of wealthy citizens from various occupations deciding that they would be called the Cauldron Society and then coming across a natural formation that looks just like a cauldron is patently ridiculous. If they claimed to have created the Cauldron, that would be one thing, but none are willing to go that far. Manderlay's Razor demands that instead we think about the possibility that there was a natural formation called the Cauldron, and when the society took up around it, they named themselves for it.
Before I go further down that path, let us refocus on the Cauldron. In the center of the room, surrounded by the tiers of seats, private boxes, and standing room, there is a large stage. The stage is used for the Society's various functions, whether that be an auction, a production of a new drama, or a meeting to determine what everyone will be paying for grain this year. The stage is made of a clear crystal - so clear that if one walks across it, they appear to be floating in the air. Beneath the stage less the Cauldron.
If you don't know the place, Cauldron House sits on a cliff above Corellum Bay - below the main plateau on its own ledge, so it appears to be clinging to the side of the overall cliff. It is about 20 feet overall above the docks of Corellum, and with the windows of the room opened, the lights of the city provide quite a view. There is no beach or landing of any sort in the area - just a sheer drop-off to the water. A small inlet sits directly below the House, just above where low tide sits.
Something about the way the cave twists around causes a bit of a phenomenon when the tide is high. The cauldron itself is 40 feet around at the top, as close to a perfect circle as I have seen nature produce. It narrows slightly, before ballooning out in a large almost spherical opening below, 60 feet across at the widest point. When the tide rises, water fills chambers below, taking nearly the entire time it takes the tide to go from low to high to fill the various chambers. As the tide reaches its zenith, the water can no longer be contained and it bursts forth from hundreds of tiny openings around the cauldron - openings that point slightly down and cannot be seen from above. In moments, the cauldron goes from having only a foot or two of water at the bottom to a raging whirlpool almost full to the stage. The water crashing in overwhelms the other sounds of the room, and anything lower than a shout cannot be heard from more than a foot or so away, drowned in the crashing of the water and the singing of the crystal.
Did I fail to mention the singing of the crystal? Because it sings with the voice of a Deva - beautiful at times, though terrible as well. The first waves of water cause it to resonate with low, drawn-out tones of peace and contentedness. The crystal is caressed by the water, and it responds with a caress of its own, bypassing the ears to go straight into the soul, a balm to ease the spirit. But the water rises, and the time for a slow caress is over. The waves begin to slap the crystal, sounding notes both higher and lower than the gentle chords of the filling cauldron. Tones that call to mind the chaos of a battlefield, but one under the control of a clever general who directs his troops through the chaos to their goal. A melody can be heard beneath the cacophony, although no two people are said to hear it the same. To me, it seemed as though the discordant notes eventually fell away, my mind removing them while it took in the music that was meant for me. When first I heard it, an old friend had recently passed, and the music was an elegy for them, a reminder of the good times and bad, and a final note of peace to let them go.
As the tides pass their apex, and the music subsides, the waters calm briefly. But within moments, the waters begin to bubble and churn, as though a witches brew had been set on the flame. The water roils, and the crystal vibrates, chords that should have remained unheard blasting across the House. The music has changed - no longer a melody, but a dissonance that sets the soul on edge. A weak mind may fall to the dissonance, seeing traitors in every glance and knowing that everyone seeks to destroy them. A strong mind rises above, gaining clarity and realizing the true motives of boon companions, often to the detriment of those hiding their intentions. But who knows whether they are a strong mind or a weak, when the Cauldron bubbles? I briefly questioned Dembe - Dembe! - before coming to my senses. Does that make me weak-minded for doubting? I have never claimed to be that strong, so perhaps I was, but our bond held regardless.
Be wary, gentle reader, if you go to the Cauldron, and moreso on nights when a moon is full. When two are full, they tend to cancel each other, so do not concern yourself overly much - on such nights, the music is gentle, and a balm to the spirit. (Not even I have lived through the three being full at once, and I have no intention of being at the Cauldron when the day finally arrives.) But if one is full while the others are not, beware. Mesic, large but far, while have the least effect when full, though one may be forced to examine their assumptions of the Morbius when it is. Lanin is closer but smaller, and seems to have a greater effect. If Lanin is full, both melody and dissonance are stronger. Keep your emotions in check. Ah, but if Nila is full - close, small, and silvery Nila, the moon of the Ecologus - that's when you are in for a show. The entirety of the cauldron lasts for a dozen minutes under Nila, and the Cauldron fills with bioluminescent species of fish and algae. Lit by the natural light of the sea, those tapestries I mentioned earlier become even greater wonders.
My friends, I have gone on long enough. If you have the opportunity to see the Cauldron - and most won't, so I hope this fills the void for many of you - and you find me in the future, please share your own descriptions with me, so this poor prose can be replaced with something that can speak to the heart.
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