Most Saenochs, if intrigued enough, will leave their sections carved into and above the barrier, and descend to interact with mortals directly. However, interacting with this one requires a little more effort on the part of the mortal. To speak with the Saenoch of collection and knowledge, one must descend into the abyss of their section.
Don't expect to actually meet the elusive Saenoch Zaeglar, for no mortal nor Land nor Saenoch has ever seen them. From adventurer's records, we can assume they lurk somewhere down in the seaweed-filled trenches right at the deepest part of their realm, hiding amongst the wispy fronds. Due to the secrecy of Zaeglar, artists and worshippers prefer to depict them as one of their Pisces servants lurking within the currents, as their realm appears - a deep ocean, with plants waving in the currents, algae-covered ruins, and a sunken city of waterlilies - or as one of their silver vessels found scattered across the Nine.
Nobody is quite sure how many of Zaeglar's decanters of knowledge can be found upon the Lands, but at least sixteen have been recorded so far in history. The eldritch bottles are small and silver, carved all over with words from a language only partially translated and stoppered with a strange chunk of bleached bone. Deep within, the black liquid glistens and seems to whisper, tempting the finder to take a sip. From the moment the liquid touches mortal lips, they are blessed with forbidden and supernatural knowledge. A few of these ominous vessels will do no damage, but one too many will leave the drinker forever craving more, addicted to the forbidden and driven mad by its power.
Such was the fate of the mage Sirebel, who claimed he owed all of his skill in the field of thaumaturgy to Saenoch Zaeglar. Having already found and consumed one of Zaeglar's eldritch vessels whilst collecting ingredients in the swamps, Sirebel had been granted a firm understanding of ingredients for strengthening solutions, which proved to be his undoing. A thaumaturgist's sense of curiosity is only strengthened the further into the subject they go, and when Sirebel unearthed another of Zaeglar's silver decanters, the black concoction within just begged to be experimented on.
For many days and nights, Sirebel worked with the silver vessel, adding various ingredients known for fortification. Vampire tears, Mepasir's Eye flower petals, Wizard's Robe nectar, and lion fur; all went into the Saenoch's eldritch vessel, hissing and firing sparks as the components blended with the black brew within. Holding his breath, the thaumaturgist swallowed Saenoch Zaeglar's modified potion, and felt it latch onto him. All at once, it was as if Sirebel had downed ten of Zaeglar's potions, inflicting him with both the knowledge and addiction held within. The formerly stable, if curious, thaumaturgist had become an obsessive lunatic, craving more than the silver vessels could offer him.
No, the only knowledge that would satisfy him came directly from Saenoch Zaeglar themselves, and there was one way of getting to them. Dominating two of Zaeglar's Pisces servants, Sirabel commanded them to bring him to their master's section. The two Pisces obeyed, and it is said Sirabel still swims through the eternal waters of the Saenoch's section to this day, never quite able to find the elusive wisdom he seeks.
The thaumaturgist Sirabel is one of many unwitting mortals who found themselves forever within Saenoch Zaeglar's realm. The Saenoch of collection and knowledge sees everyone and everything on the Nine as holding their own individual wisdoms. Zaeglar admits they knows much, but not all, and they too can learn more. Thus, the Saenoch enjoys collecting those who swim into his realm, taking copies of all the individualities the mortals in their realm and piecing them together. What Zaeglar aims to do with their knowledge is anyone's guess, but theories suggest they are trying to create a vessel for their wisdom, disguised as the perfect mortal.
Of course, some would argue that the use of individual wisdoms will only produce imperfection. After all, there is no such thing as individuality, and you cannot create something from nothing...