Sorry the update's a little late; I've had some internet issues at home.
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Kaliel rode through the gates of the compound that Brusk had converted into a training camp. He saw activity everywhere; in the courtyard there were about fifty men and women drilling with spears, while across the way about a dozen held bows, and were shooting at straw dummies. He was pleased to see how hard Lynnisbrook’s citizens were working, but frowned slightly when he saw that none of the soldiers in training wore armor, and that their weapons seemed to be of less than optimal quality.
Brusk came to meet him as he dismounted, and the two clasped hands in greeting.
“You seem to have things well in hand here,” Kaliel said as they walked toward the barracks.
“As well as can be expected,” Brusk said. “They take to the training well, but we’ve had delays in getting proper equipment. It seems that the Guild is reluctant to do any major business in military equipment while they are investigating the death of their factor. For now they’re using sharpened sticks. How are things back home?”
“Things are well,” Kaliel said. “The rebuilding goes quickly. I am hoping that our efforts here might lead to some of these men signing on with the Knights. We could use some new blood. Speaking of which, I would like you to be on the lookout for any Outcaste Dragon-Blooded who show an interest in our company. If you assess them to be trustworthy, I have left some jade armor we recently acquired in the vaults of Chrysanthemum. They may be used as enticements.”
“I was going to ask about the new outfit, sir,” Brusk said, looking at Kaliel’s white jade armor.
“An Immaculate made a poor choice,” was Kaliel’s only reply.
They passed through the barracks toward the area reserved for officers, where Kaliel saw more familiar faces from among his own mercenaries. They arrived at the quarters that Brusk had taken for himself, where Kaliel settled into a wide chair as Brusk poured two glasses of the local whiskey into tin cups.
“Pardon me for saying so, sir,” Brusk said as he handed Kaliel the whiskey, “but I couldn’t help but notice that you do not stink to Yu-Shan.”
Kaliel smiled. “I arrived in Lynnisbrook yesterday. I felt it only proper to make contact with Lady Rinalta upon my arrival. A bath was strongly encouraged by her servants, and I admit was not unwelcome after a month on horseback.”
“I see. And I take it that you put an effort into strengthening the alliance between Lagan and Chrysanthemum?”
“Indeed. She was most enthusiastic about our negotiations, and I must say it seems she has been looking forward to engaging in that sort of diplomacy for some time.”
“I would say the same of you,” Brusk grinned. “I am somewhat surprised to hear you describe Lady Silver in that way. Did you not tell me that your companion Ghost knew her before you? I would have thought, given your descriptions of the man, that he would have handled those… negotiations himself.”
“As would I,” Kaliel admitted, “I find myself unable to fathom his restraint in this case. Rinalta is a beautiful and intelligent woman.”
“Enough talk of bedroom diplomacy,” Brusk said. “How long will you be staying?”
“Not long,” Kaliel admitted. “I must go to meet my companions, who are even now headed East on a ship to Ayama’s village. Tomorrow I will look for passage on a riverboat heading south.”
“In that case,” Brusk said, draining his cup, “there are matters to attend to. We have people working on producing some proper spearheads as fast as possible, but the lack of armor is still a concern. I have an idea, but it will require some assistance from the queen. There are quite a few people in this city who make their living as woodsmen – if they were charged with hunting as many large animals as possible, we could render their hides into serviceable armor.”
“Of course. But why not import hides from Chrysanthemum? The beasts of the North have thicker flesh than Eastern animals.”
Brusk frowned. “I was not aware our own reserves were that vast, sir, considering the recent siege and plague.”
“Send word to have someone approach Blizzard Topples the Oak,” Kaliel said. “The spring hunts will begin soon. Ask him to lure a herd of mammoth or yeddim into the area. Should he prove reluctant, tell him he may negotiate with me upon my return.”
“I understand, sir. I will send the message immediately.”
“You’ll need my seal,” Kaliel said, beginning to rise, but Brusk held up a hand to stay him.
“Already covered, sir.” He picked up a seal from the nearby desk and held it up. “Things need to get done, and you tend to leave frequently,” he said.
“Brusk, I find myself… oddly unsurprised.”
۞
The riverboat made landing at the small fishing village on the banks of the Meander River. As the crew began unloading supplies, five travelers walked down the gangplank, setting foot on solid ground.
“Thank the Unconquered Sun,” Ghost said, stretching. “I enjoyed the trip, but I look forward to solid earth under my feet again for a while.”
“We can stock up on supplies here,” Ayama said, “and make our way south. Petgrana is a week from the river.”
“Just please tell me it will not be so damned hot there,” Zanka complained. The Northerner, her pale skin glistening with sweat, had stripped herself down as much as she could without actually walking about in the nude. Her appearance had drawn many long looks from the sailors on the boat and the towns where they had stopped, and Ayama was certain that the crew had deliberately slowed their travel in order to prolong the time that the beautiful Eclipse would be on board. To be fair, both Lenn and Luc, also natives of the North, were uncomfortable in the Eastern climate, but neither drew quite the amount of attention that Zanka did.
Ghost and Ayama looked at each other. The late spring weather was temperate, at best. “We will see what we can do, Zanka,” Ayama said at last. “At the very least, the forest will be shaded, and breezes are common this time of year.”
“And perhaps we will hold off on planning a journey to Chiaroscuro,” Ghost joked. Zanka stuck out her tongue.
They set out into the forests the next morning, after being given a number of dire warnings against heading into the ‘Forbidden Forest’ and told how people went in and would never return. Ayama assured them that these warnings were typical, and for most would be worth heeding.
“Sunlight Pierces the Canopy is very protective of his territory,” the Zenith explained.
After a week of walking south into the forest, Ayama announced one day that they had crossed into the lands claimed by Sunlight Pierces the Canopy. Less than a half-hour later, a spot of dappled sunlight on the forest floor shimmered, and resolved itself into an elaborate mandala.
“So,” said a voice floating on the breeze, “my good and faithful servant has returned to take her rightful place at my side?”
“I have come back with guests,” Ayama said.
“More worshipers?” Sunlight Pierces the Canopy asked. They felt the spirit’s attention drift over all of them, and then settle on Zanka. “Or perhaps you bring me something more?”
“Whatever offer you wish to make, I am certain that Zanka can make those negotiations on her own behalf,” Ayama said. “For now, we merely wish to get to Petgrana.”
“It is probably good that you have brought friends,” Sunlight Pierces the Canopy said.
“What do you mean by that?” Ayama asked.
“You did not receive my message?” the spirit’s voice was perturbed. Ayama shook her head.
“You recall the barbarian tribes in the area? Those who have left us in peace for many years? It seems that recently they have had a change of heart. They have been quite persistent in trying to find your home – only the efforts of White Rocks Dancing have kept us ahead of their plans.”
“That is unfortunate,” Ayama said. She knew White Rocks Dancing was actually a collection of minor river spirits, whose course ran through several marble deposits further east before running close to Petgrana. The spirits had been good sources of information in the past, although the flow of communication was restricted to moving downstream.
“I will not impede your progress to Petgrana,” Sunlight Pierces the Canopy said. “Your son Rutendo can give you the details – and fill you in on other surprises as well.” A note of amusement crept into the spirit’s voice.
Behind the mandala, the undergrowth of the forest seemed to shift, revealing a clear path. Nodding, Ayama made her way past the spirit, followed by the others. Ghost was the last to pass by.
“Hello, Sunlight!” he said cheerfully. “Remember me?”
The mandala vanished, and there was a sudden rush of wind that kicked up leaves and dust as the spirit departed.
“He remembers.”
A few minutes later, as they walked along the path, an arrow suddenly sprouted from a tree trunk next to her head.
“Halt and identify yours… oh! Mistress Ayama!” Emerging from the forest nearby came about a half-dozen young men and women, wearing dark clothing patterned after the forest. Each held a bow and a quiver of arrows. None of them were adults, though most were only a year or two younger than Zanka.
“I’m sorry, Mistress!” the youth who had fired the arrow said. He knelt down in front of Ayama.
“I understand,” Ayama said, placing her hand on the boy’s head. “Sunlight Pierces the Canopy tells me you have every reason to be wary.” She looked at the group. “Do your parents know what you are doing?”
“Yes, Mistress,” the boy said. “This is where we were assigned to patrol. It’s not so bad here, because this is west of the town and they never come from this way, but still…”
“Of course.” Ayama removed her hand from the boy’s head and put it under his chin, lifting gently to prompt him to rise. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I will let you go about your task, then.”
“I will send two people to escort you to the town,” the boy said. Two of the younger children, a boy and girl, stepped forward and began walking along the trail ahead of the others.
They came upon Petgrana only a few minutes later, suddenly appearing in the midst of the thick forest. Ayama was surprised to see that the town was now surrounded by a wooden palisade wall. At a signal from their escorts, the gate opened, and they walked into the town of Petgrana. Rows of wooden longhouses were scattered all about the village, smoke rising from the chimneys of a few, and Ayama could see that two new longhouses had been built since she had left, and the communal lodge that served as Petgrana’s town hall and hospital bore the framework of a recently started expansion.
“I do not remember those from when I was here last,” Ghost said, looking up. Following his gaze, Ayama saw that several dwellings had been built in the trees above, connected by simple rope bridges.
“It is larger than I expected,” Zanka commented.
“Petgrana has never been small,” Ayama said. “It began as a logging encampment many years ago, before it was transformed into a community of healers.” She turned to the others. “We should go to the elder’s longhouse first. Then we can find my son.”
“Please tell me it is cooler in the elder’s longhouse,” Zanka said. Her platinum blonde hair hung in damp curls from her scalp.
Ayama frowned, and then turned to their young escorts. “Will one of you please take my friend to a place where she may sit quietly and cool off? She is from the North.”
“We will take her to the cold house,” the young girl said. Seeing Ayama’s questioning look, she added, “one of the shamans was able to trade for some ice-stones recently. We use them to keep our larder cool.”
Ayama nodded. “Luc, you may accompany Zanka. The rest of us will go to see the elders.”
They separated, and Ayama, Ghost, and Lenn all made their way to one of the longhouses near the center of town. The guards outside saw Ayama coming, and immediately stepped aside, nodding in deference to the Zenith as she passed inside.
The interior was sparsely furnished, with most of the floor space clear to accommodate meetings with the elders. Five chairs stood against the far wall, the traditional seats of the five elders of the town. Two things came to Ayama’s immediate attention as she walked in. The first was that her son, Rutendo, was sitting in the chair designated for the town’s war leader.
The second, and most surprising, was that he was surrounded by the blazing anima of a Fire-Aspected Exalt.
۞
Kaliel sat near the fire, watching the flickering flames cast patterns of light and shadow across the ground. Once again, his gaze returned to the old man seated on the other side of that fire. The man balanced a bowl on his knees, half-filled with rice and roasted vegetables. Half of a pheasant sat on the rim, mostly untouched.
He had taken passage on a riverboat out of Lagan as planned, and had intended to head south until he reached the Yellow River, and then go on from there. But he had changed to a vessel heading for Sijan upon hearing rumors that Imperial ships had been seen in greater numbers on the River of Tears, and that they had even been boarding some vessels to conduct ‘inspections’. From Sijan he decided to travel over land to Great Forks, where he would resume his river journey.
Two days outside of Sijan, he encountered an old man traveling the same road. The man asked to accompany Kaliel, in order to benefit from the protection offered by the massive Northern warrior. In exchange, the man stated, he offered his own familiarity with the area, which would help them travel faster. Kaliel agreed, and they had ridden together for many leagues. The man had not given his name, and had not asked for one; this was the way of things among travelers, to avoid unneeded complications should the identity of one’s traveling companion prove a troublesome burden.
It had been a few days before a suspicion crossed Kaliel’s mind; he guessed that the man was a Dragon-Blood. He could see that the man was unusually healthy and lively for one of his advanced age, and there was a fluidity to his movements and speech that suggested an affinity with Water. Furthermore, and most concerning, were the small habits and turns of phrase which suggested the old man had Imperial upbringing. Kaliel had considered calling him out when he realized this, but had decided to wait – the man had been nothing but pleasant. Certainly, the man recognized the origin of his jade armor, but had not made comment or reacted poorly.
Finally, however, Kaliel had decided to broach the subject this night. “Grandfather,” he said respectfully, “I must admit that I am surprised that someone of your years has so successfully traveled these lands for so many years. What business causes you to make such journeys?”
The old man smiled. “Well, as you have been good company, and for the most part honest with me, I see no reason not to return the courtesy. And yes, I do know who you are, Kaliel, for it is my business to know such things.”
“That is no great surprise,” Kaliel said, “my reputation was made quite public in the East on the day of my Exaltation. I am correct, then, in my assumption that you are from the Empire.”
He smiled. “I am Cathak Selles, Magistrate of the Scarlet Empire.”
Kaliel nodded. “I have heard that things have become difficult for the Magistrates recently.”
“Let us just say that more of my fellow Magistrates have been ‘ambushed by brigands’ in the past five years than were killed in the previous five centuries. There is reason I chose to travel with you. But, we still have a job that needs to be done. People do not like magistrates, judges, watchmen, or any who keep order, but still we must do our job to keep Creation from falling into Chaos. When Chaos last invaded, it nearly did not end well for us. This is the history that all in the Empire are taught at an early age, as we do not want it to happen again.”
“Agreed,” said Kaliel, “though you might consider that there are others out there more suited to shouldering the burden of bringing order to Creation.”
“When you have been in the field as long as I,” Cathak Selles said, “you learn to keep your options open. I believe that even though you are… pardon the term, Anathema…”
“We prefer ‘Chosen of the Unconquered Sun’.”
“Even though you are Chosen,” Selles stated, “I think you recognize that the Realm itself is not necessarily an enemy. I hope that we can one day come to some arrangement on that matter that will prove beneficial to both sides.”
“Any such arrangement would have to begin with the return of that which belongs to me.”
Selles looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded. “Ah, yes. That is not an area in which I have much influence, especially in these times. But I can make some contacts within my House, and see what might be done about your situation with the V’Neef.”
“Just make certain that nothing you do brings them to harm,” Kaliel warned. “Creation is not large enough to hide you.”
The Cathak smiled. “I have not survived a hundred and fifty years on the road by being foolish.”
Kaliel returned the grin. “I hope we may have the chance to meet again one day,” he said.
“As do I. But tomorrow, we must part ways. We will reach the river, and I am meeting an Imperial transport to Greyfalls there. I assume you will choose another vessel.”
“A wise assumption,” Kaliel replied. Then he looked again at the bowl on Cathak Selles’ lap, and gestured at the pheasant. “Are you going to eat that?”
۞
“I would make some comment on how much you have changed since I left,” Ayama said carefully to her son, “but that would not encompass the degree of my surprise.”
Rutendo smiled wistfully, even as his fiery anima faded and died down. “If it is any consolation, you are not the only one who was surprised.” He gestured at the last wisps of his aura. “You must excuse… this. I was in the midst of training exercises when I was told that visitors were coming to the elder’s longhouse. I was not informed who those visitors were.”
“I see.” Ayama forced herself to blink. “And you are well?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“And that is really what is most important,” she said. “We will speak more later.”
“I am glad you are here,” Rutendo said. “You have been told of our situation?”
“Sunlight Pierces the Canopy met us in the forest.”
“I suspect that Sunlight is more nervous than he allows himself to show. The barbarians have been very aggressive in their search, and have been clearing some areas of the forest. So far they have only touched the outer edges of his territory, but it is only a matter of time. Our scouts tell us that the tribes’ shamans have been urging their warriors to hasten the search, and we fear that before long they may resort to burning down the entire forest.”
Ayama shuddered. Such behavior was unthinkable among the tribes who lived in the forests, and the loss of life if the forest were set ablaze…
“Is this a raid?” Ghost asked. Rutendo shook his head.
“They have come with their women and children,” he said, “and they have gathered together in a large group; they number in the thousands. These are all tribes from further East, nearer the Elemental Pole; they have driven out the tribes that once lived in that area; many have come here and settled. I am certain you noticed their dwellings above us. Petgrana is now home to three times the number you knew when you left, Mother. They have added many capable warriors to our village, and helped to improve our defenses.”
Ayama looked around the room at the other four elders. Three were faces she recognized; they had been elders when she left. The fourth, however, was one of the chiefs of the barbarian tribes that had once lived outside Petgrana’s borders, a middle-aged man with skin the color of mahogany, and black hair that flowed unbound down his back and shoulders. It took her a moment to place his name; Chief Branch-Shaker.
“What do we know of their motives in seeking Petgrana so aggressively?” Ayama asked.
“Nothing, I fear. We have not been able to get close enough to their main encampment to learn much, and their language is different enough from the tongues spoken by the local tribes that we cannot get good intelligence. Chief Branch-Shaker says that the languages are close enough to conduct trade, but not exchange complex topics.”
“We would trade with them,” Chief Branch-Shaker said, in halting Forest-Tongue, “many seasons ago. They were not then how they are now.”
“The Wyld?” Ghost asked. He had mostly been standing in the back, trying to keep Lenn up to speed on the conversation. The newly-Exalted Lunar, born and raised in the North, did not understand a word of Forest-Tongue; Ghost was translating into Riverspeak for him.
“We have seen no sign of taint on those we have encountered,” Rutendo said, “and certainly no Fair Folk.”
Ayama turned to Chief Branch-Shaker. “When the new tribes came,” she asked, “did they come to you and ask you to leave, or did they just attack?”
“To talk is not our way,” he replied. “The strong must conquer the weak so that the strong may live.”
“I see. In that case, I will see what I can do to help. But first, I should present my companions to you. I expect that you will remember Resplendent Ghost of Midnight.”
Ghost smiled and bowed with a flourish.
“Next to him is Lenn, who has come with us from Cherak in the North seeking answers about himself. In the cold house is another from the North; Zanka Odokari, my companion. Luc, my adopted nephew, remains with her.”
Rutendo raised a brow. “Nephew?”
She smiled slightly at she looked at her son. “Have you given me grandchildren yet, Rutendo? If the answer is no, then I may adopt who I wish.” The exchange had the sound of old, familiar territory for both of them.
Chief Branch-Shaker was looking over Lenn. “What answers does this one seek?”
“He has been Chosen, as I have,” Ayama said. “But not by the Sun. He is a Chosen of Luna. He has come here because…” she searched for a moment to explain the concept, “because he has been bestowed with the totem of the mongoose, an animal with is unknown in his homeland, but is common here. I felt that he might be able to discover more of his essential being here.”
Chief Branch-Shaker nodded. “We will bring him before our shamans, and teach him of our ways.” When Lenn was informed of this, he seemed somewhat disheartened that he was to be turned over to barbarians, but understood he was likely to learn more about his Lunar heritage through them than he was from Petgrana’s healers and midwives.
“Are your other companions also Chosen?” the chief asked.
“Both Ghost and Zanka are Chosen of the Sun, like myself,” Ayama said. “Luc is not, but may have useful skills.”
“And this Zanka, why does she stay in the cold house?” asked one of the other elders, a frail woman named Rumeena.
“She is from the North, and has not accustomed herself to our climate.”
Chief Branch-Shaker spoke. “I will ask our shamans to summon the spirits of the earth, to create a dwelling amongst the roots of the trees. This will be cooler than the homes that rest upon the ground or in the trees.”
“I thank you,” Ayama said bowing.
“Anything to accommodate the Chosen Ones,” the chief replied.
“I am certain that many of the young men of the village will gladly volunteer to douse Zanka in water regularly,” Ghost said.
“She is beautiful, then?” the chief asked with a smile.
“An extraordinary beauty, and exotic as well,” Ayama said. “Please be aware that the people of the North do not typically grow as tall as those of the East; though she may have what appears to be the stature of a child, she is an adult, and should be treated as such.”
“We have kept your dwelling as you left it,” Rumeena said. “Though it may require some attention. We will send some of the village girls to assist you. We will also show your companions to where they may stay.”
“Thank you,” Ayama said. “Rutendo, I expect I will see you later?”
“I know how long to wait, Mother,” he said to her. She turned and left the longhouse.
“Ghost,” Lenn said, “shouldn’t we stay with her?” But Ghost shook his head vehemently.
“I was here before, and saw what kind of cleaning she did just getting ready to leave,” he told Lenn. “Trust me; we want to be nowhere near that house for a while.”