Kiravi's Travelogue Ch. 03

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Despite the hangover, I woke up happier than I had the day before, and Leotie was still molded tightly against my body. She whimpered in her sleep, so quietly that even I could barely hear it, and twitched and twisted uncomfortably despite the soft furs and my body heat. It may surprise you, dear readers, that I was not -- and still am not -- simply a shameless womanizer, concerned only with my own needs and bedding as many women as possible: on some level, I cared about each one. That said, I looked down at the half-breed huntress, her brow furrowed with imagined pain or concern, and gently brushed her auburn hair and the pale skin of her cheek.

She started awake, red eyes flying open, unfocused. After a moment of panic and my arm wrapping tightly around her lithe body, Leotie realized where she was and calmed down at least a bit.

"You were dreaming," I whispered to her, not wanting to wake the two dozen other sleeping patrons.

"I'm fine," she grumbled, refusing to meet my eyes. "Get off of me," she petulantly shrugged my arm away, "I need to get going."

For the moment, I didn't try and stop her, just watching from my back as she stood up in the barely lit gloom and started pulling on what was left of her gear. The sun was just beginning to warm the Eastern Wastes with its light, and hardly any of it trickled through the narrow windows of the traveling house. Even still, I sighed contentedly as she cinched her breeches tightly with their repaired thongs over pale muscles and curves, savoring the moment. I couldn't help but wonder what she'd been dreaming of that flustered her so much.

She kicked my leg under the bundled furs, "What are you doing? Get up: you owe me a new breastplate, remember?"

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, "None of the markets will be open yet."

Leotie grumbled, "I don't care. I'm not staying in here any longer," I saw the silhouette of her head glance around, "Too many people." Niknik appeared from the shadowy pile of her gear, nuzzling against his master after a good yawn and stretch.

"Fine, fine," I grumbled, keeping my voice low and trying to remain quiet as I pulled on my breeches and a thin cotton undershirt. It was going to be far too hot for a breastplate, I thought, remembering the absolute misery of trekking in full kit the first few days of my journey. Despite my attempts at discretion, a few of the other patrons grumbled in their half-sleep, murmuring curses at us that chased us out the door and into the brisk morning.

Leotie caught me staring at her toned body as we lingered outside of the traveling house in the empty street, torso still mostly exposed except where her bandeau covered her plump breasts, and shoved my arm, "You got what you wanted last night, noble. Now stop staring at me."

I laughed, and the sound echoed off of the bricks. Someone barked from their window at us, admonishing our early activity, "You got what you wanted too, huntress. Twice, I believe." I stared down at her, smirking as her eyes spat venom back up at me. Neither of us flinched for a long moment until a faint blush rose in her cheeks, and she turned to walk down the street. I trotted after, "Where will you go, huntress, after I clothe you?" The question of who, if anyone, I would take with me still rattled again between my ears.

Looking back, I suppose, I should've anticipated her almost immediate answer, "Why in the Chaos Wastes do you care?"

"Just a thought," I said diplomatically, "I'm headed west, across the river and over to the Seleyo."

"How wonderful for you."

I gave up for the moment, and we wandered slowly around the city as the dark purple sky gradually lightened. The stars winked out one by one, and the oppressive heat built and built with the coming morning. I purposefully kept us away from the temple district, my own trepidation at making a decision subconsciously leading me not to have to make one at all.

What if the temple wasn't done with her? Or, more likely, what if she wanted to return home? Despite the nearly infinite possibilities of what I could do with -- and to -- her, the path I had to take was no place for her. That's what I told myself then, anyway. Leotie would be a much more suitable companion, I thought.

If she got the stick out of her ass.

The markets finally opened, the stalls and patchy awnings filling with wares as sleepy-eyed merchants and artisans prepared for another day in the heat-blasted city. I glanced at the toned muscles of Leotie's back, realized I'd all but made my decision, and I decided to try and convince the half-breed to accompany me a bit more blatantly. We stopped in front of a tanner's shack, the stink of vats of shit, piss, gore, and brains cloying in the air. Leotie wrinkled her nose at the stench, but I was used to such 'civilized' aromas that came with cities and industry.

"I need a breastplate," I said to the merchant over the growing sounds of the bustling market.

The pudgy old Enges vendor lilted his way over on bowed legs, openly leering at Leotie, wearing only her bandeau and breeches. For her part, she practically snarled at the ruddy-faced tanner, who only smiled wider at her discomfort, "You, or her?" He asked, his northern accent thick and harsh. "You'll cost extra, big lad like you."

"It's for her," I looked across the selection he'd put out on display, laying across the dusty ground or hanging from the awning he'd erected that did little to spare us from the heat.

"Don't have many cut for a woman so 'gifted,'" The Enges laughed uproariously at his own lewd gesture, holding his hands up in front of his chest and squeezing the air.

I rolled my eyes and instinctively took half a step to the side to get between Leotie and the lech. She snorted in annoyance but did nothing, and the tanner's eyes widened when he saw the handful of obsidian chips and copper nuggets I pulled out of my belt and showed to him, "Show me the best you have that will fit her."

Leotie made a different, curious sound behind me, but I kept my gaze fixed on the annoying tanner. "Yes, my lord," the Enges stumbled on his words, correctly assuming that I was a member of the Empire's young nobility. He dug through the stacked wares he had scattered all around and hanging on the various racks, and I noticed that despite his annoying behavior, the quality of his work was quite good. I smiled to myself: there was nothing wrong with being a lecherous bastard, as long as you were slick about it.

"Here we are," the tanner said, proud of himself and breathing heavily from the effort of sorting. "The lady can try it on, of course."

It was a masterful piece of work, maybe even commissioned by some noble charioteer and then refused or forgotten about. He'd dyed the leather a deep, rich red, and the inside was lined with downy vicuña fur. The Enges has sewn-in uncut but polished precious stones across the breastplate's front, the blues and greens and purples shining brightly against the dark red leather. The stones were capable of shattering flint blades and arrowheads and turning copper or bronze weapons as well. But, beyond that, the craftsman had laid the smaller and more polished stones in the pattern of two horses and chariot with a noble rider. More stones crossed the leather of the back, though there was no clear pattern there.

I handed it to Leotie, whose eyes widened at the fantastic piece of craftsmanship but then narrowed as she glared at me, "Why are you giving me this? I don't need this."

"Because I want to," I said with a shrug. Because I want to bribe you into coming west with me, I thought to myself.

"What do you think this is going to get you?" Her face was flushing, in embarrassment or anger or something else, I didn't know. "Whatever you think it is, it's not going to work. I'm not going to be bribed into owing you anything else."

I sighed heavily, turning away from her for a moment and shoving the payment into the Enges' hand. "I'm buying it for you because I want you to come with me across to the Seleyo. That's all." Well, that wasn't all, and her first assumption was mostly correct, but then wasn't the time to reveal that.

She spluttered, momentarily confused and wrong-footed, "Why would I do that?" She asked, even though she was already pulling on the new breastplate.

I wanted to, and very nearly did, say that nothing was keeping her here on this side of the Nekoar, but I managed to stop myself. "New lands to see, new things to hunt, new magic to learn. And, most importantly, excellent company," I smiled the most roguish and rakish smile from my repertoire of such disarming gestures.

There was that flash of anger again, but she seemed legitimately conflicted. Instead of answering, she focused on cinching herself into her new armor, her bandeau mostly managing to keep her generous chest out of the way. It fit nearly perfectly and cinched tightly enough to accentuate her breasts and narrow waist, and I forced myself to leer less than the Enges has. Slightly less.

"Good enough for you, huntress?"

She nodded slightly, running her hands over the stones embedded in the vest. "Yes. It's very gaudy, though."

"It suits you," I said, and she glared. "So, will you come with me? I will trek over to the Seleyo and then float south, perhaps. I haven't decided."

Leotie pressed her lips together tightly, wrinkling her brow with thought. I could see her arguing with herself, going round and round in her head as I had done when agonizing over Leotie and Serina. "Fine," she muttered before saying exactly what I'd thought earlier, "What you see here is everything I have left in this world."

I smiled widely at her, thrilled at how easily I'd managed to find myself a companion skilled at both crossing the desert and taking care of my other needs. "Well, let's go then! We can at least make it to the far side of the river by the end of the day, maybe further," I grabbed her hand and tugged her along before she could string together too much of a coherent reply, and Niknik made a low and threatening grumble in his throat. Leotie, resigned to follow me, hushed him but handed him a nugget of smoked meat for his concern.

I spent another handful of obsidian on some extra waterskins, dried meat, hollowed-out gourds of beer, and a cheap cotton shirt for Leotie to wear between her pale red-tinged skin and new armor. As we moved through the city, though, something, a final pant of regret, tugged at my gut and, no matter how much I wanted just to leave Atala behind and continue my journey, I let my feet carry me towards the temple district. If Leotie realized or understood what my weakness was causing me to do, she didn't let on that she did.

The temples appeared again over the intervening houses and stalls, the bronze idols of the Pashudia winking in the morning sunlight, taunting my damnably weak heart. Just a quick pass by the doors of the temple, I told myself, maybe a kind word to the acolytes standing outside: that was it. That would be enough to wipe the shameful stain from my conscience and allow me to go west with an unburdened mind.

Leotie has cottoned on by then and whispered harshly in my ear, "You didn't mention anything about bringing her."

"All I'm doing is checking on her before we leave. The Priests will need much more time with her, I'm sure," I told Leotie and tried to convince myself as well.

We turned the last corner, and the bronze-inlaid doors glowed ahead of us. A handful of acolytes were already chanting their prayers in the street or asking for donations, and the staff had cracked the doors in case any early morning worshippers wanted to visit. I unconsciously increased our pace, undoubtedly eager to cut this last string tying me to the eastern bank of the Nekoar and my home. The same matronly acolyte from four days before noticed me and smiled, waving her robed arm at me. I opened my mouth to offer a simple platitude and an empty question about Serina before taking off.

A figure emerged from the cracked doors, and my heart jumped while my stomach plummeted inside me. Serina waved ecstatically at me as she rushed out of the temple, wearing a heavy traveling pack and furnished with a new walking stick from the Pashudia priests. Leotie snorted with annoyance before Serina got close enough to throw herself at me in an exuberant hug.

Shit

***

I found Kiravi's scattered and rambling notes some time ago after he taught me to read and write the Ymdroki script, and wondered whether or not I should read them. He hopes one day to scatter the record of his, our, journeys amongst the Academies and Temples that we visit, to tell others of the wider world and the dangers within and beyond it. I read through them, and I'm glad that I did, and I decided to sneak this short passage in amongst his tangled mess of scribblings. Kiravi is many, many wonderful and sometimes tarnished things, but organized and detailed are not some of them. I doubt, honestly, that he will even notice these pages are here.

When he left me at the Pashudia temple, I felt so, so many things. I felt happy and safe, in a way, believing that the priests would be able to give me answers and maybe even heal me. But I was also terrified that they wouldn't have answers or that they would tell me that the gods' curse upon me would only grow worse. Embarrassingly, I was so young and so naive, and I felt a different kind of love for Kiravi then than I do now. I was desperate to hold onto him forever, it felt like, and I was being pulled away from him for the first time since he'd made me scream and moan into the night.

The matron took me into the dim expanse of the temple, and he was gone, and I felt so alone.

"Tell me, child, when did the gods visit you? What do you remember?" The acolyte asked, still leading me by the arm further into the temple.

I took a long moment to answer, my simple upbringing leaving me dazzled by the opulence of the temple. Bronze figurines of men, beasts, and the gods filled dozens of niches in the brick walls, and bronze or copper lamps provided enough light to make the entire temple seem to glow with metallic light. Other acolytes in white or yellow robes knelt in prayer or moved about the vast, pillar-filled room, and I saw a handful of other laypeople being tended to by the priests.

"Less than one moon ago," I murmured to her, "I don't remember much at all. I must've had some kind of dream because I woke up out of breath and sweating, and my eyes had been changed." There was a critical detail that I'd left out and that I hadn't even told Kiravi since I was so embarrassed in my youth.

"It is alright, child. It has been years since an Oracle awakened anywhere near the city, so the head priest will see to you personally," the matron's voice remained warm and comforting but took on a sorrowful edge, "Most emerge in their youth, and most do not survive."

Panic flared in me again, "Am I going to die from this?" My shrill, panicked voice carried farther than I'd intended.

"No, no child." The acolyte shushed me, her voice low, "That would have happened already, and your town would have been completely destroyed."

My mouth grew dry, and the trembling fear I'd managed to suppress returned with a vengeance. We passed more curiously staring acolytes before arriving at a large doorway built along the back edge of the main hall. A heavy curtain, gilded with fine bronze thread, covered the opening.

"What's in there?" I asked, fear flashing in me again.

"Our oldest cleric, closest to the Pashudia." The matron smiled and gently pushed me forward, pulling the curtain to the side.

I stumbled into the next room, which was far dimmer than the main hall. A cool breeze caressed my face, carried through the room by vents cut into the walls near the high ceiling. Only a handful of lamps flickered in the drafty space, revealing a handful of sitting cushions and neat, orderly piles of clay tablets and hide sheets covered in pictographs. I couldn't see much more than that, but my divinely touched eyes could sense that something in the room was manipulating the currents of magic.

"Hello, little one," a voice called from the darkness, speaking in Anghoreti but in an accent that I'd never heard before, "Do not be afraid."

I recoiled from the sound, heart hammering beneath my breast. The voice was harsh, the words clipped and pointed, each one punctuated by a strange clicking sound, "w-who's there?"

Something moved in the gloom, uncoiling from a seated position to stand nearly as tall as the ceiling, taller even than Kiravi. The first thing I saw, other than the shape, was a pair of predatory Golden eyes, massive and unblinking. The rest of the body followed: a massive, hooked beak between and below the eyes, a long neck and narrow shoulders, long and thin arms and legs packed with wiry muscle. I couldn't tell what color its skin was, other than that it was dark, but I could see the long, mottled, feather-like quills that sprouted from the crown of its head, down its spine, and along the backs of its arms.

It was the first Archian I'd ever seen.

"I am Yupanki, Priest to the Pashudia, and I hope that I will be able to help you."

"But, but you're an Archian! The Emperor banished all of you to the east after the Niza revolts," I stammered.

The skin at the edges of Yupanki's beak stretched, and his quills rattled quietly against each other; what I would one day learn was their equivalent of a smile. "Then I suppose it's a good thing I've been cloistered away in this temple for fifty years, yes?"

I sputtered before laughing nervously, my anxious fear and nervousness somehow diffused by this ancient priest's easy nature. "Can, can you help me?"

"I can try, little one. The gods don't answer to us; why would they? But they do listen to the prayers of their devoted servants, and, sometimes, they whisper back to us." He lowered his voice, conspiratorially, "so let us whisper, and see who whispers back, eh?"

I giggled again and nodded slightly, feeling just a little bit better.

The day passed quickly, as far as I could tell, tucked away in the gloom, as Yupanki patiently led me through a series of simple prayers. Of course, I'd prayed to nearly all of the gods before, but never so directly or earnestly. He deftly moved around the small room, lighting little bundles of incense and lamps of sweet-smelling oil with talon-tipped fingers, and then we prayed some more. They started simply: a handful of platitudes to the Pashudia, the bronze-countenanced, stern fathers of mortal life. Requests for acceptance and guidance followed, uttered quietly in the drafty room. All the while, Yupanki coached me how to clear my mind, to allow the Pashudia to, possibly, dispense a vision.

Night fell beyond the temple's walls, a young acolyte brought fried dough and hot tea, and still, we prayed. "I don't feel anything, Yupanki," I said finally, tired and frustrated, wishing Kiravi was always watching over me.

"We must be patient, both you and I, little one," the priest said, blowing air out of the small nostrils in his beak as a human would.

"Why must you be patient, wise one? It's me who can't feel the gods."

Yupanki 'smiled' again, "It has been many, many years since I last communed with an Oracle. I fear that if I push too hard, too fast, I may hurt you, or both of us," he reached across the space and rested his hand on my exposed arm. The scaly skin was surprisingly warm and dry feeling, "But it is late, and I do not want you to fear that there will be no answers for you." His talons closed around my arm, tight enough to begin to feel uncomfortable.