Kiravi's Travelogue Ch. 06

Far more than Atala had, Tebis reminded me of my second home in the great metropolis of Anghu. Each sprawling tenement house looked similar enough to the next to be mistaken as the same, but they were all lopsided and poorly built in slightly different ways. Streets cobbled with broken potsherds and pieces of mud-brick twisted this way and that, linked together by endless webs of alleys where prostitutes worked their trade and cutpurses waited to rob the scribes and merchants rich enough to pay for pleasures of the flesh. Everywhere, and I do mean everywhere, dear readers, sewage and refuse ran in rivulets along and through the streets and alleys, mirroring the web of canals in the fields beyond the city.

Here and there, of course, there were more than just the same heaps of tenements. Smithies belched acrid smoke that tickled the lungs even long after we walked past them and made sure master copper-smiths never lived past forty summers. Tanneries churned their vats of piss, shit, and brains, surrounded by the most impoverished housing. Sawdust and the stink of oils hung around the shops of master carpenters, surrounded by the children of those working inside as they sold scrap wood. And the mud-brick walls echoed with the sound of bone, antler, and stone striking stone as the many flint knappers worked diligently to make tools the same way their people had for countless generations, for those that couldn't afford copper or bronze.

I tried to point some of this out to Leotie and Serina, who remained close by my side even as most of the other pedestrians stumbled aside to make space for me. Of course, I was taller and more muscular than every human and Bhakhuri we saw, and only the hairy Enges we saw here and there could match me for bulk, but I knew it was something else. I pressed our Bhakhuri guide in a roundabout way, none too eager to reveal that I wasn't an 'Old Noble' or whatever nonsense the dockmaster had been spouting, but he just quivered with restrained terror and shrugged his shoulders, pressing on.

We looped through the city back towards the twisting river, climbing the low hill, before the Bhakhuri led us around a final turn and gestured at a massive edifice dominating a bustling square. A hulking, windowless monolith of dark gray stone, each brick a slightly different hue, stood atop the hill looking out over the river and both halves of the city. I checked my step and had to remind myself to breathe after a moment to take it in; only the Academy, the Imperial Palace, and the Ettuku and Pashudia temples in Anghu had been bigger than the temple that stood before us. Large enough to surely hold three or four stories of enormous chambers and certainly strengthened by magic, the temple demanded attention, just as the Ettuku did. Bits of obsidian and mica flakes studded the brick walls, scattering the late morning light even as the bricks tried to swallow it. Heroic figures of magic-shaped obsidian, each of which was surely worth more than my entire family's holdings, studded the edges of the roof, and the doors were crafted from blackened wood studded with some dark metal I'd never seen before.

Serina swallowed nervously beside me, wrapping a hand around my bicep and squeezing. "The..." She worked on composing herself, shut her eyes, and reopened them slowly before continuing. "The Temple of the Ettuku?"

"Yes," the Bhakhuri porter said, in a hurry, "The second largest in the Empire." His eyes widened as if he'd realized he'd said something in error and quickly added, "The largest in the Old Kingdom. By far, the largest."

"The traveling house?" I asked, fixing him with a glare.

"Just down there, my lord," he pointed at one of the streets leading away from the square, "where many of the Old Nobles stay when visiting the temple," he wrung his hands together, looking back and forth. "May I, may I please return, my lord?"

I nodded, but Serina kicked my shin, and I grudgingly handed the poor fellow a few of the chips from the canoe's sale. His eyes widened to take up half his face, and he hustled away. We ambled towards the temple's imposing doors, Serina's slender fingers tightening on my arm and beginning to tremble. No warm-faced, kind-hearted acolytes waited outside the walls this time; we were met only by the dark and imposing walls. In our last few steps, we passed a small dais of worked stone that had once held a statue or shrine of some sort, but the stone had been knocked over and shattered, the pieces of the vaguely humanoid figure strangely left where they'd fallen.

"I suppose it's time for me to leave you again, Kiravi," Serina said, turning to look up at me. Her face was an adorable battle between the mask of stoicism she tried to wear and the young anxiety and fear she couldn't entirely hide. "Promise you won't go 'exploring' again until I'm done?" She asked with a smirk, even though her lip trembled.

"I promise," I said, despite the need to awkwardly swallow the lump in my throat. "We'll either be at the traveling house when you're finished, or you can wait for us there if we're out. As long as it takes."

Her eyes bored into mine, the molten light of her curse swirling in subtle ways I hadn't noticed before, "Kiravi, I..."

The doors swung open from the inside, a face peering out from the surprisingly well-lit interior, "Why are you here? You should know that the waning moons require the ritual and that even the Old Nobles must wait." The voice was stern and dismissive.

Stern and dismissive: two things I didn't much care for, not when I was an oft-forgotten third son, and not at the Academy. And what in the Akagi's Hells were 'Old Nobles'? "I don't come here for myself, priest," I growled the last word, "I'm escorting an Oracle that has awoken east of the Nekoar and is desperately seeking understanding. Does your ritual prevent you from helping her?" I'll admit, dear readers, that I may have laced my words with too much venom, but, gods damn it, I hated the stern and dismissive type, and I hated them dismissing Serina even more.

The priest opened the door wider, stepping forward so half of his body was through the entrance. His robes were as finely stitched as any noble's, and his neck adorned heavily with necklaces of copper and carved stone baubles. Such ostentatious wealth for the priest sent to mind the door spoke of the wild riches within. His eyes settled on Serina, taking her in, all of her, before studying her eyes for a long moment, then another.

"She may enter, but alone. An Oracle is always cause for...concern." He beckoned with a calloused hand, the cotton robes draping from his arm.

"Go on, it will be alright," I reassured her, even though I glared sidelong at the priest, unsure of what lay within.

Serina smiled weakly, looking up into my eyes. Curiously, she glanced over at Leotie, squeezed the huntress' hand. A half-smile flickered between them. "Everything will be fine, Serina," she said, her voice uncharacteristically soothing.

And, with that, Serina took the proffered hand and slipped inside the temple.

The doors thundered shut, leaving us in the growing morning heat and the stirring dust. "Well, shall we go then?" I said, sighing, gaze lingering on the heavy doors. Let the priests have their mysteries, their confusing divine mutterings. I wanted nothing to do with it.

"Are you, we, staying this time?" Leotie asked pointedly. She glared at me, arms crossed in such a way I couldn't help but stare through her glittering breastplate at the treat beneath. She noticed, of course, and snapped her fingers under my chin with a snort. "Are we?"

"Yes, of course," I grumbled, striding back into the square to get my bearings, but unable to stop glancing at the temple. "Why does it matter to you?"

Leotie's face darkened, and Niknik bared his teeth in response. "She may be young and naive, but she's proven to be...useful." She followed as I headed through the square and towards the traveling house, "And she helped me out there, on the river."

"So you don't want to leave her behind so you can have me all to yourself?" I taunted.

"I...I wouldn't do that to her," she spluttered and hit me on the arm.

"It was only a joke," I raised my hands imploringly, but Leotie glowered still, constantly glancing around at the buildings and other pedestrians. Niknik stayed so close he was practically padding along between her legs, "Leotie, what's wrong?"

She glanced at me, grunted, and said nothing else. The street narrowed, and an Enges bumped into her by mistake. For a moment, I thought she was going to draw one of her fine daggers and gut the poor male, but we continued on.

This was clearly the finest part of an already prosperous city, the market stalls teeming with wares I surely couldn't afford and the bricks and walls adorned with delicate murals and mosaics. The traveling house loomed ahead, much like Atala's only twice as large, and I spoke with the head-matron to secure a place for us that night and security for our bulky traveling kit. While not as bad as the dockmaster and porters, the aging Enges woman still tripped over a handful of her words, ensuring that I would be treated with all of the respect an 'Old Noble' was entitled to.

Leotie didn't say a word, staying close behind my bulk and ensuring one of her weapons was always close at hand. Niknik's short tail twitched in annoyance, his hackles bristled. I felt for her, as much as I could understand her discomfort, but her snarl seemed to grow worse by the minute.

Carrying only our weapons and some water, we walked back towards the river along the twisting roads, our destination the palace dominating the river's center. The sun climbed higher, the air grew even hotter and more cloying, and city-dwellers choked the streets. Many saw me and nodded, granting me a wide berth, but in doing so, some brushed up against Leotie. Others sneered at her, mumbling a word that sounded like 'akapi' or 'agasi' under their breath.

The river was soon in sight, but I glanced at Leotie again and saw a woman struggling to maintain control. Sweat ran down her cheeks, her jaw muscles clenched, and her hand constantly fiddled with the bone handles of her knives.

I gently touched her upper arm, pulling her towards the mouth of an alley, "What is it?"

"Leave me alone," she hissed.

"What is wrong?" I pressed, moving closer, standing over her.

"I said," she put her hand on my chest and pushed, but I didn't move, "leave me alone, gods dammit!"

"No," I growled, "Something is bothering you, and if you don't get a hold of yourself, I swear you're going to stab someone and land us in a world of shit. Is it the Kwarzi again?"

She glowered, "Yes, that's part of it. I was able to commune with the river spirits again this morning, but the Kwarzi here in the city are even stranger," she shuddered but continued. "I didn't even think there would be Kwarzi in such a place as this. Too many people, all worshipping the far-off gods. Ignoring the ground beneath their feet and instead tearing it up to build a city that's too big for anyone to...I don't know," she looked up at me, on the verge of tears but snarling at the same time. "How can you call a place like this home, you foolish man? It stinks of shit. Someone is always breathing down your neck or looking over your shoulder. No one is well-fed here, except you damned nobles. I hate it here; I hate that you keep bringing me to these places."

"I suppose you hate me for it, then?" I said softly but with a smile, trying to defuse her smoldering, fearful anger.

"I didn't say that," she hissed.

"How can you track a pudu over bare rock? How can you live your whole life in caves or under hide tents in the open? How can you ignore the great and mighty things that come from the Imperial cities, like the chariot?" She said nothing, "Your life is as foreign to me, Leotie, as this city is to you. This is my life, darling; this is what I'm good at, where I'm comfortable. You showed me a bit of your talent, your skill, on the long walk from Atala. If you let me, if you'll trust me, I can show you a bit of the city. Alright?" Nothing. "Alright?" I repeated, stepping closer, keeping one hand on her upper arm and cupping her chin with the other. She tried to shrug away, turn her head, but I captured her exotic face again.

"Fine," she muttered, her sandstone eyes meeting mine for only a moment. Gods dammit, dear readers, but that woman was gorgeous when she was angry. Still is, come to think of it.

"Good. There's not much to worry about during the day, so you can stop fingering that blade. It's the nights that should concern you in a city like this. An angry huntress could accost you while you're having a piss in an alley, for example."

She smirked and, ever, ever so slightly, pushed her cheek against my large hand, "Or an arrogant brute could have his way with you in that some alley."

My ego and manhood stiffened as one. Maybe my young and selfish desires would be fulfilled, after all?

"Maybe that arrogant brute was invited?"

"Maybe he was." She pulled back, took a breath, wiped the angry tears from the corners of her eyes. "Maybe he'll be invited again?"

I grinned. I just couldn't help it. "It'd still be best if you managed not to stab someone before we can even see the mayor." She nodded curtly but smiled at me, for a moment looking as shy and vulnerable as Serina before the hardened mask returned.

We continued on, down the temple hill, towards the frothing rapids and the clapper bridges. Scraped-off fish scales glittered amongst the cobbles of the roads, and we passed racks of drying fish and boatwrights mending battered canoes and simpler dugouts in equal measure. After some wrong turns and embarrassingly asked questions, we found the right bridge amongst the crammed-together shacks and workshops.

Along the high river's high water mark, or at least where high water would be during wetter, happier times, an old wall of mud-bricks crumbled away in forgotten disrepair. As we clambered down some uneven steps to reach the bridge, I took an opportunity, "Why do you think that wall is there?" I asked Leotie.

She screwed her face up. "Some damn-fool noble built it in the wrong place?"

I laughed, the rich sound carrying far amongst the shacks, "No, no. Cities are always growing, huntress, you'll learn that."

"Unless they get sacked."

"Well, that's true. But cities usually grow, and that wall shows that Tebis was once only on this side of the river," I pointed across the river at the palace and the shoddy buildings on the far bank. "All of that must be new."

"How interesting," she grumbled.

I chuckled, "You wanted to know how cities work."

Any further bickering was halted by a pair of guards at the end of the clapper bridge. Strangely for this city, both were Bhakhuri and armored much more lavishly than even most of Anghu's city guard. Thickly quilted cotton, dyed a rich yellow-orange, covered their limbs and torsos, complete with breastplates of boiled camel hide covered with irregular but similar copper plates. Their shields were long and broad, wooden planks with hides stretched over them and carefully painted with an abstract humanoid figure wreathed in flame. Spears with broad, expensive bronze tips were soon leveled at us.

"Why does one such as you wish to enter the Mayor's palace?" One asked.

In only half a day, I'd gathered that something very odd was simmering below the surface in the capital of old Seleyo. And, in that time, I'd already grown tired of it. I merely wanted to relay the tale of Sata's treachery, find the local Academy, and collect Serina before going on my way. Wherever, I thought, I decided my way would go. But that was a decision best put off for later.

"I decided to go with the most shocking response possible. "A matter of treason."

The guards stiffened, glanced at each other, "An accusation?"

"No," I drew myself up slightly, a head taller than both of them, "No need for an accusation. I already handled the traitor. We merely need to make a report to the Mayor."

"And who was the traitor? If it was some farmer or merchant nobody, the Mayor need not be bothered."

I glared at the guard doing all of the talking, "It was a Mayor."

Nervous glances were passed, awkward lumps swallowed, and we departed onto the bridge without any more issues.

Impressive, modern, and sleek, the palace's walls were built right up to the highwater mark, each mud-brick uniform and dyed the same ochre-red. The walls followed the rocky edges of the island perfectly, the bridge leading to a corbelled arch of slightly offset stones guarded by a larger knot of soldiers. We passed through them with fewer issues, the palace itself sprawling in front of us. The brick was capped with polished stone that glowed in the high sun, each wing arcing away from the next, dozens of slit-like windows and wide doors leading into the shadowed interior. Guards and servants moved about the open space between the wall and palace, tending to llamas, camels, and boisterous clusters of chickens. Cooking smoke and more exotic smells swirled in the artificial air currents created by the river and the walls. Finely robed scribes approached us as we lingered in the space, hustling quickly enough to send little spurts of dust up from their bare feet.

I paused, halted mid-stride, even though I wanted nothing more than to conclude this business and possibly get this beautiful half-Bhakhuri woman horizontal in the traveling house. Somehow, some of those strange smells were suddenly familiar, and a feeling in my gut that I'd barely even noticed immediately made sense. "Leotie, I don't think this is the palace."

"What?! What else could it be?" The nervousness she'd barely managed to suppress resurfaced all at once.

The scribes interrupted me before I could answer. "Welcome, Master and Mistress, to the Palace of the Mayor of Tebis, Governor of all Seleyo on behalf of the great and powerful Emperor, and also the Great Academy of the Grand Alchemist of all Anghoret, master of physical magic and Eldritch Power. What brings an Old Noble to our grounds this day?"

My nerves finally snapped as I realized the Mayor's palace and Academy here were, somehow, exactly the same place. "Please, tell me, what in the Chaos Wastes is an Old Noble?"

* * * * *

Here, again, to use Kiravi's words -- dear readers -- I snuck more of my pages into Kiravi's sprawling, sometimes nonsensical record. Still, I doubt he's noticed any sort of addition to his words, especially since he's asked me and several others of our strange band to distribute his stories out into the world. I love the man, I really do, but he, like me, is not perfect.

I tried my best to quell my nerves as I slipped inside the dark-walled but brightly lit temple with the seemingly annoyed priest. My hands clutched the staff my Kiravi had torn from Sata's dead hands and given to me. I could feel the energy swirling in this place, readers, not just from the many priests who lived and labored there but also from something else. A spell was being cast somewhere, somewhere close, and I could see the wispy threads of magic all being drawn towards it with my changed eyes.

The priest stopped me in an antechamber just beyond the door as it swung shut and turned to me. "Tell me, Oracle, how long has it been since you awoke?" His face was impassive beneath the hood of his robe, rugged and sharp-featured.

I thought to myself for a moment. So much had changed since my goddess came to me; I'd lived an entirely new life with her and Kiravi. "Almost one month," I replied. Only a month.

He nodded, "The law-scrolls of the Temple say you should be safe, then. You must have some level of control over your magic, yes?" He began to circle around me, not waiting for a response, and I stood as tall and firm as I could: like I imagined Kiravi would. "Have you been examined by anyone else yet?"