Machine Spirit (Working Title)

[Shuuda]

This is something I've been working on for a little while now since the start of May, and I already have a large body of it written up in rough (around fifteen chapters so far of a planned twenty). I feel now might be a good time to start posting bits and making it open for criticism. I won't be posting it all at once, but I'll post a new chapter once I've given it a read over and given some intil changes. I sincerely hope that you enjoy this new work from me.

The feedback thread can be found here: http://serenesforest.net/forums/index.php?showtopic=35427&pid=2159496&st=0entry2159496

Chapter One

The sickle blade fell onto the workbench with a dull thud. “You can’t expect me to work with such shoddy tools,” said the middle aged man, crossing his arms.

Blood rushed to Ganjin’s face. He bit his lip and scowled.

“I don’t see anything wrong with it,” he said, battling to keep himself from yelling. He picked up the blade with both hands. It was the one he had completed for the Elder a week ago. “It’s just like all the others, Brecka Jan. If you ask me I think you’re just trying to stab the box.”

Brecka Jan stepped back and glared furiously at the smith. His once crossed arms where now spread out, which in the Faihn code of Hakuyankh was inviting of a challenge. They both knew the unbreakable and honourable laws were guiding them to a solid conclusion.

Ganjin squinted and gave him a hard, manly face. “We could always make you a new one if you’re so unhappy. Of course, we’ll be charging again.”

“Charge!? Why don’t you give to me for free instead?”

Ganjin recoiled. Mucus arose in his throat from the sound of the dirty F word. It was right up there with a certain D word. He looked over his shoulder. From the house beside the forge came an old, willowy woman. She graced them both with a heartfelt smile.

“Mother, there’s no need to concern yourself with this cheapskate.” His mother covered her mouth with her hand, which was shrouded by a draping, purple sleeve. She stepped outside and straightened up the red and orange curtain covering the doorway.

“I must side with my son, Elder Brecka Jan. There will be no free rides on our watch. Unless you wish to buy another we will bid our blessings.”

Ganjin adamantly nodded. Brecka Jan snarled and then marched around the counter. He brushed Ganjin aside and approached his mother. In front of her he crossed his arms again.

“Sanabe, just how do you expect me to harvest with such poor blades? Perhaps I should spread the word of your lapse in quality.”

Ganjin slammed the blade against the workbench. “Over my dead body!” he shouted. “Everyone here knows you’re just cheap. You could afford a thousand of these.” He dragged the Elder out from under the shady roof into the hot sun shining on the street running down the middle of their village.

The other villagers did not even pass a second glance at the ruckus at the forge, or any of the other bellows of anger in the village.

“You insolent little—“ Brecka Jan took a deep breath. “I don’t have to listen to this from the likes of you. Why don’t we settle this?” It was a challenge to a duel, the traditional way loraken solved their problems, the sure way to end a conflict.

Ganjin was confident. His eyes ran up and down the old farmer’s frame, his wrinkled face and hunching posture, which were clear signs that he was well past his fighting prime. He smirked as he walked away from his family home and into the street.

“Honourably accepted, Elder.” A small gathering took interest in the upcoming fight. Old women peeled away the stripped linen of their doorways and watched with amusement. It was unlikely to be the first duel they had witnessed that day, but the stakes were a bit higher than usual on this one.

Ganjin tensed his muscles and kept his arms down his sides. In the form of duelling known as Ketari hands were strictly forbidden. It was all in their heads and their feet.

Brecka Jan approached first, bending his head forwards so that his horns were at the forefront. He uttered with his dry lips a faint declaration to the spirits of the Yokaanpu fields.

Ganjin copied, locking his horns with the opponent. Brecka Jan twitched his thick moustache as he grinned devilishly.

“If I win, you pay me back. If you win, I’ll double the money on the next one.”

Ganjin narrowed his eyes. The thought of stripping his purse clean was enticing. But Brecka Jan did not become the wealthiest farmer – most favoured by the spirits of the Yokaanpu fields – their side of the mogor by losing.

Brecka Jan pushed to the right.

Ganjin pushed the opposite way. His feet shuffled across the dirt, never lifting. Brecka Jan pressed forwards, putting him off balance.

He dug his heels and returned the force. He felt Brecka Jan’s legs shake and the heat from his brow. He pushed harder against Brecka Jan’s horns, feeling his knees starting to bend. Now was the time to beat him down, he thought.

The soil trembled, and the air was filled with the clash of stone.

Ganjin cocked his brow. Brecka Jan thrust himself up and pushed the smith until he toppled, smacking his chin against the ground.

He winched, rubbing his bleeding face with his sleeve. The entire front of his body was being rocked. He looked up at the mountain of Yokaanmogor that towering over the village and the forests. Everyone watched it. Even Brecka Jan became engrossed in the shifting of earth. A cloud of dust was rising up from the other side.

Ganjin’s gaze caught sight of the sliding rocks halfway up the slopes. He rose to his feet and began backing away from the crowd.

“Hold on, boy!” called Brecka Jan, spinning around and pointing squarely at the smith. Ganjin clenched his teeth, and then turned to face the victor.

“I don’t have to pay anything. That damn thing caught me off guard.”

“I felt it too, boy. It was still a fair contest. So behave yourself and bring my money back.”

Ganjin’s face boiled again. The crowd joined Brecka Jan in staring down the smith.

He forced a smile. By the honour of his family and patron spirits of the forge who would judge him stricter than anyone else he had no choice but to pay up. The look of disappointment on his mother’s face stabbed him through the chest.

“Very well, Elder.” His mother had gone inside and returned with a wooden box wrapped in her sleeves. She placed it on the table and opened the lid. Scattered inside were flat, coppery liun coins with holes in the middle.

Ganjin picked out five pieces. He held them in his palm and stared at them. It was precious currency he and his mother broke their backs for over the hot forge. Brecka Jan beckoned to him. He handed them over, his throat suddenly drying up. His mother rolled her right sleeve and took out three more pieces.

“Of course, allow us to add to our payment for our apology,” she said.

Ganjin’s stomach ached over such a repulsive sight, though it was a necessary one to stay on the Elder’s good side.

The mountain shook again. The air in the village was becalmed as everyone gave the sacred peak reverence. Ganjin had never seen such fury from the mountain. The spirits were certainly in an uproar over something, but nothing exciting had happened in Yokaanpu at this time of year. Not until the next festival at least. When the mountain calmed everyone returned to their business nervously.

Ganjin peeked into the box before his mother could close it. There were only a few coins left.

“Worry not,” said Sanabe, acting hopefully. “We’ve got plenty of orders for the festival.”

~

Their family home had always been too large for the pair of them. Nine tenths were always dusty no matter how hard they cleaned. Most people likely assumed Ganjin and Sanabe that sold off the rest of their family. As far as Ganjin knew however, it had always been him and his mother.

He knelt before the family shrine with bowl of meat stew in his lap. A hard day’s work usually helped him relish supper, but the feeling between him and his mother was dank.

Sanabe ripped off a portion of her meat and placed it in the offering bowl before the hearth shrine. She poured in fine powder and began striking a piece of flint over the mixture until a tiny flame had formed in the bowl.

Ganjin picked off a piece of his supper and tossed into the bowl. When the offering of food was brightly lit he began picking at his meal with his fingers. The chunks of meat were soft, but the taste was overpowered by the coal dust on his hands.

“You don’t think we’ve been abandoned,” he said, staring at the old sword that was the idol of their family shrine. It was impossible to think that they could have lost Konaalahsung’s favour, but their coffer was empty in spite of their continued devotion to mighty spirit of metal craft.

His heart sank at the thought of what would become of them if the Beginning of Escehi festival was a flop. Even ploughing Brecka Jan into the earth would not have lifted their hopes for long. The annual festival of Hajit Sohe Degnibra1 was certain to bring customers. Loraken from the cities visited rural shrines to pay their respects to the farmers and their ancestral roots. Most importantly they brought their money with them. That would keep them afloat and help fund the harvesting festival of Turru Jacka and then another festival after that to pay more tribute to the hard working farmers. Without that festival the two of them would be on the streets. “Whatever’s got those spirits whining better quit it soon.”

“I’ll be giving Haren Daar a visit. He’s got to do something about them.”

Ganjin rolled his eyes. Haren Daar was likely to be loopier over the rumbles than anyone. He never stopped preaching the importance of appeasing the spirits.

“Allow me, mother,” he said, swallowing a large chunk. “We need you to keep working the forge.” He glanced at his mother. Her hair was as grey as her horns, and they were chipped and scratched all over. The woods surrounding the temple were not always safe, especially with vengeful spirits abound.

“Haren Daar doesn’t approve of you I don’t think.”

Ganjin’s mouth gaped open. “Told me you’ve been going out of season with Nilan.” Sanabe shot him a wary look.

He choked on a loose bit of fat. There was no chance of that ever happening. No way could he convince a normal woman like Nilan to indulge strange twilight activities.

“That’s nonsense,” he said. The Elder Shaman Haren Daar always seemed welcoming as anyone else. “Even so, Enkhaa’s always there to help. I’ll just peek in casually and ask them what by Hajni they’re doing.”

“Perhaps you could give it a more cautious approach.” Sanabe smiled warmly. “Haren Daar’s jumpy at the best of times.” The both of them chuckled. “He’ll be spinning on his horns if Yokaanmogor bellows again.”

“He best have his ears cleaned when I get there.”

~

“Floundering festives!” shouted the haggard, old man, whacking his staff on the floorboards. He paced around the colourful temple shrine.

Enkhaa shuffled away and pretended to be busy straightening out the golden drapes. The last thing she wanted was to get swept up in his ravings. She glanced over her shoulder every couple of seconds.

Haren Daar was confronted by two of his other students, young women in green kaftans wrapped with black sashes. He was distinguished by his trailing coat, many sizes too large for him, adorned with trinkets and lively fabrics. “Get out of my way! Remember your places, wretched traitors!”

Enkhaa shuffled again so that she was standing out of his view. Haren Daar spun on his heel, his coat whirling around.

“Enkhaa, don’t just stand there!” She felt a jolt up her spine. She clenched the drapes and sighed.

“What would you have me do, Elder Shaman?” she asked, in a polite voice.

“Prepare provisions. We’re heading on a pilgrimage. The shrines of Yokaanmogor must be tended to if this curse is to end.” Enkhaa shrugged, keeping her face as stiff as board.

“All one hundred of them, Elder? Isn’t there someone else? The horoha of our ancestors need to be finished today. What about Nilan?”

“The children are in her care for the day. Perhaps you’d like to take her place.”

Enkhaa winched, since playing teacher for the little rodents sounded like a worse fate. Though, with the shaking on the mogor it surprised her anyone would still send their children to the temple. She began rummaging for the others. “And yes, Temaaj, Yujinaar, and Ereda are all busy too. So you spare me the list. Now obey!” Haren Daar stomped, and the other woman gasped.

Enkhaa fell on both knees and lowered her head. “Yes, Elder. Forgive me.” She heard his fuming breath calm. She pulled her head up and relaxed when she saw his crossed arms. Such a pose was a safe sign in their code.

“Rise.” Enkhaa rose as quickly as she had fallen. “Bring herbs, bread, and water… whatever else you think we might need.”

Enkhaa walked to the entrance, which was covered by wide, red and gold curtains. A knife, she thought.

“And horoha! Mine are all rotten now!” shouted Haren Daar. “Make a fresh batch before we go.”

Enkhaa frowned viciously. A blunt knife, she thought.

“Please stop doing that,” said a soft voice outside.

Enkhaa looked ahead and lessened her glower. Her sister, Nilan had a long, stout table laid in the temple yard littered with the grubby scrolls and paintings used to teach the village children. “The Elder sounded most angry.”

“The spirits of mental desolation have finally visited him. I cannot speak now.”

She went to a small building attached to the side of the shrine. She stepped on the wooden walkway around a pit of soil that basked in the open roof. The pit smelt of decay, but Enkhaa was not repelled.

She rolled her sleeves and reached into the pit. She rooted around until her fingers felt something hard and smooth. She yanked out a pair of detached horns which were rotting. She took them to the opposite side of the room where there was a table with piles of wooden objects similar to sword handles.

“Enkhaa! Have you got the rope yet!?” yelled Haren Daar, staggering into the room. “We need rope!”

“No, Elder, I’ll get one now.” Enkhaa tossed the rotted horns on the table. “Is there anything else?” Haren Daar shook his head.

Enkhaa huffed, certain that he would think of something. It would be unwise to ask him how long the rope should be, or where one could be found. All manner of frivolous and fantastic things could be found in a Faihn temple, but never anything useful.

~

Ganjin emerged though the forest of tall stalks, following the path that led to the stone steps. The stairs were flanked by rough slabs. He blinked as the rays of sunlight burst through the canopy onto his face. The road led to the clearing of the temple gardens, where people were nursing a rainbow of flowers and trees.

Before he could take another step further he had to pray at the altar beside the entrance. Hanging off the poles flanking the font was a banner in devotion to temple's master, Sonacyahne2, the wise Geshunfaii. It was the time honoured tale of his cunning defeat of the evil mogor spirit, Yokaan, towering proudly as the beast is being cast into the depths of the mogor.

Temples were said be tranquil in stories, but today it was busy with the hammering of wood as muscle bound men were fixing up the walls of a new building. Preparations were slowly being made for the Hajit Sohe Degnibra. Every building was draped with linen scrolls full of art forest and agricultural spirits. A gathering of children sang in unison, drowning out the world outside.

So merry and upbeat that he began to hum along as he approached. The rhythm was one Ganjin was very familiar with. It was a song to warn children about the Red Raja disease.

“Nilan!” he yelled, waving to the teacher. The children’s song tumbled to a stop as they saw him.

“Good morning, Elder Ganjin!” they yelled, like he was the new teacher.

“Enkhaa’s a little busy now, Ganjin. The Elder’s going on a trip,” said Nilan.

“Fantastic,” he said. Hopefully this mean he would have to motivate her himself. “I’ll leave you to the precious ones.” He strode around the kneeling children and made his way to the main shrine of the temple.

Beyond the luxurious curtains he was greeted by the sight of an inventory spread across the floorboards. Enkhaa weaved between them, inspecting each item. Ganjin felt the dreary air radiate from her eternal face of boredom. She bumped into the shrine’s idol, a statue of a Sonacyahne sitting in a chair, bearing a scroll that fell across his lap.

Ganjin sniggered. Enkhaa and Haren Daar darted their eyes at him.

“I don’t remember asking anything of you or Sanabe. Now leave!”

He had to be careful of what he said next. A man low down on the food chain could land himself in hot water by speaking ill of the Head Shaman. At the same time, his role as an Elder demanded strength. “Why, looks like you’re the ones about to leave. I hope you’re on your way to solve this problem.”

“Blasted balle Konaa-meji! Have decency!” Haren Daar kicked a jug across the room.

“Of course, Elder. I was just curious.”

“Well, be curious no more!” Haren Daar turned to Enkhaa. “Get this stuff packed, now.” The student shaman began gathering the bits and bobs and tied them together.

Ganjin knelt down and reached for closest things. He hated being idle, and he always felt his hands should be busy with something. It could be metal, a spear, a woman, anything. “Since you’re making yourself useful, what did you want?” asked Haren Daar.

“I came to make sure you were planning on dealing with this mess.”

“Pah… rotten Konaa-meji! Everyone else knows to trust us.” Haren Daar sneered. “In fact, the only place Enkhaa and I are leaving to is the mogor.”

“Just the two of you?” asked Ganjin, putting on a concerned voice. He knew now that their trip was to all the wayshrines to plead with the angry spirits. “I don’t think you should be going. At least, not alone.”

“Did your tongue get replaced by a snake’s, Ganjin? Speak up.”

“What I mean is if you were to be wounded, or worse, who would lead the festivals? You’re simply too vital to our village. It’d be a great loss for Yokaanpu if you were killed. Best you let someone fit do the job in your stead.”

“I have Enkhaa for that.”

“Someone loyal.”

“Enkhaa.”

“Someone with motivation.” Haren Daar froze. Ganjin had him lined for the kill, now he had to thrust deeper. “Great and wise Elder Haren Daar, I wish to pay my devotion to the spirits, and our ancestors by aiding your cause—“

“For a price,” said Enkhaa, still scurrying on her knees.

“What’s that, child?” asked Haren Daar.

“Ganjin will help, but he doesn’t wish to pay anything. Rather, he wishes to be paid. I remember giving him a spare liun to eat a bug.”

Ganjin shrank at being ousted so soon. That incident that been good value as he remembered things. It was true he planned on getting some change off his generosity, but it was fair pay for fair work as he saw it.

“I just want to make sure nothing happens that would make you cancel our precious festival. My mother and I will be ruined if these ruptures go on. A man’s got to take an interest in his wealth you know.”

“Now that I think about it, Elder, Ganjin might be useful,” said Enkhaa.

Ganjin nodded and smiled sheepishly. “The beasts might be feral with all this sudden movement. I think he should take your place.”

“You’re conspiring with this mercenary rat!?”

“He goes on hunts regularly. Think of him as a guard. Of course, we won’t be paying him even a single scrap.”

Ganjin slumped. “If you say so,” he said. The idea of giving his arm for free left a foul taste in his mouth, but he kept the bigger picture in mind. Haren Daar was silent with his arms crossed and eyes shut.

“I’ll be counting on you, Enkhaa. If I catch even the faintest sink of slacking the punishment will be grave.” Haren Daar grabbed both his horns tightly.

Ganjin broke into a sweat, as now he had clear image of what he would do to the pair if they returned in shame. “Since you so generously relieved me of the task, I’ll be tending the flowers. And Ganjin… make sure she does things properly.” Haren Daar left the pair. His bombastic ranting could still be heard as his Nilan became his next target.

Ganjin returned to gathering the inventory until it was all packed in two sacks. He tried to lift one of them, but it was too heavy. “What’s the plan?”

“The Elder asked me to gather and pack them, that was it. We’re leaving them,” said Enkhaa, “Most of it at least.” She began separating the food from the junk.

Ganjin chuckled. Among the rubble he spotted a sword, one that had been made by his mother. He could tell by its serrated back edge and the etching just above the hilt. He yanked it out and placed it in his sash. It had probably been given to the temple as gift, but he was sure they would not mind him borrowing it. What was given for free could be taken back for free as far he cared.

Enkhaa also placed her equipment in her sash, a pair of wands that were made from the horns of ancestors, the horoha. Their silky tags dangled to her knees. “I’ll lead the way.”

They carried their supplies over shoulder and past the curtain threshold. Haren Daar was waggling his finger at Nilan, the children were giggling. Enkhaa walked on by without even acknowledging the commotion. As they near the steps Haren Daar shouted. “Be wary of the spirits! Don’t turn your back for a second!”

~

Ganjin ran well ahead of Enkhaa. She turned sour faced. “Stop doing that,” she said, in her dull voice. She looked out over the trail, seeing the temple and village below.

“There’re a hundred shrines up here. No time for reed floating,” said Ganjin, shaking his fist with vigour. He darted further up the path with typical loraken gusto.

Enkhaa welled up with prickly frustration. What most people hated about Ganjin was his obsession with coinage, but it was his workaholic attitude that flayed her nerves. The smith hopped back and patted her on the shoulder.

They continued along the rough path to the first wayshrine. A winged serpent swept down before their eyes, scooping a vole in its maw with a hiss. Ganjin gave a clap for a fine kill.

Enkhaa rolled her eyes. “Just keep a look out. Spirits of trickery take many shapes.”

As they navigated around a tall boulder they were greeted by a pile of wood and rubble.

Enkhaa's body felt hollow for a moment. Her jaw clenched as she leaned over the wreckage. Ganjin shifted a plank with his foot, revealing shards of smooth stone. It had once been an idol crafted by fingers of the faithful, and respected by those who took pilgrimages up the mogor.

“This is urgent,” said Enkhaa, picking up a large shard. In Faihn, there was no greater crime that vandalising a shrine no matter how small and isolated. The spirits of the mogor concocted terrible retribution for meddlers, often involving snapped horns and the insertion of hot iron rods.

She sought out the bowl of the shrine and began piling in herbs and spices as an offering of apology to the spirits that rested in the area. With two pieces of flint she tried to light a little fire in the middle. Despite her frenzied actions she was only doing what was absolutely necessary and nothing more.

“Looks pretty bad,” said Ganjin, gathering more shards. “Knowing our luck, every shrine here could’ve been wrecked.” Or rather the rumbling was being caused because a shrine had been ruined. That was the vision in Enkhaa’s mind.

The clamour the many feet approached from further along the path.

Enkhaa twisted her head, still lurching over the flaming bowl. A group of no more than six were before them, with one strutting at the helm. All of them were holding umbrella’s despite the fact it was a blisteringly sunny day. They were hornless with snow white skin.

Enkhaa’s face contorted at the sight of the rocks many were carrying.

“Is something on your mind, Miss?” asked the leader, tipping his grey hat.

Enkhaa rose and crossed her arms, hiding her hands in her sleeves.

“This mogor is sacred ground. You can’t just take stones as you please.” The man looked up at her with a vacant face. He gave a cocksure smile, but no answer.

Enkhaa blushed and flashed her teeth. His man was trying to making a monkey out of her. “Are you deaf?”

“Not at all, Miss,” he replied, in a smooth voice.

“What are you wily Wights up to?” asked Ganjin. The mention that word rotated cogs in her brain. Wights had no concept of sacred which was why they spent their empty lives hiding from the light.

“In this world we can only speak on our own behalf, and even that is illusionary at best. This is even more so you, who have the intellects of wild beasts. However, to put it ona level that you can understand I’m an envoy of the Dame of the Mountain. So while I wish to be polite, I shall speak for her by saying that the law does not look too fondly one those who disrupt the work of scholars and respected civil servants.”

“Which mountain?” asked Ganjin.

“This place of course. Mount Fran.”

Enkhaa glanced to her partner, and he looked back. She knew not to trust the word of a heathen who revered nothing. The very act of misnaming the mountain was insulting enough.

“Yokaanmogor, you mean?” asked Ganjin.

“That would be the one. The Dame entrusted me to investigate the mountain’s… recent behaviour.”

Enkhaa was frustrated by their intrusion. “What would heathens know about it?” she asked.

The Wight nodded politely. “I know there’s nothing for your kind to worry about. Her Ladyship takes great care of her property. Go home and please remain calm.”

“You should allow us to handle this. Wights can reason with spirits like seals reason with sharks.” The white skinned man began to walk away, taking his team of timid men with him.

Enkhaa took a deep breath, resolving not to be manipulated. Ganjin stormed towards the group, shoving them out of the way until he had the leader by the collar. Why be controlled when there is someone else who can take your place?

The leader was unfazed, leering even. Ganjin toss him to the ground, his umbrella rolling across the dirt. His servants crowded around to shade him from the sun.

Enkhaa could not resist the little laughter under her breath. The leader got up and bid his servants to back away. He took off his hat, leaving himself at the mercy of the hot midday sun.

“It would appear that I’m utterly exposed. Will you be bullying me some more, boy?” Ganjin overshadowed him with a grin of satisfaction.

“You heard my friend, this mogor is sacred. Give our rocks back or you’ll be leaving black and blue.”

“Sacred or not – whatever such a thing means – every rock and animal on his mountain is lawful the property of Her Ladyship Dame Horowit. She’ll do as she pleases with it. In these times in which she engages with delicate operations we ask only for cooperation from our surface dwelling neighbours.” The leader stuttered and flinched from the sun. Despite his strong face, Enkhaa could see the discomfort in his blue eyes.

“Oper- what now?”

“It means they’re up to something, Ganjin.”

“Oh. Well what are you up to?”

“Nothing you need to know of,” said the leader, donning his hat.

“Has that answer ever evaded suspicion?” asked Enkhaa.

“I wasn’t trying to evade anything. Superstition and suspicion are dearest bedfellows. Now, if you’re done interfering with our ordained task we shall take our leave.” He picked up his umbrella and hoisted it over his head. He took a whiff of the fresh air and bid farewell to the loraken. He returned to the front of the pack and descended the path.

“That little feckless dog!” Ganjin kicked up a cloud of dust.

“Let him go,” said Enkhaa, yawning lightly.

“Those Wights, why can’t they just stay underground where they belong? Heck, if he thinks he owns this mogor then maybe he should pay for all these shrines.”

Enkhaa covered her mouth with end of her sleeve.

“That’s not a bad idea.” Why should she have to spend time fixing this mess? If the Wights were serious about ownership, then the responsibility falls on their shoulders. “I’d guess this Dame Horowit will have to sort it out herself.”

“If we beat her in a duel she’ll have no choice.”

~

“Sir Aaberl, are you sure you don’t need to rest?” asked a short man, stroking his beard. “That tall bloke really roughed you up.”

Klein Aaberl dusted down his suit with one hand, smiling. The encounter had no impact on him. Children and animals always required extra tolerance after all. His servants looked around nervously. He chuckled.

“You’ll never serve well if a few locals have you shaking like Mount Fran,” he said. He then heard someone else muttering.

“They didn’t seem such idiots to me. I don’t think Sir Aaberl was wise.” His keen ears picked it up without interruption. The young scholar froze when his eyes met with Klein’s. The whole group was silenced.

Klein felt no ill, but the timid look on his accusers face was amusing. He sweated and choked on his words. “Forgive me, Sir Aaberl.”

“Let’s hope you’re a little more cautious when it comes to handing our report.”

“Indeed,” said an elderly member of the party. “A most stern report must be given to the Dame. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes. He’ll be most pleased that operations can continue.” The scholars turned to each other with unease. “A problem?”

“Sir Aaberl, surely we’re not to suggest this can just continue. We were almost killed up here, and not just by those beasts. The mountain will be too ravaged at this rate and unfit for constructing on, as the Dame wishes. Let’s not forget what would happened if Yokaanpu is damaged. We’d be seen as attacking foreign land.” The scholars began nodding among themselves.

Klein’s heart sank. He continued to pose a calm front. He could understand their sudden desire to compromise as the locals could be very intimidating, but his work was too revolutionary to halt over a few lunatics and their threats.

“That’s a shame, but you’re right. Nothing is more important than facts, no matter how disappointed Her Ladyship might be. Let’s hope her mood is fair upon our return.” He saw the fearful faces of his servants.

He felt a sense of satisfaction. “Perish the thoughts, my friends. Her Ladyship can be generous and tender when the time calls for it.” He spoke in a tone that was laced with uncertainties and futile optimism. Knobbly knees and gulps of despair washed over the scholars. Klein felt the dread emitting from all but one of them.

“And of course she’s most rational,” said the elder scholar. His contemporaries gave approving hums. Their expressions livened up. Despite whatever reputation she had, The Dame was not known for shooting messengers. “We’re most grateful, Sir Aaberl, for reminding us of the Dame’s genius.”

The younger scholars cheered. “We’ll return at once and finish our report.” There was a second huzzah as they thrust their umbrella’s up.

Klein only smiled and nodded. Their devotion and enthusiasm was inspiring, but he was in no need of inspiration. He was in need of cooperation.

~

Supper was meat stew with a leek. Ganjin knelt beside his mother in usual venue of the hearth shrine. “Those Wights are a shifty bunch,” said Sanabe, swallowing another spoonful.

“Trust me, those hornless toads know something. Enkhaa explained it to me. They own the mogor, so it’s them who’ve been angering the spirits, not us.” It made perfect sense to him. His mother nodded. “So I’m going to tell this Salbrin woman to quit it. The city isn’t far.” The Wights lived in an underground realm below the mountain, which was why they owned it. It was like a roof of a house apparently.

“I can’t imagine they’d stop you. I hear they let our kind in. But there’re a good reasons we never see much of them. There’s no light down under. It’s no wonder they’re so creepy… must get to them all.”

Ganjin took a slurp. It was the typical way his mother tried to warn him against taking a risk. “They might be creeps, but they might also be paying creeps,” he said, mouth half full. “I don’t know why we never thought of it. A Dame sounds important, so they’ve gotta be rich. Think of it as me setting up a merchant’s wagon.” He put on a devilish grin, like he was plotting a grand scheme.

“Oh Ganjin, their doors won’t even be your height. There’s nothing else you can about it. You just have to be more careful next time.”

Ganjin was suddenly awash with guilt. He leaned back, glancing around the large, empty room. The sickle Brecka Jan returned was one made by himself. Losing the duel had not only cost money but also his mother’s good name. The shaming of his family demanded repayment, it was the code. He took a slow bite of his leek and swirled around his mouth as he pondered.

“I’ll just have to bend over then.” His mother hit him over the back of the head. He sprayed out stew, and then returned the blow, though with a lighter hand. There was no foul intent. It was just how they caught each other’s attention.

“I can’t prepare for the festivals alone. We’ll be without even scraps to eat,” she said, rubbing the back of her head.

“There won’t be one if we’re living under rubble,” his voice rung with desperation. His mother went silent, covering her mouth with her sleeve again. Ganjin returned to supper.

“Well, I can’t stop you. But you better talk it over with the other Elders.”

Ganjin almost swallowed his spoon. It was true this mother could not sway him, he was stronger and a man. However, the other Elders could beat him into submission if they were against him, which they usually were. They didn’t become old by losing, as they saying went. A young Elder like himself was just too paradoxical to be taken seriously.

“Of course I will. They’ll think it’s a brilliant idea!” He leapt up with his bowl, his spine rigid from the thought of confronting each of them the next day.

Edited March 14, 2013 by Shuuda

[Shuuda]

Chapter Two

The meeting of councilmen and ambassadors would never start until an acceptable amount of tea had been prepared and poured into their silver cups. Ganbold Karn had come to like the taste. He grinned as he looked over the long table. Seeing so many people from the far corners of the world inspired him each time he saw it. It made him just for a moment believe that peace was more than just a pipe dream.

After Dame Salbrin Horowit – sitting just right of him – took the first sip he joined the council in a drink. Well-dressed men began exchanging pleasantries which soon turned into heated debates on rising the age of when one can become a minor miner.

Ganbold watched Salbrin as she stirred her tea with a silver spoon. He felt an aura of concentration, like she was engrossed in matters very distant from the meeting of lords and ladies. This was far from uncommon since she had taken the reins of the city.

He tapped his fingers against the table. She glared at him, but he knew not to be offended by her grim countenance.

“Salbrin, do have you a moment?” he asked, seeing the displeased faces of the other councillors in the corner of his eye. The fact Salbrin sat the ambassadors closest to her did not sit comfortably with many of them.

“For you, yes.” Her expression was unmoving.

Ganbold smiled back. “I was hoping you had given more thought about the golem. You’ve been running him non-stop for months after all. Surely such a beast needs taking care of.” She took a slow sip of her tea.

He waited patiently for her answer to finally arrive.

“I’m expecting Sir Aaberl’s return soon. I trust his report will put an end to your concerns. Until then I will continue as planned.”

Ganbold shrugged and took a sip. He slouched against the table, putting both elbows on the surfaces and resting his chin in his palms. A scroll was slid in his direction as it journeyed around the table. The hand still on it was that of the Administrator from Tarmant, Felitr Xarx-what’s-his-name, who like Ganbold and several others was an oddity at the table of wights.

He glanced at the scroll with boredom. Apparently one of the councillors wanted to use Salbrin’s golem in the city new mines, and given the number of signatures many agreed with him. Two of them were scrawled with angular letters with wavy lines drawn through them. Those were the names of two ambassadors from the distant land of Dxaith, distinguished by their floppy, hairy ears and short stature. Ypre and Ceseth – their lesser tongue names – were sat looking at each other. They appeared silent, but were actually speaking in their highly advanced language. So advanced they claim, that a simpleton like Ganbold could never grasp it.

Salbrin rolled up the scroll and shook her head drawing a collective groan from almost everyone else.

“Dame, why do you constantly reject the uses of your lestungheige1? The golem could do the work of every miner in the city for a fraction of the cost.”

“Would be good for steel production,” said Ypre, speaking with a slow, staggered pace as he was dumbing down for everyone else.

Ganbold endure his patronising speech. It was suddenly no surprise they wanted this. Dxaith had been increasing trade over the past few years. Apparently people who lived underground and spent their time mining were required to make good steel.

Salbrin took her sweet time in giving an answer. “If the commoner’s aren’t working, then they’re rebelling,” she said. “Ragulir2 does not serve for profits.”

“That’s right,” added Ganbold. “Besides, he’s a delicate piece of equipment, so I’d guess you can’t overwork him.” Salbrin glared at him again. He could tell it was more venomous this time. She was very protective of her golem. He was her life achievement after all.

The towering doors the meeting chamber rumbled open. A panting Klein was escorted in by the guards, his steps echoing off the polished walls and pillars as he approached the dame. He held a bundle of scrolls to his chest.

Ganbold felt dryness in his throat, calmly hoping Klein would bring resolution. Salbrin brushed aside a lock of greying blonde hair and opened the first scroll. The meeting waited on bated breath.

“This is awfully sparse. I’m very disappointed in you.”

Ganbold leaned over, trying to read with her. He could feel Felitr breathing down his neck as he tried to peek as well. “You’ll find nothing worthwhile,” said Salbrin, gritting her teeth. Klein passed the other scrolls, looking very eager to please.

“As you can see our study shows no link between the golem’s drilling and the damage on Mount Fran. We see no reason for Her Ladyship not to continue with her projects.” She did not smile, but Ganbold could tell she was pleased by the news.

“Are you certain!?” he bellowed. Klein nodded and smiled subtly. Salbrin rolled the scrolls and gave them back. “This can’t be a coincidence, Salbrin. It just can’t be.”

“Sir Ganbold, I don’t want to hear another word about gods, or spirits, or whatever you call them. We let your people build their little shrines on my mountain and even let you go to them whenever they please. Isn’t that enough? Should I find these invisible ghosts and lick their chamber pots clean? All in the name of peace I'm sure.” The walls granted her a chorus like a thundering cloud.

Ganbold could not think of an answer. Ultimately, it was her mountain and her law. He retreated to his seat, feeling the dagger stares lingering over him. He turned to Klein who was ignoring him.

“Don’t Salbrin’s finest scholar’s usually produce volumes for things sort of thing?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid several of us didn’t make it back.” The council gasped. The news was enough to bring the dame to her feet. Klein went down on one knee, lowering his head. “A few met with avalanches.”

“Was this before or after you decided they were unconnected?”

“Don’t be so obnoxious, Sir Ganbold.” Salbrin’s voice was shaken. “That doesn’t prove anything. How many?”

“We saved whoever I could, but three of them… We had to leave them behind. Shall I make new arrangement to have them recovered and cremated?”

“Please do,” said Salbrin, her chin sinking. Klein marched out of the chamber, the guards closing the doors behind him.

Ganbold took another sip, but now the tea tasted sour with the heavy air over the table, not that something a small as death made him depressed. It happened all the time where he came from, it was almost as much a part of a loraken's life as the festivals. Even as emissary of peace, he had killed many of his rivals in duels. Eventually, the councillors and ambassadors return to regular affairs.

~

The elders had gathered in a circle outside Breck Jan’s farmhouse, the go-to place for any big news. Ganjin, excluded from their uttering began to stew in the rising sun. They came apart and formed a line facing the young elder.

“Elder Ganjin, that’s a brilliant idea,” said the first elder, stroking his long, grey beard. Another grabbed him by the horn and shook his head. The first elder replied by smacking his agitator across the face. In a second almost all the elders were shoving, hitting, and even biting one another. This was what they called “a debate”. Loraken loved debating. Sometimes hundreds of them would go out to a muddy field and debate for hours.

He watched with respect. These men had not reached their place by losing these debates, or any other kind of argument. His eyes met with Brecka Jan, the grizzled face not inspiring any confidence. As the wealthiest land owners in the village, Elder Brecka Jan was his biggest obstacle. One word from him could saddle him with dishonour for the rest of his life.

“And just how long do you plan this trip to be?” he asked.

“I’ll be returning for the next Degnibra, naturally.” The old farmer grumbled and chewed on the answer.

“Fine, go if want then,” he said, bringing the debate to a standstill.

Ganjin’s jaw dropped. He could not tell whether he actually thought it was a good idea or he just liked to be rid of him for a time. One of the elders tried to take Brecka Jan by the throat, but he smashed his palm into the old man’s face, toppling him over.

“Just because he agrees that don’t mean anything!” shouted Elder Kairi Suiwa. “You make enough trouble for us, little elder. The last thing we want is you riling someone important.”

“He's already brushed off with Breck Jan. He can only work up from there,” said Elder Gurn Yatjius.

Ganjin felt relieved right until he realised that was no compliment. The gathering was parted down the middle by the arrival of Haren Daar, who dragged himself forwards with his staff. “Sonac-meji Haren Daar the wise, what say you of this nonsense?” The shaman waited until he had everyone's eyes.

“Enkhaa was telling me all about it. It’s not us who’ve angered the spirits, so there must be retribution against those sinners. She's graciously volunteered herself for the journey to Franvoskin, or whatever it’s called. There’s no one more devote among my students.”

Ganjin was full of pity for her. The head shaman must have done something dreadful to make her go. The other elders patted the Haren Daar on the shoulders, congratulating him on a great idea. The shaman grinned cruelly at Ganjin. “Looks like we won’t be needing you any more, little elder.”

Ganjin snarled back.

“Perhaps we should send them both,” said Brecka Jan. Haren Daar snapped his jaws at him, but the farmer spoke unhindered. “A true loraken is a warrior, and that Enkhaa of yours is anything but.” The whole gather stood in awe of his defiance against the shaman. “It’s like she’s got no spirit of her own. She just does what she’s told. I cannot imagine a worse person to go.”

“Blasphemy! Blood, puss, and blasphemy! Maggots feast on your eyes in your sleep!” Haren Daar continued to shriek for some time. He had his arms cross, which meant no hitting. He only stopped when his face was blue and sweating.

“Shitting from the mouth for my amusement,” said Brecka Jan, sniggered heartily. “Maybe you’d like to lock horns?” Haren Daar gnashed his teeth, but he backed away on his wobbly legs. Brecka Jan stepped up, making the shaman retreat further, like he was being blown back by an unstoppable gale.

“I’ve already written ahead to the Franvoskin guards. They even wrote back. They were pretty polite for empty hearted heathens. They’re expecting a shaman, not a mongrel bastard from a dying kin. When she knows her duty there’s nothing that can stop that woman. You may think of her was hollow, but I see the mind of a xieuhei3.”

“Give ‘em both then. She’ll need protection anyway.”

Ganjin slowly shook his head, but no one noticed. As much as he got on with Enkhaa, the woman had no business sense. Wet blankets were not big sellers. The elders mumbled, standing between the two living pillars of the village. “Unless our noble Head Shaman has an objection, I think our compromise will be suitable.”

“Have it your way!” answered Haren Daar, giving both Brecka Jan and Ganjin the stink eye. “I’m starting to think it really is you the spirits are trying to prey on.”

“Hold on… I don’t need any help. This trip is for my family, I should be in charge.” Brecka Jan gave him a smug look.

Ganjin recalled their duel and silenced himself.

“You’re not the only one who needs the festival. You’re just the most desperate and the least busy. You’re only going with my blessing, and I can drag you away just as easily.” Ganjin nodded. “I believe the matter is settled. Enkhaa will be our envoy and you’ll be her guard. Simplicity in itself.”

Ganjin opened his mouth, but no words arose yet. He looked at Brecka Jan while he tried to think of a way of beating him in a second duel. He opened his mouth again. “It’s good enough for me, I suppose.”

“I wish you luck on your travels, little elder. Now I must return to work, as I suggest the rest of you do.” Brecka Jan climbed over the fence into his field. The meeting broke apart, like a house without its beams. All that remained in front of Ganjin was a red faced Haren Daar.

He took a breath, but could not bring himself to speak with the shaman.

“She sets off from the temple at sunset. Bring only what you need. Be late and be left behind, rotten, perverse hound.” Haren Daar spat each word out like it was venom in his throat.

Ganjin fell to his knee and bowed his head. When he reared his head up the shaman was staggering in away, flinging curses into the air.

~

Enkhaa felt the great discomfort of having all her fellow students prod and feel her over as they prepared her for her journey into the underworld. Nilan straightened the sleeves of the old dark green coat she was being made to wear over her usual kaften. It draped well past her ankles. She went to the front and tested the tightness of each sash with her finger. First she tugged the rose one, then the white over that, and then the black one over that with the little golden twine completing the set.

Enkhaa was smothered and humid.

Haren Daar burst through the curtains. The students formed a line beside her and stood perfectly still.

She looked straight ahead, trying to gather an air of nobility. Haren Daar’s grey eyes ran up and down the length of her dress. He brushed his beard and stepped back to view the entire look. “She’s coming together well,” he said. “Let’s try some more black with that green.”

“Do I have to?” asked Enkhaa, unable to move in all her wrappings. She could not grasp how Haren Daar could go around in so many layers every day. No wonder he was so shrunken.

“We’ll move onto ribbons then.”

“Hold on, I’ve never seen you wear anything like that.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. He’s a bit… short for them,” said Nilan, tying white ribbons to bases of Enkhaa’s horns. “You look just like the wife of a reengekh4. Stunning.” She pulled the ribbons down the back of Enkhaa’s head. “How’s that, elder?” Haren Daar drew a circle with his finger.

Enkhaa glanced down at her elaborate dress before trying to twirl. She could only move her legs below the knee, so she had to shuffle around frantically to show her back. After a full rotation she felt the need to faint. “I don’t see why I should go to all this effort. I’m sure it wouldn’t matter to these heathens if I was dragged naked and bloody.”

“You might just be if you keep talking like that. Now bow.”

Enkhaa began to bend over. Her organs were slowly crushed. She emitted a pathetic squeak. “You seem to be getting the hang of it.”

“I don’t think so, elder. It’s dark underground and probably bumpy, or did you forget? What if those heathens try to kidnap me? These clothes make me look all rich and defenceless."

“You can throw Ganjin to them and run,” said Haren Daar, chuckling under his breath.

Enkhaa loosened up, sighing. She knew Ganjin was more interested in making money than coverts and she did not want to see the closest thing she had to a friend wind up dead. “I know, he’s not who I’d send with you, but that blasphemous Brecka Jan—” Haren Daar kicked the floorboards. The life of an aged head shaman was a sad and frustrating one. Too withered to fight duels or be useful in any practical sense, but too important to be rid of.

She pitied him deep down as much as she respected him. “To be serious, you’ve got a duty of the highest order from the spirit of wisdom. Sonacyahne will hold to glorious praise should you return successful. You should feel honoured.”

“I will if you say so, elder.”

“I know you will. Those heretics may prove strong adversaries, but the purity of our ancestor’s spirits will overwhelm their machinations like a rage typhoon.”

“I’ll shatter their delusions.” Enkhaa raised her fists, trying to act vaguely excited. The duty had been handed down and no matter how much of a bad idea she thought it was she knew disobeying was an even worse one. “You can count on me, elder.”

“Now go! If you’re lucky Ganjin might be late.”

She knelt down and collected her belongings for the mission. She slipped her ancestor’s horns down between the black and white sashes. She flung a full sack over her shoulder and gently rose up. Her fellow students were watching with forlornness. They were now holding their own horoha.

“Spirits protect you, sister,” said Nilan. She clapped the horns of her wands together, forming iridescent sparks from the tips. Enkhaa bowed before following Haren Daar to the courtyard.

The white rivers of magic descended from the sunset sky to the earth5. Enkhaa watched the sunset in a peaceful silence. The faded look of the flows signalled the closing for Esfa season. Approaching from the opposite direction was Ganjin.

Enkhaa’s eyes were fixed on his armour, how it gleamed as it was bathed in orange light. She had never seen him wear armour before. Her mind began fill up with what dangerous possibilities could await them if he was equipped with metal.

“How overdressed, Ganjin,” said Haren Daar.

“You like it? My mother’s own design, thought it’d be a good chance to wear it.”

“I don’t think we’re going to war,” said Enkhaa, furrowing her brow. She hoped not, since wars generally took a lot of effort.

“No, but can’t you see how fine this suit is? Those wights’ll just –”

Enkhaa felt tingly all over. “Say no more.” She covered her mouth as a laugh forced its way out. She calmed herself down and turned to Haren Daar “I’ll be leaving now, elder. Pray for us.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, child. I can’t afford to lose a good student.”

She put her hands into her sleeves and bowed farewell.

“I’ll miss you, grandfather.” She took the lead and made her way to the temple steps. The fluttering music of insects surrounded them as they entered the forest.

~

The stalks bent in the breeze.

Adlfin’s eyes darted out into the forest. He paced around the mouth of the cavern, looking out every couple of seconds. He glanced at the sky, which was now a dark roof that kept the sun away. He was soon able to spot a pair of black shapes moving among the trees.

He gripped his hammer and shield. “I see you there! Show yourselves!” he shouted, with rock solid composure. Another guardsman stood by his side. The figures emerged from the beyond the stalks. It was a pair of dressed up loraken.

“Ah. Miss Enkhaa I assume? It’s an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He put away his hammer. She bowed. Adlfin’s eyes lay upon the extra guest. “May you introduce yourself?”

“Ganjin,” he said, brushing the dust and crisp leaves out of his bushy hair.

“Charmed. I’m Captain Adlfin Rocgit, guardian of the city gates at the behest of Her Ladyship Dame Horowit. Once we’ve had you searched I’ll take you down when you’re ready.” He beckoned for them to enter the cave. They did not move however. Instead they stared at him with puzzlement.

Adlfin replied with warm smile. “Don’t be coy. It shan’t take long.” The loraken stepped inside together. He directed them to stand next to each other with a small space between. “Firstly, I require you to hand over any weapons. Possession of weapons is illegal for visitors and civilians.”

“They’re not weapons to me,” said Ganjin, standing tall with great pride in his words. “They’re works of art.”

“That’s no excuse I’m afraid. It’s for the good of everyone.” Ganjin hesitated, but soon caved. He handed over his sword, along with five daggers of varying design and a crudely built hammer. “Quite the aspiring artist, I see. You’ll be required to hand over your armour as well.”

“It’s certainly no weapon. It’s the canvas of which my dearest mother painted her very being onto!”

“I’m afraid the law clearly states, as part of the Fourth Franvoskin Arms Act that only members of military institutions are allowed to bear armour within the city. I assure you that all personal belongs will be looked after and returned in perfect condition. I take personal responsibility for them.” He beat his chest plate in an appeal to get in touch with honourable warrior attitudes of the loraken.

“Ganjin, just do what he says,” said Enkhaa, crossing her arms.

Adlfin chuckled. His attention turned to the horns in her sashes. He knew loraken loved using their headgear for all sorts of bloody behaviour. If it were up to him, they would have to remove them from their skulls for the safety of the people. But the ones in her sashes in particular made him think of ornate daggers. “You need to hand those over,” he said, pointing at Enkhaa’s waist.

“Pardon? I can’t do such thing. Faith does not permit me to. A shaman without her mysticism like a bird without song,” said Enkhaa, in a way that sounded like was reading off her hand.

“Mysticism you say? I’m afraid the Second Franvoskin Law of Sorcery and Alchemy forbids the use of sorcery for those outside the accepted professions. I’m afraid ‘shaman’ is not listed an acceptable occupation.”

“A shaman is the only person who should be using them. Heathens and their backward laws.” Enkhaa rattled and ground her teeth. She put her hands on the horns in a very protective manner. Ganjin on the other hand was lightening up, becoming amused by her defensiveness.

Adlfin backed up and scratched his head. He could not understand what she was on about, all this faith and heathen business. All he knew was that those were words loraken liked to use a lot. “I’m afraid if you wish to meet with anyone at the palace you must adhere to proper etiquette.”

“Our horoha are harmless, so I don’t see what the problem is,” said Enkhaa. “The horns of my ancestors are no different from a flute or a brush.” It seemed like her horns were a completely different matter to Ganjin's metal and there was no changing her mind on it.

Adlfin felt ill. “Ancestors? Ugh... mictig.” Did faith make people carrying their dead relatives around with them? He could only imagine what bizarre images lay behind that dowdy face of hers. “If you’d stop talking about it I think I might of an exception that can be made. If anyone asks, you’re considering cremating the remains of your… ancestor. The magma rivers are a fine choice, miss.” He rubbed his temples as thoughts of what punishment might lie in wait for this jumping to loopholes. Salbrin's love of order was something he always stood by in firm agreement.

When the search was over he led them deeper into the cave. The loraken dawdled with suspicious glances.

Adlfin stopped on the trip to let them catch up. His guests began bumping into his back. He slapped himself in the forehead. It had been too long since the city had visitors of a different species who did not already provide for themselves. He reached into his pack and offered a torch to Enkhaa. After a minute of fumbling in the dim light they finally set it aflame. Adlfin squinted and turned from the flame.

Surface dwellers and their sun.

~

Enkhaa panted as she sat down on the next step.

Ganjin slumped over as soon as they stopped. He held the torch out closer to her. He tried to recall how long they had been descending the stairs into the underworld, but exhaustion clouded his memory. He stared back the way they came, but the stairs stretched off into the darkness and beyond. Adlfin rummaged through his pack, also with a heavy breath. He placed a slender candle on the step beside Enkhaa.

He felt awkward watching the scene unfold. Is he going to woo her with that? “I thought you were meant to be taking us to the city. Just how long have we been walking for?”

“What’d mean ‘how long’?” said Adlfin, taking the torch for a moment so he could light the candle. “Sorry, but this is the only way in open to visitors. Since you two seemed tired I thought we could just take a nap. We’re just about half way so it’s a good time to stop.”

“Right here?” asked Enkhaa, who sounded like she wanted to take him up on the offer.

“Don't sleep anywhere I wouldn't. The candle ought to wake us up.” Adlfin sat on a lower step and stretched his arms out. He blew out the torch, leaving them with a faint glow of flickering flame. The melting wax filled the air with a relaxing scent.

Ganjin was taking back to the early Esfa season back with blue petal flowers blooming in the forests. Adlfin was falling asleep, in his armour no less.

He cast a bewildered look at the guard. Anyone who could doze off in a suit of steel was clearly a heavy sleeper. He could only assume he really did sleep on these steps often.

He had not even seen this underworld city, but he already felt oppressed by its laws. No weapons, armour, or magic, and mere candles, not the glorious Spirits of Zakne on the sun, that dictated how long you slept for. It would not surprise him if the bowl told them what they could have for dinner. He rested on the step between Enkhaa and Adlfin, slouching as his chin lay into his hands. Enkhaa had also drifted off, having spread out on her step.

Ganjin groaned, deciding to let his friend have a short break. He inhaled deeply through his nose as the scent became more potent. He yawned, but was determined to continue the war against fatigue.

There was still half of the candle to go.

He was slapping his knees to keep himself awake. He reached down and nudged Adlfin. The snoozing guard did not reply. He shook him harder, but still nothing. He smacked him over the head. Adlfin awoke and jumped to the call as swiftly as he had gone to sleep. He gasped, and then began spinning his head frantically.

“What’s wrong!?” he asked, drawing his hammer.

“Nothing. I just want to get moving already. Time is money you know.”

“Oi! The law strictly forbids waking of a guard unless the situation is urgent. Look at the candle.” Adlfin sounded friendly despite his scathing.

Ganjin seethed just looking at him.

“Are you mad!? These rules are ridiculous! What makes you think you can just to sleep any time like that!?” Adlfin stared without any answer.

“We were tired, weren’t we?” He flexed his muscles.

“That’s it! You’re gonna sleep where you want, so I’ll duel wherever I want! Right here, you worm!” He cracked his knuckles, though he fully intended to gore him with his horns.

“I’m afraid the Second Franvoskin Arms Act forbids deadly contests in the city.” Adlfin waggled his finger at him.

Ganjin’s mind tried to reject that idea. By what convoluted system did these underground madmen use to deal payback if fighting was illegal?

“Now listen… heathen, here’s a law for you.” He poked his finger in the middle of Adlfin’s chest plate. He puffed out his own chest, filling with courage.

“The code of Hakuyankh says that a true loraken is warrior at heart, and the desire for strong servants of the spirits must be satisfied through battle! That’s the life of an honourable man! You’re telling me I have to surrender honour to enter your city!?”

“I’m afraid if you won’t obey then I can’t let you take another step down, let alone meet with Dame Horowit.”

Ganjin deflated. He could not return home with the future of poverty awaiting him and his mother. He had to endure. Enkhaa had awoken, but she had not taken to furious fight seeking like himself. Instead she was watching him with an uninterested daze on her face.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes. The urge to whack Adlfin was draining from his body. He felt like the oppressive city had already had its first win. “Fine, let’s continue at least.” Adlfin picked up the candle and used it the guide them further down.

When the candle drew closer to its demise Adlfin took another torch and spread the flame. The wax now filled their noses with what Ganjin imagined were faeces festering in the hot sun.

He pinched his nose and gave a sickly moan. Adlfin look over with a smile and a cocked eyebrow.

“Worry not. The smell goes away. Certainly wakes you up, doesn’t it.”

~

The stairs finally came to an end before a large cavern chamber. Just about all sense of time had vanished.

Ganjin's eyes were immediately caught by the statue in the middle. A hornless figure in robes and armour, with a sword in one hand and an odd, flat square in the other held to his chest. It baffled him how they could have laws against fighting, and then put up a statue of a warrior. The inscription carved in bronze at the base was a single word. “Chimvelentien6”.

Adlfin led them around the statue to the threshold on the other side. “Mind the stalagmites now. Those things can hurt something nasty if you slip on them.” They entered a tighter passage that branched off many times both left and right, but they were taken straight ahead. The tunnel opened up into an even bigger chamber.

Ganjin stared in awe. The city of wights was not narrow and small as he had imagined, but a vast and open cave with tiers of buildings carved into the sides. The faint, white rivers of magic flowed from the ceiling to the ground. Such sights were not uncommon on the surface as magic came from the endless sky, but never had he seen them so vibrantly before at this time of year.

They wandered into the centre plaza, which was full of stone stalls. Wights stopped and gawked at the loraken as they approached.

A sense of unease filled Ganjin. His eyes darted to each one they came by. Why are they the one’s staring? They all had a weak by freakish glow to their skin. He had seen fireflies and their green tails on many nights, but these wights had the look of evil spirits about them, the sort that lured you into the woods with their alluring light and snatch you whole.

He broke off from his guide, drawn to the scene of economy. Even with the rivers bringing a soft white glow he had to squint just to make out what was ahead. Many of the stalls he crossed sold fabrics and ornaments of stone and metal. As he stepped away from the stall be bumped into someone.

He spun on his heel, but he struggled to make out the features of her face other than her shining blue eyes. The woman squeaked nervously and turned her face away immediately. She scuttled away in a hurry.

“You’ll have plenty of time play shopkeeper later,” said Enkhaa, grasping his shoulder. “Don’t speak to them. Don’t even look at them if you can.”

He slowly nodded. They sought out Adlfin’s torch, the brightest light in the city. They barged their way through the crowd, garnering many tongue clucks and gasps of ‘how rude’.

“Hey, Adi?” asked Ganjin, trying to sound friendlier than before. “When do we get to see this dame person?” Adlfin stopped and looked back with confusion. “And since I’ve got your ear, Adi, can you tell all these lot to quit staring.” He had chills through his body, but he did not want to admit it.

“You would like them to continue with their eyes shut?” asked Adlfin. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to get used to it.” He tapped his bearded chin. “I’ll be taking you up to the palace and informing Her Ladyship of your arrive.”

“Finally, some cooperation,” said Enkhaa, who looked apathetic in the face of the constant onlookers. “You should tell her that a great and brutal retribution awaits her for her heresy.”

Ganjin leaned away from Enkhaa. Her words carried a fervour he had never seen before, even if her tone was still flat.

“I’m afraid threats of violence are strictly forbidden,” replied Adlfin, still scratching his chin.

“It’s a generous warning.”

“Duly noted, miss.”

“Say, Enkhaa,” said Ganjin, crossing his arms as he trailed behind Adlfin. “Is something on your mind?”

“It’s nothing. It’s just what Elder Haren Daar told me to say.”

He smiled forcefully. Those certainly sounded like his words, he thought. “Not that I don’t think he’s right, I’m just not good with speeches.”

Another pair of wights covered their noses as they passed them. Ganjin shook his fist at the back of their heads. “Adi, why’d they keep doing that!?”

“I’m afraid it’s because of your smell.”

Ganjin sniffed his sleeves. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Enkhaa shrugged.

“It’s probably that candle you had.” Adlfin shook his head.

“I’m afraid the law forbids entering the palace without first making a trip to the river for cleansing.”

Ganjin tilted his head sideways. “It means you wash yourself in the river.”

He was new to this idea, but he did not like the sound of it one bit. “But that’s… blasphemous. I think.”

“That’s right,” said Enkhaa. She waggled her finger at Adlfin in the manner of a disappointed teacher. “Soiling a river with the muck of our bodies will make the spirit wrathful.”

“Rivers have spirits?” asked Adlfin, stroking his beard. “Well I don’t think they minded us ever doing it.”

“Hopefully once I warn you of the impending disaster you’ll stop doing that.” Adlfin averted his gazed.

“I’m afraid the law is the law on this one.”

On the opposite side of the city's market place were more branching paths. Each had another statue at the opening before the creeping darkness within.

Ganjin was struck with sudden weariness at the sight. His legs wanted to turn tail and head back already.

1Lestunheige: an old Wicht word meaning “wealthy mine”. In its modern usage is to refer to the product of genius.

2Ragulir: a brass instrument known on a surface as a Phantom Horn. It played by Wights in large echo chambers.

3Xieuhei: means thousand year old hermit. They're not actually that old, but it's said that in order to become one you must acquire the knowledge of someone who's lived for a thousand years. They are the Loraken equivalent of what other species would call a wizard, one who can harness the magic energy their bodies absorb from nature. In fiction, Xieuhei were identified by their massively oversized horns, which would snap their necks their bones grew too old to bare the weight.

4Reengekhs are the highest social class among loraken, mostly made up of politicians, city scholars, and highly successful duelists (who likely won their status by beating or killing another reengekh in a duel).

5The flows of magic in and out of the world are visible only in the far west and northern points in the world. The people of the Monji Ruuga Islands in particular use them to dictate their harvests.

6Chimvelentien was the scholar and general who led the Wights to the islands to escape the tyranny of Wicht nation of Galvianic.

Edited March 25, 2013 by Shuuda

[Shuuda]

Chapter Three

Adlfin stopped before the smooth, stone stairs. The way was illuminated by white lanterns flanking the steps and the waterfalls of magma that all poured into the grand, dark abyss the stairs led across. The stairs snaked and wound up to a distant façade.

Ganjin staggered to his knees, wishing never to see any more stairs so long as he lived. This was all he needed to convince him that they had not just journeyed to a new city, but a new world, one where nothing quite made sense. The magma at least boiled the dampness from his shameful polluting of a river. For that he felt a spark of gratitude.

“That’s the palace of Bluvalken Palla1, where the Dame and her council reside. Over there,” said Adlfin, pointing to the towering black doors at the end of the road. “I wouldn’t recommend falling down the pit.”

“Where does it go?” asked Enkhaa, peeking over the edge with no hint of fear.

“Through the bottom of the world I’d guess. Wouldn’t want to be guy to find out, but there’s nothing to fear. These stairs are tended to by countless fine Wichts, so you won’t slip on nothing.” Adlfin took the first step, his metal boots echoing off the rock walls. Enkhaa followed.

Ganjin was on the edge with thoughts of tipping over. He would not budge. They cast their eyes on him. “You need a rest now, my friend? I’ve got plenty of candles left.”

“No! I just need to get my breath. What madmen built this place?” It eluded him how this could even be here at all. He had grown up in the city of Alakuula2, but even that paled in comparison to size of the palace ahead.

Adlfin reached for his beard and stroked. No one had an answer to the question.

Every so often they would come by a woman in plain dress sweeping the stairs. None of them appeared to concern themselves with the bottomless pit just steps away.

It’s not that I’m scared, thought Ganjin as trailed behind the guard, it’s just that it’s the opposite place I’d expect to find steep fall like that. At least on a mountain I can see where I’m gonna go splat.

Around half way Adlfin parked on the next step.

Ganjin flung himself beside him. The heat from the magma flows felt stuffy and draining. He felt like he had been working the forge all day, only without the beautiful sense of fulfilment of holding the new-born instrument.

“Much longer?” he asked, leaning back.

“Last leg next, I promise.” Adlfin brought a handful of mushrooms from his pack. “Help yourselves.”

Ganjin and Enkhaa probed the pile. As a child he had been warned of the dangers of eating mushrooms from the woods. As a young adult he had a week long practical lesson on the subject. Adlfin picked a piece and ate it in one go.

Ganjin picked one of the same colours and cautiously bit a chuck off. His face scrunched up and his lips trembled. He tossed the rest into his mouth and swiftly chewed before the rest of the taste had time to sink in. “With that… meal over, can we continue?” Adlfin look longingly at the pile in his hands.

Ganjin refused to believe he actually enjoyed any of them. He imagined there might be some law against telling guards to stop eating mushrooms.

Between the last step and the palace doors was a bridge with fortified outposts on both ends. Adlfin stopped the convoy at the first checkpoint.

After climbing the steps the palace still felt distant, as Ganjin sensed another law about to hinder their journey. His eyes were drawn to the front of the palace and its imposing architecture. A serpent’s head on each side of the gate spat magma into the pit. The doors were a silvery grey, with angular patterns from top to bottom.

At least a dozen guards stormed out and formed a barricade against their progress. They used their halberds to form a steel fence. Adlfin pulled out a badge and thrust it forwards.

“Hello. Captain Adlfin Rocgit reporting to the palace with guests,” he said. A grey bearded soldier scrutinised the badge. “Everything should be in order.”

“The palace is closed to guests. You should know that by now, Captain.”

“Then I wish to speak with Sir Ganbold Karn and Dame Horowit. I’m certain they’d make an exception.” The old guard sneered at Adlfin. The gate guard’s smile held firm.

Ganjin’s eyes widened. That first name was without a doubt one of a fellow Loraken. At least someone in this mad city might stand in our corner, he thought. But he had never heard of him before, and could hardly imagine a reason why a Loraken would be here unless it was urgent.

“Very well,” said the old guard, commanding the soldiers to part with his hands. “You may pass through, but your guests will have to wait on the bridge.” Adlfin turn around and sighed.

“Just do what you’ve got to do,” said Enkhaa, kneeling down. Adlfin bowed before passing through the wall of guards.

Ganjin collapsed beside Enkhaa and began rubbing his sore legs. He threw himself onto his back and stared at the jagged ceiling. It was disheartening to not see the fresh, blue skies. The stories of a travelling merchant he had been told were full of grandeur and wit, not drudgery and enclosing darkness at everything angle.

~

The gear slipped into place, a round peg in a round hole level of perfection. Every cog and piston as far as the eye could see began to turn and pump in celebration of their new sibling’s arrival.

Salbrin rotated so that she could watch all the motions, enjoying the music of her mechanical world. Each time a new section was done her senses were taken back to the first time, and the suspenseful question of whether it would work or not. If these tunnels were the palace’s gardens then Salbrin was a very keen gardener.

One cog was squeaky, and it did not take long for Salbrin to figure out which. It turned just a few metres down from the new one she had just added. A bit of grease would fix that right up. She made a special note on it in the back of her head.

The song was sullied by the clamour of feet racing towards her. Her troubles crept back into her mind. The smile melted off her face and returned to her state of neutrality. She wiped her hands on the front of her apron, leaving stripes of grease.

Adlfin burst through the shadows and came skidding to a halt. He saluted with a big grin slapped on.

Salbrin acknowledged him silently. Their last meeting was fading from memory, so she felt in part glad to see him. Had it of been a councillor there might have certainly have been shouting and use of the cane. Adlfin did not speak, as it was considered rude to talk before the ruler.

“A pleasure, good Captain. What brings you here?”

“O’ Dame of the Mountain, I bring news of new arrivals to the city. They are Ganjin and Enkhaa from the surface, who wish to speak with you on a matter most important to them.” Adlfin was breathing heavily as he kept his chin held high.

Ganbold Karn appeared out of the darkness at a much more leisurely pace. He looked more chuffed about the news than anyone else and was dressed even more gaudily than usual in blacks, oranges, and pinks. He no doubt caught wind of their surface dwelling visitors.

“Captain Rocgit, don’t you think that’s a rather trivial thing to bother me with right now? And as for you, Ganbold, I won’t hear another word.” Ganbold sealed his lips and shrugged.

Salbrin put her hands on her hips like she was staring down naughty children. Adlfin was always too friendly for his job, and this would not be the last time he interrupted her precious work. “I get little time to indulge myself as it is.”

“Forgive me, Your Ladyship, but they come with urgent news of Mount Fran.” As the only warmth in her tunnels came from the friction of metal she could tell by Adlfin’s sweat that he was frightened to confront her.

“The matter is already being dealt with in the appropriate manner. Please direct your questions to Sir Aaberl.” said Salbrin, tapping her foot. “I think you do well to trust in my judgements. A hard working guard like you wouldn’t want to wind up on my bad side. Allow me to suggest your next course of action. You’ll send them away and leave me to my work.” Adlfin saluted again, this time very clumsily, in what she suspected was a bid to prove his loyalty.

She never questioned his loyalty, just his desire to compromise. Ganbold laughed heartily at the mishap.

“Forgive me, but they don’t look like they’ll take no for an answer.”

Salbrin drooped and groaned. Those surface barbarians never failed to make trouble whenever they reared their heads, she thought. Why can’t they all be as learned and stylish as Ganbold? Her plans of building a get-away home on the surface were less appealing when she considered being next door neighbours to those brutes. “Dame?” asked Adlfin, with a look of needless concern.

“So be it.” Salbrin untied her apron and tossed it to Adlfin. “Surface dwellers are ever the brash and loud, so did they say anything that might amuse?” Ganbold pulled a sour face.

Salbrin hid her face to chuckle at him.

“I believe one of them’s what they call a priesty person… or perhaps both of them. I was told to expect a priest of some sort… I think. A real odd ball he was. Armed to the teeth, but he wasn’t a soldier.”

“A shaman you mean,” muttered Ganbold, scratching the back of his head.

“Oh, no doubt they’ve come to pester me about their gods,” said Salbrin, blowing off steam with an irritated sigh. Adlfin’s looked perplexed, whereas Ganbold Karn averted his gaze. “Or their spirits,” she continued. They were basically the same thing from what she had heard. But god was the usual name for them back in the home of her youth, where the neighbouring humans spent a lot of words on them. “Or some other lunacy.”

The walls and ceilings of clockwork continued to stretch on as she travelled to meet her appointment. Her nerves were soothed by the clanks and twists of metal flowers.

~

Ganbold lurked around the mapped corridors of the palace, right outside of the library, the corridor labelled as Daylen Street. His arms were tightly folded to his chest as he paced up and down. The door on his left clicked open and Klein walked out.

Ganbold had expected a horde of scholars in his wake, but considering the report they were given it was not so surprise to see Klein alone this time.

“Young Master Klein, a word if I may?” He lifted his arms as though he were reaching for something. Ganbold always felt a sense of pride for being the tallest man in the palace, if not the whole city.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of books now?” asked Klein, not lifting his head to meet face to face.

“I heard stories the library isn’t well mapped.” It was the general rule of living in a Wight palace, he had been told, to never stumble into anywhere that had not been mapped out. “I was hoping to read that report you gave.”

“Planning on handing it to your friends from the surface? Right this way then. I had just finished filing it away.” Klein held the library door for Ganbold.

On the other side was a whole new world. Beyond the grand reception desk were bookshelves as far as the eye could see. Rivers of magic drifted through the ceiling and between the aisles like curious ghosts. There were angry hisses of Blind Cave Serpents crawling along the ceiling, occasionally flapping their thin wings. The perfect guard dogs for the library. They were swift, slender, and did not breath fire.

Klein led the way to a rack of scrolls that were thankfully not too far from the entrance. The newer documents and books started their life at the front of the library and through a silent process they merged into the dark void of the shelves. Klein whipped out several scrolls that inhabited the same slot of the rack.

“Here we are. This is everything that was documented from our investigation. The Report on Mount Fran’s Integrity. Read to your heart’s delight.”

Ganbold Karn brought the scrolls to the table, where by chance Felitr Xar-what’s-his-name was sitting with his face buried in a weighty tome. His paper lantern decorated the middle with a vibrant orange glow. Every minute he would puff a strand of light hazel hair out of his viewpoint. His eyes flickered up to greet him for just a second.

Ganbold Karn rolled out the first scroll, and realised he might have overestimated his ability to get to bottom of this conundrum. It was all the little charts and diagrams that beat him over the head worst. The word Escalentalism popped up numerous times. He knew only patches of how Wights saw the use of magic. At its core it was simple, the idea that every organic material could retain a small amount of the energy from the moon. Escalentalism was the study of extracting the power from the ingredients. Salbrin however, was dead set against allowing these powers to run free.

“Felitr.” He lowered her book and gave Ganbold-Karn a puzzled stare. “You wouldn’t mind helping me.” He did not trust Klein, who was lingering at the side of the table, to give an accurate reading. Felitr came around and leaned over his shoulder as she stood. He ran his slender finger down the left side of the scroll.

“Do you anything about erosion at all?” he asked. Ganbold Karn shook his head. “You see, Klein believes that the stone on the mountains were weakened by water seeping into the cracks and freezing. That causes a chain reaction when the magic inside the rock sparks off.” Ganbold Karn could barely recall the last time he encountered ice, or any weather besides the odd leaky ceiling.

“Makes sense, I suppose. But Young Master Klein, don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

“I wouldn’t dream of pondering such thoughts as to make a fool out of you, Sir Ganbold Karn.”

“Actually, I was wondering if I might speak with the surviving scholars.”

“Not right now. They’re still in shock.” Ganbold Karn crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, content to let Felitr continue reading. He glanced at the second scrolls when he rolled it out, noticing the handwriting was the same all over.

“Well I want to see them anyway. I see no reason why I can’t, can you?”

“You’re rather desperate to sully your loyalties. I thought we all wanted the same thing down here.”

“I’ve got a job to do,” said Ganbold Karn, ploughing his nose back into the scrolls with a jolt that left Felitr stumbling back. The glorious Ankhaa Kuru was depending his work down here, and by the radiance of the mogor he did not plan on resting. He knew all too well the violent nature of his people, not that he ever lamented it. A pair of hick Loraken trying to speak with the Dame was like tossing oil on a pan fire. Felitr began reading the third and final scroll. “Did you write all these by yourself?” asked Ganbold.

“Yes. Dame Horowit demanded the report immediately after all, but the others needed their rest.”

Ganbold rubbed his eyes. He was considered quite intelligent for a Loraken, but he always found reading to be a tedious activity. He thought of himself a practical man.

Klein began moving away from the table towards the nearest bookshelf. Ganbold Karn gave him a look that said ‘move and you’re in for a world of pain’. Klein smiled patronisingly, his head swishing back for a moment. Wights never bothered to hide the fact they were hiding something. It was an accepted part of how people in the palace behaved.

“Sir Ganbold Karn, the Dame has use for me. You wouldn’t want me disappointing her now. Either way, I don’t plan on being bullied by the likes of you for much longer.” He clapped his hands to summon a pair of rough faced guards to his side. He slipped away behind the shelves, vanishing in the void of literature.

Ganbold launched himself into a chase. Around the first bend was darkness that was like a brick wall to him. His whole body slumped over against the shelf. He returned to the table, finding Felitr sat in his place. He was engrossed in the report. He grabbed on the corner of one scroll gently, but Felitr swatted him away with the back of his hand.

~

What’s this, thought Eldie, as he popped his head around the bookshelf. He had a front row seat to the discord between Klein and the Loraken emissary. He cupped his hand over his ear and listened to every juicy detail. The people had a right to know what happened behind the palace’s closed doors, and he was a slippery hero to deliver it to the masses.

Klein spun his head. Eldie jumped back, holding his breath. The summoning of the guards was a signal to vanish. Eldie sprinted through the rows, taking sudden twists to try and lose his pursuers.

The stone beneath his feet began to shake. A wall grew between the shelves, blocking him in a dead end.

Eldie took a step away from the wall, bending his knees. He charged and leapt at the right shelf. He bounced off and gripped the top of the mysterious wall. It’ll take more than crude trickery to stop the magnificent Eldie Sinders, echoed the boast in his skull.

He climbed onto the top of the shelves and scouted for the guards. The clang of their armour rang from between two distant shelves. Eldie scuttled over the top of the library, hoping between the large shelves.

He was blindsided by something rock solid and launched off the shelves. He landed on his left arm.

He went up against the shelf as support, holding his wounded arm steady. The pain was seething hot, but with deep breathing he overcame the urge to scream and collapse.

The racket of the guards closed in, so Eldie darted onwards. The floor shifted again, raising up under his feet and throwing him back.

The guards loomed over, their darkness adjusted eyes glaring with a tiny glow. They dragged him by both arms, gripping his left particularly tightly. Eldie spluttered and squirmed, kicking his legs as high as he could. The guards only increased his punishment.

He was taken before Klein in the depths of the library. The scholar was watching him smugly with his hand sin his coat pockets. Eldie squeezed his lips together.

“Just when we were thinking we’d never deal with the pest problem. Eldie Sinders, if I’m not mistaken.”

“I think you will be,” said Eldie, a sense of cowardice in his voice. He was trying to talk much bigger than he was. The guard on the right hit him on the head. “Yeah, you got me.”

“There’s no need for conflict, unless you’re aiming for high treason.”

Eldie snorted. Of course he’d say that when I’m being forced onto my knees. “So, were we trying to dig dirt on our city’s fair Dame?” Klein chortled. Given that half the Wights in the city were miners, digging dirt was perfectly normal activity.

“I was lost, Mister Aaberl, I swear. I was heading home from the market and I didn’t notice that I’d just passed through the palace doors. Must ‘ve been the Kidney Horns I had.”

“Most amusing. But what’s not amusing is your punishment. I believe the Dame now decrees death to those who invade the palace.” That was a rather extreme penalty, considering that most people who tried sneaking in the palace ended up getting lost and starving anyway. In ages past the Wights dealt with siege by opening the gates and letting the palace swallow armies like a whale eating a school of fish. “However, I think mercy can be arranged for a citizen as talented as you. Ever thought of putting those skills to the good of the city?”

“It’s why I’m here, Mister Aaberl.” Eldie pull a very serious face, determined not to show any fear of death in front of the enemy, though he could feel the sweat down his forehead. He knew exactly what Klein meant and he did not relish the thought of being a lackey like him. But nor did he enjoy the image of his head being detached from his shoulders.

“If you don’t like it then you can see it as an alternative punishment.”

“He’s probably got friends ‘ere too,” said the right guard. Klein looked at him silently. “He’s always got those two wimmen with him, sir. Real pretty they are.”

“They ain’t here. That’s the truth.”

“Perhaps we might pay them a visit all the same. I’m certain the news of your unfortunate death would grieve them.” There was no a drop of sympathy in Klein’s expression.

“Fine, what’d want from me?” asked Eldie, surrendering his already meek resistance. The guards pulled him to his feet and pushed him into following Klein through the library’s maze. The guards released his arms, his left drooping limply.

He stared at the back of Klein’s head, wondering if there was any hope of shoving him down and making a run for it. But the part of the brain that controlled self-preservation, which was extra-large in his, began lecturing him. It said you should at least wait until you’re alone with him.

“Heard about our new arrivals?” asked Klein. “Very simple minded folk, so I think you’d like them.”

Eldie had a feeling if they went by Klein’s definition then he would get along with just about everyone who was not Klein or Salbrin.

“Whatever you want, but you’ll let me go afterwards, won’t you?” He scratched his mess of black hair with no regard to etiquette.

“You have my word as a gentleman.” Klein gave a courteous gesture. He might as well of just slapped him for all Eldie cared for his manners.

They arrived at the reception, taking a rest at the one of the marble pillars. Klein invitingly stepped aside, leaving Eldie with a puzzled look.

“I think you should lead on. Perhaps you’d be as kind as to show me how you got in.”

~

The grand doors of the palace finally opened for Ganjin and Enkhaa. Adlfin ran out, panting madly. Firstly they were lead though what Ganjin thought looked like a courtyard, with statues of proud men and women surrounding a square plaza and ponds in each corner. The different colours of stone were impressive. Bloodstone, marble, and quartz were particularly popular. It would be a beautiful place to host a festival, which was the only reason Ganjin could imagine for needing a courtyard underground.

The opening halls of the palace were paved with onyx walls and pillars that were polished to a pure shine. It was dizzying and otherworldly, like floating through the night sky. Their steps echoed like the halls were filled with a marching army. In fact, beside the odd the dutiful guard the hall was empty.

They were brought before a white throne, which had the radiance of a full moon. Ganjin and Enkhaa were ordered to stand with their backs straight and arms crossed.

He assumed this was where the Dame made herself comfortable much of the time.

From the right side passage to the throne room emerged a woman in a crimson dress. It was the finest outfit Ganjin had seen worn by a Wight, but it was still rather utilitarian and simple compared to even some merchants he had met.

Adlfin lead the procession. “All stand to attention for Her Ladyship Dame Horowit of Mount Fran.”

Ganjin was covered his mouth in a bid to avoid laughing. She was a lot stouter than he had been expecting a ruler to be. Her face was covered with black smudges.

He kicked himself mentally for it, but he could not help compare her to his mother. It was not the face of a terrible and power crazed queen greeting them. She had tired eyes and world weary lines around her lips. She entwined her scabbed, rough fingers and frowned.

Adlfin came between them and saluted. “O’ honourable Dame of the Mountain, I present to you our guests, Ganjin and Enkhaa who are of the village of Yokaanpu.”

Ganjin bowed, finding a sudden desire to laugh when he noticed his lowered head was now at the same height as hers. The feelings of disgust and contempt were written on her stony face.

“Please proceed. And don't dawdle,” muttered the Dame. Ganjin opened his mouth, but was struck by Enkhaa’s elbow.

“Dame Horowit, I’ve come with an offer to put an end to the landslides on Yokaanmogor.” Salbrin’s already dulled face gradually drifted into one of utter annoyance. “Too many of the shrines have been ruined.”

“Are these the same shrines my predecessors generously let your kind invade our mountain to build?” Ganjin could still hardly believe this woman actually had lordship over the holy mountain. It was humiliating just to think about it.

“Those’d be the ones,” said Ganjin. He was shoved aside again.

“That’s correct, Dame. The Yokaanmogor Temple has decided to humbly request your assistance in the mending of said shrines. It should be a small duty in return for the blessing of the mogor’s spirits.”

“I think an easier way to solve this would be to just forbid you from using my mountain. I never did like that law anyway.”

“Our glorious Ankhaa-Kuru might have something to say about that. It’s our divine right to build shrines on the mogor.” There was a name you rarely ever heard in villages of the eastern island.

Ganjin immediately thought it was a bluff. Enkhaa never wanted things to escalate, and what could be worse than bringing in the glorious emperor into their affairs.

“I believe he signed over you’re divine right a long time ago. From what I can see, the reality is that not even your own leaders care for your spirits. Perhaps you should appeal to them for donations. Regardless, I believe we’re done. It was a pleasure, and I hope you enjoy my fair city to your heart’s content.” Salbrin spun on her heel and walked away.

Ganjin clenched his teeth, unfolding his arms. Adlfin scooted up closer. No doubt he had another rule up his sleeves, thought Ganjin.

“Get back ‘ere!” he shouted. She did not reply, so he stormed up to her. “Don’t tell me you came here just to tell us to leave!” His bellowing attracted a host of guards to flock around him with halberds clenched in both hands.

“I was passing through,” said Salbrin, looking over her shoulder. “But since I hear you’re quite the tenacious I’ll make it clear as I can for your pebble sized brains that I have no interest in spirits, or shrines, or temples. I assure you not a single Wicht in this city would concern themselves over it.” She stared into his eyes without a hint of being intimidated by his stance. “If I was doing something that angered them so much, wouldn’t these mighty spirits of yours come here themselves to sort me out?”

Enkhaa tried to answer. “I’m here to speak—“

“You wouldn’t listen I bet.” Ganjin’s eyes rolled as he smirked. “But you’d listen real good if I told you we’re on to you.” Ganjin pushed out his chest and smirked. Adlfin signalled for him to stand down, but he only took it as a sign of progress.

“Every clod and politician in the isles thinks they’re on to me.”

“That Klein’s an associate of yours, am I right?” asked Enkhaa. Salbrin nodded. “He mentioned your... activities.”

“Thank you for informing me,” said Salbrin, in a tone that was distinctly insincere. “There’s nothing to concern yourselves with, as I’ve already taken steps to ensure that none of my plans don’t do anything to my mountain.”

Ganjin frowned over how vague the conversation was.

“Now seriously, if you would excuse me.” She curtsied and tried to leave a second time. Ganjin was quickly being overcome with rage. If he had been home this would have been solved by now. A hand gripped him firmly on the horn. Enkhaa looked hard-heartedly at him.

“Don’t try anything stupid. I don’t want you getting us both killed.” The fanaticism had been drained from her tone. He guested she had spent every thought Haren Daar planted in her head. Her eyes were fixed on the Dame as she left, beaming lukewarm dislike.

“I’m afraid I did all I could. The Dame just doesn’t see you as important enough. The law states that commoners may not have use of the palace without a councillor’s approval. I’m afraid you’re going have to leave.”

“We’re not going anywhere ‘til we’re done.”

“Can we at least stay in the city?” asked Enkhaa.

“Course you can, but you’ll have to make your own arrangement. This way please.” Adlfin led them to the front gates again.

Ganjin planted his feet, refusing to leave. The guards closed him around him in a semi-circle.

“Enkhaa, are we just gonna let that woman get away with that?” The guards took a another step forwards.

“We’ll think of something. She isn’t going to have a duel, that’s just a fact.” The guards backed away, but still staring him down.

Ganjin finally resigned himself to leaving, following Adlfin with hands in his sleeves. To think he had drowned himself in a river just to be swept aside by the cold-hearted woman.

“Where exactly are we gonna be staying?” he asked. They did not know anyone in the city they could bunk with.

“It’s not like it’ll rain on us.”

Depression smothered Ganjin’s thoughts. Was she really suggesting they sleep on the streets like they were suddenly poverty stricken? His neck turned limp, his eyes staring at the black floor. Anything was better than that.

1Bluvalken Palla: Bloodstone Palace.

2The largest city on the Eastern Island, due north west of Yokaanpu.

My apologies for being slow with posting new chapters. Life has been busy for me recently, including the start of a new story I'm currently working on. I hope that I can make future updates in a more timely fashion.

I hope you enjoy.

[Shuuda]

Chapter Four

The crowd of Wights parted wherever the Loraken tread.

Ganjin turned his head left and right, trying to conjurer a plan on the go. Enkhaa trailed behind, holding out the torch Adlfin had kindly given them. He reached out to anyone brave enough not to flee, but they ignore his calls.

“What’s wrong with these people,” muttered Ganjin.

“We're quite the imposing,” said Enkhaa. They drifted like wave riding wood to the edge of the market. He noticed the walls of the cave had been dug out into houses. The walls had been smoothed out, and decorated with carved patterns, statues, and pillars. The doorways were covered not with a bright curtain but a slab of metal, a cold sight which daunted his spirit ever more.

“One of these has to be a boozer or something…. Or maybe someone’ll let us stay. I still got some money on me,” said Ganjin desperately. Enkhaa looked upwards.

“I don’t think it makes any difference. We’re inside as it is.” Enkhaa leaned on the stone wall.

Ganjin gave it a kick, channelling his anger. It made every difference to him. An Elder had to act with dignity, and what could be less dignified than sleeping on the streets? “Shouldn’t we be thinking of a plan?” asked Enkhaa.

“I’ve already got one. I just need to make up those lost profits then I’ll head home.” He just needed to find a forge then he could bleed these new customers dry. He could smell the smoke of burning coal in the air.

“Now’s not the time.”

“Look at the facts, Enkhaa. A Dame ain’t gonna pay any attention to a couple of peasants like us. If I could whack her one around the face to get her to listen I would, but then old Adi would smash that hammer through my head.”

“Peasants like us? Maybe if you’d let me speak we wouldn’t have been thrown out. We just have to find a way to get to her again.”

“These Wights must live a long, long time if they can afford all this time.” The leg numbing stairs and the barricade of guards were only the first barrier to getting anything done in this city, or so it seemed to Ganjin.

He tugged at the door, finding it more of a challenge that expected, and poked his head inside the first house. It was a sparsely decorated affair inside.

He rammed two fingers in his mouth and whistled for the owners. There was shrill scream followed by a man charging out of the next room with a broom. He roared insults and chased Ganjin out of the house. The man shook his fist at them as the Loraken backed from the house.

Ganjin dug his heel and rebound. He was sure that was a challenge. He cracked his knuckles.

“Badgoff!” shouted the balding Wight, scratching Ganjin’s face with a fast swipe.

Ganjin grabbed the broom end and yanked at it. He pulled back his free hand, forming a fist.

“Halt! Stop!” The two men turned a pair of steel clad guards brandishing shields.

Ganjin snarled and realised the broom. The guard pressed the pair of them against the wall and blasted their ears with the righteous law.

“Officer, we were just having a bit of a misunderstanding,” said the imprisoned Wight.

Ganjin nodded. “This man was just trying to break in.”

“I was just sayin’ hello! You got it all wrong!” Ganjin thrashed and kicked, but the officer elbowed him in the back, crushing his shoulder blades. “I’ll crave—“

“What my friend means to say is we’re new here. He’s a bit of a clod if I were honest. I’ll be sure to keep on a leash from now on.” Ganjin was on the verge of exploding. He clawed at the stone wall like a wild animal.

The guards tossed Ganjin away and flanked Enkhaa. The Wight scampered back into his house.

“Very well. But he goes to the old, cold, cell in the pits if we catch him again. Be warned, ma’am, Her Ladyship has to patience for disorder in her fair city.” Enkhaa bowed. The guards left, grumbling and then sniggering. Enkhaa remained bent until the guards vanished into the crowd.

“Ganjin, don’t pick fights with them. These heathen’s find any reason they can to lock us up.”

“What’d putting me down like that for?”

“Oh, stop complaining.” Enkhaa lightly smacked him with the back of her hand.

Ganjin balled his fist, but caught a glimpse of a guard patrolling the crowd. He straightened up and stroked his sore back.

“Right… next house then?” Enkhaa pointed to the crowd that was staring at them. Their eyes were full of fear and contempt, and their scorning words were unnerving. Comments calling Ganjin a beast stung him the worst. Back home people would cheer whenever a fight broke out. It was the day to day entertainment.

Ganjin and Enkhaa hurried away before a lynch mob could form. Along the outskirts of the market they found an empty tunnel to rest in. They rhythm of metal hitting stone echoed in their ears.

The torch light whipped and waned suddenly, shrinking the visible aura surrounding them.

“Enkhaa, can’t you just use those horns?” asked Ganjin, looking at the decayed wands in her sash.

“For how long?” She pushed the torch onto Ganjin. She crossed her arms and grabbed the handles of each wand. She drew them out and held them out at the full span of her arms, the silk tags flapping with her draping sleeves. The two horns were clapped together, forming a bloom of colourful sparks. A trail of flames followed the motions of her arms, creating wondrous patterns.

Ganjin’s body felt warm and soothed of aches. Enkhaa cut the show short, thrusting the wands back into her sash.

“Just as you were getting’ to the best part.” Ganjin groaned.

“I don’t think Adi’ll take kindly to dancing.”

“Just keep the lights on then.” The torch’s flame died out, leaving them at the mercy of the tunnel’s darkness. “Well what’re waiting for? Pretend it’s festival if it helps.”

~

“He won’t be sitting for a long time,” said the lanky lady, leaning back in her chair with her finger wrapped around a cup of tea. The other women in the circle laughed in a restrained manner, keeping their cups steady.

“I should think so,” said Luitgard, taking a sip. “What a cad. Though speaking of which, there’s been word all around the market about. Heard it right outside my window that there’s a couple of surface dwellers causing trouble.” The lanky woman with blonde hair raised her brow.

“Mister Adlfin was taking up to see the Dame. I saw him passing through,” said a wrinkled lady with grey hair tied back. “Such monstrous things. Hear they’re causing all sorts of trouble for her.”

Luitgard set her tea down. The entire circle faced her like a jury about to announce her guilty.

“Now best you don’t get any ideas, Luitgard. You hear stories about those types all the time,” said the lanky woman. She waggled her finger and others nodded.

Luitgard tapped her chin. All the stories came from this very circle, so they all had to be true. On the other hand, if it was causing problems for the Dame, then it had to be worth the risk. After all, the most memorable of all the stories was that Loraken were not known for their smarts. She wondered if they could be useful idiots.

“I’ll be fine, Mileda. You know I’ve always got protection,” she said, chuckling. She patted the waist of her skirt, where a tiny sack was hanging. She collected her hand basket from beside the door and left.

“I’ll be coming with you,” said Mileda.

Luitgard shook her palms, but Mileda locked her arm with hers. “I insist on it. I’ll catch up with the rest of you later. Thanks for the tea, Bethet.”

The pair strode through the market, still close together.

Luitgard knew Mileda had other reasons to join her than just friendship. Wherever they were discontent in the city, she, Corinna, or Eldie were snooping around. They fancied themselves as heroes of a common man, even if it was badly kept secret they sold their information to Franvoskin’s seediest. Being friends with Mileda made her privy to the latest gossip. Soon it felt like she was leading the way forwards.

They searched the market plaza at a leisurely pace, stopping by the mushroom stalls and the jeweller’s, on the convenient hunch that Loraken might be very curious about Freckled Caps or rubies.

Luitgard’s eyes were catch by a spark in the distance, which she thought of as ethereal gemstones. A cautious few were watching from a safe distance.

“That must be them,” said Mileda. “I’ve seen their dancing before… when I was on the surface.” The women making the sparks had a desperate and tired face. Her arms flopped and the lasts bright sparks fizzled out.

Luitgard slipped through for a closer look. The woman’s clothes were almost as dazzlingly as her magic. Luitgard had to the resist the temptation to grabbed all her wealth and ask for her tailor.

“What’s wrong with them? They look positively terrified.” Mileda held her chin in a way that made her look more intelligent.

“Those Loraken have really bad eyes, so they can’t see in here. I’d reckon it’s all that sunlight they get, that thing almost blinded me.”

“Must be why they look so dirty. Does nasty stuff to the skin I hear.” Luitgard stroked her face, grateful for the discovery of hygiene.

She inched forwards, clearing her throat.

“Who’s there!?” shouted the beastly man, jumping up and staring in the women’s general direction, off by a metre. “I can hear you, so don’t try anything!”

“Good… good gutta, mister,” said Luitgard.

“Is that good day?” he asked, stumbling over a small rock. Mileda grabbed him slowly by the arm and pulled him up.

“Yes, I believe it’s a good day,” she said, with uncertainty. “My friend’s been digging around for you. She’s a little to the left.” The man hobbled around, still not looking right at her.

“Well now, I was just curious, but we’ve been hearing the most interesting tales. You’ve been in a meeting with Dame Horowit.”

“I’d hardly call it that,” he bellowed.

Luitgard knew his frustration all too well. The man kicked his feet, launching a few pebbles against the tunnel wall. “That Dame of yours won’t listen at all.”

“She’s not really our Dame, if you understand my meaning. You might be pleased to know you’re not the only people in this city who aren’t best pleased with her.” She turned her head both ways, finding none of the guards lurching in the area.

“How’d you know all this?” asked the horned woman.

Luitgard and Mileda rolled their tongues, with messy attempts at words falling out. After fumbling around they tapped their noses. Much like magician’s and spies the socialites of Franvoskin were forbidden to give way their methods, especially to outsiders.

“It looks like you’re having a hard time getting along down here. You could certainly use a friend, couldn’t you? My house has room for the pair of you if you're looking for a place to stay.” The man perked up suddenly. Luitgard smiled back, certain he was willing to take the offer.

“That’s certainly kind, for a heathen,” said the woman, her tone like a prodding finger in the face. “What’re you up to?”

“She’s not up to anything I bet,” said her partner. “She’s just being nice, givin’ us a roof.”

“You'll be like my tenants.” She offered her hand for a shake, but he went blank at the gesture. When she saw his hands she suddenly realised that perhaps it was not the right way to introduce herself.

“You think we’re born yesterday?” The woman grabbed her partner by the collar of his clothes and dragged him away from Luitgard.

“Weren’t you born on the surface?” Luitgard’s feet twirled as she grew self-conscience about realising that yesterday did not sound like a place. A pox on their surface words, she thought.

“What my friend means to say is that we just want to assist you…. It’s for a mutual benefit. We think the Dame could do with a bit of humbling ourselves, but don’t be too loud about tell people.” Mileda smiled deviously, though Luigard defiantly agreed with the sentiment. The Loraken however, had the look of docile animals about them. They needed someone to herd them.

“Are you two like usurpers or something?” asked the man.

“Why don’t you pop round, I’m heading home right now as it were.” The beasts were unresponsive. “I’ve got some light at home, if you’ll be needing it.”

~

Luitgard led Ganjin by the hand, and he led Enkhaa. They slivered between a pair of pillars towards her house. The three slammed to a halt with a heavy clink. Ganjin’s horns had collided with top edge of the doorway. Luitgard tugged harder.

Ganjin recalled his mother's warning and ducked under the archway.

There was second bump with Enkhaa now anchoring them to the door. Ganjin became stretched as Luitgard kept pulling. He heard Enkhaa’s horns scrape as she lowered herself under the door.

Ganjin sniggered like a little prankster. He was aimlessly slapped on the collar.

It was said in the code of good faith that one should compliment a host’s dwelling upon first entering, but in the dark Ganjin could see nothing to praise. Luitgard released him and her footsteps grew distant.

Ganjin crept around the room. His arm brushed against a smooth object that slipped and shattered on the stone floor. He dashed back, smacking a second thing to its doom. Luitgard’s footsteps stormed back.

“What are you doing!?”

“I can’t bloody see a thing in ‘ere! What is all this anyway!?” He heard Luitgard scamper around the room, followed by what sounded like the pouring of sand onto metal. There was bright blue flash as a flame burst into life. It was sitting in a bowl in Luitgard’s hands. It bathed the room in an intense blue coating. The room was in fact a workshop, full of pots, statues, and tools neatly placed on shelves along the walls. In the middle was a chunk of unworked stone.

Ganjin looked down, despairing that he had probably broken the most expensive item in the shop. He hoped Luitgard did not subscribed to the ‘you break, you buy” philosophy.

“We’ve caused you enough trouble, so we’ll be on our way,” said Enkhaa, backing up to the door.

“Back into the darkness,” said Ganjin, nodding at the flame. “You must’ve some high hopes.” He scouted out the store-front with fascination. He picked up a vase and inspected it in the round. The smoothness was sensuous and the lighting brought out the earthy veins spread on the surface. “You make these yourself, Luti?”

“It’s a bit of a family business, but there’s only me now. We’ve been moulding the lapis since five generations ago. You can find our work across the finest palaces of the isles.” She scooted up closer to Ganjin. “Even the Ankhaa’s bought a few. Perhaps I could interest you in buying.”

Ganjin put his hands in his sleeves, smiling. It seemed there were some familiar ways in the cold caverns.

In the dim reflection of the vase he spotted Enkhaa’s face, which was more sour than bored. He slid the vase back and started watching her expectantly.

“How long you plan on ogling them for?” she asked.

Ganjin chuckled at how direct she was about it. “Of course she might be rich, but this place is awfully cramped. Where would we stay?” Luitgard’s face scrunched up.

Ganjin scratched himself. It was an elephant in the room, he thought. Loraken preferred to live is large family homes, even in the smallest villages the homes were built to be spacious. “It’s hardly befitting someone of her apparent success, don’t you think?”

“How about you just say what you mean,” said Ganjin, his eyes drifting across the shelves.

“Can’t you tell she just wants to use us? I won’t be slaving for some heathen. Elder Haren Daar would have no end to the punishments.” Enkhaa appeared vaguely distressed on the last line.

“Aren’t we just doing the same? You don’t get something for nothing you know.” Ganjin wondered whether is a matter of faith, or just Enkhaa’s lazy approach to life which made her so reluctant. She began rummaging around her pack and then the shop. She stripped the torch of its old wrapped and replaced it with whatever she scrounged up. She dipped into the bowl and stole a piece of Luitgard’s blue flame. “Leave if you want, but I ain’t following. Quite like it here myself.”

“What’s so bad about being out there?” she asked, her voice softening up slightly. “It’s free.” Ganjin pouted his lips.

“Don’t push it.”

Enkhaa left with no other fanfare or argument.

Ganjin’s shouldered drooped. He still wanted to explore the tiny shop.

“Shouldn’t you go after her?” asked Luitgard, curiously.

Ganjin shrugged. If your name was not Haren Daar you would have a hard time getting her to do anything.

~

The flickering blue flame had not lost any strength. Enkhaa’s intuition told her it was using magic to be so potent, which only made her more suspicious of Luitgard. Anyone who did not follow Hakuyankh who harnessed the spirit granted powers was a witch, a dangerous and power hungry rogue. The flame felt cold. Not icy, but her fingers wrapped around the torch were starting to feel numb.

She wafted through the marketplace with no particular destination in mind. There had to someone in this city with the sense to understand spirits. Surely not everyone in this city could be blind, she thought, mentally laughing at the irony.

“Oi! Stop right there!” A stumpy guard hobbled through the darkness.

Enkhaa gritted her teeth. “Care to explain what those are?” He pointed at her sashes.

She tapped the handles of her ancestral horns, unable to spit out her excuse fast enough. “The Fourth Franvoskin Arms Act states—“

“I know, I know. They’re not weapons. Now please—“

“Resisting arrest is strictly forbidden.” The guard put his hands on his hips.

Enkhaa blew a long puff of air. “We’ll sort you out at the post.” The guard pulled out a truncheon. He had a look on his face as to suggest he had few moral qualms with hitting a woman.

She stood firm, looking down with contempt. The guard then pulled out a stretch of rope from his belt. “Hands out, or I shall resort for force!” He waved the truncheon above his head.

“Sergeant Hagdingroth, something amiss?” called a familiar voice from behind. Adlfin was apparently on a pleasure walk through the market. Hagdingroth stood to attention.

“I was apprehending this woman for possession of dangerous tools, Captain.”

“I’m afraid the mistake was mine. An exception has been made for our foreign dignitaries. Go about your duties, perre. I’ll buy you a drink next time.”

“Yessir!” Hagdingroth marched off.

Enkhaa ignored Adlfin.

“It’s not safe to be in the market alone, ‘specially if you can’t see. Muggers and bogsters, nasty business if you’re new.”

Enkhaa nodded silently, trying to get away. “Speaking of which, terribly sorry about all that up the palace.”

“Is there something I can do for you, Adi?”

“Was just passing through.”

Enkhaa wondered whether that also meant he too planned on being rude and ignorant this time. It occurred that he was taking a long time to pass through, so she began purveying the stalls instead of heeding his presence. Maybe it was the flame, but all the fabrics seemed very dull in colour to her.

There was a faint rumble over their heads. She assumed Yokaanmogor was angry again. Angry at her failure to please its lords and masters.

“It’s much worse above ground,” she said. Adlfin frowned, staring at the ceiling. She put on the better attempt at a weepy voice she could, aiming right for his heart. “The children are scared each night. And the Elders, they run around dazed and without answers.” Not that it was different most other incidents.

Adlfin sputtered and nervously played with his fingers.

“So are you staying in the city?” he asked, in a hurry.

Enkhaa smirked. Many times she had caught wind of Haren Daar speaking with the locals, and she knew what a sudden change of topic meant.

“Ganjin’s found someone. Luti… Luitgard’s her name.”

“Ah, I’d be careful,” said Adlfin. “Not the person you want to be around if you want to get on Her Ladyship’s good side.”

Enkhaa was suddenly curious to learn more.

“How so?” she asked.

“Too much to tell I’m afraid. She used to get to the palace a lot, but she mixed with the Dame like Cheretide and Kidney Horns. You know how it is, you knock back a drink too many. One trout-faced hag comment later you’re out on backside being kicked down every step.”

“Those big one?”

“Aye. It’s the tradition. Palace Law, section eight, paragraph three clearly states the Lord of the Mountain has the right to boot the unruly down the steps.”

Lucky she didn’t try invoking that rule before, thought Enkhaa. But at least she could be sure Luitgard was in fact more likely to be on their side than the Dame’s.

“And what about this Ganbold Karn I’ve heard of. What’s he got to say about all this?”

“Ah, old Ganbold? Been here since the time of Lord Horowit. Like sword and shield those two were.”

Enkhaa approached another tunnel. “Are these busy? They look comfy enough.”

“It’s the fourth mining tunnel, dear. If they get hungry down there it will. Not that I’d let you sleep there.” Adlfin tapped his foot.

“There’s no temple here, and my teacher wouldn’t permit me to take the generosity of a heathen.”

“We might be able to squeeze you into a cell.” Adlfin chuckled, clutching his stomach.

Enkhaa gave into the desire to smirk.

~

The back room of Luitgard’s shop was no less cramped.

Ganjin compacted himself as he sat at the round, stone table. A candle had been lit in the middle, radiating a more mundane orange. Luitgard finished rummaging the shelves and brought out a pair of plates.

What Luitgard must have thought was an acceptable meal left Ganjin boggled. Three brown capped mushrooms and a small chunk of black meat with something leathery attached. He poked it, squishing it.

“Don’t play with your food. My bat’s as good as anyone else’s.”

Ganjin groaned, eyeing the knife and fork.

“I was hoping we could move onto business soon. Time is money you know.” Luitgard tilted her head sideways, raising one brow.

“To be completely honest, I’m a bit short on money.” Luitgard’s avoided eye contacted.

Ganjin picked up the fork and twirled it in front of his face. He jabbed into the bat cooked bat. The taste was stringy and tangy. He used to think that meat was meat, and that it all basically tasted the same. The leathery wing was bursting with a bizarre flavour which sent his tongue in retreat. It was no surprise that Luitgard was so pathetically willowy herself. A starving wolf would find little to chew off her.

Ganjin swallowed the meek meat, his attention returning to money.

“Ugh… where does it all go? Money that is.” He dwelt on what was left on the plate. He could swear those caps were deadly poison. “I know where they aren’t going, for sure. But wealth gives a man worth, so if we could get some then that Dame would notice us.”

“I’ve got just the plan that might work. How are you giving gifts?”

Ganjin leaned back. “When we celebrate a special event we give presents to the people we know. And I know the Dame’s quite partial to a certain kind of gift. I know, odd to think that curmud-faced foreigner has a liking for anything. Rotten, egotistical type of hack.”

Now Ganjin was really confused. Why would anyone give something to an enemy, unless it was a swift uppercut or impalement on the horns?

“Won’t work,” he said, before returning to his mushroom harassing.

“If it’s too her liking you’re invited to the palace to give to her in person. Then you butter her up and it’s smooth from then onwards. It’s the only way someone like you is ever going to get invited.”

“Could’a brought yak milk for that. Plus some cheese wouldn’t go unloved around this table.” He pushed a mushroom around with the fork. “Besides, I’m sure if Enkhaa were here she’d say something about not giving presents to heathens. We’re meant to be teaching you about honouring the spirits. What’re you’re suggesting’s so odd, I don’t think the code even says anything about it.”

As if on cue Enkhaa barged into the room, heralded by the blue glow of her torch. She sat legs crossed by the table, not even looking around for another chair. Luitgard looked at her gloomily.

Of course, she upset Enkhaa didn’t even say hello, thought Ganjin. Some people are just ill mannered like that. He gave her little notice apart from a sly grin. It only ever a matter of time until she took the easiest way out.

“What’d think, Enkhaa? We alright to give presents to that Dame?”

“How’d expect me to know? When’s it night, I could do with some winks.” She began shedding layers, throwing her coat and the black and white sashes to the floor. The sweetly scent of her sweat bloomed frothed from the discard garbs, mixed with the ancient dust from the coat.

Luitgard pushed her plate away and stood up. She fetched a candle, just like the kind Adlfin had. She held it to the table’s candle.

“Well why don’t you rest? I’m not tired at all.” Enkhaa fell back, laying her head into her hands as a pillow. Luitgard put the sleeping candle on the table. Her eyes suddenly darted at Ganjin’s unfinished plate. “Mister Ganijn, those are to be eaten.”

Ganjin picked up a mushroom on his fork and sniffed it. It smelled unappetising, so he concluded it must be deadly. He raised his head, encountering an unamused Luitgard.

“Don’t give me that. You trying to kill me with these!?” Luitgard’s body looked tense as he maintained a restrained posture, like she wanted to slump with her elbows on the table but just could not. “I mean it, you should probably spit it out yourself.”

“Poppycock! Just pinch your nose if you don’t like it!”

Ganjin too her advice, eating the mushroom in one bite while sealing his nostrils. He assaulted the rest of the meal, sweeping it down into his gut before they got he got a chance to taste it. He heard Luitgard grumbled. “Beastly.”

Is that a bad thing? Ganjin dropped the fork onto the plate and yawned.

“You got a lot of pretty vases. Can’t you just give her one of those?”

“I did… once.” Luitgard gripped the rim of the table, scratching her nails in.

Ganjin was about to speak, but she shook her head. He had rarely seen this kind of resentment.

“Sounds like she doesn’t want gifts after all.”

“We need a better one.”

“That’s gonna cost us a lot I’ll bet.” He doubted Luitgard would spend much money helping him with this hair-brained scheme unless she was truly devoted. Who honestly would? Ganjin loathed the thought of putting on his hard earned wealth, what little of it he had, on such a backwards plan.

“Everyone knows the best gift is the one you make yourself.”

“Don’t look like you can make better. I certainly, but not you and nor Enkhaa for sure.… So I’d bet I’ll be doing the leg work.” For no monetary value that felt like stabbing himself. He clutched his groaning gut. Or maybe that’s just the mushrooms coming back to torment me, he thought. “Nope. There’s gotta a better away about it, Luti,” he said, pained. “You sure they were safe for—“

“Luitgard, or Miss Janfurs please.”

“Oh don’t worry, I rarely miss,” said Ganjin. The flame on the candles began to dance in strange patterns. The candles were moving mysteriously. As was the plate, it was waving up and down. He slammed his hand, trying to stop the plate’s jiggling. He missed by a long shot. He threw his hand again, smacking the stone table. “Damn it! Why won’t dis jus stop movin’!?” His mouth was flooded with salvia.

“Have you gone mad!? Calm it or leave.” Luitgard’s face was starting to move all funny.

Ganjin released a droning cry. Maybe it was the bat instead. Those hairy little birds were the worst, he thought. He tried to stand, but his legs bent in ways he thought were impossible. “I heard Loraken were all warriors. Most amusing to see you’re quite the lightweight.” Luitgard covered her mouth to giggle. It was a very high class sort of laughter that grated against his ears.

Ganjin tripped over his seat and banged face first onto the hard floor. He bounced straight back up.

His sight was fogged by miserly colours. Stumbling around, he banged his knee on the table. “Gah! Fak it!” He could feel Luitgard’s hand wrapped around his wrist, but her face was nothing but a blur. His stomach seemed like it could burst open any second.

His strength finally gave way to delirious discomfort. He sat back on the floor. A tide of vomit was forcing its way up his throat. He slapped his hand over his mouth. It was futile effort.

[Shuuda]

Chapter Five

Ganbold Karn staggered half-drunk through on of the palace’s many mess halls. He balanced a plate of a grill bats and centipedes in the one hand and a bottle of spice in the other. The lustrous hall, with its sky blue dome, was half full of councillors and servants munching on meals that were only slightly finer than what the peasants in the city ate. There was not much in the way of choice underground, unless you considered the millions of insect species to be a choice.

At the far wall of the hall was Salbrin, sat in the company of a young councillor who if Ganbold recalled rightly was in charge of the city mines, and Felitr, who was engaged with the Dame in their ritualistic bout of modest flattery. He would compliment her on how young and vigorous she looked, and she would thank him. Like a lot of rulers, Salbrin likely looked older than her years.

Ganbold slotted his plate beside the councillor and shifted his plastered legs around the stool.

“Please to meetcha!” Ganbold Karn shouted. He screwed the lid off his bottle and drowned his meat in the red cloud of spice. The wise and generous Ankhaa Kuru sent him the most intense spices to help him cope with the stringy, weak tasting meals. Everything on his plate had been coated with red powder. The Mine Councillor beside him wafted the cloud and dived into a fit of coughing.

“Charmed, as always, Sir Ganbold,” said Salbrin, with no hint of sarcasm.

“Might you allow me to try some again?” asked Felitr, holding out an ink stained hand. He had not touched his meal of mushrooms and grimy, grey paste.

“It’s Jinsai Peutlin of Jaji, not for the faint of heart.” He passed the bottle and threw a piece of bat wing into his mouth. Tears instantly welled up and his lips curled. “De… delightful.”

“What brings you here? Don’t you usually eat elsewhere?” asked Salbrin, in a prodding tone. Usually, Ganbold ate in the company of her husband, Lord Orion, but neither wanted to make it too public.

“It crossed my ears that our special guests are staying the city.” He raised his voice to compete with the whimpers as Felitr swallowed a mushroom coated in Jaji demonic spice. The Mine Councillor rolled his eyes and sighed.

“What of it?” asked Salbrin, barely lifting up her head.

Ganbold scratched his chin, biting his lower lip.

“A dangerous little predicament we’ve got on our hands, don’t you think? A society not ready for the day to day violence of my brethren is likely to run into trouble.” He tried to keep a straight face on.

“You sound almost proud.” Salbrin finally saw fit to push aside her meal and discuss business.

Ganbold Karn masked his little grin with another helping of spicy bat. “I won’t back down to a pair of brotcases. What do you think people would say if I started bending over backwards like that? The council would vote me out for a start.” They both looked to the councillor at the table, who was trying to make stealthy getaway. He froze the moment eyes were laid upon him.

“Surely it could do no harm to keep the drilling on hold for at least a little while so we can sort this mess out?”

Salbrin’s face said everything for her. “Traitor,” it said.

Ganbold Karn bowed his head apologetically. The tears were just from the spices however.

“Would the Dame consider such a thing? For a time?” His voice grew desperate. The councillor gave a curious murmur at the last word. Wights who spent their whole lives underground had only a vague concept of time. Mostly it involved sleep candles and ageing. However, Salbrin had the benefit of having visited the surface many times and had a better grasp than most.

“Three passings of the your sun. If that puts it in a way you can understand,” said Salbrin, sounding uncertain. “But this is only to prove Ragulir is innocent. I refuse to concern myself with the delusional rambling of your brontic friends.”

“Perhaps a more formal meet is in order,” said the councillor, twiddling his thumbs. “I think the rest of us would wish to hear their case, Your Ladyship.”

“I’ve already got a plan prepared for dealing with them.” She leaned to the left.

Ganbold Karn heard a stomping and a heavy panting. Adlfin was rushing to the table. The constant trips up and down the stairs were weighing his black bags.

“You summoned me, Your Ladyship?” He supported himself using the table.

“Ah yes, I thought now would be a good time to hand down your reassignment. I believe it’s far fitting, as you insisted on bringing his menial problem to my attention.” Adlfin fumbled as he saluted.

“Whatever the Dame desires.”

“It’s a simple task, one even a colkt like you should be capable of. I need someone to keep an eye on those animals…. Make sure they don’t break any of our dear laws. You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes, O’ Dame!” shouted Adlfin, forgetting his indoors voice. Salbrin clasped her hands together smiled a smile that expressed little joy.

Ganbold rapped his fingers against the table top, catching her attention.

“Might I make a request?” Salbrin nodded. “I would much like to join Sir Rocgit in his new task. If it’s your plan to keep our friends busy then I could happily keep them entertained for many a day.” It had been too long since he had enjoyed the company of his own kin. His heart and horns were aching to leave the palace and meet them. “And I’ll keep them from doing any dangerous. I’m the only man here capable of that.”

The air in the hall becalmed as everyone turned silent. Salbrin was the most foreboding of all, casting a sinister gaze on Ganbold.

He felt like he was about to be called out for treason, or for that extra helping of bat he snuck out last meal. His sweat beat onto the table.

“That’s a brilliant idea, Sir Ganbold,” said Salbrin, very lacking in emotion.

Ganbold downed the last scrap of bat. His eyes leaked like broken dams. He leapt up, his wobbly, drink addled legs, slow on the uptake to balance him. The rest of him was filling with enthusiasm.

“C’mon, Adi! Up to it!” He slapped his new workmate over the shoulder.

~

A powerful, unpleasant smell brought Luitgard’s eyes to open. She sat up in her bed and looked at the melted candle on the iron dressing table. After a brief stretch she slipped out of the sheets and rummaged the wardrobe for a shirt and skirt. She pulled on a white skirt and a vest over that. The skirt was her favourite, with a watery pattern around the lower hemline. She turned to the full length mirror to inspect herself in the murky reflection. She straightened her hair out with her hand. When she patted down her skirt a faint cloud of blue dust arose. No matter how much she washed them her clothes were covered in fine lapis. Her lungs were coated in a layer of it already, so it never bothered her.

The waking up ritual was interrupted by chanting from the workshop.

Luitgard recalled all the other times they had woken her in the past sleep with their brutish nonsense. She stormed through the next room to see what was getting her guests fired up over this time.

Ganjin and Enkhaa were huddled around a small bowl. They were tossing in cuttings of mushrooms and meat as Enkhaa spoke complete gibberish. Ganjin took two pieces of flint and began scratching them together above the mixture.

Luitgard swiped the bowl away, spilling the contents.

“Just what are you doing now!?” She tapped her foot. Only Ganjin paid attention, Enkhaa kept on tending the bowl.

“We’re asking Sonacyahne for guidance,” said Ganjin, recovering the offering rolled around the room. “He's the wisest of all the Geshunfaii.”

“Can’t you just send a letter?”

“He can only appear through an offering,” said Enkhaa, clapping her hands in a slow beat.

Luitgard had heard from her circle about these rituals, that they were wild and decadent. “Not that one could find anything to offer the wisest spirit down here. But I surely having brought something with me will display my foresight to him.” Ganjin leapt up and tried to take the bowl off Luitgard. The mighty Loraken thrust her around like a dangling vine was attached to the rim of the bowl. After going to and fro he eventually gave up in a huff of annoyance.

“What would next door think if they saw this? I’d have the guards here and everything.” The guards never had good news whenever they visited, especially when you were Salbrin’s punch bag. She could get away with inviting some odd looking guests to stay, that was good manners. She dropped the bowl on the table, stepping away from the Loraken. They started given indignant looks. I might have well have just murdered someone, she thought. But if I let them then next think I know they’ll be doing sacrifices in here. “I absolutely forbid this in my house.”

“You can’t tell someone not to honour our ancestors and spirits! That’s ridiculous! You'll being terrible punishments down on us!”

“It's my house, so they’re my rules.” Ganjin relaxed, kneeling back down like a dog. However, a venom air still floated between them. “Very good.”

“So what can we do, if we’re to forsake our spirits?” asked Enkhaa.

“Don’t give me that. This is a friendly store, and I’ve got to open up soon.”

“Well then… if that’s the problem then we can just go somewhere else,” said Ganjin. “We need to make amends to that river as well.”

“You can’t do your ranting while people are bathing.” Luitgard had the image of the young men too nervous to go about their business with two beastly figures preached at them from the banks. Certainly would have had her scared when she was a boy.

“Is there some dank pit we can use?” asked Ganjin, gritting his teeth.

Luitgard ran through the map in her head. All the mine pits were still in use. Wichts were efficient with space. Wasting it just meant more needless digging out.

“If you promise to be quiet about it, you can do it in the back room.” Her voice was jittering. “But no one can see it. You’ve got to promise me.” Her guest shook their heads.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” said Enkhaa, in a low but chiding tone.

Luitgard began sputtering, unable to utter a rebuttal. “Is there anything you won’t oppress us for?”

“Enkhaa’s right. Nothin’ wrong with praying.” They both stood up and loomed over Luitgard. They were certainly tall, and dangerous looking. They were just a few inches away from having a bend over to see her eye to eye. Even the usually mundane looking Enkhaa was pulling a malicious face.

Luitgard tried to back away, but she quickly bumped into a row of pots. One slipped off the shelf and shattered with an echoing chime. Luitgard jumped and retreated to the counter. Her guests did not lift a finger to her, but instead they began smiling at each other. “So we’re good to pray here, Luti?”

Luitgard chose not to answer. It was not a question. She reached for a hand basket in the corner and put on a brave face. Her guests placed the bowl back on the floor. “I’m just off to do some shopping before I open. Why don’t you two finish up your little prayer before I get back?”

“Of course, Luti. We’ll just be a few moments,” said Ganjin. Having just full of menace and blood thirst mere seconds ago, now her guests were acting amiable.

If anything it only made her more afraid of them now. They took no more notice of her or her fretting.

She hurried out of her house, almost tripping through the door cover. Her neighbours poked their heads out of their window. Their words were muffled by the air rushing past Luitgard's ear was she ran down the row of houses.

When she was far enough as to be sure they could not hear her she began resting against the stone wall of the grand cavern. Stiff upper lip, stiff upper lip, she told herself. She straightened her back and took a sobering breath. It was just a moment of weakness, she thought. Next time she would show them, which was definite.

~

Ganjin slouched over the counter beside the candle. Luitgard was stood in the middle of the workshop, moving around a slab of rough stone. She pelted it with a hammer and chisel, raining specks of dust on the floor.

He wondered when she was going to get down to explaining that plan all over again. It still had his horns in a knot. But at the same he was immersed in watching her crafting. The stone was turning from jagged and chaotic to smooth and orderly. Luitgard was giving him the silent treatment. She seemed devoted to the hunk of stone . As it began to take shape her blows became tender and precise.

“So, what’s this gift we’re meant to be making?” Luitgard gave a cold shoulder, turning her back as she carried on working the stone. “Was it something I said?” he asked.

“Nothing you said,” she replied, in a deadpan voice.

He rested his elbows on the surface and glared at the back of her head. He eventually gave up on burning her hair with stares and came around the counter before dropping to his knees. He leaned forwards until the tips of horns were pressed against the floor. He was glad Enkhaa was not around to witness this. It was a low moment in his life.

“I would be happy it Luti- I mean Luitgard gave me her help!” He could hear her feet bring her around. Ganjin lifted his head, finding her blue skirt a foot away.

“Stand up, Ganjin. You’re so unsightly.”

He bounced to his feet. Jumping these hoops has his face glowing hot and angry, but it was all for profit. “I suppose it’s the closest I’ll get to an apology out of you colkts.”

“Yes, that’s what I was saying!” Ganjin did not know what he was meant to be sorry for, but at least she was on their side again. “Back to the old grind.”

“I’ll be putting in an order for some rare gemstones. We do trade with some humans.”

“That’ll take forever. You gotta have a ton of steel lying around, so why don’t I whip something up.” He pointed to himself with his right thumb. “You need to realise that I come from a long line of blacksmiths.” Of course, what he neglected to mention was that there were a lot of lines of smiths. But his was special, no doubt about. The spirit of metalwork had blessed them with countless triumphs, in the past at least.

“Well that should mean you’re strong enough to work the mines.”

Ganjin scratched his head. The actual mining did not sound bad at all. A very tough pursuit was digging the rock, which he imaged it would build his muscles up so he could slog Brecka Jan square in the nose when he got back home.

“How’s digging meant to help?”

“How else are we going to pay for this? Plus all these candles you’re using aren’t free… It’s plum embarrassing to have’t buy so many. The shopkeep must think I’m sick by now. You and Enkhaa can work in the mine…. We let foreigners do it too, and I’ll keep selling my ornaments.”

“Pay, why didn’t you say so!” Making money was making progress, so suddenly the suggestion made a world of sense to him. “How much does it give?” he asked, rubbing his greedy hands together.

There was a tink outside, by the door, followed by “anyone home?”

“We’re open, Sir,” said Luitgard. She patted her hands, unleashing a dust cloud on the workshop. “Be polite to our customer, Ganjin.” He moved to the naughty boy corner.

The figure was so tall that he had to bend at the waist to get under the door. When he stood straight again his horns scrapped the ceiling. His clothes were many and lustrous. There were blacks, and reds, and flowery pinks with trailing sleeves and golden trinkets. The bases of his horns were decorated with silver that dazzled against his black locks.

Ganjin knew without question of the man’s place in the world. If he was not a champion or great warrior, which was evident in his posture and overwhelming confidence, he still had to be important. He could be an avatar to Barchji, the war spirit1. The sight of his kind was not rare in his backwater village, but they only ever showed up at festivals to visit the temple.

“You there.” The figure pointed at Ganjin. “You’re Ganjin, no?”

“Right. Denja Ganbold Karn, I’m most honoured.” The two stood with their chests just inches away from each other. Ganbold Karn grinned and slapped Ganjin’s left arm.

The blacksmith hit back, laughing.

A familiar clank of metal entered the shop. Ganjin could not see past Ganbold, but he had a guess that it was Adlfin.

“A pleasure to see you again, Miss Luitgard.”

“Nice to see you,” said Luitgard, in a voice Ganjin knew well. The kind one used when they did not like the customer they were serving. “What’s it going to be now?”

“Now that you mention it, we’ve got some lovely Fire Warts at the barracks. Another pot would be a grand haul.” Adlfin began eyeing the rows of vases, all made of the gleaming blue stone.

Ganjin waited anxiously for him to pull more law nonsense on him. There just had to be something. Maybe he was wearing the wrong footwear for houses or his hair was too scruffy. His beard was not tidy enough.

“The Dame sends her fine regards,” said Ganbold, shaking his fist.

Ganjin was certain he was lying, but he began feeling some pity for Ganbold. He could see him only as a noble beast trapped in a tiny cage. “Sir Rocgit and I are here to give you our warmest welcome. We get few visitors from back home.”

“It’s true. Her Ladyship wishes only for peace with your people,” said Adlfin, still purveying the pots.

Ganjin sniffed another lie, though he was not sure whether he would even want peace with her. Luitgard rolled her eyes, putting her tools away behind the counter.

“So, Denja Ganbold Karn, where’d you hail from?” From the dark tone of his skin Ganjin guested he came from the north westernmost islands.

“Moknonobe, but only by birth I’d say. I grew up in Harburke.” Lots of people from Harburke were the very high class type. Reengekhs of famed wisdom or skill, the kind who had never lost a single duel.

Enkhaa returned later, devouring the last remaining patch of free space in the workshop. Ganbold Karn showered his attention on her.

With two conversations happening at the same time, Ganjin felt left in the lurch. He tried to get by his partner’s side, knocking a pot along the way. It flew onto the floor, of its own accord Ganjin swore, and smashed. Luitgard gave him a deadly stare.

Ganjin’s limbs conveniently turned to mush at that point. As he slipped between Ganbold Karn and the shelves, he smacked into a small statue. He could only hope she only left the cheap stuff in the store-front.

Enkhaa and Ganbold were both engaged in a bowing contest. The lack of room meant their horns were almost touching.

“An honour to be the presence of such a scholarly shaman,” said Ganbold Karn.

“And you’ll be helping us get that woman to see things our way?” asked Enkhaa, though it sounded more like she was issuing a command. Ganbold was suddenly less chummy. He stood straight and looked down in a show of tallness.

“Forgiveness, but now’s not the time.” His voice was every bit as foreboding as one might expect from a man of his stature. Enkhaa was sweating, but her expression was still bored. She whipped out the horns of her ancestors, bearing their authority.

“Obviously, you’re as blind as the rest of these heathen clods. In fact, I’ve never seen you attend a festival at our temple. It’s close by… so is there something you want to confess to.”

~

The four of them loitered outside the store, listening in awkward silence as Luitgard swept up inside. Finally Adlfin broke the stalemate by reaching into his pack. He drew out a silver bottle and screwed off the lid. He poured the brownish beverage down his throat.

“No mushroom in that are there?” asked Ganjin. He was drawn to the watery patterns on the bottle, gleaming in the faint light of the city. “Looks good.”

“Try some, my friend.” He passed over the bottle and wiped his beard.

Ganjin savoured the chance to feel the smooth metal before putting his lips around the top. It was sweet and powerful, like drinking a woman bathed in perfume.

“A guard, drinking on the job.” Ganbold Karn chortled, smacking Adlfin on the back.

“The… the Service Law… Paragraph fourteen… fifteen states a guard is forbidden to drink on duty. I’m off duty!”

“You’ve never been off duty.”

“Pass it my way,” said Enkhaa, not bothering to even look in their direction.

Ganjin smiled and shook the bottle.

“Shamans are forbidden too,” He said. That did not stop her from sneaking a swig in the past, but Ganjin loved to tease her.

“Well… I’m off duty now as well.”

Enkhaa had discovered a wonderful new idea, he thought. She took only a few small sips before giving it back. “More importantly, what are we going to do about His Honour?” They looked over at Ganbold Karn. “He’s lost his mind completely.”

“Just another of that woman’s goons,” said Ganjin, in low voice just loud enough for others to hear. He was grabbed by the horns and pulled off the ground. His face was brought just inches away from Ganbold Karn, who possessed a dominant smile. “I didn’t say nothin’! Get off!”

“I ought to clobber you one, child.” Ganbold Karn threw him down.

“But… you know. It’s the law.” Ganjin brushed off his clothes.

“Wouldn’t want to displease master now, would we,” said Enkhaa.

Ganbold stood up and cracked his knuckles. “Not for me it ain’t. I’ve got diplo... diplomatic… what’s it called... immunity. So stand up and fight you little runt. I command you to duel.” He glanced both ways and then down at Adlfin.

Ganjin rose to his feet and stretched his arms and legs. It was the code that said a Reengekh could order a fight from anyone of a lower class. It was dishonourable to refuse, not that he would have thought about it in any case. The upside was if you won, the Reengehk had no choice to but reward you, either with money, his yaks, or his wife.

The two stood with their head bowing. Their horns interlocked for the fight.

Ganjin hedged his bets on Ganbold being rusty. Ignore any shaking, he reminded himself. Their eyes were on Enkhaa. She clapped her hands slowly, one, twice, begin.

Ganbold pushed to his right.

Ganjin dug his heels in. Ganbold pressed him down with monstrous strength. Ganjin’s knees wobbled and creaked.

He focused all his might in a single push, but he barely made more than a couple inches of ground. Ganbold’s head bolted down, smacking their foreheads together. Ganjin’s entire body ceased resisting and collapsed. His head was pounding and bruised.

He was desperate not to show any signs that he was actually hurting.

“Looks like I win that round,” said Ganbold, offering a hand to his fallen opponent.

Ganjin grabbed his hand in an effort to show grace despite his loss. All things given, the inviation to duel a man of his standing was a privilege. “Should’ve beaten some sense into you at least.”

“Yes, Denja.” He rattled his head, certain he could feel his brain knocking around. “Excellent fight! But don’t think it’ll be so easy next time…. I was just checking your abilities.” Next time would be different, he swore.

“Is that so?” Ganbold Karn slapped him over the back.

Ganjin looked around. The passing men and women gave either glances of fear or disgust, but none of them had come to put a damper on their pleasure. “Thanks for fight, boy. It’s been too long since I could let loose.”

“I suppose with the welcome over you’ll be off back to the palace,” said Enkhaa.

“Not likely… you know how many steps there are. I’ll be sleeping with the guards. Wouldn’t want you two to get into trouble round here, if you know what I’m saying.”

Ganjin was baffled by his man. He was obviously the genuine article, as his sore forehead testified. He dressed as a true noble, and strut like one with pride and power. But he was on their side. The side contrary to everything a Loraken should believe in. It made him hope he could find whatever fortune he could get his hands before it got him as well.

The door creaked opened. Luitgard quietly stepped out with the broom in both hands. She showed a particular disdain for the brawling Loraken.

“You’re scaring away the customers,” she said, seething.

Ganjin always thought a rousing rumble drew good crowds.

“Absolutely sorry, Miss Janfurs. I’ll make sure we don’t disturb your store again. I’ll even pay for the damages myself.” Luitgard smiled and stepped to the side as to invite them back inside.

“In that case, why don’t I offer tea? I can still afford the imported stuff.”

“I’ve got plan elsewhere,” said Enkhaa, looking very distant.

Ganjin was curious about what she could possibly be doing in the dark city, but by the time he gathered sense enough to ask she was already walking away with a torch in hand.

“Ever had tea, Ganjin? It comes from the human up east you know. It’s all they have up… or down in the palace. Good stuff.” Ganbold Karn patted him on the shoulder.

Ganjin did not feel like rejecting the fancy of the man who had so easily pounded the innards out of him. It was a basic survival instinct.

“Sir Rocgit, why don’t you make sure our other friend is well looked after?” Adlfin saluted and marched away without a single objection.

So much for being off duty, thought Ganjin.

~

The waterfalls feeding the subterranean river was the only opening to natural light in the entire city, and fortunately Wights preferred not to get caught in it. It was a peaceful place for Enkhaa to knee and pray. The crashing of water echoed throughout the tunnel.

She scooped up a piece of the river into the offering bowl and drowned a brown herb in it. This was an apology to the river spirit for polluting its body with her dirt. She pulled out her ancestor’s horns and dug them into the bank on opposite sides of the bowl. She leaned over the bowl and stirred with it her finger.

“A bizarre thing to run off for,” said Adlfin, his voice approaching from behind. She could only just make out what he was saying over the waterfall.

“Unless you’re here to join me then you’re welcome to leave.”

“I’m afraid it’s not allowed.”

She assumed he would not leave her alone because of whatever orders he was taking. “Wouldn’t want you to—“

“I never get in trouble.” She always did the absolute minimum required to evade trouble or criticism. Adlfin was acting aloof, but with a small curiosity for what she was doing. “Why don’t you sit down and pray with me. It’s good for you.”

“How so?”

Enkhaa was slow to pick out an answer. Surely it must be obvious, she thought, her eyes glancing back at the bowl to check none had spilt.

“Well, for one thing, you’ll find peace with the spirits. They’re awfully vengeful if you don’t please them you know. They cause all sorts of disasters and trickery.” Every Loraken child had been brought up on stories of mischievous or wicked spirits leading the ignorant into the deep, dark forests, or lost mountain roads where they would be lost for all eternity. As a shaman she was required by Haren Daar to engrave each one in the back of her mind. “Maybe if you all became a little more devoted then the mountain would cease shaking.” She suppressed her voice from sounding too fanatical. She realised quickly the Wights did not buy into that attitude.

Adlfin scratched his beard with a look of misunderstanding. He grumbled and cocked his brow.

“I’m trying to purify the river. It's my duty to maintain the peace between us and the spirits after you've been offending them.”

“Sounds mighty interesting. But it doesn’t look like you‘re really doing anything. I hear Loraken have massive parties… hear them from the city gates in fact once or twice. Big lights in the sky and singing.”

Those festivals were essentially very big, night long prayers. The very thing they were trying to protect. “I’m not sure if bowls and leaves can stop landslides.”

Enkhaa snorted. It was the reaction she expected from one of such small faith. She kept her finger swirling the mixture. “Maybe I could ask someone down at the palace to lend you a hand. They’ve got a lot of brainboxes there… not to mention some really smart people.”

“They’re all heathens, correct?” Adlfin nodded slowly. “They won’t be of use.”

“Lucky thing you didn’t try doing that down the other end.” Adlfin chuckled.

Enkhaa cringed. “Where all your filth goes.” It was revolting to toss all your dirt and muck into a pure and beautiful river. Aldfin whistled innocently.

“It’s gotta go somewhere. Besides, if you’re trying to purify the river, wouldn’t make more sense to do it from the other end…. Comes in pretty pure if you ask me.” Enkhaa’s face flushed. There was logic to what he was saying.

“I’m putting on a… protecting charm,” she said, rummaging for whatever excuse she could find not to pack up and drag herself to the other end.

“It certainly looks like you are. Like magic from an old storybook. Of course, I hope it’s nothing too magical… ‘cause I wouldn’t want to bring the law into this again.” He waggled his finger, and grinned.

Enkhaa wondered how much drink he had consumed.

“Very well, you won’t see a single flicker.” It was harder to concentrate with Adlfin breathing down her neck. He began whistling a happy tune, spoiling the peaceful atmosphere of the waterfall. But asking him to stop might incite another dullard conversation with him, which was the last thing she needed now.

She tried not to think about him, but she knew he was laughing at her. He just doesn’t get it, she thought, such hopeless people. “You still have that bottle?” she asked.

“All gone.” To prove it, Adlfin took out the bottle and shook it upside down with the lid off. “Got plenty at the barracks, which ain’t far off.”

Enkhaa gave him a weak smile, hoping she could play off his desire to be a good host. “I’ll go fetch for us. Hang on for a bit.”