“Care for a unique taste, miss?”

Less than five feet to her left, under an electric sign that read ‘Cosgulim’s Cosmopolitan Cuisine’ in vivid blue and purple Common, a stonehorn stood staring at their group with an inviting smile on his good-natured face.

Eve looked around in confusion.

The man had, by all appearances, mistaken her for a stonehorn. The clear note of invitation in his voice and the jovial smile that accompanied it could have no other explanation. Neutral indifference, she’d seen. Overwhelming hostility, she’d felt. And every other emotion in between. The open smile amid the ginger beard took her by surprise.

She shuffled her feet in hesitation. Kumil, however, was his usual effervescent self and struck up a conversation with the middle-aged man almost immediately, then promptly vanished into the dim interior.

Eve and Arjun shared an uncertain look.

Following Kumil’s example but with decidedly less exuberant feet, the two of them stepped into the small, cozy restaurant, barely ten feet wide and almost thrice as deep, holding several sturdy wooden square tables surrounded by chairs, into which they all plopped down in exhaustion. A quick glance assured her they were the only patrons present.

“A rare pleasure indeed, serving not just humans, but also a Master Engineer.” The man gave a bow, in the Aiminian manner. Deeper. The accent was unlike any stonehorn’s, and resembled the style of speech preferred by the people of Shillang, harsher than the Common Eve was used to in Eastern Aiminia.

“I’m Cosgulim, the proprietor,” he said, the corners of his keen dark-brown eyes creasing to form what her mother had affectionately called ‘Laughter Lines’. She’d possessed a few of her own. Eve pushed back the rising tide of grief as she recalled her mother’s eyes. Instead, she concentrated on their host, trying to determine why she’d almost immediately liked the man.

Probably she liked the impression of neat scruffiness he conveyed. A sense of contradiction, but in a good way. The unkempt ginger beard reached as far as his ample belly, while his hair of the same hue seemed to have endured a lifelong antagonistic relationship with combs. His polished bright red horns glittered even in the soft subdued electric lamplight.

“Today, unfortunately, we have fewer choices available for our clients, owing to the Nameday Event of Rodrugil celebrated the day before yesterday.”

“We understand,” said Kumil.

Eve didn’t, but she remained silent since she was too hungry to care. Right now, she felt as if every god came secondary to her stomach. She could always ask Kumil later.

Cosgulim cleared his throat, then brushing his immaculate leather coat, he began. “For appetizers, we have spiced paratha roll with fried beef fillings or small kachori stuffed with minced marinated mutton. As for the main course, I’m afraid there is only one option, though it’s a good one. Thukpa, which is a house specialty.”

Upon seeing the confused looks on Eve and Arjun’s faces, he elaborated, “It’s a kind of beef noodle soup with lots of vegetables. Can also be prepared using pork or chicken, if that’s your preference. There are two more choices available. Arunian chili beef and Shillang mutton korma. Though nominally side dishes, you should have them with the roll or kachori. Mix and match, and try to figure out what excites your tasebuds the most.” He gave a broad smile. “Experimentation is always encouraged. That’s how you discover new culinary delights, though the principle applies to life in general as well. As for dessert, we have Payesh, a unique combination of milk cream and rice popular in Ridmanya, perfect if you have a sweet-tooth, and last but by no means the least, Gulab Jamun, prepared in Jivanpur manner.”

“Cosmopolitan indeed!!!” said Arjun, almost salivating by the looks of him.

“I’ve already had an appetizer. Another, and I might just die of appetite,” Eve said. “I’ll go with the pork Thukpa and chili beef. And Payesh for dessert. Never tried any of them before, so should be an experience.”

Cosgulim beamed. “Then, I shall make certain it is an experience worth remembering. And savoring.”

“Kachori, mutton korma and chicken Thukpa, with Gulab Jamun,” was Arjun’s eager reply when Cosgulim’s inquiring eyes turned to him.

“What do you have for drinks?” Kumil asked, as usual more interested in liquid diet.

“Mead, lager and wine.”

“Mead for me. And kachori with beef Thukpa and chili beef. No dessert,” Kumil said.

“Mead,” Eve replied.

“Lager for me. Heard good things about Balgistin lager.”

Cosgulim bowed and hurried toward the back, vanishing through a door artfully hidden behind thick curtains.

For the next half bell they talked about Balgistin. The good, the bad and the ugly. The awe-inspiring mix of ancient and modern architecture that proudly displayed stonehornish ingenuity, and the racial prejudice prevalent among the majority of its citizens. Kumil did a lot more sighing than usual and Eve did more complaining than she was used to. Arjun mostly listened. Or asked questions. Often pointless, sometimes not. Like how many livers do stonehorns possess, or if there were Soul Crystal deposits near all stonehornish temples. Soon, tantalizing aromas started wafting through the back door and before long, their host reappeared with plates laden with food.

No sooner had Cosgulim left than the three of them dug in. The Thukpa wasn’t as spicy as Eve had hoped, but the chili beef more than made up for it. Midway through lunch, Arjun came up with another question, one Eve had wanted to ask herself, but it had slipped her mind.

“Always wondered how many festivals you have in a year.”

Kumil considered, still chewing, always with his mouth closed, Eve noted with interest. Then, he swallowed and took a large sip. More of a gulp, really. From his third glass of mead. Eve was still nursing her first.

“The gods’ Nameday Events.” He started counting off with the fingers of his left hand, ran out and started with the right. “Founding of Balgistin, Harvest Festivals, a couple of them.” He ran out of fingers and hands. “Four Celebration Days commemorating victories of the great kings over humans and aditarus, and then over the humans again,” he continued, grinning at the slack-jawed appearance of the two humans. “And the Jubilation Days for rediscovering three of the temples, now four.”

Eve was the first to pick her jaw off the table. “That’s like twenty festivals. Two a month. A festival every other week.”

“Sounds about right,” Kumil said between gulps.

“You know,” Arjun began after putting down his spoon, “I’ve never seen anyone drink as much during a meal as you do.” His tone contained no judgment, only curiosity. “Which I find interesting since most of your food already contains a lot of fluid.”

“What do you mean?” Kumil asked, and Eve braced herself for another tangent. But then again, some of Arjun’s tangents she was starting to enjoy, so who knows, this might be fun.

“Most Aiminian dishes, though by no means all, contain less fluid. Apart from dal, and other combinations of pulses and lentils, we have few recipes that contain as much fluid as say,” his eyes fell on Eve’s bowl, “soup. Most of the recipes in eastern, western and parts of southern Aiminia are based around rice and roti, or their variations, all of which are quite dry, requiring either thin gravy as a side dish, or dal, as I said.”

“Also, pretty much all curries are more….” Eve searched for the right word, “substantial than the ones we just had here. At least in eastern Aiminia.”

“Yeah,” Kumil gave a thoughtful nod. “Might be onto something. For instance, Arunians in general also prefer drier food. Paratha, kachori, thick spicy gravies. Aditarus also, though their diet contains less rice and higher proportion of plain bread. Or loaf, as we call it. All of them drink during meals, water mostly, but sometimes lager also. As for why I drink so much, it’s because I don’t. All stonehorns are fond of mead. Or ale. Or lager. Some wouldn’t mind a glass or two of wine either. This is how it is.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“This is how it has always been,” Arjun said, eyes full of understanding.

“Precisely.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to eating with spoons and forks,” Eve said, looking glumly down at the massive utensil placed in her bowl. She’d used spoons occasionally before, but never forks. Would make a half-decent weapon though, in case some fool attacked her during the meal.

“Custom of eating with your hands. Humans do it. Aditarus and stonehorns don’t. Never really gave it much thought before today,” Arjun said, brows furrowed. Then, his eyes cleared, and he locked his grinning eyes with the equally grinning half-stonehorn. “Because growing up, that’s how it always had been.”

“True. But it’s also related to climate, I think. Maha Aranya is moderate. Never too cold, but aditarus are sensitive to even moderately high or cold temperatures,” Kumil said. “Also, the nature and texture of the food. It’s hard to eat noodle soup with your bare hands.”

Arjun sat up straight, a happy smile on his face. “Conversely, eating roti with forks would take forever. Spoons would work with rice, but not if gravy, light curry, or dal is used as a side dish, as it often is. Mixing the two with spoons….” he shook his head.

“Never quite works as well as if you do it with your fingers,” Eve finished for him, earning an agreeing nod.

“An Alchemist explained it to me once, it has to do with chemistry….” Arjun continued, causing Eve to tune out.

Later, after Kumil had paid the bill – a respectable two silvers and one copper – Eve, on a sudden impulse, asked their host, “Your reception has been by far the warmest I’ve received since arriving in this wondrous city. Why do you think that is?”

Cosgulim’s reply had been more intriguing than anticipated.

“I don’t consider myself out of the ordinary when compared to any other stonehorn, except perhaps in one regard. I’ve seen more of the outside world than most. Travel has always been my passion, and I’ve been fortunate enough to be able to indulge in it. Saw a part of the harsh Aiminian Flatland. A tiny part; my heritage ensured anything more was impossible. The heat was unbearable. Visited the ancient city of Jivanpur, diverse Sangam with its majestic Twin Castle, even the vibrant Trade Cities. Witnessed the waves on the Boundless Sea first hand. Scared me witless,” he paused, collecting his thoughts for a moment. “Travel broadens the horizon of your mind, and afterward, certain things that had appeared vital before, seem almost…. Petty. Who cares which corrupt pompous blockhead becomes the next Mayor of Dubilstin when children are being abducted from the streets of Aimingar? And those are the lucky ones. When counting winters, I consider myself still young. Only hundred and thirty-one.”

Arjun almost choked on his lager.

Cosgulim gave a wry smile and continued, “Life is more than a sum of years. It is a sum of experiences. Travel opens the door to a whole new possible set of experiences. It is the key that breaks loose the shackles of intolerance.”

After their charming host departed, Kumil declared with a mischievous grin. “This just lends more credence to my theory?”

Eve wasn’t too fond of theories but Arjun, without a shadow of a doubt, was, and so his curiosity was instantly aroused. “Your theory being…?”

“We stonehorns need to get out more.”

Eve broke into laughter while Arjun simply smiled, nodding.

“I think I may even start a trend,” Kumil continued, the mirth having moved from his lips to his eyes and multiplied tenfold. “First student of stonehornish heritage ever to enroll at the University. A pioneer. Tales will be told of my great deeds in the land of our former foes and current and future allies.” He struck a pose; chest puffed out, face flushed, horns curved back, with square bearded chin and ruddy nose up in the air. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the dark-brown eyes. Gleaming with laughter. At himself.

“We’ll endeavor to make that lofty goal a reality by providing any help we can,” Arjun said, grinning ear to ear. “No great deed was ever accomplished alone.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Kumil acknowledged, thumping Arjun in the back.

“I’ll help by keeping you lot grounded when necessary,” Eve supplied.

“Oh, I’m always grounded. The piece of ground I’m standing on may be airborne at times, and hurtling toward the enemy after being thrown by an Earth Cleric, the Cleric being, hopefully, myself. But always grounded.” Kumil took out his pocket-watch. The resulting frown seemed to quickly disperse the slight fog of inebriation that had loosened his tongue, although how he was even conscious let alone conversant, was beyond Eve. She’d lost count after the eighth glass.

“Best get going. The depot’s not far. A quick stroll would clear our heads,” Kumil said.

“Yup. Wouldn’t want James to find us under the influence of alcohol in foreign land, would we?”

Eve snorted while heading for the exit on unsteady legs. “Picked the wrong foreign flaming land for that.”

Outside, the streets looked a bit busier, and dare Eve hope? a little less hostile. Kind words and a full belly can do wonders to the Heart Chakra. Mead doesn’t hurt either.

“Where to O Wise Master Engineer?” Eve asked, trying to concentrate on walking in a straight line.

“Depot’s this way,” Kumil said in an annoyingly sober tone and turned left, taking a narrower street, almost an alleyway by stonehornish standards.

“I’ve been thinking,” Arjun began, his words slurring slightly.

Eve sensed another question coming and hoped it wasn’t as bizarre as the last one. Why do stonehorns have so many gods? The answer from Kumil had been because they’ve always had this many gods. Eve had never seen Arjun so upset.

“I was under the impression that Balgistin stonehorns are allied to both the countries on either side of Kailash, and all racial hostilities lay firmly in the past,” Arjun said, some of the frustration both he and Eve had been feeling inevitably seeping into his voice. “Why then, in the name of Allfather, are they so overwhelmingly antagonistic? Barring a few like Cosgulim and you, of course. Natural stonehornish dislike for other species doesn’t quite account for this level of…enmity. Having said that, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m far from an expert in these matters, so tell me if I’m barking up the wrong tree.”

Their half-stonehorn guide’s reply lacked the usual humor. “There’s more than a grain of truth in what you’ve managed to surmise.”

Eve eyed Kumil to her right. That thoughtful frown was back on his face and he proceeded to form a sound shield, unnoticed by most passers-by. Those that did take note looked downright outraged. Eve smirked, looking at one such red-faced stonehorn, a middle-aged woman with a cuddly cute baby boy no older than four. The little guy’s gray horns looked adorable while he gaped at the three of them with wide innocent eyes. Quite a picture of contrast he made, standing there beside his mother.

Eve suddenly realized she’d seen more women on the streets here than anywhere in Aiminia. And fewer children. Far fewer. She filed that odd observation away for a question later because Kumil’s face had undergone a remarkable transformation.

“I’m going to give you the highlights. Unfortunately, can’t go into details, at least not without consulting my father first.” He took a deep breath, face thunderous. “There have been rumblings of discontent about the Treaty, and the rumblings are growing steadily. Supposedly, the movement is being backed by one or two influential members of the military. Some have even suggested it goes all the way up to the Royal Council, Bramka save us.”

“Movement?” asked Arjun.

“A small minority have gotten it into their heads that we need to bring back the good old days, from back before the Cataclysm. When, according to some legends, we possessed far superior technology.”

Arjun looked confused. “Superior to whom? Humans or aditarus? There weren’t any. Apart from Aimin and Anantika.”

“And just the two of them beat the living daylight out of us.”

Maybe Eve imagined the slight tinge of shame on Kumil’s handsome features.

“The cult seems to have conveniently forgotten that part of history,” he added.

Or maybe she didn’t. “Cult?” Eve prompted.

“Cult of the Lost Ones. Bent on finding the lost tribes of stonehorns and recover the supposedly superior technological knowledge that they still somehow possess, living in complete isolation somewhere in some remote gods-forgotten corner of Sindria.”

“You seem skeptical,” said Arjun as they reached a four-point junction at the top of a steep incline, and another colossal stalagmite came into view, with an enormous stone-paved plaza surrounding the tower. They’d reached one of the many exits from the Cavern, a brightly lit tunnel, over a thousand feet wide, with the giant tower almost acting as a sentry.

A steady stream of stonehorns was boarding numerous odd-looking powercars in the distance, at the base of the tower, which glowed cyan. To the right, couple of hundred yards away, in front of a huge hanger also built from the same granite as the plaza, several stonehorns and a much taller figure were engaged in animated conversation. Vague outlines of a number of vehicles, which shared even less resemblance with powercars, could be discerned inside the smoky hanger. Eve’s entire village could’ve comfortably fitted inside the hanger, with room to spare for an outlying hamlet or two.

She managed to close her gaping mouth before Arjun did. “Stranger things have happened,” he said. “A fortnight ago, none but the Designer of Destiny, Chiranjeev himself, could’ve Foreseen I’d be standing here right now.”

They took the road to the right that meandered down the small hillock. Or rather, zigzagged. Seems according to all stonehornish civic planners, every angle but the right angle was the wrong angle.

Once their group came within visual range, a couple of familiar faces lit up. With two very dissimilar emotions. Tearing himself away from the conversation, an irate James headed their way with a relieved Aisha trailing him, flighty as a bird and graceful as a dancer.

Looking at the scowl on the Master Cleric’s face, which resembled some of the stonehorns in terms of severity, Eve gave a sigh and mentally prepared herself for a lecture. Despite all the lip and glare she’d received today, and was about to receive, she never for a moment regretted her decision to accompany Kumil on their tour of Balgistin.

Today was a good day.

Today, she’d made a friend, perhaps even two.