James came storming up to them, sniffed the air, then turned his glare toward Arjun who produced a nonchalant shrug. The effect of the lager was still lingering near its optimal stage, when inhibitions were loosened by just the right amount.

“Verifying the rumor that Balgistin lager is the best. Didn’t get the chance at the mess hall last night.” His demeanor turned slightly rebellious. “Such an opportunity may never come again in this lifetime.”

James’ expression sobered while a sideways glance revealed Eve heaving a silent sigh of relief.

“We’ll talk about this later.” The Battle Cleric turned his attention toward Kumil who, by this point, looked almost as alert and clear-headed as James. Arjun gave a small shake of the head in amazement.

Hovering behind James, Aisha regaled him with one of her rare radiant smiles. Arjun returned the smile, trying not to appear overly eager to do so. He failed miserably, as a small smile tugged at the corners of Aisha’s lips, causing him to groan inwardly.

People do this all the time. It should be easy, especially given their connection. But reality has a way of kicking one in the beans. For the first time in his life, Arjun learned there was such a thing as oversharing. He checked his kernel signature, subtly making it tighter.

Shifting her attention to Eve, Aisha’s gaze flickered for a brief moment to include Kumil, and then the smile went through a series of rapid transformations – from wary uncertainty to genuine puzzlement, followed by relaxed…contentment? Hmm, maybe his worries about a certain ethical dilemma had been pointless. He could no more stop breathing than Aisha could stop reading people. How she was doing it though was a question that had been gnawing at Arjun since yesterday.

When Eve’s eyes met Aisha’s, hers narrowed while the amber-green orbs of the half-aditaru became apologetic. Thankfully, Eve didn’t pursue it further; she had secrets of her own. Less so now, though she was unaware of the fact. Could also be she couldn’t read the emotion in her eyes as clearly as Arjun could. He, of course, had a definite advantage in that regard, more so since it involved Aisha.

Instead, Eve pointed with her chin. “Seems somebody kicked the hornet’s nest.”

Several officious looking stonehorns were headed their way, with twice as many in military attire acting as escorts. Looking at the hive of activity at the base of the tower, Arjun’s Heart Chakra quickened. Something was definitely up.

“They wouldn’t tell me anything,” James supplied, addressing Kumil. “Other than the fact that Balgistin is in temporary lockdown. They looked about ready to explode just because I asked.” His voice turned icy. “Or maybe, because I asked. It was heavily implied that Aisha and I are lucky to be breathing free air for committing a crime that they refused to share the details about.”

“I’ll sort it out,” said Kumil, then marched toward the sea of grim-faced welcoming party at the eastern end of the plaza.

Or was it western? Arjun glanced around, realizing he had no idea which direction was east. Kumil will probably just produce another gadget from his pocket if he asks. Which he most certainly will.

After much gesticulating, arguing and tugging of beard, of oneself – not of each other’s, thank Aimin, the whole group seemed to have come to a decision. Far from a unanimous one, judging by the appearances of several stonehorns, especially the tallest one, some sort of noble, perhaps even a relative of Kumil’s.

Of the group, three stonehorns, accompanied by Kumil, came forward to greet them, bowing in the Arunian fashion. Not as deep. All but one of the soldiers stayed back, although their fierce glares indicated they weren’t exactly ecstatic about it.

“Accept my humblest apologies for our behavior earlier,” the tall stonehorn told James. “I reacted in haste and reached an absurd – and what is even more unforgivable – incorrect, conclusion.” He looked to have swallowed a lemon but soldiered on with admirable grit, prompting a slight smile from the old general standing beside him.

Turning to the rest of them, the dapper stonehorn in elaborate purple and crimson coat said in his oddly jarring accent, “On behalf of the Royal Council, I, Drakilam Subenkrik, belatedly welcome you all to Balgistin, the crown jewel of Kailash. These are my fellow council….persons,” he hesitated, glancing at the stocky grinning woman standing off to his left who seemed to be having a fine old time at the pompous tall stonehorn’s expense. “Princess Rukalia Krajenshaw.” He then indicated the old general, who was sizing the lot in front of him up with shrewd and calculating eyes. “And General Mikalim.”

Arjun looked between Kumil and the princess, identifying the brown hair and narrow grayish-orange backward curving horns as the most prominent common features. However, her horns were slightly more pronounced and just a touch deeper, darker, gray and the hair, cut short in pixie style, was of a lighter brown color. Before he could ask a discreet question or two, the grizzled general cut the introductions short.

“Now that we’re all acquainted and not at each other’s throats, we better get a move on. Sooner we do this, the better.”

“Do what, exactly?” James asked.

“Well,” Councilor Subenkrik began with a grimace, looking as if the lemon he’d swallowed earlier had grown a tree bearing multiple fruits. “We need your help on a delicate matter.” He was about to expand on this when a firm female voice from the left announced, “There has been a theft at the temple of Bramka.”

All stonehorns present turned a deeper shade of red in rage – and in equal parts – sheer disbelief, even though all of them were clearly aware of the theft. Kumil’s nostrils flared, and he shook his head, incredulity still written all over his face. “Cult is growing bolder by the day. This is beyond sacrilegious.”

Following a cryptic glance at her half-brother, Rukalia said, “I understand Kumil judged it necessary to inform you about the Cult of the Lost Ones.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

While her words didn’t exude warmth, neither did she sound as overtly hostile as most stonehorns they’d met so far. Having said that, out of the three council members, her emotions were the hardest to sense, almost as much as James’ had been. Her accent was also the easiest on the ears, with less stress on the consonants, another resemblance she bore with Kumil.

Seeing two sets of affirming nods from Eve and Arjun, she continued, pointedly ignoring Aisha, who, thanks to her talent, wasn’t altogether clueless. “A decision that showed foresight. We need your,” she said, addressing the Battle Cleric, “expertise in verifying our suspicions. We’ve managed to at last capture one of the thieves, who, we suspect, is a core member of the Cult. Another couple of users with essence senses would speed things along. So, you’re all welcome.” This time her gaze included poor Aisha as well. “To the Outer Sanctum.”

The sense of magnanimity she conveyed effortlessly hid the apology within. Stonehorns may be experts at many things, but apologizing, most definitely, isn’t one of them.

James gave a shallow bow. “We’d be honored.”

“What in the name of Allmother is that?”

Kumil, Eve, Aisha, and Arjun were standing inside the massive hanger they’d spotted earlier. In front of them was an object that Arjun could only describe as an over-sized and weaponized distant cousin of a powercar, built by the collaboration between a scatterbrained sculptor turned Smith and a Sigilmaster who was either a peerless genius or an absolute moron.

Easily twice the size of the largest powercar Arjun had ever seen, outside of the strange vehicle didn’t seem to possess any straight lines. Looking at all the curves left Arjun dizzy and thoroughly confused. So much so that he’d earlier mistaken the front for the back. Also, the sheer number of sigils etched onto its strange dull gray metallic surface and the components inside was simply astounding. And most of the sigils seemed entirely pointless. Unless…

Prompted by the recollection of an advice given by his mother, back when the grip of Power Madness was still loose, Arjun mentally adjusted his perspective, not seeing the individual sigils, but the network of sigils as a whole. A picture almost started to emerge. Almost, but not quite. Something to do with energy transference on an extremely complex and minute level. Along with minimizing friction. Both of course made sense in theory, especially given the context. But the execution took his breath away.

“That’s our ride,” replied the half-stonehorn.

Eve peered at the vehicle. “Where is the Aimin-cursed door?”

Gripping a lever jutting out from the oddly curvy and robust surface, Kumil gave a cheeky smile. The half-stonehorn then pressed the top and twisted it. With a whoosh, a large portion of the surface effortlessly slid away, revealing a neat and compact interior complete with bolted chairs. There was another, much larger, compartment behind the door at the back.

“A product of the collaboration between Balgistin and Arunia?” Arjun asked.

Kumil skipped inside, motioning them to climb aboard. “Sure is.”

None of them needed a second invitation and were soon lounging in leather-bound straight-backed chairs that felt more comfortable than they looked.

“Tell me about the sigils,” Arjun said, shifting to find the perfect posture. “And the batteries. From what I managed to gather from a cursory inspection, they’re vastly different from the ones found in powercars.”

It was going to take them the rest of the day to reach the temple. After the Jamila drikkralim – Sustainable Juggernaut – got started, that is. James was still talking things over with the Council members. It was decided, by James and without consulting any of them, that after concluding their business at the temple, they’d be staying overnight at the Farmer Cavern, less than twenty miles away. Tomorrow morning, bright and early, the Juggernaut would then transport the five of them to the Garbal Exit, where they’d be able to hire ponies from a small stonehornish settlement and be on their way to the city that the Cavern exit was named after. The mountain trail was well-traveled and better maintained, Kumil claimed, though, from what Arjun had gathered, the Monsoon would most certainly be challenging the veracity of that claim.

He could barely restrain his excitement at the thought of seeing the majestic mountain range from up close. Kailash has been the subject of countless grand adventures in numerous fictional stories, not to mention the topic of many significant events in the Historica.

After Kumil began explaining, Arjun soon realized it’d take bells to even get a handle on the basic principles behind the Juggernaut, as he’d started calling the vehicle. Eve listened with half an ear out while poking through various nooks and crannies at the back. Aisha seemed content to be finally away from all the hostile glares of the stonehorns.

“We can’t manufacture as many as we’d like, for our own needs, let alone be able to export them to our allies,” Kumil said in answer to his question about mass-producing the vehicles. “Iron, Dendremite, copper, Basil, strelenium. None of these raw materials are inexhaustible. Krumilam, the god who I was named after, only provided us with a finite supply. One of the reasons why we decided to shift our focus from coal-based engines to those powered by the twinsuns and volcanic energy, both abundant here in the Kailash. If we bow to every request from Aiminia or Arunia, we’d be scraping the bottom of the world within half a millennium. It’d be like selling Krumilam’s body-parts for momentary convenience.”

Eve gave a derisive snort. “I’m sure the human bureaucrats and merchants all believed you. We’re famous for our sustainable way of living.”

Kumil’s wry smile was more eloquent than words.

“So, how many have you decided to manufacture? And are any exported at all?” Arjun asked.

“A couple to Arunia, so far. Takes years to make a single one, and the process requires constant vigilance by several Smiths and Metalmasters.”

“What about the sigils?” Arjun asked, absently noting how the half-stonehorn had deftly side-stepped one question, while answering another.

“Way over my head, those things. My knowledge of sigil begins and ends with the seven base sigils, and only because I was interested in the Aspects,” Kumil said with a smile, referring to the seven Aspects of Reality, which coincidentally are governed by the seven Artifacts of Atma, chief among which was the Tome of Time. Or so the Lore and Tenets claimed.

Each Artifact had a corresponding sigil – also called base sigil, which in some systems also represented numbers one to seven, the major Nodes being the quantifiers. The Globe of Gravity, for instance, stood for the number two.

“The current framework of sigils that you saw, well, it took three Sigilmasters over a decade to design. I can give you a broad overview of the design, but keep in mind, my understanding of such things is limited.”

“I understand,” said Arjun. “Also, tell me about the alloys.” Seeing the look of hesitation on the half-stonehorn’s face, he quickly added, “As much as you’re allowed to.”

Over the course of the next quarter bell, Arjun’s horizon expanded tenfold. Kumil’s grasp of sigils may be basic, but his knowledge of metallurgy left Arjun in the dust.

What a fool he’d been!!! He’d thought himself well-versed in different aspects of metal-working. The sense of competition the jealousy invoked made him realize even negative emotions could be harnessed for positive purposes. He said a silent thanks to his new friend. Then, thinking back on the exorbitantly expensive pair of gloves he’d purchased – now safely tucked inside his backpack – a nebulous idea started to take shape in his Crown Chakra.

“You mentioned Sigilmasters earlier. Are any of them from the University?”