Chapter 5:
Cuts of Different Fashions
When Deros arrived at the posts in the ground where the aloga’s leads were anchored, he found only Bariaki there, looking significantly different than usual with a veritable rainbow of ribboned braids in his hair, all of it tied back into a bun. The old scout wordlessly handed the reins of one of the pack animals to him with a nod. Murmuring his thanks, Deros began transferring most of the burdens off of Enseres to the new one, making visual note of the other perhaps two dozen extra beasts gathered. All of them looked well-chosen, among the best for youth, strength, and efficient long-distance travel, with half of them clearly meant as relief mounts and kept unburdened. If they had to beat a quick retreat, the pack aloga might be lost, but the rest would keep pace in almost any scenario.
Aerion rode up directly to the posts, obtaining a pack animal and beginning his own process next to Deros. He had maybe six or seven braids in his hair with ribbons of blue and green, the extra likely from siblings. As he drew close he called, “Apologies, my prince — I had hoped to warn you about your princess coming. Sadly, I got caught up with the speaker of the Assembly who’d been ignorant of goings-ons. And my silly family, of course.”
Deros gave a shrug and a grunt as he met Aerion’s eyes, just as he finished tying down tent poles to the nameless pack aloga. “What’s done is done, as ever. What exactly happened? With Palamera and you.”
“Deros, I do not lie, she just ambushed me out of nowhere and asked me if you were going. As I was deftly turning phrase to claim internal Azakan matters as confidential, that great rockhead general came up and confirmed it for her!” At Deros’s suspicious look, Aerion put a hand to his heart and held his other up. “I do swear it, oh brother of this life. She had an inkling, some way or another, and I did not create it. Eavesdropping perhaps. Did you show her a trick or two?”
“Yes, she can hear hairs drop and see lizard-men waving from the moons, now,” Deros answered in thick sarcasm. Frowning, he wondered somewhat why she had been poking around to hear in the first place, but moreover, he had a sudden worry she might’ve campaigned to go herself after hearing he was. But surely she would’ve said so, or been less insistent about her pure reasonings for going.
“They watch us from up there? Skrófa, I think I know why. Every time I go to piss they’re getting a show — here I thought I was just blessing the gods with the vision they crafted!”
“I’m sure they only made the mistake once and now avert their eyes like the rest of us.” Turning back to Enseres, Deros double-checked the remaining gear and contents of the saddlebags, then mounted up, satisfied. His eyes turned back to his friend, who was tying down a leather pack of supplies. “I take it you took scent of that corpse?”
Aerion nodded. “The smell of blood, death, and netherbirds. And I guess him, underneath it all. Whoever he is. Was. Nothing on the metal, lead bits. If there ever was a different scent, it's long gone after being lodged in his body for days upon days. Scents from his belongings didn’t tell me anything more titillating than the flavor of his lover’s oils. Southern oushawa and a hint of mint leaves.”
“Hopefully we find out more along our route.” Oushawa was by far the most common fragrant scent in oils, though none were exactly cheap. It was usually associated with courtesans, with wealthier people avoiding or blending it, perhaps due to the reputation it had gained.
A sharp whistle and a shout of, ‘gather ‘round!’ came from Thalamon as he and Urchon rode up into the vicinity of the posts and Bariaki, likely so he was within earshot of the old scout as well as the still-working Aerion. As Deros approached and murmured greetings, the others gathered, sitting atop their mounts in a loose circle.
Thalamon was a stocky man of an age similar to Deros’s father, with white hair thoroughly braided-through with ribbons of mostly blue and green and held back as a mass into a tail. He kept a trimmed beard of white and flecks of gray on an intense face that always seemed to be focusing, brows naturally angled down. He wore the standard attire of the Azakan, with his tunic in the scout style that included a hood, folded down. Like most scouts or traveling Azakan, he had his necklace tucked and unseen under his tunic.
“Alright,” Thalamon began in his gruff voice once everyone was present. “I will be your vaeton for the duration of this trip, and you can address me as such. However, we all answer to Ambassador Urchon. Obey her without question and she can veto me similarly, though she is deferring to my experience for most matters of the journey. That includes emergencies. Understood?”
After all the Azakan gave a ‘yea,’ he continued, “Our goal is to reach Many Sands as fast as possible. Nine days will be ideal. If we find anything along the path, we can investigate briefly, but we’re not going out of our way. Separate groups will be seeking out the dead man’s token and the exact location of the netherbird ambush, but down the rest of the canyon, do keep an eye out. If we run into strangers on the way… the exact situation will dictate how we react. But caution will be our priority. We will retreat and abandon this envoy if we run into significant trouble. If we find obvious evidence and need to report it, but feel the mission is still reasonable, we can send a runner back and continue. Regardless, just follow orders when you get them.
“Bariaki, Olarius, Aerion, and I will rotate as advance scouts. Bariaki and Olarius will serve advanced today, though we already have two ahead who will catch us to report about two hours down this path, near Heaven’s Pass, then head back to the fortress. Deros, you’ll hang back mostly, to keep an ear out, except when I need your eyes. Be sure to look out at any high points.
“Ryza and Daexo, guard the primary party as you see fit. Ryza can spot for scouting if needed, especially when outside ambush-prone areas. The Ambassador will stay with the primary group for protection and command when I’m not present. Always communicate with your fellows, never go off without notifying others. Palamera, you can handle the aloga duties by default, but the others-”
“Palamera and I can share and rotate duties,” Eursett interjected crisply. “I’ve tended herds since before any of you were born — even Bariaki was a babe in swaddling years past the days I took on the creeds of my station. They have not stopped me from tending them still for my family, generation after generation, for theirs and my own satisfaction. I take no shame in dusting my hands with such things, and I wager my hands are as callous as yours, Azakan. If washed more often.”
Some of the men chuckled at the last. Thalamon dipped his head in a respectful nod to Eursett and replied, “As you say, then, Matron. Make use of the others’ labor as you see fit, so long as there are those left guarding. Particularly Deros — he will need all his energy for his arts, and separation so as to not drown out foreign noises.” His eyes turned to Deros. “I’ll have to trust you with more solitude than most here, hunter, because I know that is how you operate. Range back and protect our rear and flanks at the discretion of your expertise. Intermittently. And have your horn at the ready.”
Deros had been eyeing Eursett for some reaction at not having him under thumb, but she had only nodded expressionlessly to Thalamon. He too bowed in acknowledgment of the direction. “I understand perfectly, vaeton. I’ll keep an ear out too for a summoning whistle if you like. Instead of a horn. I can hear it to about the distance of a horn for anyone else.”
“That is agreeable. Now then, I think we’re ready to head out as soon as the lines are untied. Don’t waste too much energy for this leg of the trip, Taldecs, but don’t get lax either.”
Everyone dispersed then, as most chipped in to help untie posts and get the herd in order. Bariaki and Olarius conferred briefly with Thalamon before starting off ahead at a canter, down the sandy, bush-strewn, wide path between the canyon walls. From a distance it looked like it would end in a mountain — this was the final feature of the Roundridges, the generally southern-blocking wall of the canyon for a great stretch past the river proper. But the final part instead intruded inward, angling the dry canyon bottom northward, if briefly. Azrom could be seen just barely peaking above the Roundridges, from Deros’s vantage.
Deros assisted with the work, untying ropes from posts and generally from the animals’ reins as well, as once they got moving, wandering would not be an issue. Eursett rounded the mass, suggestive pressure getting them together — immediately Deros could see the logic of Eursett’s aloga being the one they follow, as the large, prime-age animal was loud and aggressive to the task — the others would naturally fall in line for him.
It was a shame that the impressive beast was unnamed, but Eursett was not the type, nor was her family clan that raised and sold them. At most, she had a unique whistle some variety of ‘come here’ for him. He wasn’t sure, but he believed Eursett had been through three other aloga over her life and at least two. He knew that one died, and the last was very old and living out its remaining days in ease.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Aloga lived as long as Hamaleen, but the Blessed lived two to three times as long. He didn’t really want to think about having to replace Enseres one day, but it was highly likely. Palamera would probably have the hardest time of all replacing Graceful, with her sensitive soul.
I’ll give her many children to console her, by then, he thought in humor as he watched her help Eursett organize the herd, though the thought caused unusual butterflies as well. Children. It was bizarre to think of himself as a father, but it was surely going to happen short years after the marriage, at best. At least Palamera would become impossible to be chosen for dangerous journeys then, as she’d be a young mother. The Hospital was almost militant about such matters. They’d gone before the magistrates getting orders to keep Azakan mothers at home with their young, against the presumed will of the Fortress in darker times.
Feeling guilty and dismissive about considering such ‘tactics’, Deros mounted up and trotted away from the greater pack, toward the already-departing backs of Thalamon and the others. The pace started slow out across the canyon bottom, Thalamon allowing time for the aloga to get in step and rhythm — Eursett worked with Palamera efficiently at this, eventually getting them into a long double row, distances between rather loose.
The Roundridges loomed larger as they approached, and Azrom once again fell behind them. It was still a moderate temperature in the prime of the morning, so no one made many adjustments to their dress. Palamera had put gloves on, and the odd freely-hanging necklace among them all had been tucked under tunics.
At the base of the canyon wall and a dip of elevation from all four directions, a large pond yet persisted from the storms, murky and half-covered over by bluish-green algae. Opportunistic weeds grew all around it, and flying insects buzzed about. The group steered well clear of it, though the aloga gave some mild complaint — there were many goba mounds scattered about, of the wild variety hunters called instead gobasa, which fed with more opportunism and variety than the cane or reed-lovers.
High above the pond, a row of perhaps a dozen muckdivers were perched on a ledge, visible in the shadow only thanks to their preening of brown and gray fur with long, bony mouths, or by flashes of their leathery wings. They were still wet and covered in the muck of the pond they’d obviously pilfered of bugs and larvae and whatever further gunk they ate.
To Deros, they seemed to have an air of impatience, waiting for the larger creatures to stop disturbing their meal-taking with their trampling around. Muckdivers were shy and harmless to the Hamaleen in practice, despite the menacing quality of their frontally-prominent toothy maws. Few in the canyon considered them appetizing due to their preferences and appearance, but some hunters would bag them if they found an easy angle. The Mudfaced People, residing far at the other end of the river where the pests were legion, ate them as a staple.
Their path cut sharply northeast as they curved around the Roundridges and the final tapering slope. Azrom remained hidden, but above the rocky cliff faces ahead one of his children, Mondamarus, shone brighter than the glare and with hints of its orange-red glow. He’d seen it larger, in the telescope of the Ahbra, and it was one of the most vibrant entities to view and dream about. While such things as lizard-men almost certainly didn’t reside on the barren rocks of Hamellion’s moons, it seemed at least plausible they might live under Mondamarus’s strange sky, or ocean, or whatever it was.
Urchon, who’d been riding ahead alone a while, slowed in her pace until she was riding alongside Deros. She nodded to him amicably with a smile. “Deros,” she greeted simply. Urchon was of an age similar to his mother, with lustrous gray hair like silver that she left free and unbraided, only held back by the band of her goggles resting above her forehead. Gray-blue eyes were set in a face with a prominently-bridged nose and defined cheekbones.
She wore sparse but noticeable silver jewelry, including non-dangling earrings with emeralds and sapphires. Her clothing was godberry-dyed with silver thread, in tunic and breeches. A sand-colored hooded cloak spoiled the image somewhat, though she had it entirely resting to her back, hanging by cording and a golden amulet-brooch from her neck. The amulet was cast with the symbol of the Taldecca on it: a simple four-limbed figure of a person as though made of bent wire seen sideways, with one arm stretched up. From the hand curled the old runes, ‘Taldecca Atateri’, or ‘people of fallen stars’. The amulet was the most obvious proof of her role and status.
“Ambassador,” Deros returned in greeting, with a customary nod. “I surmise this trip is nothing particularly new for you, is it?”
“Just Urchon, dear,” she corrected, then shrugged as she considered the question. “It has its newness and has its oldness, like most things for the seasoned. Considering there could be trouble… well, I’ve been lucky there for a long time. I may have become a deal-maker just out of boredom in the first place. My youth taught me to expect excitement and danger at every turn.”
Deros smiled a bit at that. “Some have seen more than the one war, after all. Bariaki, not that he’ll share anything about it.”
“Yes. He was not always so reclusive, you know. Not to this degree. The northern affairs spooked him something terrible. It was brutal, I admit. Us scouts were often more like assassins toward the end, when they began resorting to rat tactics. Thank the gods we had our Arrow of Victory. Casualties would have been much worse without her. I wouldn’t be here, for sure.”
“She’s said the same about you.” Urchon meant Ryza — she’d been granted newer, more glorifying names from her older one, but respectfully declined them each time. That hadn’t stopped others from using them. His father had said they called her, ‘Skybreaker’ in the north, effectively ascribing her as having ended the ‘heavenly vision’ that supposedly drove a northern warlord to aim for southern conquest and ‘rejoining the divided skies’.
Ryza had indeed killed many and been a large part of numerous victories together with her husband, most famously an arrow through the eye of the general Pekasondi Evenhanded in the decisive last battle of the war. The warlord had fled, but his remaining leaders betrayed him and surrendered, with him offered up in chains. Tensipok Skybinder. That had been his name, though the latter was omitted and considered cursed, to northerners. Because it was a lie. Because he had failed.
Urchon scoffed audibly and waved the praise away with a hand. “Please. I may have watched her back a time or two, that is all. I am not Blessed and I am certainly no Daexo. Just stupid in luck. I have the scars to prove how close it was time and again, and I have similarly stupid friends blowing in the northern winds whose pyre I watched blaze. Part of the fortune was not spoiling this valuable face, at least.”
At her sudden grin in his direction, Deros couldn’t help but laugh. “Fortunate indeed, fair Urchon. I’ll have to hear your tips on such protective arts.”
Urchon’s smile grew warmer. “Of course. We can arrange private council even, and I can show you the scars.”
Deros blinked as he realized he’d left himself wide open for that, even could be construed to have suggested it himself. He felt some extra heat to his cheeks, though he maintained some of his good humor as he replied, “If they are not too private, I’m sure Palamera would also be interested.”
Urchon’s maintained smile only became bemused as she nodded, seeming to understand and appreciate the subtle decline of her invitation — if it even was one in truth as opposed to mere teasing. But Deros suspected the former, owing to her reputation. She had never married though she had two children that were mostly raised by her sister and majordomo, as Urchon was generally not home nor, he imagined, terribly motherly. Many who did not care for typical expectations became Azakan, where marriage wasn’t considered necessary and there was an infamous culture of avoiding it. As being Azakan was considered a service and sacrifice to the community, though, the expectation was for the rest of the community to accept it.
Turning to look back toward the trailing herd and Palamera, Urchon said, “It slipped my mind about her still being apprenticed. I thought perhaps the gods cut you more in my fashion. I take it you’ll be wed soon, then?”
“This very summer, after her final tests.”
“And a gorgeous couple you’ll make.”
“Thank you, Amb-... Miss Urchon.”
“Just Urchon!” she corrected with mock sternness. “Anyhow, Mister Deros… it’s good to have you on this mission. Someone with the right kind of subtlety of mind is most welcome. We’ve got a lot of old warriors here, though some don’t look it quite yet. Old warriors that haven’t learned about much more than sticking people with pointy ends excessively well. Or stalking shadows. You’ve got a fresh perspective and a politically educated upbringing, mm?”
“I am at your service completely, Urchon.”
“Not according to your introductory points,” she replied with a wan grin. “Just take note, I may introduce you to others, citing your father, thereby signaling the further implication of his presence in some manner of flesh in addition to my spirit. Useful for both of us, so be prepared and ready to dress the pie presented further. You take my meaning?”
“Where there is cane, there can be fruit.” An old saying of farmers — and his father. “I’ll be ready with rhetoric that promises little and hints a lot.”
“That’s a good boy — exactly. Also, do not hesitate to advise or give your opinion. I’ve told the vaeton to consider it as well.”
“I appreciate that.”
She nodded, and a silence persisted. Ahead, Thalamon looked back to get a stock of the party. Satisfied, he whistled a basic ‘look here; pay attention’ signal, then picked up his pace in the lead to a more standard gait for aloga, with the rest following suit.
“Alright,” Urchon said, “I believe I will attempt to unstiffen that tree of a woman, Eursett, a bit. She’s got plenty up top if anyone can shake it bloody loose.”
“I wish you all the luck, Urchon.”
“I’ll take it!” she said, and rode off, cloak billowing up in the wind behind her.
Deros found himself rather liking the woman — his father had chosen an excellent ally, though he supposed it was always part of his success to recognize and exploit merit in others. She was also just as flirtatious as he’d heard many make jest about. She and Aerion would immediately hit it off — in fact, he might suggest it if she didn’t suss it out herself first. Aerion seemed like he could use a channel for his energy, just as she. ‘Cut in each other’s fashion,’ perhaps.