The creak of wagon wheels and plodding hoofbeats rang like bells in the pregnant morning. Chris trudged along, trying to make sense of everything that happened in that camp. He’d learned a lot and could’ve learned more, were it not for Zareti and his big mouth, but that couldn't be helped.

Everything he'd learned about the Azzari through rumors and whispered conversations was wrong. They weren't mindless savages hellbent on keeping Outlanders as slaves or sacrifices like everyone kept saying. At least the General didn't strike him as that kind of person.

That was good to know but was more interesting, was the detail about there being more Blight Gates out there. It meant he had the option to leave this camp in the future, provided he had a detailed map of all Gate locations. He wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, but he liked having more options in his arsenal.

“Are you the one who organizes the square?” said a tentative voice.

Chris looked up to see the young Azzari warrior escorting them gazing at him nervously. He couldn't have been older than seventeen at a guess, with the tall and lithe frame seen on all Azzari.

“What?” Chris said, snapping out of his stupor.

Yeah, it was him,” interjected Zareti afterward. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” said the Azzari, unbothered by Zareti’s attitude. “On the contrary, I’m impressed with his management skills. We all watch you in our free time, especially after we make herb deliveries. Tell me, how do you keep track of all these boxes?”

He used his spear to gesture at the band of crates around them. They were scattered haphazardly in a misguided attempt to appear randomized. Chris grimaced when he thought of the weeks he wasted stacking them like that.

“Uhm, I organize them by order of priority I guess,” Chris said, gesturing to the crates at the front. “Meat is butchered and packaged into sacks the moment it arrives. It's the first to leave. The fruits and plants aren't as urgent and can go into either sacks or crates depending on what's available.” Chris explained. “Did you say you all watch me in your free time? Why? I thought you would be more interested in stabbing something with those spears you carry around.”

“Uh, you are mistaken about something, new friend. We are not warriors. Our talents lie in seeking and scouting, not battle,” he said, gesturing to his combat suit. “You see this? It’s called the Calanthia. It’s to help us blend into the forest and avoid trouble. That’s not to say Seekers are afraid of battle if it comes to it. But we always prefer to stay out of confrontations if we can help it.”

“You mean to tell us all those spears and drills we saw you back there were to aid you all to live long and peaceful lives?” Zareti said, looking pointedly at the man’s spear.

The Azzari sighed before saying, “Things weren't always like that, Outlander. Circumstance has forced our hand.”

“What happened?” Chris asked, hoping to get clearer answers than the old general gave him.

“Too much. So much that I barely recognize what we’ve become anymore,” said the Azzari, looking older than he had any right to be. “One day, we woke to find our crops were stale and sterile. Not just the ones in storage, even freshly harvested crops didn't provide sustenance. It made no difference what we ate, or how much of it we ate. None of us knew it at the time, but that day is now remembered as ‘Blights Touch’.”

He trailed off and his face took on a vacant expression. The wind howled around them, but Chris didn’t hurry the man as he went about his ruminations.

“I still remember it like it was yesterday. I was only thirteen summers at the time and was starting to get a hang of my garden duties. When the first squad of Seekers came back, I knew something was wrong. Seekers aren’t ones to shy away from danger. Their search for Sukanda’s Rest takes them to some of the most hostile terrain in the Heartlands. So when they came back with news about holes rising out of the ground, I knew things would never be the same again.”

“How long ago was this, uhm, day of Blights Touch?” Chris asked in fascination.

“Maybe five or six springs from now? I don’t remember anymore.”

“All of it!?” Zareti exclaimed. “Are you saying all the food in this land is useless to eat?”

“Yeah. Only the Blight Gates provide food worth eating. We hunt Blightspawn and gather any crops we can find there to send back home.”

Chris grimaced when he thought of the same thing happening on Earth. When he thought of how Outlanders had emerged from those very same Gates, he was once again surprised by the Azzari’s tolerance. He wasn't so sure he would be so trusting had he been in their position. Zareti must have felt the same and made no snide remarks this time around.

“My name is Christopher Krast, by the way,” he said, before pointing a finger at Zareti. “Big grumpy over here is Zareti. I like the leaf pattern on your spear. Did you make it yourself?”

“Oh, thanks for noticing. It took me months to get the outline just right,” said the man, looking at his spear with pride. “My name is Siya and it's a pleasure to meet you both. I’ve tried having conversations with others of your kind but they shied away from me.”

“I bet they did,” Chris said grimly, thinking of the horrific things he was led to believe about the Azzari. “It’s because they don't know much about you. The only thing I can be sure of is that you have an odd fixation about plants.”

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“We do like our plants,” Siya said sheepishly, looking like a seventeen-year-old boy again. “It’s been forever since I had the chance to tend to my garden, and it's probably a mess by now. It will take me forever to find a wife if this keeps up.”

“A wife?” Chris asked in confusion. “You need a garden to court a woman?”

“Why, of course,” said Siya, looking at him strangely. “How else am I supposed to attract her interest? When she sees I'm capable of producing good crops, she’ll know my worth and that I’m capable of taking care of her and our children.”

“Can’t she… you know, make her own garden?”

“Lilikwi’s Grace, no!” Siya exclaimed, hurriedly looking around. “New friend, please. Don't say such things where others might hear you or you’ll shame us both.”

“Why?” Zareti asked. “It sounds like a reasonable thing to do if the woman wants to have her own food.”

“You mean…” Siya said, licking his lips and glancing around nervously. “You mean to say your women grow their own food where you come from?”

His voice was barely above a whisper as though they were discussing some great conspiracy. Chris had to replay his words several times to make sure he heard them right. Was this some kind of joke?

“If that’s what they want, then sure,” Chris said, looking at the man for any sign of mockery. “They’re free to tend their garden however they wish and grow whatever they want.”

“Lilikwi’s Grace! What do all the men do if your women are growing food all day?”

Chris didn't know what to say. The question was so out of the ordinary that he found himself struggling to come up with a valid answer. Thankfully, Zareti answered in his place.

“We mostly drink, dig, and fight where I come from. There was always one clan or another raiding our tunnels even though they knew we were as poor and destitute as they were. Now that I think of it, I’m glad the Blight Gate dragged me out of there. Being able to feel the wind on my face and see the sun and stars in the sky has been good for me.”

“Well, we do things differently here,” said Siya, doing a good job of hiding his scandalized expression. “All men are required to move out and start their own homes when they reach sixteen summers. Our first responsibility is to set up a garden in a public space where everyone can see it. Then we must tend it every day for the full cycle until our first crops start to sprout.“

“What happens if you miss a day?” Chris asked curiously.

“That will be bad, especially if you’re still starting. People notice such things and talk. Afterward, everyone and their grandmother will know and think that you’re lazy. Selling your first crop will be a nightmare once enough people know about your carelessness, and you can forget about finding a wife for the next few cycles.”

“Raging storms,” Zareti exclaimed, “What if you are sick or something? They can’t hold that against you, can they?”

“Exceptions can be made,” Siya conceded. “But you’ll still have to find a friend or family member who can take up your responsibilities during your absence. Otherwise, the Shazi won't allow your crops to enter the trading rotation.”

Zareti kept pestering Siya with a plethora of questions and the Azzari was more than happy to answer them. In those few minutes, Chris learned more about the Azzari and their culture than he had in his entire three-month stay. It was fairly interesting and made more so by the rattle of wagon wheels and steady hoofbeats.

They reached a bend in the road where a familiar sight unfolded before him. Rays of sunlight rippled across the landscape like the kiss of candlelight. Revealing a field the size of a small village. The Gathering Square was a web of winding lanes, sharp intersections, and meter-high rope fences outlining avenues for traffic.

Even so early in the morning, the roads were bustling with activity as shirtless men moved to and fro hauling crates half as big as they were. Women in weather waor clothes were huddled in groups, sorting goods into crates or woven sacks. Heavy sacks of meat made up most of the cargo and a few were stacked with plants, soil, and a dozen things he couldn't make sense of.

The ceaseless clamor created a symphony of industry, as people sweated to load caravans with a wide variety of resources. The sight brought him an odd comfort, and a sense of peace washed over him like a spring breeze. This was familiar to him. He worked in construction for too long to not feel comfortable in such a setting.

Not for the first time, he wondered what his father would think of all he’d done here. Would this be enough to pay off that old debt? He shook his head, knowing that a thousand lifetimes would never be enough to settle that score.

“This is where I'll leave you,” said Siya, breaking him out of his melancholy. “I’ll spook them if I go closer but feel free to come visit me if you get a chance. I wish to learn more about your boxes so I can try them when I get back home.”

“I’ll do that,” Chris said, waving at him.

The Azzari gave him a strange salute before jogging back to his camp. Chris watched him until he vanished behind the bend and reflected on how strange this day had been. He made a new friend on the day he was to die.

“What a waste of time!?” Zareti grumbled next to him. “We went through all that trouble and we still don't know how to get the damned Taint.”

“I wouldn't say that,” Chris said absently. “I might have an idea, but it's incomplete. I would have had a chance to ask him outright if you kept your mouth shut and let me do the talking like I told you to. As it stands, we can only work off the context clues he let slip earlier.”

“I don’t like the way he spoke to us. Thinking himself great and all that. I swear if I heard him call me ‘boy’ one more time, I would’ve punched him right through the face.”

Chris raised an eyebrow at that, not knowing whether the man was joking or not. For as long as he’d known him, Zareti was confrontational about everything. It was as though he had a grudge against the whole world.

“Well, it's a good thing you held back or we’d both be dead,” Chris said dryly. “As for the Taint, I think it's safe to assume they get it by either eating or killing Blightspawn.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s not like the Azzari do much else besides killing and eating Blightspawn in that camp. Though I admit I could be wrong.”

“So we just have to kill a few Blightspawn? That should be simple enough. When do we leave?”

“Leave? Who said anything about leaving?”

“We have to leave. The Azzari might not be as bad as those rumors made them out to be but I doubt they’ll allow us to hunt in this Blight Gate. We have to try our luck elsewhere.”

“I understand, but you know how delicate things are in the square right now. If I leave now, this will all devolve into a gang war I’ve been trying to prevent,” Chris said, pointing to the activity ahead of them.

“That’s not our problem to solve. If these people want to kill each other, I say let them. We don't owe them anything.”

“Let’s talk about it later,” Chris said, his mind whirling as he turned to face Zareti. “We’ll bring Dante in on it and hear what he has to say before we decide on anything.”

Zareti muttered something under his breath before saying, “Fine. I’m sure I can talk him into seeing reason.”

“Good. In the meantime, drop this wagon off at the cargo bay on your way. I’ll meet you there after I’m done with my inspections.”

“Alright, but don't take too long. I’d rather watch piss go dry than suffer another one-sided conversation with that old man.”

“Sure thing,” Chris said, already walking to the square. “I’ll be there in half an hour, tops.”