Kirti inspected the tent’s contents, noting with amusement the fine silks and cushions utilized in the cots’ construction. Enchanted lanterns threw a soft yellow glow throughout the room, and a wicker bowl of fruits and bread was perched on a side table. Their lodgings while traveling were better than the homes contained within the Third Shell. There was never an expense in Nyarlothep that was spared; it was the one continent in Nyarlea with a constant influx of Bells from the queen’s seat in Ronona.

‘The queen has abandoned us,’ the stone between her fingers whispered, the voice distorted as if it were drowning. Time was a merciless filter to memory. ‘What do we do?’

It was a favored memory she’d captured from a dying companion many years before. When Naeemah disappeared and left Magni in her wake.

“Kirti? Are you alright?” Zahra asked, touching her shoulder.

Zahra was kind. Simple. Naïve. “Yes. Simply thinking.”

“A dangerous notion,” Cailu remarked from the opposite side of the tent. The caravan had provided a compact square table with three polished wooden folding chairs, and he reclined in the one farthest from them, watching the exchange.

Kirti smiled. “You’ve been unusually cheery since we left Ichi, Cailu. Were you able to properly thank Nae after all?”

Zahra stiffened, her eyes widening as she looked between them.

The barest touches of pink appeared on the tips of Cailu’s ears and the bridge of his nose. But it was his eyes that betrayed him. There were a great many things one could learn from a person’s gaze. He frowned. “I do not see how that concerns you.”

“And here I thought we were bonding,” Kirti teased, adding a lilt to her voice. “Nae is precious to us both, is she not?”

“Naeemah is rightfully restored as queen. She is well aware of my,” Cailu hesitated, resetting his jaw, “...gratitude.”

Spirits forbid you ever say ‘feelings,’ Cailu. Kirti giggled, rolling the stone across the backs of her knuckles.

‘Did Lady Naeemah truly consort with another island’s man? That can’t be,’ the voice grew pained and distant.

“Calm yourself. It is merely an observation,” Kirti replied. “How is your arm?”

Cailu rolled his shoulder, then opened and closed his fist. “As good as new. Thank you for tending to it.”

“Mm.” Kirti hummed and returned the stone to her [Cat Pack], retrieving another smooth pebble and a deck of cards. “Shall we play a game?”

Zahra blinked. The proposition had taken her off guard. “I… I like games,” she said slowly.

“It would depend on the game.” Cailu crossed his arms. “However, something to pass the time would be welcome.”

“Agreed. I’m not tired yet, even though dinner was delicious,” Zahra remarked as she took one of the wooden chairs. “I didn’t realize you could cook such fine food while traveling.”

“That aspect depends on the company you keep,” Cailu replied, gaze lingering on Kirti. “As well as the Bells you are willing to part with.”

“That certainly works well when you’ve an unlimited income,” Kirti quipped. She slinked toward the last chair, enjoying both Zahra and Cailu’s incredulous stares as she moved. “Or remain in a Party with access to such.”

“That is not a feat that happened overnight, Kirti,” Cailu said carefully.

“And yet, the outcome is the same.” Kirti slid into the chair.

‘Krethik’s pacifist methods are what made us weak,’ Sanrai hissed as Kirti rubbed her thumb against the brilliant red rock. Sanrai’s words rang clearly, as hers was a recent capture. ‘I am not weak, Mother. And those that are don’t deserve to live on this island.’

“What’s the game, Kirti?” Zahra asked, her sanguine tail flicking in excited ticks behind her.

“It is called Benzi.” Kirti parted the wooden box, revealing a deck of thick playing cards with hand-painted backings. “It is a game that can teach you how your fellow players think.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Cailu grunted with a sound of disbelief.

Zahra leaned forward, her features intrigued. “Why’s that?”

“Because there are no winners.” Kirti flipped the box over, dropping the cards into her hand. “Only losers.”

“Pardon me, but is that possible?” Zahra drummed her fingers along the tabletop. “What I mean is, if you don’t lose, that would make you a winner, right?”

‘You and Zahra worship the ground Naeemah walks on, and she tossed you to the side for her own gains. Where is the strength in that?’

“Not necessarily,” Cailu murmured, eyeing the shimmering rock on the table. “Both in games and in life, I fear.”

“I have a feeling that you, in particular, will enjoy this game,” Kirti said, catching Cailu’s gaze.

Cailu furrowed his brow. “Must you always speak in riddles, woman?”

“Better in riddles than in circles,” Kirti countered. She lifted the top card. The image depicted a screaming catgirl, half of whose face dissolved into a whirlwind of black brushstrokes. White streaks scraped rectangular strips away from the painting. Chaos. “We will each have ten cards to begin. Each turn, we play one card face up. Whoever plays the weakest card must take all three. This continues until only one person has cards left in their hand. That person is the Benzi.”

“What does that mean? Benzi?” Zahra asked.

Kirti snickered. “The fool.”

Cailu gestured to the cards with a sly smile. “It seems you must always begin as the fool, then.”

“Ah. But I never end as one,” Kirti replied. “Can you say the same?”

Cailu rolled his eyes.

Zahra covered her mouth with one hand, but not before a soft giggle escaped her.

Kirti raised an eyebrow. “Something you find amusing, child?”

Zahra blushed, the bright red hue nearly matching her eyes. She deferred to a frowning Cailu. “Only if I may speak freely.”

Cailu shook his head and sighed. “You do not require my permission to speak, Zahra. You are a member of my Party.”

News to us both, I’m sure, Kirti mused. She passed each of them ten cards, holding the final ten for herself.

Zahra collected her cards into a neat pile, then traced the emblems on the back with her fingertip. “When I first watched the two of you interact, I wondered how you managed to stand each other with your bickering.” Her blush deepened. “But, when you fight side by side, so few words are exchanged. Like you know what the other is going to do.”

“I fail to see how these two situations are related,” Cailu said, examining the cards in his hand. Immediately assessing his position, Kirti noted. “If we were not compatible in battle, Kirti would not have a place at my side.”

“You wound me.” Kirti feigned offense with a slight pout.

“I think it’s more than that.” Zahra pressed on. “You trust one another. You can talk to each other the way you do because you trust what the other would say.”

“An interesting conclusion indeed.” Kirti lifted her hand, betraying nothing on her face. Cailu served as an excellent stepping stone. He could open every door in Nyarlea with a single word. His trust was necessary, but she was not the person who held it. There was only so much one [Witch Doctor] could do to sway the whims of the world’s most powerful man.

Cailu laughed, but his expression remained cool. “In this, Zahra, you are wrong. I would sooner trust a Defiled.”

“In this, we are the same,” Kirti said, parroting his tone.

Zahra’s smile faltered.

‘Zahra is too soft. You raised her in the ways of a dead man. You’ve ruined her,’ Sanrai snapped, her anger palpable.

Cailu shifted through the cards in his hands. “These cards are not numbered. They are,” he drew them closer to his face. “Concepts?”

“Correct.”

“The art is beautiful, but… how do we know who has the strongest card?” Zahra asked.

Kirti nodded, selecting Transformation from her hand. A pillar of butterflies spiraled upwards from a mangled corpse. “We must argue their worth ourselves.” She placed her card in the center of the table. “For example, the Transformation of dead Encroachers into Experience. Such a strong concept, yet few question its importance.”

Cailu raised an eyebrow. “It is a law of this land.”

“Yes. And why?”

Zahra chewed her lip, pushing forward a card embellished with flowering vines. “For Growth,” she began slowly. “Which is more important to keep us all alive.”

“Excellent play, Zahra,” Kirti said. “Cailu?”

“If we cannot stay alive, we cannot keep this world Balanced.” Cailu slid a painting of golden scales to meet the other two cards. “An issue we face presently. One greater than growth or transformation.”

“Very good. I will yield this round.” Kirti pulled all three cards to her side of the table. “Cailu, you play next.”

Cailu’s expression spoke volumes. This game made him uncomfortable. He was no fool—this would lead to conversations that were frowned upon—blasphemous, even. Yet his pride would not allow him to back down.

‘Neither of you know what it’s really like out there, do you?’ Sanrai murmured.

If Cailu would not open the doors Kirti required, she would force them.

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