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KALON
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Chapter Fifty-Eight: Culat
Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant
Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation
Solar System: D-447
Planet: Ora
Location: Daska City, Lower city market
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We have walked for a few hours now, trying to get to the inner-city gates, the walkways are littered with so much refuse that it is hard to travel quickly. The dead remind us of the horror that befell this city. However, we still have not found the cause. In the inner city, I think we may find more answers.
She is a curious woman, Luna. It would normally not bother me, but she stops frequently to ask things about the Kuwathi and our ways. Whenever she sees something that interests her, she expects me to answer. When I ask a question back, she tries to change the subject. Still, I persist. Perhaps it is the irritation she gives me, walking the hallowed grounds of the dead without a care in the world.
“Where do the Kuwathi get the oil for their lamps?” she asks, examining a cart of overturned oil jars.
“Depends on where they live.” I say, bending down and looking amongst the contents.
The oil inside most jars looks like it has been there for many seasons. Growing a crust around the top of the jar where it was not sealed properly. She examines one in her hands, peering at it closely against the light that comes from the daylight above. Thick panels of composite glass line the ceiling of the lower city market, just like in my city. The only difference is the massive ice crystals that hang from the metal struts between the panes, made from the condensation of years without maintenance. This city has been abandoned for many seasons it would seem.
“Why?” she asks me, glancing over the jars lid at me.
“Some cities hunt different beasts, different times of year.” I say to her.
She opens one of the jars, accidentally breaking the glass, reminding me of her strength.
“It smells rancid, what does this one come from?” she asks, moving her head away from the broken jar.
“You ask many questions,” I say, depositing the best looking jar into the bag I took from one of the tribe halls “Yet you answer so few.”
She gives me a look, one that reminds me of Korra and her playfulness. One that I ignore, searching for more things that might be useful to us.
“You really won’t say what creature makes a stench like that?” She asks, again she is expecting my tongue to wag for her curiosity. Irritation rises, so I let it guide my tongue.
“You should know it better than I, the smell is similar to your own.” I say, having had my fill of her one-sided questions.
Her eyes blink at me, her face becoming flush as she storms off past me.
“You’re one to talk.” She quips as she goes by.
She is not wrong, I am not much better, the Shulka’s stench still clings even after I have changed my furs with ones I found. I need to bathe, desperately. My body itches from it. We should have made time this morning.
My eyes roll as she moves towards the maintenance section of the city.
“There are no tribe halls down that way.” I say.
She stops in her tracks, kicking a cart, denting the metal. Perhaps I should not press her, lest it becomes my head she kicks. Though for some strange reason, seeing her upset after she has irritated me so much, it is… satisfying.
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“Insufferable.” She mutters between curses under her breath as she walks by again.
“That leads away from where we need to go.” I say with a suppressed chuckle.
She stops again, her fist clenched, she turns to speak, the words almost not wanting to fall.
“Do you know nothing of decorum?” she asks me, coming closer “Every time I ask you a question you always answer it so sharply.”
My eyes narrow at her.
“At least I answer.”
Her jaw tenses for a moment before she lets out an exaggerated sigh.
“That is fair. It is not that I do not want to answer, but I should not… cannot.” She says, her anger somehow dispelling as she looks back at me again “I am sorry, but it cannot be helped. That is why I try to avoid asking your secrets as well.”
Fair? Can there be fairness between a Kuwathi and a master? A strange idea. It explains why she has not asked me about being runeless, even though I know she is curious. Perhaps I can trade for knowledge that does not reveal her secrets.
“That thing you did before, to combat the Netheric poisoning.” I say, mulling it over “If you teach it to me, I will answer your questions.”
“Mana tracing?” she asks me, folding her arms.
I nod to her, tying my pack with the supplies I have gathered.
“It may not be possible for you,” she says softly, “Despite your strange ability to feel and shape mana while being runeless, I don’t think it will serve you well.”
There it is again… the pity that follows after. As though I am pitiful. As though I have not survived all these years with my truth.
“That is still to be decided.” I say, determination is building in me. I will take the pity from her eyes.
“Then we have a deal?” she asks.
“Agreed.” I say, she comes closer now extending an arm, as I embrace it, I add “On one condition. Something you must do.”
She tilts her head to the side.
“If you say anything about me bathing, so help me.” She warns, yet there is some playfulness in the tone.
A smile crosses my mouth as my arm pulls away, turning now towards the inner-city gates. She follows behind.
“What is the condition?” she asks, coming to my side.
“Culat.” I say.
“Meaning?” she asks, her tone is less annoyed then the other times I spoke words she does not know. There is almost a curiosity in her now to learn them. Perhaps so she can understand the Sage better, as many of his teachings do not translate well in her tongue.
“It means…” I say, raising an eyebrow to her “To bathe.”
She does not get angry this time, even though she rolls her eyes at me.
“Well, even though it is at my expense, it is nice to see you being less serious.” She says, giving me another glance, a warm smile crossing her lips as her violet eyes catch the light.
Her smile brings memories of one who used to smile in the same way. I will not let a beautiful smile fool me again. The cold of the calm seeps into my chest, hardening it. Lengthening my stride and straightening my face.
“We should move quickly, we have wasted enough time already.” I say coldly, and with purpose. I do not want her to think her tricks will work on me. I am getting too comfortable around her. I should not forget that she is a master.
“Perhaps I spoke too soon,” she says with disappointment in her tone “Where are we headed exactly?”
“One of the inner clan lodgings.” I say, thinking on the journal left by another Ulima.
“Why do we go there?” she asks.
“The journal spoke of an inner clan so wealthy that many whispered the City Chief had plans to slay them.” I explain.
“Do you think that is what caused whatever happened here?” she asks, looking at the large gates that lead to the inner city.
“No.” I say, peering closer, I see the gates are cracked open, bodies wedged between the gears. Blast marks from energy weapons paint the silhouettes of the bodies that lie beneath. They were massacred.
She pauses, looking down at the corpse of a child, her face going pale as she clutches her side.
“Even the children…” she says, kneeling down next to the body “Who would do such a thing?”
“People.” I say.
She looks at me, her eyes glistening with tears for someone she did not even know. Such a strange thing. Do her people not feel ashamed by crying? Looking away from her, I turn to the large gate, pushing myself between it.
“We move.” I say.
“Should we not at least bury them?” she asks.
“To what end?” I ask her, giving her a stern look “Besides, my people seek honor in the pyre. Not in rotting beneath the ground.”
My jaw flexes, thinking of the gaunt man that I buried beneath rocks and dirt. A burial wrought with folly. It was all I could give him though.
“Then we should make a pyre.” She says, looking around her.
“Will you make time for all of them?” I ask her, hardening my eyes at their plight “We will never leave this place if you do. They are not your burden, do not try to carry them.”
My eyes look away, the words feel familiar, it is something Arrum said to me more than once. Even though I say these cold words to her, I too feel the want. Even if I did not know them, there is no honor in how they were left.
***
We walk through the frosted walkways in silence as the natural light fades from view and the red glow of the low powered lights guide our path. She has not spoken to me since we left the corpses of the slain. Somehow blaming me that we do not have time. Perhaps I was too cold with her. She is different than most people. Sensitive in a way that would not survive among my people well.
To distract myself from the silence between Luna and me, I find myself reading from the journal left behind. Barely able to make out the words in the low light. Their notes are very detailed. Yet, there are many frivolous things written between the pages. Things about what they hope for, and how they often dream of holding a real flower someday. An Ulima should not dare to hope, nor should they dream. No matter how small. This much I know. My fingers trace through the pages, until I find the name of the one who wrote it, Riza.