The next two weeks went by quickly. The catharsis Kairen had achieved gave a measure of peace and detachment from his current situation that insulated him from the worst of his rage. It was an unstable arrangement, but one that let the boy focus on purchasing upgrades that wouldn’t be immediately visible, all while waiting for a chance to change things.
The slavers hadn’t been idle during that time either. Buildings continued to be thrown up at a rapid pace, and all of the workers had claimed houses for themselves and had begun to make themselves feel at home.
Zar’s more opulent structure was inching towards completion, but had reached the point where it was limited by the amount of wood and stone that could be brought in from Luxor. With only two weak Pathfinders moving goods back and forth and with Zar unwilling to make the existence of the Oasis public knowledge it was a long slow process. Fortunately for the slavers, Rao had been more successful with his own mission. The one-handed Pathfinder had managed to reach Savar alive, and in a timeframe that made more frequent travel between the two places viable. Thanks to magical communication Rao was able to update Zar on his progress, and receive instructions for the future. For the moment, he was the only Pathfinder with any experience with that route, but Zar had tasked him with recruiting a few novice pathfinders to teach the route. He also had a few coded messages that were meant to be passed on to some of the backers that had helped fund this expedition.
The eight- or nine-day passage between Savar and the Oasis compared competitively to the alternate route of traveling from Savar to the Oasis via Luxor. The latter took two five-day trips, taking slightly longer but requiring less supplies to be carried for each leg of the journey and making it easier to reach safety if anything went wrong. Travelling straight from Savar to the Oasis did have the benefit of easier transportation of illicit goods, something Zar was looking to take advantage of in his quest to turn the Oasis into a black market, a hub for any and all sinful wares.
The first step in his plan to do so to give his new domain a proper name. The rarity of Oases meant that calling it ‘The Oasis’ meant that everyone involved so far knew what the speaker was referring to, but Zar wanted his place to have a memorable name, one that could gather its own fame and proclaim that his settlement had more to offer than just water for the weary traveler or trader.
Zar’s Bazaar was suggested and immediately shot down. It was the name for a small shop or emporium, a name that projected a friendly and punny air to draw in customers. Referring to the Oasis as a bazaar might be true, especially at first, but Zar wanted to grow his investment beyond that. He wanted to rule over a city that could compete with Luxor, Savar or any of the other cities with ease, a thriving place of mercantile activity and life that enriched him with every transaction completed.
The egotistical adventurer did like the idea of including his name as part of the city’s title, and Kairen and the rest of the camp were subjected to hundreds of awful ideas as he meticulously tried out every possible syllable combination in his search for the perfect name. Zaros was the eventual winner, even if some of the workers seemed adamant on making Zarden an unofficial name for the place, much to Zar’s irritation. A part of Kairen wished that he could offer his own input, could participate in the effort to name himself, but it was only idle dreaming and was quickly shut down by the much larger portion of his mind that refused to cooperate with the slavers and murderers on anything, even something as frivolous as a name. It wasn’t like the ghost had any better ideas either, simply a distaste for Zar.
Kairen had larger problems to worry about anyways, some of which he could only partially work to fix. His burgeoning rat population was one such issue, and had finally come to a head.
Muffled squealing filled the air around the campfire. Most of the men present were busy eating a rough meal for dinner, but their eyes were fixed on a reedy fellow who was busy providing entertainment for his companions. The man had a rat firmly grasped in his left hand, which he held forwards for everyone to easily see. For the moment, the rat was alive, but its jaw had been broken to prevent it from biting its captor, not that it stopped the rat from squirming or making noise. His other hand held a sharp knife, which he spun around boney fingers while listening to the conversation taking place.
“Couple of copper says he can’t make it more than halfway.” A brute of a man to his left argued. “It already has a broken jaw and a cut leg. Rab here isn’t fast enough to get further than half before it dies of blood loss or shock.”
“I’ll take that bet.” Someone else across the cooking fire called back. “Anyone else got something to wager?”
“A round of drinks for everyone if Rab makes it all the way!” was met by a series of boos.
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“How the fuck is anyone supposed to take you up on that bet? Wager something for a single person, not the whole crew, dumbass. And pick something other than drink. It works fine for betting in a bar, but not so much out here where we only have water and piss-poor wine to drink. If you’ve got a secret stash that’s one thing, but otherwise put your money where your mouth is or shut up.
The young man flushed at the insults, but managed to hold onto his cool enough to keep from starting anything. He muttered a response under his breath that no one could make out, before grabbing his bowl of soup and stalking off.
“I’ll put a silver on you not getting the head off.” Someone else picked up the thread of conversation and the betting continued. With no women, no strong alcohol, and none of the amenities that could be found in more established towns the workers found their evenings filled with boredom. The few sets of dice and crude cards that had been brought along were highly coveted, the rest of the workers had to make do with whatever forms of fun they could create.
With the betting wrapped up the reedy man began his macabre work. Starting from the back leg he had crippled when catching the rat, he began to carefully insert the blade, keeping it shallow and carefully cutting away at the supporting structure for the skin. A few of his audience argued that he was taking too long, but were quickly heckled down. It was hard for their compatriots to take their argument seriously when everyone knew that the pair had money riding on the skinner messing up at one point or another.
Kairen could only watch on in horror. The cruelty in front of him was the idle work of evil hands, the pastime of people whose ability to care ended with themselves. Fortunately, Kairen wasn’t the only being who objected to their actions.
“Ah!” Rab cried out in pain, dropping both the knife and the rat as he jumped up in shock. “Something bit me!” It didn't take Kairen and the slavers long to find the culprit. Another rat, this one larger and stronger than the one that had gotten caught, was hard at work trying to pull his companion away from the fire and back to safety. Kairen recognized it as one of the smarter rats that he hadn’t gotten around to naming, and desperately he called out to it.
“Run! They’ll kill you too!” The rat glanced in his direction, but refused to leave his burden behind.
Kairen’s warning soon proved to be slightly incorrect. Instead of simply crushing the slow-moving rats, a dirty old cloak was used as an improvised net, trapping the rodents in a tangle of cloth.
“Blasted vermin” Rab muttered, glaring at the wiggling bundle and kicking it a few times.
“I know exactly what you mean. Here I was, about to win all that money, and that little fucker had to bite you and ruin it all.”
“Were you watching the same thing I was? Rab killed the rat minutes ago, and it was only twitching because he was moving it. It certainly wasn’t moving any when the big one was pulling it away.”
“Only reason you couldn’t see it moving was because you only have one eye!”
“Enough!” Rab cut the betting argument short. “The game was interrupted, so no one wins. I’ll try and catch another rat later to have another go with. But I have something special in mind for these two.”
Picking up the cloak he began limping his way towards the pond, talking as he went. There was a wild undercurrent in his voice, a subtle promise of pain and violence turned mad. “There aren’t many places to try this in the Sands, but I heard from a foreign adventurer once that drowning is considered one of the worst ways to die. There are more painful methods of killing someone, and more drawn-out methods as well, but very few methods that put as much pressure on the victim to stay alive as drowning does.”
“You can only do so much if you’re bleeding out, and poison either kills you or it doesn’t, but if you’re drowning you'll be fine as long as you can hold your breath. That big fucker had smarts. It knew I was hurting another rat and it wanted me to stop. Now I want it to know that all it did was get itself killed.” Finished with his speech Rab took a minute to grab a piece of rope and tie the cloak shut, before tossing the whole bundle into the pond. Everyone watched on as the rats began to struggle violently, causing the water to ripple as they struggled to move around and find air, but slowly the cloak became more and more waterlogged, steadily dropping lower and lower in the water. The struggles began to die down as well, but they didn’t entirely stop, not even when the cloak submerged, leaving a small trail of bubbles heading towards the surface as the last of the air was forced out. Finally, after a few tense minutes, the movement stopped.
Rab waded into the pond to retrieve his coat, untying the knots he had formed before opening it up and shaking it out. However, no dead rats appeared. Instead, a series of holes was visible, steadily growing from where the cleansing magic of the Oasis was eating away at the dirty cloth. Despite being unable to swim, despite being beaten and hurt, despite everyone watching the spot where the cloak had sunk the rats had somehow managed to find a way out to safety.
It was a victory, however small, but Kairen knew that it was just the initial battle of a long war. The humans now knew about the rats, and would put far more effort into removing the pests. The rats had been attacked, and had lost most of their fear of being seen. Their newfound hatred for the humans drove them to act far more aggressively than they had before. No longer would they be content to simply hide and the shadows hoping to be left alone.
It was war.