House Fedro

I’m glad she’s all right. Callan stood up and grinned fondly at Halari’s passed out form. He moved the sheet up to her chin before walking out of her room with soft steps; she bid him farewell with a light snore.

Viria met him in the hallway outside with crossed arms and a light scowl curling one corner of her mouth. In this moment, Callan saw the resemblance to Halari more than he had before. They both took on the exact same posture down to the foot placement when in a reproachful mood, as if the stance was a genetic trait passed down by generations.

“Have you even given her a basket yet?” the blonde asked.

The question took Callan wholly off-balance. “Excuse me?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, then snorted a scoff and spun away. “Men…” she muttered, walking off.

He stared after her at a loss, but amused. What did a basket have to do with anything? Callan shook his head gently, then followed. Wherever she was mentally, he clearly wasn’t on the same page.

Fedro and Glorida stood in their kitchen, preparing a plate of food together. Telero was nowhere to be found, a fact that Callan found himself slightly angered by. His sister was injured and the man was what? Scribing James’s lies in his room?

Halari’s parents stopped when he walked in.

“How is she?” Glorida asked, concern wrinkling her eyes. She’d been the first to notice the extent of Halari’s wounds and gathered all the medical supplies in the house.

“Sleeping, now,” Callan assured her. “Started snoring like a pig as soon as I walked out.”

“Like a what?” Viria asked.

“A pi— never mind.” He knew it was useless to try and describe the animal. A small pink creature that rolled around in the mud would sound something like an alien to them. “She’s out. Probably will be for a while. I’d let her sleep as long as she needs to tomorrow.”

“That girl…” Fedro groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can’t any of my kids just stay out of trouble?”

“Hey!” Viria looked offended. “I’m an easy daughter, pada. I never—” She cut off quickly, seeing the poignant look on her parents’ faces.

Smirking, Callan watched Fedro arch both brows at his youngest while his wife hid a giggle behind her hand. Halari had told him that her sister became kind of nuisance after discovering boys, and by the look on her father’s face that was something he found a great deal of stress in dealing with.

“Great Flame, do you want to join us for a late dinner?” Glorida asked. “We’ve got some leftover stew if you’re hungry.”

“Unfortunately I have other business,” Callan said, bowing his head slightly in respect for her offer. “But another time, certainly.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile. “Maybe when Hala’s feeling better?”

“Absolutely,” Callan said. “I look forward to it.” He bid them farewell and left, receiving another strange, disgruntled stare from Viria on his way to the door.

Outside, he found five figures standing awkwardly around the perimeter of the house’s front yard. Halari’s team wouldn’t meet his eyes, but one, a curly-haired young man, stepped forward.

“M-My lord.” He saluted sharply. “Is Lady Halari alright?”

“She’s resting,” Callan said. “And she’s agreed that from now on, nobody is to go off alone. Including herself. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Great Flame!” all of them said in unison with salutes.

“We-we’re sorry for failing today,” the curly-haired youth said. “We almost let our captain die. I can, uh, I-I can take any discipline for my team.”

“Kanu!” another scout, this one a young woman with bright yellow and brown hair, called out in clear alarm. “We already said it wasn’t your fault!”

“But I-I’ll still take responsibility, Stenna,” Kanu said. “She’d do the same for us.” His eyes were wide, flickering all about, and Callan’s own enhanced vision didn’t miss the little beads of sweat clinging to his forehead despite the chill of night.

“That’s very admirable, Scout Kanu,” Callan said, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “However, Captain Halari would never forgive me for doling out punishment to her own people, especially on her behalf. So to me, you’re all off the hook. As a favor, I will ask that in the future, do insist she follow the buddy rule. I have a feeling she might try to… overlook it again. You have my blessing.”

A collective sigh of relief sounded through the whole group.

“W-We will, Great Flame.” Brave Kanu appeared as if he was about to fall over from relief. Callan patted him twice on the shoulder on release, then dismissed them all to return to their homes.

He walked through the sleepy streets back towards the Temple, worry for Halari’s well-being nipping at his heels every step of the way. Part of him wanted to go back and camp out to make sure recovered fully, but he pressed on, deciding to check on her in the morning before the trade meeting.

Loud clacks and grunting from nearby told him that Dalvo had his squad training late like usual. The captain pushed his people hard, but they seemed to respect him enough to not mind the long days.

And they’re certainly coming along quite impressively, Callan assessed, stopping to peer down one of the alleys towards the training yard. Dalvo had paired himself with his tallest squad member, but had him trapped in a strong leglock. Between special combat education from Old Bear and shooting lessons with Halari, the short man was skyrocketing in terms of fighting potential. All one needs is a little direction and focus to bring the talent out.

At the Temple, the dustbunny met him at the inside of the door to his office, and apparently expected somebody else because it whipped a long ear at his boot then bounded back over to its small bed and glowered at him.

“Yes, yes, it’s just me,” Callan muttered. “She’s away right now, but I’m sure she’ll come feed you tomorrow if she’s feeling better.”

It beeped at him, then burrowed into its pile of blankets until he could no longer make it out in the sheets of cloth. Callan sat down on his chair and finally allowed himself to unwind; the tension seeped out of him like honey through a crack. Halari was alright. Beat up, certainly. But safe. It was not happening again.

‘Lucky this time,’ the skull whispered, disappointed. ‘It’ll run out eventually. I’ll wait. What’s more time down here?’

Callan closed his eyes and did his best to ignore its voice, which was less skeletal whisper and more of the melodic that he remembered. That was worse. He felt the vault he tried burying all the pain in straining more and more as it pushed.

It was going to break soon.

Something nudged his foot. Callan looked down to see that the dustbunny had loped over to him. It rammed its forehead into him boot again, surprisingly strong for its compact size.

“What?” he grumbled. The dustbunny headbutted him again and beeped, then looked up at him and flicked both ears at his ankle. “What do you want? I already fed you tonight.” It beeped again but didn’t move. With a sigh, Callan reached down tentatively and scooped it up in one hand. The creature was weightless to him as he placed it on his lap and started petting it behind the ears. “Knew I’d win you over eventually.”

“I’m fine and I wanna go,” Halari said. She sat up from her bed and groaned, putting a hand to her head with her good arm.

Clearly in great shape, Callan thought although he didn’t say it aloud. “It’s just a standard trade deal. You’re not missing anything. Unless Norio causes trouble.”

Halari laughed lightly. She seemed in good spirits having gotten some rest through the night, but she still bore most of her injuries even with the advanced medicine they’d found in the city.

“Ughh… fine,” she huffed, rubbing at her bandaged arm. “It’s not like I’ve been crippled or something.”

“You need more rest,” Callan said, mood souring as he prepared to bring up the decision he’d spent the night contemplating. “Before I go, there is something we need to discuss. After what happened to you, I feel it might be best to… scale down the search for Jora.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Halari’s face fell, saddening right before his eyes. “It’s…it’s only been a few days. I can find her. My team can…” She trailed off and frowned taking in her current condition.

“In my old time,” Callan began, grimacing, “those in law enforcement used to say about missing persons that after forty-eight hours the person was most likely dead. And that was when the world was the most connected, the safest it had ever been. Now, though…”

“I know,” Halari sighed, shaking her head. “I just… What do I tell her brother?”

“That you’re still looking,” Callan said. “I’m not saying to stop the search. Just scale it down. We have no leads, no trail, and now a sizeable region of the city nobody can search. But, if you give me a number of people you think would be best to keep on it, it’ll be done.”

Halari thought for a long moment, face somber. “Three teams, six people total. East and north sides only.”

“And so it shall be,” Callan said. “This isn’t giving up, Halari. It’s keeping who you can safe.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said with a deep frown, “but I just wish I could’ve found her. Even just a little bit of proof.”

Callan reached out and took her hand, squeezing it to provide some kind of comfort. Halari sadly smiled at him in thanks and squeezed back.

“I best get going.” He rose after idling for a long moment. “I need to make sure Norio doesn’t try to bail of out coming today.”

“Don’t forget I need a new knife,” Halari reminded him, curling back up on her bed. “Something single-edged and weighty.”

“I’ll see what they have in stock,” Callan said at the door. “Now go back to sleep. I’ll return in a few hours.”

He caught Viria in the den. She was clumsily disassembling her boltshot sidearm and polishing each piece, and seemed very focused on her task.

“Viria.” Callan called to her a couple times before she jerked her head towards him like he’d just appeared out of thin air and startled her.

“Hm!” the blonde chirped, almost dropping the firing pin onto the floor.

“Please make sure Halari doesn’t try to follow or anything,” Callan said. “I wouldn’t put it past her to try and make a surprise appearance out of stubbornness.”

“Heh, yeah..” Viria giggled as she continued to clean her weapon. All scouts carried one in their kits along with binoculars and lengths of rope. “I’ll make sure she stays in bed.”

“Thank you,” Callan said with a departing wave.

He slipped outside and made his way up the ramp toward the rendezvous point for the trading party. They had more to give today, but still weren’t a major commercial force quite yet. Charged Cells were worth quite a lot, but food was also a valuable market.

“My lord!” Norio waved him over to where he stood surrounded by his employees. Despite the usual stale coolness of the day, the man sweated like he’d just run a marathon. “Now, my people are all informed and at your service. I’ve made sure they know to fol—”

“You’re coming, Norio,” Callan cut him off. “I’ll guard from Kurt’s wrath, but you’re not slipping out of today.”

“Ah, of course, but my lord, think of the profits,” Norio tried, nervously tapping his bulbous belly so it wobbled like the bowl of mashed ashbuds Callan had brought Halari for breakfast. “You’ll get a much greater bargain if I’m not there.”

Callan didn’t respond, just stared at the man with slightly flared irises. The merchant shimmied around awkwardly and avoided his gaze.

“Truly, O Great One…” Norio began to protest, then slumped, gut protruding like a great melon from under his shirt. “Very well. Please bury me with Silvers upon my imminent death.”

“You’ll be just fine, Trade Master,” Callan said, climbing onto one of their trawlers and revving the engine just like Halari had shown him. Despite being made of incredibly advanced technology, they were such cumbersome vehicles and not at all like the fine-tuned instruments of engineering of his prime. He vaguely wandered whatever happened to his garage of vintage vehicles that he’d kept stored in the city.

I assume vaporized with the rest of it, he thought grimly, hitting the accelerator. The trawler lurched forward, almost sending him flying off the back in a way that would’ve been most embarrassing. Halari actually had laughed at him the first time he’d tried taming one of these mechanical beasts and found himself sprawled spread-eagle on the stony ground. Of course, hearing her laugh was not at all an unpleasant experience.

Twenty minutes into the drive, Callan realized that leaving Norio in town might have been the best move for everybody involved. The man was clearly nervous and when the emotion took him, he talked.

And talked.

And talked.

Norio talked to his driver, to the two ATV escorts beside him, to the big trade trawler crew behind him and even tried to have a ten-minute long conversation with Callan about the time he’d haggled himself out of a bandit ambush with nothing but a bundle of pelts.

Great Melokon he loves to talk about money, Callan thought as the merchant began a tirade about his next ideas for the current Silvers-to-services wage ratio and the underutilization of the ten-denoted bill. Maybe I can ask Halari if this brutalist car has a self-destruct feature. Not that it would kill me.

They arrived to Fortune’s Crossing ahead of schedule, allowing them to set up a full security perimeter to dissuade any passing gildgrown force from attacking. The caravan from the Scrag Fort crawled up half an hour later, Kurt at its head. His tattooed face swiveled to sight Norio instantly and he approached with an energy akin to a bull seeing a red flag.

Beside Callan, Norio started to tremble and dabbed at the sweat beading on his forehead.

“M-my lord, I think—”

“Hold, Norio.” Callan waved him to calm, then stepped forward to block Kurt’s path before he got within reach.

The broad man snorted in anger and tried to push past him, but a hand on his chest stopped him dead in his tracks. Kurt looked down; Callan was almost as tall but not nearly as wide, so to the Fort merchant there logically should’ve been no way to be stopped so fully, despite having experienced being hefted up completely by the same arm.

“Get moved, boy,” Kurt growled. “I got business with that little wasterat. You hear me, Norio! Get out here and fight me like a man!”

“Kurt,” Callan said, “spare a moment. My Trade Master has something to say in the name of good faith and better fortune.”

“If he ain’t begging at my toes in the next ten seconds,” Kurt said, fists balling at his sides, “I’m feeding him to my hounds.”

“I can’t promise that,” Callan said. He turned back around and waved Norio forward. The portly merchant shook his head vigorously and shuffled backwards, but one of his own employees nudged him forward.

“Uh, K-Kurt, my old friend,” Norio started with a light bow, “it’s be-been quite a while.”

“Ten.” Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. “Nine.”

“I’m a-aware we didn’t part on the best of terms.” Norio pulled at his collar and wiped rivers of sweat from his face. “But I beli—”

“Eight,” Kurt growled, stepping forward. “Seven.”

“ImsorryIcalledyourwifeacragbeastsbride,” Norio spat out so fast it came out like one word. “Shesreallyquitelovely, I swear.”

Is that what happened? Callan held back a chuckle and shook his head.

Kurt huffed. “And?”

“And, u-uh,” Norio flushed deeply. “I greatly apologize for comparing your two wonderful children to the hatchlings of an ashhawk. I get so ummm impassioned by the art of the deal that my temper can escape me.”

“AND?”

“Oh, brother Kurt, surely we can consider the last one a joke,” Norio begged. At least the Fort trader got that satisfaction. “Between fellow merchants?

When Kurt’s glare didn’t move, Norio crumpled like a can.

“And,” Norio sighed, fingers drumming his gut, “I apologize for indicating that your intellect was like that of a great stone sinking into a slog of my own waste.”

“Is that a satisfactory apology?” Callan asked.

“Good enough, barely,” Kurt said, eyes narrowed. “But you’re steppin’ on thin ash, Norio. Keep that tongue of yours on a tight leash.”

“Of course, of course,” Norio said. He hastily fled back to the line, where the same man who nudged him forward rolled his eyes and patted him on the back like the trade master was a child who needed comforting.

“Now that all is mended,” Callan said, “we’ve brought two cases of Cells and ten canisters of ashbud seed. What kind of deal can we expect?

“How about you take a look at our stock?” Kurt turned to his troupe and gestured for them to get moving. “Open ‘em up boys! We got customers!”

His people moved fast and opened up the metal shutters on their tall, brick-shaped trade vehicles. They each contained a specific category of goods within.

The first held crates of what looked to be vehicle parts, the second was lined with melee weapons some of which looked the same as the ones Kurt’s armed cohort wielded. Callan appraised those; they looked professionally forged and clearly designed with lethality in mind.

The third and fourth vehicles held guns and ammunitions crates respectively.

“For what you brought…” Kurt looked to be doing some math in his head. “Maybe three weapons crates, some melee weapons. Or you can get some parts, or hell, a crate from each.”

“Do you have any air filtration masks?” Callan asked, browsing the selection of commercial goods. “We need some.”

“Yeah, we got a few in the first one here,” Kurt said, guiding him over. “Whatcha need ‘em for?”

Callan studied the man closely. He didn’t want to reveal too much about their mission on the Spire, but if it was possible to get some extra muscle, then perhaps trading the Fort for it wouldn’t be the worst idea.

“Trade Master Kurt are you able to deal in manpower?” he asked after a moment. The big man glanced at him, confusion morphing the inky lines on his face.

“I mean… I can’t authorize that,” he grumbled, “but I can run an offer by my bosses at home. It’d be one hell of a price though. Why?”

“We recently received some information that there might be a good deal of resources within the Spire of Melokon,” Callan said. That was enough information to be a hook, especially to merchant like Kurt. “A great wealth in fact. But we can’t breach without masks and people.”

“That big tower in the city?” Kurt looked toward the horizon although Atlanta’s skyline wasn’t visible from this point. “What? Is it dangerous in there?”

“Very,” Callan said. “Hence the manpower.”

“Well, why wouldn’t I just try to get in?” Kurt asked. “And take all that rumored booty for myself?”

“It’s impenetrable,” Callan said, meeting the man’s eyes steadily. “Unless you have me.” He flared his irises brightly and allowed Melokon’s Fire to crackle across his fingers. If Kurt had anymore doubts about his nature, they vanished as the crimson and purple arcs flashed their light over his face. The man paled, but otherwise held his composure.

“We ain’t bowing,” Kurt said softly so only he heard. “You ain’t even supposed to be here.”

“I’m not asking you to bow,” Callan murmured back. “I am asking what the Fort’s allegiance costs. I will give a portion of the boon equal to the amount of manpower you give us. Twenty-percent for twenty men and so on, maximum fifty. But even at ten, you might still be responsible for the greatest trade deal in the last century for the Fort.”

“When would you want us?” Kurt asked. He looked more intrigued now than intimidated, and there was a hungry glint in his eyes, like a shark who’d just caught an undeniable whiff of blood in the water.

I’ve definitely got him. “Not for a while,” Callan said. “My soldiers still need training. We’ll get you word when it gets close to time.”

“I’ll talk to my bosses,” Kurt said, nodding. “Now, you wanna get back to the actual deal? And I’m gonna bet you want y’all want your usual yearly delivery, right?”

“Our usual delivery?” Callan asked. “What is it?”

“You know…” Kurt winked at him and Callan realized he had no idea what the man was talking about. “Y’all always get it around now. You know… the good stuff.”