I left at the break of dawn. I’m convinced mother heard me leave, but pretended not to. Knowing her, she’s probably glad I left.
- Uuriintuya, Second Prophet of the Adjha’nai. Dated 60 b.f.
“Why would you just agree to that? Next time we are asked to infiltrate a dangerous, beast-worshipping cult, maybe ask what the rest of us think about it?” Silas snapped at Nurana.
Nurana gave him a glance. “Lower your voice, Silas. We are still near the palace. Just keep walking.”
Silas opened his mouth again, only to emit a sudden yelp as Gnarly pinched his chest. Silas made his displeasure clear through the bond, eliciting a series of creaks from under his cloak.
The sun beat down on them relentlessly, and the sweat stuck to their clothes as they made their way into the lower part of the city. After being escorted out of the throne room by Nianda, she had introduced them to Omei, the informant who would act as their contact person from now on. He had provided them with a set of vials that were supposed to combat the Taint, although he made it clear that if they wanted more than to prevent its corruption from spreading across their Landscapes, they needed to deliver results, first.
Tall buildings lined the street on each side, most of their front walls replaced entirely by smooth, see-through glass. One such store displayed various types of spears and had Silas not seen the doorway in the middle, he might have walked right against the glass to take a peek at the various weapons displayed inside the shop. Smooth, carved arches of sandstone connected both sides of the glass wall, deep red letters carved into the stone, the late desert sun giving it a rich, vivid sheen. ‘Salomon’s Spears,’ it read. Silas sighed. Just from a glance inside, he doubted he’d be allowed to step in.
Never before had he seen such an abundance of glass. Even in big cities like Bryme, only the wealthiest people could afford glass. It gave the whole city a feeling of openness as if you could just turn a corner and find yourself in a completely new world, only to discover that while you may see, you could not pass.
They followed the main street down the city, the harbor sitting at the far low end, hugging the crescent bay of Southern Seas. The sheer endless expanse of blue stretched itself before them as far as the eye could see. A few fishing boats roamed the waters, though most of them stayed within the sheltering confines of the city’s bay. The further down they walked, the less elaborate the shops became. Some still had glass panels, but most opted for sandstone walls, with the occasional window in between.
They walked into a tailor somewhere downtown, getting a set of lighter clothing to shelter them from the desert sun, though Silas kept the cloak he’d gotten from Tom. Zaya and Nurana opted for wide, white robes, bound tight by sashes around their waists. Nurana insisted on each of them getting one of the hats they had seen everybody wear. The way the cloth was draped reminded Silas of a bird’s nest. He felt a bit ridiculous wearing it on his head, but with his light skin marking him as Ceraviehlian, he didn’t need any more attention than he already attracted.
Coming down from the hill that the Empress’ palace was built on, merchants soon lined the streets, hollering their wares from carts or tables, some of them having a little roof of canvas to invite anyone to rest from the heat while looking at their wares. In a corner, a lone man sat playing a long, white flute, his draped headcloth, apparently called a Yekshi in Drakhonian, placed before him. Leathery, dark skin was pulled taut over his head. Bushy brows concealed his eyes. A few coins glinted within the white cloth of his Yekshi.
One merchant sold little glass figures with colored shapes within them that reflected the sunlight in a myriad of colors. Silas almost bumped into Zaya as she slowed her step. Nurana, not missing a beat, simply grabbed Zaya by the arm and dragged her along. “No time for that.”
“You always so serious, Nurana. Need to be more relaxed, sometime.”
“Of course I’m serious. We just got force-recruited into infiltrating the cult by the most powerful woman in the entire Endless Sands, and you want to look at some glass figurines?” she hissed at Zaya, her shifting eyes trying to see if any bystanders overheard their conversation.
“Yet you still agreed,” Silas argued.
“Whether I agreed or not wouldn’t have mattered.”
Silas frowned. Nurana sighed and slowed down, pulling them into a corner from a shop to let the people behind them pass. “Think about it, Silas. Our group consists of one Ceraviehlian, an Adjhin’tor, and a half-Drakh who were hunted by the Legion’s Invokers and stranded in Nu-Taquim after being exposed to the Taint.
What do you think would happen if we were to just…disappear? Nothing. No one would care. In addition, we need medical treatment neither of us is able to afford. While Nu-Taquim may be near the sea, you can’t just walk through the Desert on foot. You need a Sandcruiser to traverse the sands, and where are we supposed to get one without the Empress finding out? In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t exactly blend in. A group of three foreigners trying to discreetly escape from the city are sure to attract attention.” Nurana sighed. “We weren’t asked by the Empress to infiltrate the cult, Silas. We were ordered. The only reason the Empress offered the medicine as a reward was so she had something to prevent us from joining the Ascended, rather than infiltrating them.”
The more Nurana spoke, the more Silas began to see the hopelessness of their situation. They were trapped either way. “But then why recruit us, and not her own kind?”
“Because we new to city, and no one know us,” Zaya let her eyes roam over the pedestrians. Many of them wore veils covering their faces, faint glimpses of dark pupils shining through the light material.
“Still seems odd, though,” Silas mused. “Why didn’t she send someone with more experience to do it, then?”
“Who says she didn’t?” Nurana said. “The Empress is bound to have more spies, I doubt we’re the only ones. Make no mistake. You may be Wielders and while that may be impressive on its own, I don’t think the main reason why we were ordered was she thinks we’re competent.”
Zaya cursed under her breath as she realized what Nurana was implying. “Nothing to lose.”
“Exactly. We’re not the perfect fit to be her agents.” Nurana grimaced. “We’re just expendable. The fact that both of you are already Wielders is just a bonus. If we get captured by the cult, we won’t be able to betray the Empress because we have no information to spill. For her, it’s a win-win. The fact that both of you are already Wielders is just the icing on the cake.”
“And for us, it’s either infiltrating a fanatical cult or getting disappeared by the Empress.” Silas shook his head. “Wonderful.”
“Glad you caught up. Now, let’s find a tavern and get some food. We need a plan, especially with that thing we...” Nurana threw a pointed look at Silas and Zaya, “...decided to keep hidden from The Empress.”
“At least now, we’re likely to get access to the library to find out more about it.”
Nurana let out a short laugh. “Keep your optimism, Silas. I feel like we’re going to need it.”
The street continued to wind down, heading straight toward the port of Nu-Taquim. After a while, a large square with a fountain featuring a statue of a large lizard opened up in front of them. Clear water sprouted from its snout. An elderly man stood on a large crate, a crowd gathered before him.
“For when She comes, She will reward the faithful. The resurrection of what was lost, our heritage will be awakened once more. She will aid each one of you,” the man paused, his pointed finger roaming over the crowd, his gaze resting on Silas for a moment, “to reach the full potential of what lies dormant in us, repressed by those who usurped the Originals! There is strength in unity, my friends, and in these trying times, with our armies preparing for a war not justified by need, but political scheming, we must stand together! For She is our only hope to protect us from what is to come. But do not be fooled! While She is merciful to those who submit to her might, her wrath is not something any human, be they Adjhin’tor, Ceraviehlian, or even Drakhonian such as ourselves, can withstand.” The man rested his hands on his shoulders and bowed before the crowd. “Before the Matriarch, all will bow.”
“He’s attracting quite the crowd,” Nurana said as they walked into the square.
“Why doesn’t the Empress just arrest him, though? I don’t think he’s a fast runner,” Silas said.
“Not sure, but I can imagine that would just make it worse. I wonder what war he is talking about. If the Drakhonian Empire joins the Adjhin’tor, it doesn’t look too good for Ceraviehl.”
“Let’s leave, we’re attracting way too many looks.” Silas adjusted his hat, shying away from the glances sent their way.
Zaya led them towards a street branching off from the square.
“Is it true, father? Does the Matriarch really exist?” a child’s voice came from behind them.
Silas peeked over his shoulder. A tall, wiry man looked down at a small girl, a scowl on his face. “Don’t you believe these fanatics, Eihna. Nothing but fables to attract simple-minded people.”
As they turned away from the square, the streets branched off into smaller alleys, each one growing narrower the nearer they came to the port. Silas pointed at a shimmering sign made of glass hanging near a large door that portrayed a man weaving the sand into some kind of chair. “From the noise coming through, this has to be a tavern.”
“Prefer place more quiet,” Zaya grumbled.
“Creak,” Gnarly assented.
“Me too, but we need information if we are to,” Nurana paused, “accomplish what we mean to. But let’s forget about this for a moment and eat something first. We can panic later.”
Zaya grunted and walked up the stone stairs, pushing open the door. A refreshing wave of cool air greeted Silas as soon as he stepped inside, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from him. He doubted he’d ever get used to the sweltering heat. People sat around large tables or leaned against the long, polished counter. Instead of wood, it was made of a vivid, red stone Silas couldn't place.
A young man started to wind his way through the tables and greeted them with an easy smile, his eyes widening slightly as he saw Silas. He wore a smooth, velvet vest that hugged his shoulders and black pants that seemed to reflect the glow from the Magelights hanging from the ceiling. A neatly trimmed line of black facial hair went from one side of his ear to the other. Silas inwardly frowned. That man had no right to look this good for working in a tavern. His brown eyes shone as his gaze rested on Nurana. “Welcome to the Sculptor’s Aid! My name is Adrian. What can I do for you fine people?”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Nurana returned the smile, leaning in. “Thank you for the warm welcome, Adrian. We’d like a room for three to settle in and perhaps some food afterwards.”
Gnarly creaked, displeased at having been excluded. Silas sent him thoughts of fresh fruit and Gnarly’s mood immediately shifted from annoyed to hungry.
“Certainly! We have one room with four beds left, would that be alright?”
“That would be wonderful, yes.”
Adrian led them up the narrow, stone staircase and shifted through a keychain he fished out of his pocket and opened one of the rooms near the end of the hallway. Wishing them goodbye with another smile, he closed the door after them, his steps echoing down the hallway.
The room was cramped for four beds, but considering they had a bed at all, Silas wouldn’t complain. Nurana bid Adrian farewell and locked the door after him. “Here are the three vials Omei gave us. Taking them as soon as possible is best, I think.”
Silas sat down with his legs crossed and leaned his back against the bedframe. “I agree. If I suddenly start to convulse, hit me or something.”
“Will do, Nura Kai. Always be here for you,” Zaya assured him.
“Do you remember the instructions Omei gave us?” Nurana asked.
“Of course,” Silas replied, irritated. “I’m not stupid.”
Zaya looked at him from over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised.
Silas held her stare. Although he tried to look annoyed, the amused look on Zaya’s face made it difficult for him to hold on to his anger.
Omei had given them each a set of three vials. In them was a thick, nondescript grey liquid. If it hadn’t come in a vial, Silas might have mistaken it for mud. He had to remind himself that if the Empress wanted to kill them, they’d probably already be dead. Silas gulped it down and closed his eyes to focus on his Inner Landscape.
As usual, it was suffused with violet clusters of lightning, the Taint spasming as it formed tendrils of energy that reached further into his Landscape. A rising heat began to form in his stomach, burning against its walls. Silas instinctively cramped up against the sudden pain.
Omei had warned him about it, but Silas had trouble staying focused, nonetheless. Taking one more breath, he synced the pulsing agony in his stomach to his heartbeat and slowly began to guide it towards his Inner Landscape. The energy, or entropy as Omei had called it, lashed out at him, each pulse feeling like his head had been caught between an anvil and a hammer.
Yet he endured. He had to regain control over his Arts. The year-long training under Tom’s tutelage hadn’t been for nothing, and he wouldn’t ever be able to become more powerful than his master if he let himself be stopped now. Neither would he be able to protect Gnarly.
The swirling, black ball of entropy calmed down gradually, seeming almost docile as it waited for an outlet. Silas was more than happy to give it one. The moment it made contact with one of the Taint’s clusters, a searing agony erupted in Silas’ chest. The entropy ate away at the Taint, causing some of the tendrils to unwound, hanging loosely from the cluster as they slowly regrew.
It was now or never.
Shoving the pain in the back of his mind, Silas began to unravel the massive knot, wedging the mist from his Inner Landscape in between the gaps of the cluster to prevent it from tightening again. Bit by bit, the entire cluster became loose, his Landscape working to dissolve the wriggling tendrils of violet Taint.
Almost half a dozen clusters, some bigger, some smaller, lived in his Inner Landscape, pulsing with lightning as they reached ever deeper. He might have destroyed one of them, but if left untreated, Silas had no doubt more would form.
Something rose in Silas’ stomach, and in a big heave, he vomited onto the stone floor.
Gnarly’s voice came through the bond. Silas shook his head to assuage his friend.
“Did you have to do that here?” Nurana held one hand to her mouth, turning away from the small pool of deep, almost red vomit.
Zaya glanced over her shoulder, mouth open before she got a look at Silas, her face abruptly turning serious. She stood up and was beside Silas in two quick strides. “You be alright?”
“Yes, the medicine is rather aggressive, is all.” Silas waved her off. “Thanks for caring, though.”
Zaya huffed. “Maybe go to bathroom next time. Not want to see puke every time you take medicine.”
Confused by her sudden change in demeanor, Silas resigned himself to cleaning the vomit off the floor.
“Did it work for you?” he asked Zaya.
“Yes. Have only two or three balls of Taint left. Can use Arts again, better now. But Taint grows fast. Not know how much medicine we need.”
“Depending on when we will get it, at least one more dose.” Nurana clucked her tongue. “If they were to give us all of it now, I have no doubt we could defeat the Taint in a few days. Instead, they wait for it to fester and make sure we’re dependent on them.”
“Seems weird for the Empress to hand out these cures when the healers said they couldn’t do anything. If these are so hard to get, why would she so readily dole out resources to a group of strangers?” Silas argued.
“Few Artists ever reach the stage of Wielder, Silas. We’re not your usual group of people passing through a city. I’m guessing the Empress saw us and decided to make an investment. I’m only worried what we have to do to return it.”
“Me too.” Zaya stood up and looked at them. “But also be hungry. Let’s eat and worry after.”
Silas’ stomach agreed, so they headed back downstairs. Adrian found them before they had fully descended. Seeing their faces, he immediately beckoned them towards a recently vacated table right beside the stage, which was elevated by a small set of stairs. “This table near the front just became free, would you like to sit there?”
“That would be wonderful, thank you, Adrian,” Nurana answered.
The chairs were, as was most other furniture in the room, made of sandstone. Their endpoints were shaped into half-circles, and flower-shaped glass casings for candles sprouted from the center of the table.
“Quite fancy for a tavern. Sure we can afford this?” Silas asked as they sat down.
“Glass is almost as common as wood in Ceraviehl. Their prices aren’t as high as you might think,” Nurana explained.
They had been granted a bit of budget from the Empress, but asking Omei for more funds was not something Silas wanted to do. He already felt suspicious that she had given them medicine to treat their affliction of the Taint. While he was grateful he might be able to cleanse his Landscape from the Taint, he’d prefer to do it without indebting himself further to the Empress.
Adrian reappeared a moment later. “For today, we have a fresh cut of Algosh, served in a bowl of green lentils and a quarter loaf of our freshly baked bread,” he said, gesturing at a nearby table. Perhaps some lime tea to drink? If you haven’t tried it yet, you just have to.” He stopped gesticulating for a moment as his eyes rested on Nurana.
“We’ll gladly take it,” she answered, one hand trailing her long hair.
“Food!”
Silas’ head jerked down at his chest where Gnarly was curled up.
“Yes, food,” Silas answered, not believing what he had just heard.
Silas flooded the bond with affirmation and love at hearing Gnarly speak for the first time. Silas had gotten so used to Gnarly’s way of communicating with images and sensations that Silas hadn’t thought Gnarly might start to speak. Gnarly’s voice was unlike anything he had ever heard, with a faint, high-pitched creaking underlying its rumbly enunciation. The sounds were still a bit off, but Silas couldn’t be more proud.
“Could you also bring a small bowl of fruit?” Silas passed on Gnarly’s request, smiling from ear to ear.
“Of course.” He returned his gaze towards Nurana. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Not for now, but thank you Adrian.”
Adrian walked off with a smile and Zaya leaned into Silas. “What happen?”
“Gnarly just said his first word.”
Gnarly popped out of his cloak at hearing his name and creaked in affirmation.
“He do? Much smart, big tree already!” Zaya praised Gnarly as she scratched his bark. “Shame we can’t hear him.”
“I don’t think his throat is capable of speaking the way we do, but it’s amazing he can understand human speech and replicate it through the bond. Quite rare, I think.” Nurana added, also joining in on petting Gnarly.
Zaya watched Adrian move through the other tables with ease, his steps so light it almost seemed he was dancing. “He be too happy.”
Nurana shrugged, watching after him as he disappeared into the kitchen. “He’s pretty, though.”
“Not trust pretty people,” Zaya insisted. “One with too much happiness must hide something.”
“He did seem a bit weird,” Silas agreed.
Zaya smirked at him. “Why, you be jealous because he only look at Nurana?”
“What? No, I’m not—“
“He didn’t look only at me,” Nurana interrupted Silas. “He had plenty of looks to spare for Silas, as well.”
Silas gave Nurana a half-hearted kick under the table, eliciting a snicker from the latter.
“He do look good,” Zaya admitted.
Silas frowned at her. “He’s not that good-looking,” he grumbled, happy that another server arrived with their food.
Silas couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten in a tavern. It had been way too long. The food was much too spicy, but Silas managed, if barely. While Tom’s cooking had been good, there was only so much you could do in a cabin in the woods. The meat was soft, a perfect compliment to the bowl of lentils, and the bread was warm and fluffy. For but a moment, he could pretend that things were going well, that there was no Taint corrupting his Landscape, and that they weren’t force-recruited into what was essentially a suicide mission.
Adrian’s voice broke Silas out of his musings. “You decided to visit the Sculptor’s Aid at the right time, my friends. The Weaver is just about to begin. Can I serve you anything to drink? A round of Buksh, perhaps?”
Nurana leaned forward, putting one elbow on the table as she looked up at him. “That would be wonderful, Adrian.”
Adrian smiled. His eyes lingered on Nurana as he turned around and left.
Zaya cocked an eyebrow at Nurana. “We be drinking today? Maybe want table for only you and pretty boy?”
Nurana smiled mischievously. “Maybe I do? But sadly, I think we have more important things to do than getting drunk.”
“He’s not that pretty,” Silas grumbled but was drowned out by the music.
“Much responsible,” Zaya agreed. “But looks good, don’t you think?” She glanced towards Adrian, who emerged from behind the counter with three plates and tall, carved glasses holding a slightly yellowish liquid. A slice of lime had been wedged onto the edge of the glass.
Nurana rested her chin on her palm and sighed. “That he does.”
Zaya turned to her, a smirk on her lips. “Was talking about glasses.”
Silas had to agree with her. Formed like crescent moons, they had a heavy, flat base connected to a thin tube that went upwards diagonally to meet the main body of the glass just below the top.
Adrian placed their drinks on the table, taking a heartbeat longer than necessary as he looked at Nurana. Silas rolled his eyes.
“The thin tube here,” Adrian began, pointing at the glass tube connecting the top and bottom part of the crescent-shaped glass, a brownish liquid swirling within, "is mostly filled with sugar. If you find the drink too strong, you can use the straw to blow more sugar into the main part of the drink. The more sugar, the sweeter it gets."
“Thank you, Adrian, these look wonderful,” Nurana said. “Did you do them yourself?”
“I normally don’t, but I wanted to make sure they were perfect, so I made them myself.” He leaned in conspiratorially, holding a hand to his mouth. “Don’t let the other guests hear that, though.”
Nurana chuckled. “We won’t. You mentioned something about a Weaver earlier on?”
Adrian’s brown eyes widened. “You haven’t seen one yet? Hassin is one of the best Weavers in the city. It’s a truly wonderful show.”
“Why don’t you join us, then?”
Adrian’s cheeks flushed. “I-I’d love to, let me get a drink and I’ll be right back.”
The bald man currently preparing three drinks behind the counter threw Adrian a stare, but after a moment, the man’s face softened and he handed one of them over to Adrian.
Taking a seat at the remaining vacant chair around their table, Adrian rested his elbows on the table and leaned in. “A Weaver is someone who uses the Art of Sand to tell a story. My father, that man whose head serves as a second light source from how much he polishes it, used to be one.” Nurana let out a sudden laugh, one hand held in front of her mouth. Silas rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that funny.
Adrian pointed at the bald man behind the counter. “He then turned to sculpting, for which he had more talent. Most of the chairs and tables here are crafted by him. The counter, too.”
Silas took a sip from his drink. Then another. “That’s really good.” He didn’t know what was in there, but Buksh had a decidedly sweet taste, with notes of citrus, other fruit, and herbs in it that he couldn’t place. It was a bit overwhelming, if he was honest. Not that he would say that to Adrian. The guy definitely didn’t need any more compliments.
“The second one tastes even better,” Adrian said with a wink.
“That’s the best drink I have ever had,” Nurana declared. “Thank you, Adrian.”
“How much experience do you have when it comes to drinking, Nurana? Aren’t servants of Ixchel forbidden from drinking alcohol?” Silas wondered. Zaya snickered.
Nurana glared at him.
Adrian put his hand to his chest. Silas noticed he had painted his nails black, matching his beard. “That is an honor coming from you, Nurana.”
Nurana tried to appear nonchalant as she waved him off. “Are you also a Weaver?”
Adrian’s smile slipped a little. “Sadly, I am not. Father tried to teach me, but I don’t have any talent in the Arts. My sister Yaesha did, but she volunteered for the army.”
“She volunteered? From what we’ve heard so far, not many people are fond of the Empress deciding to join the war,” Silas said.
Adrian shrugged. “Depends on who you ask. Times have been rough ever since we lost access to the farmlands of Bounty’s Reach some hundred years ago. Many people agree with the Empress’ intention to reclaim it. Most of our grain came from there. With it gone, the city is faring worse each year, especially the folk down at the harbor.”
The music started to slow down and seemingly at once, the whole tavern grew quiet. A man emerged from behind the counter, a large vase hovering behind him as he walked on the little stage.
“Oh, that’s Hassin,” Adrian exclaimed. The whole tavern was quiet by now, their gazes locked on the man with the vase of sand at his feet.