Chapter Fifty

The sound of hoof beats receded, the sound carrying clearly over the sprawling plains, the entire earth seeming to become a stretched drum-skin on which the sound of thumping hooves could echo over and over and over... until the grass swallowed it whole, and nothing remained but the whining of insects, and the soft rustle of a light breeze. Carza's typing slowed to a halt, Kani's mourning became quieter and quieter... and Mrs Cauldron bustled over after a moment of heavy silence. Wrapping her daughter up in a rib-creaking hug, murmuring too softly for Carza to properly hear. For her own part, Carza simply took out her pistol, and started to examine the mechanisms. Everything working. Anthan had showed her how to clean and oil this thing, and more importantly, he'd showed her the importance of doing so. She clicked every little component, letting the sharp sounds soothe her nerves. If she needed to, she could have fought back. If she'd... Founder, if she'd fought back, those two slaves would be alive. The only thing restraining her had been necessity. Don't start a fight unless she had to. With the Sleepless, she'd been willing to leave Miss vo Larima imprisoned, willing to let that local girl die unavenged if it meant she could leave without having to fight.

She was a coward. Wouldn't have shot until it looked like they were going to be kidnapped. Cowardice was sickness, she thought. The kind which made her willing to let two old men die because they weren't her, because fighting would be riskier than remaining demure and quiet.

Coward. Useless. Couldn't save anyone in her expedition, but she sure could profit from them dying, from them sacrificing themselves. And even if she knew that was unfair, that they were independent agents who'd made their own choices, that she shouldn't drag everyone into some weird narrative about herself like an insane narcissist... even so. It was tempting. And she'd lived, they'd died... it didn't take much to start thinking of herself as a weak little coward who would let awful things happen around her if it meant she was allowed to live.

She saw Mrs Cauldron removing her daughter's disguise - even combing her hair back into a semblance of normality. Out of its mourning hairdo. A spark of paranoia ran through Carza.

"Maybe... we should keep up the act. Just until we're certain."

Mrs Cauldron blinked.

"...they don't usually come back, not when our menfolk are coming back themselves. They won't want a fight, not if they can't help it."

"But they could."

Kani coughed.

"I agree with Carza, mother. It might be wiser to... just play things safely. I think."

A small pulse of gratification.

"Well. If you think so."

Mrs Cauldron brushed down the front of her robe, and Carza saw that her hands were very slightly shaking - she was affected more by this than she was letting on. Trying to look resilient and unflappable, probably for her daughter's sake. But she'd been frightened. Carza could understand that - but she had to admit, what she found most uncanny was the civility of it all. No, not civility... etiquette. The politeness. The attempt to turn a savage raid into something sane and structured, but... well, a raid was a raid. And at the end of the day, it involved one group being at the mercy of another group, and if the stronger group wanted to murder a few slaves... it felt like a kettle. A kettle coming to a boil, screaming away, pressure building up higher and higher... something had to give. Something had to release all the steam, the heat, the unyielding force.

Sooner or later, something had to give.

"...I ought to take a look at the bodies. Shame, that they were so..."

She trailed off. Carza shot her a look... but remained silent. No more typing, at this point she was just staring ahead while chewing the inside of her cheek. Mrs Cauldron left the tent, looking around cautiously as she did so - but nothing stood out, apparently. Nothing alarming. Kani quietly drew her hood back, pinching the bridge of her nose while screwing her eyes shut. Carza hesitated for a second. A part didn't want to do anything. Just sit here, get on with... something, presumably. Type out an account of the raid while the memories were still fresh and her emotions were high, that sounded like a recipe for good academic objectivity. Right? If she remained distant, she wouldn't ever find herself in... another situation. No more Hulls. No more Liranas. Just... her. Alone, and unhurt. She was still mourning them, really. Even after a good few weeks, she still found herself occasionally looking around and thinking 'goodness, what would Hull think about this', before... well, snapping back to the present. Sometimes she'd think of home, and imagine an empty office. All those times Hull had come into her office, bearing brandy and asking if she had a spare glass. Sprawling in a chair and rambling about something interesting. No more of that. It'd be easier if she just cut herself off, just treated Kani as a research subject, treated the entire group here as subjects and hosts, nothing more.

Nothing which would hurt to lose.

Kani sniffed, and Carza involuntarily glanced - she wasn't crying, but she looked... stressed. The kind of shaking stress where it was easy to imagine crying, but the tension was too much to actuall perform the act. Like all the tear ducts were being sealed up through sheer, unrelenting focus. Crying would blind her, and if she was blind she couldn't run, and the tension told her she might need to run in the immediate future, so...

Another sniff, a cough, an awkward shrug as she tried to get herself under control...

Carza chewed the inside her cheek. Hard.

And spoke.

"Does this happen often?"

"Hm? Oh. Right. Yes. It's... been a while. Most of the menfolk have been warring in the west. So... not much need for raiding people like us. But... it happens. It happens."

"Happen often?"

"When I was much younger, yes. Sometimes they take children, sometimes not... my father took me up into the mountains with the men, just to be safe."

"So... what do they want?"

"Younger women, any woman of childbearing age, really... black-headed ones, too. Gold. Food. We'll be missing part of our herd, now."

She sniffed, and clenched her hands into fists, seemingly just to exert herself in any way she could. Carza wanted to reach over and give her shoulder a squeeze.

Didn't.

"...and this just... happens?"

"Does it not, where you come from?"

"...not hugely. No."

"Lucky. Quite lucky."

"And you just... avoid conflict, then?"

"If possible."

"Why? Why not try and defend yourselves, deter people from raiding to begin with?"

Kani hummed seriously, and nodded her head in solemn agreement.

"What a wonderful idea. I can't believe we never thought of it. Thank you for the enlightenment you bring to us humble peasants. I don't know how we got by without you."

Carza's eyes narrowed.

"I wasn't implying-"

"I know you weren't. But I was making a very funny joke."

"...right."

Founder, she had to note that 'deadpan humour is the way of things here, and it will make you feel very uncomfortable' in her ethnography. Just as a warning to scholars who came after her. Miss vo Larima would love it here, actually, she had an air of disaffected sarcasm that might... oh, Founder. Miss vo Larima was the last person to have seen her expedition, in the list of people who were familiar with her and might understand or empathise... someone from her home... Miss vo Larima topped the list. She'd seen the Sleepless, after all. Understood what it was like to be pushed to one's limits.

That was a... thought. Miss vo Larima was the closest thing she could find to a confidant who understood her current situation, and who could be talked to as a fellow countryman.

How peculiar.

"Imagine, Carza. Imagine... defending ourselves. We fight. Maybe we kill some of them, they kill some of us... no matter who wins, both sides will suffer losses. A man on a horse can cover a lot of territory. Herd a great deal. How long does it take to grow a chicken?"

Carza blinked.

"...not very long?"

"How long does it take to grow a horse?"

"Longer?"

"How long to grow a child into an adult?"

"Even longer?"

"Exactly. It takes time. Effort. Resources. We cannot afford to waste such things on people who will run off to die at the first opportunity. And if we defend ourselves, we create grudges. If we create grudges, we will eventually need to create more bodies. And... the Kralist make fine silk. But they are among the only people who can make fine silk. People will always want that luxury, but only the Kralist can provide it. So the Kralist will always be raided by every upstart clan-heart who wants to become an underground sun in the Iron Hall. You see?"

Carza hummed. Well... that made sense. In a depressing sort of way. People wouldn't stop wanting food, drink, free labour, luxurious materials... none of that was ever going to stop. And... well, a single bad tumble from a horse could make you an invalid for the rest of your life. A poor winter could kill you as surely as a bullet to the chest. Disease, random accidents, starvation... so why make life more dangerous? The raids were always going to happen, so why make them cost lives as well as gold and horses?

Why bother making life harder than it needed to be?

She couldn't tell if that was simple, well-intentioned pragmatism... or just depressing resignation. A thought occurred to her. Something the leader had said. And... yeah, this was helping Kani. Just talking, reasoning through things, repeating her own justifications for why this sort of thing happened... it was helping her calm down. Her hands were shaking a little less, and her dark eyes weren't glittering quite so much - from suppressed tears to no tears at all. That being said, she didn't look like she wanted to stand up anytime soon... and being dressed in rags with her hair all over the place tended to make anyone look rougher than was strictly necessary.

"The leader back there. He mentioned the... Scabrous? Said something about a 'fortunate era'?"

"Oh, that. Probably nothing. The Scabrous have been ebbing lately."

"But what are they? The Scabrous, I mean."

"...you don't know?"

Carza just stared. Petty, but she didn't want to acknowledge her own ignorance too much. Best to leave a silence that Kani could fill.

"...the Scabrous are... well... they're off to the south. Sometimes they come further north, sometimes they retreat. They're like... well... they're hard to describe. But they're not good. They're hungry. Always hungry. No-one fights them, at least, not seriously."

"Are they a nation, or something? Mutants?"

"...no-one's really sure. No-one goes that far south to check. A fortunate era is where they stay very far south. A poor era is one when they come further north than usual. They patrol randomly. Big parties of them... apparently, once, the Scabrous themselves rode against us. Nowadays... generations and generations ago, some clan-heart decided to lead a massive attack on them. To break their patrols, to go into their territory - where forests grow with red leaves, where great towers are built from meat and hide, where the rivers are sluggish and thick, where the Scabrous' city lies."

She shrugged.

"We don't see the Scabrous anymore."

"...did he win, then?"

"Oh. Not at all. These days, the remnants of that doomed army patrol instead. Mad with red-drink. Eyes boiling. Horses made as much from metal as from flesh. Apparently it's better than it used to be - the old patrols were worse. This bunch are... well, predictable. I doubt they'll be coming too far north, and even if they do, they never invade. They don't really care about us at all, honestly. Think of them like locusts. Sometimes you need to run from the swarm, sometimes the swarm dies down and all is well. But you can't fight them. And you can't really stop them from doing what they please. Simply... operate around them. Like locusts."

"Or an avalanche."

"Exactly. You understand."

Kani stood suddenly, brushing her rags down while wrinkling her glittering nose in distaste.

"I think we're safe. Come on. I need some fresh air."

And with that, she was gone, striding out through the tent flaps with confidence that didn't quite extend to her eyes. She just needed to move. Carza hoped that she'd contributed to her feeling a little more comfortable with things - just by talking, asking about other things, helping rationalise through... no, she'd asked Kani to rationalise the raiders who'd almost kidnapped her. Come to think of it, they were human, and she wasn't, so... hm. Not going to ask about that. Not until things were more... secure. Less sensitive. And then she'd asked her to explain a threat which was so indestructible that the only solution was running away whenever it came close. The Scabrous... mutants? Sounded like mutants, in terms of converting those who attacked them, having a home with odd fleshy growths and strange water... it all sounded very mutant-like. She remembered Egg and Anthan talking about their time in the Great War, when mutants worked together as a single legion, maybe even with their own religion - maybe. So... maybe this was something similar. Oh. Founder. That was... she needed to look into this. No, wait, she should stay a million miles away from this. Felt dangerous. Felt obscenely dangerous, and far beyond her own field of expertise. The reality of the Scabrous was irrelevant to her, what mattered was their cultural impact, because if these people didn't know what they were... then the only way of finding out was going to have a quick look. And Carza was not going to do that.

If they were intelligent mutants, forming some kind of stable society, then she was looking at something which, once upon a time, had almost extinguished humanity from the continent. Maybe this strain was more stable, maybe they weren't mutants at all, maybe this was some other species that lived beyond the mountains.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

But whatever was going on, Carza was not poking it. Carza vo Anka, 'She Who Awakened the Apocalypse' wasn't a good thing to have on her gravestone.

She packed up her typewriter with fingers that simply didn't shake - so unlike her first few encounters with this sort of thing. Carza liked to think that talking and thinking had calmed her down, but... her hands hadn't shook throughout the whole engagement. Because these things had nothing to kill but her, and her hosts. They couldn't mutate her. And they couldn't take away her best friend. And they were human, not a trace of mutation about them.

A sigh slipped past her lips as she stood and left, her belongings bundled under her arm. If they'd stolen any of her clothes, she'd be very irritable. Horses were approaching from the direction of the mountains - the men were coming back, bringing a fair number of horses with them. The healthiest, the best of the herd. Good thing, too. Only a pair of dark stains remained where the slaves had been cut down... and like that, a good chunk of their group was simply gone. Which meant two fewer people to help keep the heard, to set up the camp, to transport things... she could see what Kani had meant. Now she thought about it, a single death would've hurt this group severely - they couldn't afford to lose helpers. Not when winter was coming. Not when they needed all the hands they could muster. Tobok and Dog were close now, and Carza waited patiently. Her notes were bristling with ideas, now. Important details. But her mind couldn't quite get away from the raiders, from their... ease. The way that single mad one had snarled, the way his eyes were flat and cold, yet somehow burned with fury at the same time.

This was a different world. The more she learned about it, the less certain she felt.

But... well, thinking about this was still easier than the alternatives.

The horses arrived without ceremony - no bellows, no waves. There was an air of shame surrounding the two men.

Tobok dismounted heavily, Dog behind him. The patriarch of the family seemed... shaken. His eyes were darker than usual, and he didn't seem willing to meet the eyes of others. He looked at the dark stains... and sighed deeply. Dog was wringing his hands silently, eyes shadowed by guilt and worry. The two of them were sheepish. Guilty for running, even if they presumably understood the rationale behind all of it. Slowly, the camp assembled - two people short. Mrs Cauldron came out from the fields, wiping her hands clean with a small ragged cloth. Kani emerged from her own tent, having splashed some water on her face to clear away the dust she'd coated herself with to seem older and uglier. Just five of them here. And Carza... couldn't say she knew any of them hugely well. Kani, a little. But the others? Not a chance. Dog had barely spoken to her at any stage, while Tobok was usually busy with his own work. She stood as a stranger here, a guest taking advantage of hospitality to achieve a goal which might, in a few years, benefit this family. Might. But in all likelihood...

Anyway.

Tobok was speaking to Mrs Cauldron.

"Losses?"

"Both of the black-headed ones are dead. Our larders have been raided, roughly half the jerky has been taken, and several wheels of cheese. If there was anything you left behind that was valuable, it's likely gone - but I can't be sure until I've performed a proper inventory. Apologies. No major vandalism, at least. They didn't burn anything down."

"Hm."

He thought deeply for a moment.

"...horses?"

"Scattered. You two will need to go and round them back up, I think. I can supervise taking down the camp. I presume we're moving?"

"You presume correctly. Might need to go south."

Carza spoke up suddenly, surprising even herself.

"They also said the Scabrous were coming further north. Fortunate era was coming to an end."

Tobok blinked... then shrugged.

"We should be alright. They come up north, yes, but a little further west of here. Usually. Not too often they come scraping alongside the mountains. And we won't be sticking to the plains, we'll stick to the mountains, then we'll head into the valleys. There's one south of here... good grazing, good shelter. Few other clans were thinking of heading there, last I checked... should be able to get by. Should be."

He scratched his chin contemplatively, and Dog spoke - he had a naturally quiet voice, but it was clever, had a thoughtful quality to it.

"I thought we were heading north, to see if-"

"Half the bloody herd's gone, lad. We go north, we'll be alone - if there's any clans up there round this time, they'll be hunkering down themselves, no food to share with us."

"But the river-"

"The river's fine for a while, but I don't want to rely on it without having a herd to back us up. Some bad fishing, some rot in the water... don't want that to be what stands between us and living or dying. Best to go south. Good grazing in some of them valleys, better for riding out the winter."

"But if there's other clans, we-"

"We'll take what comes our way. Better to deal with petty politics than starving to death out of pride."

Kani shifted uncomfortably.

"Are you sure the Scabrous aren't going to be a problem? I mean, if they're-"

Tobok snapped, his temper fraying.

"If we go north, we starve because most of our food and herd is gone. If we go west, we'll get more raids. No going east, that's where the mountains are. Go south, and there's some warm valleys where more of our people leave, and we can stay peacefully. Understood?"

His voice descended to a growl by the end, and Carza shivered, remembering the same noise coming from those creatures in the mountain pass. He was close. Soon, he'd be off to join his ancestors. And she could see the signs - his size was increasing, his density was rising, and every so often she thought, thought she could see sharp little bumps on his cheeks where the tusks were growing. And right now, with his emotions high, she could see something moving under his clothes - his vestigial arms. They were still weak, still underneath the skin, still basically indistinguishable from ribs... but they were there. All they needed was some contamination, the pure stuff the ancestors kept, and they'd be ready to spring outwards. All that density would unfold into size...

And he wouldn't be the gentleman who'd helped her out. Not at that point.

Kani nodded quickly. Dog did so, only after he saw the others going along with the plan. Carza felt a disturbing sense of deja vu. Too many memories of 'well, let's just go with this nice patrol, and we can hop over to the mountains easily enough', or 'the Sleepless will just let us go once we convince them we're in league with their ideology' or 'once we get to the mountains we'll be safe as houses' or 'once we reach the steppe, it'll all be worth it'. She'd been optimistic when she set out. So optimistic that she hadn't learned to ride a horse, hadn't really trained with her gun, and hadn't remotely acquainted herself with the political situation in Krodaw before her arrival. It wasn't just her fault, Hull had underprepared as well, but...

She felt compelled.

"If things go wrong, what's the plan?"

Her voice was low, firm, and hid the overwhelming anxiety twitching through her like some form of blood-borne parasite. Tobok shot her a look.

"What kind of things?"

"The Scabrous. Another raid."

She paused...

"Mutants."

"Mutants steer clear, we've nothing for them to take. Raids... me and the boy will go to the mountains and hide like usual. You three got by well enough down here, I know it's precarious, but fighting back will just kept us all killed. We'll take the herd with us into the mountains too. Just to be safe."

"But if we start running out of food because it keeps getting stolen, then-"

"Then we hunt, or fish. And we get to that valley before the snows start coming in. Once we're in that valley, we should be able to recover our herd's numbers."

He grinned suddenly, a flash of pride coming over his features.

"My son should be coming back anyhow. If he brings back plunder, he'll bring back enough to buy back our entire herd from the surrounding clans. Simple as."

Carza paused... how to ask politely...

"And if he..."

She trailed off. Tobok's smile vanished.

"Then his commander will honour us with blood-gold. But it's not lucky to dwell on that. Come on. We'll-"

"And the Scabrous?"

"The Scabrous can't be stopped, but they don't tend to come near the territory of the ancestors."

She sensed a hidden truth there. Loopholes. Did the ancestors cover the entire mountain range, or just portions? Did 'tend' mean 'always', or only 'sometimes'? How far did the territory extend? To the mountains alone, or to the land surrounding it, and if so, how far? And how close to the mountains could they stay? The land rose as they came close to the mountains, the foothills rolled in huge waves as one came closer and closer. And she could see frost kissing the peaks of those hills - how close could they get before they were just freezing themselves to death in the rushing winds which scoured the mountainside, rushing with all the fury of an avalanche, killing slower but killing nonetheless? How long? How close?

Couldn't she have a bit longer before another crisis?

Already her hands were itching for her pistol. Didn't want to let it go, wanted to hold onto it even when she slept. Just to stay safe.

But the matter was concluded. The argument was over. Tobok and Dog mounted on fresh horses to go and round up the herd - sheep and horses both. Kani's expression made Carza's heart sink a little. Some had been stolen, clearly. And then... well, a horse running in the steppe? Over flat land covered in tall grass? Easy to lose. Easy to cross a massive distance. A fall would render them lame, predators would try and snap at the stray sheep... adn overall, there were fewer hands to manage them. Tobok and Dog would need to spend their entire day keeping an eye on the herd from now on. And that meant things would be a little slower overall. Kani shivered, and shot Carza a concerned look.

"Doing well?"

"I'm fine. You?"

"Surviving. We ought to move, though. Father's right."

"...are you alright with this plan?"

"I see no alternatives that are less risky."

Carza shivered in sympathy with Kani.

"Are things always this precarious?"

A glassy hand clapped her on the shoulder, squeezing hard.

"Always. A horse trips, it becomes lame, it needs to be killed unless it's to be left to starve. A person is cut, the cut is infected, the person dies. A bad winter. A bad herd. A bad few raids."

She shrugged.

"If all goes poorly, I will travel with Dog to his family. Crawl in shame, take the position of a second-wife. A servant, really. Not... ideal, but workable. You may come, if Dog's family will have you."

"And your parents?"

"My father is strong, but he is old. He will go to the ancestors if he must, live on the mountains as a hermit until they are ready for him. Mother may pledge herself to a new clan, serve them."

"...by marrying into them?"

"No, no, by... a clan is not a family. We are a family, the clan is something larger. The clan-heart leads, provides us with rites and beliefs and goals. With an identity. Leads us. When he fails, the clan will split. When he succeeds... the clan grows, and then the clan splits under its own weight. My brother is sworn to a clan, we by extension are afforded protection... but the clan is all at war. No protection to claim, not now."

She fell silent.

"Come. We ought to be leaving."

"...yeah. Yeah, sure."

The world was a precarious place. Very precarious. Knife's-edge. She was starting to put together an idle theory in her head - that success was less a matter of continually succeeding, but rather, it lay in recovery from failures. Back home, there were grain stores, theurgic units which could refrigerate meat in industrial quantities, trade routes that could supply food in case of emergencies... a farm could produce enough food to satisfy a fair number of people, at least, during a good year. She was a scholar, she didn't make her own food - no-one in the Court of Ivory did - but nonetheless they ate. That was a sign of security if nothing else - that a whole class of people could be divorced from food production. Out here, though... this camp was a sputtering engine, struggling just to keep itself afloat. And that was the general state of things. Nothing could be made that couldn't be carried, because otherwise it was worthless. Nothing could be grown on the steppe. Nothing but plants edible only by things with multiple stomachs. A single winter... and boom. Gone. Camp after camp deserted, starved out. And that must happen every year, every single one.

Raiding had become more than a way of life, it'd become a resigned transaction.

Kani hesitated as she left, and turned back for a second.

"We need to talk. And soon. I have something important to show you."

Carza blinked.

That sounded bloody alarming, that did.

That sounded like the sort of statement that preceded getting stabbed and robbed.

That sounded like bad damn news.

* * *

Hours had passed. Horses had been mounted. Horses had been ridden. And a temporary camp had been set up, the rigid-bodied tents kept in reserve for when they'd be stopping for longer. For now, they were settling for slightly more primitive dwellings, which were still nicer than any tent Carza could imagine. Hours... and she had finally come to her conclusion. It was damn bad news. Because Kani was sitting cross-legged in front of her while frostbitten rain peppered the outside of the tent, the wind howling like a lonely animal stuck in the mountains. Like the ancestors were singing to them, in their weird, savage way. Carza knew it was unfair to judge the ancestors like they were all a bunch of savage animals, but in her defence, she despised them and would be perfectly content if she never, ever saw them again. Their descendents were, thus far, alright. Translation: they weren't killing her on sight, instead choosing to be downright civilised. Anyway. Kani still looked shaken, but she was digging around in a pot, looking for... herbs? Oh! Splendid, she was going to be cooking something. Honestly, Carza was fairly hungry. Hadn't ridden alone, she'd ridden behind Mrs Cauldron, but... well, as it turned out, being on a horse for multiple hours over a bumpy landscape while the wind picked up and the rain started to patter down was rather tiring.

Or she was just a weakling.

Or she was still recovering from frostbite and exhaustion and being bedridden for some time. For crying out loud, she was missing two fingers and three toes! Sometimes she forgot, on account of the phantom pain. That, and... well, not needing those fingers. Not particularly. In a grand summation of things, losing a ring finger and a pinkie was distressing, yes, disturbing, definitely, but not life-shattering. She wasn't reliant on those fingers, they were just... sort of nice to have.

And maybe she was just feeling a bit burned out, and if she dwelled on the pain of losing her fingers and toes, she might start thinking about the mountains, and-

What on earth was she doing with those herbs?

"I had an idea, Carza. The herbs we use for bathing purposes... and then your... uh, cig... cig..."

"Cigarillo."

"That. Your cigarillo. Wrapping up leaves in paper and then smoking it. I've had a wonderful idea."

Oh. Dear.

Her tongue stuck slightly out of her mouth as she worked at the small papery log in front of her.

"...this took me weeks to figure out. The blend was one thing. I started with the full blend of herbs, the ones we use for bathing. Too dilute. So, I went for something stronger, going for the concentrated strains we use for additional potency. Took time to get used to, and time to wrap it properly, but..."

Her expression intensified.

"I feel like I'm achieving something."

"...what are you achieving?"

"Something. I apologise, but I need to use a lot of paper. Twelve sheets..."

"You have paper?"

"Rice paper, for charms. Shut up. Look..."

It was coming together.

By the Founder, it was enormous.

"At first I called it an experiment. Now I realise that it's something rather more important."

"...oh?"

"Oh yes. I call it the Horn of the Ancestors."

"Why?"

"It looks a bit like a horn."

By a given definition. Yes. It did. It also looked terrifying and possibly fatal. It was an assemblage of green, near-transparent leaves rolled up into a crude cheroot, but... it did have a vague horn-like shape to it. It looked like something that could only be assembled by a craftsman. Carza tried to remember... she hadn't bathed in anything but warmed cauldron water since she'd arrived here, hadn't dared to try their form of bathing. And apparently everyone was too busy anyway - it was a communal activity, and unless the whole camp was getting involved, it was basically pointless. And wasteful. She'd heard no mentions of what the herbs were meant to do - were they just fragrance, were they something else? Could they be fatal? Whatever they were... oh. Oh dear. Kani ducked it into a small fire she had burning underneath a small hole in the tent roof, which was cunningly designed to redirect most of the rain while also allowing the smoke to flee freely. Very cunning. And very useful, because the fire was nothing compared to the great gout of smoke that Kani exhaled, a massive cloud that danced through the air, forming swirling abstract shapes before it dared to go into the cold world beyond.

She coughed. And looked distinctly more relaxed.

"...the experiment has been a success, it would seem."

"What... is it meant to do?"

"To relax. And to inspire hunger. It's common to bathe before a great feast, to awaken the appetite."

"...oh. Al..right."

"Have some."

"I'm alright."

"Come now, it's hardly stronger than your cigarillo."

It was three times the size of her cigarillo, either she was lying or the leaves were truly inefficient. Which felt outrageous, for how large it was... still. Kani had clearly relaxed, she wasn't shivering or twitching, she'd even stopped looking over her shoulder. Which was... remarkable given that she'd almost been kidnapped by a bunch of raiders. Might as well see what all the fun was about... and it wasn't like she was chewing coca, or injecting cocaine, or doing anything truly awful like chugging laudanum. She'd heard such rumours... the point was, this was some rural brew, some compound grown in the honest soil of the steppe. Her cigarillo was probably an intensely potent brew to them. This lot were probably mild, they drank mildly strong milk instead of real liquor, hadn't even figured out proper fermentation... presumably, hadn't seen the milk being brewed. Anyway, the point was, she was from a civilisation which had invented all-new ways to get absolutely plastered, and she doubted some steppe-dwelling rubes would be able to outdo her people. This was a matter of pride. She popped it between her lips, and took a quick puff.

Hm.

That wasn't affecting her at all.

How profoundly weak.

How-

...she appeared to be in a rather good mood. Hooh. That was rather nice, actually. A warmth, a sense of peace with the rest of the universe which flowed over her body and under her bones... draining away tension. A haze of smoke, a little like her cigarillo, but... not quite. Not quite. The sensation was wholly different, honestly, but it was carried by smoke and that was enough. She puffed a few more times, inflating her cheeks as she did so. It tasted rank, it smelled godawful, it had none of the suave sophistication of the cigarillo, but...

But...

Founder, she was hungry.

Founder, she was in a very good mood, now wasn't she?

"That's... decent. I think."

"Give it a moment."

"...well, I-"

Oh, wow. She was feeling good. For the first time in quite a while, she was feeling legitimately... rather relaxed. And not the kind of relaxation she got from work, the kind which was just pleasing certainty. This felt like rest. She sagged backwards, leaning on her palms as the rolled mass of herbs protruded absurdly from between her lips. Oh, wow... she could feel something in the air. No, in her skin. A crackling that made her hyper-aware of the world around her, the world seemed to be going downwards and she was floating a little above it. Her fingers, the ones that remained, brushed against one another and felt... a shivering static that wasn't entirely unpleasant, if she was going to be brutally honest. It was rather nice. Even her stumps felt a little better, fading into just being little wounds, not areas where her nerves were stubbornly pretending to still feel something, like the absolute crackpots they were.

She passed it back.

And now she really wanted to eat something, she didn't particularly care what it was so long as it was filling and salty and unhealthy.

Which was when Kani brought out a bowl of meat.

Carza liked Kani.

She felt stupid. She felt very stupid. Her trains of thought were moving faster, but they were skipping stations, slamming into each other... she had the ingredients of intelligence, but some vital connective tissue had been made a little too fluid, a little too unrestrained. Too free. If age was atrophy of that tissue, then this was the opposite, and she felt for a second what it was to be an infant. And then reality would return in a warm crashing wave, and all she was aware of was the tapping of rain on the tent, a few spilling through to land as crystal-clear droplets on her skin... she could feel everything from them. And now the smoke was filling the world up...

And she realised...

She was intoxicated.

When the thing came back round, she waved it away. Fear pulsed. Just fear of intoxication, or something else? Maybe? She couldn't tell, but she was feeling rather alarmed indeed...

Kani sagged forward... and groaned.

"...you are a funny creature, Carza vo Anka. You think strangely."

Carza grimaced.

"I think the same thing of you."

"You... you don't even know about the underground suns... the Iron Halls... the whales and the forgotten gods..."

"I'd like to find out."

"...no you don't. Hey, hey, do you... have a husband?"

Carza's grimace turned to a scowl.

"No. I don't."

"You didn't travel alone. No chance. The mountains are too cold and steep. How did you-"

Carza had avoided this before. She'd deflected questions. But now... something had been unlocked, and she found it difficult to say anything else but the truth. If Kani had planned this, she'd done it damn well. Couldn't do it better, really.

"They died. All of them. There were six. Now there's me. That's all. Cam died to a drunk. Egg died to a mutant. Anthan was gored. Lirana mutated. And Hull... Hull died to get me here."

She didn't sob. She'd sobbed enough, when no-one was looking or listening. But she felt coldness, and a paralysis that made her want to lean forwards and stare for a very, very long time. She was comfortable now. If she moved, she'd be uncomfortable. As long as she remained still, the world would remain still as well, she would be an immovable axis that couldn't be perturbed at any stage. Oh. Crud. She'd talked about it. She'd talked about the expedition. She didn't want to do that. Didn't want to think about it, didn't want to even consider it, why was... why was...

Kani was hugging her. Tightly.

Carza was surprised. Not by Kani. By herself.

She was hugging back.

"Don't speak the names of the dead. And..."

She trailed off. Carza's face had twisted somewhat.

"...I'm sorry. You poor creature, no wonder you were so..."

She coughed uncomfortably. Wrestling between sympathy and taboo.

"Well, you're safe with us. I promise that much. I have no right to do this, and no power, but here and now, I say you're part of this family, and we look after our own. So, there were are. How does that sound? if things go poorly, you can come with me or my mother to wherever you please."

She had a bluntness to her. A suddenness. Not sure if it was intoxication or some inbuilt personality trait. But whatever it was...

Carza was clutching her now. Like a drowning woman with a floating piece of driftwood.

She just needed to be supported. Someone on this side of the mountain knew, now. Understood. And... and...

...for the first time in weeks, Carza cried without shame. Soaking Kani's shoulder.

All thoughts of being detached and aloof faded.

For now, she was being held. And she felt a little less alone.