The massive statue of Kaan straddling Kenan's north gate dominated the horizon as Gideon and Surelin entered the thoroughfare. They had walked very quickly through the rest of the residential sector—almost at a jog—and Surelin had struggled to keep up along the way. Miraculously, no city watchmen had appeared yet to confront them.
They had both been silent during the walk. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off quickly for Gideon, and weakness from the wound Romus had given him made him disinclined to speak. For her part, Surelin still seemed gloomy after Gideon’s admonishment, and hadn’t said a word despite the serious effort it took her to keep up with his rapid pace.
Gideon raised his arm and pointed north, towards the statue. “We better hope that there’s still a caravan around.”
“What will we do if there isn’t one?” she asked worriedly.
He took off down the sidewalk in the direction of the statue without responding. Surelin attempted to walk alongside him, but after being forced to move out of the way by other pedestrians several times, she settled for following behind.
The thoroughfare was filling up with people as the sun climbed higher into the sky. Horse drawn carts and buggies clogged the street, and the sidewalks were practically choked with pedestrians. It was the middle of the breakfast hour, and the crowds moved between the various cafes and restaurants that dotted both sides of the thoroughfare. If any of the pedestrians walking along the sidewalk noticed that Gideon had a large, bloody cut on his chest, and blood on his boots, they wisely said nothing within earshot.
Gideon’s anxiety grew as they approached the gate. On any normal morning, caravans would be lined up for miles along the north thoroughfare, waiting for the sun to come up in order to move out. But they weren’t present, meaning most—if not all—had already left.
The pair had nearly reached the gate by the time Gideon finally spotted a caravan. Eight large covered wagons led by six oxen each were stationary in a line along the opposite side of the street, out in front of a large stable. Stressed-looking men and women scrambled hurriedly about the caravan, hauling various goods to and fro, tying things down, and tending to the oxen. Gideon held his breath as he crossed the street, dodging a buggy along the way.
He approached the last wagon in the caravan, where a young Kenanite man in brown overalls was hastily tying down a corner of the wagon’s canvas.
Gideon tapped the Kenanite on the shoulder. “Where’s this caravan going?”
He responded without looking up from his work. “Loso.”
Relief washed over Gideon like a wave. “Great. We want to buy two seats.”
“I can’t help you with that. We’re running late-”
Gideon grabbed him violently by the shoulder and swung him around. Surelin objected loudly as Gideon shouted at the young man, his hand still locked onto his shoulder.
“Fucking listen to me! We want to buy seats on this caravan! We’ve got plenty of money, so go get the caravan master. Now!”
The young Kenanite had been taken completely off guard when Gideon grabbed him, and his eyes bugged out of his head when he saw the bloody cut.
He blinked several times as he stared at it. “...I’ll go get Kara.”
Gideon released him, and the Kenanite ran off towards the front of the caravan. Surelin slowly shook her head. “That was uncalled for.”
He sighed heavily as he dropped his ruck to the street, and turned around to lean back against the wagon. The shouting had caused him to feel woozy.
“Are you okay?” she asked worriedly.
He gave her a blank look.
“...That was a foolish question. I apologize.”
Gideon saw movement over Surelin’s shoulder. A plain Losoan woman in her mid twenties was marching towards them from the front of the caravan, the young Kenanite at her side. She was pale skinned and wore brown boots and blue overalls, with several pouches tied to a belt around her waist. Her dark brown hair was tied in a loose knot behind her head. A small tuft of it had slipped out of the knot and hung freely over her face.
She came to a slow stop in front of Gideon as she studied the pair intensely. Her gaze passed over Surelin quickly, but it lingered on Gideon.
“No way,” she said firmly, "absolutely not. I’m not taking on two strays right as I’m scrambling to get out of the gate, especially when one of them has a big fucking gash in him. I’m not fucking around with the police or whomever else you’ve pissed off. Go away.”
A quiet sigh left Gideon as the woman changed focus to the young Kenanite, shouting. “Why the hell isn’t this one tied off yet? Do your damn job, already!”
She marched off, back towards the front of the caravan. Surelin called out after her. “Please wait! We aren’t being pursued by anyone, and we have money!”
The woman stopped in her tracks at the mention of money, and turned around. She stared at Surelin with furrowed brows for a few seconds, turning the statement over in her mind.
“Is that so? Well, the price for a ride on this ‘van is a thousand denars. Two-hundred-fifty for you, seven-hundred-fifty for the big scuffed up loser.”
The young Kenanite’s eyes bugged out of his head once again at the mentioned price. For once, Gideon did not have the energy to be confrontational. He stood up straight and walked over to Surelin. She stood still as he opened her ruck and pulled out the sack of denars from inside.
He approached the woman and handed her the sack. “Here’s twelve-fifty. Some extra for the trouble.”
The woman seemed mildly surprised as she quickly untied the sack and looked inside. She closed it and tied it back up just as quickly. “If these are fake, we’ll dump you out on the sands to fend for yourselves. And if anyone comes looking for you, you’re gonna be on your own. I’m not risking a single one of my people for you two. Understand?”
Gideon nodded, and Surelin gave her a hearty thanks. The woman extended her hand to Surelin.
“Kara. Welcome to the ‘van.”
Surelin seemed relieved as they shook hands. “I’m Surelin, this is Gideon.”
Kara eyed Gideon with disapproval as she extended her hand to him. They shook hands quickly. “Hop in the back of this wagon. Don’t forget our terms.”
Gideon bent down to pick up his ruck as Kara marched off again, the sack hanging over her shoulder.
“Wait!” Surelin cried out after her. “He needs medical attention!”
Kara replied without stopping. “I’ll send someone after we’ve embarked, and not one second before!”
Surelin shot Gideon a worried look.
“It’s okay. Let's just get inside,” he said.
The young Kenanite went back to his work on the canvas as Gideon unlatched the wagon’s back gate. Surelin climbed up first, and tried to help Gideon as he climbed up after. He shook her off. “I’m not dying, damn it, I’m just cut up a little.”
She frowned, but didn’t move to help him again. “You're too stubborn for your own good.”
The wagon was filled with dusty wooden crates and barrels, stacked on top of each other until they almost reached the ceiling canvas. Two wooden benches had been built into the interior walls of the wagon, situated by the rear gate, with a few feet of empty space between them. They dropped their rucks in the space between, and sat down on the benches across from each other.
Surelin watched with deep concern as Gideon unstrapped his claymore and untied his armor, dropping it all by their rucks. He pulled his shirt off over his head, and she gasped with alarm. The cut was shallower than Gideon had expected, but it still looked nasty. It ran quite deep along his shoulder, but as it stretched towards the end of his collarbone the cut petered out until it was no more than a scratch. A long and wide trail of blood had traveled down his chest, staining his shorts red and brown.
Gideon was displeased as he looked down at himself. “Fuck. I just bought this clothing, too.”
Surelin was bewildered. “That’s what you’re worried about?!”
Before Gideon could respond, Kara’s raised voice rang out from the front of the caravan. “That’s it, you lazy slobs! Get going!”
The wagon lurched ahead. Gideon bent down to latch the gate in its upright position as the wagon rattled along, and Surelin quickly moved to help him. After setting it in place, they both watched as the wagon passed underneath the north gate. Several Kenanite guards were standing around by it aimlessly, paying little attention to the wagon as it passed by.
They stared at the gate as it gradually receded into the distance. After some time had passed, it melted into a shimmer of heat, with only the statue of Kaan still completely visible on the horizon.
Surelin abruptly let out a shaky sigh, surprising him. She ripped the sun goggles off her face and threw them down angrily at the wagon’s floor by the rucks.
He’d almost forgotten he was wearing them, and quickly decided to take his off as well.
“Glad to get out of there?” he asked.
She squeezed her eyes shut and hung her head, rubbing her face with her hands.
“Yeah, me too. Fuck Kenan, and fuck the Kenanites.”
Gideon watched her as she sat hunched over for a few minutes. When she recovered, she looked up and studied his face with an unreadable expression before looking back to the statue.
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The wagon’s gate suddenly unlatched, surprising them both, and a stocky, middle-aged Losoan man with black hair hauled himself inside. He wore brown overalls and boots, with a belt around his waist. A small burlap sack hung off the belt.
The Losoan bobbed his head towards Surelin with a grin. “Greetin’s! I’m Zane. Did someone here need some fixing?”
Surelin gestured at Gideon, who was watching Zane dubiously.
“Ah, right!” Zane exclaimed.
He sat down next to Gideon, still grinning, and opened his sack. “Pretty wicked cut, friend, how’d you get it?”
“Your mother gave it to me.”
Zane’s grin widened. “She gets around, I guess. Let me see here…”
He poked and prodded at the cut. Gideon grit his teeth.
“Looks like…fifteen stitches? If you’re lucky.”
“Wonderful,” Gideon said, not meaning it in the slightest.
Zane took out a small bottle of pure alcohol and a cloth rag. He poured some of it out onto his hands before applying it to the rag.
“Might wanna hold onto something,” he said as he pressed the rag to the cut.
Gideon howled with pain and grabbed him by the collar violently. “You smiling prick! I’ll fucking-” He launched into a string of insults as he jerked Zane about.
Surelin grabbed onto Gideon’s elbow. “Gideon, just relax! He’s trying to help you!”
He released Zane reluctantly. “...Go easy, fucking asshole.”
Zane’s grin had faltered only slightly. He raised his hands apologetically and then carefully dabbed at the cut.
Gideon hissed with pain occasionally as Zane cleaned it. Surelin looked on with sympathy.
“Now comes the fun stuff,” Zane said. His grin seemed permanently etched onto his face. He pulled out a small sewing needle and doused it with alcohol.
Gideon frowned deeply as he stared at the needle. I really hate this part.
Zane pressed the needle to Gideon’s skin, and began the work. Gideon let out still more hisses of pain as Zane carefully stitched up the cut. The wagon rattled and shook occasionally, causing Zane to miss on more than one occasion.
After twenty minutes, it was done. Gideon had ended up with eighteen stitches.
Zane soaked a fresh rag with alcohol and dabbed at the sewn up cut. “Might be able to take ‘em out in ten days, or so. Just depends.”
“Oh, I can’t wait,” Gideon said sarcastically.
Surelin shot him an annoyed look, then smiled at Zane. “Thank you, Zane. We appreciate it.”
Zane bobbed his head again. “Don’t mention it! Lovely to have you folks with us.”
She gave him another smile as he packed away his things. He hopped off the wagon and jogged back towards the front of the caravan as it trundled along. Surelin pulled the gate closed after him.
Gideon untied his boots and freed his feet, then pulled his ruck closer to him. “You might want to look away.”
Surelin looked perplexed, but then whipped her head away as Gideon pulled off his bloodstained shorts. He grabbed a new pair out of the ruck, and pulled them on with one hand, deciding to remain shirtless to allow the cut to dry out.
He buttoned up his shorts, then looked over at Surelin. “Alright.”
Her gaze returned to Gideon cautiously. He settled himself against the bench, trying to find a more comfortable position for his shoulder.
“Go ahead, ask me,” he said abruptly.
Surelin blinked. “...Ask you what?”
“About Romus. I know you want to. Go ahead.”
She pursed her lips, and settled her hands in her lap. “Well, you’re correct. I do want to. Who was he?”
“He and I were Singing Blades,” he began. “We were both at Forelia. I didn’t really know him that well, but I guess he had some kind of issue with me. I don’t really understand it.”
Surelin listened attentively as he continued. “When all that shit fell through, we both ended up in Kenan to fight in the tournament. We met up again and agreed to team up for the melee.”
He waved dismissively at her. “Then all that other shit happened. You were there for it.”
She seemed to be turning it all over in her mind. “So…you don’t know who his benefactor was?”
“No, but it was probably the king.”
Surelin immediately shook her head. “It wasn’t him. He would have just sent a platoon of soldiers if he wanted to capture us.”
He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Well, why wouldn’t he? Kenan is his city. None of the Kenanites would bat an eye if he plucked two foreigners off the street." She shook her head. "No, it wasn’t the king. It had to have been someone else.”
“Who, then?”
“It’s hard to say. They only sent three people, which is odd. Maybe one of the king’s cronies?”
“Maybe they only sent three because they figured they didn’t need to send more,” he said. “Romus had a good chance at killing me just on his own. If he’d helped the other Levidians, I think I’d most likely be dead right now.”
She leaned back against the bench, and studied him thoughtfully. “Perhaps. I suppose we were being followed, as well. How else could they have found us like that?”
He thought back to when he spotted the policemen following them through the forum. “Yeah, that’s a safe assumption.”
The conversation trailed off. Surelin seemed lost in thought.
“Alright, you asked me a question, so now I get to ask you one,” Gideon said.
She scoffed incredulously. “Okay...?”
“How old are you?”
A frown spread across her face. “I’m twenty. Why do you want to know that?”
He looked surprised. “Wait, really? I thought you were like…seventeen.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked angrily.
He shrugged, and instantly winced. He’d forgotten about the stitches for a moment. “...It doesn’t mean anything. That’s how old I thought you were.”
She seemed heated now. “Well, how old are you, then?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Goodness, that young?”
It was Gideon’s turn to get angry. “Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
She gave him a satisfied smile. “Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”
He leaned his head back against the canvas, muttering. “Yeah, fair enough.”
“My turn, then. What were-”
“No, it’s my turn,” he interrupted. “What does a princess do for fun?”
She scoffed again, and folded her arms. “I have not had fun in a very long time.”
“C’mon, you know what I mean. Even a princess has to have hobbies.”
A defeated sigh escaped from her, and her eyes lifted to the canvas above them as she thought about it. “...I used to have lots of things I was interested in. Theater, games, books…especially books. My family had a giant library, with a thousand books in it from all over the world.”
“A thousand. Wow.”
She looked at him and nodded, smiling. “Yes! I love adventure stories the most. Crispin’s Journey and Across the Sorrow Sea were wonderful, but my favorites were in the Scriptures. I adore Kali’s adventures.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You mean the Forelian Scriptures? That thing has adventures in it?”
Surelin was quiet for a long time as she studied him. “...Well, perhaps adventures isn’t the best way to put it. They’re more like lessons. But how do you not know that?”
“Hmm? I haven’t read it.”
She seemed genuinely stunned. “...You haven’t?”
“Nope. Isn’t Kali supposed to be god? How does she go on adventures?”
“That’s two more questions. It’s my turn to ask one.”
He rolled his eyes and dropped his hands into his lap.
“What hobbies would a mercenary have?”
Gideon looked at her as he thought about it, then smiled as he came up with something. “We drink. And screw.”
The last bit wasn’t true, but he felt sure it would get a good reaction out of her. Instead of being surprised or disgusted, though, she seemed confused.
“I see...”
Realization set in, and he began to laugh loudly. She doesn’t know what I meant by screw!
She slapped his knee reproachfully as he belly laughed. “Don’t laugh at me!”
His laughter died down slowly. After he’d calmed down, he asked another question. “So what adventures does Kali go on?”
She glowered at him for a few more seconds, but then took on the air of a wise woman patiently explaining the Scriptures to a child.
“The stories with Kali in it tend to involve her using her wits to overcome a problem that plagues a mortal, usually in a way that inspires them or makes them more whole. Sometimes it's simple things, like taking the form of a flower to speak to someone in need, but in most stories she’s there in person.”
He listened quietly as she continued. “Kali most often appears in disguise to interfere in a positive way with struggling relationships, usually ones that have been accidentally unbalanced by Kaan.”
“Wait, Kaan? He’s in the Scriptures?”
She looked utterly baffled. “...Yes? He’s Kali’s husband. You didn’t know that, either?”
Gideon was horrified. “What the fuck?! But the Kenanites worship him!”
A heavy sigh left her. “...No, it’s a…corrupted version of Kaan they worship. He’s often an antagonist in Kali’s stories, but there is never any outright fighting between them.”
She raised her left hand, and crossed her index and middle fingers. “Their marriage originated the concept of wholeness. Together they became Kalikaan, the creator of the universe. Kali is the dominant aspect of Kalikaan, but the Kenanites have chosen to believe it's actually Kaan who is dominant.”
He stared at her with his mouth slightly agape. The fact that Kaan had a place in Forelian religion floored him.
Surelin didn’t seem to notice his reaction. She looked out towards the receding statue of Kaan wistfully. “In the best stories about Kaan, he’s a brave hero. He fights the enemies Kali can’t bring herself to kill.”
Gideon scoffed quietly, and her gaze shot back to him. “What? Why did you scoff?”
He shook his head. “Fighting doesn’t make you a hero. That’s not what bravery is.”
Surelin’s eyes widened as she stared at him. “Gideon…that just doesn’t make any sense! I’ve witnessed you in several fights. You are brave to a fault; in fact you are recklessly brave!”
His head shook again, more emphatically this time. “You’re completely wrong. Killing isn’t hard, and dying is easy. There’s nothing brave about those things.”
He leaned forward towards her. “Bravery is choosing to do the right thing even when you know you’re going to suffer for it. Living with suffering is brave. Fighting and dying are just facts of life. They’re not…inherently brave on their own.”
Surelin stared intensely at Gideon, absorbing what he said with pursed lips. He leaned up, resting his naked back against the bench.
“You asked me last night why I’m helping you? It’s because you are brave. When we first met, you confronted me multiple times, even though you knew you might suffer for it. You decided to come with me even though you knew it might only lead to more suffering. And you endured the king and everything else for months without giving up. I admired those things about you.”
They stared at each other quietly for a while. Eventually, Surelin looked away from him, back towards the statue of Kaan. Gideon watched as she slowly took in a deep breath, and exhaled it just as slowly. Traces of nervous fear were in her eyes.