The trek from the mountain back to Echelon was wearisome as Kaleb’s exhaustion and aches piled up. It took much longer than it had taken his previous party to get to the mountain on account of the current heavy load. The sled had broken down several times, and they’d had to improvise fixes for it, but it had been doable due to trees available nearby. Twice they had camped for a night, doubling the time Kaleb spent on this cursed expedition.
It was on the cool noon of the fifth day since he’d left that they first spotted the walls of the city and the hill that marked the refugee camp. Neither the city nor the camp had ever felt warm to him, yet the warmth of home radiated from the sight; the warmth a man frozen blue sorely needed.
They followed the road towards the city until they came by the camp, and there, Kaleb stopped. He glanced at the looming city walls far away and the tents where his sister and Judy were. He let go of the reins, and the party stopped as he did. “I have to go now.”
Ziek turned on him. “You’re free to go once we get to the city. We have to–”
“I’m going now,” Kaleb said, staring at him, the gruck’s reptilian eyes meeting his own.
Some tension came to Bird’s posture who was standing beside Ziek; and Lorin, who was behind Kaleb, sighed. Yezdriel raised both hands to assuage everyone. He’d splinted the broken arm and removed armor and cloth from his arm in the process. Five inky stars were visible along his forearm which was healing well. “All’s well,” he said. “I can pull it the rest of the way.”
Ziek seemed to think about it, the tension evident in his rigid stance, then he sniffed and nodded his humongous head.
“Ungrateful wretch,” Bird muttered, deliberately audible.
Lorin patted him on the shoulder as he passed him by, and Yezdriel smiled at him as he took over the reins. “Goodbye, my friend.”
Kaleb stood rooted to the spot from the sudden bout of anxiety as they moved on without him, then he answered loud enough for them to hear him even if a bit late. “Goodbye, Yez.” The gigantic quill looked back, smiled, and waved.
Kaleb’s tension abandoned him in one large wave that he almost collapsed, but it was replaced by an urge to run home. He followed the urge and marched wearely onto the muddy paths between the tents. Eventually,he reached Judy’s tent, gazing at it for a moment. He slowly trod the ground to–
A red freight train nearly bowled him over, forcing him to take a couple of steps back and flaring his body’s aches. He looked down and found the red-haired head of Jane was buried in his midsection. “You’re back!” She hugged him tight. “I didn’t mean for you to go and never come back. Judy wouldn’t tell me where you went, and she wouldn’t let me look for you. Where were you? Why?”
Kaleb wrapped his hands around her. “Easy,” he said, his voice hoarse but serene. “I’m here. It’s okay.” A smile finally found its way to his face. Then he raised a brow, looking down at her incredulously. “Where the hell did you get dye?”
…
Kaleb’s return was welcome if not triumphant. Judy received him by being shocked enough to spring out of her perpetually rocking chair and hug him warmly.
He was given a seat on account of his obviously exhausted state. Jane sat beside him restless, but seemingly content.
Judy was sharp enough to read the atmosphere that came with him so she asked a subtle question as she took up her knitting again. “It didn’t work?”
Kaleb gulped. “Not as planned, no.” He watched the ground, not meeting her eyes. “I did get this.” He pulled back a sleeve to show his star.
That seemed to give her another shock as she paused and straightened her back, scrutinizing his wrist. “Is that…?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re back, safe, if a little beaten up.” She nodded at his bandaged head. “And you got what you were going for. It went well,” she said, a bit of cheer in her elderly voice.
“Not–” he paused for a moment, glancing at Jane, but then he spoke anyway. “Not everyone was so lucky.”
Judy looked at his star then his face questioningly. He shook his head. She nodded slowly in understanding, busying her hands with the knitting again, though her attention was obviously not on it.
Jane was nearly touching his wrist with her nose as she stared at the new tattoo he’d earned, and Judy used that distraction to mouth a question at him. ‘How bad?’
He raised his other hand with only the forefinger to show for a number. She raised her brows in surprise. He wasn’t sure whether Diego and his crippled companion had made it or not. He’d look for him in the camp today and tomorrow, and the day after that. But he didn’t hold out much hope.
Judy seemed intent on busying her eyes with the knitting now too. He couldn’t be sure, but she seemed pissed off, muttering to herself and shaking her head.
Jane had upgraded to manhandling his wrist to check for any inconsistencies in his skin’s texture from the star, which she didn’t find. “What does it do, though?” she asked again. The question got Judy’s attention on him again.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t do much. I have a weird ability. A book with only three empty pages. It could be something useless, a scholarly power, or even magic. I don’t know yet.”
“Magic?” Jane raised her head and eyed him with wonder. “Really?”
“I said I don’t know, didn’t I?” He sighed. “I’ll have to test it maybe, or ask someone.”
“Who?” Judy interjected.
He was at a loss for words. He shook his head. “No idea.”
She sighed. “You should rest.”
Kaleb took her advice. Under Jane’s protestations, he left Judy’s tent for the communal baths building, which was one of the rare few made of hardwood. There he cleaned himself thoroughly with the cold water, then he returned to his tent and got a much earned restful sleep. He woke up multiple times, with multiple reasons to blame, thirst, noise, nightmares. Still, he persevered in his attempts to have a restful night, and he ended up leaving his grounded bedding a bit before the dawn of the next day. His body felt rested, but phantom aches were prevalent in every nook and cranny of it. He still bulled on anyway.
Jane was still asleep, though she’d pulled her bedding closer to his. Perhaps she intended to catch him if he tried to leave again. She was a heavy sleeper though, which almost made him chuckle if that was really her plan.
His first task for the day was to ask after Diego, before the second and much more dreaded task. He went to the part of camp Diego had set his tent and he knocked on its entrance. There was no answer. Diego lived alone, and Kaleb had to go around waking up disgruntled neighbors. The results were as he’d expected. Nobody had heard from their expedition’s mastermind. Kaleb hoped it was because it was taking time to find his way out of the mountain, as he had no hope of persuading anyone to mount a rescue.
Kaleb moved on to the part of the day he wanted to postpone forever; the news he had to deliver.
He followed the directions Mark had given him to find his and his brothers’ tent, and there he stood under the rising sun, his hand frozen in the air, only inches from knocking on the thick cloth of the tent.
“Who is it?” a young voice said from inside, making Kaleb jump in surprise.
A dirty blonde head popped out of the tent and looked at him suspiciously.
“You must be Oliver,” Kaleb mouthed, still reluctant to speak.
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“Yes,” the boy said. “Who are you?” Then he was pushed aside as an older boy, sixteen if Kaleb remembered right, came out of the tent. His hair was darker, and he was carrying a staff fashioned out of a thick branch.
“Who are you?” he said.
“I’m Kaleb, Mark’s friend.”
“Never heard of you,” the boy, Jake, said.
“Yeah,” Kaleb said, his voice turning hoarse again, perhaps because of the struggle he was having with himself. “We met on the expedition. He told you about it, right?”
Oliver hopped forward, excited, “he’s back? Where’s he?!”
Meanwhile, Jake was reading Kaleb’s hard face better than his fourteen-year-old brother. “Is he hurt?” he said, slowly and hopefully, however odd that would have been under different circumstances.
Oliver’s excitement seemed to taper down as Kaleb held on to his silence. Jake’s lips pressed together and his eyes began to tear up. He tilted his head, struggling, as if not wanting to look at Kaleb, or rather at the news he’d brought. “He said it might be dangerous.”
Kaleb nodded.
“We’ve always been unlucky. I told him not to go,” Jake said, his voice broken.
“No.” Kaleb shook his head. “I was just the lucky one.”
Jake nodded in understanding, his knees struggling to keep him up. There was a stump near their tent, and he crumpled onto it.
Oliver was turning his face from Kaleb’s to Jakes, perhaps finally understanding but refusing to accept. “Where’s he?” he asked in a thin, almost non-existent voice.
“I made sure he was buried,” Kaleb said, and tears started streaming out of Oliver’s eyes too, as if they’d been waiting in line.. “I’m sorry.”
It was about an hour later that they stopped weeping for their lost brother. Kaleb hadn’t known what to console them with. He didn’t know how he’d react to the news, though he suspected not much better than them. When his father had died, his mother had eased him into it, but still he couldn’t remember his reaction, his feelings. It was like they were hidden behind a silky curtain, just out of reach.
He’d been let into the brothers’ tent, and silence was reigning as they sat around a low-standing table.
“How’re you doing for funds?” he asked them.
“We’re fine,” Jake muttered. “For now. Mark left us some, just in case.”
“I promised him to look after you,” Kaleb said. “I intend to keep that promise.”
“You don’t have to,” Jake said, eying him.
“Yes, I do. My place is near the northern baths. Ask for Judy’s. My sister and I live right beside her.” Kaleb looked each of them in the eyes. “Consider yourselves family. Please.”
Jake kept his eyes on him for a while then he nodded. “Thanks.”
Kaleb nodded back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kaleb walked out of the alley that led to Master Shabti’s shop. He was hoping the old clayton wouldn’t be too incensed with him after the long absence. He’d chosen to arrive a little early today as well to hopefully appease him.
The shop was as it always had been. Its counter out front, and its sign bright if a little dirty. There was, however, something different. As Kaleb approached, he saw a younger clayton at the counter, one he didn’t recognize. The latter received him with a smile tinged with suspicion. “How can Shabti and Sons help you, good man?”
Kaleb was stumped for a moment. “I...uh..work here?”
A yell came from within the shop and the knocking of metal on metal echoed out as some items fell. Master Shabti came out front in a hurry. “It’s you, boy?”
Kaleb nodded with a bad feeling in his gut. “My trip took longer than expected. It was out of my hands.”
The old clayton opened the counter for him to come inside and sighed. “So you haven’t found other work then?”
“No,” Kaleb said. “Never really looked for other work.”
“I see, I see,” Master Shabti said thoughtfully. “That’s my nephew out front. I promised his father two days ago that he’d learn the trade in my shop.”
“Does that mean there’s no work for me any more?” Kaleb asked.
Master Shabti sighed again. “I do need someone who knows how to work the ledgers. He’s still learning. You can come back to work, but it would be at half the wage. The other half goes to Leik there.” He gestured towards his nephew.
“Half?”
“You don’t have to work all day anymore.” Master Shabti shrugged. “You could come later. I will take care of the shop early with Leik. Later in the day, you could come and share the workload with him, and perhaps teach him a little bit of this and that.”
“What can I do with half?” Kaleb growled. He’d blown almost all his savings on his disastrous adventure. “That’s nothing! A copper a day? I’d make more begging.”
“It’s out of my hands now, my boy,” Master Shabti said, gesturing helplessly with his hands. “I gave my word, and I can’t pay two workers. You’ve been away for five days. I thought you’d never come back. You must understand that I’m favoring you with this decision.”
“Yeah, right.” Kaleb shook his head. What options did he have? Well, he would look for other work tomorrow, that was for sure. He wouldn’t lay down and die just yet. “Fine, I’ll do it”
“Good, good.” Master Shabti nodded with a smile. “Since you’ve already come this early today, I’ll let you work the whole day and get a full day’s pay, but that’s for today only. Tomorrow, you can come in at noon perhaps.”
Kaleb nodded begrudgingly. “So be it.”
The early part of the workday was boring, except for the splash of animosity that sparked between Kaleb and Master Shabti’s nephew. The younger clayton wasn’t dumb enough to miss that Kaleb was his competition for what he might have perceived as a good adolescence job. His perception wasn’t entirely wrong, since he had no responsibility, and learning a trade at that age would guarantee him better pay later. Said animosity never got past passing glances and a reluctance to follow instruction sometimes, but Kaleb put up with it.
Excitement came in the afternoon when a customer from a race Kaleb had never seen before came to peruse their wares. What Kaleb assumed to be a male of their species had a face that resembled a komodo dragon’s, except more angular and sharp, and instead of scaly, it looked carapaced. There were no nostrils, and the eyes resembled a hawk’s, except bigger and more liberal in their movement.
“How can I be of help, good sir?” Kaleb said. Leik, however, bolted into the shop as if he’d seen a ghost.
“A hook blade,” the man said, his voice resonating like vibrating metal. Kaleb had to admit, it was a bit intimidating, and more so with the long, sharp incisors lining the mouth that produced it.
Before Kaleb could reply, Master Shabti burst out from inside, wearing a flattering smile. “Good master. Welcome, welcome. Please forgive my subordinate here.” He turned on Kaleb. “What’s wrong with you, boy? Open the counter and let this good sir in.” The old clayton turned back to the newcomer with a bowed head and a polite smile. “Of course, we would not even think of giving offense. My subordinate is simply ignorant.”
“None was given,” the man said.
Kaleb, while perplexed, still opened the counter as instructed, letting the customer into the shop proper, which was quite the special treatment for a newcomer.
Master Shabti proceeded to show the man their wares himself, bowing and scraping at every opportunity. Kaleb began to wonder if they were being visited by a noble. Leik passed by their customer as he came out front, and Kaleb could see him flinch at every move from the latter.
That’s odd.
“Hey,” Kaleb said as the young clayton came up beside him. “What’s all this?”
“You don’t know?” Leik said, looking at him as if he was an idiot, which incensed Kaleb to no end when it came from a kid. “It’s a Reaper.”
“Well, the name is foreboding enough,” Kaleb said, chuckling quietly. “What are they, nobility or something?”
Leik shook his head violently. “They’re a race of people. How could you not have heard of them? They might not be an elder race, but the respect they command only comes second to the Pioneers and the fear they invoke second to none.”
Kaleb raised a brow. The Pioneers were the blue-skinned race that he and Jane had seen on arrival. The one he’d seen had been a priest of the Risen. It had turned out later that the Temple of the Risen accepted no priests except from their race. You could still swear yourself to the service of the temple, but only Pioneers were allowed into the priesthood. However distasteful that was, Kaleb had to admit, the Arrival would have been a much darker affair without them. They’d kept the peace, healed the injured, and preached that refugee races must be welcomed as had been decreed by the Risen.
It was said that the Pioneers were called so because they were the eldest race in this world, or at least the eldest still existing. There were ruins of older races, supposedly.
For Reapers to be comparable in respect was quite odd, but to be the most feared too was worthy of curiosity. “Why are they so feared?” Kaleb asked.
“Their creed,” Leik said. “Everyone knows about it. If you inadvertently offend it or them, you could be marked for death. They’ve waged holy wars that have annihilated races and driven more to the brink of extinction.”
Great, Kaleb thought. There are vicious genocidals on the loose in this world.
Soon, Master Shabti fulfilled the Reaper’s request, bringing out an expertly forged hooked-blade, and letting it go at a ridiculous discount.
“Kaleb!” Master Shabti honed in on him as the Reaper left. “What’s wrong with you, boy? Do you want to die? Even the magistrate might choose to look the other way if a Reaper decides that you’ve offended them.”
“I didn’t know,” Kaleb said with a wince. “Leik just told me. I don’t even know what their creed is. Do you know what could offend one of their people?”
Master Shabti snorted, which was uncharacteristic of him. “No one knows. That’s why you must be cautious.”
“No one has ever studied their creed?” Kaleb asked incredulously.
“Very few have ever dared,” Master Shabti said menacingly. “Even fewer survived, I imagine. Perhaps it’s in the Pioneers archives, but no one wants to chance talking about it in the open, lest they offend.
“For fuck’s sake,” Kaleb said. So the walking talking genocidal apparitions of death could kill you for something you didn’t even know. “I’ll be careful next time.”
Master Shabti nodded. “That would be wise.”