“This was everything he had?” Elder Malk circled around Khelen's strange wares, running a hand over the smooth skeletal structure.

“Malk, do not touch that! It could be cursed.” Riese snapped without looking up. She had Khelen laid out on a table and was gliding a gloved hand over his head. Monu knew from the glassy look in her eyes that she was establishing a link into the Gaps. He knew nothing about the Lords' magics. That knowledge was taboo for all Kel except for those who have proven their fealty, those such as Riese. She swore an oath to the Nikral that she would not teach another person without direct approval from a lord. She would not take an apprentice unless they were first scrutinized by Lord U'shal. If she broke that oath, a Lord would immediately know and she would be executed. She was allowed assistants, however, paid servants which did her bidding and followed her instructions so long as those instructions did not inadvertently teach them any lore relating to the Gaps.

A flush illuminated the scars on Malk's cheeks and he withdrew his finger as if the metal had scorched him. Riese was the only person in the village who could induce such a reaction in the weathered fighter.

“Ardent,” Monu said, “I helped him carry those-”

“Just because you are not ill now does not mean you are free of danger.” Riese snapped at him as well, “You do not know how long this man has been handling those items, it could have been days before he showed these symptoms.”

“You think he has been cursed, then?” Malk asked.

Instead of answering him right away, Riese ordered her assistant, who had been dabbing Khelen's head with cool water, to get a new rag. Already they had gone through five of them. “I do not know.” Riese said, pushing back a few rebellious strands of her crimson hair. Normally it was tied up in a bun, but it had been a long night. Circles darkened her eyes like bruises, making her look severe. “This garment he wears is interfering with my sight. I have never seen anything of its like. No seams, no buttons, I do not know how he takes it off. The padding around his hips could be some sort of sort of protection or it could be some sort of belt, but I do not see any buckles to indicate either.”

“He ran his finger over the seam in his upper arm and it opened.” Monu said.

Riese lifted her hand to the seam on Khelen's bicep and ran a finger over it. Nothing happened. Frowning, she grabbed his other hand and ran his own finger over the seam. This time, it opened just as it had earlier.

“Just like the ones in his temples.” she muttered, tracing a finger around the metallic holes. Monu expected her to squirm but instead, her scowl only deepened a little, as if somebody had left a spilled drink on her carpet. Her assistant returned with several new rags, saw the gauges and paled a little bit, but continued to dab Khelen's forehead with cool water. Though he remained unconscious, it seemed to bring him a little bit of relief.

“We need to find a way to remove this garment.” She manipulated Khelen's hand and used it to touch various sections of the weave, perhaps hoping to find more seams that would open at his touch. The ardent flinched a little when Khelen grasped her hand, Malk and Monu reached their hands to the daggers on their belts, but stopped themselves when they saw that the gesture appeared to be reflexive, Khelen had not regained consciousness. Riese placed both her hands on his and warmed it, then she continued to use his own hand to probe his strange attire.

“What of this Lord Saxion?” Malk asked.

“I have never heard the name.” Riese said, “But there are many lords I don't know. I plan to send a letter to Lord U'shal tomorrow and ask. Hopefully a Lord Saxion turns out to be real and not a fabrication. Otherwise dying here on my table would be kinder than what the Nikral would do to him. He would be...oh!”

Riese had been guiding Khelen's hand across his chest until touched a spot right below his neck. The entire weave across his chest, torso, and arms loosened and relaxed as if somewhere a buckle had become unclasped. “One of you,” she snapped to Monu and Malk, “Help me turn him over.” Riese's assistant got out of the way so Monu could take Khelen's shoulders while Elder Malk took his legs and Riese took the middle. As they carefully flipped him over, the garment unfolded, falling outward away from the carapace covering Khelen's spine.

“What...” Riese uttered out loud the shock Monu felt at the sight which revealed itself. The carapace was neither armor nor garment. Like the gauges in his bicep and temples, it appeared to be embedded in his back. Sleek black plates disappeared beneath pale flesh around the edges, as if they were a range of mountains peeking through an ocean of skin. Metal tubes pierced the skin at regular intervals along the sides of the carapace as if stitching it to the body. The segments flexed with the man's back without stretching the skin.

“Have you seen anything like this, Ardent?” Malk asked, his voice grim.

“No.” she said, still sounding shocked. “This is beyond my knowledge.” As she continued to examine him, Monu inspected the edge of the garment. The metal threads hang loose as if they had been freyed. But beneath them or perhaps within them, he noticed a series of metal prongs lining it. A series of corresponding holes outlined the flesh around the grotesque shell on Khelen's back. Looking at them made Monu itchy and he shuddered involuntarily.

“But...” Riese continued after a few moments of silence, “He is not cursed. I can see that now that the garment is out of my way.”

It was rude to ask any Ardent for an explanation, especially since any explanation would be forbidden, so Monu did not ask. Normally his curiosity would have tormented him, but instead, all he could think about were the holes in the man's body. They were wrong and unnatural. He had seen tribal gauges and ceremonial piercings but something about the mutilations done to this man's body screamed of wrong.

“You said he demonstrated the ability to pass through solids.” Riese asked.

“Yes.” Monu walked over to the skeletal structure and pointed to the spot where Khelen had withdrawn the cylinder. “He put his hand through here and withdrew the vessel that you placed on your desk. He opened it up and withdrew several vials...”

“Which he used to cure his condition?” Malk finished.

“It is unfortunate the vessel has been closed.” Riese said sternly, “No lock, no seam, no way to open it. Just like his unfathomable garments. Only the lords can forge objects such as these.”

“So he is favored by a lord?” Monu said.

“He better be.” Riese ushered them over to turn Khelen frontside up. The carapace grated against the hard table with a screech. “Curses!” Riese cringed, “Laye, grab a towel. I will lose my mind if that thing on his back makes that noise every time he is moved.” Her assistant returned a moment later with a purple towel which they tucked underneath Khelen. Then Riese lifted the garment off his front and had her assistant take it away. Several tattoos lined Khelen's chest turning it into a chiaroscuro of black and white, accentuating the muscles. The man was strong and fit. But in the middle of his torso lay several red angry welts on which a few running blisters leaked.

“Now that, I can treat.” the ardent said, walking over to a cabinet to retrieve a jar of balm. “No wonder he was trembling. To suffer burns like this...”

“Monu. Did you see anything that could do this?” Elder Malk asked.

“I...perhaps those columns of light I saw were responsible somehow?” Monu hedged as the ardent began to rub ointment into the burns, “But his clothes showed no scorch-marks.”

“I have already established that the garment is unusual.” the ardent said, “It is just one more mystery. You two may go. I was going to keep you here, but now that I know he was not cursed, that will not be necessary.”

“Do you think he will live?” Monu asked.

“I will do what I can for him. I do not desire to have a Favored die under my watch.” She walked over to open a window and plucked several long leaves from the coliper tree growing just outside it. She pulled the leaves back and forth against the edge of the table until they were soft and wet. Then she used them as bandages, the natural resins produced within the leaves acting as an adhesive. “Malk, if he is a favored, then you should take a few men to Runak Run and have Monu show you where he was found. If his garments are lore of the lords, then they will not like it being left in the woods.”

“I agree.” Malk said, then he turned to Monu. “If we are no longer needed, I will send Monu home. He is still off-duty and I am sure he need to recover whatever sleep he has lost tonight.”

“If it is sleep I am after, then I should sleep in the barracks tonight.” Monu said, “I doubt Marla will let me sleep after tonight.”

Elder Malk chuckled, “I heard her temper is ferocious.” he said as they both exited the room.

Monu shot one more glance toward Khelen before shutting the door behind.

---

Peace...peace at last. Riese was getting too old for all of this excitement, though she loathed to admit it. After the all-nighter she pulled keeping the stranger “Khelen” alive, all she wanted to do the next day was sleep. But once word got around that a Favored came under her care, everybody became gawkers. For the next few days, she had to have some of the guardians standing at her door, chasing away curious eyes, only admitting the elders who came to see the mysterious man who materialized from the black fog. Idiots, superstitious lards. Of course, she did not say such things out loud. Instead, she had to find a way to explain to them the concept of “coincidences”. Yes, it is perfectly possible for some fool with lore to injure himself just as a cloud of black fog came upon him. Yes, it is possible he was attacked by another person or animal. No, spirits do not manifest themselves back into the real world. They don't even manifest themselves in the Gaps. This last point she found herself repeating often ever since she moved to Inshod. Apparently the old Ardent had been acting as a medium, convincing shallow minds such as Elder Shara that she could communicate with her deceased husband. The lords probably knew of this sham but thought it was too small to bother correcting.

But now, the excitement settled down and Riese had time to rest, save for the occasional visit by a patient needing a remedy for the annual wheezes. It gave her time to study her infamous patient, who had not yet regained consciousness, but had stopped trembling. He was an utter enigma to her. When he had on those garments, he seemed as if he existed in several of the folds. That was why it was so difficult to see what ailed him. When those garments were removed, it was clear that there was no curse. But rather his ailment was physical. However, his essence was afflicted by vibrations of conflict, bursts of excitement mixed with rage and fear. Confusion tempered by determination. It was as if somebody had hurled a bunch of different colored paints at a canvas, rendering it too confusing to have a theme. The man's dormant emotions wracked him like the winds of a tempest. But they seemed to subside on their own as did his tremors. It did not take long for them to become so subtle, Riese could no longer discern them. That's how most emotions were, too small to be noticed. She could only read somebody if they were extremely furious, devastated, or overcome with joy. But at that point, most people emoted them so clearly.

Khelen's appearance was another mystery. His ears were fused at the ends. Where they should have bisected, they were instead fused by a thin layer of cartilage. In this way, they resembled a child's ear even though the proportions were appropriate for his age. Birth defect perhaps? His eyes were larger than most and though at first glance they appeared to be black, they were actually a very dark brown. The ridge on his nose was less pronounced than most, giving his countenance the illusion that it was flat. And before where everybody thought he had no hair, upon closer inspection she saw they were wrong. A very fine fuzz of golden stubble began to grow on his scalp. The purpose of holes that marked his bicep, temples, and back eluded her. They both fascinated her and filled her with a sort of revulsion. She had drawn several sketches of the holes, the tattoos, as well as the carapace which seemed to be embedded into his spine, adding little footnotes in each depiction.

After finishing another requisition for supplies, she rolled up the letter and tied it to the others, leaned back and sighed. She glanced toward the fire-pit where the letters from the Athu burned. They spoke of some vague heresy against the Nikral, something that enraged the lords so much there were talks of a Feast of Retribution. The entities that committed or uttered the heresy were not named, but reports like this were becoming more common. Kel populace raising ired voices, complaining about taxes. But those complaints often went nowhere and they were fruitless. The Nikral were the Nikral. When a squall comes, it is better to take shelter and endure than to shout at it. Morons. It must have been an isolated community of people that provoked the lords. If they had known what the Nikral were capable of...fools. We do not carry their capacity for brutality in our blood, she thought. Even Riese herself had to be trained by a Nikral not to flinch at the sight of blood and broken bone, she had to fight against her inborn tendency to close down and pout. Her role sometimes required her to inflict violence upon other Kel. Break a bone to save a leg, cut off a finger to save a hand, cut out an infection. It was like learning to hold burning coals in ones hand without letting go despite the pain.

“Kel are weak.” her tutor's gurgling voice came back to her, “Docile...that is why you cannot defend yourselves, why you make poor warriors, healers, and hunters. This weakness has been bred into you. Tragic...for such intelligent peoples to be so...soft. Now come over here and tear this squawking bird's wing off then stitch it back on.”

Riese cringed at the memory. Even after all these years, Harloc's cruel lessons came back to haunt her. But she would not be where she was if he had not broken a part of her, beaten down the nature that caused her to freeze at the thought of inducing harm. Only those who have been under the direct tutelage of a Nikral or who have witnessed the wrath of one could truly understand how silly the idea of any such rebellion was. Even the guardians did not realize how much of a joke their own force was. It was one thing to fend a village off from beasts, but another to kill, to murder. Even if a fistfight broke out among Kel, they would immediately be shocked at their own actions. Docile indeed, her eyes had been opened. She was about to open a bottle of fermented Ulup extract and have a drink in Harloc's memory when Laye came in.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Ardent, he is awake.” she said.

“Do you realize your hands are capable of knocking?” Riese's irritable words left her mouth before what Laye said penetrated her.

“I..apologize.” Laye said bashfully.

“No matter, sorry for barking.” She put down the bottle and got up.

Khelen's eyes were open when she opened the door, but Riese was not sure he was exactly awake. All he seemed to be doing was staring at the ceiling, his eye twitching occasionally. “He has been staring like that for a bit.” Laye said, “That is why I came to get you.”

As if Laye's words had broken some sort of spell Khelen's gaze came back into focus and he sat up and stretched his arms. Surprise crossed his face as he noticed the shirt he had been wearing, a soft white garment spun from Rill-web. He explored it for a bit with his fingertips for a few curious moments before he noticed Riese standing there.

“How are you feeling, Khelen?” she asked, “I have been told that is your name.”

He did not answer her. Instead, he cocked his head a little bit and kept looking at her as if he were expecting something. Monu had described this look as well.

“Would...you like something to drink?” Riese hedged, walking over to the cabinet next to his cot and withdrawing a vessel of licot-infused water. “You have been sleeping for several days. You have consumed very few liquids. Here, have the whole bottle. It was a gift, but I do not like the stuff. Licot is too sweet for me.”

He watched her with an expression of...curiosity? Befuddlement? Riese began to worry that his mind may have suffered some sort of damage. She unstopped the bottle and held it out to him. He excepted it without hesitation, gave it a brief sniff and began to drink. He did not stop until the bottle was empty, then he handed the empty bottle back to her. Apparently, he was a fan of licot fruit. Good, he could have her whole stash when he left. She did not have the heart to tell Lyle, the farmer grew the licots he made the water from, that the fruits disgusted her.

“Better?” she asked. Again, he did not answer her. Instead, he stared at her expectantly, his eyes demanding a response to a question he had yet to ask. “You were found by Runak Run.” she said, hoping to trigger his memory. “Monu, a young guardian of Inshod brought you here. You were ill and suffering from severe burns to your abdomen. Do you remember any of this?”

A scowl crossed his face at her words, but she did not know why. But a moment later, he looked around the room until his eyes came upon one of the sketches she drew of the thing on his back. He cocked an eyebrow, glanced at her with a brief look of amusement and began to get up. “Sit down.” she commanded, putting her hand on his shoulder and coerced him back onto the bed. “I need to make sure you are well before you go-” To her surprise, he gripped her wrist and pried it off his shoulder. His strength caught her off guard and she stood there in a moment of shock as he got back up and walked toward the sketch. He stopped for a moment to reach under his shirt. There was a tearing sound followed by crusted coliper leaves dropping to the floor.

“You fool!” she snapped, “You'll tear your wounds open! Those were helping you heal!”

Again, she found herself forcing him down into a chair and inspected his torso, expecting to find freshly torn scabs. Instead, where there had been severe burns, there was now only a rash. That was not possible, there still should have been some sort of scabbing. But the flesh was almost completely healed.

“How is he recovering so quickly Ardent?” Laye voiced Riese's own thoughts.

Had he been trained in Nikral lore after all? Did the lords even have lore that expedited recovery so quickly? She absentmindedly ran a finger over the burn when he grasped her wrist for the second time and pushed it away. When Riese saw the glare in his eyes, she thought about having Laye grab the two guardians out front and having them help restrain him so she could do a thorough inspection. He reached up to grab the sketch she had drawn and inspected it. Then he gestured to her and pointed to it. Did you draw this? She nodded. Why was he acting as if he were mute? Why was he using gestures instead of speaking? He gave her an appraising look.

“Healer.” he blurted so suddenly Laye started. His voice was wet with raspiness.

“So you can speak now?” she said irritably.

“Briefly.” he answered. “Temporary.”

“Why is your speech temporary?” Riese demanded.

“Cypher...” he said tapped the sketch with a finger, “it translates. Damaged. It works now, but-” He frowned in mid-sentence and went silent.

“Cypher...” Monu had mentioned the word, “Cypher is not a person. It is that 'thing' in your back? It...you say it can translate languages?” She could not conceive of such a lore. It was possible that a master of the Gaps could glean hints from the past, find threads that connected the spoken word. But to have something which passively translated languages, such a thing would require an exquisitely profound knowledge of the lords' magics. She could not imagine any Nikral imparting any knowledge to any Kel, not even a Favored. Just who was this man?

“Fix.” Khelen said, “ Cyatic interference. Translation intermittent. I have a bug in Wall-rider. Did you not see?”

“I do not understand half the terms you just used.” Riese said. Cyatic interference? Bug? Wall-rider? What was this man talking about?

“Where...” Khelen began but stopped. He groaned in frustration, flipped the sketch on its back and picked up a piece of charcoal which had been lying on the desk.

“No!” Riese snapped, snatching the canvas away from him. “If you need to communicate in writing, use a new one.”

She tugged a new sheet out from under the desk and gave it to him. But instead of writing, he began to draw. The lines lacked depth, but they were exact and precise. As the image took shape, she recognized it as the strange metallic structure with four legs, each pair forming an acute angle. He held the image up to her inquiringly.

“Follow me.” she said and led him down into the cellar, where they stored all of his wares. Instead of waiting for her to light the oil lanterns, Khelen walked straight into the darkness as if he knew exactly where he was going. Could he have grown up in a climate that saw little sunshine? Was that why his skin was so pale and his eyes so large? “Do not break anything!” she warned. No response. She had expensive equipment down here that was almost impossible to replace.

Khelen was standing next to his wares, waiting patiently for her. When she came over, he nonchalantly reached his hand through metallic the walls of the large cubical object near the structure's posterior. This...was just as Monu had described: his hand ignored the solid as if it had no substance. The cube must have been hollow inside because he retrieved several objects: A glass jar containing some sort of grainy black powder. An image on the jar depicted a bucket pouring a stream of black substance which somehow resolved itself into a shield. The next object was small spool of...metal thread? Next was a closed case made of a material Riese could not identify.

“How are you doing that?” Riese asked.

Khelen looked confused by the question. So she placed her hand on the metal surface he was penetrating. To her, it was as solid as any other alloy. He seemed as surprised by her inability to pass through it as she was by his ability pass through it. “Your...cypher?” he asked.

“I do not have one.” Riese said. He stared at her, behind his flat expression was a hint of appalment. He stood up and scrutinized her. What, did he expect her to have that grotesque thing in her back? Besides the hideousness of such a construct, it was clearly a work of great lore. No Kel would ever be allowed to have such a thing, this “cypher” without express permission or perhaps outright desire from a lord. So why did he expect her to have one?

He raised a finger to her, pointing to her temples. “I do not have those either.” she said, raising her hair. “Nor do I have them.” she rolled up her sleeve to expose her bare flesh.

Instead of saying anything, Khelen walked over to the cylindrical vessel, the same one which contained the vials Monu spoke of. A seam appeared along its side and it opened before he even reached it, responding to some unspoken command. He pulled up his sleeve to expose the holes in his bicep and they ejected several vials. He replaced the ejected vials with new ones. Riese wanted to take notes, she was entranced by all the things Khelen was doing, though she understood none of them.

Laye gasped when a series of glowing symbols appeared on the construct’s surface. Colorful letters of an unfamiliar dialect danced their way across the dome before forming a word which Riese did not recognize. They were replaced with a series of glowing circles and scales. “Huh...” Khelen grunted as if pleased with something. Then he tapped a few symbols and a small door materialized in the side of the structure. Then he opened the strange case made of the unidentified material and withdrew...an insect? That was the closest thing Riese could think of, it was a four-legged insect bigger than her hand. Its legs were black and they ended in jagged metal prongs. Khelen turned it on its back and pulled off its abdomen, filled it with the black powder from the jar, then reattached it. He set the insect on the ground and withdrew another item from the case: a small knob with a rectangular protrusion. He plugged this device into the rectangular recess on the structure and immediately the insect came to life: its legs curled in, raising it up off the ground. Khelen looked pleased.

“What is it?” Riese asked, fascinated.

Khelen did not answer her. He did say translation was intermittent. Perhaps he could not understand her for now. He retrieved one more device from the case, a small metal peg, and pushed it into one of the holes in his temple. As soon as he did this, the insect turned to face him and froze. A few moments passed in which Riese sensed that some sort of communication was taking place. Then Khelen began to awkwardly unbutton the shirt she had put on him.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, “You have obviously surpassed my lore, but you are still my patient and this is my house. I need to know what is happening.”

He looked up at her as he slid off the shirt. “Fix.” he said.

He saw a chair near her lab and grabbed it without waiting for her permission. Instead of sitting in it, he sat on the ground in front of the chair, legs crossed, wadded up the shirt and placed it on the edge of the chair to use as a cushion for his head. The insect immediately scuttled over and leapt up onto his back, scaling the carapace by using the holes bordering it as footholds. Laye quelled at the sight of the ghastly thing, but Riese was in awe. When it reached the top, it stopped. A second later, a bright blue light fanned from the place where its mouth should have been, accompanied by a shrill noise that reminded Riese of a creaking door.

The light was so bright, its ambiance was rivaled only by a bolt of lightning or by the sun itself. It swept in small strokes, blasting or burning away portions of the cypher's black shell, revealing a white-gray substrate beneath. But a moment later, the white light was replaced by another. This second fan of light burned with the color of sparks and embers, filling with streaks as it hissed across the sections the white light just blasted. Instead of removing material, it deposited fresh black carapace that looked indistinguishable from the sections around it. With precision, the insect oriented itself as needed, hooking its legs in holes and crevices, blasting and filling. Blasting and filling. If it needed to operate something near the edge of the cypher, it would vaporize any flesh that got in the way. This should have been excruciating, but Khelen did not show any signs of pain. He did not even look uncomfortable. If anything, he looked a little bit too relaxed, with his head turned sideways and his eyes closed.

“Does...does that not hurt?” Laye asked, when the insect reached half-way down the carapace. “What that thing is doing?”

“No. Sub-dermal operations can. I am using Numb.”

“So you can understand us now? This...” Riese looked at the insect, “This lore is working?”

“'Lore?'” Khelen repeated, “It works. But I cannot answer questions. I have to focus.”

Focus...was he controlling that thing on his back? How? Riese wanted to know so badly what was happening, she almost felt like an inquisitive youth again. She could sit and watch this all day. She wanted to take that insect apart, study it, experiment on it, find out how it worked. But as she considered such a thing, she began to worry. Would a lord have approved of such a display of lore that he was demonstrating with Laye present? Did this “Lord Saxion” give him such permission? It did not seem like a thing the lords would do. She was in the middle of considering whether or not she should ask Laye to leave the room when the insect finished its final repair. It hopped onto the floor and froze.

Khelen sat up and stretched, then he gave her another expectant look.

“Where...is my abdolex?” he asked softly, “The suit.”

“Laye, go get his garment.” Reise said. Her assistant obeyed, quickly ascending the stairs to go grab the garment with the strange metal weave. Then she turned to him. “Now that we can understand each other, I have questions.”

“I will...answer.” he said. His speech, though it seemed coherent, was awkward and slow, as if words were a burden.

“I will start with the obvious.” Riese said, pulling up a chair so she could sit. “Your lore surpasses me. You recover more quickly from injury than anybody or anyone I have ever seen. Your 'devices'...just who are you?”

“Khelen.” he said, scratching at the holes in his bicep. “I...am a contractor... I take...jobs..odd jobs. I do not...know how I got here...where am I?”

“You are in the mountain village of Inshod, in the Entu province.” she said as Laye returned carrying Khelen's top.

“The other garment is upstairs...” Laye said nervously, “I left it on your bed.” She looked at Riese for approval as Khelen slid his arms into the sleeves. There were a series of clicks as the garment locked itself into place and wove its threads over the cypher's carapace. Riese nodded at her assistant.

“Entu...province?” Khelen asked, “Where?”

“Well, perhaps if you tell me where you are from, I may be able to tell you where we are in relation.” The ardent said, “I am considerably well-traveled and educated.”

“Edis Holeren.” the man said, shifting his arms, “Home for three years.”

“That...is not one I have heard.” Riese said ruefully, “Does your Lord Saxion rule it?

At this, Khelen allowed a smile to cross his face. “Lord Saxion?” he repeated, “Next time I see...Saxion, I should...call him that. I wonder...if it would become his name. But do you do not know him...I must...be farther...than I thought.”

“Monu, the guardian who found you, told us you were Favored by Saxion.” Riese said, confused by Khelen's reactions, “Is he not the lord who taught you your lore?”

“Why do you use...words like 'lore'?” Khelen asked.

“What else should I call it?” Riese asked, “If not 'lore', then what else would you call the knowledge which allows you to do the things you did? The ability to pass your hand through solid alloys, that allows you to control that...'insect'. Those alterations to your body, the garment you wear. What word would you use to describe those things?”

“Lore...is archaic.” Khelen said, clearly amused. “'Technology' perhaps? I had various...'teacher's. One was even professional. Saxion taught me nothing. He values my talents, pays well. As for the 'alterations' to my body...I do not understand. What...'alterations' are you talking about?”

Riese was baffled by both the explanation and the question which followed it. Khelen's answers seemed to inspire more questions than they resolved. “What alterations?!” Riese asked, “That thing in your back, those holes in your flesh! I had assumed one of the lords did this to you.”

Khelen looked at her as if she had said something profoundly stupid. “Again, I do not understand.” he said, “It is my cypher. The formula injector and...ocular, could be considered...'alterations', but the cypher is my cypher. Were you born without one?”

Born...without one? What Kel, no, what creature could ever be born with such a construct? Riese suddenly found herself too afraid and too tired to ask any more questions. The instincts she cultivated from working with the lords were warning her to stop asking questions. She felt as if she were stumbling onto some form of forbidden knowledge. She was out of her depth, she needed to retire for the night. But before she could, Laye spoke.

“None of us were.” she said, her voice aghast.

Khelen looked at Laye, then Riese, then at Laye and Riese again. “Monu, the man who found me?”

“He does not have one either.” Riese said, “None of us do. We have heard of no creature in the entire world who has anything like what you have on your back.”

“I...don't understand...” Khelen said , “I don't...how could you..not? Is that why...that is why...everything is...silent? No...cyphers.” He stared ahead and sat down on the four-legged structure, “I do not know...where I am. I...how? Everything is silent...even in a dead zone...there is always noise...but everything...is empty. And...I do not remember...”

“What don't you remember?” Laye asked.

“How...how I got here.” Khelen said.

“Your lord did not send you?” Laye hedged. Khelen cocked his head slightly.

“Saxion is not my lord, I have...none. He is...he is my employer.”

“But all Nikral are our lords!” Laye said.

“Ni...kral?” Khelen repeated as if the word were foreign to him, “What is a Nikral?”