The city of eggs, thought Cove. The blasted ovoid shape was everywhere: government buildings, temples, traffic lights and circles, sidewalk decorations, and even neighborhood homes lined up in neat rows like cartons of eggs ready for sale in the grocery store.

Cove leaned into the gusting winds as he looked through the torrential downpour. The rain washing over his body was the only relief from the oppressive heat and humidity. He wiped the water from his brow, unsure if it was more rain or sweat, and concluded it was an even mix.

The occasional police officer wore abbreviated uniforms and carried an assortment of weapons. All wore blades and batons and had a motley assortment of old firearms instead of the standard-issue electric-powered pulse guns. The historian in Cove grumbled: They must have raided every museum and family collection in the country.

An older man yelped, scuttling away from a scowling acolyte, falling backward over a row of calf-height, egg-shaped colored stones edging the path, plopping into the grass, splashing mud over the walkway he'd just cleaned. His quivering hands retrieved a pair of coarse scrub brushes. “Forgive me—”

“Filthy worm,” said the acolyte. “The sun is up. Get out of sight.”

“Honorable sir, I cannot… the… the walkway to the Temple of Themis… the mud…”

Heat rose in Cove’s chest as his gaze swept the concrete path. Mud followed every step from thousands of feet. What scum would force someone to… But to the acolyte and the people of Porto, this wasn’t a man; he was a disposable biological machine. This is wrong! Thin grey light traced Cove’s skin as Elystria gathered and flowed. His senses extended through his Stoneshaper glands. Every particle of mud on the walkway was his. One command, a simple use of Elystria, and the path would be clean—

Keeva’s hand restrained him as Roy harshly whispered, “Anything you do will increase his punishment. Worse, you’ll attract the police or even the Riddere.”

With a growl and an animalistic shake of his freshly trimmed hair, he glanced from Roy to Dax to Wendy and began walking. One by one, he counted and cataloged the oval stones. How did they get so many? A factory full of stone masons would take decades to produce the thousands on this street and centuries to craft the millions around the seaside city. What are they made of? He slipped off his shoes, stuffed them in his pack, and sent threads of power to several stones as he walked. "They are not rocks," he whispered under his breath.

Keeva glanced at him and leaned closer. "What?"

"The stones along the sidewalk, they are not stone."

"They're petrified eggs," said Kee. "I brought my girls on a field trip to the Porto Aquarium and the Natural History Museum seven years ago."

"Eggs?" Cove slowed his steps and deeply probed the following several stones. "They are... Keekee, I sense life.”

Keeva shrugged. “I’ve seen them cut in half. The baby… something, I don't think the scientist giving the tour knew what to call it, but there was no missing that it was a rock.”

“It is alive. I do not know how, but there is life in many of these stones.”

Temple after temple passed as the discussion shifted from the stones to their children into a companionable silence.

Two score steps later, Cove said, "Coming to Porto was a horrible idea."

Keeva's fingers, interlaced with his, stopped shaking and stiffened. She raised her voice over the thunder and said, "What?"

"The slaves are bad enough, but there’s more. Look around and check out the people. We do not belong; we stick out. We do not blend in like the workers in their tunics."

Thousands of others laughed and splashed, striding with purpose or giddy with anticipation. Natives, tourists, businesspersons, soldiers, sailors, airmen, and courtesans were prepared for the daily storms. Most wore bright legless shorts and a variety of colorful sleeveless tops; it was, in a particular light, swimwear made from everyday cloth. Only his family, friends, police, on-duty soldiers, slaves, and prostitutes wore more. Cove huffed. He and Keekee had grown up five hundred kilometers to the east. The weather was the same, but they hadn’t considered what to wear. This time of year, on the equatorial coast, hot rain fell every day, often for weeks without end. His friends and family were wearing the wrong clothing. Yet, nobody in their right mind would risk being roasted alive for telling Keeva that stretchy knickers and a teeshirt were overdressed.

“We,” said Kee, her eyes darting from person to person, “aren’t on holiday.”

“This is Teal Street,” Cove said as he urged her forward. “We are in the heart of the Temple District. Why are you shaking like the last leaf of autumn?”

“Oh,” Kee said, heat building with every word, “Let’s see… I might be about to walk into the Temple of Threig with a former Riddere soldier to see a doctor who will tell me I am pregnant. Maybe I am worried about our gaggle of teenage mages wandering the shopping districts with police Seekers on every corner. OR, it could be the idea of my half-sister, brother-in-law, and my new husband sneaking into the Temple of Amekia so my love can spend two days putting buns in other women’s ovens!”

“I do not have a choice!”

“I know!”

“I don’t like it.”

“It’s sex. You’re a man. You will enjoy it.”

“Keekee!”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“This is the last place… Gods sweetheart! I do not have a choice. I would rather be in the mountains with you and the girls.”

“What will you do when they figure out who you are? I don’t want to end up a widow like Wendy.”

“Kee, would you have me breach my contract? My word would become worthless. One step down the path of shattered vows, and no one, not you, the girls, our team, or anyone on Castleanova, could trust me. I do not like it and wish I had turned down the Breeding License—”

“Stop, Coveland. I know what you’re going to say.” Disgust and resignation flashed across her face. “If you hadn’t signed the covenant, Missha or I would have served in the Temple while you picked apples and berries.” Her hand caressed her womb. “I hate it, but I understand…”

They’d argued every kilometer and into the night as they rode to Porto. Keeva didn't want to share him with the patrons of the Amekia Temple, but legally and morally, Cove did not have a choice. The temples collected their tithes. Even Johnathan the Betrayer hadn’t evaded his obligations. Cove owed fifty days of stud service to Amekia; there was no escaping, and Keekee knew it.

Ahead, Wendy crossed the street, angling for the Temple of Amelia. Like Keekee, she needed to have her delicate condition recorded by a Temple Healer or Physician. Wendy was the only person going anywhere alone today because her powers only manifested under extreme duress. Hanna’s Seeker skill had not detected her until moments before she shifted.

Three brattiraptors comically dashed from pole to bench to shrub as they followed Hanna. Their assignment was to be cute, cuddly, and adorable and keep Wendy calm. They should be on leashes, but who would complain about three well-behaved pets wearing green and yellow emotional support animal vests?

Yet the three little critters had another task, one only Cove, Kee, and Pipster knew. They were observers, and every group had a set. Somebody was feeding information to the Riddere.

Cove kissed Keeva on the steps of the Temple of Threig. The proper snog drew cheers from passersby and annoyed gazes from priestesses and left Keekee unsteady for several moments. Roy took her hand and guided her inside. One, maybe two hours from now, Roy would escort Kee and Wendy south to their hotel on the city's outskirts.

Across the avenue were the orchards and warehouses of the Temple of Amekia. Cove dodged and swerved past streams of bicycles, hadrosaur-drawn trucks, busses, and a bored patrol officer as he jogged to join Dax and Sera. “Are you ready?”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Dax chuckled and rolled his eyes. “To pick apples in a thunderstorm? My friend, where do you come up with these ideas?”

“On a day like this, plan on feeding the needy, homeless, and poor. You could volunteer at the warehouse or laundry.”

“Laundry? Do they wash the queen’s knickers?”

“No, but the donated items need to be cleaned and sorted; oh, and all the linens from downstairs.”

“Wash your dirty sheets? No, I will feed the needy.”

Hanna pulled the two men off the trail, behind a gleeful marble statue of Amkeia in the second trimester of pregnancy, away from the lines of people, becoming another group chatting beside the path. The fliers, sailors, their sweethearts, and children didn’t glance in their direction, but Cove watched the crowds, the oh-so-familiar faces. He didn't know anyone, but the site was the same at every Temple of Amekia.

“Give me an hour to get into position,” Hanna said. She pulled out her Riddere badge, her rank surmounted by an eye, the emblem for a seeker, and clipped it to her sports bra.

Dax faced Hanna and asked, “How will we know if your skill is working?”

“If you see a squad of Riddere charging through the temple gates, I’m toast. Otherwise, we’re drifting in Azure clouds.”

Cove half-chuckled as childhood memories popped into his mind. The line was from an old movie, older than his dad. “You will not notice her gift working unless you try to use yours. Her skill obscures the Azure inside everyone in a five-hundred-meter sphere. For a person with a sensing gift, like a seeker, it will be like a video monitor without an antenna. They will not hear or see anything.”

Dax asked, “But your Seeker gift still works?”

“Yes,” said Hanna. “Do not ask Cove why; you’ll still be out here three days from now.”

“Hey! I am not that bad.”

“Truth is the sharpest blade,” said Dax while nodding sagely.

Hanna waved over her shoulder as she passed a granite statue of Amekia with her belly swollen with child and merged into the stream of worshipers. Her confident posture and pregnant waddle parted the crowd around her.

Cove people watched as he chatted with Dax. Those headed to the fields, warehouses, and buildings trudged forward; grief, despair, shame, and embarrassment oozed from every face, dripped from heavy shoulders, and darted with every eye. While those leaving, many pulling carts filled with food, clothes, or other necessities walked with toes ready to dance, their faces lit with hope and relief, and shoulders prepared to sprout wings and lift them into the heavens. Only Cove would leave this place with a heavy heart.

“Oh, shite,” said Cove.

“What?”

“Hanna! Come back!”

“Coveland! What is wrong?”

“She’s a pregnant woman wearing a Riddere mage badge,” Cove said, and he sprinted with Dax on his heels. Muscle memory from half a life spent playing Mazer awakened, driving him, helping him dodge surprised pedestrians, and spinning around a statue of Amekia with a newborn boy feeding at her breast. He fought the urge to pour Elystria into his body. Thirty strides, twenty, ten— “Shite!” His foot struck the edge of the concrete path. His ankle rolled, and he cried in pain. The ground slammed into him with brutal authority, punching him in the nose, grinding his face in the grass, reminding him he wasn’t in his twenties or even his thirties.

Dax knelt at his side as he said, “Cove!”

“Forget me; get Hanna!”

Dax growled and spat. “She’s already inside.”

A man said, “Coveland?” Memories of long rides to and from school and days locked in Clover’s pillories joined the pain in his head.

Cove levered himself to his knees. “When did the grass become hard?”

“Long before you were born, boy.”

Cove twisted and froze. “Mister King? What… never mind, stop Hannah!”

“The dark twin to your wife? No.”

Cove forced himself to his feet, prepared to run, and fell. The ground caught him. “Umph!”

“Kid,” said Mr. King, “sit down and let me check your ankle.”

Cove levered himself into a seated position, grunting through his teeth as he asked, “Why are you here?”

“Me? I’m driving a group from Clover. I thought I’d stop in and visit Aunt Amekia. Why are you here? Your picture is plastered over every blank wall in Heim. Hells, boy, when you decide to piss in a god's breakfast…”

Dax said, “How do you know this man?”

“This is Mr. King, my school bus driver and great-uncle. We have to get to Hanna before they catch and kill her.”

“Your friend is safe. Between her talent as a Null, and the presence of Amekia, our great-aunt, the gods only know how many times removed, she’ll be fine. Now you, with your twisted ankle? Eh, not so much. Hold still while I stabilize your self-inflicted injury.”

“She’s wearing her badge… ouch!”

“Quit wiggling. Your stepsister lost her badge about two minutes ago.”

“What?”

“You know, there are other questions—who, where, when, how, and why— you should give them a shot sometime.”

Cove grumbled.

“For example, the ‘who’ is your clever niece and her boyfriend. ‘Why?’ Because I bet they couldn't do it. It was stupid to accept the dare if you ask me.”

“If she’s invisible, how—”

“Well done, you asked a new question. Essie must learn to make more than herself invisible. Her silhouette is obvious in this rainstorm.”

“Essie’s naked?”

“No, but she may as well be nude; she is wearing her weird Azure bodysuit.”

“Hold on, you bet her?”

“The boy agreed before she could object,” said Mr. King with a snicker. “They’re young, and now they have money to buy sweets. I trust you have a good dentist on your team. Oh, that reminds me, take this,” said Mr. King. He dropped a flat piece of metal in Cove’s hand. It was one by two centimeters wide and two millimeters thick, embossed with the word and number twenty on one side and the portrait of a teenage Amelia on the reverse. “You need to learn to make these.”

“They're changing the money?”

“Dad warned me this would happen when he learned you could make Azure. Shite boy, someday you’ll have to tell me how you do it. Heim has alerted the public to be on the lookout for counterfeit Azure. Everyone has three months to convert to the new credit chips. Every coin has a microscopic radio frequency ID chip with its serial number and a record of the last ten owner's wallet number.”

“Huh?”

“That doesn't count; huh is a synonym for what.”

“Everyone's money is going to be linked to their ID? How will that work without electricity?”

“Elystria-powered RFID chips use the energy escaping from your body. Before you can use the new money, you’ll need to get a new identification card.”

“Shite. We have a plan, but how will we obtain papers for everyone if half the city is crowding the offices?”

“The cards, chips, printers, and related equipment are small but heavily guarded inside State Department offices. A master thief would find them challenging.”

Grettaluna wistfully said, “Now, if ya had an A Chara Bán, there might be a way.”

“You ass,” said Cove. “Is that why Feardorcha wanted me to develop that skill?”

“Aye, laddie, It’s one reason among many. I can guide you, but we must move fast before security is fully implemented here in Porto.”

“Hold on,” Cove said, motioning for Mr. King to stop. “Say I find someone, steal their identity and appearance, and steal the equipment. The Riddere will change the codes or do something else to make anything made by the stolen gear invalid.”

“Ah! That’s the beauty of my plan, kid. Now, here’s what you need to do.”

“Just one minute—”

“The first man you need to clone for your library,” said Mr. King, pointing at the Temple of Amekia, “is in there.”