Juddken paced outside of Urash’s room, locking eyes with the old man’s mercenaries. Boah was finishing a speech and had commanded Juddken to wait outside the room until he finished. “They are like cattle,” Juddken remembered his father telling him, “without guidance they would willingly place their heads into jaws.”

Despite being outnumbered, Juddken felt he could best the mercenaries if need be. Despite being maimed only a fortnight prior, Juddken felt stronger than ever. Juddken had ended the lives of over ten screamers in the last week alone, in addition to sixteen defiers of Okkan. His swing was sharp and his aim impeccable. It helped that he had both his father and Okkan on his side.

For the past few nights, Boah had emphasized the importance of water. How fortunate they all were to have access to it, unspoiled and untainted. How they had enough to survive a year if necessary. The people loved him even more now as they subscribed to the ancient customs of Okkan. There was less uproar when Boah ordered the punishment of a blasphemer, and less insistence in following the once agreed-upon principle of exile. Now, they relished the change. Some even policed the crowds, searching for anyone foolish enough to even whisper Ati’s praise.

Even though Juddken believed in the message, he was concerned. There were still so many mouths to water. So wasteful.

“ W o r t h l e s s d e s e n t e r s ”

The voice boomed in Juddken’s skull again. He nodded in agreement, though he did not know who it referred to. It mattered not.

Footsteps approached from behind. It was Boah, accompanied by six of his Corps guards. It was eight against three now. Boah could easily take the room if he wanted and remove Urash - that festering wart - from this holy place. But for reasons unbeknownst to Juddken, Boah wanted to keep him alive. For now, at least.

“Knock,” commanded Boah.

“You alone,” said the mercenary. His accent was unusual. It sounded Steppe, but less abrasive. “No other.”

The Corps guards placed their hands on their hilts and the mercenaries responded in kind. Boah raised his hand, halting further escalation. “Fine. Juddken will join me. The rest will wait outside.”

After some hesitation, the mercenary removed his sword. He tapped the hilt against the door several times. The sound of many unhooking locks rattled before the door opened. The mercenary stepped aside, allowing Boah and Juddken to enter.

Urash, wearing simple bed attire, struggled to get to his feet. He had been praying. Such an action was now an insult worthy of Shadeon Law. Juddken wished his father would give him the go-ahead to remove his kneecaps or his nose, but he knew it was unlikely to happen. The smug old bastard knew he was untouchable.

“Ah, you’ve brought the child,” crooned Urash, tilting his head and locking his lazy eye into place. “Looks stranger without hair, don’t you think?”

Juddken grimaced, hissing as he tried to will himself to speak. “LET ME KILL HIM LET ME KILL HIM LET ME KILL HIM,” he shouted in his mind.

Boah ignored the slight. “I wanted to inform you that your spice house burned to the ground last night.”

“Yes, I could smell it from here. I hope your men enjoyed it. They won’t ever get hard again.”

“If I’m not mistaken, that was much your inventory,” continued Boah. “Shame it went to waste. Juddken could investigate if you wish to uncover the culprit.”

“Bah, little use to me out there,” spat Urash. “As useful as jewelry against the screamers, it is. Besides, I always keep a little close to home.”

Boah laughed. “Dirty old man… As much as I’m enjoying this game, I think it’s best we get to business. Don’t want to waste any more of your valuable time.”

Urash held his gaze on Juddken. “Well, I told the men outside to only let you in. But it’s not like this one can blabber to anyone! Indeed, maybe you are smarter than I thought!”

“LET ME KILL HIM LET ME KILL HIM.”

Urash waved over a few of his mercenaries, pointing towards the bed. Three of them grabbed each end, pushing the bed with effort. After a moment, the bed moved and revealed an opening in the floor, barely wider than a meter and longer than three. It was a cavernous hole carved into stone, smoothed over what looked to be centuries of wear. At the edge of the bed began a steep flight of steps that descended deep underground.

“There,” said Urash, panting as if he moved the bed himself. “This leads to the tunnel. You now know all our secrets. Explore it to your heart’s desire.”

Boah chuckled. “You must be daft if you think I mean to charge into whatever trap awaits us. We are guests in your Manor. It is only appropriate for you to show us the way.”

Urash shrugged, unconcerned of Boah’s mockery. “If that is what the conduit wishes. It’s just that my knees aren’t what they used to be. It’ll be a slow walk.” He turned to his men. “It may be a few hours, but we will be back. Under no circumstances are the Corps to let themselves inside. I don’t care if the Manor is on fire. No one other than the Head and his seed are allowed inside.” One mercenary handed Urash a torch, who then lumbered down the stairway.

Sure to his word, Urash was slow to the point of insult. It took almost five minutes to descend below the floor. Juddken tapped his foot repeatedly, waiting between Urash and his father for minutes at a time. He wanted to push the old man down and let his body stumble to the bottom. But as the walls enclosed around him, Juddken himself hesitated. The passageway was tight, barely enough to make room for his armor. Juddken shifted awkwardly, trying to find the best way to descend without getting stuck within the thin space. Juddken’s chest tightened as the walls pressed up against his sides.

Despite his fears, he pushed through. His father would never forgive such a cowardly act.

Urash lit his torch and handed it back to Juddken. The light provided some comfort, but Juddken still couldn’t see far past Urash. The torch revealed how smooth the tunnel was, but also how lopsided the walls were. Parts of the rock jutted out, forcing the trio to maneuver out of the way. It did little to help Urash’s leisurely pace.

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“How deep does this go?” Boah asked after a difficult maneuver.

“Deep.” Urash huffed, catching his breath between each step. “Thank the Gizzals for these shit walls… Quick at digging… but they never cared much for aesthetics.”

“I find it difficult to believe this tunnel leads outside.”

“The tunnel was originally designed… to appease one of my more paranoid antecedents… back when we thought raiders could attack from the North… Once their more levelheaded kin took over… they realized the tunnel could easily connect to the temple… with just a little extra digging… You wouldn’t believe the amount of Brown Ash I’ve given to priests and priestesses over the years… It would break your heart.”

“Connect to the temple?” Boah asked. “As if the Gizzals could carve their way through sandstone. Someone would have noticed.”

Urash shook his head. “Figured you would have explored the temple more... Shame you never had a chance to see it… Most of it is buried underground… I’m sure you have heard the rumors.”

“How deep does it go?” Boah asked, pushing past the insult.

“Deeper where we are now... Much deeper.”

The trio continued to descend. The light from the bedroom vanished, the curvature of the stairway now completely obscuring it. Juddken attempted to look for a bottom, but he struggled to see past Urash. It seemed as if the tunnel was getting tighter as they went lower. The air was getting cooler as well. To Juddken’s surprise, the steps were getting slippery.

“Watch yourself,” said Urash. “The Gizzals designed this… to preserve the water fountain above us… though some seep through the walls… Interesting to think of how talented that family used to be… Engineers, miners, smiths they were… Shame their lineage ended with such an insipid fool.”

“Indeed,” replied Boah. Even he seemed marveled at the ingenuity.

“Back in the day… everyone respected the power of water… If I recall correctly, even you dabbled in water trade, no?”

“I made my first Jiks carrying water on my back,” said Boah. Juddken recalled the stories his father used to tell, of how he would march the four-league trek hundreds of times a year. Juddken rarely traveled the route himself, but he knew enough to be impressed by the feat.

“True… ‘Water is power,’ as you say… And you came to run the entire business… It’s a shame you leave Harran out of the stories though… Were it not for the mustache’s patronage… you wouldn’t have been able to recruit followers like you have.”

“Harran has been a generous supporter of me, this is known. He hired me as a bookkeeping apprentice. He paid for my scholarship to Jyväsk. My ability to read and write and speak is thanks to him.”

“Hmm, yes… The father you never had.” Urash turned his head, speaking to Juddken now. “Appreciate your father, son… He provided you what he himself severely lacked.”

Juddken was confused. The Awil-Ishtars had lived in Ash for generations. He knew his father had explored water trading, but the jewelry business was always there. Juddken stopped, turning to look at his father. But Boah lightly pushed him forward, keeping their rhythm.

“This is not your concern,” said Boah. “Focus on getting us to the tunnel.”

“Why not? Surely every child has a right… to know his lineage.” Urash chuckled, coughing between his laughs. “I knew your grandfather, son… I too would hide that… if I birthed from such a pathetic failure.”

Juddken hissed. “LIES,” he screamed in his head. He was ready to shove the old man. Let Okkan decide if he should live from the fall.

Urash halted upon hearing Juddken’s reaction. “Oh… You never told him?” His tone seeped in utter glee. “The Awil-Ishtar name came from your mother’s side. Your father just scooped it up before she passed. One of his more clever ideas… Better to take hers than to keep the name of a failed meat trader… Kirashi told me your grandfather was one of the best drinkers in town, could prop up a tavern by himself as she told me... Oh, he beat poor Boah to a bloody pulp every night, drunk or not. Does he do that to you?... No, I don’t think so… You like him too much.”

Juddken waited for his father to say anything. He waited for a laugh or a cutting remark. Anything to call out this old fool. But Boah remained silent. It was as if he ceased breathing.

“ U n h o l y t o n g u e”

The voice echoed in his head. It was right, Urash was a cunning liar, as far as Juddken knew.

“Old Zaman likes to hear himself speak,” said Boah after some contemplation. “He speaks this way to you because he has no son to talk down to. His kin abandoned him when he lost the Manor, isn’t that right? As Ati has faded into the desert, the Urash name disappears with Zaman. Do not let his words harm you. He is one to be pitied.”

Urash laughed. “You speak the truth when you’re angry, Boah. That’s what I’ve always liked about you. Sure, you vomit excrement into the masses, but when someone really ticks you off, you’re refreshingly honest.” Urash continued his downward pacing. “We’re close… to the tunnel!”

After a few more steps, Urash walked forward. Juddken held his torch outwards, revealing a small room. After spending so much time in a tight space, the openness was much needed. In front of him, standing about two meters tall, was a figure carved from sandstone. A thick white robe, one far too thick to be worn in the Eivettä, obscured the figure’s entire body. The figure’s arms crossed, perhaps in stoic prayer.

“Forgive me,” said Urash, exerting heavily. “I forgot that Ati himself looks over the alcove. Hope you won’t find it distracting.”

Juddken had never seen Ati depicted in any form before. Regardless of why, speaking Ati’s name alone should be a death sentence. But to have a shrine buried this far underground? Perhaps he wouldn’t even need his father’s permission to kill him.

“Ah,” said Boah. “I never thought I’d see the White Coat in person. Didn’t think anyone still saw him that way.”

“Many dispute its very existence. I don’t claim to be any wiser, for I kiss the ground like many of my contemporaries. But I like to think one of my ancestors thought it would be amusing that anyone who worshipped Ati would pray in this shrine’s direction.”

Juddken looked around the alcove. On the left, the room continued into a small triangular passageway, with just enough space to crawl through. On the right side was a rectangular hallway, just slightly higher than Boah. Although the alcove was lit by Urash’s torch, the passageways on both sides continued far past what they could see. They were still in darkness.

Urash held his arms out to both sides. “Behold, the ‘crawl space’. On my left, you have to path to salvation. Less than a hundred meters of crawling will take you directly to the temple, though I imagine current circumstances have made this a little less compelling. On my right, you have a tunnel that will take you under the cliffs and out towards the desert. Unfortunately, what you see is as high as it goes. It gets much smaller from here on out. Especially around the collapsed section.”

“Collapsed?” asked Boah, annoyed. “How collapsed is it?”

“Not much, really. I was told a few men could clear it over a couple of nights. But that was years ago. It could be worse now. That’s for you to deal with.”

As Boah and Urash debated over the truth of the claims, Juddken wandered away. Though he had come down here to investigate the right tunnel, Juddken found himself entranced by the left. The triangular tunnel that led to the temple. Something about the passageway compelled him to move closer, to explore the way. The voice amplified in his head, becoming a chorus of cries. It was almost shouting at him.

“C O M E F O R T H”

Juddken wanted to answer the call. He knew that if that space led to the temple, he would have to contend with screamers. He remembered how many had gathered around its space. But in the future, he would return to answer the call.

“Juddken.” It was his father. Urash had gone down the hall, tapping his cane along the walls. As the light dimmed, Boah looked into his eyes. “Do you have a list of anyone you can trust? Anyone you believe could come here and assist you with clearing the path?”

The truth was that Juddken had few. Most of the remaining Corps were loyal to him and his father, but they were inexperienced or incompetent. The last few trips had exposed this during screamer attacks.

Still, Juddken could think of two men capable of following orders. While their loyalty wasn’t entirely without question, they had assisted Juddken in everything until this point.

Juddken nodded.