Jollier sunlight. Blades broken and of shadow rang behind them as Woid duelled The Ersecutor, and Shay rushed from the station with Serib. Shay expected there a mass of spectators and escapees alerting the authorities, though what greeted them instead was bright sunlight and park trees in every bloom.
∞
The clear quiet of souls content on their chatty walks.
∞
Suddenly her rushing did not fit the sombre mood and passers-by were disgusted by her haste. Serib happily caught her breath, though she had not been running. The crumbling station they had fled and now turned back to see was instead grandiose, with clear how-to-here-there boards and uniformed employees to assist in navigating the celestially-bound tracks. Potted plants moved as planets through the air for purposes unknown. The glitchy boards were bereft of any numbers larger than eight; causing much confusion as to when transports were to leave or arrive. The traces of these missing things were blurry; a flaking and older paint. A flicker and zap. Smart folk with notebooks were doing their best to figure out the tenses and what exactly was wrong at the station steps and doors of Shuttle Eight. At another stage of its ages.
∞
Shay was lucky and quick enough to catch Serib as she started running back towards the station:
“We can’t just leave him there?” The young shaman growled, her tusks flaring and lightning eyes flashing bright.
“I don’t like it either, but I’ll only get in the way wounded as I am. We just have to hope Woid can slip away.”
“I’ll show them how cool I am.” Serib’s lightning robes fit her eyes.
Shay knelt down, holding Serib by the shoulder:
“If I know anything about shamans, if they’re untrained, you’re likely to destroy the whole building and everyone inside.”
Serib’s proud posture fell.
“It’s alright.” Shay tried to reassure Serib. “He’s been my friend longer than yours… I know him well and-” she was interrupted.
“Are you jolly enough, miss? Is the little one alright, as well?”
∞
Shay turned and there stood a Court-guarde with large and silver hair, wearing Their known armour, their black and white crest of The Order of Entropy. Known in some ages as The Order of Duality. And other such schisms. Shay surmised from their speech and body language they were just on patrol. Not looking for two runaways. She imagined how she must look, fashionable but not without the dirt of whatever ancient station she left behind.
“You are an artist, then?” The guarde enquired politely, as Shay’s outfit was somewhat-that-way.
After standing up and dusting herself off she finally replied to the patient authority, with the best voice she could muster in her wounded state, hiding the pain in her shoulder:
“You have a good eye! Just-must a little lost. We’ve never been to Imirka.”
“Understood. Most I am meeting to-, toda? Ahem.” Whatever word it was she had difficulty saying, got stuck in the guarde’s throat and they could not clear it. “Most souls, they are much more disoriented than you. Toda-… I cannot think of the word. Toda..ee…” they struggled on trying before giving up. “I and my fellows are here to reassure that The Court are aware, and all will be well shortly. It is even affecting me, whatever it is, so you should not be worried.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Shay thought the exact opposite. Whatever was wrong with the clocks in her lineage of Imirka, was happenstancing here much the same, whenever here was.
∞
“I can offer directions, hmm? If you are lost.”
Shay keeping her character, snatched at this opportunity she had been given. Having subtly checked her harness for the seeds she replied relieved:
“River Miernen… there’s a hotel on the bay we have reservations for.”
“Ah, I did know you were a visiting artist! Silvery as I am, I do like to test my more golden senses.”
The guarde pointed in some direction or another that Shay already knew, having asked just for appearances.
∞
As though in a new township altogether, hunting for an elusive target, she wanted to build up her understanding of this newer-or-older Imirka:
“We fancy the sight-seeing while we are here… I’ve heard-word a thing or two. Do you know a Court official by name of Ersecutor? After we’ve seen Peace’s orchard-fountains, obviously.”
“Well, obviously!” The guarde exclaimed. “And, no… though Nonillion are the names of Entropy in Heirarchy; it could be that you know a name I do not.”
‘Nonillion’ Shay thought, there is that word again. ‘From my Towers Nonillion’ The Ersecutor had said. Serib looked around nervously.
“She’s very quiet.” The guarde tried to be friendly and noticed: “A shaman! Those eyes!”
Shay threw out a repetitive sort of smile to try and veer the conversation:
“The official we’re looking for, they have too-many eyes and a strange helmet.”
“Oh!” The guarde held at where their heart was, really squeezing at it. “Dear Anyptes, dear Argus.”
∞
As Shay waited for this outburst to end, Serib saw little birds nabbing at the orbiting flowers. Natural. As should be. She asked before Shay could:
“Could you tell us about him?”
The Court-Guarde shrugged, their armour scraping on itself:
“Without his vision fore-and-far sight, Courtdom could never to have such heights. Argus The Watcher, upon frontiers Far an’ Fore! More than an official is Argus I must correct you - he was one-among the first of Truthdom that helped with The Great Freedom Heirself, to pull us from the squalor of Falsehood. You would learn more and most from the museum-temple of his namesake. A fine age is ours! Allowing that we might learn these things of our history we were once too busy to know, too riled and writhing to know.”
Serib looked up to Shay, quietly ignoring the guarde with her whisper:
“This must be before.”
“Hmm?” The guarde leaned, their armour clanking away.
∞
“Is Need still… bound-around?” Shay asked, following Serib’s lead.
“Why would Hun’gyr not be, miss? That Greed-upstart shall never reign over Need, not fully. Ever shall be their righteous Tangle. Do you hear Greed proposed and almost passed death matches in the arenas? Can you imagine…”
Shay quickly mulled it over before asking:
“And they don’t fight do they, ‘Dear’ Argus?”
“Argus a fighter? Which books have you not been reading, miss? Not a worry, Imirka is a fine place to learn proper Heirstory.”
After parting pleasantries and the guarde left, Shay nodded at Serib. The little shaman followed her dizzy, wounded protector away from the station into narrower streets. Despite being through time and space displaced and dazed, Woid was at the fore of both their hearts.