` ‘Ker slowly awoke at what he thought might be midnight. But once he had opened his eyes, there was no going back to sleep, he had lingered here much too long at it was, and now needed to complete his mission. He slept much more than he had planned to; but it was what the body had needed, what it would take as payment for the vast efforts he had put himself though the night before. And while he had known his healing was nearing its natural end, he had also known not to push himself too hard. Last night 'Tj'Chin'Ker had found too many reasons to do exactly that, though.
He could still see the child dying in its sickbed, and how much the boy reminded him of his favorite nephew.
He could still taste the food, the first solid food he had eaten in far too long, haunting his mouth, and making a pleasant weight in his stomach.
He briefly wondered how the young woman he had waylaid was doing, and if she would have pleasant dreams about her fake memories of their brief encounter.
And he still had his secreted cache of bones he had taken as payment for what he considered his good deed. They had taken very little effort on his part to mold to the purpose for which he needed them. Now they would be perfect. 'Ker grinned at the thought of them, hidden in the box of old clothing in the room of the old man who slept across the hall from him.
The room was now blessedly clear of all staff, and the door had been shut by the last person to check in on him. ‘Ker lie still for a few minutes in the bed just enjoying the feeling of being motionless. Being in a state of perfect rest. Not enough people, he had noticed in his lifetime up to now, ever really appreciated being motionless. Being completely at peace with a absolute State of Null. It was from this point that all True movement in Life could proceed. When you didn't move at all, you could go anywhere.
He began, just like most nights since awakening, to focus on his breathing to center himself for the task of cataloguing the state of his body. Letting his mind go blank ‘Ker let the nerves in his extremities report their sensations. Slowly and with great deliberation he flexed each finger. Stretching every joint in each individual digit, then the entire hand took as much time as it needed; while he knew now most of his healing had been completed, the rehabilitation would have to be done while he fled.
Taking a few moments now, might spare him pain later. His feet came next. Flaring and spreading his toes to work out any stiffness was essential. He took more time than he might have otherwise. Nothing so ruined a good escape like a lumbering gate, stomping through doors like an oaf, and then tripping at every possible opportunity. With a deliberation he might take in hunting a skittish animal, ‘Tj’Chin’Ker braced his feet and shoulders in the bed to arch his back and slowly rotate his pelvis as far as it would go, and in all directions possible. He began to sweat with the effort of reacquainting himself with the exercises that kept him limber throughout his long life.
After removing the I.V. (a term he had learned from NurzEllen, Blessings upon her Hearth and Home) needles and monitoring pads from his flesh, ‘Ker finally whipped the sheets from atop him and stood from the bed to stretch, working his hands slowly up his body from his feet, all along his too skinny legs, on up his knobby hips …I really have waisted away lying here this last year... around his lower spine and ribs, his broad shoulders now cracking as their angles changed and worked his hands past neck, past head, finally to reach for the ceiling.
The creaking in his joints sounded like the snapping of branched in the forest mast under the feet of clumsy hunters to his ears. Vertebrae, knuckles, knees, jaw, and shoulders popped like ice sheets in spring, and a low moan escaped him as the joy of a healthy, if underfed, body and all of its now very minor complaints began to register in his mind. Healthy. or... healthyish... healthy ENOUGH... I hope...
‘Ker turned back to the bed, and lifting the mattress began to dress himself in the blue clothes of the medical staff. hhhrrrmmm... this blue matches my fingers. I'll still need shoes; it looks like winter out there…a cloak, or good wool vest would be nice, too... Remembering the elderly burn victim he had visited in the room across the hall, ‘Ker realized he had just such an option for clothing. He frowned as he thought on the old man’s height. It would do, though. Better too much cloth on a cold day than too little…His shoes will never work for me…I’d look like a child in his father’s slippers…why do all children try on their father’s shoes?
He grinned fiercely as his thoughts wandered to his brother’s children. Remembering the sight of a not yet two year old nephew trying to put on ‘Dne’s hunting boots, and toppling over in the attempt, ‘Ker had to work to stifle a laugh. He had even seen some few of the girls try it a time or two when their mothers weren’t about.
Tears on his cheeks he didn’t know whether they came from suppressed mirth, or barely held in grief. It didn’t matter in the end, he had to get moving.
With a great deal of care ‘Ker dressed himself in the darkened room of a doomed man. The ticking noise of the round device on the wall began to make him nervous; its metered sounds chopping the time ‘Ker spent clothing himself into smaller and smaller pieces. Up until this very night the sound the device made had been soothing to 'Ker, but now it's charms had turned from "Stay! Sleep! Stay! Sleep! Rest! Here! Safe! Here! Safe! Here!" into a maddening chant of "Run! Flee! Run! Flee! Run! Flee! Run! Flee! Run! Flee!"
I have no clue what that thing is for, but it makes me feel like I’m somehow already late and out of time…
Wearing the clothes of a dead man held no fears, nor instilled any great trepidation for someone who fought in hundreds of blood-soaked campaigns; but ‘Ker was uncomfortable taking the vestments of the not yet dead. It was rude. His father had raised him to do better; but THE Father had given ‘Ker his orders. And he was now tragically overdue, just as the ticking little machine suggested with every infuriating “KTACK-KTICK” sound it made.
‘Tj’Chin‘Ker wondered if the Father had written him off as dead yet. If there was a timeframe he had let himself hope during, that now he had lost, and would send someone else through. If he already had sent others through the Fire Gates.
Would they send more through the Paths? Now that the two fools had fed the portals and blooded the ways, would the next members of his race sent through fare better? The Sibyls that slept in the tombs under the throne room in the Great Keep might know, but ‘Tj’Chin’Ker did not. If they do send more through, the fact that I survived will get back to the Mother. And then more will come for me. As long as I never return, I should be safe from Her, as the Law says, but She won’t care about what the Laws on exile say; only about revenge. Ah Mother of us all, why are you so petty? …In this new lingo they use here, pretty and petty are so closely matched; it can’t be by happenstance... he thought in a frenzy. He slipped across the hall in an equally frenzied scurry.
Buttoning up the shirt had been easy, but the strange metal closure on the crotch of the pants was a puzzle all its own. Until ‘Ker noticed the small metal tab at the bottom of the two rows of tiny teeth, he had attempted three times to put on the trousers. With a slow clickity-buzz-like noise, he finally got how the device worked, and giggled over all the little things humans would do to make their lives more complex. The old man’s wool coat was a stylish affair with lovely, antler toggles. Long enough to reach the old man’s knees, and thus much too long for ‘Ker’s diminutive body, but he was more than willing to take it as well as the rest of the clothes while the wind noisily rattled the windows in their frames. Folding back the sleeves several times to expose his hands, the great coat hanging to below his mid calves to sway about his ankles, ‘Ker was almost ready to depart.
The small towel wrapped bundle was the last thing he took from the bottom of the box that had held the old man's clothing in the darkened closet. ‘Ker was very satisfied to find interior pockets in the coat he now wore, and even happier to find that the precious package he was carrying fit snuggly into one of those pockets.
He said a brief blessing, and cast a small spell of healing on the old man, a minor offering in exchange for the vestments he now wore. He knew it wasn't enough, but he also knew he couldn't do offer more to the poor elderly burn victim than this. And with that, I’m away…
The walk down the stairs to the ground floor was quiet; at this time of night most of the hospital’s staff and the more ambulatory patients tended towards use of the powered lifts. ‘Ker had yet to figure out how those scary sliding doors worked, and what they did that so many people entered the small closets beyond them, yet other people streamed from them as if standing in a closet was so wonderful the humans around him had to take turns and enter and exit in shifts. He had figured them as a way to easily get from one floor to another, but only if you knew the secret of how it was done; and he had no time to dawdle trying to learn yet another insane contraption in this huge building.
Coming out of the doors at the bottom of the staircase where the number said "1," he steeled his resolve. And then realized he had yet to reach the actual ground floor.
Reentering the stairwell, and another floor down, he now saw through the widows in a near office, the ground level outside. A prayer, and a quick breath.
Passing the front desk gave ‘Tj’Chin’Ker the worst of the apprehension he suffered in his escape from the tall odd building so far. Being shoeless gave him pause as he stood just inside the stairwell watching the front desk and lobby. A single out of shape and thoroughly bored guard stood near the front doors, and an elderly woman sat the desk. Of the two, the old woman looked the greater of the threats. As he watched, the soft man reached into his pocket to remove a bright white rectangular object, flourish it at the lady behind the desk, and then the dumpy man turned and strode from the building as she waved him away with a sour look.
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Standing just outside of the doors he lit a flame from something in his other hand, and stood with his back to both the lobby and ‘Ker. Small puffs of smoke rose from his head in excess of his steaming breath. ‘Ker began to cock his head to one side to get a better view, when he remembered why he had come down here in the first place. Not to watch what odd and unknowable things a tired guard might use to liven up his watch, but to leave.
And now he had one less obstacle between himself and the doors. The walk up to and past the desk was slow and paced so as not to arouse any suspicion, but ‘Ker felt drops of sweat forming at his hairline all the same. He tried on a variety of smiles as the seated crone loomed ever larger. …don’tseemedon’tseemedon’tseemeohpleasedon’tseeme…. But the woman never raised her bespectacled eyes from the large sheets of white paper before her.
With a push like the one he had seen the guard use, ‘Ker muscled through the door to the cold dark freedom of the awaiting town. He stood stonily for a few moments as the huge buildings and uniformly smooth rock paved causeway surrounded him.
It’s all so big…how did they manage to build so big? As a lived in town? NurzEllen called this a town! Repeatedly! Its buildings are bigger than any city I’ve ever seen…How…it’s like the stories ‘Dne told me of the slave built cities of the dead servants of Ra! This must be a giant of a city, filled with wealth and trade! No wonder there are so many sick and injured in this place, human trading centers have always been heavily fought over, and teeming with filth and disease…explains a bit. But why would NurzEllen call it a town? I must have gotten the meaning of the word she used wrong…
“Help ye hail a taxi, sir?” A booming jovial voice was at his ear, shocking ‘Ker from his astonishment and making him start. “Oh, sorry! Did’na mean te give ye a fright, but I saw the lost look ye had, and thought te me’sel, Drew! Thas’ a man wa nids a ride hame! AmIRight, Eh?”
The affable moonlike face of the hospital’s guard hove into view as ‘Ker caught his breath. Not getting all the guard’s words but recognizing the helpful tone of voice, he nodded his head and tried one of the grins that had worked well in the past with people he couldn’t understand. A white stub of rolled paper hung from the bulbously soft fellow’s lower lip, bouncing and jiggling about as he spoke, the bright ember at its tip making jittery red trails through the air before the mans fleshy cheeks.
What’ in All Seven Hells is that SMELL? Was this man’s last meal a cat cooked with the fur still on its hide and the organs still inside? ‘Ker’s people had long ago made the consuming of feline flesh taboo. They all knew the flesh reeked, and could not imagine eating something so repulsive; this to the point that many of the insults they flung most direly concerned the smell of cat meat.
“Ah, timin’ is the key, hey? Ah see one coomin’ up'te lane, e’new!” A flabby arm waved vaguely in the direction of a pair of bright lights and a rumbling noise, both getting closer with alarming speed. As the guard turned back to ‘Ker’s wrinkle nosed face, his eyes traveled down to the ground surveying the little man before him. A puzzled look slowly congealed from the fatty wattles of his features. “Its midwinter, boy! Where are your sho…?”
The hair on the back of his neck went ridged with the feeling that lightning was about to strike, ‘Ker ducked just as a loud cracking noise filled his ears with a ringing of concussive force battering his ears. Something faster than an arrow whipped angrily through the space his head once occupied, and the fat man in the dark blue uniform fell at his feet. The kindly smile that once split the fellow’s wide face had slumped away, frightened off by a loud bang in the cold dark night. As ‘Ker looked down at the guard’s body, blood seeped from under the man’s corpse. A quick look behind him as he crouched over the body showed a tall dark man all dressed in white running up to him with a grim look, and a long knife.
Another white clad man stood father back holding out his right arm as if pointing at ‘Ker with some dark object in his hand, a pale vapor escaped the end of the dark thing making its languid bid to join the clouds in the sky. The attacker closing with him was too tall, too long legged and too near to bother running from; ‘Ker lashed out with his right foot as he arched his back, and hunched his shoulders for the extra bit of power it gave his kick. The impact ran up from his bare feet to the top of ‘Ker’s head making uncomfortable resonances as the force of the blow echoed through his tensely held posture. With a crash the palely dressed apparition flew over ‘Ker’s huddled form, landing shrieking on his back. The elegantly curved knife flew from his would be killer’s fingers to clatter into the gutter.
Faster than he expected, ‘Ker’s adversary regained his impetus, and with a guttural curse that sounded like a language ‘Ker had rarely ever heard spoken before, lunged to grab at him, his long fingered hands wrapping around 'Ker's wrists.
Ah, they’re from Kemet!
‘Ker saw the way in which the tall bellowing fool kept his right leg curled, and suspected his attacker had a broken knee, and was trying to hold his shin as still as possible. Awkwardly balanced on his right hip holding, on to both of his small captive’s wrists, the tall man shouted some short sharp words over ‘Ker’s head, presumably to his friend who he had seen oddly pointing moments ago. Another loud banging crack assailed his ears, and a red rimmed tear appeared on the sleeve of the white jacketed arm holding his right wrist. ‘Ker’s attacker had a moment to struggle with him before the pain of the wound hit his mind hammer-like.
As his left arm contracted in agony, and the accompanying hand fell from ‘Ker; his large almond shaped eyes widened in shock, and a stream of nonsense sounding angry syllables were bellowed to the man still behind ‘Ker. The bloody distraction, whatever had caused it, was all he needed. ‘Ker used his now freed hand to fish one of the two newly made bone knives from the inner pocket of his coat. With a flick of his wrist, it spun gracefully in his hand to reverse his grip on the slender, deadly sliver. Another almost flourish-like motion of ‘Ker’s wrist sent the edge of the ivory blade down the side of the much taller man’s cheek to his neck. With a startled and incoherent scream, the attacker folded himself down to the ground to sob his last few breaths away into the cold night air as he tried to hold both the bloody ruin of his neck and the flayed horror of his face.
The smell of rot and decay bloomed in the air, sickly sweet, and pungent. It was strong enough that 'Ker recoiled further from the man in stained white clothing who now died on the hard stone ground before him.
‘Tj’Chin’Ker tensed and dropped down by the dying body to find the other, farther, attacker point his extended arm toward the oncoming light and sound of the taxi. A crack rebounded from the walls of the near buildings as one more of the deadly little projectiles flew through the onrushing vehicle. The great glass façade he had just exited through shattered in an unholy cacophony.
Without wasting a moment, ‘Ker came up to a crouch and hurled the bone knife through the right arm of his second ivory adorned foe. The man’s face registered shock, pain, and melted to misery before he fell gasping in saliva flecking pain, just as had his compatriot, only slumping against the wall of a tall building across the road from where 'Ker crouched before finally falling to the puddle lined cement.
‘Ker slowly stood, head turning in as many directions as he might find; no new killers on the street that he could yet see. The taxi decelerated and came to a stop a few yards short of where he stood over the bodies of both the fallen guard and the assassin. He began to reach for the second bone knife in his coat, knowing he could not get to the first one in time to stop whoever might come at him from this rumbling conveyance. With an almost earsplitting creak the nearer door of the carriage swung open to reveal a startled looking NurzEllen unfolding her long lines from the too small space in the carriage. While he was relieved it was her, ‘Ker couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing here, and why she began to run to him.
The look of horror and anger on her face told him nothing about the reasons for her being there, it was unhelpful at best. He made a dash, scrambled about retrieving his possessions. He backed cautiously away as she knelt by the two victims on the ground, first feeling the neck of the guard, then the man in the white suit. As she pulled his lifeless hands away from his face, she let out a gasp at the horrible state in which ‘Ker had left the man.
“Ellen, come away from there, they’re beyond your skills!” Came the urgent, rumbling baritone of a small man from just behind her. ‘Ker hadn’t noticed the dwarf get out of the cab, being so absorbed in the NurzEllen's unexpected presence.
He had never really had any grievances against the little rock miners, but neither had he actually liked any that he had met. The H’Aghram tended to be clannish, secretive, and a generally irritable, and quick to anger people. They rarely left the mountains they called home; or at least the mountains they called “H’Alahla,” which to them meant, he guessed, “Home.”
While ‘Ker hadn’t discounted the other races, he hadn’t counted them, either. In his long rehabilitation, ‘Ker had spent many hours thinking back on what tribes of whom generally lived in the area in which he thought he had arrived. It never hurt to be prepared for the bargaining he was ready to do when passing through one of their villages, but he hardly expected one of these to be the first non-human he met. They hardly ever left the mountains in which they lived, and traveled in small family groups for safety when they did. But here he was, and with NurzEllen.
The little man turned to him, and in his own tongue said, “Hello, you can call me Abvallacan Trutt, though everyone around here calls me “Trout” like I’m some tasty fish…Go get your other knife, boy. You don’t want someone else to get a hold of your magics. And put that one away while you’re at it, no need to attract more attention, hey?” Narrowing his eyes in suspicion at Trout, ‘Ker backed toward the putrefying body and went to get his thrown bone knife. He didn’t bother to reply yet; no need to give away more than needed until he knew where these two stood.
He listened to the dwarf talk to NurzEllen as he retreated.