Viter

The merchant districts were left behind their backs and, with them, the slaves that they took from the Manor. These were currently on their way back, burdened with various salts and tinctures his master had purchased.

Viter never bothered to understand how all that alchemy worked. He thought it was magical, but somehow the murk could harness it. At least Domina thought he could, which was the only thing that mattered. But apparently, the alchemist traders couldn’t figure out his purchases either. They had visited multiple stores today where merchants had offered products with purer elements of fire or water to substitute whatever compound they didn’t have. Only for Erf to turn them down, despite their vigorous assurances that “your Alchemist master will definitely appreciate these better.”

He nervously glanced once again at his current owner. Hopefully, the murk didn’t lie about his knowledge. Hopefully, Domina won’t punish them both when she finds out if that was true.

The only consistency he had found in his purchases was purity. Whatever Erf was trying to buy, he was willing to drop enough cuts to get the cleanest and purest product. He would crawl through the piles of coals, pawing almost every piece, to find the blackest and the shiniest lumps. He would argue incessantly with coppersmiths to get weaker metals compared to the stronger brass. Viter even had to intervene a few times to protect the murk from irate merchants, when he would offhandedly call their wares contaminated or plain dirty.

He knew his master was fey-touched, but at least it looked like he knew what he was doing. Which meant that Domina was unlikely to cut his head out of anger. He wasn’t sure if she was that type of master but he was also unwilling to find out the hard way.

Despite all that, he was in a great position right now and he would prefer to keep it that way for as long as possible. The moonstruck master of his was of a quiet character. Usually appearing meek until pushed far enough. Overly eager to please everyone and content to spend his time quietly mixing his tinctures, or performing whatever task Domina or the Lady of the House had for him that day.

No wonder these two girls snatched him up so quickly.

And they struck gold in doing so. Viter was given a stipend for his work, all slaves under Erf’s command were, but these two held his fat purse. The purse was large enough that he himself wouldn’t be against pursuing the murk. But Irje watched him like a hawk. He saw how quickly she suborned these stipends. Now, instead of the free money given by a naive master, these became incentives to work harder, like carrots for the mules.

He liked his stipend and the work was easier than ever. And the fact that he had a personal room for the first time in his life.

What he didn’t like right now was the meanderings of his master.

He looked around, glaring at all these shifty eyes watching them non-stop. They already passed the craftsmen alleys, full of noise and smoke, and they were approaching seedier neighbourhoods. Ones that were closer to the harbours. Not the marble ones of the upper city, but the smelly ones, full with fishermen and cargo barges. The air chockful with fish and rot.

“Is this where you agreed to meet your friend?” He asked incredulously, shifting his claws out and in just in case.

“No, but he should be somewhere here anyways.” His master answered offhandedly.

He flexed nervously. Erf’s purse, much thinner by now, was still poking out from under his sash. Worst of all, he saw him shovelling some poisons under his tunic. He wasn’t sure what the small pouches were with, but the little clay jar with a greasy and foul tincture made it obvious. Altogether that meant the meeting might be a rowdy one.

And he still had to make sure Erf won’t be robbed before, during, or after.

“Do you want me to mess him up? Or threaten?” He offered instead. The quicker they were done here - the better.

“What? No!” The murk exclaimed, “No one is going to threaten anyone, at least not yet anyway.”

He sighed, relieved. One less thing for him to worry about.

“Besides, if you do that, he would kill you, most likely.”

And in that instant, all that relief he felt just now disappeared. What kind of thug were they meeting that could casually murder these, who belonged to Kiymetl? This was the harbour area, most of the people here either worked directly for one of the Kiymetl Manors or worked for someone, who was. And the spare few, who answered to others, knew well enough to respect and fear the Pillar Manor of Trade.

The seals on their necks already made them nearly invisible to local thugs.

Or, perhaps, Erf didn’t even realize that fact. Still, for him to say it so assuredly meant that he either thought the other guy to be that strong or him to be that weak. Viter didn’t like either of these options. There weren’t any easy ways for him to show off his strength inside the Manor. And getting sold off if his master wrongfully assumed him to be weak and useless would be problematic.

Erf wasn’t his first master. He was however the first master to be that loose with his money and lax in his demands. There weren’t many masters like that around, mostly because these would be quickly stripped of their wealth due to their naivete.

“Ah, I think I see him.”

He followed his gaze only to notice a rather empty part of an otherwise crowded street. Day workers and beggars alike avoided the deserted hot food store. The cook and owner of the establishment was wringing his arms, glancing listlessly at the sole ‘customer’ sitting at one of the tables.

He swallowed. Hard.

“Hey, Erf? Don’t tell me that he is the one we are meeting.”

Seeing his master’s nonchalant nod, Viter hissed, “Listen, he isn’t a normal wer!”

Erf glanced back at him and at his thumb pointing upward, and nodded, “Yeah, he is good, it is all clear.”

He groaned, nothing was clear in that head of his. “Domina would not approve,” he quietly whispered, opting for the drastic measures.

The murk kept walking, “She is aware.”

He sighed in his mind, as he followed along. Erf was even more important than he realized, to interact with so many Wermages all the time. He wasn’t sure what Erf was tasked to do by Domina, but it mattered little to him. What did matter was that, if he threw his dice right, he could be walking out of this as a free wer. Perhaps even rich too.

Erf dropped himself into a bench in front of the Noble Wermage. “So, we meet again, Albin.”

Viter sucked the air in, expecting the worst. Was he insane? Does he want to die that badly?

The Wermage quietly placed a magical talisman on the table, as his scowl grew. Large blue eyes rose up and stared at the murk, only to shift onto him afterwards.

He took a step back, cautious of the attention.

“So you have gotten yourself a guard. Make sure that he guards you properly, however.” The Wermage slowly mused, only to interrupt responding Erf. His glowing spark shimmered as the table plunged into silence. Obscuring their conversation from him and the rest of the passers-by.

Viter kept his face calm. Crazy murk probably knew more Wermages than he interacted with throughout his entire life. Suddenly guarding him didn’t feel like an easy task it once was.

Not that he had a choice in that matter.

XXX

I raised my eyebrow at Albin’s actions, “Was it really that necessary to scare my bodyguard?”

Today I was calm. Much calmer than yesterday. I knew how close I came to screwing everything up, and I had no desire to repeat the same process.

Yesterday I was angry. I was angry at the arrogant wermages, expecting everything to be rightfully theirs. I was angry at the Emanai to allow such a system to continue. But most importantly I was angry at myself. I was angry that it took me that long to remember my family, still slaving away on a farm. I was furious that I’ve spent weeks to keep myself safe, only to realize how much I could help others when Yeva literally begged me to buy her out.

No wonder Domina couldn’t make heads or tails on my behaviour until I started showing real concern about those that were close to me. Manors were the cornerstones of Emanai. Not the buildings themselves, but the people who inhabited them. Large extensive family structures sought the prosperity of their whole group, rather than individual wealth and independence. They were the reason sadaq-at existed. Polygamous marriages established links between multiple communities rather than catering to the individual desires of a bride and a groom.

To her, the murk that cared mostly about philosophy and magic was bizarre. Virnan Shah didn’t study natural philosophy because he simply wanted to. He studied it because Kiymetl was wealthy enough not to spend all their efforts on sustenance. Even then, somehow that study fuelled his strength with the Flow and strengthened the Kiymetl in return. And that example was the least outlandish in my own eyes.

Until Yeva forced my eyes to open. Until Sophia forced my heart to scream.

The restful sleep had stopped my shakes, which I didn’t realize I had. It silenced the dizzying buzz inside my head, the pressure on my mind, and the screams inside my heart. Yeva was close in her observations but not exact. It wasn’t the frustrated Erf that was lashing out yesterday, it was the young Erf. The murk Erf, who suddenly realized that all this knowledge wasn’t enough. Like a kid, who suddenly noticed that the door to his home was locked for the first time ever.

I needed power.

If Domina’s influence wasn’t enough, I will accrue my own. Either with tools - the reagents for which I’ve spent hours to buy. Or with my own connections.

The historian sat in front of me. The one, who was quite shrewd himself and somehow interested in my self. The brother with an unusually pensive face. Was he already aware of what his sister had done? The last time we’ve met he was awfully worried about it. How much of it was a worry for the arrogance of his sister compared to the speculation of the Shebet Speaker.

Perhaps he was simply constipated.

“A guard is not just another slave that follows you around. He needs to be aware of what his tasks might be.”

“It was enough, until yesterday.” I replied, “When your sister publicly proclaimed that the Alchemist of Kiymetl had captured the eye of the Speaker of Shebet. While quite forcefully trying to buy me from my Domina.”

I had no desire to rush this conversation. I had no idea how much he knew by now and beforehand. And instantly accusing him of plotting to take my family would do nothing but potentially give him the crucial information he didn't have before. So I would start from afar. I won’t start as the irate Erf who had his family promoted to the candidacy for the sacrifice.

Right now, I was the somewhat friendly Erf, still grateful for his previous actions, but somewhat annoyed at the antics of his sister. What Sophia had done could potentially harm my family, but that was still in the future. While Albin had saved my skin previously and jump-started Irje’s magical career. Forgetting his contributions simply because of what another person had done was not a good thing to do.

If he was responsible I would gain nothing. And if he wasn’t I would simply burn the bridge we had established beforehand.

Albin glanced at the card on the table, his hands shuffling the rest of the deck absentmindedly, “And your Domina obviously refused. I can imagine that didn’t sit well with Sophia. Don’t worry about your purchase, it is not as fun having you in my House. Especially beholden to my sister, she won’t benefit from the challenge otherwise.”

I blinked. Did he have no idea what his sister had invoked? Or was he simply playing the role of an unconcerned brother? Perhaps, in the wermage fashion, he didn’t even realize the consequences of these actions.

His reaction was a bit unexpected, but I planned for something like that, however. Or, better to say, my plans were simple and flexible enough not to easily crumble from the first unexpected revelation.

I came here with a task. A task of getting Albin on my side in the clash against his sister. Simple threats or intimidations would never work. The drugs of the neurotropic and lethal kind were more for my safety if shit hit the fan, rather than as a viable plan to attack anyone, and especially a wermage.

My most deadly weapon was still my knowledge. I just needed to apply it properly so Albin would consider that keeping me alive and very happy would be the best possible outcome in the upcoming events. And I knew exactly what to say to the one who called himself a historian while the rest of the Emanai called him one of their rulers.

“I’ve received your gift as well,” I veered off the conversation from the sensitive topic for now. No point pushing it yet. I would only lose my possible advantage. “The variety was just enough to give me everything that I will need from them.”

“Oh?” The spark of interest returned to his eyes, “And what are you going to make from them? This question had been on my mind for quite some time, as they are too thick to weave into a cloth.”

“I will make music. Loud, crisp, and clear.” I smiled conspiratorially.

It was his time to blink. “Music? You did all that to replace the catgut with metal?” He laughed incredulously, “I was right in my curiosity, Only someone like you would spend an offer from one of the Pillar Manors on something like that.”

I smiled slightly as I spread my hands, “That is what I crave: just to be safe, well-fed, and to spend my time experiencing new things in life.”

While what I said was true, I said it out loud for a reason. Subliminal messaging was important. I was the nice and fuzzy Erf, happy to tinker in my own shop and be left alone as long as you give my family back. Someone, whom you are not afraid to offer help because I would use that help to make things like music. Instead of growing stronger and backstabbing those who pushed me up.

Albin shook his head, “You actually remind me of some of my relatives, and not the murks I tend to find here.” His gaze swept across the street only to return to me, as he rested his elbows on the table. His head supported by hands, which were still holding the deck of cards, “So, have you come to finally share some of your stories?”

I shuddered internally. I wasn’t sure being compared to the Shebet House members was a compliment in my book anymore.

Instead, I chose the Socratic approach, “Do you know what sets all of us apart from animals?”

“Something tells me, that you aren’t looking for the usual answers. Like intelligence and Flow.” Albin immediately played along.

“While some might argue that, but intelligence is a complex thing with different species coming out ahead of one another in different categories. Many animals trump even us in certain aspects. The same could be said about Flow since there are Beasts that are magical and much stronger than a single wer and many a wermage. Or we wouldn’t have walls on our borders.” I agreed, “What sets us apart are tools. We are the greatest toolmakers and, most importantly, we are the greatest tool-users.”

It was actually nice to see him shift from entertaining my thoughts to actively pondering on them. Every other wermage had been dismissive of my knowledge from the start, except him. With others, I had to make sure that my theories would align with their thoughts initially, or at least greatly benefit them from the start. While Albin simply appeared to enjoy my tirades despite my status. Even on a debatable topic such as this.

It almost made me feel guilty with what I was about to do.

“Once a person forges a first sword, others follow. First Bow, first wheel, first fire. The first word and first number. For there are material tools, tools of the mind, and tools of Flow. Both runed objects and, most likely, the Artifacts.” I kept talking. What set the Artifacts apart from things simply carved with runes was that they required no mage to power them. Like the Orb of Truth, or the Pillar Towers themselves. But despite their rarity and mythical origins they were clearly hand-made. Artificial.

His grin was back. “So that is how you got the whole Kiymetl abuzz. You gave them tools. No, you gave them knowledge of these tools so they could make these themselves.”

I nodded, “Precisely. I taught my Domina how to count her money faster and more accurately. I pointed to Virnan the factorials and the notion of infinity, which allowed him to delve deeper into the al-jabr of mathematics. The Algebra.”

“And managed to annoy my sister by a great amount.” He quipped, “Especially with the numbers. Tell me Erf. What Daimon are you, to know these things?”

“I am no demon, Albin. I am just a murk.”

Huh. Somehow the Red Devil himself was the first to question the origins of my knowledge as well as my humanity. Aside from Irje and Yeva that is. Somehow every other wermage conveniently ignored the potential issue. Until now.

“So you say,” He murmured as one of his hands opened up to reveal a glowing lattice of blue lines. Floating in midair. Crowned by a bold “1” on top of it. “And so you think. How interesting.”

“I guess Shebet has their own Orbs of Truth. Or should I say, The Spell?” I raised my eyebrow.

Whatever it was it very clearly resembled The Orb of Aikerim, both in shape and likely in action. But the inner parts were definitely more complex than any runework I had seen before. Rune lines were simple. They were often straight and sometimes curved and gained complex effects either from stacking multiple lines on top of each other or relying on a larger area to carve it out. Both of which had obvious limitations and nasty side effects if you went too far.

The lines, that sprung up out of thin air, had much more complex geometry. They appeared to rely on all three dimensions in order to force the desired effect. Something that the books never mentioned.

It looked like I would need to get more advanced manuals in the future.

The glow disappeared back into nothing, as he closed his palm once more.

“Every House has its own trinkets,” he spoke as the same hand gently brushed his hair past his horns. Quite useful that, the large protrusions easily kept the few loose hairs away from his face. “Do keep it secret, however. Manors like their privacy and talking about it might get you in a very unfortunate spot where neither I nor your Domina could keep you out of.”

I huffed. Albin was apparently my hindsight. Always warning me about things I’d had already done. But I took his words to heart nevertheless. I already had House of Esca at my back, I definitely didn’t want Shebet to join them as well in the future.

“Well, let us put that away, for now. I believe you were talking about tools.” Albin quickly lost interest in interrogating me, most likely placated by the spell of his.

“I was, and I was also thinking of the things I could provide to others. Especially the ones who generously supplied me with trinkets to study and strings to play with.”

“Hoh, how fortuitous. But do you actually have a tool like that? The one I do not have, but need?” He challenged me.

“Me? A mere murk?” I asked in a false mocking fashion, only for him to grin in reply, “Of course I wouldn’t have anything that a Speaker of Shebet might ever need. But I might have something for Albin, the historian.”

“Ah! It was a story after all. Perhaps we should continue this in a more comfortable place? I guarantee you that Sophia would not find out if you would spend the day in one of our outer residences.”

I smiled, “That would be unnecessary. Unfortunately, I have the tasks I need to attend to afterwards. But I would continue this tale in the future. For my first tale, I want to tell you of a historian of the past most ancient. A man, like you perhaps, who wasn’t simply satisfied just to record the history itself. He wanted to understand how to study it, learn the best ways how it should be recorded…”

Twin eyes of blue stared at me without moving as I began my tale of Ibn Khaldun, A man who was one of the first to walk the path of sociology, and historiography: the study of methods to develop history as a discipline. My story was short, however, for I did not come here for a full lesson.

“Fascinated by civilizations of the past and present he studied them as a concept. He recognized the patterns in different countries and different dynasties. Not just as the groups of murks, wer, and wermages that were apart from animals, nor people of one country like Emanai. He saw societies. He recognized the ‘Asabiyyah: the cohesion and unity of a country as it grows and prospers into the unrivalled power.”

I leaned forward, “And the eventual lack of it, as it declines and dies.”

Albin frowned, “Are you saying that the Emanai might die?”

I shook my head, “No, I am saying that it will.”

His hands moved, rapidly shuffling the deck, until now forgotten. A new card slammed on the table, face down, as he scowled at me. “And you are planning to destroy it? This isn’t just blasphemy, this is treason!” He hissed.

I couldn’t help myself, but gulp. Albin took me more seriously than Aikerim. Or, to say precisely, comprehended the possibilities better. No wonder that he was the Speaker.

“Not at all! It will happen by itself. Sooner or later. With or without my ‘help’. Just like us, societies have their own lifespans. Emanai is simply coming to an end as they all do.” I quickly refuted, unwilling to risk my life with an ‘accidental magical discharge’.

He visibly relaxed, but the previously jovial atmosphere was long gone, “And what makes you think that?”

“Your wars,” I spoke honestly and calmly. This wasn’t the blackmail, this was an advertisement pitch. “I’ve heard the talks of the Pillar Manors in the bath. Emanai wages wars to obtain food and slaves. It can no longer sustain itself without taking from others by force.”

“This is how the world works. If you aren’t strong enough, someone will come and take from you.”

“But you don’t always have to take from others in order to grow strong yourself. The problem of Emanai is that it is stuck in a Malthusian trap it cannot overcome. With every year, your population grows much faster than the food you gain from your land. Eventually, you have too many mouths to feed and too few grains in your barns. So you are forced either to raid or face starvation. And wars only postpone the inevitable. They thin your ranks and yield the spoils thus giving you the breathing room. But the wall is still in front of you, you simply took a step back to recover-”

“Unless the gods will intervene,” Albin interjected.

“Can the gods feed all of Emanai? Every day? How about two or even ten?” I asked, making him halt in his rebuke. “The gods won’t intervene, because if they do, they would kill the Emanai society even faster. As it is not yet ready for a post-scarcity economy. With divine handouts, such country will grow increasingly dependant on them, losing their self-identity and becoming nothing else but pets for their masters.”

Whether they existed or not was a discussion for yet another day. I wouldn't waste all this effort to end up arguing religion.

“I know quite a few who would say that is exactly how it is supposed to be.” Albin mused.

“But not you, Al,” I said, “Otherwise you wouldn’t care for a murk being chased down the alley. Or entertain his ideas.”

He sighed, “And yet said ‘murk’ is trying to wrest more, or he wouldn’t start this conversation out of the blue.”

“Because said murk is desperate. For he was forced into a corner by your own sister.”

I could see the gears turning in his head.

“You…You are from Chimgen, aren't you? And so is your family.” He finally exhaled.

“Bingo.” I bitterly smiled as he groaned, “I would have been content to learn and teach, but she is giving me no choice.”

The tail slammed into the ground with a resounding crack.

“If you have any plans on threatening her, I suggest you to drop them immediately. You might be full of curiosities, but I would not allow you to endanger my family. Even if I have to explain to Aikerim Adal why I had to kill you here and right now.” He spoke calmly as his tail slowly scraped the rocks on the ground.

“No. If I was planning anything of sorts I would not be here at all. Despite my feelings brought forth by her actions, the safety of my family comes first.”

A third card landed on the table in absolute silence.

He shook his head ruefully, His horns swaying back and forth, “So you will go against Emanai itself, her traditions and religion, and all the gods as well. You will waste your life in doing so.”

“I will do it because I must.” I whispered, “I will not cast away my own family.”

“Tell me, Erf.” His eyes pierced mine, “Do they speak like you too?”

I jerked back as if slapped, my mind reeling from his words.

“Do they know as much as you do?” He continued quietly, as my fingers clenched, “Or even act like you. And judging from your face they do not. I don’t know why you still cling to the idea that you are a murk. Despite having a body of one. That family, you consi-”

“Shut the fuck up, Albin.” I growled, slamming my fists on the table, “Your sister doesn’t act nor talk like you either, but you would protect her nevertheless. I am here because of them, and they have done their best to get me as far as they could! And I will do my familial duty. And fuck these gods of yours, the ones you don't even bother braiding your hair for!”

He choked on my last sentence, laughing incredulously. But before I could consider if I should punch his face or not the laughter sharply stopped.

“Three days, Erf. Give me three days to plan and I will tell you what I can do. Stay low in the meantime and do not, I repeat, do not say a word to anyone. Especially to your Domina, or any other wermage. Unless you wish to find out how they treat a possible apostate.”

I gathered myself and nodded shakily. “I will be discreet. But I would prefer not to sit and wait, while the rest of the city prepares for the ‘ritual’.”

He waved me off, “Don’t worry about Samat preparations. Shebet hadn’t sent the messenger yet to Chimgen and I will make sure she won’t have time to leave any time soon. Whatever plans you might think of - they can wait until my answer. If you have other projects - do them instead, but don’t attract any attention to yourself. And watch. Your. Back.”

I sighed, as the pressure at the back of my mind slowly let go, yet didn’t disappear entirely. I didn’t put all my faith in him, but what he offered was huge. Better than anything I could come up with at this point. He was ambiguous but I couldn’t fault him for it. Just as he said, we were possibly conspiring to challenge their religious doctrines. And he was risking much more than I did.

“For what it is worth, you have my thanks and my apologies.” I got up and bowed. Just the fact that he would stop the messenger for a few days gave quite a lot of breathing room if not to plan but at least to think and rest. And finish other projects in the meantime. “And when I manage to retrieve my family, you will have my gratitude.”

Albin Shebet Chasya

Their conversation didn’t last long after that. Erf had managed to achieve what he came here for, and he was struggling with a plethora of new thoughts himself. Ideas and, worst of all, expectations that Erf laid down made sense to him. No matter how distasteful he had found them to be, he could not easily refute their possibility.

Erf omitted the crucial detail, however. Time. The cycles he had described wouldn't happen overnight, nor in a hundred years. Erf would be most likely dead by that point, but he would still be around. And he could already see the climb of luxuries and corruption across the Emanai Manorat. The Chimgen Manor itself was suffering from a few too many lavish parties that they had indulged in. He wasn’t sure if he should punish their gluttony for what it would undoubtedly cause, or stay his hand for it had brought Erf into this city.

The sounds disappeared once more, including the retreating steps of a murk and his hapless bodyguard. As the figures all around him had frozen once again, his hand reached out and turned the card face up. The card he drew for his own sister. It had been troubling him for a few paces of the day until the recent meeting had brought him clarity of the events unfurling.

There were only few Divine cards in the deck. Each with a character of its own. Each - unwilling to come out unless the situation was far from mundane. Each of them - cryptic and two-faced as the Gods themselves.

He looked down at the image of a crumbling tower. The Divine Consequence promising both retribution and renewal. To crumble old and build anew.

The second card was for Erf. The Divine Death. The cessation of one, or by one. To kill or to be killed.

And the last one - for himself.

The Divine Choice.

He smirked looking at it. How apt. The scales on the card were nearly identical to the golden ones on Erf’s neck.

His fingers clenched as if to crumble them but he thought otherwise at the last moment.

“What have you unleashed, Sophia.” He murmured as the hands shuffled the cards back into the deck. The Flow resuming its original direction, no longer disturbed by the draw. “And just where will this take all of us?”

Having met him in person on multiple occasions he was now very familiar with the wake he cast upon the river of Fate. A Daimon of the past, the ancestral soul entombed in a murk’s body. But there was something else. His splashes were beginning to uncover something even greater. Like the scales of a beast that had been slumbering on an ocean floor for millennia at a time, getting ready to wake up once again.

Time of leisure was over, he now had a lot of work to be done in the upcoming days.

He couldn't stop but smirk at the recent memory. "Fuck the gods, Erf? How ambitious of you." He snickered.

The deck was gone and sounds were back. Albin got up and headed in the opposite direction, leaving some cuts for the owner on the table. The crowd spread apart to give him passage. Fearful of his status and the tail swinging back and forth in a bout of frustration.

Except for one rushing wer.

The tail swung like a whip, hitting the wercat on the shins and easily dropping him into the ground.

“Watch where you are going!” He snarled back without stopping as the grimacing wer tried to crawl away.

Yes. A lot of work, and there were annoyances all around him already.