Shahin Esca Yusuf-ja

“You know where.” She placed a satchel into the tiny hands.

The urchin nodded and stormed off, tightly clutching the parcel. The streets of Samat had plenty of desperate children. Constant hunger made them willing to work without asking too many questions or getting too curious for their own good.

Shahin preferred to employ children. Their ploys were simplistic and could be easily countered. On the other hand, they were quite malleable — like clean wax tablets, untouched by a stylus. And, if they posed too much trouble, they could be discarded.

They were useful exactly because there were plenty of them. Easy to lose sight of one in the sea of many.

Despite her somewhat clandestine task, Shahin did not worry about getting found out. Yeva was not as sneaky as she thought herself to be. The willingness to leave strands of loose knowledge was obvious: they wanted Shahin to spy and relay it all to her clan.

And that was frustrating.

She knew that this could have posed another opportunity otherwise. By blatantly agreeing to be spied on they revealed a weakness — they needed Esca to be awed with their discoveries. They needed their entire delegation solidly on their side once the Feast started.

Her scales scraped on the walkstones. Shahin was an envoy and she would have been a bad one if she could not tease out the reason: Anaise Hilal wanted in.

A Lady of the Pillar House wanted to join a murk sadaq.

Granted, this was the daimon she was trying to catch, but Emanai would not be that understanding. Especially if the refusal to understand might free the daimon from her clutches. Unfortunately for Esca, they did not have enough power here to lay claim to him. Her previous attempts had failed and all they were left with at the moment was to either pick a side or step away from the conflict altogether.

For Shahin, the choice was obvious. Amanzhan’s faction was not a threat to them to the level of Aikerim. She could try to gouge the prices, but Amanzhan Irada was still reliant on them for their product. Aikerim Adal was not.

Worst of all, Yeva was already using it as a means of leverage. His murk wife that still held a grudge against her was encouraging Shahin to poke her tongue out and taste the secrets in the air. She was willing to risk that knowledge just to keep Shahin aware of where her path should go. The knowledge that her sisters would gladly kill for. The knowledge that she tried to kill for.

And that was what made it so frustrating to her. Shahin knew the plot. She knew the actors. And she could not do anything but play the dice that were given to her.

Yeva was young and naive, but she was not a child from the streets. Not anymore. Yeva walked into this game carrying the best dice and pouches full of gold cuts that she was allowed to spend as she saw fit. To play and to learn while playing. And she was growing extremely quickly and picking the lessons up like a thirsty camel drinking water. If Shahin had spotted such talent among her clan she would have nurtured it just to get an exceptional protege herself. Alas, she was teaching the one beholden to Erf.

But Shahin would still play this game, with the loaded dice that she was given and the bare scraps in her pouch. And she would milk it for as much as she could before real players walked in. Yeva would grow tremendously in the process but Shahin would slither away with pockets full of gold.

That satchel didn’t just have secret mixtures within. Shahin also sent copious notes on the possible reagents and even shards from pottery kilns that she managed to pick up. She had enough control over her tail so that certain ‘pebbles’ would accidentally wedge themselves between her scales as she moved.

In the future, she could even pick up some talents for herself. Erf had a penchant for finding rich oases in the vast sands of the desert.

Shahin froze.

Or, maybe he did not. Find them, that is.

Anaise was not trying to claim him so desperately just because he was a daimon. She craved something more, something that would benefit her directly. Something that could not be shared as easily as knowledge.

Shahin made sure to learn about her surroundings as best as she could. A blind murk slave, suited only for the simplest manual labours or music, became an alchemist in a matter of days and kept growing ever since. A wer taskmaster, content with her status in the Manor, developed an aptitude for magic and set her sights on the rank of a wermage.

Her eyes narrowed. The Lady of the House, young and without any noteworthy achievements under her name, became the youngest student of Virnan Shah. An event that caused a cascade of celebrations within the Kiymetl Manor.

Erf was not just a force. He was a force multiplier.

He might not have Spark himself but he could do something else. Something that made him strong. More importantly, something that empowered others around him. Judging by Anaise’s desperation — a lot stronger.

Shahin licked her lips. If a murk got as strong as a wer, and a wer got magic of a wermage…what would it do to a wermage? And was she willing to risk it all and claim at least some of what Anaise was so desperately trying to get?

Her tongue stilled as her eyes grew wide.

“He did not!” Shahin hissed and sped off into the estate.

 

 

Irje

She sighed. “I need to see the seal first.”

There was a time when Irje encouraged Erf to give her the reins to soap manufacturing. Like all slaves that had the drive and means to reach her level, she wanted to continue stepping forward. For her, it meant getting a more prestigious position in the slave hierarchy.

“Well, I don’t have it on me!” The cranky wermage swished her tail in derision.

Now, she oversaw the entire estate.

“Well, go and get it, then.” Irje unceremoniously brushed her away.

Now, she could tell the lower-ranking wermages of this Manor where they could go and get stuffed. And that was already becoming a chore to her.

“Do you think that since you are allowed to lick the Lady’s cunt you are the most important person here?” the fox in front of her hissed. By the looks of her — Aikerim’s extended family. By her position, and the fact that she was sent to pick up the new plates for the Feast — a very extended family. “Know your place, puss!”

Irje rolled her eyes. Few already knew about her magic, even in the Manor. At the same time, her current status started to annoy some of them. This werfox, definitely — she arrived with an annoyed face and further issues didn’t help with her mood.

“You can yip as long as you want, you won’t get the crates without the seal.”

This Feast hadn’t even started yet and it was already making Irje annoyed. She was eager to continue training with her own style of magic rather than making sure each gift was accounted for and all materials were ready for the celebration. Or at least join Erf and Anaise — she saw the Lady’s attendants pass by but hadn’t seen the two yet. Irje could put two and two together.

No, she wanted to train more. It wasn’t as boring as werbow drills and she could see it in action every time she worked with it. And Irje could vividly remember the look of shock and desire in the eyes of Anaise when the wermage saw her use it for the first time.

Irje didn’t want to be one of many. Even if the many were wermages. She didn’t want to be one in a hundred, shooting an army-issued werbow.

She couldn’t help but pout. A personal Flow oar would be nice. A sign of a war mage: one whose control over Flow is so strong that she could use actual spells for an extended time in battle.

“Ignore me, will you?” the wermage seethed and extended her arm.

A force pushed at her, and Irje slammed into a wall with a loud thud. Shocked silent at the sheer audacity of the wermage.

“You will have your seal after I complete my task, puss. I am not walking back empty-handed with a headache just because you tried to flex the meagre authority you’ve been given!” the whats-her-name proclaimed as she lifted a crate with blue porcelain inside.

Irje growled and reached out with her Flow in turn. Anaise forbade using it on her but she never said not to use it on others.

The werfox grunted as Irje’s magical hand wrapped around the crate, stopping it mid-flight. The cougar pushed in as much as she knew, causing the wermage to gasp and then scream in distress.

“What are you!?”

“I am Irje, first of my kind,” Irje hissed as she wrenched the crate into her own control. “And this is my estate you tread upon! And these crates hold the things that Domina herself considers the secrets of Kiymetl!”

“Mercy! I didn’t know!” the wermage pleaded as the sweat beaded on her face. Whatever her magic did, it was quite uncomfortable.

“Yes, you did not. Because it was not for you to know. You were supposed to bring a seal and deliver a crate, not perform a tyrant act.”

“I will bring the seal! Please, just stop this!”

“Drop your magic first,” Irje spoke and felt the weight shift. She immediately lunged forward to catch the falling crate.

“I…I thought you were a wer…” the wermage stammered.

The cougar carefully put the container down. That was the one problem she was still trying to master: while her magic could disrupt spells, it was still too weak to hold things without proper runes. She could lift small things and trip and drag certain individuals, but holding a moderately heavy load in the air was still beyond her.

“So you only seek apology because I am a wermage?” Irje raised her eyebrow. “Do you have any idea what would have happened if I was a wer? You might’ve earned a moment of satisfaction but I would’ve found you later. Together with Domina, who would be mighty curious why.”

“S-surely she wouldn’t. She is too busy.”

“You still question my words? She would! Despite the fact that she is busy! Do you wish to find out? I can send a messenger right now informing Domina that someone is trying to take her prized possessions that she is about to present to her most dear and valuable guests.”

“Anything but that!”

“Then scamper off! Come back with a seal and a proper apology and I might reconsider informing Aikerim Adal about your action! Get!”

The werfox bolted and Irje sighed again. Gods above, this was like dealing with rowdy slaves. She closed the door and returned to her previous task of tallying resources.

Her meticulous counting was occasionally interrupted by doodles about how her own Flow oar would look like.

It would be light yellow, just like her hair.

XXX

I sneaked through my estate, carefully clutching a pouch in my hands. Anaise wanted to keep me close, but the Feast preparations pulled her away, giving me a moment to myself. A perfect time to continue tinkering with the lithoscanner, categorise the steel samples, and provide Isra’s previous hands-on knowledge with some precise data.

Despite its questionable operation, the pattern was starting to become clear: it outright refused to work in the presence of actively-magical things. Runes didn’t affect it, but wer and wermages did. More importantly — it also didn’t like the alien sapling that I asked to grow for research.

Was I really surprised? No. The Creatures were ill-renown for their magical capabilities and books spoke about Forest glow that murks couldn’t see. But what made me curious was that every ‘alien’ life-form that I knew about was magical. At the same time, the only Terran species that wielded magic were humans.

There were no magic cows, foxes, or snakes. There were no magical apple trees, despite common murk beliefs. Nor had I heard about any magical mosquitoes. Perhaps for the best. The jury was still out on magical bacteria but chances were slim.

Were human hybrids the only survivors of the magical transformation? Or was this a result of some experiment by a mad scientist? A mad engineer, to be precise. But even then, one doesn't simply start with humans — there should be at least some magical lab mice around if that was the case!

Looking at the bright side — it did result in a lot of dead magic zones even in the middle of my estate, perfect to work on the lithoscanner.

Until Yeva intercepted me and handed over the Good Stuff. The lithoscanner would wait until tomorrow.

Triple-checking that no one was paying attention, I entered my alchemical lab and quickly started to assemble the necessary gear. I didn’t need much: a small source of heat, some sand as a medium, and a container to hold it all together.

And water. Clean, fresh water.

I grinned and rubbed my hands in anticipation. I knew that this wasn’t critical, but the Feast was going to start in a few hours and I needed to be at my best. Even if it meant that I had to postpone other projects that were unlikely to yield any immediate results.

The gifts were ready anyway. Tables would be laden with porcelain, glass, and gold, while guests would receive a plethora of trinkets to take home. A multitude of things like rings and tori, wrapped in handkerchiefs. All in shades of blue, or Arksite as they called it.

From my perspective, these were baubles for children. From Aikerim’s — these were luxurious gifts that would cast waves across Samat about Kiymetl’s generosity.

It felt like buying gold and gemstones with handfuls of glass beads.

The door slammed open.

“Erf!” Shahin screamed. “Since when do you have kava!?”

I screamed in turn and almost dropped the hot cezve out of my hands. Luckily, it was still buried in the hot sand so the simmering coffee didn’t spill. Of all the people to surprise me, I did not expect it to be the local lamia. Without her customary veil on her face, too. I haven’t seen her face in full ever since that meeting in the ‘sauna’.

“What happened to knocking first!? This is my private lab, do you wish to be sent back to the kilns!? Or straight to Aikerim Adal?”

“You were not working on any secrets-s!” Shahin licked her lips. “I can taste it in the air. How did you manage to get any beans in Samat? I have been searching the markets for days!”

“Well, it is my secret!” I cradled the black liquid in my hands, possessively turning away from the intruder. “Now, shoo! I am trying to enjoy the moment here!”

“You can not do that!” Shahin gasped. “Do you not have any laws of hospitality where you come from? A guest in our lands would always be welcome to the table and the drinks on it!”

“A guest. You aren’t.”

“I am already paying penance for my actions!” Shahin gestured at the rows of glassware. “Half of these were made by my hands, just the way you wanted them. For some, I even had to resort to magic just to melt and shape the glass just right. I teach your wife the skills that I worked hard to acquire through decades of trial and error. The skills that currently help you to reconcile with your family!

“Nor did I complain when you and Isra Haleh burnt all the fuel in the estate, even if it meant that I had to search for scraps to keep my nights warm.” She slumped in front of me, “What more do you want?”

I huffed. Shahin looked too pitiful. She could be acting, but it was impossible to tell.

But, she wasn’t asking for much either. And we did burn through everything just to keep the blast furnace working for as long as we could — these things weren’t exactly designed to shut down on a daily basis.

“Why didn’t you bring some with you, if you crave it this much?” I grumbled, looking for the second cup.

“I did.” The lamia sighed. “But Esca does not grow kava beans herself. And I did not expect to stay here for this long. If an envoy sets off for such a task, they either come home successful, or dead.”

“And how often do wermage envoys die while looking for murk artisans?” I poured some coffee into a cup and passed it to her.

“More often than you think, at least. Just as with you, there are often powerful Manors that either shelter runaways or were the abductors themselves. And sometimes, the death is intentional.” She brought the cup to her nose, taking time to savour the aroma. “My, this is a rich smell! Whoever bought this has an eye for quality.”

Like I would need to buy coffee beans. Especially since mine were even further modified to enhance the smell and taste. If I were to succumb to my vices and grow a luxury plant, I wouldn’t waste my time on some half-measures.

“Intentional?”

The yellow-in-black eyes glanced at me. “Sometimes the death of a wermage is necessary to rouse sufficient outrage and give more leverage to Esca.”

I raised my eyebrows, “You are telling me this right before the Esca delegation walks into the Feast? Should I be worried that there will be bodies lying around by the end of the day?”

Shahin scoffed lightly. “Please, do not spoil my drink. Aikerim Adal would not budge. We both know that, and I made sure that Amir Shirvan-ja knows it too.”

She stopped and took her first sip. The house rumbled as her tail shivered. “So strong!”

I took my own, savouring the black warmth as it sped through my body, basking in the soft jolt of vigour that was brought with it. Nanites could keep me awake and highly responsive but coffee hit my brain just right.

Shahin sat here in a daze with a smile on her open face, nursing her cup. Despite talking about the price for her life mere seconds ago.

“Your cavalier attitude about life is rather surprising, I admit. Do all of Esca share such an attitude?”

After all, I was going to meet this Amir sooner or later and it was the first time that Shahin was this open about her family.

“Yusuf is surrounded by sands, Erf.” She took another sip and sighed. “We might not have the Forest at our borders, but we do not have much of anything else either. Most of our wealth comes from trade and glass and it is used often to support our harvests. What is the life of one, if it ensures the survival of many?”

“Seek other means to wealth that would lessen the importance of glass.”

“Ah, yes. The other means.” Shahin rolled her eyes, “Instead of sailing so far from home, I should have gone to the other means merchant that sells other means scrolls. How silly of me.”

I shut up, I had an encyclopedia of human knowledge in my mind. They did not.

She finished her coffee and put the cup aside. “I know what Aikerim Adal wants. But tell me, Erf: what do you want from my clan? What future do you see between you and my sisters?”

“Er, sisters? You don’t care about your brothers?”

“For all your smarts…” Shahin sighed. “Emanai should not be this backward, pick up a codex once in a while where authors speak of other lands. Lamuras do not have males.”

I almost choked on my coffee. “You what!? Like parthenogenesis? But how!? The genetic imprinting alone…Mammals can’t do that! Not artificially, that is!”

“Partheno-…what?” She frowned. “What is a ‘mammal’?”

I coughed and cupped the imaginary breasts on my chest. “Animals that feed their young with milk. Cows, horses… murks, wer… wermages.”

The lamia crossed her arms, her eyes narrow. “Am I an animal, then? What about daimonas?”

“Status means nothing to life. We all are animals, small or big. Unless there are wermage plants? Or worse, fungi?” I ignored her accusation as my brain tried to run through all the different possibilities of how something like this was possible. And how deep the genetic modification went.

This wasn’t just some addition of a new gene or two, this was a restructuring of the process that controlled these genes.

“Fungi?”

“Mushrooms. If you think male and female is a great variety, they can have more. A lot more.”

“More of that daimon talk, I guess. Read more codices, Erf: Lamuras are only female, but we are not the only wermages in Yusuf.”

“Ah?…” I scratched my head. “That does make sense, and it is way easier too. Erm, I don’t really have any plans for Esca. While I do detest the slavery system that is rampant in Emanai and everywhere else, most likely, I understand that I can’t demand them to just stop. Even forcing them wouldn’t work well — Emanai would likely starve and collapse if the process is too quick. I need to provide other means first.”

Shahin slithered closer. “Like your pottery? I have noticed that Keivan barely needs any help with his craft.”

“Pottery, soaps, glass. What I make is not as important, what matters is how it is made and who makes it. Look at the servants that help you at the kilns — are they menial slaves that could be easily replaced? Or are they artisans that perform a skilled task and should be well compensated for it?”

“Slaves into apprentices…” Shahin mused. “Daimon, you are empowering them.”

I shrugged, unfazed by the title. “Absolutely. I do not need to keep others below me just to be on top. I am the Navigator, my life’s calling is to steer and guide.”

“And how much would it cost?” Shahin whispered. “To hire you?”

“I am already teaching you the secrets of glass.”

“Not me. Esca. How much would it cost for you to give us other means? Not Aikerim Adal, or the rest of Kiymetl. You.”

 

 

Aidar Kiymetl Daniar

 

“Did you hear her scream?” Amalric harshly whispered to his brother. “I am telling you, we need to do something about this.”

Aidar said nothing as he watched Salamat Kiymetl hastily retreat from Anaise’s estate. Bested by Irje, apparently. He knew the slave in question — the wer had been around this Manor ever since Matriarch proclaimed his mother as Domina. Unfortunately, he didn’t know much else. She was one of many wer that they had and her kind was extremely common across Emanai. Wercat tribes lived somewhere to the east, past the Babr mountains and would often ambush and attack Emanai arms.

Emanai would answer in turn. Aidar had been on multiple campaigns that crossed the Forest and struck at their campgrounds. Each one brought plenty of fresh slaves for Emanai. Each one had hundreds that looked like her.

The past was past and there was no need to waste the present on it. He didn’t know how strong she was before but she wasn’t this strong. Spark within Salamat was dim but she could move Flow as all wermages could and that ability had granted her a certain pride in herself. To see her running in disgrace meant that Irje managed to decisively prove her strength.

“Mother is calling her a wermage, but I know this is nothing but a ruse! A wer that dared to raise a hand at a wermage deserves to be punished!”

Aidar rolled his eyes and slapped his brother across the face. “Enough of your prattle. If a wermage allowed herself to be bested by a wer, it is the folly of that wermage. Tell me this, instead — how much do you know of this Irje?”

Amalric shook his head and spit the blood out. “She is a wer and a dim one at that. A pair of ears and a jest for Spark. Doesn’t even have a tail.”

Aidar harrumphed. “I have eyes too, brother. So you didn’t see her using this strength. Was she hiding her skills? Or is this some sudden growth?”

He scratched his stubble, deep in thought. Anaise would’ve explained it all but she was surprisingly tight-lipped as of late.

And he was still curious.

It was too bad that the blind girl was beginning to notice his presence, Aidar had to keep a longer and longer distance from the estate.

“This is all caused by that Alchemist. A few words, maybe a love potion and even our mother listens to him!”

“Hah! A murk alchemist crafting love potions! Tell me another tale, brother. But you are correct that this Alchemist is in the centre of everything.”

Aidar thought for a moment then nodded.

“I want to meet Salamat after the Feast. She could tell us much.”