Aikerim Kiymetl Adal

 

 

The Kiymetl Matriarch snapped her fan closed and beckoned for her to listen. “The year has already been uncomfortably eventful and yet the new events do not intend to cease. Tell me, daughter, do you see what I see?”

Aikerim followed her mother’s gaze and saw yet another procession of litters surrounded by servants. This group was much larger than the Kiymetl one, but the Houses of War often arrived together exactly for this reason. Their size reminded other Manors at the Summit about the power and influence of the three-headed wolf of Emanai. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted a litter that was rarely seen in Samat. “Roxanna Kosenya Inayat is here.”

“Precisely. The pregnant Kosenya Matriarch travelled all the way from Uureg to be here in person. Judging by the thickness of her litter curtains, she hasn’t given birth either.” Nanaya emptied the ashes from her pipe but kept twirling it in her fingers. The tendrils of black wood that Aikerim gifted her slithered from her sleeve and weaved into an intricate lace on her hand. “What is the news from the north?”

“The barbarians are sieging Bayan Gol, but they won’t be moving further into our territory this season. Their horde is decent in size but it is too light for our Border Wall. My daughter is faring quite well — I hear that she was promoted to chariots after the first battle.”

Amanzhan, whose litter was moving on their mother’s other side, frowned. “That wouldn’t be enough to bring her here in her current state.”

“Indeed it wasn’t,” Nanaya agreed. “Nor does Roshanak Gulnaz hold enough power among the three Matriarchs of War to personally summon her without reason. Either something is happening within their Houses that would require all three Matriarchs to meet in person, or…”

“Or the Shebet summons to this Summit were… insistent,” Aikerim completed her mother’s thought and sighed. “And for them to insist on all Pillar Matriarchs attending means the Summit wouldn’t be the usual one. By the three horns, even a declaration of war could be done with just her Speaker being present.”

She paused and glanced at the litters again. “The Kamshad Matriarch appears agitated to my eyes.”

Her elder sister huffed. “She is flanked by the Kishava Matriarch who is richer than her and the Kosenya Matriarch, the renowned shield of Emanai. While her House is the eldest among the three, the Kamshad Matriarch is the youngest. While I commend your perception, noticing what many do not, your insight on Matriarchs of Emanai is still lacking.”

Nanaya hummed. “Indeed. Roshanak Gulnaz does not like to be overshadowed by the other two just as she is eager to leave her mark in the House records. You have experienced that eagerness firsthand, my daughter.”

Aikerim made a silent nod, acknowledging her mother’s words.

“Nevertheless, her current appearance can tell us much of what is likely and what isn’t…” Matriarch tapped her lips with her folded fan and beckoned Aikerim again. “You weren’t dragging your tail when it came to your offerings, Aikerim? The ones that were asked of you by the Goddess herself?”

“Each one of her commands was met not once but twice,” Aikerim confirmed. “Apart from Anaise bringing her firstborn to the throne of our Goddess. I am sure that she will be a filial daughter and present twins to her once her time comes.”

The Matriarch raised her hand while offering Aikerim a nod of approval. “Very well, let us put this aside for now — the Kosenya Matriarch has decided to approach us.”

Both she and Amanzhan glanced at the approaching litter and Aikerim quickly gestured for her servants to make space. She was Domina in her Manor but here she was a daughter of the Matriarch and, once the litter emblazoned with golden shield-bearing dogs reached their procession, she would be a near-silent witness. Aikerim offered appropriate greetings along with wishes of well-being and leaned back as the two Pillar Matriarchs who did not reside in Samat quickly found a common ground for gossip. She was familiar with the dance and immediately recognised the Kosenya Matriarch testing the waters with her small talk.

And yet, Aikerim was surprised to discover that she wasn’t concerned about it as much as her mother. If the Goddess was displeased with her actions — past, present, or future — Aikerim would’ve felt her displeasure back in the Divine Castle. If this was one of Roshanak Gulnaz’s new ploys, the Kamshad Matriarch would regret dragging her tail with their meeting, for Aikerim not only possessed the ‘daimonic’ secrets, she knew about their weaknesses, and had Yeva by her side with a hundred tricks and secrets more.

The Summit might be about something else entirely. She just had to wait and see.

“I admit there was another reason for my arrival.” The voice of the Kosenya Matriarch pulled Aikerim’s gaze from the centre of the plaza where the Shebet were talking to the priestesses of Emanai. “I wanted to offer my gratitude for your daughter’s gift.”

Roxanna Inayat opened the litter curtain and Aikerim could see Roxanna Inayat up close. She was indeed still happily pregnant as the twinned Sparks left little to doubt. Her palm gently rubbed her large belly. “I admit I haven’t had the chance to wear it myself but my smiths and guardmasters were quite impressed, begrudgingly so. I had to fight one of them with a stick, lest he take it apart completely!”

Aikerim shared a chuckle but quickly put on a mask of concern. “It is unfortunate that the news didn’t travel fast enough. If I knew that you were blessed with a child, I would’ve sent a more appropriate gift for the occasion.”

Roxanna shook her head with a smile, “Look at the common Dominas and Matriarchs listlessly gathering around the plaza, clucking like chickens. All because the old me decided to visit my relatives in the south. Imagine the panic if I were to enter on a chariot with plates of steel around my pregnant womb?”

Aikerim chose not to. Just as it was customary with Flow, it took power only to give it back tenfold — the early pregnancy left wermages vulnerable and weak but, once the second Spark quickened, the mother-to-be was blessed with an immense boost to her powers. Until the birth of her child, the Kosenya Matriarch was possibly the strongest wermage in Samat. For her to appear here in a warrior garb would undoubtedly cause an even greater stir amongst the Pillar Houses, let alone an uproar of the commons.

“It would be impudent of me to think someone of your status would ever need that type of armour. But my Manor was blessed with two Alchemists, not one. While the first chose to accompany my daughter north, the latter stayed behind.” The Matriarch’s ears twitched ever so slightly but Aikerim was quick to notice for she was expecting it. Both her mother and the Enoch Matriarch were aware of Yeva being something more than Erf’s wife, so other Houses would learn about it eventually. By revealing it now, Aikerim could control how that knowledge was received. “Could you imagine my surprise when her knowledge of alchemical steelmaking was matched by her healer skills!? Perhaps I should cease my meagre attempts at armour-making and consider selling concoctions that fill breasts with milk in a heartbeat. I went to see her delivering a child once and almost missed everything because my eyes wanted to blink!”

It was Roxanna’s turn to chuckle politely. “I hope she isn’t too eager — while some mothers can’t stand the pain, a safe delivery is more important than a quick one.”

Aikerim pressed a finger to her lips as if she was deep in thought. “She wasn’t pulling. From what I could tell as a mother of three myself — through her ointments and massages, she coaxed the mother to push harder without tensing. Considering that the Alchemist had also breathed life back into children standing at death’s door, the only worry that mother had was how to properly thank my healer.”

Roxanna watched her silently for a moment, breaking the dance, and sniffed the air. “Do I smell one of her concoctions on you, perhaps?”

Blinking from a sudden question she hadn’t anticipated, Aikerim followed the Matriarch’s gaze to one of her belt pouches. “…You could say that, yes. It isn’t a tincture, however, but a pouch of sweets.” Aikerim noticed the scandalised look on her mother’s face and coughed. “They nourish the mind and keep thoughts swift and agile, apart from being mere sweets. Or so my Alchemist says.”

“Well, consider me intrigued after the tale you’ve weaved. Would you indulge my curiosity further, for I assume your Alchemist isn’t present?”

“Certainly.” Aikerim opened her pouch and retrieved the ‘chocolates’ wrapped in paper. She took one for herself to mollify Kosenya servants anxiously watching their Matriarch and presented the rest to Roxanna Inayat. As a mother of three children, Aikerim was familiar with that look and the urge that came with it. Her husbands knew quite well not to stand between her and her dried dates whenever she was pregnant herself.

“There is too much unnecessary strife among our Houses,” the Kamshad Matriarch finally spoke after she finished the last and glanced back at Aikerim. “Wouldn't you agree?”

Aikerim nodded. So the dance never ended; Roxanna simply chose to use the sweets and her cravings as a convenient excuse for her ‘defeat’. Aikerim stepping up in the ‘hour of her need’ allowed the Kosenya Matriarch to step back herself without Houses of War losing face. “It is my desire as well, for my House prospers greatly in the time of peace.”

Horns rang through the plaza, calling for the beginning of the Summit, but Roxanna didn’t leave. Instead, she ordered her servants to place her litter on a pedestal nearby. Right beside the pedestal that her mother took for herself. Aikerim shared a glance with her family and moved her litter to the side, allowing Amanzhan to claim the other spot by their mother while she could continue conversing with the Kosenya Matriarch.

“Your daughter has the most unique sadaq,” Roxanna murmured as the servants stepped away from the litters. It took some time for the public Summit to start in earnest and conversations often continued through the opening chants. With the obvious help of silence runes — while hushed talks were expected if not encouraged through the Summit, interrupting priestesses was out of the question. “Although your revelations shed some light on it. I can see now that Muramat Kamshad Nishad would be quite… inconvenient for that sadaq. While I have a daughter looking for a first husband… and a child yet to be born.”

Aikerim glanced at her belly. The Spark was bright and the child would be a strong one. “A marriage now for a marriage later?”

“Nothing so binding, Aikerim Adal. I am certain that your daughter will be pregnant in a matter of years. And marriage proposals will follow as soon as the child is born. My wish is that you keep the proposal of our House in a higher regard.”

Aikerim smiled to herself. What a woman! Roxanna Inayat was certainly aware that the Muramat affair was like a galley stuck at sea without oars, either through Anaise’s recent accomplishments or the dubious actions of Muramat himself. By ‘demanding’ him for her daughter, the Kosenya Matriarch would claim a male of good breeding, avoid the uncomfortable backtracking for Kamshad, and solidify prospects for yet another child of hers. Aikerim was certain now that the Houses of War had no knowledge about the scope of this Summit either. But there was no time to use this information, and greed had merits only when it was tempered with wisdom.

“As you are the first to offer such a proposal, it would be rude of me not to. The current times are quite tumultuous and there is wisdom in waiting out the storms before sending galleys to sea. And the next generation can grow up together, making any future unions quite harmonious. Would you satisfy my curiosity as well? You know her first husband has no Spark — aren’t you afraid to tie your child to his progeny?”

Now that someone like Roxanna Inayat was showing interest, Aikerim could not leave it aside. The Goddess saw what others couldn’t so questioning her motive was a foolish task, but the Matriarch in front of her relied on mundane knowledge to make her choices.

Roxanna chuckled. “Do you think it is that hard to notice? You refused the Kamshad offer of alliance because the offer was made with Muramat Nishad. Not only were you uninterested in his seed for your daughter, but you were willing to sour relations with the House of Offence by doing so. The sadaq is quite peculiar as well. Anaise Hilal has a wermage wife with a considerable bust and another that could make those breasts full with milk at a moment’s notice. A freed wermage slave of all things, and a loyal one at that. I would not be surprised if she becomes her wet nurse. The husband is a tale of his own and holds a most peculiar court of friends. No, Aikerim Kiymetl Adal, I do not think that your daughter will lack a potent seed.”

Aikerim blinked. It was easy to dismiss some of her reasoning as baseless conjectures, but could she? Erf was weaving an intricate web of machinery and knowledge; specifically tailored for her Manor with Yeva’s admission. Was he doing something similar for her daughter? She knew that his choice to delay children was deliberate, and effective since Anaise had been sneaking out of his bedchamber with a kink in her tail yet remained without a child, but was he simply waiting for a more opportune time or was he moving pieces in a game of chatrang that was the fate of Anaise’s future child? She would need to make inquiries.

“Children of Emanai!” the head priestess yelled across the plaza. “Hear the words of your Goddess!”

An enormous scroll coalesced into her hands and immediately started to unravel. Vines of living fire slithered through the parchment, leaving burning words in their wake.

Aikerim felt the cold sweat on her back as she watched the letters appear.

“…Manorat grows every day and each House grows with it…”

Her hand gripped the litter as she ignored the nearby glances. If this was what she thought it was, she would kill Erf! And then she would kill Albin! Only those two could play such a joke on her.

“…another House was deemed worthy to join the ranks of the Seven…”

She told him to simply step on Albin’s tail and obtain the mine permit, not turn her Manor into a House of Mines! Pillar or not. Aikerim glanced around. Her mother met her with a questioning eyebrow, to which Aikerim gently shook her head. The Kosenya Matriarch remained still as she peered into the unrolling scroll and tried to read ahead just as Aikerim was doing. The Kamshad Matriarch looked like she drank a mouthful of vinegar. The other Pillars were shooting her occasional glances as well.

“…for no one else could care for the fruits of the earth as well as the House of Gabal!”

Aikerim stilled for a heartbeat — just as many others had done, judging by the sudden silence across the plaza — and slowly turned her head toward the litter beside the Samat Matriarch where the wergoat Matriarch was choking on her wine. Poor woman; Aikerim had reasons to believe it would be her and years of education if she were to take the title of her mother as the Pillar Matriarch, and yet she wasn’t ready to be proclaimed as one right now. The Gabal Matriarch stood no chance.

“That is a subordinate House of Samat,” Amanzhan murmured. “Despite holding lands far from the capital, they still hold their ancestral House in great regard.”

She glanced at Aikerim. “And Samat isn’t willing to let go of old grudges, so that is yet another vote against ours at the Summit.”

“Don’t be quick to think rashly, elder sister. The votes were not in our favour from the beginning so our position remains unchanged.” Aikerim shifted her eyes to a silent Roxanna. “It appears that the Goddess desires to keep at least three factions among the Pillars.”

The Kosenya Matriarch sighed. “If that is the will of the Goddess, so be it. I am happy to see that you took the news well — many were expecting you to be named as the eighth Pillar. And many will have similar thoughts to those of Amanzhan Irada. For them, it is not Samat who was blessed by the Divine Will but Aikerim Adal who was scorned by the Goddess.”

“I do not have the men to guard nor women to govern all the mines of Emanai. Nor do I want to — my interest lies in having my needs met in a time that is convenient to me. Whether my Manor provides for me directly or I purchase them from others is irrelevant.” Aikerim raised her hand and moulded Flow into a roaring flame. “I am also a proud daughter of Kiymetl. I don’t need another Pillar, for I belong to one already.”

Other Dominas and Matriarchs brought up their flames, showing the new Pillar Matriarch that they heard the Divine Decree. Shaping Flow into the light of recognition.

“It is not the ore that you seek, but the gold your masters turn it into.” Roxanna nodded in understanding but her eyes remained sharp. “Then you will need stability more than ever. Especially now when most of the ore production would be plunged in turmoil.”

“Indeed. I do have hopes for the Shebet, however — I do not think they will transfer the entirety of Emanai mines as soon as possible, but allow some time for the new Pillar House to grow into their duty. If not, the Kiymetl still have a handful of private mines in our possession, even if they are somewhat far away from here and significantly less developed.” Aikerim smiled at her. “This outcome isn’t any worse than some of my other predictions. Your cousin is a powerful Matriarch, there is no question about it; rather than fruitlessly struggle against her for the closest mine, I’ve made other arrangements.”

“Both tempered and resolute!” Roxanna Inayat chuckled and turned back to the Kiymetl Matriarch. “You have raised your daughters well, Nanaya Ayda.”

Her mother sighed. “I wish she was a bit less headstrong to calm my aching heart.”

The Kosenya Matriarch nodded. “I came to Samat with the intent to calm the waters between our Houses. Especially in light of the recent event — we both know that this decree wasn’t about the House of Samat or their branch House, the Goddess has ended the brewing struggle between the Manor of Aikerim Adal and the Manor of Roshanak Gulnaz. A warning for us all. And I prefer not to know whether her next involvement in earthly affairs would be just as benevolent.”

The Kiymetl Matriarch lit her pipe. “You have a proposal in mind?”

“An alliance of convenience. I am certain that an agreement among our Houses is inevitable, but I will do my duty to ensure that no rash decisions are made until it is reached.”

“A balancing force, that is a generous offer.”

Roxanna smiled. “I did say that my guardmasters were impressed.”

Her mother glanced at her. “Aikerim?”

Aikerim put her tail in her hands. “Can I assume that you came to Samat with two, maybe three hundred of your servants, guards, and attendants?” Seeing the Kosenya Matriarch nod, she smiled. “You will have three hundred armours of similar quality before winter comes in full.”

She leisurely combed her tail as Roxanna Inayat struggled to keep a placid expression on her face.

Welcome to my Manor, Shield of Emanai.

 

XXX

 

“Really, Albin? Issuing monopolies!? Why? Why now?”

He shrugged. “I think you know why.”

Without stopping my grumbling, I continued to insert my artefacts into a silk sash that Yeva made for me. The connection we shared through Chirp allowed her to glimpse at my desires and make appropriate conclusions. She didn’t know about the artefacts themselves or where I obtained them, but she knew I needed to organise eighty-eight identical pieces into a very obvious arrangement. There was no need to guess what would be their purpose.

So I was slowly becoming the first and only owner of a flexible magical piano that I could quickly roll into a bundle and take whenever I wanted. A joyous occasion if not for Albin spoiling my mood.

“So all mines belong to the Gabal now? Who are they, anyway?”

“A branch House of Samat. And no — they are not taking the direct possessions of other Manors, only the mines that are governed by Shebet or rented out. Once their rent expires, that is. The will of the Goddess is to redistribute power, not to upend Emanai as a whole.”

“Let me guess, the tin mines of Bayan Gol are owned by the Kamshad? Are you relinquishing gold, silver, and copper mines to them as well?”

He watched me as he shuffled his deck of cards. “Shebet owns those mines directly, as we mint the cuts from them for the benefit of Emanai. Money is a fickle thing and significant efforts are required to keep prices in check.”

I ran my fingers across every key, making sure that none of them were off. “What about establishing new mines?”

“That would befall under the purview of the new Pillar Manor, yes. What irks you so? Are you afraid that Gabal won’t trade with Aikerim because Samat is still angry at her?”

I paused for a moment and sighed. “It is not the redistribution of power that frustrates me. The goddess is upholding the status quo that lasted for centuries and brought peace and prosperity to Emanai. I get that. I knew there would be a response to Aikerim Adal’s growth but I was expecting competition, growth, and adaptation — not a divinely mandated monopoly. Once Gabal becomes efficient enough, there will be no inherent reason for them to improve further. And your mines will remain atrocious.”

“What do you think of this war, Erf.”

“I would call it a raid rather than a war.”

“The attacks have been growing for decades. And I have reasons to believe that this won’t be the largest. Compared to Emanai where most are farmers and labourers, every adult nomad is a warrior and you saw how large the plains of Barsashahr are. They grow up in a saddle herding their cattle, with a bow in their hands to hunt their prey. They have others that pay them tribute with goods and soldiers. The priestesses of Emanai repeat the words of the goddess, warning about troubles ahead.”

My fingers touched the keys again, drawing a melody of the distant past. “So the goddess set her eyes outward, prioritising stability at home to counteract the uncertainty of foreign relations.”

“She is choosing a path that will keep her and her country triumphant, Erf. Not just in the nearest decade but centuries and millennia afterwards. Can you say with absolute certainty that your path will keep Emanai safe and prosperous that far ahead? Or, more importantly, can you say with absolute certainty that it can withstand the plots and schemes of other gods?”

“Do I look like a cheating wermage?”

Albin chuckled and took a more comfortable position to listen. “Need I remind you that Aikerim Adal only grew her number of slaves since your appearance in her Manor? Or that you have acquired hundreds of them for yourself, despite professing your distaste for the practice?”

“They are slaves in name only.”

“Within Aikerim’s Manor, yes. The current situation is in no way different.”

I glanced at him. “Are you implying that I can get mines ‘in name only’?”

“Think of Emanai Manorat as one enormous Manor with a very wise and honourable Domina at the top. The stronger and more secure that Manor becomes as a whole — the more amenable the goddess would be to your other activities that disrupt the harmony between the Houses. Who knows, maybe you will earn a boon or two that would let you skip a step or two in your plans.”

I sighed and kept playing. From the Emanai point of view, ‘disruptive’ was a very mild word for my actions. While I had no intention to destroy the culture as a whole, many cornerstones of Emanai society were diametrically opposed to my morals. Even if I chose to keep looking the other way, my knowledge alone would be enough to disrupt the current society. The reason Aikerim was so unstoppable right now was that she was no longer bound by the constraints on the land. She was transitioning from an agrarian landowner into an industrial capitalist, capable of producing more profit within her walled capital Manor than the rest of her farming manors combined. While others fought bloody wars and dabbled in unscrupulous acts just to lay claim on another fertile field, Aikerim could just… build. And, eventually, so could others.

The rest of my knowledge was equally insidious in that regard. Developed in the absence of magic, it favoured the mundane by design and quickly eroded the established structures based on magical power. It demanded literate workers, machinists, and engineers rather than slaves and subsistence farmers. Mass literacy, that would eventually upend the social dynamics between the less numerous mages and more populous murks. And Emanai had to be ready for that shift or it would be plunged into decades of turmoil. And I was already trying to go at it as slowly as possible. How much wealth and prosperity could I give to Emanai if I were to introduce a couple of black crops? How much misery and grief would I cause by making two-thirds of Emanai virtually jobless overnight with that ‘gift’? While those plants were designed for engineered environments and zero gravity, the advanced carbon fixation and black melaphylls would be enough to bump the crop yields to unseen levels, even without farming machinery and fertilisers. Not to mention organic AI or any AI in general. Emanai wasn’t ready for that kind of leap in production, that kind of plummet in the value of human labour. I was certain about it because Earth wasn’t ready for it either. That was why we had the Scattering. Twice. Yet Earth back then could run not just circles around the current Emanai in terms of social security but equators.

I let the music soothe those thoughts away. This wasn’t a problem I had to tackle immediately, it just meant that I couldn’t safely turn Aikerim’s Manor into an unassailable fortress from where I would slowly spread innovation and knowledge across the lands of Emanai. Not with the goddess being this involved. Right now, my main problem was survival in the upcoming battles and the continued protection of my wives.

“Do you think the shaman would reveal something important?”

Albin smiled and inserted the card he was fiddling with back into the deck. “Probably not, Sophia knows more about the enemy horde than some enemy wermage, especially a wermage low enough to be sent as a scout. What matters is that he is missing.”

“What would happen after she is done with him? Is he-”

“Do you think I revel in needless cruelty!?” Sophia thundered as she barged in, the walls of the arusak rippled like waves as her ‘time bubble’ merged with that of her brother. “He is a barbarian wermage and a captive of war! If he won’t be ransomed by his tribe, the Kishava will pay handsomely for him.”

She threw herself onto a couch and waved at me. “Why did you stop? Keep playing… whatever you were playing.”

My fingers resumed their dance. “Chopin.”

Sophia glanced down at my ‘keyboard’ with a single eye. “You combined a hundred artefacts only to call it a chopin?”

“Oh it is not the instrument, Frederic Chopin is the author of the music I am playing.” I chuckled. “It felt quite fitting to start with the ‘God gave me eighty-’”

Her eyebrow crawled upward “A God?”

I coughed. “-‘The goddess gave me eighty-eight keys, so I will use all of them’ Chopin.”

Albin quietly snickered into his fist.

Sophia cleared her throat and looked away. “Quite impudent words, Erf… you are lucky no one can hear you here but us.”

I ignored their antics and finished the piece, for I’d thought of another. “And then, there is ‘the goddess gave me ten fingers, so I will use all of them’ Rachmaninoff.” My fingers slammed the keys, evoking deep and rich chords in striking contrast to the tinkling and rolling arpeggios I was playing before.

This time, the Chasya twins listened quietly. Partially because the previous conversation was interrupted. Partially because this form of music was quite unusual to the Emanai ear, even more so than the guitar. Yes, even kitharas could pluck entire chords at once rather than strum them consecutively as arpeggios. But Rachmaninoff, just as I’d cheekily described him, wasn’t satisfied with occasional three notes here and there. My fingers often struck six, seven, or even eight notes all at once, showing off the capabilities of my magical piano.

“H-how indecent,” Sophia murmured as she tried to untangle her twin braids, strangely coiled on her chest. “Music shouldn’t be played like that!”

“This is why I spent the time learning his music.” Albin nodded along, ignoring his sister’s flustered look. “It can affect the body beyond the pleasures of the ear, and do so without using magic.”

“It is called frisson,” I quipped.

Sophia harrumphed and tucked her braids away. “What I want to know, however, is why the two of you are eating fruits and listening to music while I had to suffer the crude curses of the barbarian!? Who is the General here?”

“I was telling him about the Summit. He started playing on his own. Who am I to stop him?”

“Yes,” Sophia’s tone was dripping in sarcasm, “who are you to stop him, brother.”

Her horns turned my way. “The copper mine is still in my possession so our agreement stands. I am certain that the wergoats of Gabal wont defy the will of the Goddess and will trade with your Manor. The price might differ but you can easily afford anything they would ask.” She paused and shivered again. “Stop playing like that!”

“It was not my intent, Sophia Chasya. I wished to play this instrument long before I had the opportunity to build it. So I am playing pieces that I find the most beautiful to myself.” My fingers froze. “Wergoats… Albin, does the House of Gabal have any connection to that seemingly innocuous conversation we had about stainless steel and goats?”

Albin blinked at me with his innocent owlish eyes of a seasoned Mephistopheles. “We had a conversation like that?”

“Because I swear if your master plan is to saddle me with twelve wermages of their House, I will gift you the rustiest set of forks and spoons you will ever see in your life. I haven’t decided where exactly I will be ‘gifting’ them into, yet.”

He grimaced. “How cruel… what is this fork you speak of?”

I rolled my eyes. “A hairpin to tuck your long braids away before eating soup. Or a skewer to hold food in place for the rest of us, plebeians.”

“But it would solve all your problems! Think about it — each one of them is yet another mine in your sash at the very least. Who knows, maybe you could even snatch the Matriarch-to-be if you hurry.”

“When is your promised date with Mushaf Davlat, Casanova?”

Albin looked away, twirling the lock of his hair. “My heart isn’t ready yet.”

Sophia groaned. “Would you two cease your squabbling? Erf, what did you do to my prisoner?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I hoped that you would tell me, actually. He tried to use his magic on me and failed in a spectacular fashion. At least I don’t think wermages fall into convulsions for trying to bewitch a murk.”

“He isn’t a witch, he is a shaman. He claims that you cursed his magic.”

Albin blinked. “Cursed? How?”

“I allowed him to wake up without shackles, with an unslaughtered bird nearby.” She looked pointedly at me. “It is quicker and easier to intercept the missive rather than torture the prisoner. Unfortunately, His magic was only capable of sending the bird into convulsive rage.”

I grimaced, so Harald’s ‘update’ did affect him.

“So? What did you do?”

“Would you believe me if I say ‘little to nothing’?” I glanced at her and sighed. “I thought so. I think he still ‘failed’ but in a different way. Rather than doing nothing at all, his magic linked to me. And he wasn’t prepared for me to… respond back? Do you think I can meet him?”

Sophia shared a look with her brother. “I will go with him.”

 

 

XXX

The prisoner looked like a rabid animal to my eyes. Sunken eyes, a scowl on his face, and a feline stare that went past me. “Brought a procurer? I knew you wouldn’t give me a clean death.”

“How did you break your magic?” I shifted to the side, letting his spit sail by.

“Who are you…” he paused for a moment, “…merk?”

“I am the one who dragged your drooling ass into this camp rather than cutting your head then and there and presenting it to my General.”

“You aren’t h-.” he stopped himself and glanced past me at Sophia. “How many freaks like him did you get by offering your women to the Forest Walkers? Mark my words, your kind will be cursed by the Go-”

“Watch your tongue, shaman.” Sophia hissed, enunciating his title. “For I am the Censor of Emanai. The voice and ears of our Goddess! Your tribe lost its luck when Trymr Rurkha followed the banners of Bragge Archomilea. He lost his life when he dared to claim what wasn’t his to take. And now, if you finish that accusation, your tribe might lose its future!”

The shaman grunted but said no more. It was quite fascinating to observe the existence of a secondary power structure that spanned beyond the nation’s borders. But then again, Barsashahr likely had another god or two, perhaps even cousins of Catriona Emanai herself so Sophia’s promise might be more than a baseless threat.

I shook my head. “Don’t needlessly assume that anything you don’t understand has to be related to Creatures. The world is full of mysteries where you can spend millennia upon millennia trying to uncover every little secret only to keep stumbling upon new unknowns… trust me on that. Or you can resort to crude insults, I am not your mother.”

“What do you want?”

I leaned in. “I want to help you, shaman.”

He barked a laugh. “And I am the mighty sheyda! Go drink some milk from your mother’s teat, she is probably looking for you already.”

I shrugged and got up. “Very well.”

Sophia met me with a raised eyebrow. “Since when are you the healer of magic?”

“I didn’t say I would be the one healing him. But he broke his magic by trying to enter my mind, I might be the only person in the world who can figure out how he actually broke it.”

I could learn a lot in the process too, but I wasn’t in a hurry. The sheyda samples that I sent to Yeva would teach me more than an unwilling prisoner. As long as the shaman didn’t show any other changes, I could live with my enemies having their magic broken by Harald. A good rumour like that might even save my ass one day.

Sophia nodded. “Well, I hope his tribe offers a decent ransom for a shaman that is no more. If not, Parusatis Kishava Aminah will gladly purchase a wermage male to breed her wer kin. As long as his seed remains potent, she won’t mind his lack of magic that much.”

I grimaced at her crude remark, knowing that her suggestion might be more common than I could imagine. Wermages predominantly took their mother’s traits; Anaise was the perfect example of that as the only thing she had from her gigantic minotaur father were his emerald eyes. Even her height wasn’t that different from her mother’s. It was impossible to say how many wermage males were quietly sequestered away just so certain households could ‘bless’ their less magically fortunate women with powerful children.

But I didn’t challenge her words. There was a lot to do before I could tackle that aspect of Emanai culture and, as the recent divine intervention showed me, the ‘a lot’ was somewhat bigger than I originally planned for. On the other hand, his current fate was the result of my actions so the least I could do was spare him from that fate specifically. Perhaps, by purchasing him myself once the campaign was over and the loot would be divided-

“Wait.”

I paused and glanced at a smirking Sophia and then back at the shaman. “Yes?”

He shuffled his crossed legs, wrapping his thin tail across his body. “What do you want?”

“I already-”

“No, you said what you think that I want. What do you want?”

I let go of the flap and walked back to him, tapping my chin in thought. “You are a shaman, a wise man of the steppe. I want your wisdom.”

He scoffed. “You want me to teach the deaf and mute how to sing? You will not fool me with your tricks and impossible demands.”

“I want you to tell the stories that you share with your young, share the songs of your people, and speak the wisdom of your ancestors. The legends of Barsashahr. My scribes will write them down.”

“And fuck your wife.”

I rubbed my temples and glanced back at Sophia. “Can you share some of your wisdom, oh Censor of Emanai? Who has a greater Spark — this shaman or Muramat Nishad?”

“If this shaman was even remotely close, he wouldn’t be sent as a mere scout. They have greater numbers but their average mage is weaker than ours.”

The prisoner bristled. “Four generations of shamans stand behind me!”

Sophia shrugged. “And the Kamshad can name fifteen.”

“You heard the wise lady,” I butted in. “Unless you are that eager to be milked for your seed daily.”

“You don’t understand honour, merk.”

I rolled my eyes. “My simple point was, you are not going to fuck my wives. You can go celibate for all I care. Remember, you are speaking to someone who can kill a sheyda in his yurt and walk away unharmed.”

His eyes flashed with anger. “She broke the bread with us!”

I leaned closer. “And Trymr Rurkha landed the first blow, eager to claim an artefact from her pouch.”

“She would’ve been dead if he did.”

“If she could’ve died from his first blow, she would've died from his second. Tell me, did his yurt look like the fight was over in a single blow?” He glanced away and I leaned back. “He couldn’t see past the absence of her Spark and he paid for that blindness with his life. He broke the tradition and Fate was swift to judge him.”

He sat silently for a few moments and harrumphed. “I will share the wisdom of my ancestors with you. Be grateful for my offer.”

I clapped my hands. “Splendid! Sophia Chasya, can I pay his price right away?”

Sophia innocently tilted her head. “You can afford him?”

I started to speak only to palm my face. “Really, now?”

“Parusatis Aminah might be interested in his seed and she would pay accordingly for it, while I am interested in how you broke his magic. The price of my interest is much, much greater, Erf.” She turned her smug, smiling face to the prisoner. “Don’t bother covering your crotch — I need your seed even less than he does. You can fill his ears with your fables as much as you want but I will be present as he tries to learn what broke your magic.”

“I am not even going to bother challenging that because something tells me you would demand me to tell you all about it anyway.” I sighed and glanced at the prisoner. “So, do you accept?”

“You ask as if I have a choice.”

“You do.” “You don’t.”

Sophia’s horns were very yankable right now, but I kept my righteous urges suppressed.

“Can I take his shackles off?”

“For a moment, and only when both of us are present.” Sophia vanished the shackles with a snap of her fingers. “I don’t want to deal with a runaway wermage within my camp. Too much mess to clean up afterwards.”

I ignored her subtle threats as I gathered my thoughts. Now that I got here, I was actually at a loss for what to do. There was no point in torturing animals — Sophia was descriptive enough for me to get the gist. Should I bring Chirp? No, Harald was the safest option.

“Use your magic on me agai-” I bit my tongue as a hefty staff brained me on my head.

“Are you raving mad!” Sophia thundered.

“I know how his magic felt before it broke and I can compare that to what it feels right now.” I glanced at her while rubbing my head. “Besides, he never reached my mind anyway. It was more like tickling my navel. I just want him to ‘tickle’ it again.”

“I was trying to kill you,” the shaman reminded me in a dry tone.

“No, you were telling me to kill myself.” I corrected him and he flinched. “How do I know? I told you — I felt your magic the first time around. But I am not a bird or a horse to blindly follow such commands. Go, hit me.”

The shaman grabbed my face with his hands and started humming, ignoring the naked blade at his throat that Sophia summoned from somewhere.

Harald was ready this time around. Not to smite the foe in front of him but to record the sudden records that weren’t recorded. There were a few hiccups and infinite loops along the way but eventually Harald and I got the magical spring of information ‘under control’. Not that there was much to control to begin with. Yes, the shaman was repeatedly telling me to kill myself. Yes, this time around Harald understood him properly. But…

The man was essentially trying to delete a text document by typing ‘delete, delete, delete’ within it…

A slight smile appeared on my face. Take that, magic! At least for once, it was acting like a caveman! Well, the shaman was acting like an illiterate user. Because he was one… He was also directly interacting with a piece of living tech without any augmentations and relying on a packet of information that most humans wouldn’t be able to receive, yet alone understand and use.

He was ‘typing’ his ‘delete, delete, delete’ without using any input devices simply by magically spitting commands straight into the system…

Stupid wermages.

But that could wait. I opened the ‘document’ that kept the shaman so occupied and ‘typed’ my own words.

“Hello, Jargal.”