The irritation of the whistling bird eventually became the least of the group’s worries. Miresh eventually managed to send the bird away, but by that time the constant noise and periodic excrement that had marred their belongings had been joined by swarms of insects and crushing humidity. Everyone, save Aralim and Nill, dressed down when the bugs allowed. Miresh, Velad’na, and the crew of their riverboat went shirtless while even Narr removed his billowing travelling cape. Aralim’s sweat drenched through his worn cloak, while Nill maintained the traditions of her homeland and endured the heat and the sluggishness that came with it. Even Rema seemed preferable to the hundreds of miles of sweltering rainforest.
Rainrest was no different. Looking for an inn, the group wandered through narrow streets packed with sweaty bodies. The markets bustled with all manner of people: Aralim saw merchants in silk fine enough to make a mogul of Rema jealous, rubbing shoulders with jungle tribesmen in loincloth. Like the maw of some sick beast, some alleys poured forth swarms of buzzing flies, blood bugs, and moths. Torches and lanterns burning incense kept the insects at bay from some markets and some patios.
It was in one such breath of fresh air that a woman emerged from the crowd, staring at Aralim. She was dressed in a tunic made of beads, while small bone clasps held her greying hair in a tail. “Are you, by chance, the Ambassador?” she asked, breathlessly. “Ambassador Aralim?”
Aralim blinked. “I suppose I am. What can I do for you?”
The middle-aged woman grinned ear-to-ear. “I knew you would come!” she exclaimed. She started walking through the crowd, away from them, and then spun back. “This way!”
With barely a glance at his comrades, Aralim strode after the stranger. The Path worked in mysterious ways. The woman led them out of the market and across a large town square with a view of the lake. There, they approached a two-storey building on the other side of the courtyard—an inn.
As they climbed the steps, the woman blurted, “I knew you were coming. It just showed up, right in front of me! Like magic!” She led them across the half-deserted common room and right into the back room. “Wait there!”
“A letter, you think?” Miresh asked, as they waited outside the swinging door.
Through the opening, Aralim could see the woman rummaging through the drawer of an old, worn desk. There was no bar, but the signs of use were everywhere—the inn would be bustling for dinner. “We can always hope for something more exciting,” Aralim said of the unknown magical object, and he gave Miresh a wink.
The innkeeper returned bearing a sealed envelope with both hands. With reverence, she passed it to Aralim.
There was a violet wax seal containing the letter, with an embossed primate face marking it. Clear lettering in the Numa’nakres style read, “For the eyes of Aralim only.” A bold underline ran below the written characters.
“It was magic, wasn’t it?” asked the woman, eagerly.
Aralim smiled. “Yes, it was. The second fastest way to send a message,” he said, and looked at the Aura. The Emperor could be hearing these very words at this very moment, for all they knew. Aralim turned to Master Velad’na. “Do you recognize the seal?” he asked.
“We don’t normally use sigils in Numa’nakres,” Velad’na replied.
“Oh, my manners! Do you want a room—some privacy?” the innkeeper asked. “We have enough space for your companions and yourself, I think, my lord.”
“Two rooms should suffice,” Aralim assured the woman, but then stepped back. “But I should excuse myself to read this for now.”
Nill retrieved her coin purse and stepped up to speak with the innkeeper.
Aralim started to leave, but paused and turned back to the Aura. “Your eyes don’t count—come on.” The Aura followed him back out into the crowded town square outside.
In the alley next to the inn, Aralim cracked the seal and flipped open a letter of moderate length. A small brass button slid out before he could go any further—he caught it in one palm, examined it, showed it to the Aura, and then pocketed it. He held out the paper for both of them to see.
The first line began, “Aralim of the Path,” and the last line ended, “Yours, Elera.” Aralim did not know anyone by that name, so he returned to the start and gave it a proper read.
“Aralim of the Path: I write to you out of concern for the coming days, an outlook shared by many of late. As the world descends into the madness of this vast war, we must all do our part to provide stability. You, I believe, seek this in one form or another. Even now, I believe, you are seeking an end to the violence in Rema. You are likely confused by my correspondence, so I will clarify. I have seen you and your struggles in my visions—my visions of the button I have included within the envelope. At last, I have seen details which may aid you:
Firstly, I can offer guidance on your present task. Focus on the Magistrate of Maykren and you will find what you seek. This has been revealed to me a few different ways.
Secondly, I have had one vision that continues to confound me, though I hope it will prove useful to you. I am unclear if it concerns yourself or the Eternal Emperor by proxy. I have seen the Iron Palace in my visions, springing into flames as though made of kindling. Then, as I stumble back from the blaze, I see a dirt path leading into the fiery Palace.
I will attempt to provide more as my visions allow. Feel free to ask about me if it will facilitate your trust. Yours, Elera.”
Aralim reread the letter, then ripped it into eighths and pocketed the scraps. His lantern was not yet lit as the hot, humid sun still shone down on them. His hand brushed the metal button, the anchor of Elera’s spying.
Whoever she was, she had proved remarkably knowledgeable about things of which she ought to have no knowledge. Aralim had no reason to doubt she was a magician—and the button was her focus. The imagery of the Iron Palace in flames reminded him of the thing he had seen with his own sight—in the Eye of Maga, Aralim had seen a city of flames.
He hurried back inside, Aura in tow. Having claimed their rooms, his comrades had just come down the stairs from the second floor. Aralim hurried up to them and said, “I have a secret admirer. She’s says I’m the greatest instrument for good in all the land.” With a glance at Nill, he added, “And that I’m excessively handsome.”
“Secret? Do you think it’s someone we know, writing anonymously?” Miresh asked.
“Even if it had had a name, it still could have been anyone. As Velad’na pointed out, seals don’t indicate identity here,” Aralim explained.
Miresh nodded. “Right.”
“Was it useful? Did it concern our investigation?” Nill asked. “I’m confused how it even found you here.”
Instead of giving her a full answer, Aralim told her, “Magicians have some interesting information sources…I don’t fully understand it myself, but we can’t let it affect our decisions too much.”
Velad’na’s expression joined the curious looks of the others, but he gave a shrug and dismissed it as Aralim’s business.
“So—dinner?” Aralim asked.
A while after dinner, Aralim knocked on the girls’ door. Nill answered, wearing just her night clothes, and then allowed Aralim to enter. Miresh was in there too, also wearing her underclothes. On the table between their cots were a few hands of cards, turned face down to preserve the secrecy. Miresh’s orange lantern was lit and sat next to the simplistic lantern that permanently resided in the inn room. The warm light made the space feel welcoming.
“I have something to show you,” Aralim said, with a smile. He pulled out the brass button.
Miresh frowned, but looked the button over with concentration.
Nill was less convinced it had significance. “What’s that? A button?” she asked, leaning back on her cot so Aralim could sit next to her.
“This is a magician’s focus,” Aralim told them. He watched Miresh carefully. “It was in the letter.”
Miresh’s eyes widened. “A magician who found their focus! They…they gave it to you?” she questioned. She looked at him with amazement. “That is quite the commitment.”
Aralim nodded. “Yes, but I’m uncertain if it’s commitment to an alliance with us, or to spying on us.” He could use all the help he was offered, but he had dealt with a generous helping of Ovoe’s since coming to Numa’nakres.
“But this admirer doesn’t have any guarantee they’ll get their focus back…would someone really commit to having most of their visions—forever potentially—be about you, just to spy?” Miresh asked.
“You don’t think I’m that interesting?” Aralim asked.
“I do,” Nill said, with a wink.
Aralim smiled, but then told Miresh, “Only time will tell.”
Nill wasn’t done. “Where could someone get a button just like that one?” she asked Miresh, laughing.
Aralim chuckled, but then leaned closer to Miresh’s flickering lantern to place the scraps of Elera’s letter within. Only time will tell, he thought.