“Var Liyal…” breathed Grandfather Athanu. The old man rested in a massive cushioned armchair and watched drops of water falling from the leaves of trees through the iron columns, while Aralim knelt on a floor cushion nearby. “Why would you wish to know of this place?” Continue reading Aralim 31
Aralim’s return from the market was similar to most days, but his arrival at the West Corid estate was concluded in a much different way. The streets he walked, with a pack laden with new clothes and a few preferred food items, were alive with the people of Rema. He never grew accustomed to their vibrancy nor to their culture. He passed a man with a straight robe that began like a towel wrapped around his armpits, while his shoulders were tattooed, one with a woman’s face, and the other with a skull. Even the poorest of merchants seemed to wear jewelry, while Aralim wore none. Of course, no one walked with a lantern staff in one hand, especially no one with a pack so laden. The servants of the estate bought most of their food-goods, but Aralim explored the markets himself occasionally. Continue reading Aralim 30
There was so much rain that afternoon that the servants had to towel the floors in front of the balcony doors and upstairs windows. Despite it, or perhaps because of it, Yakalaka chose this day to return to Aralim’s mansion. He was doing some stretches—his worn frame often required some attention to get rid of sore muscles and skin kinks—when Ko let the foreign minister of Rema into the foyer along with two of her guards. Continue reading Aralim 29
As expected, Yakalaka visited Aralim a week after she had first suggested he steal Rattar’s enchanted knife. He used precisely the same excuse that the Grand Mage had suggested, that he was planning an elaborate heist, and she went on her way once more. Miresh continued her studies, and spent her days at home playing cards with Naeen or sketching on a proper sketchbook that Rattar had bought her. Continue reading Aralim 28
The morning was rainy again, but only a light drizzle dampened Aralim’s dark grey robe as he followed Miresh through the bustling city streets toward the Iron Palace. As he rounded a corner and a barrel overflowing with assorted coloured citrus, he spotted the guards of the outer Palace wall, overlooking the streets in small towers surrounded by winding stairs. As they approached the front entrance of the Palace, the arching stone thoroughfare, Aralim notices something new. The usual guards, with grotesque or ornate iron armaments, flanked the line of Aura that permitted entryway to the Palace grounds, like usual. Continue reading Aralim 27
Miresh was gone again, this time watching a blacksmith at work with hammer and grindstone, repairing blades and armour. Aralim agreed to play a game of cards with his friends, and he picked up the strategy quickly. It was a betting game that involved an unusual deck of cards. While in Aralim’s homeland, cards consisted of three numbered suits, Hayan assured him that this was a normal arrangement. There were two colours, usually red and grey. Each colour included two of every card—two Rulers, two Masters, two Commoners, two Slaves, as well as optional wild cards. As the deck was rather small by his experience, he found he could quickly count the cards and guess accurately what might be dealt. Unfortunately, everyone who played could too and Naeen quickly outwitted both Hayan and Aralim. Continue reading Aralim 26
The brown fields had burned. As Raya, Benn, and Dondar trekked out of the ruins of Ellakar and the flattened forest around it, they found a haunted land, covered in embers. They stumbled on a dead oryx buck one day, laying amidst the uprooted or flattened grasses. It had no wounds and did not appear starved. Dondar said it had been poisoned by the ash. Continue reading Raya 21
The long litter was coming back along West Corid Avenue, when Grandfather Athanu, as he was known, finally broke through their small talk. Aralim had been interrupted from his reading yet again, by the arrival of the apparently famous Chamberlain Athanu, a man in a black robe, with golden earrings and a dark grease holding his greying hair back. They had spoken briefly of the attack on the Palace, of course, but aside from that Grandfather Athanu had kept their conversation light. He finished off his glass of wine as they passed through the noisy market at the end of the street and then looked Aralim in the eyes. “I’m 78,” he told Aralim. “I was born in the first year of the century.” Continue reading Aralim 25
The air near the window was comfortable because of the soft breeze, and beads and incense kept the bugs out. Aralim sniffled his nose, and turned the page he had been reading. Nearby, Hayan was reading another book; he had decided to help out. They were both reading about rats. Naeen was, apparently, practicing some sleight of hand tricks, a small deck of worn out cards slamming against the table behind them every few moments. She had tried explaining it to Aralim, but it didn’t make much sense. Who would fall for such nonsense? Continue reading Aralim 24
For a few weeks, Aralim stopped following Miresh to train on the Palace grounds. She was watching the rat still, willing its death upon it, and Aralim was growing weary of praying over his slowly budding flower. If he couldn’t help Miresh by learning the supernatural abilities she was, he could at least provide information to support her. For one week, he slowly progressed through the most tedious tome he had ever read: On the Lives of Rabbits, Squirrels, Mice, and Other Rodents by Master Curidae of Keb’kres. Hayan spoke in love of the city of Keb’kres, when he examined the authorial imprint in the first page of the book. Naeen said very little about it, as usual. Her continued presence in their estate might have been an exploitation of their hospitality, but Aralim none of them minded. She was their friend too. Continue reading Aralim 23