Ecdysis

Chapter 97. Emergence

Shireen Kamshad Inayat

“Report.”

Her assistant bowed deep. “The other Manors are silent. We caught a few passers-by picking up fragments around your walls, but the rest of the city remains unaware. The fragments were brought inside.”

Shireen rubbed her chin. “What do my artisans say?”

“The pieces came from a single Thing, my Domina.”

She harrumphed in acknowledgement and returned to her thoughts. Was it a good omen or a bad one? Things didn’t rain in chunks from a clear sky without a reason. The fragments weren’t expensive by themselves, not to a Domina of her status, but if they were gathered back into one piece…

“And the scouts?”

Nearby, her daughter tilted her head. “You suspect foul play?”

“We have a horde of nomads in our hinterlands, Farah, and you were privy to the missive from the Censor.”

“Unless she wished to claim all the honour to herself — her military achievements still pale in comparison to her brother.”

“Yet her current ones are more than enough for the Dominas of Bayan Gol to respectfully step aside when she stepped in. Do not forget that.”

Her daughter bowed, “I do not deny her status, mother, I question the intelligence of barbarians. Their strength lies in numbers and the swiftness of their horses, not their strategy. You saw them scatter as soon as their scouts brought the news of approaching arms — all they know are fake retreats.”

“And that one could’ve been a fake as well,” Shireen mused, twisting her braid in thought. “You know that the Kishava sent out their scouts in secret. Not only they failed to find the enemy camp and return with supplies and slaves, none of them came back alive. Archomilea Bragge left plenty of his shamans behind to stalk our lands.”

She turned back to her silent assistant and tilted her ear. “Tell me everything else that you’ve gathered so far. Leave nothing behind.”

“Your scouts didn’t see any large forces in our vicinity nor odd-birds of their shamans. Some might lie hidden in wait, but they couldn’t achieve something of this scale this quickly and without notice. The city guards are alert…” The old wer paused and then continued with a frown. “We have captured a murk vagrant inside your stables when he fell through the roof.”

Domina felt her eyebrows rise. “You are telling me that a murk snuck into the heart of my Manor and my guards were none the wiser?”

“Your guard captain has expressed willingness to personally deal with him, but she has more important duties right now. They report the murk acting like a drunk and spouting nonsense about his importance. He even went so far as to demand a meeting with you.”

“As she should,” Shireen growled. “I will not have them abandoning their posts to mend the mistakes of the past. Very well, bring him here. Now.”

“My Domina.” Her assistant disappeared after a quick bow.

Shireen sighed. “A broken roof… I am surrounded by ineptitude on all sides. Farah, dear, remind me to summon my carpenter as well — she promised me the roof was sturdy enough to last decades!”

“I will, mother. Are you curious about him?”

“Drunk or not, he might’ve seen something on the roof,” Shireen reasoned. “If he did — I will learn it. My guards will deal with him afterwards.”

It didn’t take long for her guards to drag the murk into her pavilion. A youthful body and a well-kept face, ruined by a crippled body. Somewhat short hair without braids — was he a runaway slave or did his previous owner cast him out for being useless? Shireen could see her daughter puff her cheeks — Farah had a soft spot for cute things and hated seeing them broken like this. Perhaps, if Shireen was satisfied with his answers, she might let her keep him.

The guard tried to push him into the sands of her inner courtyard, but the murk, despite having a swollen, bruised leg and missing an arm, deftly sidestepped the strike and took a step inside himself. His hand touched his eyes and then his chest as he bent into a proper bow. “Your sight is in my heart, esteemed Domina. I am honoured to have a meeting with you so quick-”

She shifted in her lounging chair. “How did you get into my Manor?” The last thing she needed right now was a polite conversation with a murk.

His smile stiffened but didn’t vanish. The murk either had the courage or lacked sensibility. “The Creature dropped me on your roof, esteemed Domina.”

“Truly? And why did the Thing choose to drop you on my Manor?”

The murk shrugged. “That is where I’d managed to kill it. It was teleporting all over the place and this place was its last.”

Shireen pressed her lips thin. He was beyond drunk, it seemed.

One of her guards took a step forward with his hand on the hilt of his kattar. “A drunkard like you can’t even find his own cock under the tunic, let alone kill an old one…” He noticed the gaze of a not-at-all-amused Shireen and glanced away, clearing his throat. “Allow me to teach him some manners, my Domina — he clearly knows not the level of respect you rightfully deserve.”

She looked back at the murk. “You have a choice, then. Either you start speaking the truth and do so quickly, or you can prove your words with deeds. Who killed the Thing?”

The cripple stuck his only thumb in the direction of her guard. “Do you want me to kill him, then? Or just break him enough so that he pleads for mercy?”

Shireen blinked.

The murk tilted his head. “Perhaps, you want me to pluck his arms and legs, one by one, until all he can do is lie in bed and wallow in pity and anguish for the rest of his life? Have your guards kept the knowledge about my status away from you, esteemed Domina?”

She didn’t like not knowing, especially today. “What status?”

The murk made a small bow and stood up straight, “I am a Procurer of Kiannika, under direct orders of Sophia Shebet Chasya. I was given the title of the Alchemist of Kiymetl and one of Nanaya Kiymetl Ayda’s granddaughters calls me her husband. While I currently lack my sashes, clothing, and armour; my honour, skills, and status remain by my side, esteemed Domina.”

She glanced at her assistant and received a hurried head shake — he was not aware either.

“It appears to be quite a dilemma between our most unusual visitor and your guard captain, mother. I wonder who speaks the truth?” Farah sighed.

“Indeed,” Shireen nodded, approving her daughter’s solution. “Summon my captain at once and let them decide between each other who is more just.”

If she were honest with herself, the murk was worming his way into her heart with how he carried himself. His calm demeanour despite the ever-growing odds, deserved if not begrudging respect but a token curiosity at the very least. She shifted in her lounging chair once more, giving herself a better view of the courtyard. The Thing was dead and the mystery of its sudden appearance above her Manor could wait for now — Bayan Gol was far from the Border wall and Things were… expected. Thing-slaying murks, however, were quite a novelty even to her and she wouldn’t want to miss seeing one in action if that was the case.

If not, the resulting spectacle would be good for her guards’ morale — the men were growing restless in their idleness just as their words were growing cruder day by day.

The guard captain entered the pavilion with her billowing kaftan muffling the rustle of her mail. She hid her annoyance well and ignored the murk, but Shireen could recognise the twitch of her ears. Her wide steps brought her into the sands at the centre where she made a bow in greeting. “My Domina.”

“This barely dressed cripple,” Shireen gestured at the silent murk beside the captain, “claims to have slain the Thing himself. Moreover, he claims to be a Procurer of the highest sort. The one that procures enemy secrets and commander’s heads and not just grain and fodder for the marching arms. So, either the murk is farting through his teeth, or you and your guards allowed an unknown Procurer to approach me while keeping me unawares.”

Delara gripped her mace. “Then I will wash away his words of discord and ridicule with his blood.”

Shireen glanced at the murk, curious at what he would say.

The murk shrugged. “You expect me to draw her blood in turn? Or should I go straight for the kill so that my words would be without question? I promise you — it is not in our interests to continue this far longer than we have to.”

Farah giggled and Shireen couldn’t hold her smile either — the murk’s behaviour was just too amusing. “You claim to be a Procurer of the esteemed Sophia Chasya, are you not? Then you need to act in a way that won’t besmirch her reputation. Unless the General of Emanai had sent you here to kill a kin of Kamshad, that is.”

The murk paused for a heartbeat and gave her a nod. “I will keep it clean and fast, then.”

Domina turned her gaze back to her captain and received a solemn nod. A quick gesture of her fingers and her magic drew a large circle in the sand, surrounding the two. “May the Goddess pick the just.”

Delara charged immediately, aiming for the healthy leg with her mace and the murk…

The murk loosened the rope that held his loincloth and flicked it like a whip. He was skilled — a single flick of his wrist was all it took for his weapon to wrap around Delara’s neck and give him the necessary leverage to dodge her first strike. The rope grew taut and her captain gasped.

Shireen grimaced. Was she a guard captain of a Kamshad Manor or some spoiled brat who never felt a single punch? All of Shireen’s guards would receive double training from now on, with her personal oversight. Triple, if they kept flinching and gasping in such a manner.

The mace fell onto the sand with a quiet thud as Delara clawed at her neck and chest. She wasn’t gasping anymore but wheezing. Loud, laborious sounds of a dying woman; bloodshot and wide-open eyes on a rapidly reddening face…

She wasn’t choking. Poison?

“Enough!” Shireen shouted, standing from her seat. Her magic grabbed the murk by his neck. “I believe I’ve made my desires clear!”

“She isn’t dead,” the Procurer flicked his wrist again, loosening the grip on her captain’s neck. Delara promptly fell on all fours and lost her previous meal. “Nor was she dying in the first place.”

With the wer at his feet, his calm demeanour now felt threatening rather than amusing, but Domina of Bayan Gol wasn’t just a fancy title. Shireen earned it. She flicked her tail aside and sat down once again, showing a relaxed appearance yet ready to attack at a moment’s notice. “You used a poison.”

He tilted his head. “Throughout the ages, wise people repeated a common adage — ‘If you are facing a powerful enemy, consider not attacking’. If you face an enemy stronger than you — don’t try to overpower them. You will face defeat. If you are facing an enemy whose skills you cannot match — don’t try to outmanoeuvre them. If you are facing an enemy that is both stronger and more skilled than you — do not face them in direct battle. Make them fight themselves, instead. If you can achieve that, it matters not whether your opponent is a Thing, a wer, or even a sheyda.” He picked up his loincloth and tied it back in place. “What I used on her was not a poison but more of… a very peculiar spice. Just as some peppers make you think your mouth is on fire, it made her feel like she was drowning instead. As if she was sinking to the bottom of the ocean and every breath she took felt like another gulp of seawater. Many can withstand the feeling of pain but few — the feeling of drowning.

“She feels nauseous right now, but that sickness came from her taking in too much air too quickly. It will pass with time, before the sun will set on the horizon. If you didn’t stop me then and there, your captain would’ve simply fainted within a couple of heartbeats, ending the challenge.”

Domina considered her options. Then she slowly lifted her hands and started clapping.

“A splendid show of Procurer skills!” She boomed. “What is your name, young warrior, and what is the name of the woman who claims you as her husband?”

She had been a General herself and knew how to sense what couldn’t be seen through Sparks and sashes. When all she had were the reports of her scouts, the general feel of her maniples’ morale, and the feeling in her gut. The murk didn’t flinch when her magic held him. He didn’t threaten nor did he cower. Shireen had met enemy forces that acted this way, calm scouts that didn’t flinch at the size of her arms. More often than not, it meant their friendly forces were behind a nearby hill.

Sophia Chasya was that force. The wind mage that could hear far and wide. As such, Shireen chose to treat the murk as a guest of her Manor for now, observe him, and wait for further news and revelations. There was no need to rush and possibly run afoul of a domineering General with two blooded arms by her side.

And if she were to acquire the secret of that spice for her own Procurers in the meantime — all the better.

Before the Procurer could speak again, her frazzled son barged into the pavilion still in his war form, his tail puffed and full of dust. “Urgent news, mother!”

“By the Goddess!” Shireen exclaimed, muffling the room with a silence spell. “I’ve already had Procurers and Things today, what is raining on my Manor’s roofs this time!?”

XXX

“While I immensely appreciate your mother’s generosity,” I mumbled, scratching my hair, “isn’t all of this… a bit too much?”

All I wanted from the Kamshad Domina was a swift messenger to Kiannika at best, or a set of clothes and a large meal so that I could do the trip myself otherwise. I wouldn't have said no to a horse either, even if I had to release it midway or consume it outright to fill my reserves.

Instead, I was standing on a galley’s deck, above dozens of wer oarsmen tirelessly pushing the ship downriver with a speed that I didn’t think was even possible. Well, I knew galleys were swift vessels and I knew wer were stronger than ‘base humans’, but somehow both of those facts didn’t link together in my head beforehand and seeing it in action was eye-opening. Oar propulsion and the curves in the river limited the top speed of the vessel but that only meant the ‘oarswer’ were able to row for hours without getting tired. And when they did get tired — there was a separate group of wer resting and waiting for their turn.

Granted, the galley was made with such speed in mind and lacked anything else apart from some basic supplies to keep the wer fed and watered and a couple of tents at the stern for the Domina and her entourage. It was a light messenger ship, designed to quickly deliver news or individuals to the mainland without braving the path through the Forest. A fleet of those would be ill-equipped to move or supply arms, but, for a Domina, it meant that Bayan Gol was a lot closer to the rest of Emanai.

A lot closer to Kiannika and Ulastai, too. The battle took place near the shores of the same river Bayan Gol was on and even though the arms were several marching days away from the city, this galley could make the trip in less than a day of continuous rowing.

As long as one had a retinue of magical rowers at hand. Shireen Inayat did and she was willing to use them.

Not just her, multiple galleys were rowing beside us, flying the colours of other Kamshad Manors as well as Kosenya and Kishava. There were other, bigger ships as well, carrying additional supplies and luxuries, but they were left trailing behind long ago. This wasn’t just a message but a full delegation from Bayan Gol’s elite.

“Who do you think you are, Tana’s navel?” Delara Kamshad muttered nearby.

Her voice was quiet enough to be drowned by the rhythmic thrum of rowing drums but my ears could pick it out anyway. After our quick scuffle, she was ‘promoted’ to be my assistant and to make sure that my needs as a guest of the Manor were properly met. Partially as her punishment and partially — to keep an eye on me at all times. She was feistier at the beginning of our trip, until I got fed up and ‘allowed’ myself to be goaded into an ‘honest fight, no tricks or cheats this time’. My spell ‘fist to the stomach’ had left quite an impression on her and now she was mostly a sullen shadow behind my back with an occasional mumble or two.

Not that I cared much about her wounded pride. The manor guards’ dismissive attitude cost me half a day of being stuck inside a filthy hole in the ground that they called a ‘jail’. Even with the speed that the galleys took off from the city and their continuous rowing throughout the night, it was already the morning of a second day since I was missing in action. Considering where I ended up, my return was lightning fast by Emanai standards, but my personal clock ran on a different time scale.

The time wasn’t entirely wasted, however — by the time I was summoned to see Domina, I’d healed the hole in my chest, turned my leg from a barely recoverable mess into a somewhat swollen appendage, and was preparing for a breakout — but all of that could’ve happened quicker.

I did get what I wanted in the end so there was no reason to respond to her remarks anyway. In fact, what was keeping me on the galley was not the watchful eye of my overseer who wasn’t even aware of my true land speed, but the simple understanding that with a single lash and without Chirp, I wouldn’t be that much faster anyway. That and the consistent meals that I didn’t have to steal or scavenge.

Domina’s daughter, Farah Negar, finally took her eyes away from the horizon and turned toward me. Similar to Lita’af’s white, her mane of grey was just as voluminous. It was also heavily braided to resist the wind and bejewelled to impress the eye. “How did the battle fare before you were… taken?”

Along with my status, I had disclosed some parts behind my sudden appearance so far away from my arm. Enough to make it obvious to the Kamshad Domina that my safe return would earn her favours from Lita’af Hikmat herself, but not too much to make her consider whether getting rid of me altogether was a much safer option in the long run. My memory would improve drastically once I grew my arm back and picked up my trimmer.

“The two arms collapsed the right flank, but the nomads unleashed Things on our left, stalling any progress there.” I glanced at a nearby galley where wermage children took up a game of tag amongst themselves by jumping from one ship to another. “I would say that the galleys tell me more about the state of our battle than anything else I could remember.”

“Truly? What do the galleys tell you, young Erf?”

“A delegation of Dominas and their children, but not enough in terms of material wealth to say that you are bringing all of your riches with you. Therefore, you aren’t running away from Bayan Gol before victorious barbarians raze it to the ground — you are on your way to meet someone of high status. Sophia Chasya? That feels unlikely — she would’ve entered Bayan Gol herself once her victorious arms reached the city. Both as a show of safety for your townsfolk and to allow her arms some rest after the Forest march and a subsequent battle. An attempt to deny her a triumph — why bring children, then? Matriarchs? All eight Pillars are in Samat right now and it would take tendays for them to come here, swift galleys or not. Unless, of course, magic.”

Delara gave Farah a look. “Eight Pillars.”

Farah hummed, “You are quite observant, but your senses can only reach so far and there are things that simply aren’t spoken about in the open. I would have been surprised at your knowledge about the eighth Pillar’s existence, but you probably heard it from Sophia Chasya herself.”

She twisted on the spot and, with a slight creak of wood under her feet, launched herself onto a galley where her mother was partying with other Dominas.

“Eighth Pillar!?”

I glanced at my astonished overseer. “The House of Gabal, an offshoot from the House of Samat. They were given Emanai mines to care for. And, before you ask — no. The Kamshad will retain their ownership of Bayan Gol’s tin mines. Your Domina has nothing to worry about.”

Delara shuffled in place. “You reveal secrets with such ease, it is no wonder no one trusts your words.”

“A Divine decree, proclaimed to the entirety of the city of Samat, is no secret at all.”

“Yet here, a Procurer knows what was only revealed to Dominas and their close families.”

I leaned on the rail and peered forward. “I have earned many titles, guard captain, and a Procurer is but the least of them all. Two Pillar Houses, Kiymetl and Enoch, vie for my attention; enough to possibly start a blood feud with Kamshad for daring to keep me captive. This was why I said to your Domina that Lita’af Kamshad Hikmat would favour her for bringing me back. It isn’t just about a stain on her honour that one of her servants was implicated in my abduction — she knows me and knows what is at stake here… and that is one big-ass sky turtle over there.”

“The what!?”

I gestured at the horizon. “In the clouds, beside the Emanai Sky Castle. The Divines of Barsashahr, would be my guess. The symbols on the flags look familiar. I am surprised there are no elephants on top, however. They missed a perfect chance to do that.”

Delara peered into the cloudy late-autumn sky and then twisted around to see a group of Dominas, all standing in a regal manner on one of the galleys and looking in the same direction that I was. “W-what are you!?”

“I am many things, but Lita’af Hikmat often called me the daimon of Kiymetl; and so did many Matriarchs, including mine.”

I could hear her teeth grinding. “Just… just stay here for a little while… um, please.”

“Believe me, if I chose to leave, neither you, this ship, or even that pit in the ground would’ve held me back.” Now that the big players were entering the game, there was no need to dance around my status.

A part of me wished to drop everything anyway and check out that turtle in person, but I held myself still. I was almost back to my Anaise and Irje and getting abducted again — by Divines this time, no less — because I was a bit touchy-feely with the magical flying animal of nomadic gods, was not in my plans. I didn’t even wish to be ‘poofed’ to the Emanai Castle once more, let alone to the tent city on top of the shell. Not after my shenanigans with Bragge and Jergal.

Oh, but how I wished that Chirp was still around. It could sneak out and take some samples without being seen. But it was also possible that the only magic that turtle had was its sheer size and the flying was done by some Divine runic array on its shell.

Time would tell.

I was expecting the Domina or someone from her family to accost me right away, but they had apparently chosen an equally sensible approach of simply ignoring the awkward subject outright. I got but a scant few looks during the last leg of our river travel and, when we got close enough for the Divine Castles to finally come into everyone’s view, things got a lot more hectic for anyone to bother me at all.

They weren’t kowtowing at my feet and smashing their foreheads into blood in apology but, as long as they wouldn’t cause an incident once we reached Kiannika and drew even more attention to me in front of their Sky Mommies and Daddies, it was a win in my books.

I did, however, find a sturdy male khalat on top of my sleeping mat and a warm woollen cloak to keep the autumn chill at bay. Then, when we finally disembarked, the silent Delara approached me with a horse, one of the very few that her Manor had brought along on their galleys.

Now, that drew some eyes.

“You have quite a peculiar face in your party, my dear cousin,” one of the Kamshad Dominas remarked when I finally got my ass into the saddle. Luckily, the horse stood still and Delara held her by the bridle, so I managed to do so without asking for a step chair. The noble kids were already in their saddles and busy smirking at me. Little gremlins — I bet those snickers would turn into shrieks of envy once they saw my flying balloon. I couldn’t see it floating in the air, but it was likely grounded just to be polite to the gods above. Both castles floated not that far off the ground, circling each other in one place, and I couldn’t imagine what would happen if one of the Kausar twins decided to aim the looking glass into a Sky Bathroom and caught a glimpse of some Divine Ass.

Shireen Inayat glanced at me, and I could see the conflicting emotions in the twitch of her tail — observing Lita’af had taught me much. I offered her a silent bow with a genial smile. While I held no specific ill-will towards her, I wouldn’t rudely intrude into a conversation between two Dominas just to throw her a lifepod.

“He is a guest of my Manor,” she finally made the choice. “A warrior and a messenger of Sophia Shebet Chasya. My guards discovered him heavily wounded after a battle and his honour demanded for him to return to his maniple as soon as he was able.”

Well, she was a Domina without a doubt. While not saying a single lie, she’d managed to spin quite a tale, both sensible and not particularly interesting either. All I could do was offer her a soldier’s salute by thumping my chest with my only arm.

“Hmm… If you say so, dear cousin. You know, I have brought plenty of silver. If there is a need…”

“Your concerns are welcome, cousin, but unnecessary.” Shireen shook her head in a reply. “My coffers are quite well off.”

“I hope that you know what you are doing, then, Shireen Inayat. We aren’t approaching the camp of Sophia Chasya, but the hallowed ground under the Sky Castle. We can’t afford to look… less than what we are.”

I could hear the creaking leather as Delara squeezed the bridle tight just as I could feel the accusatory glances of Shireen’s family including her previously amenable daughter as they weathered the looks of pity and contempt from their peers, yet I did nothing. My eyes were on the Kiannika’s camp far in the distance and the myriad of flags and colours within its walls. Somewhere there was a familiar blonde and an equally familiar red.

The nomads were further afield, but it didn’t look like either side was planning for another skirmish anytime soon, it was as if two children were standing behind their respective parents and waiting until the adults decided on the outcome of the conflict.

“A friendly party is approaching us,” Shireen replied while glancing at me, “and I see the standard of our Matriarch flying in the wind. I am sure that the one riding under it, Lita’af Hikmat, would offer us her wisdom in this matter.”

“My, what a humble daughter she is. Despite her status, she is showing respect by riding to greet us!”

In less than a second, Dominas pivoted from judging Shireen Inayat’s recent life choices to gossiping about the children of their respective Matriarchs.

The cavalcade was small and consisted solely of Kamshad riders, plenty of whom had white manes, similar to Lita’af Hikmat. It felt more as if the Kamshad rode out to greet the other Kamshad, but there was no strict requirement to send any greeting parties in the first place, not this close to the camp, so that might’ve been the case all along.

It barged into our space with a sound of gallop, clouds of dust, and a furious she-wolf at the front. My heart skipped a beat — Lita’af wasn’t in a happy mood today. Hopefully, it had less to do with me and my sadaq and more — with Siavash.

“Esteemed aunts and cousins, your sight is in my heart.” Her speech was, as always, polite and proper.

One of the Kamshad Dominas nudged her horse forward, “And your name is on our lips, Lita’af Kamshad Hikmat. We have received a Shebet missive and rushed here without any delay to witness the Divine Grace. Please tell us, what does this portent during your battle mean for the Manors of Bayan Gol? What is the Censor’s interpretation of it?”

“The barbarian Gods couldn’t witness yet another loss at the hands of our arms, but our Goddess was quick to show herself and protect the children of her lands… The Divines have remained silent since then. We are hoping for her benevolent justice-” Lita’af paused and sniffed the air. “Excuse me.”

She pushed her horse toward us and gasped. “Erf! You are back! …and you are hurt.”

I glanced down at my stump and then back at her. “You should see the Creature that did it. Although, I am somewhat astonished that you could recognise me by my smell alone.”

She sighed and tilted her head. “I am happy to see that your peculiar jests remained by your side. It is quite obvious that I would recognise your smell — especially after that incident with your sword’s oil on me. I made sure to remember it then and there.”

I choked on empty air. “Lita’af, please. Phrasing.” The last thing I needed right now was getting clawed by one of her unrequited loves I was just hearing gossip about. “Uh, how do my wives fare, if you don’t mind me asking you so bluntly?”

“They did not appreciate your disappearance, if I were to say it politely, but they were sensible enough to work with me and mine for the good of our Houses. While the main culprit was quick to take his life, I have been quite busy for the last two days cleaning out any potential rot and trying to unearth any traces of your whereabouts… It might be better if we continue this conversation at a more appropriate location with all involved parties being present, wouldn’t you agree?”

Seeing my nod, she turned around and waved someone over, “Tahir! Bring me one of my fresh horses! We are heading back to the camp post haste!”

My polite smile froze on my face. Wermages and their customs. I would rather ride on a calm mare of a wer captain than on a vicious warhorse of the Kamshad’s future Matriarch, even if it looked less prestigious otherwise. I cast a glance at Shireen Inayat but the Domina was already busy preening in the gawks of her peers, as if she personally dragged me out of the Creature’s maw. Delara was almost indistinguishable from the environment by now and I couldn’t imagine her protesting against the wishes of her Matriarch’s daughter anyway.

Farah?

Farah Negar was somehow already on my flank, as if summoned out of thin air like a jinn. Her hot rushed whisper in my ear. “Do you know Albin Chasya just as closely, then?”

“He does.”

Farah shrieked cutely while I gawked at the other jinn beside me. “Albin? What the fuck are you doing here?”

The Mephistopheles sat in his saddle on a horse befitting his status and bodyweight, swinging his feet back and forth and grinning while the bells in his shoes tinkled a strangely familiar melody. “What do you mean? Someone had to bring the much-needed supplies to my most favourite sister and Samat was getting too rowdy for me anyhow. They were spending evenings throwing feasts for the new Pillar and then suffering the consequences every morning.”

“Amateurs,” I mumbled. “I see that your… other duties… didn’t keep you bound for too long?”

“Well, I am on a small break,” he winked at me. “I can’t just miss the return of my bastard son, can I?”

“Albin,” I rubbed my temples and gestured at the gawking wermages all around us, “You are mixing up the names and scarring the local populace in the process.”

“Am I? No, that rumour was from the Samat gossip mills. One of the originals. Come with me.”

“Come where?”

The large, owlish pools of blue looked into my soul. “Jokes aside, Erf, but you’ve stepped into an enormous game this time. A game of gods and time. You’ve played your part and played it well, but you can’t continue to play it without knowing the rules. At least the ones that matter most to you and your sadaq. Lita’af can wait, Erf, and so can your wives. Come.”

I glanced at the frozen faces all around us. Astonishment, disbelief, surprise. The frozen spectators of a comedy, with me as its main actor. At least, I hoped it was a comedy. “Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice.”

“You know,” Albin floated off his frozen horse and turned towards the shore, “sometimes I feel like the choice that matters most would be one of yours. Or maybe it already was? Only Flow knows. Here.”

A tightly wound wrap flew into my hands. Grasping it, I felt the familiar shapes under the cloth — either he recovered my piano in full from Bragge’s tent, or it was a new set of ‘pillow farts’ for me to tune. I shook my head and jumped off my horse. He and his riddles.

Albin’s tent stood alone on the shore of the river, right where the galleys had made their landfall not that long ago. Did he set it up just now? Or was it already there before we even landed, unseen by all?

Only Albin knew.