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Part 52 - Friendly Encounters
🕑 Added 2020-11-04 17:00:05 +0000 UTCA man is courting the Madi’s daughter, so the Madi asks to meet him at his home. The man welcomes him to his table and pours him water, and as the Madi sits he notices that the house is spotlessly clean. There is not a tool out of order, not a speck of sand on the wooden floors. He is impeccably polite, charming and knowledgeable about many subjects. The two men talk into the evening before the Madi excuses himself to return home.
“Well?” his daughter asks.
The Madi sighs and shakes his head. “Daughter of mine,” he says quietly, “I cannot approve of a man who believes he can keep sand out of his house.”
- Sauvain parable.
---
The chariot rumbled along the road into Sevai Sazha, entering the wide muddy flats that encircled Sjan Saal. It was silent but for the gentle backdrop of the carriage wheels and the whisking of an occasional tree branch against the outer paneling - until the wooden barrier separating the driver’s compartment from the cabin snicked open to reveal Sjogydhu’s mildly amused face.
“I take it you had met the gate captain before this?” he asked lightly, turning his attention back to the road ahead. “The man looked ready to faint when he saw you. I suppose that could have something to do with your last visit to Sjan Saal, from the reports I’ve seen it was… eventful.”
Jesse winced, exchanging a look with Jackie. “You could say that,” he admitted. “In our defense, Vimodi did try to kill us.”
Sjogydhu snorted a laugh. “Not surprising given that you came in a chariot,” he said. “Vimodi Ma Nasa was a greedy, impulsive wart of a man. We keep files on everyone in positions of importance, even for backwaters like Sjan Saal. His was a very lengthy read. Bribery, extortion, theft, outright murder where he could get away with it - and if his female servants ever want to get near another man again I imagine they’ll choose their child’s first-name with one of you in mind.”
“I wish I could say that was a surprise,” Jackie said. “I gave Mark a lot of trouble at the time, but I guess in the end you owe him a favor.”
“What, for killing him?” Sjogydhu said, twisting around to look at her once more. “If anything, he owes us for that. Vimodi was a very easy man to manipulate, and although our operations in this area were limited they were always smooth as a result. The disruption caused by his death has been quite expensive.”
Jackie sat up to give him an incredulous look. “But you had files on him,” she protested. “Proof that he had murdered people.”
“Nobody important,” Sjogydhu said dismissively. “But still embarrassing if it were to come out. It’s leverage, Zhaqi Ra. The scriptsmiths are not tasked with seeking justice or ensuring that our minor bureaucrats keep their accounts in order. Our calling is higher, the threats we deal with greater. Lives are spent to keep Tinem Sjocel safe every day.” His face darkened. “Many lives, soon. A soldier who dies on a battlefield arguably contributes less to the kingdom than those whose deaths we can use to ensure compliance in times of great need.”
“You’re friendly enough that sometimes I forget you’re evil,” Jackie muttered, glaring darkly towards the front of the carriage. “They were still people.”
“Of course they were,” Sjogydhu said, bemused. “That’s why it was illegal to kill them. But if we brought the force of law against every transgression we observed, even the stupidest people in government would eventually stop trusting the scriptoriums to keep their confidence. They think of guildsmen and scribes as their agents, not ours, and if that changed it would be incredibly inconvenient.” He shuddered, as if the mere thought filled him with disgust. “Jaa tseve, we would never get anything done.”
“How terrible for you,” Jackie replied acidly.
Sjogydhu simply smiled and slid the divider closed once more, leaving Jesse and Jackie alone in the compartment. They exchanged another glance, but before either could speak they heard the faint whine of the chariot’s brakes. The divider opened again to show Sjogydhu’s face, looking much less amused.
“Stay inside,” he said curtly. “I’ll be right back.”
Jesse and Jackie rose to walk closer to the divider, alarmed at the sudden change in Sjogydhu’s tone. “Trouble?” Jesse asked. As they drew near they could see the finely-wrought glass walls of the driver’s cab, and beyond those a small crowd of people obstructing the road. Many of them carried farm implements, and there were a few men brandishing pikes at their periphery. In front of the crowd a roughly-hewn log lay across the road, preventing their passage.
“That does look like trouble,” Jackie said. “What do you think they want?”
Sjogydhu shook his head disgustedly. “Whatever it is, they’re damn fools if they’re obstructing a chariot in the king’s colors. I will address this and we’ll be on our way - you two, stay inside.” He slammed the divider shut, cutting off their view.
Jackie snorted and slid it back open as soon as they heard the sound of the exterior door, followed by the crunch of Sjogydhu’s boots on the road. They both leaned close to peer through as he walked to stand in front of the chariot. There were a few seconds of silence as he planted his feet and stared them down, then he touched a hand to his throat.
“This is a royal chariot,” he thundered, his voice booming unnaturally loud. “You are obstructing the king’s road. In the name of Citsuje Di Sazhocel La, clear the road.”
A ripple of uncertainty shuddered through the crowd, but a man stepped over the log and raised his bill-hook. “The king doesn’t care about us,” he shouted, “so what allegiance do we owe him? We send our food to Ce Raedhil and our sons to Idran Saal while our own wall is barely manned and our bellies are empty!”
The crowd firmed up around him, shouting their anger at Sjogyhdu and edging closer to the chariot.
Jackie drew away from the window. “Christ, it’s like Les Misérables out there,” she muttered. “And we’re in the king’s ride. Another minute and this is going to be bad, we need to go.”
“We don’t have time to turn the chariot around,” Jesse said, grabbing his sword and walking to the door. “They’ll be all over us before we can get anywhere.”
“Wait, wait!” Jackie said, her eyes widening. “Are you actually going to fight them? You heard what Sjogydhu said, you’ve seen what things are like here. They may be angry, but they’re right to be angry. The people here aren’t worth anything in the eyes of the law.”
Jesse paused and looked back at her as another scattered cheer rose from the mob outside. Sjogydhu’s voice boomed out again, warning them away, and they roared their defiance at him. “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he said quietly. “And their fight against the king is probably justified. But right here, right now, they want to hurt us. They will if nobody stops them.” He opened the door and ducked through. “You should come outside too. You don’t want to be stuck in there if they swarm us.”
She glanced around the interior of the carriage. It was sturdy, but unless there was some cleverly hidden scriptwork at play the doors weren’t thick enough to resist an axe.
“Come on,” Jesse said, an edge in his voice. “I’m not asking you to fight, just be ready to run.”
Jackie nodded, feeling numb as she stepped outside the chariot. The mob’s jeers cut off as they were spotted, then a woman’s voice rose in outrage.
“That’s them!” she screamed, stumbling to the fore of the crowd. She was clad in vivid green robes that might have once been fine cloth, now dirt-stained and torn. “The Gadhun Draatim!”
Sjogydhu turned to give them an irritated look, touching his throat to mute the script that enhanced his voice. “I would expect idiocy from Mariq Ry, but I thought you two were at least smart enough to follow instructions,” he grated. “I told you to stay inside. Now this is going to get bloody.”
“They were going to attack you,” Jesse said quietly. “You can’t hold them all off.”
“I could have run them off without a fight,” Sjogydhu hissed, “but it’s too late for that now.” He nodded at the seething woman at the front of the crowd. “That’s Tavedi Ma Nasa. I recognize her from the file.”
Jesse blinked. “Vimodi’s-”
“Murderers!” Tavedi screamed, pointing a shaking finger at them. “They came from far lands to steal and kill, in league with the traitor king!” The crowd took an angry step forward to stand with her, brandishing their weapons.
“Return our jeqiva!” she yelled. “Bow before my husband’s grave and beg forgiveness-”
Sjogydhu sighed wearily, raising Sunshine and firing it. Tavedi cut off mid-word, and when the light faded she was on the ground clutching at a blackened, steaming hole in her chest. Jesse and Jackie stared, wide-eyed, and Jesse rounded on Sjogydhu.
“She wasn’t armed!” he spat.
“The rest are,” Sjogydhu said tiredly, cycling another crystal into his weapon. “They’re screaming sedition in the road, so they’re dead anyway. Now stand ready or get back.” He gestured at the crowd, who were eyeing Tavedi’s smoking corpse. “No more time to talk.”
Almost as soon as he said it, a young man broke from the group and hurled himself at Sjogydhu, who promptly fired another shot that drilled through him and into the crowd. The man dropped to the ground choking on his own blood while a woman behind him clutched at the ruins of her shoulder and screamed.
Her scream rippled through the mob, and they charged as one. Jesse held his sword ready as Sjogydhu snapped off another shot, then the crowd was on them. The first to reach them swung a rusty scythe at Sjogydhu, the point sparking against his armor as the guard pivoted to throw a punch in return. Script flared on his gauntlet and the man’s chest turned to bloody pulp.
Jesse’s lips pressed into a line as he moved right to screen Jackie from their advance, but he soon found himself batting away hesitant strikes with his back pressed against the chariot. “Jackie, run!” he shouted. “Back toward the wall!”
There was a no answer but a sharp scream that cutoff midway. He swore under his breath, looking at the terrified, enraged faces around him. A loose half-circle had formed just outside his reach, too scared to draw closer to the foreign giant. Finally, one young man darted forward to swing at him with a hatchet.
Jesse stabbed him in the chest. The man convulsed as the blade slid past his ribs, screaming before his voice guttered out into a dry rasp. His skin turned pale, then black and papery, and the husk that slid from the blade a mere second later looked long-dead. The sword shone with a terrible radiance where it had touched its victim. Cold light pulsed and Jesse felt a hum of power through the grip. Nausea pressed at him as he looked at the dead man. The body looked like a prop, small and shriveled against the beaten surface of the road.
The circle around him expanded abruptly as the mob took a hasty step back, their eyes fixed on the desiccated corpse. Jesse tore his eyes from the body and rushed to the side, toward Jackie. Those few in his path scrambled to clear it, and when he rounded the corner he saw Jackie standing well back from a trio of men armed with pikes.
She and the men were all staring in horror at a pair of legs that cut off just above the knee, smoldering next to a scorched patch of dirt. Remnants of the glyph she had drawn still lingered, fading in the air before her outstretched, trembling hand. Jesse swore and reached out to Jes as he moved to interpose himself between Jackie and the mob.
He felt a wordless acknowledgment. The light from the sword dimmed even as the air around him seemed to brighten. The world bent, and Jesse knew that he was standing at the center. He made eye contact with the man standing closest to him.
The man broke, running for the distant treeline. The remaining members of the mob startled free from their stupor and began to run away across the flats. A blinding line of light reached out and skewered one through the back.
Jesse charged around the corner to confront Sjogydhu, who paused reloading to look at Jesse warily.
“Ah,” Sjogydhu said. “I was wondering what scared them off. That’s a handy trick.” He socketed the crystal and sighted for another shot, only to step back as Jesse batted Sunshine downward.
“They’re running,” Jesse said, gripping Sjogydhu’s arm so tightly he felt the tendons quiver under his fingers. “It’s bad enough that we had to fight them at all, I’m not going to watch you kill them while they retreat.”
Sjogydhu pulled away, stepping back and letting his hand fall from Sunshine. “All right, all right,” he said soothingly. “We have to be on our way anyhow.” He took another look at Jesse, then chuckled. “You might want to do something about that before you get back inside, though.”
His words finally sank through the adrenaline flooding Jesse’s mind, and he stared in confusion before he saw the dancing reflection of light in Sjogydhu’s eyes. Jesse turned to look at the chariot, and in the glass windscreen he saw the reason the mob had run.
Pale flame danced around his head and shoulders, flickering across his brow like a circlet. His eyes shone with the same deadly radiance, although it dimmed even as he watched it.
He heard Jes in his head, sounding faintly amused. Scared them off, she echoed. The flames flared up once, then disappeared.
Jesse stared for a moment longer, then shook himself and went back to where Jackie still stood with her eyes fixed on the smoldering set of legs.
“Jackie,” he whispered urgently, bending down to look in her eyes. “Hey, are you hurt?” He reached down and grabbed her hand. Her fingers were ice-cold, but he touched them for only a second before she jerked her hand away and took a hasty step back. Her eyes roved around wildly before settling on Jesse. Her breathing slowed.
“I’m fine,” she said quietly. Her face twisted as she tilted her head towards the scorchmark in the road. “Stopped him before he got close. He held back when he saw the light, he wasn’t sure what I was doing and then he just-” Her expression slackened, and she looked to the side. “Poof,” she whispered. “Gone.”
Jesse opened the door to the carriage and poked his head in to check for stragglers, then guided Jackie gently inside. “Go back in and sit down,” he said. “We’ll clear the road and keep on going.”
She paused on the step leading in, then turned around with her lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. “I can clear it,” she said, grating out the words. “The log’s too big for you two to lift.”
He gave her an evaluating look. “You sure?” he asked. “You don’t need to-”
She brushed past him and stalked toward the log. Sjogydhu was already standing over it, methodically reducing the wood to slivers with a series of script-enhanced kicks. He looked up as she approached.
“Glad to see you’re not hurt,” he said. “I should have this cleared up soon, go ahead back in the chariot.”
She glared at him. “You’re evil and your country is shit. Get back in your seat or I’ll burn you with the tree.”
Sjogydhu studied her for a moment before raising his hands and walking back to the chariot. He turned to watch as Jackie pulled lines of light from her charge crystal and slowly formed shapes in the air. The scrape of dirt against boots sounded beside him, and he turned his head to see Jesse approaching.
“What happened to her?” he asked quietly.
Jesse rubbed his chin, then let out his breath all at once. “This just… wasn’t what she was practicing for,” he said.
“Never is,” Sjogydhu grunted.
Both men looked on as Jackie completed the glyph and burnt the log to ash.
---
“Well,” Vumo said, raising a thin eyebrow. “That would appear to be everything.”
Mark looked around the gate room, which was empty save for a superfluous number of armored Aesvain glaring at their counterparts on the other side of the gateway. A few stragglers at the far end of the room carried the last of the supply crates towards the valley access. Vumo and Mark stood in front of the arch, and as Mark turned back to Vumo he performed a small double-take.
“Oh, would you look at that,” he said, gesturing to the side. “Tasja, you’ve got a box left behind you. Bring that over here.” Mark kept his eyes on Vumo as Tasja brought the small container over, smiling thinly. He took the container in one hand and withdrew the package containing the focusing lens, turning it over briefly before replacing it and holding the box out toward Vumo.
“Jeez, all this is some pretty useful stuff,” Mark said, flashing a bright smile. “Would have been a shame if you forgot to take it.”
Vumo held his gaze for a second, then returned the smile and stepped back as a guard walked through the gateway to take the box. “I completely agree,” he said. “Please accept my heartfelt thanks for your attention to detail.” He inclined his head slightly, his smile never wavering.
“Anytime,” Mark replied. “You have anything else you want to go over before you get out of our gate room?”
Vumo shook his head. “We received word by twinplate that Sjogydhu and your friends have reached our borders, but there are several days of travel yet before they arrive at Idran Saal. Once they do, we will establish the gateway immediately using the frame we constructed. Our best estimates anticipate an attack within ten days after that, given the enemy’s progress across the Vidim Vai.”
He looked around the room at the halberdiers, who glared stonily back. “I must say,” Vumo continued, “whatever differences I have had with the Aesvain government in the past, I have never had cause to doubt the efficacy or skill of the gold cloaks. We would welcome your presence on the wall, when the time comes.” He gave Mark an inquiring look.
Mark shrugged. “That’s for Jyte to say,” he drawled. “But my guess is that not many Aesvain will come through the gate from our side until you’ve sent through all the ones from yours.”
“Ah, yes,” Vumo said, spreading his hands. “Our guests. We will send them through as soon as possible, of course. I believe you still have the twinplate I provided? We can use that to coordinate once your friends have arrived in Idran Saal.” He turned as if to walk back towards the gate, then paused and gave Mark an appraising look.
“One last thing,” he said. “Twinplates leave out a number of details, so I’m still not quite clear on why your two friends preferred to ride with Sjogydhu rather than waiting here.” His eyes flicked around the room, then settled back on Mark. “They didn’t happen to share their reasons with you, did they?”
Mark gave Vumo a long-suffering look, spreading his hands. “They just really wanted to spend some time with Sjogydhu,” he said. “He’s a nice guy, you know?”
Vumo pursed his lips. “I see,” he said, turning back towards the gateway. “Well, perhaps I can arrange for the opportunity to discuss the matter with them myself.”
“Tell Jesse I said hi!” Mark shouted, waving as Vumo walked across the threshold. The gateway cut off almost immediately after, and Mark let his hand drop. The halberdiers began to disperse, muttering amongst themselves while Tasja hurried up to join Mark.
“What was that about?” he asked breathlessly. “Trouble?”
“Not sure,” Mark replied, bending to lift the keystone from the gateway with a grunt of effort. “Do me a favor and tell Jyte I want to talk with him, though.”
“So there is trouble,” Tasja muttered.
“It’s Vumo,” Mark retorted. “He gets itchy unless he’s plotting something devious. I’m just not sure if he’ll wait for the attack on Idran Saal or try to get us early.”
“He needs us on his side as long as Eryha’s a threat,” Tasja said. “He said as much himself.”
“Yep, he did,” Mark said, looking at the gateway arch. “Real friendly guy. I don’t buy it, though. He’s on our side right up until he doesn’t need us, and he’ll have a move planned. We just need to figure out what that is.”
---
Vumo walked out of the lift and paced slowly down the hallway to his office, thinking back on the meeting with each slow, deliberate footstep. It was mindful and calming, one of the habits he had adopted that kept his thoughts crystal-clear rather than falling into the disorganization and dementia that afflicted so many other asolanemyn.
He found it exceedingly irritating, therefore, when a breathless young guildsman raced up behind him to call his name. He paused, letting none of the irritation reach his face, and turned to fix the young man with a politely curious stare.
The guildsman slid to a stop on the smooth floor in front of him and inclined his head, sloppily. “Apologies, Vumo Ra,” he wheezed. “I was sorting the items from-”
Vumo held a hand up, glancing meaningfully around the hallway before gesturing the man into his office. He shut the door behind him, then paced around to take his seat. “Now,” he said. “Continue.”
“Thank you, Vumo Ra,” the man said, more composed after catching his breath. “I was sorting through the items we retrieved just now and we came across something that wasn’t in the manifest. When I inspected it-” He reached one gloved hand into his pocket and laid a smooth disc of blackstone on the table. It was mirror-polished, but glowing lines stood out from it in mechanically precise script.
“The writing appeared shortly after I picked it up,” the man said nervously. “I don’t believe, ah - it seemed important to give it to you right away.”
Vumo read the short message, paused, then read through it again. Even seated, he heard the footsteps of a slow, deliberate pace in his mind as he considered the text. He looked up at the guildsman.
“Did you read this?” he asked, inclining his head towards the disc.
“Yes, Vumo Ra,” the guildsman said. “I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but it seemed very important.”
Vumo smiled. “Oh, it is,” he said. “Quite important. Do you know who this is from, guildsman…” He gave the man an inquiring look, tilting his head. “Zhotyre Ras, wasn’t it?”
The guildsman flushed, nodding. “Yes, Vumo Ra,” he said, stammering a bit. “I mean, yes, that’s my name. I don’t know who it’s from.”
“Would you care to venture a guess?” Vumo asked, raising an eyebrow.
Zhotyre blinked, frowning. “Vumo Ra, I apologize - I don’t have any idea. One of the Aesvain, perhaps?”
Vumo smiled again, shaking his head slowly. “Oh, no,” he said. “The Aesvain hate me, perhaps more than any man alive. This is not theirs.” He held up the disc. “Tell me, Zhotyre Ras - if you had to make an item of this sort, how would you go about it?”
The guildsman peered at the disc, then leaned back. “Apologies, Vumo Ra - I am only a novice at ruudun. This is far beyond my meager skills to craft.”
“There is no shame in that,” Vumo said. “In fact, an object like this is beyond my skill as well.” He waved it gently in the air, smiling at Zhotyre’s dumbfounded expression. “And the message it bears - when the gateway next opens, stand nearby and out of sight. Frivolous for such a magnificent work, don’t you think?”
Zhotyre’s jaw was working soundlessly. “Vumo Ra,” he said weakly, “do you think that perhaps-”
“Indeed I do,” Vumo said, sliding open a drawer and gently settling the disc inside. “You didn’t mention this to anyone else, did you?”
“No, Vumo Ra,” Zhotyre said emphatically. “And I will not, unless you command it.”
Vumo smiled and stood from his chair, moving around the desk to clap Zhotyre on the shoulder. “Good man,” he said. “You displayed quick thinking, bringing this to me. I believe you are loyal, and trust you to keep silent.” He tightened his grip, and Zhotyre winced.
“So I want you to know that I am truly sorry, Zhotyre Ras,” he whispered, looking into the guildsman’s widening eyes. “For this, even trust is not enough.”
He withdrew his hand, and before Zhotyre could open his mouth to respond there was a flash of light. Vumo walked stiffly over to the window and opened it a crack, letting the scorched smell clear from the room. A silver glint of metal showed from the pile of fine dust sitting on his floor, and he bent down to retrieve a small, innocuous-looking saon drai - gingerly, holding only the edges.
It went back in the drawer next to the glowing tablet. Vumo reclined in his chair, steepling his fingers as he tried to recapture the slow, steady pace of measured thought. Footsteps sounded in perfect time, echoing behind closed eyes.
He smiled.
