Eight 4

Before we set out for Albei the next morning, the master of the Farmer’s Lodge found me and requested an update on what they could expect over the next ten days. I told him the weather would be mostly clear, with a few patchy clouds moving in. The spirits that had been gathering to the east continued to do so, however, and while there was still no rain in the forecast, it would be only a matter of time. The farmers should get ready for a doozy of a storm.

A handful of villagers also had business in the city, so they took advantage of the opportunity to travel with us. And since we were following the road, we went as one group. The hunters ranged slightly ahead, while the others followed behind. That trailing group consisted of the villagers, Wensatsu and Krenya, and the sisters’ bodyguards.

On four separate occasions, I sent Snow to scout a disturbance in the woods ahead of us, but none of them turned out to be anything serious. The journey was as smooth as I’d ever experienced it, like the forest was on its best behavior. I wished I could’ve enjoyed it more, but my thoughts weighed on me the whole time. Still, I did my job, and eventually Albei came into view.

The city walls were fifty feet tall and worse for wear from the damage done to them during the last Long Dark. Several sections looked to have been gouged, with long furrows running through them as if they’d been made of soap instead of stone. According to the reports I’d heard, a couple of kaiju-sized kalesks had attacked on the fifth day.

Normally, the walls would’ve been repaired by now, but the city’s Earth-Touched were apparently prioritizing the buildings inside. The kalesks had made it into the city and wreaked havoc.

The land soldiers manning the gate looked weary, but the line to get in wasn’t too long. They ran us through the customs process, and while Mumu, Haol, and I all triggered the mankiller-detection system, we were known and were released after a brief interview.

Once we were through, the damage to the city became even more apparent. There used to be a caravanserai across from the gate, a place for travelers and their beasts of burden to rest after the long journey to Albei, but a corner of the inn had given way and the stables were crushed. Farther down the street, I saw more scars left by the fighting.

In addition, the coppery scent of blood hung oppressively over the city. It must’ve been going on for some time too, because many of the residents wore masks.

A hawker nearby sold them and called out, “The finest cotton, scented with the essence of wildflowers, only a half-taak each!”

Snow yowled in distress, and I didn’t blame her either. The scent of blood really was overwhelming.

Wensatsu walked up to where we stood, and I noticed that she had a small mask covering her nares, the avian equivalent of nostrils at the base of her beak. She must’ve had it stored in her pack.

“The smell gets worse the closer you get to the Butchery,” she said. “The scent-suppression magic embedded into the plaza stones was broken, and a hundred years of odors is leaking from them. The enchantments need to be re-embedded before the situation will improve.”

“How many people did you lose?” I asked.

Wensatsu followed my gaze to the ruined caravanserai. “To the kalesks? Fortunately, only about fifty. We saw them coming and had time to evacuate the residents in the way.”

“That’s still a lot,” I said, observing the ghosts lingering in the area.

“It is,” Wensatsu said, “but also not, considering how bad it could’ve been. The colossi weren’t element-touched. They only had their brute strength and the uncanny sharpness of their claws—no flames, upturned earth, or poison gasses.”

I nodded. Any of those things would’ve been a true nightmare in a population center as dense as Albei. It was why the people fought so hard to keep the monsters outside the walls.

A brief dip into the land brought me a sense of the city—the unruly mixture of chaos and order that was Albei. Whatever the tragedies that had happened during the Long Dark, the residents had gone right back to work afterward. They strove to succeed, to become rich, to make a name for themselves, to grow in power, to follow their paths to perfection.

“The work continues,” I said.

“It does,” Wensatsu replied. “The city is as busy as ever, and more and more creatures are brought here for butchering and distribution. The scent of blood just gets thicker as a result.”

Teila wrinkled her nose and said, “It’s awful.”

“That’s an understatement,” I added. “And the smell’s probably even worse at our lodge, since it sits in the middle of the Butchery’s plaza.”

“What’s the status of the repairs to the enchantment?” Tegen asked.

“Non-existent,” Wensatsu said. “We don’t have artisans qualified to do the work here in Albei, so we’re waiting on a contract with Sugrusu Hakei.”

By then, the villagers who’d traveled with us had also passed through customs. They walked over to thank us for the escort and bid their farewells. They had their own destinations in Albei, and we wished them well in their endeavors.

Once they’d gone, Krenya said, “We should get going too. Do you want to buy masks now or later?”

“Why suffer?” Haol asked in return. There were six in his hands. He must’ve bought them while the villagers had distracted us.

The scent of flowers was cloying when I put mine on, but it was better than the alternative. Snow thought so too. Her face scrunched up, but she didn’t fight Haol adjusting the mask on her face. Also, the sight was damn cute—a grown man putting a mask on a blynx.

I made sure to make a note of the moment. It was part of the sweetness of life, a balance to the bitter.

“Are we staying at the Ten Point?” Teila wondered.

“The inn’s right at the Butchery plaza’s boundary,” Tegen reminded her.

“But the innkeepers will be disappointed,” Teila said.

“Not as much as my nose would be,” Haol replied.

“Agreed,” Mumu said. “We’ll stay elsewhere tonight. The Ten Point will just have to do without our Eight’s culinary prowess this time.”

“Somehow I think they’ll live,” I said, then Snow followed up with a yowl. Even with the mask, the scent of blood in the air was still distracting.

“You could stay with us,” Krenya suggested. “Our house has guestrooms, and we won’t know how many days or weeks it will be until the race’s starting location is announced—”

I interrupted her: “We’d prefer not to be a burden on your house. Besides the Ten Point would be disappointed…”

Haol waved his hand, gesturing to the air. “Might I remind you of the smell?”

“Another inn, then,” I said.

“Another inn,” Mumu repeated. “But we will not use their kitchen nor make it known that Ikfael is staying with us. Those honors belong to the Ten Point in return for their generosity over the years.”

“But—” Krenya started.

Her sister placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and said, “It’s all right. They don’t wish to trouble our house nor be troubled by it.”

Mumu nodded gratefully to Wensatsu. “We will find a place close by, so that we can consult easily. And we will maintain readiness to leave at a moment’s notice.”

“There are many inns in Geista, but not any owned by peltwei,” Krenya said, frowning.

Wensatsu began to walk, gesturing for everyone else to follow. “Any peltwei visiting know they can stay with our families. Why pay if they don’t have to?”

“True, true,” Krenya said. “It was just a thought, but the question remains—where will our friends stay?”

Tegen replied, “Anywhere will be fine, as long as the rooms are clean and our privacy respected.”

“And the walls undamaged,” I remarked as we passed by the caravanserai.

###

The road from the west gate led directly to the Butchery’s plaza, so the smell got worse before it got better. Fortunately, the city’s main thoroughfare, the Albeitsoot, ran relatively close to the walls here, and we were able to divert away from the plaza after only a few minutes’ walk. We headed northeast; the plan was to circle through the city—first through the Nathta district and then into Geista.

The farther we traveled from the Butchery, the less damage we saw on the surrounding buildings. Wensatsu explained that the colossal kalesks had mostly attacked from the southwest and southeast. There were many more ruined residences, warehouses, and shops in those directions.

Earlier in the year, Uncle Kila, the merchant representing me, had sent a message saying that his family had safely weathered the Long Dark. Their compound was located at the boundary between the two southern districts—Scathta and Taakta—but outside the paths taken by the colossal kalesks.

He’d be upset if I didn’t visit him while I was in Albei. Hmm… so would my other allies in the city.

Like reciting a list, Yuki mentioned, ‘Iseld, Crunei’s Garden, Aunt Tulu, the alchemists, the soldiers.’

Some of those meetings promised to be fun, while others were a matter of pure practicality. Which was fine. Really. Business relationships were still relationships—they needed time and attention to flourish. I’d make the rounds, even if I didn’t feel like it. Work took work, after all. There was no avoiding it.

Once we decided on an inn, I’d send messengers and try to arrange everything within the next couple of days; the sooner the better to free up flexibility for the race. I also still needed to smooth things over with Ikfael, but that was a thornier problem. I couldn’t help my gut tightening just thinking about.

Other than Yuki, Ikfael was my most dependable, my most important, friend. I’d had a day to think about it, and I’d realized that I’d broken a point of trust between us. In hindsight, it was obvious—our dear otter had abandonment issues, and I’d blundered straight into them.

But how would I reconcile that with my need to maintain my autonomy from the two heavyweight spirits currently in conflict? That was the ten-thousand-taak question.

###

Wensatsu led us to an inn called the Horn of Welcome. Their sign out front displayed a conch in blues and pinks, and the interior was clean, including the kitchen when I ducked inside for peek. The staff were a mix of nisaak and “regular” humans, and accommodating to boot. They said it was okay for Snow to use their yard out back to take care of her business.

As for the price, it didn’t matter. We were now officially on the clock, so Aslishtei’s family would be footing all our reasonable expenses until the end of the race. The sisters put down a deposit for our stay, then left immediately to arrange the meeting with their aunt.

The rooms upstairs were on the small side—furnished with a couple of narrow beds, each paired with a footlocker for storage—but the windows had some of the clearest glass I’d ever seen since coming to this world. The team’s family members bunked together, so Teila was with me, and we had a view looking over the street. Mumu and Haol were across the hall, while Tegen occupied a room adjacent to them, all on his lonesome.

Ikfael emerged from her figurine and seemed to be okay hanging out, content with looking out our room’s window to watch the people passing by. The crowds in Albei tended to be eclectic, which was doubly true for Geista. The “lost” peoples who made the district their home added an even greater diversity to the mix of Albei’s rough and tumble residents.

I was reluctant to leave, but I had things to do, and it was clear from Ikfael’s body language that she was peopled-out. So, while Teila popped over to Mumu’s and Haol’s room, I went downstairs to talk to the innkeepers.

The first thing I did was to arrange for a handful of messengers. The second was to decline the innkeeper’s kind offer of the use of their kitchen.

Typically, whenever Ikfael had traveled previously with my team on dangerous hunts, I’d made deals with her, exchanging meals for her help. This time, though, she would be dealing with Wensatsu and Krenya.

As I waited for the messengers to return, I sat in the Horn of Welcome’s common room and sipped at an herbal tea. The blend tasted of thyme and mint, but I knew for a fact that thyme wasn’t available anywhere nearby. If the cooks at the Horn knew of a good substitute, I might be able to surprise Ikfael with something new and different.

‘That would also be a good way to start another food trend,’ Yuki said.

It’d disappoint the staff at the Ten Point, I remarked.

‘This is a truth,’ Yuki replied, ‘but you’ve already given them so many recipes. Would they hold it against you?’

You know the answer to that as well as I do, I thought. Of course, they would.

‘People get used to the status quo,’ Yuki said. ‘They assume the benefits they receive will last forever.’

But that’s not how life works. The only constant is change, right?

‘There are patterns that emerge, though,’ Yuki said.

Are we trading truths now? I asked.

‘Always,’ they said, their qi shimmering with a smile.

I returned the feeling, but my mind quickly drifted back to wondering about the source of the thyme-like flavor. I’d love to know the source; it’d make for a delicious pork shoulder. Maybe braised in a broth with tomatoes, peppers, and oregano?

‘We think you need to find a way to make that happen,’ Yuki said.

Me too. I’m sure Ikfael would enjoy it, and… I miss the flavor. I really did too—there was enough of the thyme flavor in the tea for it to be nostalgic. It’d be so easy to wallow in the feeling, so I gave myself a couple of light slaps on the cheeks. What am I doing? I should be preparing for my meetings.

‘They’re all social calls, except for the one with Aslishtei. And even there, it’s Ikfael’s show to run, not yours.’

I snorted. Is a meeting with Crunei’s Garden ever purely social? What about Iseld the Stone-Horned Ox? Every time I walk out of Albei’s pyramid, I feel like I have to check to make sure my skin is still intact.

‘See, there you go,’ Yuki said. ‘You’ve had tons of experience with these people. Everything will be okay. Besides, if you get into trouble, we’ll be there with you.’

That’s a comfort and always will be, I thought. Then aloud: “Now if only those messengers would hurry up.”

###

While I waited, Mumu and Teila came downstairs to discuss the various meetings we'd be attending. Then a little later, Haol and Tegen brought me upstairs so that I could give them each a portion of Yuki. That way, we could all stay in touch.

Since I was there, I also decided to check on Ikfael, but she was still at the window, lost in pensive thought. It didn’t look like she even noticed me until I asked if everything was all right.

“I am,” she signed.

“Can I bring you anything?” I asked. “Maybe something to nibble on?”

But she shook her head in reply. “I’ll wait for the meeting with Aslishtei.”

My heart clenched a bit to see her disengaged. “Listen, I wonder if we can talk…”

“I’d rather not,” Ikfael signed. “I must focus on what I need to do and don’t want to be distracted.”

“What is it? I’d like to help.”

“I know you do,” Ikfael signed, but she left it that, turning back to the window.

Walking back downstairs, I couldn’t help thinking that this argument, this fight between Ikfael and me, was serious. She’d never turned down food before, and I’d noticed how the way she’d been referring to me had changed.

When she’d talked with others, I was no longer “our Eight.” Instead, I’d become “this Eight” or “your Eight.”

We’d never argued like this before, so I didn’t know if it was typical of her or not. Then it occurred to me that Ikfael had probably never fought with a loved one before, ever. Well, maybe when Ikiira had been a teenager over two hundred years ago, but in recent memory? She wouldn’t have had anyone to argue with. Certainly not Heleitia who only showed up once a year.

She’s probably trying to figure this out as she’s going, and that thought made me feel better. I could help with the process and talk her through what a healthy disagreement looked like, sounded like, and felt like. I can lure… I can bring her to the table with the offer of a braised pork shoulder and then we can talk. I’ll explain the dynamics to her, and we’ll find a way to make things right again.

Yuki’s qi sparkled in approval. ‘This is how it is with family. We find ways to make ourselves whole again.’

Healthy families, I clarified. Not everyone—

‘Yes, yes,’ Yuki interrupted. ‘You knew what we meant; we were talking about us and Ikfael.’

I know. It’s just that I’ve seen both unhealthy and healthy, and it’s important to be clear that some relationships should end.

‘Just not ours with Ikfael,’ Yuki said.

Agreed. Never that one. Then, in the back of my mind, in a voice too small for Yuki to hear, the damned part of me that always seemed to recognize the realities of life added, Not if we can help it.