Eight 4

Even though the doors to the bridges leading to the neighbors were closed, the house’s leisteila was chilly. There was a stove at the center that Aslishtei was in the process of lighting, while Wensatsu and Krenya went around to light the candle stones. One thing about a family of magicians, there was certainly no shortage of mana.

The room itself took up the whole top floor of the house. A variety of round tables circled the stove, each with colorful cushions around them. Tapestries hung around the room—some from the ceiling and others from the walls—to create pockets of intimacy amid the larger space.

My team prowled through the room to look for anything out of the ordinary, but there was nothing for them to find. My argument with Ikfael had unnerved them, and they needed something helpful to do with their anxious energy.

They wouldn’t be participating in Unity, since the fewer people involved, the smaller the chance of someone slipping up. And I didn’t particularly feel like sharing myself with Aslishtei’s whole family, so it’d be just the two of us.

Apparently, the spell normally took four people to cast and hold, but that was for a room full of peltwei chattering for hours. For Aslishtei and me, the family could cast the spell and then withdraw once it was underway. Besides, it would only be for ten to fifteen minutes tops. Neither Aslishtei nor Ikfael had complained when I’d set a time limit.

That was the plan, at least. Who knew what would happen while under the spell’s effects?

My team finished their inspection and filed out. They’d be nearby, though, if I needed them. Wensatsu and Krenya were also done, having made their way around the room. The two of them wished me a “serene and meaningful Unity” before heading downstairs.

That was the signal for four elders to come upstairs and take positions at each of the leisteila’s cardinal points. I had scanned the peltwei before and did so again, so maybe it wasn’t just my team that had some anxious energy. Still, there was nothing unusual or concerning about the people who’d be casting the spell.

One was Wensatsu’s and Krenya’s mother, named Thesaala. I’d met her previously and remembered her as being affectionate with her daughters. At the moment, though, she looked calm but serious. A stretch of yellow curiosity wound through her spirit. That was true of all the elders.

Aslishtei called over her shoulder to me. “Find a table for us, will you?”

Well, that was an easy enough task. I glanced around and was immediately drawn to the lone table that looked to have been made from black walnut. The wood had been worn down over time, apparently having seen years if not decades of use. It was the granddaddy of tables.

A rascal had etched the words “fly free” onto the surface at some point in the table’s history, so of course I picked that spot for my seat. Finally done with the fire, Aslishtei came over, giving me an odd look along the way.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

She shook her head. “You found my favorite table.”

“Don’t tell me this is your spot.”

“All right, then I won’t,” she replied.

Was that—was it a joke? Was Aslishtei trying to lighten the mood?

My confusion must’ve shown, because she said, “You seem very tense. Please don’t be. The Unity is a good thing, I promise. You will find it comfortable.”

I did my best to keep the skepticism from my face, while inside me, Yuki prepared countermeasures. We’d both become quite adept at hiding over the years.

“I’m ready when you are,” I said.

Aslishtei gestured to the other elders, and they just stood for a while with their eyes closed. Then, they slowly began to raise their arms in unison. The mana in the room began to swirl, and I felt a warmth rise within me that had nothing to do with the fire burning in the stove.

My edges blurred, and my consciousness extended outward. Yuki was present as always, their thoughts adjacent to mine—a warm bubbliness temporarily covered by an alert watchfulness. Their concern for Ikfael was noticeable too, much more intense than they’d earlier let on.

We smiled wryly at each other, because I’d done the same. The uekisheile got to see my own gut-churning concern more clearly.

The two of us encountered Aslishtei across the table. Her anticipation washed over us, as did her surprise at finding Yuki. We felt a fierce protectiveness underneath her surface thoughts. These buried thoughts were as sharp as knives, but those blades weren’t directed at us. They’d been smithed and honed to fight against the people who would enslave her, her family, and her people—economically, culturally, literally.

The peltwei’s history had shaped her, and she’d learned to seize the opportunities as they’d arisen to strengthen the peltwei’s position within the city. That was what I had been to her—a chance to bring a bold, new talent into her family.

I’d be punished by the land knight, no matter what, so it was only a question of where I and the other hunters from Voorhei would go. What was the other option—to speak up on behalf of the hunters who’d let the North Wind’s killer loose? Ridiculous. No, it was already good enough to approach the situation without malice. She’d even tried to be fair, paying a price that should have let my lodge escape the worst of Knight Ithia’s judgement.

Only, the machinations of the Healer’s Lodge had spoiled Aslishtei’s plans. And then there had been the Tournament of Masks. That was when she had realized she’d made a terrible mistake—behaving as the peltwei’s enemies had, doing her all to bring me under her control, when it would have been so much more beneficial to recruit a friendly ally.

Life had taught Aslishtei to jump at the opportunities it presented, and she steeled herself now—in the presence of our Unity—to make clear her understanding of how her greed and sorrow had blinded her. It wasn’t exactly remorse, but an acknowledgement that we’d deserved better. Like how the peltwei deserved better.

Aslishtei seemed to be actively turning herself transparent, so that we could see into the depths of that understanding. Not everything was visible, but the things being hidden didn’t appear to be related to me or the events from eight years ago.

Then, the will that had kept Alsishtei’s curiosity in check faded, and she was all over Yuki—the realization dawning that I did not in fact have a second set of meridians. Instead, there was a highly intelligent, funny, observant, and friendly symbiote living inside me.

There was such a look of disappointment on her face! Amazement too at what Yuki and I were capable of. No wonder I was so talented—a centuries-old intelligence had been guiding my training. Yet that feeling was overshadowed by dismay, because she really had hoped to breed a second set of meridians into her family.

Still, the symbiote was an expert in qi, and that was a wonder in itself. What else were they capable of? And at that thought of hers, Yuki withdrew and pulled the land that was me over themselves. The effect wasn’t as all-encompassing or effective as the Hollow Night spell, but it did signal to Aslishtei that she’d treaded too closely.

Give her credit, Aslishtei pulled back. She reined in her curiosity and let herself sit in our presence to allow the three of us to become accustomed to each other. She’d had no goals for how we’d spend our Unity other than to impress upon us her sincerity. Now that she’d done that, we could just relax.

All the while, I’d tucked away my concerns and had only shown the thoughts related to Alsishtei and her family. My distaste had already been blunted by my experiences with Weni and Anya over the years. A family that produced such children couldn’t be all bad.

Aslishtei was lucky to have them. If not for her nieces, I might have attempted a petty revenge of some sort. Nothing heinous, of course. I’d worked hard to temper the angry part of me, but it still slipped free sometimes. In my old—

And then it was my turn to slip into the land, to step back from Unity to get my thoughts in order. I carefully made them milder by focusing on the sensations induced by the spell; it felt like by being surrounded by a warm breeze.

All in all, the spell lasted for about fifteen minutes, diminishing at the end as gently as it had begun. Unity returned me to my usual borders.

Afterward, Aslishtei cleared her throat. “Normally, we peltwei talk during Unity, the words completing the connections between us, yet you didn’t seem to need it at all.”

“My friend Yuki and I are used to navigating the challenges of consciousnesses meeting together.”

“Is that so?” Aslishtei said, but it seemed more like a gap-filler than a real question. She was probably processing what she’d learned from Unity, just as I was.

For me, it was the understanding that Aslishtei wasn’t some terrible villain. Eight years ago, she’d merely done what was expected of her, both as a land soldier and the head of her family. The only action she might’ve taken that would’ve actually helped me and the other Voorhei hunters was to advise the land knight to disallow a trial in absentia. In hindsight, that really had been the extent of her transgression. It had been just my anger at the time clouding things.

Looking at her now, I could see the speculation in her eyes. “You made a promise,” I reminded her.

“The things I learned today will stay with me,” Alsishtei replied. “I understand why you would keep your Yuki a secret. A hidden ally, a secret knife, this world of striving we live in demands it.”

“That it does,” I said, understanding her all too well.

The Unity spell had done its job. While I didn’t think I’d ever trust Aslishtei fully, it had helped me set aside the bad blood between us.

###

Back downstairs, Aslishtei and I were the subjects of intense curiosity, but she simply announced that the expedition would continue as planned. All was well between her family and the Voorhei Hunter’s Lodge.

My teammates, meanwhile, got a fuller explanation thanks to the Yuki network. As for Ikfael, public knowledge of her participation in the race wouldn’t benefit either her or the expedition, so it would be kept secret and only shared on a need-to-know basis, even within Aslishtei’s family.

My team and I were urged to stay longer—to sit in the front parlor and enjoy a cup of hot chole while chatting with the various family members who’d been excluded from dinner. They’d heard so much about us from Weni, Anya, and Teila, and they wanted to meet us themselves. They were a curious bunch, for sure.

We were well into the evening by the time we left, the moon high in the sky. She hid behind patchy clouds resembling brush strokes, like someone had used the heavens as their canvas. The streets glowed softly in the filtered light.

The air was nippy and welcome after the intensity of what I’d experienced. Ikfael was back in her figurine, the team around me—we were departing just as we’d arrived, although clearly changed by what had happened.

I felt the team’s concern surrounding me; their well wishes were whispered into my mind. Yet, I wanted time to process, and they gave me the space for it.

Obviously, the relationship with Aslishtei and her family would improve moving forward, but my thoughts were a jumble trying to figure out how to deal with what I’d learned about Ikfael and myself. Thinking about how I’d made her feel, my face got hot and scratchy, and my fingertips felt of pins and needles.

Two notifications quietly dinged.

The skill Relationships has increased from 9 to 10.

The skill Strategy has increased from 7 to 8.

I nearly tripped over my own feet. The bump in Relationships made sense given the evening’s events, but Strategy was a surprise.

Underlying the skill were countless memories of strategy and table top games. There were also all the times I’d organized documentary shoots, as well as the meticulous planning that had gone into hunting, both in my old world and this new one.

In the bulk of these memories, I either led the way or had a strong role to play in determining the strategy. Collaboration was a hallmark of my leadership style, so I’d worked with others a lot. What I noticed, though—the thing that was different—was the brand-spanking-shiny-new experience of having to keep my faith in someone-above-me’s plans.

There’d been only a few times in the past when I’d been purely a follower. As a child in my first family, sure. The early days in construction and on set, also yes. But I’d learned very little of Strategy at those times. In fact, I’d gone out of my way to disregard the petty tyrant-hood of those early leaders so that I could forge a new path for myself.

I hadn’t realized it before, but this experience of following Ikfael’s lead based purely on trust was… unprecedented. That was actually hard to believe, so I asked Yuki to help with searching through my memories, and there turned out to be some—all of them dealing with the lodge’s hunts. Yet in each of those instances, the plans had been fully shared and I’d known I could say something to change them if I’d felt the need.

In trusting Ikfael this time, I didn’t have all the facts, and Strategy-Sensei was telling me that that was sometimes a necessary facet of a good plan.

I didn’t like the feeling, and I grumbled about it in my mind the rest of the way to the inn.

###

The next morning, the spark of hope in Ikfael’s eyes lingered. She seemed more energetic too and joked with my team about the various uses for an exploding Maltran. It was dark as hell, but I didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt the laughter.

Once the joking died down, Ikfael officially acknowledged that the exchange from the previous evening was concluded and the light we’d taken from the Maltrans was mine. There was enough to push me up a level, but absorbing the light from people was different than from other creatures. I needed to fast and pray beforehand—a matter of respect for the dead and also a way to increase the likelihood of insights and other gains.

The rest of my meetings were scheduled for the next day, so I skipped breakfast and settled in to meditate. I found a sunny spot by the window, and Snow curled up beside me, her warm body against mine. She’d agreed on an IOU for her share of the light, so I’d be able to take all of the approximately forty-five hundred-silverlight we’d collected.

As for the darklight, my team planned on an outing to browse the markets and would sell it on my behalf. Mumu took Ikfael’s figurine with her, so that the spirit of the land wouldn’t be stuck indoors.

As I sat there, my mind just wouldn’t settle down. Ikfael was like a lodestone to my thoughts, a constant draw to my worries and… my sense of loss.

Diaksha was incredibly brutal, but this world had given me magic in return. A new family too, friends I was willing to die for, and the prospect of seeing more of what it had to offer. Once I was powerful enough, I envisioned a proper adventure. Yet, apparently that wasn’t to be. Two of my dreams were in conflict—a life with Ikfael versus the opportunity to explore the world—and I’d had to choose between them.

More than that, the pursuit of power would eventually demand that I go farther afield in search of opportunities to grow. I’d done well so far thanks to the creatures drawn to the Glen, but there’d come a day when that wouldn’t be enough—not with Yuki and I splitting the gains. Once I hit Level 9, we’d evenly share any silverlight absorbed.

To become silvered, we’d each need thirty-thousand additional silverlight, and another a hundred thousand each to hit Level 15. I couldn’t see either of us doing that by sticking to the Glen.

Truly, my meditations that morning were uneasy, my thoughts occupied. And when I prayed, the gods and ancestors were silent.

###

‘We’re returning now,’ Mumu messaged through Yuki. ‘From only about a quarter-eisqilm away,’

I hear you, and everything’s ready on this end, I replied. We can get started as soon you’re back.

In front me, the silverlight rested in a pine box padded with wool that had been dyed blue. Folded paper was used to keep the pieces from different people separated. Around the box, I’d laid out cushions for my team to join me for the ceremony. Snow was already on hers, lightly snoozing.

The time on my Status clock read 2:06 pm. I’d already been sitting with the silverlight for the past couple of hours, watching it glint in the afternoon sun and thinking about the people who would soon contribute to my growth as a hunter.

Not much longer now, I thought, and right on schedule—after about ten minutes—Mumu clapped to announce her and the team’s arrival. So, I gave Snow a quick pet to wake her up and then let them in.

As the other hunters took their seats, I asked, “All’s well?”

“Well enough,” Mumu replied. “We picked up additional supplies—spearheads, rope, and the like—but we’ll go over the full list later. How were things here?”

“So-so,” I said, retaking my own seat. “It was hard to focus.”

Mumu nodded, as did the others around the circle. They’d all been there last night and knew exactly why.

“People are always the hardest,” Tegen said. “In the wilds, you know where you stand, but dealing with your own kind—what they offer and what they want in return—is more complicated.”

“A truth,” Haol said.

Mumu eyed her husband. “You make it sound like every day is a struggle.”

Haol cleared his throat. “My home life is a delight. I’m talking about other people.”

“Joking aside,” Mumu said. “A hunter neglects the truth at their peril. You must be able to see clearly at all times, and that includes those aspects of yourself you find unappealing. If you don’t know who you are, then you won’t know what you can do. You will make mistakes that would’ve otherwise been avoidable, and you won’t know how to improve yourself along the Path to Perfection.”

“A hunter’s most prized quarry is the truth,” Teila said.

Mumu reached over to rub the young hunter’s head. “Very much so. Now, is there anything else needing to be said before we begin our prayers?”

The others shook their heads, so as one we turned our attention to the silverlight between us. The work had already been completed. All that was left was a short prayer for the dead—an expression of gratitude even though they’d been enemies—and then it was time to begin.