Eight 4.14: The City of Blood II

Back downstairs, I visited the washroom twice while waiting for the messengers. The mystery herb clearly possessed mild diuretic properties—not enough to trigger a condition in my Status, though, so it wouldn’t stop me from drinking the tea or using it in my cooking. The flavor would be one that Ikfael had never tasted before.

Eventually, I made my way to the inn’s kitchen to question the staff about the source, and it turned out to be a plant called drunkard’s ease which was normally valued for its roots, used in some kind of hangover cure. The cooks confirmed the stems were edible, though, but only if picked fresh. Apparently, drying any parts of the herb to keep them long term made them bitter. They only happened to have some on hand because another patron had needed the hangover cure earlier that morning.

Drunkard’s ease could be found growing wild in any of the parks located throughout the city, including a sizeable one here in Geista. That was where the cooks had gone to pick some. Other options were the two big parks in Taakta or any of the smaller parks located throughout the city, really. Apparently, volunteers early in Albei’s history had seeded all the green spaces with the herb so that they wouldn’t have to travel far to get some.

I learned that the stems of drunkard’s ease were most flavorful when the plant was picked at night and the air was cool. If I stopped by the park after the meeting with Aslishtei, I should be able to gather some then.

The inn’s staff were kind enough to sketch me a picture, so between that and my Status camera, I shouldn’t have any problems locating the herb. My plans for a special meal for Ikfael were beginning to firm up.

I asked the inn’s staff to procure some potatoes, squash, and the shoulder of a small javelina for me—nice and fatty, with about four to five pounds of meat on it.

###

The messengers slowly trickled in one-by-one.

The majority of Crunei’s Garden were currently out of the city on a job, with Crost still in Dolbec’s Rock for his apprenticeship. I sent that messenger back with my regrets and expressed my desire to visit another time, when the family was in Albei again.

My contacts at the Alchemist’s Lodge were likewise occupied. Most notable among them was Ereinwa who had prepared the golden slumber we’d once harvested. She begged my understanding and asked for a meeting in two days’ time; that was the soonest she could get free.

Aunt Tulu’s crew was also in high demand at the moment, up to their eyebrows with work. That said, as long as I didn’t mind having lunch in a construction zone, I was welcome to come by anytime.

Ossul, the master of the Soldier’s Lodge, invited me to a special training session for their elite members. Unfortunately, it was scheduled for that evening, the same time we were hoping to meet with Aslishtei. In return, I asked for a breakfast chat in two days. Assuming he was free then, I’d be able to stack my meetings and get them over with in one go.

Iseld, of course, had to be different. The messenger I’d sent to Albei’s pyramid reported that she wanted a half day all to herself—beginning with lunch, proceeding into a lengthy consultation on the Path to Perfection, followed by dinner and an evening of light entertainment.

The whole thing sounded tiresome until the messenger also handed over a sealed letter which was supposed to be the official invitation to all of above but which actually read, I heard that the Hierophant visited our Honored Ikfael’s shrine. Be careful around him; he is a man of obsessions. Decline most of my invitation if you must, but meet with me. I can make time as early as tomorrow.

Well, that sounded… ominous. Then again, the pyramid in Albei was a snake pit, the factions struggling with each other, their members attempting to claw their way into positions of privilege and power. It made sense, then, that Iseld might have some strong feelings about the hierophant.

We should still meet with her, Yuki said. Probably sooner than later.

I agree. Xefwen seemed like nothing more than an ass, but we need to be careful of anyone with that kind of power—personal and political.

###

Wensatsu arrived after all the messengers had come and gone. Immediately, I noticed that her spirit was more agitated than usual, like she’d just come from a battle or… an argument. She immediately headed toward where I sat.

A few other patrons were nearby, but they’d recognized me as the keeper of Ikfael’s shrine and left a buffer between them and me. Sharp ears would still pick up anything said, but it was a respectful gesture—nothing wrong with that.

Wensatsu plopped down into the cushion across from me and let a little of her unhappiness leak into her voice. “I’m sorry it took so long, but arrangements have finally been made for you to join my family for dinner tonight.”

“Things didn’t go as smoothly as you’d hoped?” I asked.

The question wasn’t rude exactly, but it was nosey. Wensatsu barely gave it a second thought, though. “Something like that. You know my aunt has strong opinions.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “That’s a truth.”

“It is,” Wensatsu said, a hint of a smile revealing itself at the edges of her beak. Her spirit settled a little too, and she took a moment to look around. “Our guest is upstairs? Your team too?”

I nodded. “They are. We are holding ourselves ready, as we said we would.”

“You are a man of your word,” Wensatsu said. “I appreciate that about you—you and your team. There’s a respect for the commitments you make, which is not as common as it should be.”

“Our Uncle Kila likes to say that trust is the lifeblood of business,” I said.

“A wise man,” she said.

“A sharp one too,” I added.

Her smile flickered back to life, then faded again. “We should let our guest know about tonight. Will arriving at dusk be all right? You know the house?”

“Dusk should be fine; we don’t have any plans until tomorrow. As for where to go, Teila knows the way.”

Of all the members of our lodge, Teila was the closest to Wensatsu and Krenya. Aslishtei’s nieces were a few years older, but still close enough in age for friendly bonds to have formed. My hunt sister had visited them several times over the years, sometimes staying over for days at a time.

If it hadn’t been for the honest affection and friendship between the three of them, I would’ve worried. Hells, who was I kidding? I still worried, since I knew just how manipulative Aslishtei could be. Even if the nieces were genuine, they could still be used as tools to get closer to my family and through them to me.

Coming to Albei often felt like participating in a big game of cat and mouse. And at Level 8, I was still a mouse. A particularly thorny, ferocious, well-connected one maybe, but still a mouse.

###

Dusk light slanted across the city of Albei, casting long shadows across its streets. The wind had picked up, cool and carrying hints of woodsmoke from the surrounding homes. It brushed away the scent of blood temporarily.

People hurried along, wrapped in their cloaks and shawls, either heading home after a day’s work or looking to finish their work so that they could head home. When my team had left the Horn, its common room was just starting to buzz with patrons.

My team was on its own way to dinner. Snow walked close beside me, a clear indicator that she was “tame.” Ikfael was in her figurine, not wanting to make her presence in the city public. The others walked in a loose circle around us. We’d dressed up for the occasion, although we carried our weapons too. As hunters, we had that leeway. No packs, though, and I had to wear Ikfael’s figurine on a cord like an oversized necklace.

Pacing my team along the rooftops, on opposite sides of the street, were a couple of hidden watchers—one from the healers, the other from the hunters. Their presence was nothing alarming, just business as usual in Albei. Whenever the two lodges learned of me visiting the city, they both always sent someone to keep an eye on my activities. It’d gotten to the point where I’d learned most of their names and talents too.

To my right and about thirty paces behind was Hutwa the Solemn, a scout-sworn on the healer’s side. Actually, if I recalled correctly, he was the first hidden watcher I’d ever spotted from their lodge.

Yuki kindly confirmed that memory for me. Hutwa had shown up after the first assassination attempt on my life.

As for the hunter, I didn’t know her. She must’ve been new, and not as experienced as the usual crew, I noted. Surely, they hadn’t sent a novice? As I watched her Camouflage slip a little, I revised that opinion. They really had. The more skilled folks must be out hunting Maltrans.

Fortunately, all either side did was watch. Things had settled down quite a lot after the first few years of the Tournament of Masks, when Ithia had made it clear that she wouldn’t tolerate any further transgressions of the peace. Still, a little paranoia was warranted, so I kept my spirit eyes open, just in case.

The trip itself was short, only about twenty minutes from the Horn to the cul-de-sac in which Aslishtei’s family lived. Her house was at the far end, four-stories tall and with bridges connecting it to the peltwei family homes to either side. All the homes in the cul-de-sac were like that, nine in total.

Chimes hung from the bridges, their soft melodies at odds with the memories I held from the last time I’d visited a peltwei neighborhood. My team and I had hunted down Borba in a cul-de-sac just like this one, only farther east, deeper into Geista. That had been a terrible day, followed by several more in short order. Things eventually turned out okay, but it was years and a lot of hard work in the doing.

Teila led the way. Aslishtei’s place really did look just like all the others. The only things that distinguished it were the engravings—butterflies on a set of double doors, surrounded by snake traveling around the casing. The artwork was lovely, and chilling too if you happened to know what Alsishtei’s summons were capable of. The snake could bind and suffocate, while the butterflies released a powder that dissolved flesh.

A clapper lay on a stand beside the door for guests to announce themselves. There was a bit of etiquette wrangling then as my team figured out who should be the one to use them. Teila had been a guest here before and was a friend of the house, while Ikfael was the most important person among us and I was her representative.

Eventually, the clapper was handed over to me, and I used it twice, calling out, “I am Eight, hunter and keeper of Honored Ikfael’s shrine, here with a team of hunters for business with the head of this house.”

The door opened only moments later—no waiting games were played, thankfully—and shock of all shocks, it was Aslishtei herself who opened it. She wore a silk robe, white with black and green trim, over a woolen gown in a brown as rich as sable fur. Gold adorned her neck, wrists, and fingers. The feathers along her left side of her face had a gold pin among them studded with what looked like malachite.

Aslishtei the Wise (Human, Peltwei, Dawn)
Talents: Someday Magician, Hoop Dreams, If You Build It, Likes ’Em Shiny
Nascent Talents: Collector of Mysteries

“Well, this is an honor,” I said.

“The honor is ours,” Aslishtei replied. “Please enter and become our guest.”

A house this size had a dedicated parlor, and it looked like the whole family was present to greet us—about twenty-three people in total. I couldn’t help myself—my training came to the fore, and I quickly scanned through them, my Status camera click-click-clickingin my head. I’d known it already, but it really was amazing to see how everyone present had a talent for magic.

And there, at the back, were the three survivors of the North Wind’s family. They were young adults now and healthy too; the damage to their meridians appeared to have been fully healed. As for their spirits…sadness pervaded them. Likely, my team and I were a reminder of the devastating losses they’d suffered at Borba’s hands. Hopefully, time would continue to work its magic.

In my mind and heart, I wished the youngsters well. Three times, I wished them well.

Alsishtei must’ve noticed my eyes lingering, because she stepped between us. “We have prepared a dinner we hope will be suitable. Will Honored Ikfael be joining us?”

In her figurine, Ikfael’s spirit gazed unhappily at the crowded room. “Not with so many people present, I think. She was perhaps hoping for a smaller gathering.”

Aslishtei nodded as if unsurprised. “Then it will be so.”

She led the way across a thick, buttery-yellow rug, the kind that cries out to be walked on barefoot. The pattern was geometric, seemingly at odds with how plush it was, but the nearby cushions were so soft and colorful they softened the impact.

The dining room was on the second floor, up a staircase whose steps and banister were made of mahogany. In fact, I noted that the cabinets, frames around paintings, and tables were all of mahogany. The reddish-brown timber leant a warmth to each of the spaces we passed through. That seemed the overall design of the house’s interior—boldness and softness combined.

The dining room table had place settings for ten, with a generous amount of space between each of them. Decanters for tea and plum wine were already laid out, as were small plates of fried, seasoned potatoes.

Aslishtei gestured toward the table’s far end. “For our honored guest.”

There was a card in front of the seat that read, Honored Ikfael. To the right was a card with my name on it and on the left, Mumu’s. The rest of the team was distributed around the table, along with Wensatsu, Krenya, and Snow of all things. The blynx got her own cushion and place setting.

Feeling anxious about how accommodating Aslishtei was being, I checked the room for Bright Blue and Little Red, yet there was no sign of the songbird summons who let her hear and see true. Wasn’t she being too trusting? While we weren’t enemies, we weren’t friends either.

Ikfael appeared out of the figurine with a whoosh, and everyone present bowed as she took her seat at the table. She’d once again forgone using Knight Otter; it was her real avatar present. Aslishtei’s eyes got all shiny, no doubt pleased by the honor.

Once we were all settled into our cushions, Aslishtei said. “Everything provided tonight is a gift of this house. No exchanges are necessary in order to enjoy the food and hospitality. Let us eat first, then talk business.”

“I accept this gift,” Ikfael signed in response, “and agree to wait to discuss the proposed exchange.” Then, showing great restraint, she picked up a single piece of potato to eat.

As the rest of the table reached for their own shares, I poured Ikfael a cup of tea. “Anything else I can get for you?” I asked.

But she shook her head in response and picked up another piece of potato. She was dawn now, so I couldn’t see into her spirit like I used to before, but I recognized the tension around her eyes. She was worried-stressed-focused, her attention on Aslishtei at the other end of the table.

“Okay, just let me know if you need anything.”

Ikfael glanced sideways at me, and then, with a soft sigh, nodded.

###

Dinner was delicious. I had to give credit to the chefs in Aslishtei’s household; they knew their business. Both the ducks and the goat were tender, the blend of herbs and spices perfectly balanced. The buttered beans were warming and somehow wholesome, complimenting the meal’s spicier fare. On another day, I could’ve easily overeaten and fallen into a food coma afterward.

The conversation wasn’t bad either. At first, Teila carried the burden by chatting with Aslishtei’s nieces, reliving some of the embarrassing moments from when the sisters had first come to stay in Voorhei. Turn about was fair play, so Teila had some of her own stories exposed in return. I hadn’t known that she’d once tried to drink the water served in between courses. It was supposed to be used to wash your fingers.

The banter between the young adults opened the way for the others. His ears blushing, Haol admitted to having made the same mistake when he’d first encountered the wash bowls. And Tegen told us about how he’d once eaten the decorative garnishes at wedding banquet he’d attended in Albei. Bitter and fibrous, he’d assumed it was an acquired taste of the city folk.

Then, near the meal’s end, in a quiet moment of reflection left behind by our laughter, Aslishtei said, “When I was still an apprentice, I became overly confident and cast a spell I shouldn’t have, setting the room aflame.”

“You reached past the food to the fire,” Mumu said. The meaning of her words: You overreached.

“Quite true,” Aslishtei said.

“We call that chewing rocks,” Tegen added.

“My teeth were definitely not strong enough,” Aslishtei replied, her face wry.

“What happened after?” Wensatsu asked.

“At the time, our family was blessed to have a great aunt still living who was a master of fire magics. She put out the flames, but not before I’d burned myself and damaged nearly a dozen books.” Aslishtei shook her head at the folly of youth. “My injuries were healed quickly enough, and the furniture and artwork replaced, but those books—we did our best to reconstruct them, but I still think sometimes about the lost pages.”

Krenya gasped, “Not—”

“Yes,” Aslishtei confirmed. “The Books of Earthly Fire the two of you have been so keen to study.”

“That’s why you won’t let us near them,” Krenya said, her eyes bright with sudden understanding.

“But why didn’t you just explain?” Wensatsu asked. “We would’ve understood.”

“Pride,” Aslishtei said, a bitter edge to her voice. “Embarrassment too, and…you both know how important it is for us peltwei to stand strong. We must constantly be infallible, or else our enemies would take advantage of any weaknesses we expose. It’s only now that I’ve come to realize that these kinds mistakes are also a strength. They will teach you, my nieces, to do better than I have. Hiding them from strangers is one thing, but I should not hide them from you.”

Aslishtei bowed to Wensatsu and Krenya. “I apologize for withholding a valuable lesson. May my future actions be wiser.”

After a quick, surprised glance between them, her nieces bowed in return. Then Krenya asked, “Does this mean we’ll get access to the Books of Earthly Fire?”

Aslishtei replied with a smile. “Not yet, not until you’ve demonstrated a higher level of skill in Pyromancy, Ritualism, and Physics.”

I cleared my throat. “There’s a skill called Ritualism?”

“There is,” Aslishtei answered. “The skill complements several others pertaining to the philosophy of magic. One gains the skill by studying magic’s origins, how it interacts with the world, and the ways to actualize it to your own ends.”

The nieces looked at their aunt strangely, and Krenya tentatively said, “This is the Way of the Philosopher. To say more, you’d have to be a member of the lodge.”

“Or be a member of the family,” Aslishtei corrected. “We have knowledge that is independent of the philosophers.”

And there it was, the other shoe dropping. Of course, this was just bait, another round-about way to lure me into the family—

“But that’s neither here nor there,” Aslishtei continued, interrupting my thoughts. “Young Eight has made his intentions very clear. In fact”—she bowed in my direction, then proceeded to turn to bow to the other hunters, one by one—“I owe each of you an apology too. This is another mistake that I wish my nieces to learn from: Don’t let avarice and the political machinations of others sway you from your path. By fighting for our place in Albei, I nearly cost these hunters their place in Voorhei.”

It’d been years, but my anger at those awful events surrounding Borba’s murder spree still lingered. “Let’s be clear,” I hissed. “You tried to buy me.”

“I did,” Aslishtei said, not denying it.

“And my teammates were almost enslaved.”

“That was Knight Ithia—” Aslishtei tried to respond.

But I interrupted, “You—”

She spoke over me, “I could have lent my aid, and won myself and my family allies. Instead, I had let my instincts become distorted, learning the lessons of those who would oppress us. I adopted the practices of our enemies, and by so doing caused harm to those who didn’t deserve it.”

“Why?” I asked, angry. “Why do this now? You’ve had years.”

“My nieces will likely never be in more danger than when they are exploring Old Baxteiyel. I am entrusting them to you for this expedition, and that trust…” Aslishtei shook her head and paused to seemingly search for the right words. “The truth I have found is that I know I can trust you to protect them—that you and your hunters won’t let our unfortunate history interfere with your duty—and so the difference between what I understand now and what I didn’t understand then was brought to stark relief.”

“I am not usually so slow to learn,” Aslishtei continued, her voice painfully bitter. “That it has taken me so long this time is… galling.”

The others around the table had held their breaths as the sparks between Aslishtei and I had flown. Ostensibly Mumu and Tegen should’ve spoken up, but I saw from their expressions that they’d ceded that place to me. I’d been at the center of the conflict eight years ago, and I was also the highest-leveled member of our lodge in Voorhei.

Alas, those levels didn’t help with my anger; I felt like I was boiling inside. I thought I’d mostly put the experience behind me so that it wouldn’t interfere with how I treated Wensatsu and Krenya. They’d been nothing but helpful, even providing me with advice for how to wrangle the mana parts of my path spells. The sisters didn’t deserve to be poorly treated because of their aunt’s actions.

And just who wasAslishtei? An accomplished summoner. The head of a family of powerful magicians. An important aide to Albei’s land knight. Ithia’s captains called her “Honored,” and by all accounts she deserved the title for her stalwart defense of the city. Except, she’d tried to screw me over—me and my lodge. You don’t get to just beg for forgiveness and suddenly everything is hunky-dory.

I must’ve done a poor job hiding my reluctance, because Aslishtei said, “I ask nothing of you, but that you continue to follow your path. Protect my nieces; bring them home safe.”

“Our honor demands it,” I said, my voice rougher than I would’ve liked. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“An aunt worries,” Aslishtei said. “This is how things are.”

That, at least, I could agree with, saying, “It’s true for anyone who’s a child’s guardian.”

A silence fell on the table, the others glancing between each other and wondering if the respite from the fireworks was only temporary. I could feel Yuki in the background communicating with my teammates, fielding their questions so that I could focus on representing us to Aslishtei.

I took a deep breath and let the tension fall from my shoulders. Aslishtei had done what she’d done; her seeking to apologize wouldn’t materially affect the purpose of our visit. We were here to support Ikfael’s desire to join the expedition.

Into the silence, Aslishtei spoke, “I ask nothing, but I offer this—”

Jesus, what the hell? I thought. Seriously? It was all a ploy after all?

“Wait, listen first. This a gift with nothing required in return.” Aslishtei then waited to see how I would respond. It seemed she wouldn’t continue unless I was willing.

I wasn’t, but I should be. A good hunter would want the information to help complete their understanding of their opponent. I felt my fists clench and said, “Go ahead.”

Aslishtei nodded, seeming to recognize the look in my eyes and the intention behind my words. Even so, she replied, “There is a spell that ties my people together. We call it Unity, and through it, we are brought together—sharing our worries, our affections, our commonalities. We are made plain to each other, and there is no room for dishonesty. I offer to sit with you in Unity, so that you may test the depths of my sincerity. I don’t seek to excuse my past actions, but would have you understand my current and future ones better.”

Wensatsu looked at her aunt in blatant surprise, while Krenya’s beak opened and stayed open. They clearly had not expected their aunt to offer this Unity experience—whose effects remarkably resembled the ones from the Grace spell. From the looks on my team’s face, they’d seemed to have made the same connection.

I cleared my throat. “Where did this spell come from?”

With pride, Aslishtei answered, “The origins go back to Peltwei, the first of our people. The story is that she’d received it as a gift for rendering a service to a heaven-defying serpent.”

“How long ago was this?” I asked.

“Peltwei last walked this Diaksha four-hundred-seventy-three years ago,” Krenya muttered.

Aslishtei patted her hand in approval. “It is as my niece says.”

“I see,” I said, thinking quickly.

Obviously, the answer would be a firm no. If Unity really was another form of Grace, then participating would instantly reveal Yuki’s presence. I mean, they could potentially hide from it via Hollow Night, but the spell would only last six minutes before they ran out of mana.

It was the serpent’s role that really got me wondering. Was it Heleitia? And if so, just how much forethought did she have? How far into the future could she divine? Was it almost five-hundred years? Because if so, then she must’ve been preparing for something for a long, long time. Unless it was a coincidence? Luck and karma looping back on themselves?

Ikfael had been paying attention to the conversation, but now she leaned forward with intense interest. This must’ve been new information to her too.

“Did this heaven-defying serpent have a name? What about a location?”

Aslishtei’s wine had been ignored throughout the conversation. She took a sip before answering, “The records indicate that Peltwei refused to answer any questions about either. All she’d said was that the serpent jealously guarded their privacy.”

Mumu took the opportunity to step back into the conversation. “If your thoughts are exposed during the spell, then how do you handle secrets?”

Aslishtei took another sip of the wine. “Because of Unity, all the peltwei are one family. That said, the spell doesn’t reveal one’s thoughts exactly. It’s more an impression of a general direction in which those thoughts are headed. And if that direction is sensitive, then with practice we learn to keep them buried while under the spell’s effects.”

“It’s an honor to be invited,” Wensatsu said.

“A greathonor,” Krenya added.

“In my entire life, I’ve only seen one other guest invited,” Aslishtei said. “My nieces tell me you have an expression—'bad blood.’ My hope is to hope that Unity will help put that tainted blood to rest.”

Worry flowed through the Yuki backchannel, my team discussing Aslishtei’s motivations. None of them even remotely suggested I agree, though. Instead, their idea was to have Mumu volunteer in my place. She expressed confidence in her ability to hide the direction of her thoughts.

All eyes were on me as I weighed the decision. I trusted Mumu wholeheartedly. If she said afterward that Aslishtei’s intentions were pure, then I’d believe her. I didn’t think it would help change my feelings, but if we could help Ikfael achieve her goals by finding a way to accept this gift, then so be it.

I was just about to propose the idea when I realized that not all eyes had been turned toward me. Ikfael had continued to focus on Aslishtei. She tapped her claws on the mahogany table to draw everyone’s attention.

“For Eight to join the exchange we offer—for him to receive his share of the balance—he must agree to participate in this Unity.” She turned to look at me, her eyes somber. “If he does not, then I will exclude him. Furthermore, I will refuse him as my shrine’s keeper. His welcome will be complete, and the Glen will no longer receive him. Our past exchanges will come to their timely end.”

My heart sank; the whole world shook. I whispered, “What?”

Inside me, Yuki had frozen, and I dimly noted how the connections to my teammates also rocked. It triggered a panic in Billisha back in Voorhei and Mouser at the Glen too. They clamored to know if we were okay. Tegen recovered first and assured them we were.

“The exchange for the Tournament of Masks is separate, have no fear,” Ikfael signed.

“Gods damn the tournament,” I said, my voice rising. “That’s not what I care about.”

“Then you must decide the path you will take, Eight Storm Caller,” Ikfael signed.

I couldn’t read her spirit anymore, but there was sadness in her eyes. She expected me to decline; she’d made the demand knowing I’d say no, and she’d done it anyway. Ikfael… was throwing me out.