Turn, Sir of Febla: 33 Xiven

The downside to getting used to antagonizing people while he was behind a jail cell was that when he was in jail, he was a special case. He was a murderous child-Prince. Terrifying, really. No one wanted to bother him at all. But now Kayin was out of jail, and the person he chose to antagonize had the ability to make Kayin eat his words.

By admitting he didn’t notice that they were followed out of Urbana, Kayin mostly intended to get a rise out of Dhekk. But now, every hour or so, he suffered quizzes.

“How many edia were in that hole over there?”

“We passed a felled mushroom. How many trees have we passed since then?”

“What color was that gerrie? What note was it singing?”

To that last question, Kayin said, “It was green, but I don’t know music. What note was it singing?” Dhekk responded with an exaggerated sigh, throwing up his hands, and stomping forward on the forest path with heavier steps.

“I don’t know what to do with you!” he grumbled as he stormed forward.

Karsarath hummed as he walked beside Kayin, his head tilted to the side.

“Kayin, how many of the questions Dhekk asks you, do you think he knows the answer to?” It was a valid question, one Kayin tested later when Dhekk asked Kayin how long it had been, in steps, since they passed that glade with a tree stump in it.

With an air of confidence, Kayin said, “A hundred!” He didn’t know. But he didn’t think Dhekk did, either.

The moon, Orinel, was brightest tonight, Kayin thought. The way Dhekk paused in the darkness, twisted his head to slowly look at Kayin with a murderous expression—there was no way Dhekk wasn’t swayed by the evil moon. Not with that reaction.

“A hundred steps, huh?” he repeated. Out of the corner of his eyes, Kayin watched Karsarath backtrack a bit into the tree line, dimming some of the glow of the giant mushroom they paused beside.

“Um,” sounded Kayin with uncertainty.

“Go on, take a hundred steps that way. Walk one hundred steps and you’ll be at the glade, right?” Dhekk gestured to the darkening forest behind them, but Kayin didn’t move. “A hundred. Try lying to me again and next time I won’t let you out of it.”

“We should camp soon,” Karsarath said in an attempt to break the conversation away from Kayin’s poor answering skills.

“You know,” Dhekk started dramatically, “if only we knew how far that glade was. That would have been a perfect place.” And while he still kept his lecturing tone on Kayin, and didn’t even bother to look at the other man, Karsarath still shrunk.

“I don’t know the steps, but,” Karsarath started with a shrug, “I know it’s about a meter back.” It took all of Kayin’s strength not to glare at him like the traitor he was.

Frirn, Sir of Febla: 33 Xiven

Traveling with Karsarath certainly felt a lot less lonely than traveling solely with Dhekk. In the evenings, Karsarath continued showing Kayin the basics of posing with short swords, and even sparred a few times. In the afternoon, when the edia were active, Dhekk caught edia like it was nothing. He was, at least, impressed with Kayin’s basic knowledge of traps.

“If we’re ever in one place for more than a night,” Dhekk said one day, “we’ll put that skill to the test.” More tests. Quizzes.

In the late afternoon of a third day of travel, Dhekk hesitated. Rinesa stained the clouds in the sky a deep red. And while the three of them sweat from the amount of physical labor climbing through this part of the forest required, it didn’t quite feel like the night cooled much. A proper Sow Season was on the horizon, warning of sweaty days ahead.

“Dorr will be up here soon,” said Dhekk quietly as he managed to crawl over a log. The road they followed seemed abandoned. Thin, overtaken by grasses and roots, and with rotting vegetation across several parts of the road.

“Um, so what is Dorr?” asked Kayin when he followed. At least with all this walking, carrying the bag no longer felt like such a chore. Plus, eating the rations inside it made it lighter—though not by much, since most of the weight was in the bedrolls.

Karsarath made a sound. When Kayin looked to him, his lips were pursed, as if trying not to say whatever came to mind. Dhekk noticed, too, and answered Kayin by just gesturing to Karsarath and continuing along the path. How helpful. Karsarath frowned at him, but nodded at taking up the responsibility. As they walked, slow and stumbling, Karsarath took his time.

“Well,” he started with a thick voice, “you ever hear about the origin of Cigam?” Kayin nodded. “So you know it rooted with experimentation.” Another nod. “Well, with anything new, there are…unintended consequences. Side-effects.” Well, that sounded ominous.

“But that was a long time ago,” said Kayin with furrowed brows. His hand automatically snapped up to stop a branch from slapping him in the face; and, despite being proud of himself for being able to sense that was about to happen, Dhekk wasn’t watching. Oh well.

“Well, yes. But every time more people are born, it’s like more experimenting. You know?” At least Kayin didn’t have to answer that question for Karsarath to understand that he didn’t. “Oh. Um, so—you ever see someone who doesn’t look like their parents? Like their parents have blue eyes, but they have brown eyes?”

“Oh.” Kayin nodded. “So you mean that because after all this time, there’s so many different kinds of Cigam, that some don’t mix together so well?” Though there were only a dozen types of Cigam, according to Dhekk. Kayin didn’t pursue math when he was in jail, mostly because he didn’t have to. The tutors’ time was limited and he had to be choosy with his courses. Still, twelve different kinds of Cigam, of varying power….

“It’s different for everyone,” said Karsarath. “Or maybe someone did something, or drank a medicine, or something—and it messed with their ability to use Cigam.” At first, the idea of drinking a health potion and then suddenly not being able to use your Cigam correctly was a bit of a scary thought. Did people have to choose, sometimes? Like the option of cutting off a foot to save a leg? Is that what Karsarath’s mom did?

“Like how your mom…?” Like choosing between happiness and abilities you didn’t even like?

“Could’ve made something weird happen, sure,” said Karsarath. “But it didn’t for me. And if it did, like if I got some sort of strange side-effect, like I glowed green whenever I used it or I could only grow grass out of my hands—stuff like that, and it’s disruptive enough, people get kind of…sent to Dorr.”

“Sent to Dorr,” Kayin repeated. “Do they get a choice?”

“They didn’t used to. But now Dorr’s much smaller, and the people that live there want to. Some people are probably born there with no problems at all and just live there anyway because it’s home.” That much Kayin could understand. Yatora might have been a pit of mud, or whatever Dhekk called it, but it was home. It still ached to think about never going back, even if he could still tell himself it was there, just on the other side of this forest.

“So it was like a ‘different person’ prison,” said Kayin.

Karsarath nodded, sucking his teeth. “Yeah, not going to lie, I don’t know what to expect, and it really does sound like that.”

Dhekk huffed from ahead and twisted around to Kayin and Karsarath.

Clearly unhappy with the state of Karsarath’s explanations, he added, “They’re just different people with different abilities. They’re an independent city-state. They’re on the way to Tornah, anyway.” But he didn’t say much else, and just continued leading the way on the terrible road with uneven dirt.

“So how big is Dorr?” Kayin asked. Maybe a big group of people that felt othered by Xiven would be a great place to check for allies, or to see what they could do to make it a nicer place once Xiven was out of power.

“Not even a hundred people,” Karsarath muttered.

“Oh.” Well, there went that idea.

The forest revealed, not too much later, a set of trees that all grew beside one another in a morphed, living wall of sorts. Purposefully grown trees that even grew into and on top of one another that made a physical barrier, with a wooden archway covered in thick vines as a door. Well, Kayin assumed it was meant to be a door. He wasn’t sure what else to make of the curtain of green.

“We’re not thinking they’re going to actually ally with us?” Kayin thought aloud when he stopped beside Dhekk.

“They deserve to get a say,” was Dhekk’s surprisingly empathetic response. “Safe place to sleep tonight, anyway.” Well, at least that much was true. They hadn’t experienced any run-ins with any of the larger beasts that dwelled in the forest, but it was only a matter of time before their luck ran out. If being run out of several cities due to war and peka raids was considered luck.

The trio took their time approaching the archway. At first, Kayin wasn’t certain about why Dhekk took such small steps, until he stared at the vines and leaves covering the way in. They didn’t move, even with the small breeze carrying in cooler temperatures. They looked real enough, but didn’t behave like vines.

Kayin flinched when Dhekk shouted a hello. Even the leaves trembled at his yell. But, it did the trick, because a few of the vines parted, revealing an approaching man in long, black robes that dragged on the floor. He kept his head bald and shiny, and approached with a wary smile. The last person Kayin had ever seen in clothing so impractical was the King of Yatora, who could hardly keep his eyes open during dinner. Was this man important?

“Hello,” the man said, breathy. His lips cracked when they parted, dry and crusted.

“Hi,” repeated Dhekk. “Can we come in?” Kayin wanted to roll his eyes, but instead busied himself by trying to look through the vines. He could see the other side of the wall of trees; no other entrances to Dorr from this vantage point. Simple buildings built on stilts, keeping the floors elevated by at least a foot or two off the ground. Did it snow here? Kayin read in books that some people made their homes on stilts if it snowed a lot to prevent the floor from expanding or shrinking too much. They weren’t much further north than Yatora, at this point, though. And his ears never popped, so they weren’t much more elevated than they were in any other part of this journey.

“Why?” the bald man asked. His expression didn’t change. Kayin exchanged glances with Karsarath. Now his stomach was starting to hurt, and it probably had more to do with this weird hamlet and strange man rather than the fact that they ate the last of the jerky, and Dhekk refused to answer if it was still good or not.

The bald man’s simple question seemed to stun Dhekk. For whatever reason, he wasn’t expecting such a candid phrasing.

Kayin cleared this throat, and offered a weak smile. “To rest, please. We’ve been on the road for quite some time, and if you have a—a tavern, or at least let us please sleep inside your walls….”

“Only those with unique Cigam shunned by others are permitted inside,” the bald man interrupted. Oh. Seriously? Before Kayin could argue, the man nodded. “So you are welcome inside. We will protect each other from those that reject us.” Somehow, the trio collectively agreed to not question this, and to just accept his hospitality. Maybe he sensed that Karsarath was just recently kicked out of Urbana, and that counted enough.

One by one, the middlemost vines came to life as if responding to a breeze, and parted like a set of curtains. Kayin managed to thank the bald man quietly as they went in.

“I like, um, I like your…door,” he said awkwardly.

“Thank you. My plants do not look natural when I make them, and they never retreat when told, so I use them for these purposes.” Once the three travelers made it inside, the vines fell back into their dripping, resting position. “Please, guests, follow me.”

Inside Dorr, it was much smaller than Karsarath guessed earlier. There were maybe six buildings of varying sizes and heights, all requiring to take a set of stairs to get to: three across from another three, and possibly an outhouse in the far corner. At this time of budding night, it was difficult to see what, specifically, shifted in the shadows under those homes—but the theory of snow immediately left Kayin’s mind.

“Um, so—” Kayin opted to walk beside the bald man, leaving Dhekk and Karsarath to follow behind. He didn’t know what was there, but finding out alone seemed like a worse idea than sticking with the man that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “So the buildings here are, um, raised. Why? Is it snow?”

“For the vemps to live under.” At the man’s answer, Kayin looked back. Both Dhekk and Karsarath shrugged. “They don’t like light, but they deserve a home as the rest of us, so we raised our buildings to give them shelter.” That was nice, at least.

“And—so, um, what’s a vemp?”

“Oh!” The man laughed. “Yes, well, you will see. They are nocturnal. Maracosh will explain. They are his.” His.

“Okay,” was all Kayin could manage until the man led them to the second building in the row. This building was tallest of them all, four stories high, all made of various types of wood. Trees were used as support beams at every joint of this L-shaped building, with many large branches as trusses.

“So you helped make this building?” Kayin guessed.

“I did! To be welcome to join here, I contributed in making the new sleeping house. I was very young back then.” And although he didn’t entirely look old now, his laugh did sound like he’d seen at least a few dozen years more than Kayin had.

The steps, although the wood looked grainy, uneven, and even soggy at times, held everyone as they made their way to the front door. The bald man opened it, bathing them all in the warm glow of a fireplace on the other side of the room.

“Maracosh, guests,” the bald man said. “They want to meet your vemps.” He said this last thing like a joke; Maracosh came from another room, joining in his laughter. This man had stringy, gray hair, and less teeth than digits when he smiled.

“Welcome, guests,” he said. “Three beds?”

“Yes,” Dhekk said finally, recovering from his culture shock. “How much is it?”

“How much is what?” Maracosh didn’t seem to follow; seeing Dhekk this uncomfortable was far more entertaining than when Kayin tried to do it on purpose.

“The…to rent the beds for the night. How many coins will it cost us?”

“We do not accept the Emperor’s coin here.”

Dhekk shifted, glancing to his travel companions, before nodding. Though no one said anything, Kayin knew they were all thinking the same thing: rejected people that rejected Xiven’s coins were probably safe allies to have.

“Well,” he said, “then whatever we can do to earn our keep.”

The bald man smiled. “I must return to my post.”

“Thank you—” Kayin hardly managed to get the words out before he escaped through the door.

“Up the stairs here,” Maracosh started, gesturing for the trio to follow him to the next room, “and the very top room. I need to get another cot, but that is where you can be.”

“We don’t really need another cot,” Kayin started awkwardly, “we have bed rolls.” He gestured to the backpack he carried. Taking more than they needed felt wrong, especially if Dorr didn’t actually get anything for them taking their resources.

“Hm.” The man stared at them, then shrugged. “Okay. I’ll have Oie bring food, if you want?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Dhekk. Without much else to do and with the light from the windows dying quickly, he led the way up the staircase, up three flights of stairs, to the only room at the top. Small, maybe the size of Kayin’s childhood hut, with two cots and a chair under the glass-encased window. Despite the air feeling stale and stuffy, it wasn’t quite warm in here. A candle melted onto the windowsill, bit still held plenty of wick to be lit for tonight.

When Dhekk and Karsarath both approached one of the cots, the backpack slid to the floor.

“I get the bedroll?” Kayin guessed as he opened the bag for the flint.

“I didn’t tell the guy not to get another bed,” muttered Karsarath. “My back is killing me.” Despite the idea of sleeping on the floor, Kayin laughed, and unfurled both of the rolls to make his bed. Karsarath caught the flint Kayin tossed him with one hand, and used the edge of his sword to light the candle. It wasn’t great light, but as the moons emerged, it would suffice.

A girl maybe around a dozen years old, brought up a wooden tray of a plate of black jerky. Kayin tried not to frown at it, instead thanked the little blonde girl. Jerky was probably even worse than when he had to eat braised peka. Salty, yes. But also dry, and sometimes over-spiced, and after acquiring a taste for eating different kinds of food in the castle, it was difficult to eat nothing but jerky for a week straight.

“Do you live here now?” the girl asked, looking up at the three of them individually. Just as the man that greeted them, she wore a black set of robes that trailed to the floor. To see a child with a trailing set of clothes like that, Kayin had to guess that maybe dresses and robes didn’t mean what they did in Dorr, as far as status, like they did in Yatora.

As Karsarath rose to greet her, Kayin took the lead on this, too: “No, but it’s nice here. Are you Oie?”

She nodded, then approached the chair that separated the beds and set the board down. Karsarath offered an awkward smile, but Dhekk just sat there, untying his longsword from his waist to lean it against the wall.

The girl looked between the three of them, still, spinning in a circle. “Who are you? Why are you here? We don’t like strangers.” For not liking strangers, they were quite hospitable. He wondered how it might be if they were truly welcome here for a brief moment.

“I’m Karsarath.”

“Dhekk. And this is Sadoe.” But just as soon as he said this, the little girl looked up to the ceiling directly above her, as if watching something. It looked rather unnatural, the way she just let the base of her head rest on her neck like that, her nose parallel to the support truss. Kayin couldn’t see whatever it was she did; not a bug, not a rodent. Just a regular, wooden ceiling that she stared at as if it spoke to her.

“They don’t like it when you lie,” said Oie as she recovered from her strange expression.

“What?” Kayin asked this time, since Dhekk seemed to put her off so easily. When she turned to Kayin, she repeated herself slowly: “They don’t like it when you lie.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“I can’t really control them yet, but when I’m strong enough,” she continued as if he never asked her anything, “I’ll have the vemps eat liars. They want to anyway.” And, as if that was a proper and polite goodbye, she spun toward the stairs and started her way down.

“Maybe we should have stayed outside of Dorr tonight,” mumbled Dhekk as he reached for some jerky. Karsarath followed suit with only an “mhm” in agreement. Kayin, though, remained rooted to his spot.

“Did I just get threatened by a child?” he asked shallowly. Dhekk and Karsarath seemed to heal from the moment, even going so far as to share a laugh.

“Yeah,” said Dhekk. “But you’re a child, too, so it’s not that embarrassing.”

“I’m not a child.”

“How old are you?” asked Karsarath. He tossed a thick piece of jerky to Kayin, who caught it just as it bounced off his chest. Kayin raised a brow at the question, but couldn’t quite find a way to answer. “When were you born?”

“I don’t think I understand what you mean,” admitted Kayin with his mouth full. Whatever this jerky was made of—probably vemp—was tough, rather flavorless. Not the worst, but by far from the best he’d ever tasted. But free food was free food, after all.

“You don’t know your birthday?” Although he wasn’t the type to prank, Kayin shot a glance at Dhekk to see if there was some sort of joke he was missing. “As in the day you were born?”

“Am—am I supposed to know? I know I was there and all, but—”

“It’s a rich-people thing,” Dhekk said, shaking his head.

“Rich-people thing?” Karsarath echoed with a scoff. “That’s not true. We just remembered these things in Urbana. Celebrated making it that far in life, and all that.”

“Would’ve made more sense for Yatora to do that,” Dhekk said, shrugging. “They didn’t live that long.”

Wanting to yell at Dhekk was overshadowed by a realization Kayin had.

“Wait,” he said, “does that mean you know Dania’s birthday?” Smiling, the man nodded.

“I was there. She was born…let’s see.” He finished his piece of jerky before he could fully think of the day. “It was a little cold that morning. Marla, I think. Second week of Marla. Yeah, she was born Turn, Sir of Marla.”

Hearing this, Kayin settled into his bedroll with a grin. He couldn’t quite remember anything they’d ever did that was special on those days. But then, children, and people in the village of Yatora in general, didn’t keep track of the days very carefully. The only ones that had to really know were the farmers, and they could usually sense the weather change better than remember to anticipate it.

But just as sudden as the excitement came on, Kayin frowned. Knowing this now meant nothing. Not when she was….

“We can give you a birthday, if you want,” suggested Karsarath. “Start celebrating the fact that you’re alive.” The suggestion, though, just left a sour taste in Kayin’s mouth, unrelated to the vemp jerky.

“No,” he decided quietly. “There’s not really a point.” Karsarath dropped the question, seeming to understand in that moment.

“Maybe we’ll do something nice in memory of Dania next month,” he suggested instead. Kayin looked up with a raised brow. “She never got to celebrate it, but we can.”

Fingers picking apart the remaining jerky strip in his hand, Kayin shrugged. Maybe Karsarath didn’t understand because he didn’t know her. Or maybe…because he never got to, he understood just as well.