“Well, at the very least, the black powder jar didn’t break,” Vaozey said, pulling the jar out of the backpack and wiping it off on the leather. After taking care of Baotaov, we had fled the scene and found another hiding spot nearby. The guards had heard the explosion and fight going on, of course, but only managed to get more people over to the site of the noise after we had already left. Due to the amount of blood covering the both of us, we couldn’t go back out into the street for long, so we were tucked in between some broken crates behind a warehouse.

“What about the headache medicine?” I asked. Vaozey grimaced, then pulled out the bottom of a shattered jar that had been filled with green powder. Of course, I sighed. I had also lost my glass vials when Baotaov had tackled me, having crushed them into dust underneath my back and spilled their contents, but since we got lucky with the repellent I was hoping more of the backpack’s contents had survived. Well, lucky isn’t exactly the right word, I thought, the dead guards outside had some of the proper repellent on them to make up for the vials that got broken.

“So we’ve got three jars of mystery powder, the black powder, a grenade, and-” Vaozey began, coughing some more blood into her hand mid-sentence. “Seyt, there’s definitely some metal stuck in my chest from that thing he did with the metal balls.” Vaozey’s breastplate now had four holes in its front and back, and the attack on her helmet had left it deformed enough to not be wearable.

“Just take off the armor,” I instructed. “I’ll grab anything near the surface and pull it out.”

“It’s still useful,” Vaozey replied. “The holes aren’t large enough to make it less effective against a sword.” As she tried to take the armor off, I had to help her pull the caved-in and ripped-apart front section off her stomach and out of her skin. “Oh,” Vaozey said once the plate was on the ground, breathing deeply and then coughing again. “I didn’t notice how much that was crushing me.”

“We’re leaving it here,” I replied, looking her midsection over. The first shot had entered through the lower section of the cloth she used to wrap her upper chest, and apparently that same cloth had largely prevented shards of metal from following it. The other three were lower, near the stomach and intestines, and had shiny bits of metal around them, likely torn from the breastplate.

“Just do it quick,” Vaozey muttered.

“That was the plan,” I replied, grabbing them with force magic.

The attitude around the gate was somber when we came back to it, with a large number of guards patrolling around and various Rehvite civilians walking silently. It was unusual to see a section of a city being so quiet, especially an entry or exit point. There were a few bodies laid out on the ground along the sides of the road with other humans around them, some appearing to be in various states of distress. Thirteen dead, I counted, possibly more if some of the bodies have been carried away already. I was surprised at the amount of damage that the single grenade had managed to inflict, but when I considered that it exploded above head level over a crowded street it made sense. Healing magic could fix many kinds of brain damage, but it couldn’t eject shrapnel from the interior of the skull.

“You could almost think they were human, seeing them like this,” Vaozey muttered as we passed by a woman and two children who were weeping over the body of a man, presumably their immediate family member. It reminded me of the aftermath of the slaughter in Owsahlk, though the victims were different people.

“It’s just confusing,” I replied. “Their doctrine states that death isn’t something to fear or be aggrieved about. It doesn’t make sense that they’re acting like this, unless these are non-Rehvite victims. Yet, that one has an ant pin on his sleeve, so it’s unlikely.”

“I wonder if they know it was one of their own kind that killed them,” Vaozey snorted. “Maybe that would make it better, maybe they’re just ashamed because they think one of us did it.”

I expected that it would be difficult to get out of Muhryehv due to the recent attacks, but the guards were remarkably accommodating when we reached the gate. They appeared to assume that we were victims of the attack, which helped us to explain the blood on our clothing, and when we expressed the desire to walk to Kuhtehsh we didn’t get a hard “no”. Instead, the guards tried to talk us out of it or get us to wait for some caravan that we could tag along with, trying to assure us that we were still safe in Muhryehv and that the culprit of the attack had already been found and arrested. When my more logical reasoning wasn’t working, Vaozey stepped in, feigning some emotional vulnerability that got both the female commander and male gate guard to begrudgingly accept our proposal.

Outside the city while walking down the forest path, I thought about her tactic and tried to make sense of it. Most of my deception was based on rationality, emulating the specifics of creator human emotions wasn’t something I did often, mainly because I still found them difficult to understand at times and didn’t want to risk appearing inauthentic. I had lied about having a family a few times in order to give myself acceptable motivations for actions, but I didn’t really qualify that as the same thing, since it was still quite a logical reason to do something.

“What?” Vaozey asked, breaking my train of thought.

“What?” I asked back.

“You’ve been looking over at me for an hour now,” Vaozey replied.

“That thing you did with the guards,” I said. “How did you know that would work?”

“What, lying?” Vaozey snarked.

“No, how did you know that saying you were scared for your life would compel them to allow us to leave?” I asked, being more specific. “They had already assured us that we were safe, it shouldn’t have worked.” Vaozey thought about it for a moment.

“If I had to saw the biggest reason, it’s that they wouldn’t want to argue with someone irrational,” she replied. “I’m guessing your people are more like you, considering how you act, but people here don’t have to win every argument.”

“It would make more sense, from their perspective, to arrest you if you were going to do something dangerous and irrational,” I said.

“And do all that paperwork?” Vaozey laughed. “No, people go with the path of least resistance. In that case, the path of least resistance was to let us go once I made it clear they wouldn’t convince me. It’s a lot easier to explain to a superior why you let someone do something totally legal that they wanted to do than explain to them why you arrested two travelers for something that isn’t even a crime.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” I muttered, but the idea of deliberately forgoing one’s duty just didn’t sit right with me.

The rest of the day was mostly quiet, and by the time we set down for the night both Vaozey and I were utterly exhausted. I showed her how to sleep in a tree because we wouldn’t be able to properly keep watch while the other was sleeping, and though she balked at the idea of potentially falling out during the night she still did as I asked. Just before I managed to slip into a formless dream, I heard snoring coming from Vaozey’s tree, and hoped that no bears were around.

Day 2, Afternoon

“How did you know how to dodge that kid’s attacks from close range?” Vaozey asked as we trudged along. The forest was growing denser as we proceeded, getting to the point that the road had been obviously cleared by humans instead of just worn into the ground by repeated travel. It seemed to make both Vaozey and me nervous, but probably for different reasons.

“Which attacks?” I asked.

“The snappy thing with the metal balls,” Vaozey replied. “You only saw it once up close, when he got me with it. How did you know how to avoid it?”

“It was obvious,” I replied.

“Oh, so I should have known?” Vaozey asked, causing me to frown. There’s no good answer to that, I thought. “I was thinking about that story you told,” Vaozey continued. “You know, the one when we were going to Kahvahrniydah. Those weapons you talked about, the ones that shoot little pieces of metal, that kid’s magic attacks were a lot like that.”

“Those were guns,” I replied. “I mentioned that he might have some when we talked about why we were going for the black powder.” And you didn’t know what I was talking about then, I wanted to say.

“Wait wait wait,” Vaozey said, gesturing for me to stop talking with her hand. “What does an explosive have to do with magic?”

“Guns aren’t magic,” I clarified. “They’re weapons, like crossbows-”

“How could a weapon that can shoot dozens of those little metal balls a minute not be at least partially powered by magic?” Vaozey asked, sounding skeptical.

“It uses a type of explosive as a power source in order to rapidly cycle mechanical component-” I began.

“It does what?” Vaozey interrupted.

“If you’re just going to cut me off, I can’t explain it,” I said, looking around in response to a noise. I suspected it was just an animal, but I wasn’t sure enough of that to simply ignore it without reacting.

“Can you make one of those with black powder?” Vaozey asked. I looked at her, and she looked at me, and we both said nothing. “I’m letting you finish,” she said.

“No,” I replied finally. “The mechanical components of an automatic firearm are far too small and precise to hand make with your people’s level of technology, and even if I had such a weapon the black powder isn’t the right kind of explosive for it. It leaves behind too much residue, even if it had suitable levels of power. After firing only a few dozen rounds it’s highly likely that the weapon would need to be totally stripped and cleaned, or risk severe damage, even a barrel blockage or explosion in the worst cases.”

“Huh,” Vaozey grunted, and we kept walking in silence. “Do your people have these weapons?” she asked a few minutes later, almost making me jump in surprise.

“No,” I lied.

“Then how do you know so much about them?” she asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” I replied.

“You said that Baotaov might have had a gahn since he had black powder,” Vaozey said. “But just now you said that it’s not possible to use black powder in a gahn.”

“I said that it wouldn’t work for an automatic firearm,” I corrected. “For a simpler kind of weapon, like a musket or even a revolver, it could work. Those kinds of weapons are also much closer to your people’s level of metallurgic technology. A cannon, however, would be the simplest weapon for making use of black powder that isn’t a grenade, but also the largest.”

“The way you say that, it’s like you’re calling us stupid for not knowing how to make these things,” Vaozey grumbled.

“Intelligence and knowledge aren’t the same thing, even if they’re related,” I replied. Again, there was a long pause, maybe a minute, as we kept walking.

“What does that even mean?” Vaozey pressed, and I sighed.

“What about it is complex enough to need me to explain it?” I asked.

“How can you be smart and not smart at the same time?” Vaozey asked.

“It’s not about being ‘smart’, it’s about having a knowledge base,” I replied, trying not to sound like I was getting annoyed. “Let me use an example: Before your people had swords, they used spears. It wasn’t because they were stupid, they just didn’t know how to make swords, nobody had thought of it yet.”

“We always had swords,” Vaozey replied, and I sighed deeply.

“You could not possibly have always had swords,” I countered. “Swords don’t grow on trees, they don’t come out of rocks. Swords need to be made by human hands. Spears, on the other hand, essentially do grow out of trees in their simplest form, rather they’re incredibly easy to make by simply snapping a branch. More advanced forms require human construction, but are still simpler to create than swords.”

“Roydlow bestowed the knowledge of swords to us after we were created, back in Dahmpiyah,” Vaozey replied. “We always knew how to make swords. Same with armor, houses, a bunch of things.” I think I see what she meant about not wanting to argue with someone irrational, I thought.

“Paper, then,” I said.

“Tawvao taught us how to make paper and books,” Vaozey replied.

“And Tawvao was?” I asked, knowing the answer already even though I had forgotten the specifics.

“Roydlow’s wife,” Vaozey answered, and I sighed again. “Other cultures have different gods, but the stories are all the same. We always knew these things. I don’t understand where you’re getting this idea from.”

“Movable type,” I said, trying and failing to contain my irritation.

“What?” Vaozey asked.

“Your people can use a form of block printing for books, right?” I asked.

“I think so,” Vaozey shrugged. “I actually don’t know much about how books are produced.”

“Well, if I’m right, you can,” I said. “The way it works is that someone carves a piece of wood into a stamp for paper, then inks it and presses it into the paper to write a whole page at once. Movable type is an iteration of that idea. Instead of carving a whole block, single letters are carved and then aligned and placed in such a way as to make the block, allowing them to be reused and saving time. Usually, they are also made of metal to increase their durability and precision.”

“Okay,” Vaozey shrugged.

“I don’t believe your people have this technology,” I said. “But, it’s not because you couldn’t make it, it’s simply because nobody thought of it yet. You’re not stupid for not having invented movable type yet. You simply lack the knowledge, but with intelligence and time you will eventually gain it.” Vaozey went quiet, frowning and scratching the side of her head, and the trip was once again peaceful.

Day 4, Night

“Who is Yaytgayao?” I asked as Vaozey muttered the name again under her breath during magic practice. I had a good idea, but I wanted confirmation since creator human religion was still a bit confusing to me.

“Roydlow and Tawvao’s child,” Vaozey grunted, not opening her eyes. “Shut up for a minute, I think I almost have this.” Her face scrunched up with effort, she took deep breaths, holding them in the exhaling forcefully as she gripped her right wrist with her left hand, trying to force magic to light a small piece of wood a few centimeters away.

“Some kind of fire god?” I asked.

“I will tell you if this works,” Vaozey growled through gritted teeth, starting to shake from mental exertion. Again, she began muttering something under her breath, but it sounded more like curses than prayers. A few seconds later, a small spot on the wood started to blacken, then smoke, before igniting into a small flame. Vaozey didn’t notice until the smoke reached her nose, at which point her eyes shot open and she looked down, seeing the fire she made.

“Good job,” I said.

“YES!” Vaozey roared, jumping to her feet and clenching her fists. Her whole body tensed up and shook, and she roared again, extending her arms high into the sky as the guttural roar escaped her mouth. Once her lungs were empty, she remained in that position for a few seconds, breathing hard, before looking over at me.

“Well, if there was anyone trying to find us, they’d know where we are now,” I said. Not that the campfire wouldn’t have given us away, I thought.

“Don’t be such a jhuwlay,” Vaozey snorted. “Do you know how long it’s been? How long I’ve been trying to do that? Years. Half my life. Finally, it worked.” Still taking deep breaths, she slumped back down into a sitting position, looking exhausted. “I feel like I’m going to wake up and be pissed off. If this is a dream it’s a seytoydh cruel one to be this real.”

“As far as I know, you’re awake,” I said.

“That’s exactly what you’d say in a dream,” Vaozey snarked. “Actually, the fact that you’re asking about gods means this probably is one, but I guess I’ll go with it. It’s a bit blasphemous to explain this outside of a temple, but if it’s just a dream it doesn’t matter and if it isn’t, you won’t find a proper temple around here anyway.”

“Again, you’re awake, I assure you,” I said.

“Yaytgayao is one of Roydlow and Tawvao’s children,” Vaozey explained. “He’s the god of charity and vigilantism. Rather, it would be more correct to say he’s the god of charity and she’s the god of vigilantism.” Of course it has to be something complex and irrational, I thought. Still, I wasn’t yet ready to sleep, and learning more about Uwrish culture would help me blend in.

“Fine, I’ll ask,” I sighed. “What do you mean by that? We’re talking about one individual, right?” Vaozey, pleased with my response, smiled.

“Yaytgayao’s nature isn’t known, exactly,” she continued. “All of the texts that speak of Roydlow and Tawvao’s children make no reference to whether Yaytgayao is a male or female god. In the stories, Yaytgayao appears as a woman to men, and a man to women, but is recognizable in both forms as the same individual. Her female appearance is noted to be highly masculine, while his male appearance is supposedly quite feminine. Both can initially deceive onlookers.”

“That’s confusing,” I said.

“It’s not, really,” Vaozey shrugged. “It’s proper for women to refer to Yaytgayao as a man, and men to refer to Yaytgayao as a woman. The stories of the male Yaytgayao are all about charity and self-sacrifice, while the female Yaytgayao is a figure who enacts justice where it is lacking. Usually, however, some of those concepts cross over a bit. The female Yaytgayao often enacts justice for free or at personal expense, and the male Yaytgayao often gives those who are helpless methods to defend themselves or defends them through self-sacrifice.”

“I see,” I grunted.

“I can’t believe I’m tired in a dream, but I am,” Vaozey yawned. “Sleeping in a seytoydh tree like a squirrel, never thought I’d do that.”

“I assure you, you’re awake right now,” I repeated.

“We’ll see when I wake up in the morning,” Vaozey replied.

After just five days of walking, near dusk, we finally say the border of Kuhtehsh. I had been looking out for bandits, so the sound of humans in the distance was initially worrying, but as we approached I noticed that there were many wooden stakes in the ground to indicate a permanent settlement and a number of groups of cabins inside their perimeter. Initially, I thought it was some kind of bandit camp, but it turned out to be far too large and there were too many unarmed civilians walking around inside.

Unlike most cities, the area around Kuhtehsh was barely cleared at all. Essentially, the entire “town” was just a group of buildings in the middle of the forest. The trees were certainly less dense inside the town compared to outside of it, but there was still a fairly consistent canopy of leaves over top of the entire place due to the number of trees inside the border. This almost reminds me of a warbreed camp, I thought as we approached, watching the guards in the towers along the wall so we could wave to them and indicate that we weren’t attempting any subterfuge. Eventually, one spotted us and called out to a few more, then a small group of guards came to meet us when we reached the wall.

“What’s your business here?” the leader asked. Unlike regular city guards, the three men and one woman in front of us weren’t wearing any kind of armor, just leather clothing with some woven patches on their chests. All three except the leader were also holding very powerful-looking crossbows, while the leader himself had a machete of sorts on his hip.

“There was an attack in Muhryehv,” I said. “My companion and I are looking to get to Awrehrehzhah, and we left quickly out of fear of more fighting.”

“Hm,” the leader grunted. “You two followers of Rehv?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “Unofficially, of course.”

“I am,” Vaozey lied.

“Well, even if you weren’t, I’d let you in,” the lead guard shrugged. “You don’t look that suspicious, and I doubt there’s much in here worth stealing that you couldn’t get by hunting. Though if you try, I’ll kill you. Got it?”

“Got it,” I echoed.

“Welcome to Kuhtehsh,” the guard smiled. “Hope you brought money, we’re always looking for that around here.”