I took a route along the wall as I walked back northward from the entry and exit station, partially because I wanted to avoid the men I had knocked out and partially so that I could get a better look at the weapons the guards were using. How long would it have taken them to make guns? I wondered as I got another glimpse of one of the strange harpoon gun devices that the wall guards were equipped with. The officer had used Koyl’s last name when referring to the weapons, even calling them “rifles” in strangely accented English, so it was likely that Aavspeyjh had taken my descriptions and constructed his idea of what they were. At least a year, maybe two, I thought, that would be how long I would expect it to take, assuming money was no barrier to development.

The biggest problems with producing guns in Uwriy were that their metals were not of consistent quality and their knowledge of mechanical parts and ability to produce them was generally poor or otherwise slow. The first was something they could overcome with money, the Uwrish were capable of making good-quality steel but simply didn’t do it very often, probably due to the forging methods being too expensive for mass use or requiring facilities that most smiths didn’t have. The second, however, they seemed to be overcoming with magic rather than any sort of technological advancement. Not one of the musket-like firearms I had seen so far had so much as a trigger built into it, and the most complex moving part on them was some kind of locking mechanism near the rear of the barrel.

I could use heat magic with volumetric casting to ignite gunpowder, but are all of these guards using a similar technique? I wondered. Heat magic wasn’t hard to learn or teach, even Vaozey managed to pick it up despite her profound barriers to magical learning in general, but it wasn’t commonly known among the Uwrish. Volumetric casting was a little bit harder, judging by Koyl’s attempts at least, but still far from difficult. I suppose spending a week teaching someone a few extremely basic magic techniques to enable them to use a new weapon is less work than teaching them to fight with magic, I thought, rubbing my chin. Even though their presence meant that I had one less way out of the prison, I couldn’t help but feel a strange comfort because of the firearms. Finally, in a world full of strange and dangerous things, there was something that I knew so well I could assemble and use one with my eyes closed.

“Actually, I should go find that Aaljh guy again,” I muttered to myself, putting aside the thoughts in favor of my more immediate work ticket problem. “Better than trying to find an excuse to start a conversation with a stranger.”

It took an hour of searching before I saw Aaljh wandering between a few tents, looking incredibly paranoid as he hunched over and tried to hide whatever he was carrying. Before approaching him, I took a moment to see how others were reacting to his presence, finding no less than four individuals who looked like they were watching him with varying degrees of ill intent. Honestly, how has he survived for half a year in this environment acting like that? I wondered as I sighed and walked up to the man from behind. Even hunched over he was barely shorter than I was, and I was sure if he stood to full height he would be at least five centimeters taller than me.

“I have more questions,” I said, and Aaljh flinched so hard from the words that he nearly fell over, dropping one of the wrapped pieces of cloth he was carrying in his arms. Before he could find a way to pick it up without dropping the others, I reached down and grabbed it, feeling the distinctive shape of a few tightly-wrapped coins inside.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Aaljh pleaded, looking like he wanted to bolt away from me at any moment with wide eyes.

“It’s not me you should be worried about,” I replied, looking around at the hungry eyes of the nearby watchers. “If you think you’re being subtle, you’re wrong.” Aaljh conspicuously looked over at one of the men who I had glanced at, then inhaled sharply.

“Seyt,” he swore under his breath. “Listen, I’ll let you keep those coins if you help me get the rest of these over to my new hiding place.”

“You’ll do more than that,” I said.

“F-fine, you can have twice that much,” Aaljh hissed.

“That, and information,” I offered. “Do you at least have somewhere secure to store these? With the amount of attention you’re drawing, someone is going to see you stash them.”

“I have somewhere safe,” Aaljh nodded furiously. “Can you help me?”

“For now, sure,” I shrugged.

The “safe spot” where Aaljh was planning to hide his poorly-concealed bundles of money was a makeshift shack that smelled faintly of human waste he had built near the east end of the prison camp. At any given time it was in full view of at least five or six guards on the walls, a fact which Aaljh insisted would make people less likely to try to attack him. I wasn’t convinced, but I didn’t really care much either, so I helped him dig up the ground inside and bury his money, then cover it up again and replace the moist floorboards.

“Thank the gods for you,” Aaljh huffed once we were done. “I knew putting this place together a week ago was a good idea. The west end is closer to a feeding area but it’s a lot less safe.”

“Right,” I replied, looking around the interior of the shack. The roof was just under two meters above us so we both had to crouch, and the total floor space was just a few square meters in a rectangle, not even enough to fully stretch out inside of when trying to sleep.

“That money I paid you should be enough for a meal or two,” Aaljh said. “That’s four ngoywngeyt total, I think.”

“Speaking of payment,” I said, and Aaljh stepped back from me. “Where would I find someone with an outside work ticket for a job coming up soon?” Aaljh took another step back and nearly smashed through his own wall, shaking the whole shack. The first good wind is probably going to blow this whole thing over, I thought, looking towards the “door” that was little more than a few boards tied together and leaned against an opening in the wall.

“Did you… talk to the officer at the station?” Aaljh asked.

“We should probably talk outside so you don’t end up destroying your own home,” I said. Without waiting for a response, I exited the shack and took a deep breath of fresh air. It really does stink in there, I thought. I had passed by one of the “latrines” on the way to the cabin, a simple semi-elevated building with a wooden box on the bottom to contain the waste, and the boards Aaljh used for his cabin looked like they were taken from one. How does water drain out of this place? I wondered, There must be holes in the bedrock, now that I think about it.

“Sorry about the smell,” Aaljh said sheepishly as he pulled his door back into place.

“No worse than a city,” I replied.

“So did you-” Aaljh began, and I removed the copper ticket from my pocket to show him. “What sort of job?”

“Cleaning in fifty-eight days,” I replied. “I need to get out of here sooner than that, but I’m not about to get shot by one of the guards doing it, so I’m looking to trade someone.”

“The way you’re talking, it sounds like you’re planning to… escape,” Aaljh said nervously.

“And if I was?” I asked, glaring at him.

“You shouldn’t!” Aaljh insisted. “You’ll just get killed, or worse!”

“Worse?” I asked sarcastically.

“The last guy who tried to escape was used as target practice for the guards,” Aaljh said. “He’s still got pieces of wire stuck in him, or so I’ve heard. You can see him limping around sometimes, he’s in constant pain.”

“Wire?” I wondered aloud. “Aren’t they using, er, spear-rifles?” I stumbled with the last word, awkwardly merging znoyp and rayfahl together into one word. Using “rifle” to describe what was almost certainly a smoothbore weapon felt a bit wrong, as well.

“Those are special rifles for prisons,” Aaljh explained. “They, um, uh… How much do you know about rifles?” I almost laughed at the question, which was made even more amusing by the fact that I was probably the progenitor of the weapon in this world.

“I know enough,” I replied with a smirk. “They use an explosive powder to launch a projectile at high speeds, it’s not that complex of a concept.”

“Do you have them in your country too?” Aaljh asked, sounding very surprised. “I thought they were forbidden to, er… export.”

“How are the guards’ rifles special?” I asked back, ignoring his question.

“Oh, yes, uh,” Aaljh stuttered. “Well, without having one here it’s hard to… um…” tapping himself all over with his hands, he found what he was looking for and removed a small piece of charcoal that was stuck between his pants and his waist. “Look here,” he said, drawing a simple diagram on the boards of his cabin. “This is a, uh, normal Zae’ey’yaob rifle.” As I suspected, there was little in the way of mechanical parts, just a tube that was mounted into a handle and could be opened on the back end, apparently.

“Simple,” I remarked.

“Exactly, once you know the trick it’s very easy to use,” Aaljh said with a quick nod. “Though I haven’t seen one, I think the guards’ rifles are more like this.” Aaljh drew another weapon, this time with a barrel that forked, with one end going into the handle and another going back straight. Then he added the spear projectile and showed it connecting to a line that sat in the handle of the weapon off the lower fork of the barrel.

“So what is that?” I asked, gesturing to the line.

“A spool of wire,” Aaljh said. “It’s like a fishing line, but made of metal instead of reeds and twice as thick. Sharp too. Must be worth dozens of ngoywngeyt for just one spool since it’s so springy. Normal steel doesn’t do that.”

“I see,” I muttered. Even though I was almost certain the design was more complicated than Aaljh’s idea of it, what he was describing was basically a spear-fishing gun. I wasn’t sure if the line was intended to allow the guard to reel in the prisoner or if breaking off in the wound after overpenetration was the desired effect, but either option would slow down or cripple a target. “Why not use crossbows though?” I muttered quietly to myself, raising the obvious question.

“Too slow,” Aaljh replied, surprising me. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, explain,” I said. “Why would a crossbow be too slow? Surely loading this weapon would be slower than loading a bolt.”

“Not the loading, the projectile,” Aaljh said. “Some of the people here can catch a bolt with magic but a rifle shoots too fast for that. That’s why they’re so effective against Rehvites. Um, not that, um, I didn’t mean…” Aaljh’s eyes were wide when I looked back over at him, and he had backed away from me with his hands open, trying to look submissive.

“I’m not a Rehvite and I don’t take offense to any of that,” I grumbled. “You know a lot about guns, why?”

“What’s a gahnz?” Aaljh asked.

“I mean rifles,” I quickly corrected. “Is this knowledge common?”

“Er, well, uh,” Aaljh began, attempting to begin a sentence. “I was a smith’s apprentice, so I’ve seen a few being made before. I also shot one in Kahvahrniydah when I was still a boy, during the first assault of the city when Lord Aavspeyjh unveiled them for the first time.” His last words left a ringing in my ears, and I felt a surge of emotion that I had to withstand without reacting.

“When you were still a boy,” I said slowly.

“Yes,” Aaljh confirmed.

“How long ago was that?” I asked, taking a deep breath.

“Seven years, about,” Aaljh replied, and the sensation that ripped through my whole body felt like being electrocuted. “Are you alright?” Aaljh asked, apparently noticing my distress.

“I’m fine,” I said. “I just thought you were a bit older, it’s surprising.” It felt like I couldn’t hear my own words properly.

“Well, my father always did say I looked old for my age,” Aaljh joked, rubbing the back of his head. Meanwhile, I was shouting down my own thoughts to keep them from panicking as my heart tried to slam its way through my sternum. Why are you shocked by this? I yelled in my internal voice at the human instincts, It’s just time, we were in stasis so it’s not like we’ve suffered any physical degradation. Stop panicking. There will be plenty of time to think about this later, we aren’t even on topic anymore.

“The job ticket,” I said, bringing the main point of the conversation back to the forefront, and re-centering my thoughts on the present. “Do you know anyone who has one for a more recent job that I could trade for?”

“You can’t seriously still be thinking of-” Aaljh protested.

“This is part of the payment,” I reminded him. Aaljh winced, then shook his head and looked away.

“I don’t know,” he said after a few seconds. “Those two you, er, beat up earlier… they might know someone. Nobody talks to me here except to… nevermind.” Well, I did leave them alive with the expectation that they might be useful, I sighed.

“Am I correct in assuming they won’t want to trade peacefully?” I asked. Aaljh looked at me with an expression that said everything that needed to be said. “Is there anyone else?”

“Most gangs try to get valuable assignments and hoard them,” Aaljh said. “You could try another gang, but they keep tickets based on value and I think you said you wanted to get a job soon, right?”

“Right,” I nodded.

“I heard Shayng, that’s one of the guys you beat up, saying his friend was going outside the wall in a few days,” Aaljh said. “Something in the city, I think it was for sewer cleaning.”

“The kind of work doesn’t matter,” I replied. A weird impulse came over me, and after a second I spoke up again. “Thank you,” I muttered.

“You’re not as scary as you look,” Aaljh replied with a small smile, and the expression washed away the mess of incoherent thoughts in my mind and replaced them with just two: disgust and concern. Both were unnecessary, but the operator’s words rang in my head again. “That body of yours knows more than you give it credit for, listen to it a little more.”

“Do you plan to survive in here?” I asked, my tone deadly serious.

“Er, um, yes?” Aaljh replied uncertainly, as though the question was supposed to be difficult.

“Don’t ever say something like that to someone here again,” I ordered him. “These people, the dangerous ones at least, are the kind I understand pretty well. You look weak, and compared to them you probably are weak. You need to either stop looking weak or stop being weak unless you want one of them to eventually kill you.”

“I… uh, I’ve never been much for fighting,” Aaljh replied, looking ashamed. It was incredible how such a large human could make himself appear so small just through body language.

“Go find a non-hostile Rehvite and have them read the book of Rehv to you so you can blend in,” I advised. “You don’t have to believe it, but right now it wouldn’t take more than a few words for them to pick you out as not being one of them. Adopt their culture, at least in appearance. Humans attack outgroups before ingroups, and you are in the outgroup. Can you fire a rifle like the one you drew there?”

“Yes?” Aaljh replied, tilting his head.

“It’s done by heating the powder inside with magic, right?” I asked.

“Yes, with a magic technique called znoypeymsvihy,” Aaljh confirmed. Ghostly, no, ethereal fire, I translated, struggling with the first part of the word, I suppose that’s one way to think about it. Hopefully it’s a generic heating technique and not overly specialized for igniting black powder.

“A technique that allows you to heat things you can’t see,” I added for clarity.

“Yes,” Aaljh repeated. “It’s easy enough to do, but we don’t have any rifles so I don’t see how-”

“If someone tries to mess with you, just grab them on the forehead and use that same technique on their brain with as much power as you can,” I said. “If you do it right, it’ll kill them in just a few seconds. If you do it wrong, it’s still better than doing nothing.” Aaljh looked like the very idea was about to make him sick, but he nodded to show he understood before I walked off.

The cost of food was extraordinarily high, as I found out. Anything that looked even remotely decent to eat was worth more than I was willing to pay, and in many cases more than I would have been able to pay even if I was willing. It really put into perspective how generous the old woman was being when she had given me a proper meal. Thankfully, every economy is tiered to some extent, so by simply going below “decent” food and into “looks edible enough” I managed to find something to munch on during the afternoon while I walked around looking for the gang members: A cooked scavenger bird.

As late afternoon came, I got bored of wandering aimlessly and found a reasonably secluded spot to sit down and try to catch a bird of my own. Besides the occasional insect, they were the only non-human animal life I had seen in the prison. They resembled a cross between a corvid and a pigeon, with dark feathers on most of their bodies but a chunkier physique than most corvids tended to have. Setting out the remains of the stick and skeleton of the bird I had eaten, I stepped back with a small, sharp rock in hand and waited. Before long one of the birds landed nearby and began pecking at the ground, examining the food remains as it did so.

Just as I was about to shoot it with the rock, a knife flew over my shoulder, missing both me and the bird but scaring my prey away. I had the sudden urge to kill whoever threw it, but when they spoke up I contained myself.

“You seytoydh missed,” the voice of one of the thugs that had been harassing Aaljh said. Luck must be on my side today, I thought with a small smile.

“Hey moron, you made me miss,” the other one called out. Reminding myself that I needed to at least know which one was Shayng to get the information I needed, I slowly stood up, then turned around to face them. “You,” the thug on the left snarled, curling back his upper lip. His still-armed friend also raised his hands into a fighting position when he recognized me.

“Which one of you two is Shayng?” I asked, preparing to shoot the rock I had sitting in my palm.

“Won’t matter when we’re done kicking your ass,” the unarmed thug growled.

“I heard that a friend of Shayng is going outside the wall soon,” I continued, shifting my glare between them. “I want to trade tickets with him.”

“Zvawr’s going out?” the unarmed man asked, directing his question at the armed man. A quarter of a second later he clutched at his throat, choking on blood as he fell to the ground. Shayng took a step back to get into a more defensive stance, protecting his jaw with his non-weapon hand and keeping the knife in a reverse grip. Judging by the expression on his face, the rock moved too quickly for him to see what happened.

“Make this easy,” I advised as the other thug clawed at his windpipe, trying to pull out a rock that had already been healed into his neck and was partially suffocating him. “Take me to Zvawr so that I can get his ticket, and I won’t have to kill you and your friend here. With any luck, you’ll never see me again after I go out on assignment.”

“Yeyhhayseytay!” Shayng yelled, charging me and throwing a straight punch with his knife hand. His movements were painfully obvious, even compared to some of the lesser-trained humans I had fought, and in one smooth movement, I grabbed his outstretched arm and threw him over my shoulder to the ground. One twist later, he was on his belly and I had the knife in my left hand while I held his arm in an outstretched lock with my right.

“Tell me where Zvawr is or you’ll be leaving without a hand, assuming you leave at all,” I said. Shayng tried to struggle but predictably avoided dislocating his shoulder even though it would heal almost instantly because it would have been extremely painful. I could tell he knew a bit of internal force magic just from the power he was able to muster, but it wasn’t nearly enough to break my grip. Once he realized I wasn’t letting go, I began to feel an electric current creep up my wrist and numb my hand, but I had expected to be shocked and had already made sure to bolster my resistance.

I had never used alternating current against a human in combat before since massive static discharges were generally more useful, but I figured I could try it at least once, so as Shayng’s technique petered out I tested my own version, using the visualization of an oscillating electric field. Once I felt magic being used, I concentrated more on the sensation of the magic itself than the image in my mind and upped the output. Shayng began to groan and convulse, then started to stutter out a vocalization. I let up on my attack in response to let him speak.

“Okay, I’ll take you to him,” Shayng offered.

“Do you honestly think I’m that stupid?” I asked. “What does he look like and where does he live?” I started to cut into Shayng’s wrist, sawing the knife back and forth slowly but not doing much real damage.

“Long hair, to his waist!” Shayng cried. “Blonde, like mine! Red eyes! Big nose!”

“Where?” I demanded, digging the blade in further and pressing it against one of the tendons of Shayng’s thumb.

“Not far! I’ll show you, alright?” Shayng pleaded. “He’s not gonna trade you though. Please, just don’t cut my hand off. I won’t be able to work for weeks if you do.” The other thug was now doubled over and coughing up blood, wheezing whenever he inhaled. He looked at me, eyes red and bloodshot, with a fearful expression. In response, I loosened my grip on Shayng’s arm, letting him scamper away and get to his feet.

“I’ll be keeping this for now,” I said, gesturing to the knife. “If you try to run you’ll be getting it in the back.”

“Help Vaalz first,” Shayng said, pointing to his friend.

“He can help himself,” I replied, pointing a short distance away. “The other knife is over there. All he has to do is cut the rock out of his windpipe before he chokes on it. Shouldn’t be too hard.” Both men looked at me with the same bewildered expression, as if they couldn’t understand what I had just said. “Or I could kill him, your stares are making me think that’s a good idea,” I added. The stares broke immediately.

I wondered how Shayng hadn’t been killed by other prisoners due to his sheer stupidity as he led me around in a circle for the third time. It was painfully obvious that he had no intention of leading me to his friend after the first five minutes, but I couldn’t quite figure out exactly what he was trying to do. Initially, I had thought he was delaying me and waiting for backup to arrive, but after the second loop around the small collection of buildings we had spent nearly twenty minutes walking around, more than enough time for planned backup to arrive if any was coming. Let’s just skip to the end, I thought.

“Stop,” I ordered, and he surprisingly complied instead of bolting.

“We’ll be there in-” Shayng began.

“No, we won’t,” I grumbled. “Where are you actually trying to take me?”

“To Zvawr-” Shayng lied.

“We have looped around this area three times,” I said. “It’s very obvious you are misdirecting me. However, since I still need to get out of here I’m going to give you a chance to not get yourself killed and just tell me what your plan is.”

“I don’t have a-” Shayng started to lie again.

“You sure want to die, don’t you?” I snapped, gesturing with the knife to emphasize my point. “Let me guess, you’re trying to take me to your boss? If not that, then someone stronger than you who can beat me up or kill me.”

“When he finds me he’s going to rip your seytoydh heart out,” Shayng seethed.

“Your boss?” I asked again. “That’s who you’re trying to find?”

“That’s right,” Shayng replied smugly.

“Is he the boss of the whole gang?” I asked.

“The whole gang,” Shayng replied, grinning malevolently as though what he said was anything but good news to me. “He was a city guard captain in Awrehrehzha before it was overrun.” So likely no threat to me then, I thought, snorting derisively, I’ll just make sure to have an exit path in case things go sour.

“I have an offer for you,” I said. “Bring me to your boss but arrange for the meeting to be peaceful so I can negotiate for what I want. That way you get to keep your life, and I still get what I want.”

“And why would I do that?” Shayng scoffed. “The Yoyjhtkawjh isn’t some petty gang, you won’t win in a fight with us.” Whatever the word he used was, I couldn’t figure out what it meant except that it was the name of his organization.

“If you refuse I’ll kill you right here, cut your head off, bring it back to your friend as evidence, then make him a far less generous offer than the one I just made you,” I countered. Shayng sneered at me, then doubled over as the knife shot out of my grip and into his belly at the behest of my force magic. “You can have that back,” I said. “As a gesture of good faith.”

“Yeyhhayseytay…” Shayng groaned as he pulled the weapon out of his gut slowly.

“Think about this before you get up,” I warned. “If I gave your weapon back to you, I’m either very stupid or so much stronger than you that it makes no difference to me in combat. Would you like to find out which option is the correct one, or have our previous two fights been enough for you to figure it out?”

The previous fights were enough, apparently.