Aralim 112

In Old Numa, Aralim finally went back ashore.  He had not bothered when they resupplied in Hawsi.  After all, he had no interest in reacquainting with Gathim, his would-be assassin, whom they had left there the year prior.  Unlike that fateful voyage to Hawsi, Aralim had only pleasant memories of Old Numa.  He went ashore to retrace his steps with Miresh and to remember those simpler days.

Nill followed him and the Aura trailed behind her.  They walked across the crowded docks, trying to stay together as their progress was interrupted by wheelbarrows, throngs of merchants, and women bearing wooden platters of fish or sliced fruit.  Aralim remembered the festivities that had crowded the docks during his very first visit to this city; the people of Old Numa had been overjoyed to see the return of one of the floating towns, the coupled barge named His Fifth Vision.

The city was as busy and bustling as it had ever been.  Unlike Rema, the people of Old Numa were a varying collection of immigrants and locals.  There were more people with Aralim’s complexion than there had been in Varravar, but something was different about them.  Instead of seeming like a collection of people in transition through the world, the eclectic mix seemed inherently at home here.  This was something core to their identity.

On the way deeper into Old Numa, Aralim passed the guardhouse where he had addressed the freed slaves.  Two sentries leaned out doors, chatting quietly.  More could be seen inside, sitting around a table.  Aralim smiled.  He had met Hayan here, a few years ago.  Now they had both come so far.

Aralim walked onward after telling Nill about it.  They wandered down the narrow streets, where people lived in houses built on top of other houses and streets sometimes ran across roofs.  It was incredible to imagine life like this, living underneath someone else.

And then, at last, they came upon the house where the slaves had been kept.  Hayan had pushed one of their slave-keepers off that very roof—but wait, there had never been lights around the edge.  Now a dozen lanterns hung along the balcony walls and more adorned the doorway.  The lanterns were set in stained paper foils of four different colours: blue, green, red, and white.  Aralim continued down the street toward it and paused once more when he was close enough to read the paper sign on the door: “All Welcome.”

“Those remind me of your lantern,” Nill said, but Aralim was already striding toward the door.

Inside, Aralim found a comfortable sitting room occupied by a single elderly woman.  She smiled when she saw him.  An adjacent door led to the cupboards and counters of a kitchen.

“Oh, afternoon, friend.  How can I help you?” the woman asked.

Aralim bowed his head politely.  “I saw the lanterns and thought I would look inside.  I met a friend here years ago, but it wasn’t so welcoming a place back then.”

The woman raised her eyebrows.  “No, I have heard that.  Your friend—captor or captive?”

Aralim’s scruffy beard was dried out from his weeks at sea, but he had brushed his hair recently.  Nonetheless, he could understand her concern.  “He was a captive.  He freed himself and his friends.  Do you… live here now?”

“We come and go,” the woman said, with a slight crack to her voice.  Someone started coming downstairs, bending wooden floor boards with a slight creak.  The woman smiled and raised a hand to gesture to the open staircase behind her.  “Maybe it’s him?”

The man who entered the room exclaimed at once, “Aralim?!”  He had dark skin and a thick, but short-trimmed beard.  The scars on his face are what gave away his familiarity to Aralim.

“Ukanna,” Aralim said, smiling.  He stepped into the room and offered his old travelling companion his hand.  “I guess I should have expected to see you.”

“Welcome back to Numa’nakres, my old friend,” Ukanna said, clasping Aralim’s hand and patting his shoulder.  He turned to the woman, “Chotha, this is Aralim, the Emperor’s Ambassador and a true Walker of the Path.”  Turning back to Aralim, Ukanna said, “Sit down, sit down.  Can I get you anything?”

Aralim blinked and chose a seat.  Ukanna disappeared into the kitchen while Aralim considered what to say.  He knows about my Ambassadorship? Aralim puzzled.

“You said he had a lantern on his staff.  That’s why we hung all the ones outside,” Chotha called to the bustling man.  She smiled at Aralim without opening her lips.

“That’s right.”  Ukanna emerged from the kitchen and looked at Aralim’s walking stick.  “What happened to your staff?”

“It was destroyed during a fight with some bandits…  I suppose it exploded…”

Nill sank into the chair next to Aralim, while the Aura stood nearby.

“You were fighting bandits?” Ukanna called, returning to the kitchen.  The old ex-slave and cooper fumbled with dishes for a moment and then returned to the doorway once more.  “I’m brewing tea—will you have a cup?”

Aralim nodded.  “A cup of tea would be marvelous.  We were attacked east of the Eye.  It was quite the ordeal.”

“Sounds like it,” Chotha replied.

A few moments passed wordlessly before Ukanna emerged from the kitchen with a kettle and several cups.  He poured tea for Chotha, Aralim, Nill, and the Aura.  The latter held the cup, but never drank from it.

“How long will you be in Old Numa?” Ukanna asked.  “There are several others I’m certain would like to meet you.”

Aralim shrugged.  He sipped his tea—it tasted strongly of ginseng, though there were other herbs in it as well.  He cleared his throat and told his friend, “We just arrived.  We’re making our way back as quickly as we’re able.  Are you traveling with a new group of Walkers now?” He pointed his thumb toward the door.

“Not travelling,” Ukanna replied.  “We all have jobs here in Old Numa, but we believe in the Path.  I figured not everyone in your homeland ‘walks’ the Path.  But we look for it in our daily lives and share that here each week.”

Chotha nodded.  “I live here.  No sense paying for empty property the rest of the days.”

“It’s true.  This house brings back a lot of memories of my homeland.  I quite miss seeing lanterns everywhere,” Aralim said with a smile.

Ukanna grinned.  “I’m glad to hear it.”

“So, how did you know of my Ambassadorship?  I haven’t even been in Numa’nakres since last year.”  Aralim knew Tag’na’s birthday had only recently passed.  It would now be the year 277 in this Empire.

“You served on the ‘people’s court’ before that,” Ukanna pointed out.  “You would be surprised how many people have already heard of the Path, let alone that you were selected as Ambassador.  You’re a household name, my friend.”

“Now isn’t that a thought.”  Aralim sipped his tea with a straight face.  He had not suspected his status to spread across the Empire like this.  Nill looked happy for him.  Aralim wondered what the public would think of his actions at the Eye of Maga, escaping the bandits and managing to get healing for Lerela.

“Is it good, that I’ve been doing this?  I didn’t know what was for everyone and what was reserved for a Walker,” Ukanna said.  “I sent some letters to the capital for you, to this end, but you had already gone and Hayan replied.  He seemed to think this would be good.  You know, starting something for the Path here.”

“That’s the important thing about the Path: if it wasn’t the right thing, it wouldn’t work, would it?  Walkers are just followers of the Path who travel.  They have no exclusive rights to anything on the Path… except for maybe callouses on their feet,” Aralim explained, with a chuckle.  Nill laughed even louder than him.

Ukanna nodded.  “Good.  That was my impression.  Should we have lantern staffs?  Is there a ritual to gaining one?” he questioned.

Aralim shrugged.  “Traditionally, staffs are made and given, but I see no reason you can’t make your own or just make them for each other.  There’s no ritual.  Just a habit.”

“Great.  A few of us were taken with the idea,” Ukanna said.  He took a long drink of his tea and puckered his lips.  Then he blinked as though startled.  “Where are my manners?  Who are your friends?  I am Ukanna.  I was one of the slaves that got freed when Aralim first passed through Old Numa.  We travelled to Maykren together—Hayan, Laney, Aralim, Miresh, and myself.  Back in the simpler days.”

Nill smiled.  “I’m Nilless,” she said.  “I’ve been travelling with Aralim since Tal’lashar.”

Ukanna smiled at her, and looked back to Aralim.

Aralim held a hand toward the orange robed man standing next to Nill.  “And this is Aura,” he said.  “I wish I had a proper name to introduce him by, but he doesn’t talk.”

“I’m familiar with the Aura, though I’ve never met one,” Ukanna said.  He turned back to the Aura and awkwardly added, “Welcome.”

The Aura, to Aralim’s surprise, bowed his head politely.  Aralim wished he could know the Aura’s name.

“Listen,” Aralim said.  “Why don’t I fetch my other companions?  We can all eat dinner here, together.”  He stood up and set his empty teacup down on the platter Ukanna had rested on a chair beside him.

“Of course,” Ukanna said.

Aralim passed Ukanna his money pouch; the man’s eyes grew as large as coins when he looked at its content.  It was a splendid evening—Ukanna’s “Path House” filled with ten more followers and Devran’s eyebrows rose an inch at the sight of so many believers.  He didn’t seem perturbed; his mouth didn’t quirk like it often did when Aralim spoke of his own Path.  At one point, Devran asked Ukanna what he believed about the Emperor.  Ukanna cleverly replied, “I believe some gods are further along the Path than others.”  Devran shrugged.  Clearly Ukanna could handle him better than Aralim.

The evening’s antics were a welcome respite from the vast journey.  The next day, they would set sail once more.  Maykren would bring them onto the Ake’ma River, and then, at last, they would reach Rema, the capital of the West.

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