Beyond the black-stained houses with their caved-in roofs was the stone pillars and collapsed walls of the warehouse—the origin of the fire that had burned through the harbour that first night Aralim had arrived in Maykren. Aralim, Miresh, and Nill stood in front of it, surveying the damage. Narr and the Aura waited nearby, watching quietly as usual.
Master Velad’na had, once again, preferred the company of his books and studies to the pursuits and investigations of the Ambassador. Miresh was happy to accompany the Walker, however. Aralim crossed his arms, the weaving wooden cords of his lantern staff in the crook of his elbow. “So, what have you learned in your studies about the spread of fires?”
Miresh pursed her lips, stepping closer to the edge of the ashen warehouse. “The longer it burns in place, the more powerful it gets—until it runs out of fuel, that is. But you can see in there…there’s nothing. The flames burned for a long time before they were put out or died out. The other buildings—once the fire consumed the roof of the warehouse and started to spread, it was extinguished before it got as severe.”
“That would be the start, then,” Aralim said, “and maybe also where the most fuel was, but I’m suspicious.”
“Well, so was the city watch,” Miresh said, pragmatically. “They think it’s arson. This is not the first fire of the year.”
Nill walked forward to Miresh’s side and lifted the hem of her red and grey skirt to keep it from the coal-like debris. “Do you suspect the fire started elsewhere?” She looked along the line of the buildings toward the nearest house.
“Grain is extremely flammable,” Aralim pointed out. “We had a few fires back in my youth. It would be hard to start the fire and get away from it in time. Similarly, why burn the grain?”
Nill looked back at him. “Could it be related to the economy, the taxes? Someone lost a lot of money here,” she gestured around them with her arms spread, “so maybe someone else is making more?”
Aralim strode past the both of them, dragging his rough traveller’s cloak through the dusty, grimy ground. He climbed over a fallen wooden beam—marred by cinders and flaked away from the damage—and he began to look around the patterns of ash throughout the husk of the warehouse. They had been in Maykren for weeks, but there was no word from Mad Raely. Of course, it was a month-long voyage down the Ake’ma for word of the financial transaction to reach the gang in Maykren. In the meantime, Aralim was looking for a connection between Tussom’s disappearance and the periodic fires that damaged properties across the delta.
“A series of arsons over a financial dispute? That would be possible if they all targeted the same owner…” Aralim mused, as he led them through the wreckage.
Miresh tapped her own lantern staff. “Or the same industry.”
Nill and the Emperor’s servants followed from a distance now, more careful than Aralim and Miresh. Eventually, Aralim and Miresh emerged on the other side of the warehouse to analyze the nearby buildings that had been burned as well. It was there that Aralim spotted a small scorch mark on one of the old stone blocks that composed the street.
“This is what I’m looking for,” Aralim murmured, kneeling to examine the scorch. There was no fire trail near it—this was not where a piece of fiery debris had landed. Something had been lit here, likely to be thrown into the warehouse from this distance. He used his lantern staff to rise to his feet once more. “Well, that’s enough for today.”
It was a long walk back to the inn, across several bridges and one wide river over which they needed to ferry. As they disembarked from the rowboat, Miresh caught up to Aralim and asked him, “Who do you think did it?”
“Someone more like me than like you, I imagine.” Aralim rubbed his sweaty beard and looked down at her—though Miresh seemed taller every day. “The fire was lit at that spot I found and then thrown in. I imagine a magician wouldn’t have the need.”
“Actually, it’s incredibly rare to come across a magician that can start fire without a source,” Miresh explained, smiling. She had missed their adventures when he had journeyed to Tal’lashar without her. “Remember, magic lets me manipulate the world and replicate things that naturally occur—but under my control. Unless a magician has found and studied some means of combustion that doesn’t require flint and steel, a secondary source of fire, or some flammable substance, the most they can do is manipulate a fire that has already been started.”
Aralim nodded, processing what she had said. “Then perhaps this doesn’t rule out our missing wizard friend after all.”
“But what motivation would he have? For burning down a granary?”
“What motive would he have for dying?” Aralim returned. It made little sense.
Miresh laughed, her fair voice carrying over the noise of the markets around them. Narr followed from a safe distance, but the pedestrians in the muddy road parted ways for the Ambassador and his companion. “I think most people don’t plan to die…” she joked. Then she paused, her steps slowing before quickening so she could catch up. “Master Velad’na has me practising the fundamentals of teleportation still. Now, you and I think it’s unlikely Tussom would die in such a fashion, but also unlikely that he would fake his death in this way, too. Neither seems believable. What if…what if he teleported himself? That would explain why they couldn’t find him in the waves.”
“That would be the easiest answer,” Aralim said, considering the strange magic of Journeying. “Perhaps it’s correct, and Tussom will appear again in many years.”
Miresh frowned. “I suppose that doesn’t help us much for the time being, if that’s the case.”
“Well, if it is the case—we’d better just keep on walking,” Aralim said, with a small smile.
They paced around a wagon that obstructed the street, getting nods from the workmen that were in the process of unloading it. Aralim wondered how many would recognize the lantern staves, now that the nearby city of Old Numa had its own “cloister” of sorts.
Miresh piped up once more, though they were nearly back at the inn. “Where next, do you think? Old Numa or Keb’kres?”
Aralim would enjoy socializing with Ukanna and Chotha more, in Old Numa, but that was not the way of the Path. He had been to Old Numa thrice now, and had never been to Keb’kres, another major city on Trader’s Bay. “The latter, I think,” he told Miresh. “Eventually.” They still had several unanswered questions in Maykren—what had happened to Master Tussom? Would the Eternal Emperor pay Mad Raely’s contact? What of the apparent arson?
Right now, Aralim’s walking was all within the city’s bounds.