A little over a week later, Aralim and his friends stood aboard the deck of a ship out of Maykren. It was one of a dozen cargo vessels that made the journey at any given time, and served the Walkers just right.
Leaning on the rail, Nilless surveyed the passing forests of Numa’nakres—thick, matted rainforests. The humid air stirred her brown locks, but they were all slick with sweat. “Seems like a bold move to just leave Maykren,” Nill pointed out. “It shows the gang you’re not going to wait on their whim.”
Aralim blinked. Did she think otherwise? “…because I’m not,” he murmured.
“We don’t really wait on others for anything,” Miresh said, smiling despite the bluntness.
That brought a grin to Aralim’s face. He looked at Nill again. “Waiting for a reply gives them power over us. Their information is not so important that we can’t come back for it,” he explained.
“Of course. And I suppose it would be all backwards to fret about offending a gang of criminals.” Nill’s humour seemed weaker than theirs—it faded quicker. “You both see things so much clearer than even those of my home. I sometimes worry what will come of the demands given by Yarik.”
Aralim remembered the unsettling sight of animated corpses, shambling through the scalding sands to stand at the threshold of Tal’lashar. It was a world away, but of course Nill would still struggle with such horrors falling upon her home. “Yarik will leach off Tal’lashar and grow stronger, until it has drained so much that it needs a new host. Perhaps then it will set sights on Rema.”
“That’s quite a distance.” Nill stood up and crossed her arms, looking away from the passing coast. “Surely there are closer targets. Ith perhaps. I should return one day and do what I can to help my people survive.”
Nill had been a fascinating and encouraging companion on the road. More than that, perhaps—but regardless, Aralim would miss her if she returned to her home. Nonetheless, he offered, “When he returns, Rattar could teleport you there. He is against the dark magics used in Yarik—he might even lend a hand.”
“That would be good. I can’t imagine anyone in Tal’lashar having the power to actually deal with Yarik directly,” Nill said.
Waves splashed against the hull of their ship—the only sound for a few moments.
“We’ve gone a bit off topic though, haven’t we?” Nill asked, forcing a laugh. “What awaits us in Keb’kres?”
Aralim glanced at Miresh. “If I already knew that, I don’t know if we’d even bother going there.”
“Should we seek out Dullah’s husband?” Miresh asked. She leaned her back against the rail of the ship, using her toned forearms to support her. The tattooed reed cat on her shoulder was its usual stoic self. “He is part of the city’s government, I thought.”
“That could be a start,” Aralim considered. “Though, they weren’t particularly close, to my understanding.”
“I didn’t even know she was married,” Nill chuckled.
“Do you have any goals? Investigating Tussom seemed a main priority in Maykren,” Miresh pointed out.
Aralim shrugged. “No, but…perhaps that’s for the best. A fresh look at the world.”
“It has been a while.”
Nill was looking at them thoughtfully throughout the exchange. “If you found something or someone you believed to be further along the Path than the Eternal Emperor, would you stay there?” she asked. “Or would you still return as Ambassador?”
“Well, the Eternal Emperor does make very good tea…” Aralim pondered. He smiled cryptically, then allowed, “Honestly, yes—I would choose to study something greater, but it’s not the Emperor that has my attention anymore.”
Both Miresh and Nill gaped at him. “Oh?” Nill asked.
Aralim rubbed his beard and then spread his hands to gesture around them. “It’s his Empire. He is just the roots of a massive tree. A kapok to rule kapoks.”
“Interesting,” Nill muttered.
Miresh nodded understandingly. They had often thought of the kapok tree—with its great roots and great reach over the canopy of the forest—as an inspiration on their Path. “Do you think the Empire itself is a spirit of sorts—and one further along the Path than the Emperor himself?”
“The spirit of the Great Smith?” Aralim asked, with a wink.
Here in Numa’nakres, the citizens of the Empire believed in grand personified spirits that were very much concerned with the goings-on of their lesser. In the homeland of the Path, the spirits were simply those who had moved so far along the Path as to become forces of nature itself, reckoning with their own goals and not concerning themselves with the business of mere mortals.
“His Ascendance works hard to keep this Empire alive. I know that much to be true,” Aralim explained. “So, what motivates him to do so? That question—that is the nature of finding our way along the Path.”
“I never thought of that,” Miresh said. Nill seemed wrapped in thought. Aralim’s youngest friend continued, “Even the Emperor is subservient to something.”
Just then, a deep voice called out across the deck, “Miresh!” It was Master Velad’na whose weathered features and windswept beard had emerged from the hatch to below deck. “It’s time for meditation!”
Miresh sighed. “Poor timing…as always.”
Aralim couldn’t help but notice the irony.
“I could stay and continue discussing, but I know it’s important to practice. For me,” she decided. She started to head toward her Master.
“It is,” Aralim agreed. “There’s a difference between being subservient—and being diligent.” He lifted a hand to usher her on her way.
Nill and Aralim glanced at one another, then back out across the waves of Trader’s Bay. Another ship was passing, heading southeast. The sun lit the scattered clouds overhead with gold trim—but it only brought out sweat at Aralim’s grey-brown hairline.
“What now?” Nill asked, glancing sideways at him. “Should we find some food?”
Aralim smiled. “There’s subservience, diligence, and, of course, sustenance. Let’s go.”
The wind swept at the thin, long skirts that Nill wore. She had shed her traditional Tal blouses for a linen top that left her midriff bare. Aralim, on the other hand, always wore a durable traveler’s cloak. He hoped he would soon grow more accustomed to the Numa heat—but even after a few years, it seemed little had changed. He missed the cool evenings of his home, though he was certain this was the right place for him to be. He imagined Nill felt the same.
They clambered down the ladder to the below deck, ready to seek out the mess hall. Nill paused for Aralim to descend after her, but before he could lead the way through the narrow corridor, she grabbed the cuff of his sleeve. Aralim blinked and looked at her.
“I see the world like I’ve never seen it before, thanks to you,” Nill said, looking him in the eye with a softness to him still unknown. She leaned in to kiss him, and Aralim let her. Their lips met, breathlessly, and they could only join for a moment before the heat, swaying ship, and need for air separated them. Nill was grinning—Aralim wasn’t sure what expression his face held. Instead, he squeezed her hand, happily, and led the way toward the mess hall.