The riverboat drifted into the docks of Maykren in the early evening on the 9th and Aralim disembarked with the Aura, hurrying across the city boardwalks in his new city clothes. He quickly put distance between himself and Grendar’s guards, who had disembarked on the shore just beyond the docks. For now, Aralim was not the Ambassador of the Empire—he was another of many merchants, labourers, and couriers that frequented the Ake’ma River.
As the sun began to approach the looming jungle horizon, Aralim approached a few of the loiterers near the Iron River Tavern. He singled out those who were armed and whose eyes were already scouring the passersby. Getting a strange look from them, he said that he was seeking Mad Raely or Nalembar. Then, he wandered inside.
Over an hour later, Nalembar arrived at the Iron River with an entourage of armed grunts and at least one servant who Aralim suspected was a slave. Aralim approached the bar and refilled his teacup from the barkeeper—he had earned strange looks from both the keeper and the patrons when he had first ordered it, but now he was just that peculiar tea-fellow. “Nalembar,” he said, sliding onto the bar stool next to the gangster. “It’s been a while.”
“Do I know you?” Nalembar asked, barely glancing at Aralim. He was a broad man, nearing on the size of Narr. His dark, bushy beard quivered as he drank from a sizeable ale horn. He lowered the vessel and pushed it across the bar for another round.
Aralim smiled. “We met once before. A friend of mine sent you a fairly large sum of money.” He sipped his tea. “I had more hair then.”
Without turning, Nalembar thought about what Aralim meant for a moment. Then his eyes widened, and he turned to one of his supporters—the man sitting on the other side of him. “Fetch Raely—tell her it’s time. We’ll meet her there,” he ordered. Then he turned back to Aralim. “Took you long enough.”
“It was a very long walk,” Aralim said, chuckling.
“I suppose,” Nalembar muttered. “Up for walking a little more? See what your money bought?”
“Of course.”
Nalembar led Aralim and the blue-robed Aura outside into the bluish twilit street. After a few steps, he glanced back, scowled, and paused. Nodding to the armoured guards that had kept a distant tail on Aralim, Nalembar said, “We’ll let you bring one if it makes you feel safer. But not in royal, damned armour.”
“I can try…they’re quite overly protective.” Aralim wandered back past the inn and reunited with Grendar and the guards. “Grendar, you can come if you take the armour off. He won’t take us any farther with a royal entourage.”
Grendar immediately began unstrapping his heavy iron plates and passing them into the pack that Lerela opened for him. Aralim passed Lerela the button from the mysterious Elera and urged her to keep it safe—best not to be spied on during such secret meetings. Inquisitively, Grendar lifted his sword in its scabbard.
“Keep your blade. The rest of you…it’s Grendar’s decision,” Aralim said. He glanced back at Nalembar, hoping they were out of earshot.
To Aralim’s surprise, Grendar did not give them orders to maintain some sort of perimeter. Instead, he told them to meet back at a second location, an inn where Aralim could spend the night. Then Grendar turned to Aralim: “Do you still have that fire powder from the Grand Mage?” Lerela rolled her eyes, remembering the disaster the powder had been a part of last time.
Aralim chuckled. “The same amount as before,” he said. He hoped it did not lose its potency with time.
“After you, sir,” Grendar said with a nod.
With that, Aralim, Grendar, and the blue-robed Aura set out into the falling night with one of Maykren’s most powerful crooks.
Nalembar and his parade of guards took their guests to the shore of one of Maykren’s many delta islets and onto a pair of rowboats. From there, they began a long navigation of the delta, winding between shopping districts and working-class blocks. Aralim wondered if they were intending to create a maze-like route to confound their guests, but they didn’t accomplish it nearly as well as they could have and he maintained a general idea of how to retrace their oaring.
Eventually they ended up grounding the rowboats at a wide alley, of sorts. Aralim realized that the alley was entirely blocked by the backs of the buildings that surrounded it—this place was only accessible by boat, though no dock was built. The beggars that loitered in the alley were armed—disguised warriors on Nalembar’s payroll. They opened a cellar door at the base of one of the buildings and Nalembar led Aralim and his friends down inside.
The staircase was dimly lit by a single lantern, but Aralim paused when he noticed a map of Maykren on the wall. Different locations were indicated—some sort of crime network? Some included identifiers, such as the symbol for currency. Others were just dots of cheap ink. Aralim could not pinpoint his own location on the map, due to a lack of familiarity with the streets and waterways of Maykren.
At the base of the stairs was a wide room, the size of a large cellar. It was lined on one wall with five cots—not enough to base the gang, but perhaps enough for laying low when the guards were searching. On the other wall were two small tables, with a few more of Nalembar’s scoundrels seated around them.
Between the two walls and at the other end of the room was another door. Nalembar led the way toward it, but Aralim paused when he passed the second table. A dark-skinned Numa woman was sharpening a knife as she sat next to her comrades. Something about her features struck Aralim as familiar, but he could not place them.
They entered the room beyond, finding a far smaller chamber with a single table occupying much of its space. At the table sat Mad Raely herself—again unarmed to the untrained eye. The scars zig-zagging her face caught the lantern light as she turned from Aralim’s attention to look at the other man in the room: another Numa that Aralim did not recognize. With an analytic eye, he watched Aralim as they entered. Unlike the others, he was not bulging with muscle or decorated with the memories of old wounds. He seemed out of place here.
“Quite a hairdo, Ambassador,” Raely laughed.
At Nalembar’s behest, Aralim sank into one of the few seats around the meeting table. He smiled to Raely. “I wasn’t sure I wanted people to know I was back in town. It seems to have worked.”
Grendar and the Aura loomed behind Aralim, ready to support him, but not wanting to share the one chair that remained once Nalembar had reclined.
Mad Raely raised an eyebrow at Aralim, but then gave a nod to the stranger at the table. “Introduce yourself Vokor. Aralim has worked hard for this—and we’ve only got the second-best option!”
The more-bookish man rolled his eyes at her jab. “I’m Vokor,” he repeated. “Tussom roped me into his plans a long, long time ago. What Mad Raely means to say, Ambassador, is that my comrade is away at the moment—so I will have to do.” His eyes flicked up to the Aura’s disguise behind Aralim, and then settled back on Aralim once more. If he knew who it was in that blue robe, he did not react in front of Raely and Nalembar.
“Your comrade being Tussom?” Aralim asked. “So, the two of you are still associated? Or rather—you’re all associated?” He gave that last question a slight smile to minimize its accusation.
“Yes. Tussom and I have brokered an agreement with Raely’s gang, for our safety and our secrecy,” Vokor explained. Raely gave a mock salute to punctuate the revelation.
Aralim slowly bobbed his head. “I appreciate the mild breach of your privacy then. Tussom has been identified as a key player in the attacks on the guards of the capital. What are your thoughts on that?”
“We only heard those allegations after they made the rounds in the capital,” Vokor contested. “Master Tussom first became aware of the attacks soon after the first one—a year and a half ago, now—and he has been trying to complete a list of all those involved before risking contact with the Iron Palace again. In the outer cities, the corruption seems to reach very near the top, so secrecy was deemed paramount to maintain our investigation.”
Another spy, Aralim thought. His role as Ambassador—or perhaps his friendship with Tag’na—seemed to fill his life with them. “Sunaza implied the situation was quite different,” Aralim said. “That his family was under threat from Tussom and others, and that he was being forced to enable the attacks.”
“Lord Sunaza was under threat—we believe from Magistrate Kivrad,” Vokor explained. Then he insisted: “Whatever he heard about Tussom was not Tussom’s involvement.”
Aralim leaned back. He could not counter it, for Sunaza had only heard Tussom’s name in passing. If Vokor spoke true, then the conspirators had mentioned Tussom’s name as an enemy, likely.
Of the accusation against Rainrest, Aralim shrugged. “Kivrad certainly seems the type. However, I received a message in my travels that Maykren was the source of this.” Elera had actually implied that he would find answers in Maykren, not necessarily his enemies—but he was trying to draw as much information out of Vokor as he could.
Raely lit up at Aralim’s mention of the source of the attacks. She smiled and taunted, “Oh, this is where it gets good.”
Vokor took a deep breath. “Tussom has uncovered evidence of conspiracy in each of the cities,” he declared.
“The Emperor and I were concerned about that…” Aralim murmured. He tapped the table decisively. “Shall we start local? How bad is Maykren?”
Tussom’s colleague folded his arms. “Maykren is actually doing the best of the cities. The Magistrate may be a fool, but he is a stubborn one. His advisors…well, all of them are in communication with the outlying conspirators, and they are so deft at turning his attention away so they can operate in his blindness.”
“I was supposed to travel east on urgent matters,” Aralim said, with a long sigh. “But you are describing the prologue to the Merciless Days! Is there a solution in mind other than rounding up all the conspirators?” He knew only a little of that dark period of Numa’nakres history—namely that the Emperor had closed the Palace to public and had flooded the streets with the blood of his enemies.
At this, Vokor glanced at Nalembar and gave a slight nod. Nalembar, in turn, gave Mad Raely a look. The two gangsters rose and started toward the door, shuffling past the chairs in the cramped room. As she passed, Raely patted Aralim’s shoulder and said, “If you still mean to head east when you’re done in here, come find me before you leave.”
Once the door had latched, Vokor spoke up again: “We trust the gang with much, but not all.” Then he glanced again at the blue-robed Aura. “I assume I am also speaking to His Ascendance?”
Aralim smiled. “Yes. As well as an esteemed member of the guard. But if you’re willing to meet with me…I assume this is not a problem?”
“Not at all,” Vokor assured him. He looked to the Aura once more, but bowed his head. “Tussom and I have not lost sight, Your Ascendance.”
“Does this mean you have a plan?” Aralim asked.
Vokor nodded. “The beginnings of one. We have learned that a few camps exist—lying beyond the cities themselves—where the militia for these attacks are trained, sheltered, and then dispatched. After even the first attack, moving enough manpower into Rema for the senseless violence they are stirring…well, it would be logistical madness to attempt such a thing quietly. After losing contact with a few magicians, Tussom is quite certain that the assailants are being sent into Rema by means of magic, not coin. This would also explain the odd delays between attacks, which have such an unpredictable pattern.”
“The unpredictability of the teleportation makes the attacks seem random…” Aralim pointed out. “But how many magicians would be required to move such numbers? Grendar, please take a seat. Your insight will likely be more valuable than mine in this discussion.”
Grendar slid into the chair formerly occupied by Nalembar.
“Only a handful,” Vokor answered. “Journeying magic is not the most difficult, simply the most unpredictable. Selayna herself could manage sending an attack or two a year.”
Aralim was not surprised to hear Selayna was involved. Mention of corruption in each city had affirmed Aralim’s suspicions about her.
“So your plan is to eliminate the magicians?” Grendar asked. “It would force the conspirators to either stand down and disperse, or consider more drastic aggression against Rema.”
“It might be better than invading the camps…” Aralim mused.
Vokor cracked a knuckle in one of his hands. “This is why Master Tussom has departed,” he explained. “It is twofold: we believe that a substantial organization has formed in Keb’kres, and there has also been a sighting of Lord Paneran, though it may be too old now to still be accurate.”
“We could port in Keb’kres on our return?” He glanced at Grendar. “I’m not sure what six of us could do today.”
“It wouldn’t cost much time to even check in here,” he pointed out. “I’m sure Vokor can provide more up-to-date news after our eastern endeavors?”
Vokor gave the sergeant a nod. “Perhaps Master Tussom will have even returned by then.”
“In the meantime, is there any support you need?” Aralim asked. “Something that can be done here in Maykren before we leave? I was planning an unscheduled visit to the Magistrate, but he seems to be the least of your concerns.”
“Maykren, for now, is one of the safest cities for our cause. And the gang has proven most valuable—both for their security and for their web of contacts,” Vokor explained. He sighed. “I hear chilling things from the east. May you share in His Ascendance’s favour.”
“Excellent—then we will depart and return with haste,” Aralim said, standing up. Then he paused, while Grendar was walking toward the door. Turning back to Vokor, Aralim asked, “Before I go…do you know a mage named Elera?”
Vokor hesitated uncomfortably. “I’m afraid my knowledge of magicians extends little beyond what Master Tussom has told me. I’ve not heard that name mentioned.”
“Very well. I was just hoping to put a face to the name. Perhaps Tussom will know.”
“Of course,” Vokor said, inclining his head. He gave the Aura a bob, too.
Then Aralim strode out into the larger bunking room. Nalembar and Raely had cleared one of the tables for their own privacy, scattering its prior occupants to the cots or beyond. There was no sign of the woman with the familiar features.
As for Raely’s request, Aralim slid into the chair across from her.
“Got a favour to ask, but I have a feeling the payment you’re looking for isn’t coin?” she asked.
“I’ve never been one for coins,” Aralim said, stretching his hands open. He was so much more free without a staff in them, though he missed its familiar weight. “But I’ll consider the favour anyway.”
“A few years back, one of my gully rats managed to get his grimy hands on my sword. My father’s sword, if you must know,” Mad Raely told him. “This lout goes by the name of Kren. Kren of Maykren. Thank his mother for that one. I’d reward you as you see fit for the blade itself, but you can buy my smile with any leads you can turn up, too.”
“And what has you hoping that I’m more likely to find it than you are?”
Raely shrugged. Beneath all the scars, she looked like a very ordinary woman, not one of exceptional beauty or one with sharp, defining features—but she had accrued more power here than any ordinary woman. “Nothing is,” she said, with a shrug. “But Nalembar here didn’t think spending the Emperor’s fortune on a goose chase of that sort was a good idea, and I had to agree. Mind you…I have sent feelers out before, with little success.”
Aralim smiled. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he said. “I wouldn’t regret you owing me a favour, but my hopes aren’t high.”
“Mine either,” she said, with a casual smile. “Smooth sailing, Walker.”
Aralim stood up, but again turned back. “By the way, who was that woman earlier?” he asked. “There was something familiar about her as we walked by.”
Mad Raely laughed obnoxiously loud. “I told you when I met you that you shared the road with one of our own,” she said. “That was Naeen. Tried to run away from me, that one, but it’s all worked out now.”
Aralim blinked. Naeen had been aboard Yau’s riverboat that first time Aralim and Miresh had navigated up the Ake’ma to the capital. She had been the one to find them a safe place to stay those early days before the Iron Palace and their West Corid Avenue estate, but after the Three Courts, she had grown sullen and had eventually left without any explanation. Aralim now suspected Mad Raely had played a role in Naeen’s disappearance back then, but he didn’t know what specifically. Aralim was never that close with the poor woman, but it was an unexpected connection.
“I suppose her disappearance makes more sense now,” he said. Clearly Raely had a better handle on her Path than Naeen.
As Grendar led the way up the creaky wooden stairs and out of the cellar doors, Aralim spotted Naeen standing with a few other crooks, including some of those disguised as beggars. “Aralim,” she said, with a nod, as he passed.
“Naeen. It’s been a while,” Aralim replied. He wasn’t in the habit of walking by anyone, regardless of how shallow their previous friendship had been.
“It has. Another place, another time.”
Aralim shrugged. “Not really. It never really seemed like you had left this place.”
“I guess I hadn’t…” she murmured. “Always watching the way forward but unable to walk it. Or something religious-sounding like that, right?”
Aralim wasn’t sure if she spoke at his expense or was just trying to be clever. “Something like that,” he replied. “No one will walk to the places you want to before you. You have to do it yourself.”
“Wait,” she said, and came closer. She smelled of alcohol, but seemed sober enough. “Rema wasn’t far enough. Raely still found me, even there. What if…. I need to escape her grasp, you see. I heard them talking while you were still meeting with Vokor. What if I went with you again?”
“What if you got on any of the boats going to distant lands?” Aralim asked. He sighed. “My journey now is urgent business, not a pilgrimage.”
Naeen spread her hands. “I can’t afford a random ship. I’m paid in scraps,” she said. “Kren got away because of the kindness of a ship’s captain, but you know what sort of kindness they’d pay me. Give me another chance—I’ll go right now, when they won’t expect it.”
Looking around, Aralim met Grendar’s “are we really considering this?” expression and shook his head faintly. “It’s time to learn to walk on your own, Naeen,” he replied. “Stow away or fade away—but our voyage is not your escape.” At that, he followed Grendar toward the waiting rowboat.
“Damned Walker!” Naeen called after him. He heard her spit in his direction. “All high and mighty when the going is easy…on your imperial coin…”
Aralim sighed again. Rebutting her would be giving her power over him. He boarded the rowboat and put Naeen behind him. They had a long and arduous adventure ahead. Who knew how far Rattar had gotten himself involved in the war? Aralim glanced at Grendar, smirked, and asked, “So…how do we track down a master magician?”