Sometimes, the incense they burned in Rema was so strong for Aralim he felt tears in his eyes. In Trell, and across his Path-following homeland, the lanterns burned by the pious were often accompanied by opal tree leaves or bark. The candle tongue would softly eat their edges to produce a smooth aroma, not the harsh almond, lavender, or myrrh that was commonplace in the homes of Numa’nakres. He hadn’t seen rainbow wood like that since a month before his landing in Lantern Town.
He woke up with an irritated nose, but didn’t see any point in complaining. He could become accustomed. He did some stretches and pulled his long brown robe over his torso. The moth-eaten, dirt-clad garb he had worn into Rema had long since been hung in a wardrobe to wait for his next venture on the roads. The clean, new one was softer and a little lighter in colour.
“You coming?” Miresh asked. She stood in the doorway with a soft green skirt and a white tunic. Her tanned skin was a lot darker than either, and her hair braided behind her head, a little longer than he’d seen it yet. She leaned on her lantern staff, flickering a dim orange light.
Aralim grabbed his own staff. “Of course,” he said. “Let’s go.”
They went for a long walk, as always, through the streets of the city. The air smelled more of sweat, bloody meat, and faintly of fresh, morning dew and Aralim could clear his head. They saw a thief running from the guards, a commotion amongst the monotonous shambling of the pedestrians. Yesterday, Miresh had brought Aralim more news—Rattar asked for the Walker to join them the next day. Aralim suspected a reason why.
On the third day of each week, the Emperor sanctioned his private time—no worshippers, no courts. Peace for him and for his councillors. Or so Aralim thought.
As they walked through the open gate of the Iron Palace and past the looming Karmawn, they spotted a strange sight inside. Emperor Tag’na stood in a ring, shirtless, brandishing a wooden sword blade. Three guards in leather armour stepped forward, but Tag’na stepped around each attack as though he was surrounded by nothing but air. Aralim heard two claps of wood on hide, and managed to glimpse the third strike—all three warriors were knocked out of the ring. The Eternal Emperor laughed, his mouth hanging open in a wide grin. A different three tried again, but his Ascendance shifted his sword between theirs until his attackers were tangled together. He reduced them to the dirt with a sweeping kick, save one who received the butt of his sword hilt and bloody nose.
“Aralim?” Miresh asked.
The Walker blinked and looked at her. His young friend tugged his hand with a smile. Clearly this was not an unusual thing for the Emperor to do in his spare time. As they started to walk away, Aralim asked about it. “Does he do that often?”
“For a few hours,” Miresh said, with a smile. “No one sees him in the afternoon, he keeps to himself inside the Palace.”
Aralim nodded. It made sense—the morning breeze was much nicer than the humid steam of the afternoon. While the First Court had a lot of downtime even on their busiest days, the Emperor had probably earned his private time after more than two and half centuries of rule.
Rattar met the two of them in the glade near his meditation yard. He walked toward them when he saw them and didn’t give Miresh any instructions before saying, “Aralim, it happened last night. Yakalaka knifed a merchant like she told you she would, a man named Brallo Ma’kreo. Of course, Brallo is alive; he’s gone into hiding along with his most trusted guards. He’s probably trying to figure out how he survived.”
“And Yakalaka?” Aralim asked.
“She’s going about her business as usual. If she knows Brallo is still alive, she hasn’t let it affect her decisions,” Rattar said.
Miresh piped up. “So what are we going to do about her? We know she murdered someone, or tried to, right?”
Rattar nodded. He tucked his hands into the open sides of his grey robe as he thought about it. A moment later, he turned back to them and spoke up. “I want to leave Yakalaka alone. See what she does next.” He lifted his hand. “I know this will be dangerous for you two, so I will see to your safety.”
“And the merchant?” Aralim asked. He was more concerned about the plots than his safety from Yakalaka. Besides, his position on the Path would determine his safety, not guards. That was how it had always been.
“I’ll question him,” Rattar said. “Either here or in one of the Emperor’s safe holdings. He must know more than we do about Yakalaka, and he’s going to be easy to… learn from than she.” He nodded to himself and smiled to them.
Aralim nodded. “I look forward to learning the same.”
“Your help, and the continued risk you tolerate in this affair, is greatly appreciated,” Rattar said. “By myself and the Emperor. Now, I will go ask his Ascendance what we can offer to up the security on your estate. If it’s not too—I mean, if he’s available. Miresh, continue your practice.”
Miresh sighed and sat down on the flattened grass nearby, while Rattar patted Aralim on the shoulder with a wrinkled hand and brushed past him toward the Palace. Once again, Aralim found himself watching Miresh make a flower grow. She’d been spending the last few weeks reviewing her abilities, growing stronger instead of learning new things. Though it didn’t blossom before his eyes, he was amazed to see the growth she made over the next hour.
At last, Rattar’s quiet whistling could be heard coming along the trail through the grove of thick trees and foliage. Aralim woke up from his daze and stood up as Miresh did so as well.
A goliath walked behind Rattar. Chainmail dangled over a long orange cloak, a black hood covered the huge man’s forehead. At his shoulder dangled the scabbard of an enormous great sword, while daggers were visible within the brown robe, strapped to his chest. A sharp, trimmed beard was visible protruding from the cowl, but nothing else than a stoically set jaw was visible of the man’s face.
“Is that… Karmawn?” asked Miresh.
Rattar smiled, his creased face lifting with humour. “He has been called that. But you will call him Narr. There are in fact three individuals who serve as the Emperor’s Blade, and he is one of them.”
Narr stood quietly behind the magician as the explanation was delivered.
“He’ll be your new guard at the mansion,” Rattar said. He smiled. “Should be more than enough to handle Yakalaka and her spies.”
Narr was quiet the whole walk home. Miresh stayed behind to train, so it was only Aralim with his flickering blue lantern staff and Narr with his silent atmosphere of ominous strength that navigated the bustling highways of Rema back to West Corid Ave. When they reached the front door, Ko’nagar stared at the massive addition to the mansion’s inhabitants.
The Emperor’s Blade calmly removed his hood and looked around the foyer. He had a square head, with short brown hair and dark skin. His beard looked as solid and angular as his cheekbones, and his wide, clear green eyes analyzed the lavish anteroom as though it were an opponent. The normal estate guards stiffened as he looked them over too.
Aralim set his lantern staff against the wall as he unlaced his sandals. “I suppose you don’t speak either?” he asked.
Narr regarded him with a blank gaze, pursed his lips, and bowed his head. He turned back to the foyer and walked ahead with his arms at his sides. Hayan stumbled out of the way as the warrior paced into their living room to familiarize himself with it too. The performer looked at Aralim with a raised eyebrow, but the Walker just smiled.