Aralim listened to the tap of his lantern staff on the old city cobblestones as he and Hayan walked through the old part of town, just north-east of the Ake’ma River. These neighbourhoods predated the Emperor’s rise to power, back when Rema was a tiny river town connected to a long-vanished sandstone quarry. He was still coming to terms with the thought of leaving Rema on the Emperor’s new bidding. On the one hand, he longed to wander once more; on the other, Miresh was building her life here and he wanted to maintain that friendship, both for the care he felt for her and for her role in his progress along the Path.
“I think I’m going to audition for another play,” Hayan said, interrupting the Walker’s stream of thought.
“Will she be in it?” Aralim asked. Hayan had just told him a few minutes earlier about a woman, Arith, he had been seeing, an actress in the Ghanam and Paraclar performance he’d performed in. Aralim had not realized, but the performances had only just concluded, after a long and successful run.
Hayan blinked. “I’m not certain,” he said. “I more meant that I enjoyed the stage performance. Used to do mainly just dancing and acrobatics, but I quite enjoyed being the Stable Master, and I’d like to try something similar.”
“Well, between Arith and the success of your play,” Aralim said, smiling to his friend. “Congratulations on all your progress.”
“Thank you,” Hayan said, mimicking a stage-man’s bow.
Aralim chuckled, but then grew more serious. They had turned back onto Corid Avenue, heading back home. It was late in the afternoon, and the streets were growing less crowded. “I want you to know, Hayan, that you’re one of the people I trust the most in Rema.”
The performer blinked and bowed his head. “That’s quite the compliment. You’re too kind.”
“I might soon be leaving for a while.” Aralim looked at his Hayan’s clean-shaven face as they walked, and noticed the surprise there. He continued, “In that case, I’ll be counting on you to watch out for Miresh. Assuming she doesn’t follow me.”
Hayan’s smile faded, as he realized the gravity of Aralim’s words. “Of course,” he said, earnestly. “I’m none more capable than Narr and all the other guards, but I’ll be here if she needs me for anything. If either of you do.”
“Thank you,” Aralim said. They continued walking for a few steps in silence, before Hayan asked for more specifics about Aralim’s potential venture. Aralim was open and honest about it, of course. He had meant what he said—Hayan had only ever acted for the betterment of those around him. Hayan had only accompanied them to Rema because he thought they were good people.
When they arrived home, Aralim was surprised to see that Miresh’s small sandals were already set next to the door, drying from the noon showers. He nodded politely to Narr, while he unlaced his sandals. The burly guard stood quietly across the foyer from him.
Aralim found Miresh eating a snack of nuts in the estate’s sizeable dining hall and sank into a seat across from her. “How was your day? Any visions?”
“No,” Miresh said, clearing her throat of the dryness from her food. “But Rattar is teaching me a new trick. How to strengthen the fiber and hardness of wood. I’m thinking of one day making my lantern staff unbreakable.”
He smiled in unison with her. Her staff was also her Crux, and thus, a potential weakness. Her forward thinking and application of the tricks she learned was impressive. “Sounds useful. More applicable than making flowers grow, at least.”
Miresh took a deep breath. “The Emperor finally came to speak with me, like you said he would. I expected it to be a change of some kind, after all we’ve talked about over the last month, but this is bigger than I expected.”
“Yes, it is quite unexpected,” Aralim said, folding his arms on the table in front of him. “I assume he asked you to stay in Rema?”
“He did. And he was right, this place is where I’m walking the Path the best,” she said. Her small braid bobbed against the back of her head as she nodded. “But I understand that that may not true for you too. If you were leaving here on different terms, I would go with you, no matter what. But he said he wanted you back regularly, which means maybe some times I can go with you and sometimes I stay.”
“And once you learn to Journey, you might even be able to visit, without interrupting your studies,” Aralim added, smiling. He was glad that she understood why he was considering this.
She laughed. “Practice on my own will get easier with time. I asked Rattar about it, since a lot of my practice is rather meditative and solitary.”
“I’m happy you’re on board with this,” Aralim said, grinning. The twelve-year-old girl nodded and scratched a walnut out of its shell. He took a deep breath—the next step of this process was a little more daunting to him. “Although, if I’m bound to leave you alone, there’s a story I’d like to tell you. Perhaps we walk down to the river tonight?”
“Of course,” Miresh replied. “But you won’t have to leave the city right away. The Emperor said there was a few things to sort out first, and that’ll be hard to do during the first few weeks of the new Moon, because the festivals will be starting in preparation for the new year celebrations.”
“Ah yes,” Aralim said, exhaling. He had forgotten about that. Even his homeland celebrated a similar new year to Radregar, the Great Isle, and the Elder Coast. But in Numa’nakres, the years were marked by the birthdate of the Eternal Emperor himself. His day was approaching, after about twenty days of celebration. The people of Rema took any excuse to party, observing the turn of the Years since the Orrish as well. “Let’s go for a walk after dinner, nonetheless.”
Miresh nodded and ate another nut.
A few hours later, Aralim went for another walk. Though the shadows were setting, Aralim and Miresh walked in a turquoise glow, the combination of their lit lanterns. Aralim listened to the clack of his staff, but for a short spell, there were two repeating taps on the old town cobbles. He smiled at the bittersweet sensation, and enjoyed the relative silence for a few steps more.
When they neared the water’s edge, he looked around. They were alone. This was further south than the popular stretch of the river; they were nowhere near the moored yachts of the wealthy lords and ladies. Nowhere near Ovoe the Keeper’s secret meeting place.
Aralim finally broke the silence. “So, if you’re going to be alone, you should know about some things that I haven’t been telling you. But no one can know I’ve told you. Not even Narr.”
Miresh stopped walking and leaned on her staff. “I thought the Emperor’s new mission for you was the only secret you were keeping,” she said, smiling.
“His last mission was for me to destroy him,” Aralim told her. “He asked me to join Ovoe and others in a conspiracy to overthrow him. It didn’t go well for me.”
“I didn’t know he asked you that, but I do know that he struggles to continue living sometimes,” Miresh said. She leaned on one of the stone posts that lined the riverbank. “He said ‘I crave distraction, because to face the monotony of time seems like too much’. But then he told me this wasn’t my struggle to bear, and he felt ashamed of even saying that much too me. I don’t know what monotony means, but I put it together.”
Aralim blinked, concerned by the direction of that conversation.
Miresh continued, looking thoughtful. “I tried to be kind and friendly to him, but it’s been over the last few months of talking to you that he seems to be doing better. So it can’t have gone that badly for you.”
“Well, Ovoe asked me to kill the woman the Emperor loves. I waited too long trying to find a way to save her, which gave Ovoe the chance to do it himself. He almost killed me as well. So…” he mumbled, “Pretty badly…”
“Oh,” she whispered, sadly. “So… the woman the Emperor loved actually died?” She rose off of the mooring post, suddenly concerned for Tag’na’s wellbeing. “How long ago did this happen?”
“Nearly two months ago. He took it oddly well. It’s likely the third time he’s lost the one he loves, after all,” Aralim pointed out, quietly. Miresh calmed down, but Aralim was standing too, so they continued walking slowly along the riverside. There were no boats out there now; on a normal day, one could nearly walk from bank to bank of the wide river, across all the rafts, longboats, and occasional larger river ships that inhabited the Ake’ma.
“I was worried something might happen,” she whispered, quietly. Sadly.
Aralim nodded. “It still could. The conflicts continue in the court: Ovoe and his group against the Emperor, the Emperor’s struggle with immortality. I worry about leaving you hear with it all.” He tapped his lantern staff against a lump of dirt beside the stone trail, and the blue glow around him flickered.
“The Emperor is further on the Path than you or I,” Miresh told him. “He’s not affected by those around him, just like the sky or sea. His only real threat is himself, not Ovoe and the others. If they ever dig too deep, he’ll just tremble like the world does and bury them under his power. He needs proper focus, just like any magician. Looking out of his land will give him that, with you as his eyes and ears. But also, just our friendship, and the friendship of those close to him.”
“Spoken truly. Just make sure you don’t get caught in the shakes.” A bat flapped through the air above them, but neither of them started. Walks like this were peaceful and calm, after years spent living under the stars.
“I’ll be even safer once I learn how to Journey.” Miresh turned toward him and poked his arm with a smile. “But thank you for telling me all this. Is there anything else I should know?”
“Just that the Path will guide you well… and that I’m going to pass you,” Aralim replied, winking.
They chuckled in unison, and continued their walk. Aralim knew that in the next few weeks, he’d be handling a lot of changes and learning a lot about his new job—Ambassador of Numa’nakres. Or was it Ambassador of Rema? Or of the Eternal Emperor himself, more specifically? He was not certain. Would he be under Foreign Minister Muria’s authority, or directly under Tag’na’s purview?
And, as he let his mind wander with Miresh, he asked himself another question—would General Ro ever come to him for tea? The military man had all but agreed to it, and Aralim was growing more bothered by the absence of any word.