It had taken nearly three weeks from requesting an appointment at the First Tower to attain such a meeting. When the day finally came, Aralim’s party consisted of the ever-present Aura, Dullah by invitation, and Nilless by request. Of course, Grendar insisted on accompanying as Aralim’s guard.
The Walker of the Path had seen the tower may times from afar, and a few times from up close. It was round, at the base, and spanned at least ten storeys tall. Aralim was not sure if he had ever seen a structure this tall before; the tallest of the Forty-Seven dwarfed even the height of the Iron Palace, though it had a far narrower floorplan. There were few balconies in the structure, but many windows.
A dozen guards were on duty at the front of the First Tower, while others patrolled its circumference. Aralim’s party was accosted by a captain and instructed to turn in their weapons for admission. They permitted Aralim to keep his lantern staff—Aralim did not share that he had explosive powder to convert his staff into a weapon if the need ever arose.
Some servants showed Aralim to a wide, circular meeting room with a handful of small tables and a single, large one. To Aralim’s surprise, they were not meeting with a single leader, but two Quebs, First Tower Queb Garashi and Queb Onnas, and the official Ambassador of Tal’lashar, Whiteleaf. Garashi, a sixty-year-old woman remained seated throughout their meeting, like Queb Rionar had, but the others rose politely when Aralim and his group entered. After introductions were done, Onnas intoned, “I apologize that our ways have not crossed until now.”
“Indeed,” said Garashi. “We have been far too busy these last few weeks, deciding what to do with the Fourth Tower.”
Aralim nodded, as his friends and he were situated in chairs nearby. He leaned his staff against the table, its blue light casting a weak glow into the sunny room. “It’s understandable. I’m sorry I arrived at such a difficult time, but it’s hard to schedule a visit from so far away.”
Ambassador Whiteleaf smiled. “I’m familiar with the issue. Tal’lashar is far from practically every major city in the South.”
“It sounds like you’ve had your share of adventures,” said Aralim, examining the unusually large man. He was nearly the size of Narr, the Blade of the Emperor, and wore a small black moustache above his cleanly shaven chin.
“White Leaf has travelled far indeed,” Onnas said. “As far south as Starath, east to the city of Ellakar, now reduced to only rubble. Down the mighty Toringa to Varravar.”
Aralim had only been to Varravar, though he remembered the sailors on the coupled barge pointing across the Orrish at a smoky island and saying it was Starath. That couple barge had scarcely stopped the entire time, between Bellasa and Numa’nakres. “Ah, I travelled passed those places on my journey North to Rema. I’d be very interested in how you feel their cultures contrast with your own—should you have the time.”
Whiteleaf bowed his head to Aralim. “Perhaps after the auction, in a few weeks.”
“Auction?” piped up Nilless.
Queb Garashi nodded. “The Fourth Tower will be sold to the highest bidder. It was a controversial decision, to be sure.”
Aralim blinked. It would be ironic to purchase it myself, he thought. He didn’t have enough coinage on the journey for such a transaction, he assumed, but the Eternal Emperor could certainly afford it. He smiled at the thought, but then moved on. “Out of curiosity, how do you decide such difficult decisions in this land? Is there a meeting of Quebs?”
“Decisions are made slowly here,” Onnas explained. “Ultimately, every decision that is out of a Queb’s jurisdiction is made by the First Queb.”
Garashi bows her head and adds, “But, rank is attributed to knowledge—to build the greatest tower; and to wealth—which is business acumen, essentially. Both require communication and a great deal of compromise.”
Aralim nodded to Garashi, but looked at Onnas. “Are they made slowly, because of information moving through jurisdictions? Or because the Asha are careful to make the right decisions?”
“The latter,” White Leaf responded. “The number of times I have stood in the halls of a foreign government and marvelled at how swiftly decisions were made.”
“I can empathize. Things often change in Rema before I can even grow used to them,” Aralim commented. He looked at Dullah, who grinned and muttered beneath her breath. She was the only one in the room with more experience than Aralim of the Three Courts.
“Really?” asked Garashi. “I imagined the Eternal Emperor in a more methodical light.”
Aralim scoffed amiably. “He is, but with so much time to think, he must always have something on his mind.”
“That’s a valid point,” said the First Queb with a nod. She sipped a glass of water. “Has Queb Rionar and his family provided you with satisfactory accommodations? I would offer my own lodging to a man of foreign import, but the Tenth Tower managed to receive you before I knew you were here.”
Aralim blinked and looked to his left. “I’ll leave that to Dullah and Grendar. I’ve never been one to worry about accommodation.” He looked to Nill, and added, “Although Nill has been more than kind, offering her time as a translator for me.”
“The heat is persistent everywhere, I assume,” Dullah said. “But aside from that, I see no reason to move.”
Whiteleaf chuckled and looked at his colleagues. “The Asha are accustomed to it. My only advise would be to spend every afternoon in a chill house,” he said to Dullah. “Or sleep, and enjoy the cool weather at night.”
The middle-aged man, Onnas, leaned forward with a sly smile. “Did you know, that out in the Expanse, ice appears on the ground?”
Aralim had never heard of ice in the desert before. Snow came each year to his village near Trell, though he had not seen it in nearly twenty years. “In the desert? The only thing more surprising would be at sea. I take it the Asha have researched why this happens?”
Dullah and Grendar looked confused, on the other hand, while the Aura sat next to them blankly. Dullah interjected: “What is ice? I’ve heard of it on mountains, but none grows in the Iron Mountains.”
“It’s a state of water,” Garashi explained. “When it gets too ilahey… uh, chilled, it becomes hard and brittle.”
“Sometimes it falls from the sky,” Aralim told Dullah. “It’s prettier than it sounds.”
Dullah was astounded. “I want to see it. How far into the desert must you go?”
“Further north, or across the Shrinking Sea,” Garashi said. “We think the salt in the water saturates the land and decreases the likelihood of this. You probably missed it, but during the second month of each year, it sometimes snows in the Amirella Mountains. Up on the peaks.”
“Isn’t it incredible to wonder how many things might be in this world that we cannot conceive of, here and now?” Nill asked, smiling at Dullah. Aralim remotely wondered if she was intentionally starting a fight.
Dullah allowed the question a nod. “But I won’t truly believe it until I go. A personal rule of mine, please forgive me.”
Nill shrugged wistfully. “My father would like you.”
“Many in Tal’lashar would,” Onnas pointed out, with a sparkle in his eye.
Aralim blinked. “Then many won’t like me.”
“Some will,” pointed out Nill, smiling at him.
Garashi grinned at the exchange. She leaned back in her chair for a moment until the humour subsided. “Ambassador, if you need assistance planning such a venture—or any others,” she said, “please do not hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you,” Aralim said, bowing his head.
“Are there any matters of state that the Eternal Emperor wishes to discuss?” Garashi asked. “It’s a long distance for any sort of trade treaty, but if he would like to make a public allegiance, we could discuss terms.”
Aralim nodded, though he had never had much skill at proper diplomacy. “It’s true. There are few goods valuable enough to transport such long distances, but I’m certain a public allegiance could be made on relatively simple terms.”
“It would be a very loose treaty,” she said. “I’m not comfortable saying anything such as ‘your enemies are my enemies’, but we can safely agree that the people of our city and the people of your land are friends, interested in the sharing of philosophies and academics, as well as any trades the merchants deem reasonable across such a distance.”
“Of course. After all, what good are philosophies if they aren’t shared and compared?” Aralim asked, smiling. Of course, he had only lived in Numa’nakres for a year; how could he be making decisions for an entire people?
Onnas was smiling at his comment though, and asked, “Is such an outlook typical for your fellow citizens in Numa’nakres or do you simply share our typical Tal’lashar outlook?”
“As a Walker of the Path, I’m generally more interested in philosophy,” he explained. He finally took a drink of the water they had poured for him. “But I feel like the citizens of Numa are often more curious than they themselves realize.”
Dullah nodded. “I would agree. I’m sometimes referred to as the Skeptic, but no one has shunned me or given me any harassment besides the moniker.”
The leaders smiled, while Aralim muttered beneath his breath, “…and then there’s Devran putting up conversion posters.”
“Conversion?” asked Whiteleaf.
Aralim bowed his head. “I’m mocking one of my companions a little. Devran insisted on putting up posters about his beliefs. I told him I wouldn’t stop him as long as they were informative, but not aggressive. He’s quite devout…. I can have him take them down of course.”
“I don’t think anyone would have an issue with that,” Garashi said. “Would there be issue should one of our citizens bring their beliefs to Rema?”
“I know the Emperor would see no problem in it, but Dullah knows the people better.”
Dullah thought about it for a moment. “There are some individuals who are fervent in their regard for the Emperor. There would certainly be tensions with some, even at informative endeavours such as Devran is attempting, but the Emperor would strictly prohibit and prosecute if anything became violent.”
“Fervent?” asked Onnas. “The Eternal Emperor is truly worshipped as a god?”
“Many believe he is the Great Smith returned in physical form, and that all of the wealth of Numa’nakres is due to his favour.” Aralim tapped the tabletop and added, “I’ve never bothered to ask, personally.”
Garashi laughed, her elderly voice cracking. “You’re quite, pragmatic, Ambassador. What difference would it make to your relationship whether he was a pretender, an un-aging man, or a reborn god?”
Aralim frowned. “The case of a pretender would bother me deeply, and I can attest against it. I have seen some things that identify the Emperor as no normal man. Other than that, he has the will power to carry Numa on his shoulders, and that is reason enough for me to follow him.”
A few hummed respect for Aralim’s wisdom in the matter, while Onnas asked, “What have you seen?”
“If my experiences with the Asha this far are any guide, you won’t believe it, but,” Aralim said, “Not so long ago, our Keeper of Information turned against our Courts. The Emperor decided to deal with him personally, and approached unarmed despite multiple armed opponents. Where my limbs would have been slashed from my body, he responded as if he felt a gentle breeze. Refreshed, and physically unharmed by the steel.”
“So he is a master warrior? Or immune to injury?” asked Garashi.
Aralim shrugged. “A combination of the two from what I’ve seen. It’s not something I understand well enough to try to explain further.”
“Nor I, to gain such knowledge,” admitted Garashi. “This has been enlightening, needless to say, and it is very clear why a man on your pilgrimage would find himself drawn to Numa’nakres.”
Whiteleaf cleared his throat. “I’m eager for a chance to speak with you, Aralim. I’m now considering a potential Ambassadorial journey of my own. The auction of the Fourth Tower will be held on the first of the 5th Moon, but everyone has a lot of work to do. Why don’t we meet after that.”
“It does my heart good to hear such kindnesses. I look forward to speaking again when things have calmed down more,” Aralim said, tipping his head.
Garashi slowly stood up. “In the meantime, hopefully the impact of such things is minimal on your stay here.”
Onnas and the First Queb withdrew with their servants, while Whiteleaf made some notes in a book. The servants started to collect the cups, while Aralim picked up his lantern staff and followed his friends down the stairs. The Emperor’s Aura moved quietly behind him.
Nill looked back at Aralim as they went down the steps, hair bobbing, and asked, “I’ve never heard that story about the Emperor before. Do you have more like it?”
Aralim shook his head. “Not from personal experience, no. I only lived in Numa’nakres for a year. I should hope such experiences aren’t so common.”
The energetic woman nodded. “Still, I would like to know what they say of him, and what you can share. Perhaps a trade? I will give stories of King Prathar or any others you would like in return.”
“Well, hearing the stories of Prathar from you would be easier than translating the archaic texts. Perhaps you, Devran, and I should sit down for a cup of tea?”
Nill smiled. “Anytime,” she said.