The undead came to Tal’lashar in scattered groups, slowly striding down the slopes of the mountains towards the city. The guards at the edge of town had plenty of warning after the return of Lord Rionar’s soldiers. The men had never reached Vishol Kim’alu—instead they had seen the approaching army of reanimated men and women and turned back for home. The dead followed.
Instead of attacking the Asha defenders, the force from Yarik stopped their slow march a few hundred feet from the outer limits of the city. The sun and wind tore at them each day, but they stood there silently. The terrified townsfolk didn’t even try leaving, though there had been no violence. There were only a few hundred, Aralim had guessed, while looking out from the Tenth Tower one day. Nonetheless, that surpassed the number of soldiers he had seen in Tal’lashar since his arrival.
With all the Quebs and important citizens busy trying to decide what to do about the waiting force at their proverbial gates, Aralim and his friends spent many a day in the chillhome. Even Queb Rionar’s establishment was filled daily to the point of overfilling—all the working men and women who left the city each day were sitting around instead.
One day, Aralim and his friends had to sit on extra benches that were set out on the edge of each floor. He was a little surprised that Dullah didn’t complain about her level of comfort.
Aralim’s guards were all there, and he heard Lerela ask, at one point, “Are there any undead in Numa’nakres?”
Shouldn’t she know that? Aralim wondered.
Devran leaned forward to answer, rubbing his scruffy chin. “Well, there are undead anywhere a sorcerer sees fit to raise them. It makes sense you wouldn’t be certain though, because it is one of the things Grand Mage Rattar has sought to eradicate from the Empire. The Emperor’s laws reflect this.”
“I shouldn’t name him,” said Dullah, “but I know a lord who tampers in such dark arts.”
Aralim glanced at the Aura, who stood mutely behind him, while Devran paled and drank from his millet whiskey. The Walker glanced at Dullah again. “Is that the same one who hosted that feast?”
Dullah grinned. “That would have been fitting, yes? Having Slither served to you by a half-rotted man would have fit with my theme for that evening, I suspect. No, this man does not live in Rema.”
“Sometimes I forget that you’re so well connected, Dullah of the Third Court,” Aralim said.
“It’s true. I know more people than any of you,” Dullah returned, mirthfully. She took a drink of a tea she had brewed, but no one said anything else, so she added, “And I’ve already applied my talents here. Queb Rionar and I are becoming fast friends.”
“I knew you’d get along.”
Devran chuckled at Aralim’s comment. Then he said, “I find the Asha to be quite receptive listeners. Better than you two, I might add.”
Even Grendar laughed at that, for some reason. Aralim tilted his head. “The Asha are excellent listeners. They value information for information’s sake, but I’m a little surprised. They seem quite pragmatic about religion.” He had found a number of them quite skeptical of his beliefs so far.
Devran nodded in agreement with Aralim’s comment. “I didn’t expect many to convert in a month.”
“So you do hope they’ll convert? Not just blend your beliefs into theirs?” Aralim questioned. The writer gave him a quizzical expression, and Aralim smugly explained, “They believe King Prathar spoke to a god. And most Numa doesn’t believe the Great Smith is the only god. The two systems seem compatible to me. No need to ‘convert’ exactly.” These religions needed to move along the Path a little.
“But when was the last time that Prathar’s god spoke? Because my god spoke today, doubtlessly,” Devran told him, passionately. “I do not need to forcibly change minds, you’re right, but I hope to bring some glory to the Eternal Emperor while I am here.”
Aralim could sigh at that, though Yovin, one of their guards, was nodding. Aralim looked down at the foamy, sweet tea in his cup to stifle his reaction a little. He took a sip, while Dullah followed suit.
A moment later, Grendar tapped Aralim on the shoulder and bobbed his head to the side. “Could I speak to you for a moment?” he asked.
“Of course.” They found privacy hard to attain, but tucked into a corner blocked by a noisy table of young men playing the game epech, a dexterity challenge involving thrown pins. The Aura stood close to the wall, between Aralim and a cup shelf.
Grendar was dressed in a studded leather tunic, despite the heat, and even held his helmet in the crook of his left arm. Aralim hadn’t taken too much notice, but he now realized all of his guards had been even more in uniform than usual, these last few days. “I’m concerned at how long we should stay in Tal’lashar when the city is besieged in such a way,” Grendar explained.
“You make a good point,” Aralim said, “but is an exit even possible in this situation? I’ve been meaning to have a closer look myself, but from the sounds of it they have every exit covered as of current.”
“The enemy force is divided between several points with a line of sight on every exit.” Grendar indicated multiple exits with his fingers but used his other hand a fist to indicate a single location. “But if they move anything like the man we saw in the mountains, we should be able to use surprise to make a swift getaway.”
Aralim thought about it. He was more preoccupied by his pre-existing plans, nevertheless. They had left Rema six months ago, with five of those Moons spanning the adventure to Tal’lashar. He didn’t want to stay any longer than another month, so he could return to Rema in a year’s time as he had told Miresh. The thought reminded him how much he missed her.
“The Emperor asked us to return in approximately a year. So we’re scheduled to leave in the next few weeks,” Aralim told his sergeant. “But I feel as though it is poor policy to leave during an emergency…”
“I’m not the expert on those matters, but I do know from a conversation with some Asha guards that it’s been over a hundred years since this happened.” Grendar shot a cautious glance at the Aura. “We cannot discount the possibility that we are the motivation.”
Aralim frowned. “If that’s the case, they’re likely to follow us…. I suppose that would free the city at least. Perhaps you and I should meet with the Queb Garashi.”
“Thank you for considering this,” Grendar said, but he still didn’t turn back toward their bench. “Pardon these grim thoughts, but it is my very employment to consider them. How well do you trust the First Queb? If the army of undead do name us among their demands—that is, if they make demands at all—would she turn us over?”
“I have met her only one time,” Aralim confessed. “She doesn’t seem the type, but our host does…”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Grendar said. “Thank you.”
Aralim promptly excused himself from the company of his travelling friends and went in search of Nilless. It was a scalding first few steps out of the chillhome and a sweaty walk back to the tower. The heir of the Tenth Tower was speaking with Vishol Min’ri in his side-office on the tower’s first floor. Aralim tapped the door with the top of his staff and said, “Ah, sorry. Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all,” Min’ri said. “We can resume this later.”
Nill smiled and followed Aralim into the adjacent dining hall. “I can’t believe all of this is happening while you’re visiting our city. This is hardly commonplace.”
“We’re actually somewhat concerned that its happening because we’re visiting.”
“I don’t see why…” Nill said, blinking. “Because of your connections in the West? My first question would be how they even knew an Ambassador from Numa’nakres was present in Tal’lashar to begin with.” Then with a wave of her hand, she added, “It could be possible, but we can’t even determine how they moved this many to the city’s edge without being spotted sooner.”
Aralim shrugged. “Have you not considered teleportation? They are sent by mages after all.”
“It could be. Teleporting on this scale would take months by any known standards, but who’s to say how long they have been planning this.” Nill thought for a moment, leaning back against the sturdy dining tabletop. “If they did teleport here, I would say it is even less likely that your group is part of their game.”
“That will hopefully put my guards to rest,” Aralim said. “Although, we are due to depart soon regardless. So we’ll know for sure then.”
Nill frowned. “Oh, really? You were still to meet with Whiteleaf when his schedule cleared, and I have been enjoying poring over the old texts with someone as fascinated in them as yourself.” Her frown faded.
“The Emperor had requested I return within a year, and it’s a five month journey home. I am, however, contemplating staying to see this situation through. It feels like poor etiquette to leave during a crisis. Not that we’re doing much to help.”
“I would hate to see harm befall you because of this, though,” Nill said, leaning forward. Then she bobbed her head to him. “Wa’ach ekah onoheh, do what you must.”
“You’ll just have to protect us, for the good of our countries’ relations.” Aralim led the way across the dining room toward the stairs down to the study. He had a few more questions about how the government actually worked in Tal’lashar, beyond the broad scope that the First Queb had given him before. Nill was happy to tag along.