For another two weeks, Aralim and his friends continued to live in the besieged city of Tal’lashar. Aralim spent some of his time speaking with the poor people of Tal’lashar, with the help of Nilless. He was surprised to learn that there were no homeless in the city. If anyone could not afford a house, they were given shelter and food from the Queb of their choice. Nill informed Aralim that all forty-seven offered this privilege.
When he was not reading in the library or exploring the poorer nooks and crannies of the dusty city streets with Nill, Aralim would speak with Devran or Dullah. Some days their group would share a meal with Queb Rionar, his daughters (he had three more than Aralim had previously met), and a member of the wealthy upper class per the Queb’s invitation. The blind lord would speak at length about matters financial and rather dull to Aralim, but Dullah always listened with interest. Devran always made mention of the Great Smith or the Immortal Emperor to whichever victim the Queb had invited for his fanciful meal.
As for their situation with the host from Yarik, a decision had not yet become public knowledge; or at least it was not the talk of the common folk with whom Aralim socialized. No attempts of aggression had been made by the dead men and women, but the stench of them had begun to make many border guards nauseous. The fresher of their ranks left a blight of red and black rot upon the pale sand plain.
One day, Dullah asked Aralim to accompany her to the master cartographer who was designing her extended map of the “Known World.” Despite Aralim’s provisions back in Rema, he had yet to see a version that included his homeland or any mention of the continent south of the Stormy Sea. But he would certainly enjoy seeing a collection of fine quality maps, and went along without question.
Soon after leaving Queb Rionar’s residential district, they passed the supply house of another tower. The building looked gutted, though not by fire. Hefty wooden boxes were stacked in front while stalwart workmen piled an open wagon with them. Dullah, striding alongside Aralim in a dark blue armless tunic and a long white-washed flaxen skirt. Her jewel brown skin contrasted the taupe complexion of each person they passed, getting her glances of intrigue from the labourers. “What do you suppose they need all this for?” she asked.
Aralim frowned. “The corpse-army made a demand of building supplies. I guess Tal’lashar has decided to pay their fee.”
“I mean,” Dullah said, raising her hand against a gust of wind, “What do you think Yarik needs it for?”
“That’s even more concerning to me,” Aralim replied. His unlit lantern looked white instead of blue as the translucent glass cut a way through the wind for him. “Supposedly the city is well built, but no one builds castles just to have them.”
Dullah smirked. “I’m pretty certain that’s exactly what the Iron Palace is.”
“The Iron Palace has an audience and people to appreciate it,” Aralim pointed out. “Yarik has walking corpses.”
“That’s a fair distinction.” Dullah swished the hips of her skirt with her hands. “As much as we have learned about Tal’lashar, I’m certain we have so much to learn about the lands around it. The Asha say there are kingdoms north of the Expanse, though most who set out that way reach of the villages along the coast and turn back.”
“I definitely feel like there’s more to be done here, but time is time. Perhaps I’ll travel here again with Miresh one day.” Aralim peered up at the shadow of the tower they were passing. Was it taller or shorter than Queb Rionar’s?
Dullah squinted over at him. “You must really miss her.”
“I more look forward to seeing how she has grown,” Aralim said.
They continued in quiet, passing the noisy door of a chillhome. The latter weeks of the siege had not made the leisurely establishments any less popular. After a few minutes, Dullah stepped a little closer to Aralim in their walk. “Do you remember how sudden my decision to join your expedition was?”
“Of course,” Aralim said. “I was worried someone had been attacked, the way you rushed to my door.”
“Well, don’t worry. No one has been attacked,” she said, grinning—and waiting for Aralim to make a connection.
“You’re staying,” he said, and smiled back.
Dullah nodded, her smile quickly being replaced by a contemplative furrow in her brow. “Once again, it’s case of: I think I would live to regret if it if I did not stay,” she said, quietly. “In Rema, I might have been able to eventually attain a rank or two higher, but that’s all. Here I could rise all the way to the top.”
“You want to become First Queb?”
Her bare shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I don’t want the only limit to my advancement to be a religion or an immortal magician. My intellect, my prowess with business—these should determine my limits, and this is the first place I’ve been where I feel they might.”
“I’m glad to see your fire to rise has been rekindled,” Aralim commented. Then he paused his pace and turned to look at her. “Does this mean I have a contact in Tal’lashar? I’m not sure even Ovoe achieved that.”
Dullah laughed in unison with him. “I suppose so,” she said, scratching her hairline. “I have a few requests of my own, with you as my contact back home.” She paused. “Or back in Numa’nakres, that is.”
“Of course,” Aralim said, tipping his head.
“Good. First off, would you mind bringing this map home? That’s a minor reason I brought you along today,” she said, giving him a wink.
“By all means,” Aralim agreed. “It’s honestly the most tangible thing to come out of this adventure.”
“Until I build a tower of my own,” she chuckled.
Aralim grinned. “Right, of course, Queb Dullah.”
They started walking again, with Dullah swatting Aralim’s arm each time he bowed and said ‘my Queb.’ It was a short way from there to the cartographer’s, where Aralim was impressed by a gallery of some forty maps, varying from city blueprints to coastal diagrams, star charts, and the Tal’lashar version of the ‘Known World.’ Aralim asked the artist more questions than he wanted to answer, while Dullah examined the work he had done. Aralim absently considered sharing some of his own stories with the map maker, though he was more intrigued by Nill’s stories of Ebireen and the views of the every day people. Soon, Dullah and he began the walk back, with a very valuable wicker tube in their possession.