Worlen’s sturdy fishing vessel wasn’t large, but at least it was sturdy. With Grendar, his three subordinate guards, Devran, Nilless, Aralim, and the Aura, the fisherman never quite got his watercraft to a speedy skim over the gentle waters of the Shrinking Sea, even when the wind coming off the Amirella Mountains howled through the junk sails. They rode low in the water.
Despite the close quarters of their stay on Worlen’s sloop, Aralim greatly enjoyed the brief voyage. After two full moons with sand in every pocket and air that sucked the moisture out of his skin, the fifteen days at sea refreshed him and filled him with energy.
Devran asked him some questions over the first few days out of Tal’lashar about his time there. He took notes for his chronicle.
On the other hand, Nill was curiously quiet. She spent the days contemplating her departure from her home. Her questions for the first few days mostly ranged from introductions with the guards to curiosity of their route back to Rema. They would return the same way they had come—from Crossroads to the Eye of Maga, down the River Toringa, and through the ports of the Elder Coast to the Empire of Numa’nakres.
Ten days into their voyage, the arm of land they followed was met by another, and they sailed betwixt the shoulders. The “southern cove,” according to Worlen, meant their voyage was nearly done. Still, it was three days before the cove narrowed again, rocky on one side and sloped on the other.
On the third day after that, Worlen promised them today was the day.
Nilless began to ask a few more questions of Aralim after their lunch—a large grey slider, compliments of their master fisher. It was an oily saltwater fish, but with some of their hard corn loaf from Tal, it made for a fine meal. As they finished up, Nill asked, “Was your walk to Tal’lashar your first time on the Crimson Highway?”
Aralim smiled. “Yes, and it was an interesting experience. Do the Asha use the highway often?”
“We do, but I know from my time abroad—when I was in my twenties,” Nill said, pausing to sip from a freshwater canteen, “that our stretch of road is the least patrolled. Did you have issues, then?”
“We were attacked once, and welcomed into a camp once. It was a balanced adventure, I suppose,” Aralim said, smiling. He started to lean back, but forgot his lantern staff was leaning against the side of the boat.
“You were attacked?” Nill questioned, dropping the canteen. “What happened?”
“A Highwayman decided he was very attached to my staff. I wouldn’t give it to him.” Aralim smirked and reached back to pat the metal roof of his lantern.
Nill shook her head. “Did anyone get hurt?”
“Just me, I think,” Aralim replied. He glanced at Grendar to confirm. Aralim still had a small scar in his thigh from that throwing knife. What was the bandit’s name? he wondered. Murlo? Mulo?
Grendar looked back from his survey of the coast and nodded. “And a few Highwaymen.”
“Grendar and his men are more than competent.” At that, Aralim got a glance from Lerela, but he nodded to her and she smiled. He continued, “It was mostly my fault anyways, but I knew I could count on them.”
Nill pursed her lips and looked down sadly. “I’ve heard many stories of theft on the Highway,” she said, and looked back at Aralim, “but I’m still sorry you were in that position.”
“The Path is as it is. I just walk it. It’s unlikely to happen again I think,” Aralim said, shrugging. “Did you not encounter any danger in your time abroad?”
“I was also robbed on the Highway once,” she confessed. “Just a few coins for a ‘toll’ that didn’t actually exist. It could have been a lot worse. I don’t care too much about my worldly possessions, but I do care about my safety.” She took a breath. “And once I was staying in a town that was attacked by bandits. I fled during the night and camped in the wilderness… That was an interesting evening.”
Aralim blinked. He remembered columns of blazing flames… his home… his—he shook his head to clear it of the memories. “I wonder how many Quebs have lived such exciting lives.”
“Iteyūn ach efer ageh,” Worlen said suddenly.
There it is, Aralim translated mentally. He was finally getting the hang of their language now that they had left the city. The phrase translated more accurately to “There is it,” a preposterous way of speaking, thought Aralim. He absently looked where the fisherman was pointing.
Ahead of their ship was a cliff; it was not a tall nor rocky one, but a sheer slope of dirt and tufts of grass. It was joined on either side by the two coasts they had been following. They had reached the end of the cove and the southern point of the Shrinking Sea.
It took them over half-an-hour to find a proper landing point and unpack all their gear. Grendar paid Worlen generously and they all thanked him for his time and work. He kept waving to them until he was probably a mile out again, while the guards managed their armour into hiking packs and those barefoot laced up their sandals. Then the hike began. They still had a few hours of daylight left, after all, and Crossroads was only several days away.
“What if they had asked for gold, and not your staff?” Nill asked, as they were descending a gradual grassy hill. “The Highwaymen, that is. What if they had only demanded coin?”
Aralim shrugged. “I likely would have reacted similarly. It’s a slippery slope giving in to the demands of others, but safety might have been worth buying.” He placed his lantern staff ahead of him as he walked, picking each footstep with instinct and dexterity.
“Interesting,” she said. “Is that a common outlook on the Path? The importance of one’s property?”
“It has very little to do with property. If you show someone they can take from you they will continue doing so. First coin, then clothes, then maybe they’d demand we hand over you.” Aralim grimaced.
“I’m not anyone’s property,” Nill replied, with a laugh. “But I see your reasoning. It’s a very… strategic way to think. Devran, is your religion similar or different?”
Aralim looked over his shoulder to see the writer smile. “If my security were threatened, I would give the robe from my back,” he replied. “I can always get another, but I only get one life with which to do something in this world.”
“How does that fit with your beliefs about the Emperor God?” Nill asked, while Aralim considered the ramifications that Devran did not have his back during that encounter with Mulo or whatever his name was.
Devran considered it for a moment and they stepped over a stream and began to climb the next hill. At last he responded, “I believe the Great Smith is alive today in order to work wonders in this world. Those of us who serve him are as much his hands and feet as are his Aura. I may not see my part to play, but I must prioritize playing it nonetheless.”
Aralim considered the kapok tree, towering over the rainforest. He had seen it first on his voyage to Rema at the very beginning of all this. It shaded the trees around it, absorbing vines and saplings and moss into itself. Some people were satisfied to be those subservient growths, always working for the good of the greater power.
“What about you, Nill?” Devran inquired, after a moment.
“I honestly cannot say,” she replied. “I don’t know if I could until that very moment. I believe both your points of view might be true, so it would depend on the circumstances—internally and externally.”
“Then what is your opinion on the corpse army’s ransom? It’s inherently similar,” Aralim pointed out. Devran let out his breath, so the Walker looked back at him. The man pulled out his notebook and made a mark with some charcoal. Strange.
Nill smiled at Aralim as she thought about it. “Time will tell, I suppose. The First Queb was able to get everyone back to work as quickly as possible and no one was harmed. If work or lives are lost later, as a result, it was the wrong decision. But if the army of the dead does not return… it was the right one. Who knows what breakthroughs the workers may have had yesterday, which would have been prevented by an alternate decision?”
“Why wouldn’t they return?” Aralim asked, confused.
“How many resources does a city of fifty need?” posed Nill. “Why did this happen now and not ten years ago? It could be because of the Sentry of Dathadar, but it also may be they don’t need vast amounts of materials.” She shrugged. “There’s also a middle ground that neither of you have considered yet: If a man corners you and asks for your coin purse, he may leave when you give it to him. But if he asks for your robe also, you could very well choose to stand and fight then. The First Queb has the same option.”
They kept going as they considered the conundrum. The guards and the Aura listened quietly.
“All very true,” Aralim said and then paused. After a moment, he continued, “Though I think that it’s partially what’s inside that matters. When you yield to demands of that nature, you give a person a piece of your own strength. You’ve enabled them to continue on taking coin purses, and made it that much easier for you to agree to hand over your coin purse next time…. I’m not saying I’m right. I’m just saying that habits are sometimes troublesome.”
Devran chuckled. “Well that Highwayman certainly won’t be stealing any more staves.”
Everyone chuckled. The Aura had ruthlessly killed Mulo in mere seconds after that fight had broken out. Aralim looked over at the quiet observer—it had been a joke because of him, of course. The Aura looked quietly ahead, and said nothing.