Iloli was more up tight than Vaenuth expected her to be, for at first she seemed comfortable. They spent weeks on the road, as the caravan rode east, and she became acquainted with Tagg and Banno. They shared stories of the venture into the Expanse, and, despite Hulean’s nearby ears, they told her everything that had transpired in Logren. As they sat around the campfire or cleaned their equipment, the leaders of Vaenuth’s caravans helped Iloli become one of them.
Despite this, she spent most of her time in her own tent, keeping her privacy intact. She was one of only three people in their group of fourteen that still wore a shirt during the blistering daytimes, and she glared at anyone who looked at her sideways for it. Vaenuth, riding easily with her tattoos and brands bared to the air, once went so far as to ask her, “Doesn’t the sweat bother you?” Iloli shrugged and said she didn’t mind it.
A monkey, in the jungle above, followed them for a whole day, as they approached the capital city, Rema. Vaenuth hadn’t seen a single Primal in over a year; thankfully the tribal primates stayed in the deeper swathes of jungles usually. Their food stores had started to run low, so they purchased a little more from another caravan on the road—it was a relief troop on route to the ruins of Nokire.
At last, Rema came into view, on the ninth day of the new Moon. The sprawling city had been built around the base of two Yurna Foothills. Three centuries ago, it had been nothing but a simple mining town; now two hundred thousand humans crammed around the old iron mines. The capital building cast its shadow over the street markets and shops. Every tenth block had a chapel to worship their Eternal Emperor, though the legend never left the Iron Palace. Vaenuth had heard many firsthand accounts from inside that Palace, but she had not yet visited it.
“Where does the caravan go, in Rema?” Iloli asked, as they rode down a slope in the direction of the “U” shape between the two forested mountains.
“This time,” Vaenuth said, “Most will stay outside of the city. I’ll give them rest and recoup shifts in the city, while we’re here, but someone has to stay with our wagons, and I don’t want to spend our hard earned coins on secure storage for them inside.
The forest was cut away, and the sun grew hotter as they left the shade behind. Even Vaenuth had lines of sweat rolling down her by the time that they reached the outer wall. The guards smiled as she approached, and she heard scoffed words under their breath about her bared white skin—though most of it was covered in ink—but they smartened up when Belmyre carried her up to them. It wasn’t like she was the only one shirtless, they had five females, not counting Iloli, in their caravan; she was just the only one with bright skin.
“Welcome to Rema,” said one of the men. The Emperor’s Guard wore white fur—Primal hides, likely—though many dyed patterns into them. The man in charge had no colour in his, it hung over his black torso loosely. The iron sword at his waist was barely noticeable.
One of his subordinates, with red lines in his fur mantle, asked, “You in charge?”
Vaenuth sighed. “I am,” she said. “And I’ve been here before, you fools. Vaenuth—I have an apartment on the Eighth Block of the Starlight Quarter. I’ll need admittance badges for all of my workers—fourteen in total, as well as space outside for a camp.”
The sergeant tensed, nodded sharply, and averted his eyes from her. “Of course, Chief.” It was a term of respect for any business runner in Numa’nakres. He quickly counted off fourteen of the cloth tickets from a wooden board nearby. “You know the fare?”
“Ten a piece,” Vaenuth said. “Banno.”
Banno tossed down an already counted coin pouch from the bench he’d been riding on. The lower ranking guard caught it and gave Banno a nod, then passed it to his boss. “It’s all in order,” the fellow said, and handed the badges to Tagg, who had dismounted his horse when they first arrived. “Let’s give them the nineteenth rest, away from the militia,” he said.
“If one of you would like to be shown the way to the camp,” one of the guards announced, giving a small bow with hands pressed to his torso, the formal bow.
“Tagg,” Vaenuth said, as she dismounted Belmyre. “Get everyone settled. Banno, Iloli, with me. On foot.”
Iloli dismounted and handed her reigns to Tagg. The wagons followed that guard and her warrior, as Vaenuth’s workers eased forward. Everyone was relieved to be here at last. The wagons had no issues on the heavily pressed dirt that surrounded the wall.
Banno, handed off his reins to another, and stepped easily down to the ground. Beside Vaenuth and the guards, he looked like a small giant. The smooth curves of his meaty torso and thigh-like biceps were the height at which their heads reached. He was the strongest man Vaenuth had ever met, but he had no angles to him, not like Tagg, smaller frame. He looked down at the guards, who were torn between fearing his height and eyeing Vaenuth.
“Welcome back, Chief,” the guard captain said, and strode away.
The gate of Rema, like all of its trimmings, was made of iron. They were open now, and rarely closed, but they were terrifying things, covered in massive spikes. Vaenuth led Iloli and Banno between two massive grey porcupines as they strode toward the main west-east avenue of the city. They could see the whole way to the Iron Palace without a building between, as though a true god had slashed a rut in the city, and that rut was the street.
Compared to the other northern holdings of Numa’nakres, Rema’s culture had become much more comparable to that of Trader’s Bay. Many olive skinned foreigners walked the streets—some were sons or great grandsons of immigrants, some had arrived yesterday. Vaenuth even saw a young man with white skin on a grey horse, his dark hair contrasting his features. He noticed Vaenuth, and started to nod politely, but then smirked as he did so.
“This is why I prefer Slithers,” Vaenuth said. Iloli gasped in surprise, but Banno had heard it many times before. The crowd of red, white, and yellow clothes was a sea of chaos, and the mix of mercenaries, royal guards, merchants, and beggars was overwhelming.
Iloli must have noticed the horse rider’s look. “Why don’t you cover yourself up, then?”
Banno chuckled. “Better ask the sun why it shines so brightly, little Mediator.”
“I’m no longer a mediator,” Iloli snapped.
Vaenuth turned at the waist and looked at Iloli. “Why do you think I spend my money on tattoos? This is the only way I have to show them who I am, so I’m not going to hide it with clothes when I don’t have to. Besides, its blighted scorching out. You’re losing a river of water right now.”
“I’m fine,” Iloli said. “Let’s not talk about this again.”
Vaenuth thought, suddenly, that her burn scar might be affecting her attitude. “You don’t need to be afraid of the scar… it’s—”
“I said, I’m fine,” Iloli snapped.
Vaenuth shrugged, and faced the eyes of the crowd again. She wasn’t the only white woman anymore, but she still drew the attention of the animals called humans. It was a full hour’s walk to reach the Starlight Quarter, indicated by tall signs illustrated with the shape of yellow star. Iloli had spent more time in the capital than Vaenuth had, she soon learned, but they both knew their way around.
Vaenuth purposefully chose to avoid the Third Block of the Quarter, where the dolls plied their trade. There were no slaves in the Empire of Numa’nakres, not according to the law. There were plenty of low quality work environments, however, and many people who had no other choices in life left but to sink to those depths. Vaenuth had been involved in a handful of fights with people in that industry, and Banno had persuaded her to avoid such situations a few years earlier. Thankfully, Iloli didn’t ask when they took a wrong turn and lengthened their journey—she followed faithfully.
From Vaenuth’s apartment on Eighth Block—a third-storey loft with a small balcony and two rooms—they had a perfect view of the Iron Palace, down the mountain slope from them. From anywhere in the bowl of Rema, the Palace was visible at its centre. It had huge stone supports on the outside, but all of the walls were made out of iron. In the sun, the unnatural creation gleamed so brightly it was hard to look at, though the iron itself seemed dark in comparison to a metal sword.
They couldn’t see much detail—it was miles away. Vaenuth pulled an extra cot from one of the drawers in the sleeping room. There were already two in place, one for Vaenuth and one for Banno. She awaited the arrival of her trunk from the camp outside the walls, she had only a few clothes here, and nothing fancy.
They shared a quick meal, but Vaenuth kept her eyes out the open window. She would see the Iron Palace much closer soon. Once she was ready. She looked at the sealed envelope in her hands, longing to open it… soon, she would go and meet Ovoe the Keeper, and ask him who had enslaved her seventeen years ago.