3.26. A Reunion (Patreon)

The next morning, Mumu gathered the hunters for a briefing, but most of them had already heard some version of the previous day’s events, and it was just a matter of setting the record straight and filling in details.

A somber relief swirled through the room as the hunters listened, shifting towards worry once Mumu got to the part about her and Tegen’s injuries. That turned into dread when she spoke about what she’d learned from the grandmaster.

Apparently, the wind-touched among the Thikilei family dead had been an important part of the city’s defenses—helping to pass messages and spread aerial poisons. Their loss wouldn’t endanger the city, but it would be felt.

The matter was almost guaranteed to be brought before the land knight, and the grandmaster recommended that Mumu not leave the city for the time being. The hunters rumbled in response, but Mumu told them that the hunt was over, their responsibility to the lodge was complete, and that they were free to return home at any time. All lodge obligations were postponed until further notice; the only instruction was to travel quickly in order to report to the village’s leadership as soon as they arrived in Voorhei.

Afterward, every hunter found some way to grab some time with Mumu and Tegen to check on their health and share a home remedy or two. None of the suggestions reached the level of debunked myths like drinking milk when poisoned, but a few came close.

Two hunters volunteered to stay in Albei: Dura and Miri. They were both qi users, and made it plain that they were doing so, just in case my team ran into assassins again. Ahlrein made a fuss about wanting to stay too, which triggered an intense, hushed argument between Miri and him. The fight ended with Ahlrein stomping out of the room to go pack.

I checked on Teila afterward, but she said she was fine—her parents often didn’t get along and she was used to it. Which was a lie, but there wasn’t anything I could do to fix their marriage. So, I suggested we go shopping later, and that cheered her a little. To be clear, a thorn of worry was lodged in her and all our hearts, but none of us could afford to stop our lives.

As the departing hunters left to get their gear in order, one of the inn’s staff stopped by to let us know that Uncle Kila had arrived. He was waiting for us in the dining room downstairs.

###

Uncle Kila leaned back against a cushion, ignoring a steaming cup on the table in front of him. His eyes were far away in thought as he tugged at one of his trademark muttonchops. He wore a dark blue jacket over gold-colored pants, and on his head was a brimless, close-fitting woolen cap in a gold-and-blue diamond pattern.

Standing nearby were two guards, each armed with spears and swords. They had three talents apiece focused on martials arts, but nothing else about them stood out. One leaned down to whisper to Uncle Kila, and his eyes locked onto Mumu and me as we walked downstairs.

He rose to welcome us, and gestured to the innkeepers to bring more drinks.

“Oh, my dearest Mumu and Eight. You have my sincerest condolences. When your Susunou shared the news of Inneioleia’s death, I was heartbroken. He was a great man, a truly great man.”

“Thank you,” Mumu said, her voice rough.

“And the rest was a tragedy, of course. I only wish you’d come to me sooner; I would’ve done my best to help.”

“Well, we could use your help now,” I said.

“And so you will have it, young Eight!”

Uncle Kila paused as a server brought over two cups—the drink was a green juice that’d been scalded, tasting of almonds and cardamom—and he waited politely for us to taste them before continuing. “I’ve been tracking the alchemists’ wares closely, and they don’t have anything for sale resembling an elixir to heal damaged meridians. However, that doesn’t mean they’re incapable. Their lodge is treasure trove of recipes and formulas, and we only need to find out if such an elixir is unavailable due to a lack of demand or a lack of ingredients.”

“So let’s go over there to ask,” I said.

“Already done, my boy—I sent a messenger last night, and the lodge is investigating their records. They should have a response for us by this afternoon, tomorrow at the latest.”

Mumu frowned. “The longer we stay in the city, the riskier it will be for Eight.”

“Ah, yes. The assassin.” Uncle Kila was usually pretty good about keeping his thoughts tight within his spirit—being a merchant, he was no open book—but every once in a while, I saw steel under his friendly exterior. “These two are guards from my own house,” he said, gesturing. “And there are another two outside, hired from the Soldier’s Lodge at my own expense. They are yours for as long as you stay in Albei.”

That was a bigger gesture than I expected from him. Sure, the eilesheile I’d been selling him was generating a lot of income for me—I was definitely rich by village standards—but it shouldn’t have been that big a deal for a decent-sized merchant family like his.

Was it Mumu and his relationship to her and the Hunter’s Lodge that triggered it? She’d been acting as the front for my dealings with Uncle Kila, but she also had her own. “Mumu’s an important client, eh? And you want to protect her precious apprentice.”

“She is, yes, but you are also your own bright talent. I would be a fool not to invest in you too.”

That was surprisingly direct, and it felt good to hear. I mean, he was a merchant, so his tongue was practically coated in honey, but still—

His Charm attribute is probably high, Yuki observed.

You think he’s playing me?

Yes, but we like him anyway.

Me too, I thought. He’s been fair in all his dealings.

To Uncle Kila I said, “Thank you. I’ll accept your generosity.”

“Good,” he said. “I’d hoped you’d say so. Now, I have two pieces of good news: the first is that the alchemists predict that they will finish processing the golden slumber in three days.”

“That is good news,” Mumu said. “Any updates on the quality?”

“Oh, yes. They now estimate that the mound was over three centuries old.” Uncle Kila’s eyes shone as he smiled. “We should be able to get between forty and fifty antaak for it.”

That was way more than we’d expected, and unlike with the kalihchi bear, we’d be splitting the shares between fewer people—just the hunters who’d come to my rescue at the Evil Mushroom Meadow.

Kila had arranged the logistics for the safe retrieval of the golden slumber, as well as negotiating the deal with the alchemists, which was why he was taking a thirty percent cut of the deal. That still meant a profit of twenty-eight to thirty-five antaak, though. Let’s see: split ten ways, with me taking a triple share, I can expect something between seven and nine antaak. Nice.

I asked, “We don’t know how much it will cost to treat Mumu and Tegen, do we?”

He shook his head. “Alas, we don’t. It will depend on the rarity of the ingredients and the degree of effort required.”

“They’re going to try to win back their money,” Mumu said.

“Of course they are,” Uncle Kila said, laughing, “but that is why you have me.”

I couldn’t help but add: “And why we’re paying you such a handsome fee.”

“That too,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Definitely a high Charm, I thought.

Uh huh, Yuki said. But is he wrong?

Nope, that’s one thing I learned in my previous life: competent professionals are expensive, but they’re worth every penny.

“For the second piece of good news...” Uncle Kila stood, and gestured for us to follow him. He led us out the front door to where Agath and Moon stood guarding the entrance.

I yelled in happy surprise, and ran up to them both. As Moon patted me on the head, Agath smiled, and said, “It is good to see you too, young Eight.” She gently patted me on the back, her hand as big as a dinner plate.

The last time I’d seen them was when they’d come through Voorhei on an expedition west of the village. They’d spent the night, and had a nice dinner with my family. We‘d talked about the hunt for the kalihchi bear, of course, but also what life was like in the Soldier’s Lodge and bit about Dolbec’s Rock too. The brother and sister were incredibly fond of children, and it was heartwarming to see them with Billisha and Aluali.

Man, but did we have to cook a lot of food, though. Moon and Agath knew how to eat.

The dolbecs were kitted out, each wearing brigandine and carrying shields, spears, swords, and daggers. I took a quick look with my Status camera to see if anything had changed:

Agath of Dolbec’s Rock (Human, Dolbec, Dawn)
Talents: Sturdy, Shieldmaiden, Enduring, Loyal
Nascent: Skilled

Moon of Dolbec’s Rock (Human, Dolbec, Dusk)
Talents: Stalwart, Natural Skirmisher, Adventurous, Battered Loyalty
Nascent: Spear and Board

Something must’ve happened since the last time I’d seen them—Moon’s loyalty had changed from Loyalty to Battered Loyalty. Unless it was a symptom of him being dusk? A degeneration, as it were. He’d been the first person I’d met who hadn’t been corrupted by darklight—the only negative so far seemed to be his inability to speak—but maybe it was only a matter of time.

Moon wasn’t a friend exactly, but he hadn’t run during the fight with the kalihchi bear. He’d stuck it out through something hard and terrible, and that meant something to me. I worried for him.

“When I went to the soldiers to recruit help for you,” Uncle Kila said, “I remembered that you’d worked together before, and thought you’d enjoy doing so again.”

“You’re a clever man, Uncle Kila.”

“Cleverness in business is second only to trust, and I value both highly.” A faint smile crossed his lips as he watched the reunion. “I'll note that these two both possess loyalty-based talents, which is important given the situation you’re in.”

I nodded to show that I’d known. During their visit, we’d talked about talents too, and how a thread of comradeship-bonding-teamwork ran through all dolbecs, along with their size and toughness. Those traits were all passed down from the first Dolbec, the one their people were named after.

Uncle Kila continued: “There was a third soldier who expressed interest in the contract, but our friend Agath here shared that the person in question might not be a good fit.”

I looked at Agath, the question on my face.

“His name is Mikal,” she said, “and he is Otwei’s birth brother.”

“She had a brother?” I asked. That was news to me—Otwei had not thought or even dreamt about her family once while Yuki had been monitoring her. At the time, I figured that she was an orphan like so many others, but in hindsight, it’d been a bit unnatural.

“She was a stump,” Agath said, clarifying. “Her family followed the way of the soldier, and when she was found to possess hunter talents, they arranged a valeisten instead of keeping her.”

My reaction was instant distaste—the valeisten was essentially a ceremony for selling children from one family to another. It was based on the belief that some children get lost along the way between death and birth and are accidentally born to the wrong parents. They take on the physical characteristics of their birth family because that was their passage into the world, but their spirits recalled who their parents were meant to be.

The evidence for that was ironclad—the World Spirit. In other words, a child’s talents would always point to their ‘real’ parents after they’d been ‘accidentally’ born to the wrong family. The valeisten was supposed to be a way to correct that mistake.

The ceremony was also used to adopt orphaned children, assuming they have the necessary talents. In that case, the kids were assumed to be long-lost relatives.

That’s why I had been pleased at first to hear about the ceremony. It made the adoption process simple, both legally and culturally, but then I’d learned the full extent of its use, and I... well... I had a weeklong argument with just about everyone in Voorhei. The effort had been wasted, though, and it’d provided my first real clue that people understood talents differently than I did. To the people of this world, they were essential markers of where you came from, who you were, and where you were intended to go in life.

Agath continued: “Otwei’s father is known to be a man on a rigid path. When he learned her first talent was Tracker, he found no use for her and chose instead to reunite her with her true family.”

“Even though scouts and soldiers are related,” Moon signed, shaking his head.

“Otwei never spoke about either family,” Agath said. “We only learned of this Mikal after he approached us, having heard that we’d worked with her. He’d been hoping to meet this distant relative of his, but alas, we only had bad news for him.”

“Is he going to be a problem for Voorhei?” I asked. “Otwei died on behalf of one of our residents.”

The dolbecs looked at each other, spirit stuff floating easily between them. “We doubt it,” Agath said. “Mikal seemed mildly curious at best. We asked Kila not to hire him as a precaution and to limit the number of uncertainties.”

“So how is this going to work then?” I asked. “We’ve been splitting up when walking around town so as to not be instantly recognizable, but with four guards tagging along, we’re going to be really easy to spot.”

Moon grinned, looking sly. “We thought to dress you up like the young master of a wealthy family, and Agath and I would be your bodyguards.”

“If your hunters are willing,” Agath said, “they can join Kila’s family guards as floaters. Do you know that word? They’ll pretend to be unassociated, but will be traveling with us to keep watch for trouble and intercede if needed.”

She nudged Uncle Kila, and he handed me a leather bag. “I have a nephew about your size. Some of his clothes are inside.”

“But me? A young master? That’s rich.” I chuckled, but everyone just looked at me funny. “Well, I suppose I do have a bit of money now.”

###

The jacket was a rich blue brocade stitched with stylized chliapp lions in gold thread. Putting it on was like slipping into a cool-yet-comfortable room. I’d have to ask Bihei how much one would cost to make—it looked and felt expensive. At least, the pants and shirt were more ordinary; they used good wool in whites and dark browns. Still, from the quality of the stitching and the clarity of the colors, the clothes were all very well made.

When I stepped out into the hall, the remaining hunters jeered and called me a ‘preening songbird.’ I laughed, and told them to shut up.

Outside, Moon and Agath waited for me, and there was no one nearby whose spirits indicated any out-of-the-ordinary interest. I got some looks because of the jacket, but they were tinged with envy more than anything.

From the across the street, Dura gave me the all-clear, and I started towards the Geista district, with Moon and Agath a couple of steps behind me. My team and Kila’s family guards had already dispersed along the way ahead of us. A glance back showed Dura and Miri slipping into the flow of traffic farther back.

We were headed to visit the smiths called Goost and Pleik that I’d seen selling weapons at the Geista open market. When I’d mentioned them, Moon had recognized their names, and let me know that the nisaak siblings ran a proper shop in Geista. They’d also caused a stir lately by renting a table in the plaza so that they could gather opinions about their weapons.

Obviously, as skilled artisans they understood how their products were being used, but this was a new kind of research: where before they focused on the minute details of their client’s needs, their aim now was to reach more broadly and seek as much input as possible

It sounded a lot like market research to me, which was actually kind of cool. As off-putting as some of this world’s practices were, I also recognized the cleverness of its people. They had to ferret out every advantage given how hard life was. Heh, just give it a couple of years, and I bet they’ll stumble on the idea of focus groups too.

In any case, the trip was uneventful. The shop, on the other hand, was a wonderland of weapons, and carried swords, polearms, knives, and hammers in a bewildering array of sizes and configurations. I even spotted a chain-whip combo that would’ve fit right in on the set of an 80’s ninja flick. And, of course there was a section devoted to ranged weapons—from bows and crossbows to throwing spikes and something that looked like a kpinga. I’d seen one of the African multi-bladed throwing knives at the... was it the British Museum? I thought that was it.

Unfortunately, both Goost and Pleik were out, so I didn’t get a chance to meet them in person. I had to talk to a journeyman instead to purchase four new knives: two hunting and two stilettos. All of them were Level 1 too, using a 70-30 mix of silver and darklight. The shop took pride in the fact that all their weapons were enchanted to at least that degree.

Honestly, the experience was hugely instructive. I got to actually see with my own eyes the impact of leveling up weapons. For example, Level 1 blades kept their edges longer and resisted chipping. Level 2 could be honed to an extraordinary degree without endangering the weapon’s integrity. You could pound a Level 3 blade with a hammer, and it still wouldn’t break. And so on.

I also learned that Level 2 cost an antaak extra, while Level 3 was three of the small gold coins. Then, I had to ask about the magic dagger I’d traded to Ikfael, and the journeyman estimated that it was probably Level 5 and worth about twenty-eight and a half antaak. Wow. Just, wow.

Finally, I arranged for replacement handles for my bone stilettos. One would be walnut, the other hickory, and both would include an illustration burnt into the wood of an otter’s face. The cost was an eltaak each—not cheap—but it’d be worth it. That included a rush fee, so that they’d finish the work in a couple of hours.

While we waited, we found a nearby café to hang out in. The outdoor seating was tempting, but it was safer inside, and that was the option we went with. It also gave me the chance to close my spirit eyes, and rest them for a time. It was like escaping from a loud, boisterous party, the sudden quiet almost dizzying.

Agath and Moon were on duty, so they didn’t eat, but I ordered the Triple Special—a terrine layered with roast javelina meat, a javelina ham, and javelina bacon. That was topped with grilled potatoes and then covered with a white gravy of some kind. Pork three ways—how could that be wrong? It couldn’t, that was how.

And yes, it felt surreal to enjoy a meal while surrounded by guards and in fear of an assassin, while my friends were injured, including a spiritually wounded otter, and not to forget the lodge was in trouble too. But the food was good. And if the back of my mind wouldn’t, couldn't, stop dwelling on the problems we faced, I’d do my damnedest to focus on the here and now.