3.32. Kicking the Pyramid I  (Patreon)

I left Uncle Kila’s residence feeling cautiously hopeful. We’d talked through three mugs’ worth of atole, long enough to get invited to lunch, which we’d eaten while working. From the way Kuta had rolled his eyes, it seemed to be something that Kila did frequently.

Anyway, I’d sold the tournament as best I could, and now it was up to Kila to pitch it to his family heads. Fortunately, they’d recently emerged from seclusion, and were available to make a decision about the loan.

I worried that I wouldn’t be there to answer any questions they might have, but Kila had said that they preferred to meet privately first when discussing big opportunities. They’d call me be back if/when they wanted to talk to me personally. As for a time frame on the decision, Uncle Kila had shrugged. He’d understood the urgency of the ask, and had promised to expedite the process.

According to Mumu, we had a couple days for the gears of bureaucracy to turn, but then the decision would be handed down. Traditionally, we’d get a couple of weeks to get the money together, but given the reported tone of the trial, she wasn’t sure we could count on it.

Was the case I’d made to Kila convincing enough? I thought so, and my gut agreed. And now it was his job to win over the family heads. Which, presumably, he was experienced at doing.

Let the professional do his thing, I reminded myself. Focus on what’s next.

Agath strode beside me, her armor rustling and the shield on her back clattering against it. “We continue, heading to the pyramid next as planned?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “They need to be informed about what Ikfael intends.”

She glanced down toward me. “I’ve heard of spirits in other cities holding festivals, but this will be a first for Albei. Our other spirits aren’t as... accommodating to people as Ikfael.”

On the other side, Moon signed, “She has gained in power since the last time we were in Voorhei, and her relationship to the village has deepened. Is that your doing, Eight?”

“Ikfael’s power is her own,” I said, and it was true: family and friends were a part of a person’s power, so Yuki should be included. “As for the villagers, I helped to introduce them to her, but they were the ones who drew her out of her shell. Don’t get me wrong... I had a role, but it was as a facilitator. The impetus came from Ikfael. All of this—the tournament, the Healing Water spell, everything—is from Ikfael’s desire to improve humanity’s lot in this region. She’s benevolent that way. That’s how we came up with the tournament idea; it’s a way for people to potentially gain a huge reward from her for a small exchange.”

And that was the cover story we were going with, our best attempt to deflect retaliation against anyone who participated in the tournament—either as a contestant or an organizer. Ikfael was the pillar holding it all up, and the hunters from Voorhei, just happened to be the ones closest to her, helping out.

It was a flimsy excuse, but plausible. Ikfael had once been Ikiira—human with a prior relationship to Voorhei. That should be enough of a hook for people to let them build their own rationalizations for how and why she might do something like this. The trick was to provide just enough information to feed their imaginations, but not so much to overcomplicate the story and tangling ourselves up trying to maintain it.

I crossed my fingers that it’d be enough.

Moon saw me, and asked, “I don’t know that sign.”

“I’m wishing for good luck and everything going to plan.”

He nodded, and crossed his fingers on my behalf. On the other side of me, Agath did too.

“May it be so,” she said.

###

Albei’s pyramid stood as imposing as ever, a burly mountain at the center of the city. There were fewer people present this time—maybe a tenth compared to the last time I was here. That’d been at the end of the day, at a time when people were more likely to stop by to donate their mana to the city’s core.

The pyramid’s southern facing was painted white, but I noticed red accents on many of the animals painted onto it. I spotted buffalo, pumas, serpents, and crows, among others. The stairs leading up to the entrance were steep, and my short legs had to stretch to go from step to step.

As we passed through into the pyramid itself, I saw a pair of massive stone doors on wheels, along with a sophisticated set of gears to help with opening and closing them. The doors looked as sturdy as the rest of the pyramid, and would no doubt be difficult to breach when they were closed.

To the immediate left and right were two spheres atop thin, stone pillars. They smelled like dasekua, and my understanding was that the spheres were connected to the city’s core—a convenient way to contribute mana without having to go to the pyramid’s center.

Interestingly, the bottoms of the pillars were notched. A couple of good whacks, and they’d break.

The rest of the entrance hall was only about as big a typical bank lobby, which surprised me. Given the pyramid’s size, I’d expected something more substantial. Also, the ground immediately sloped down on all sides, so that it looked like there was a sunken living room at the hall’s center. As a result, the room effectively had two levels—an outer rim surrounding a lower area—which meant that someone invading the pyramid would be funneled into the lower level and have to climb back out in order to get anywhere.

Ringing around the room, world speakers sat on rugs at the ready to provide consultations, while down below were a series of five circular pedestals in a row. A couple of young children stood on two of them, their families watching on as their spirits were read.

There were arched doors to the left and right of the hall, while a cased opening opposite the entrance led to a wide corridor. That was where we needed to go, deeper into the pyramid, and Agath showed the way. She just had to duck first to get under the head portion of the opening.

Inside, there were more doors, but we skipped past them, following the gently sloping floor to a jog in the corridor. We turned with it, and kept going until another jog. It was just past that second turn, when we arrived at a lobby featuring another sunken floor. There was a sign with directions and doors surrounding the room, but Agath led us past them all toward a corridor on the other side.

Here the floor steepened, and I noticed slotted vents above us. Cool air flowed through them, and well as the faint sounds of drums and chanting. The music seemed to permeate the stone around us, and it made it feel like the pyramid’s builders were present and accompanying us.

They weren’t, as far as I could tell. None of the areas I’d seen so far had any ghosts lingering; the place was spiritually clean.

As for what was being chanted, the words were difficult to make out, except for a couple of names: Aethas and Trintilei.

Aethas was the first creation of the Imperfect God, and the originator of the rest of Diaksha’s pantheon. As for Trintilei, she was a goddess who was sometimes called the Singer or Fate Weaver.

Embarrassingly, I didn’t know much about either. My conversations with Sheedi, Voorhei’s world speaker, had been almost exclusively about either Ikfael and her shrine or talents and how they worked.

I recalled that Aethas the Watcher was born from the Imperfect God’s attempts to find perfection, and when that didn’t work, they together created nine other gods to help, of which Trintilei was one.

Those nine gods were responsible for the creation of everything else, as well as the various blessings bestowed on humanity. As a result, they were considered active participants in people’s lives. For example, if nothing else, every child had the benefit of Meliune’s Blessing until they either turned ten-years old or became Level 1, whichever came first.

All I knew about Trintilei was her blessing: That no one’s will could be controlled by the gods. The gods might manipulate events, warp the fabric of reality, and otherwise put their individual or collective thumbs on the universe’s scale, but people’s choices for how they responded were their own.

As we walked, my mind uselessly wandered from topic to topic, going down rabbit holes and wondering: how the vents were constructed; about the chances of being able to visit again to exclusively listen to the chanting; and if there was a complete list of the gods.

That last item was unlikely since the original nine created by the Imperfect God and Aethas went on to make a multitude more. And, to complicated matters, the spirits of the land were also considered minor deities. Obviously, they weren’t anything close to the level of the 'real’ gods, but spirits potentially held great sway over people’s lives. Through exchanges, they were an accessible source of extraordinary power.

We counted on the reverence people felt toward them to smooth the way for us.

Eventually, we ran into the equivalent of a receptionist, one who Agath couldn’t just walk past, and after explaining our purpose to him, he directed us to a cramped little room. There, we were instructed to not sit on the cushion reserved for the world speaker, and to wait.

The room really was tiny, though, and there was barely enough room for the dolbecs and their gear. I was forced to sit in Agath’s lap while Kila’s guards had to stand outside in the corridor.

No one on my team or among my guards knew exactly how we should proceed from this point onward—none of them had done anything like this before—so we settled on the idea of working our way up the chain of command, aiming for as high in the hierarchy as possible to gain support for the tournament.

The room we were in didn’t bode well, especially since I was Ikfael’s liaison. But then, it was an eight-year-old making the request. Maybe the receptionist didn’t believe me? Did they have a lot young masters stopping by, demanding to see someone in charge?

After twenty minutes, I was fed up with stewing in my worries, and I closed my eyes to meditate. Moments later, I was distracted by Agath petting my head like I was cat. I bore with it, though; if it helped to calm her own nerves, I didn’t mind.

It was a bit much when she passed me over to Moon, so that he could take a turn. I’d just opened my eyes and was about to say something when the door finally opened.

In walked Sheedi, Voorhei’s world speaker, in mud-splattered blouse, trousers, and boots. Her hair, which was normally neatly ordered with pins, was windblown and scattered. She was dawn, but her agitation was so great, I saw the irritation-upset-concern being riled up from within.

Sheedi the World Speaker (Human, Dawn)
Talents: Fire-Touched, Skilled Interpreter, Calm, Ambitious
Nascent: Insuppressible

“I came as soon as I heard,” she said. “Tell me everything.”

###

Sheedi listened intently, belying the mad rush it must’ve taken for her to get to Albei so quickly. Her questions interspersed my retelling of recent events, but they were rarely about the events themselves and instead focused on the people who’d performed them.

Aslishtei garnered special attention, as did Vorkut the Master Healer. She also cared about Sondo the Captain of the Gates, Wusta of Crunei’s Garden, Ereinwa the Alchemist, and of course Ikfael too—about our spirit of the land’s wellbeing, reactions to what happened, and intentions moving forward.

I watched her as we talked, and there was a fever deep within Sheedi’s eyes—a heat that I’d never seen before. Normally, she carried herself with a kind of rehearsed ease, but this was a glimpse of her real self.

From her talents, I knew she was ambitious, and I’d learned from the gossip around Voorhei that our village was not her first choice in assignments. No, she’d apparently been forced out of Albei, although the reasons the villagers gave were all remarkably implausible—everything from stealing a valued treasure from the hierophant to setting a rival on fire.

In our prior conversations, she’d never revealed the reason. When I’d asked, she’d said that she was “taking a rest from Albei.” That was clearly preposterous given what I knew of her, but I never pressed for the truth. People should be able to keep their secrets. For me to say otherwise would be baldest hypocrisy.

The fire in Sheedi grew when I explained Ikfael’s new-found power to increase a person’s qi capacity, as well as giving them the chance to learn mana magic. She grabbed me by the shoulders and lifted me from Agath’s lap. Her face was only inches from mine. I saw where the sweat on her brow had evaporated, leaving white flakes.

“Is this true?” she demanded.

“It’s not unlimited; she can only do it once a year, and for about three to four people.”

“The influence you can wield with this ability—”

“Is too dangerous,” I pointed out. “Ikfael herself said so. She wants to help, but not if it endangers the peace, of either her territory or Voorhei.”

“But, but... she could be so much more than she is right now. People would worship her just for a chance at this ‘boon’ of hers.”

“They would,” I said, “and it’s not that she doesn’t want to grow more powerful—just that she has her own priorities and responsibilities.”

Sheedi stared into my eyes, searching for the truth in them.

It was a weird, weird time to get a skill notification.

Barter has increased from 6 to 7.

“I see,” Sheedi said, and put me down gently. “I apologize. I know you’re an adult, and that was inappropriate.”

I waved off her apology. “This means a lot to you; I get it. You don’t need to apologize for anything. Just, please help. We... Ikfael needs as much support as possible behind this plan, and that includes from the world speakers. We can’t let people feel like they can obstruct it because our Hunter’s Lodge is involved.”

Sheedi nodded, and I saw the thoughts whirling in her head. There was still fire in her eyes, but now it was joined with speculation. “This new power,” she asked, “do you know its source? Is it possible to get more?”

“A fortuitous encounter in the past that’s only now become evident to us,” I said, and technically every word of it was true.

“A shame.” Sheedi sat back, and brushed a hand behind her ear. She was surprised to find her hair loose, then she adjusted the pins to bring everything back in order. It was fascinating to watch—how she used the process to settle her mind and emotions. By the time she was done, it was like I was facing the usual Sheedi, only muddier.

“So, you’ll help?”  I asked.

She smiled—the kind that said she had a winning hand and didn’t care if you knew it or not. “Yes, my dear Eight. I will, and... I know exactly what needs to be done.”

Sheedi gestured for us to go out into the corridor, collected the guards waiting out there, and led the way back toward the direction we’d come from. She walked like we were her entourage, taking pride of place at the front, the rest of us trailing after.

World speakers watched her go past—some surprised, some pleased, and some angry. All of them, though, recognized her. And once she’d gone past, a few ran off, like they had important news to deliver.

A part of me worried that by recruiting Sheedi to our cause we’d be inviting trouble. There were clearly unknown political currents at work, but at the same time, our world speaker had the biggest stake in our success. She’d do whatever it took.

Sheedi wasn’t a friend. We didn’t know each other well enough for that—hadn’t had the opportunities to earn each other’s trust—but as I watched her striding ahead of me, I decided that I’d rather bet on her than anyone else I’d seen in the pyramid. She wasn’t quite insuppressible yet, but she was getting there.

“What’s your plan?” I asked, hurrying to catch up. “How are we going to do this?”

Sheedi glanced my way. “Have you ever considered the great many stones at the bottom of a pyramid? That’s the life of most world speakers, and if you don’t want to be one of the bottom stones, you make choices... choices that don’t always lead to where you want them to.”

“Is that what happened to you?” I asked.

“I was once outplayed,” Sheedi said, “and trusted someone I shouldn’t have. I’ve learned better since, and can now recognize who’s reliable and who’s not.”

“You mean Voorhei’s hunters.”

“Some,” she said with a smirk, “more than others.” Then she laughed to see the surprised expression on my face. In my defense, though, I never knew she had it in her to smirk. She’d always seemed to be above it somehow.

Sheedi continued: “I’ve also learned that the best way to win is to make it so that you can’t lose—where every choice your opponent makes ultimately leads to your own victory.”

“That sounds hard to pull off,” I commented.

“There’s an elder among the world speakers named Iseld who is third under the hierophant. She respects talent above all else, and if we can impress her, she should be willing to listen to us. Then, once we have her attention and tell her about Ikfael’s Boon, she’ll agree to almost anything.”

“And that sounds too good to be true,” I said.

“What’s good is that her son possesses remarkable talents in magic, and is yet also remarkably incompetent. He wanted to marry me, yet I refused. He has no sense for qi or mana, and is the worst kind of stump: One blessed with talents locked away by ineptitude. He thought the children produced by our marriage could make up for his uselessness.”

“His mother is the one who sent you to Voorhei,” I said.

“One of them,” Sheedi admitted. “I thought being Fire-Touched would protect me, but it didn’t.”

“You want us to bribe her,” I said.

“Bribe is such an ugly word. We are assuring her cooperation.” Sheedi straightened her shoulders, and turned to look ahead. “I will get what I want, but so will you and the hunters of your lodge. There’s a saying among world speakers: ‘It’s difficult to kick the pyramid.’ What it means is that the base is too stable for anything to change. We must upend the pyramid and kick it to get what we want. Only then will it spin.”

To say that I had reservations about this ‘plan’ of hers was an understatement, but from what I could see, Sheedi genuinely believed what she was saying.

“Okay, I’m in.”