by Jean Johnson
“That is a better idea, Jinji,” their chief mage told her. “I’ll be there shortly.”
***
Medjant Kumon
Red Rocks Valley
Even with the sleek, pointed, mirror-polished skydart shielded by an illusion that made it look like nothing more than heat-shimmered air, the Efrijt of Medjant Kumon knew they were there. A quartet of the tall, muscular humanoids met them in the landing yard with drawn weapons. Since Efrijt magic did not work well in this realm, they wielded long metal rods that shot long metal darts with the aid of explosive powders. Naturally, that meant Ban emerged first from the Fae vehicle after its cloaking spell faded.
“What is your business here, el-fae?” the lead female asked, lifting her brick red chin and baring her tusks, her orange eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You are not scheduled to visit for another five weeks.”
“El-shae. I am an outworlder, not a Fae. Get your insults right,” Ban returned, not at all insulted by being called a slimy Fae. “I must also remind you that we are free to visit, as per the terms of our contract. Are you going to violate that contract?”
He looked pointedly at the harpoon-launchers in their hands, aimed at his black-clad body.
Huffing an annoyed breath, the leader of the quartet hoisted the muzzle toward the ceiling. “You arrived invisible. That could be misconstrued as an attack, el-shae.”
“We’re in a bit of a hurry. My son’s health and safety have been compromised,” Muan stated, stepping out of the slender vehicle now that their weapons were pointed harmlessly upward. Like Ban, she wore loosely gathered trousers tucked into boots, a loose tunic with long sleeves, and a belt blousing her shirt; her clothes were the usual subtle shades of gold and beige favored by the Fae, however. “We will need to see Sejo Zakal, Sefo Harkut, and Daro Dakin immediately to discuss how it happened.”
The lead female frowned, but gestured for the others to go back to their duties. She holstered her weapon over her shoulder and tugged on her brown-and-red fitted tunic, long-sleeved and suitable for the somewhat chilly spring air of the northwestern mountains. “Who put the child’s life in danger? One of you?”
Emerging last from the skydart, Kefer answered even as he straightened his clothes, tunic, and trousers and an overcoat in shades of honey, gold, and amber. Ban knew he picked the reddish tones to be more soothing to Efrijt sensibilities than more pure Fae hues. “The underaged child in question has been consuming mercury in secret. We are here to determine the side effects and treatment methods for a half-breed Dai-Fae-Efrijt suffering from mercury sickness, including how to handle any addiction problems.”
“Since mercury obviously is not mined at our settlement, it is clear Udrin acquired it here,” Muan added.
“Mercury sickness?” the Efrijt asked, bristling at his words. She didn’t quite bring her weapon down again, but it did twitch in her grip. “Are you blaming us for something that is forbidden?”
“We are here to determine how he got his hands it,” Kefer stated. “Inform the sejo, the sefo, and Daro Dakin that we need to discuss this matter immediately—every moment wasted in hesitation or debate is another moment the child spends suffering from half-breed poisoning.”
“Why didn’t you just cure him?” she scorned. “You have all the magic in this land! Just wave your hands and fix him!”
“Because the contract specifically mentions that both parental races must be consulted before undergoing any major medical procedure,” Muan stated, frowning at the Efrijt. “Go fetch the sejo, the sefo, and my co-parent, without delay. We will go to the negotiations room to await their arrival.”
“Send whoever is available as soon as they become available,” Kefer added, striding forward with the smooth, almost gliding gait of his kind. He wore a loosely knitted vest over his tunic, and carried a document satchel bulging with a copy of the paperwork drawn up and agreed upon by both factions. “Inform Sefo Harkut that he will need to share information related to the health and well-being of an Efrijt-Fae child. Without charging us, as per contract.”
“Arrogant el-fae,” the Efrijt muttered.
“You would be just as concerned for the welfare of your own child, were they being poisoned by a Fae delicacy,” Muan countered dryly, and received a nod of allowance on that point from the orange-eyed female.
The negotiation room was not far from the gorge holding the landing yard. It had several pleasant pieces of furniture, richly dyed and embroidered cushions to pad the seats, a jar of water and several porcelain cups for quenching thirst on a side table, along with a bowl of dried fruits and nuts for sating hunger. In the center stood a beautiful, long table crafted primarily from a smooth, reddish lumber inlaid with tiny bits of metal, pearlescent sea shell fragments, and other hues of wood all polished to smooth, flat perfection.
Ban liked that table. The Fae preferred paler colors because of the way their eyes worked, but to the Shae, it reminded him of his ancient past, and the ornate, naturally red furnishings his original people preferred to craft from various hardwoods. He let Kefer settle in the negotiator’s seat at one end, Muan to her fellow Fae’s right, and poured three cups of water from the jug. Sipping from each with a little pause, he nodded and passed over the cups, then tried some of the fruit, before giving it his approval as well.
Neither Fae commented on his precautions; he knew that to them, Ban was just being Ban. After more than three thousand years, it was inevitable he would have encountered treacheries from supposed friends and allies in his past. Of course, Ban didn’t think the Efrijt would poison the Fae—that was forbidden by contract under the “shall not kill or harm each other” clauses—but drugs to make a person more easily suggestible could be slipped into their food and drink.
These Efrijt played by the rules, so far. Ban still remembered the ones who had played strictly by the letter of an offer, warping the spirit of it and trying to ensnare him in eternal magebound slavery. When Daro Dakin entered, Ban moved to the seat to Kefer’s left and settled in place. This was one of the few Efrijt Ban almost liked; he wasn’t arrogant, he wasn’t resentful, and he actually didn’t mind dealing with Muan, now that they had gotten to know each other. It could even be said that the two had developed a friendship, despite both being on opposing sides, and each coming from a somewhat reserved race.
He didn’t look very imposing, for an Efrijt. Dakin had rust brown skin a few shades redder than his son’s tanned hide, auburn hair several shades darker than Udrin’s, and pale orange eyes that would never be mistaken for human; Udrin’s eyes looked more like orange-red poppies in hue, taking after his aunt Nazik Urudo, Dakin’s sister. The daro’s clothes today looked utilitarian, if finely woven; the artisan wore trousers and a sleeveless tunic in shades of brown with a lighter beige canvas apron dusted in wood shavings and random crafting stains.
However much his work had clearly been interrupted, he didn’t bare his tusks in annoyance. The daro-ranked Efrijt merely sat down with a sigh and asked in Faelon, “What has the boy done now?”
“Mercury,” Muan replied blandly.
“What?” Bristling in abrupt anger, Dakin slammed the edge of his fist on the table. “That is forbidden to children! If one of you—!”
Ban arched a brow, but didn’t have to do anything. Dakin cut himself off, closed his eyes, and bowed his head, breathing hard. After a moment, he spoke, somewhat calmer than his outburst. Somewhat.
“. . . I apologize. Of course one of you would not. You do not endanger children, and you have no access to it, outside of your visits here. I will see that whoever is responsible on our side is punished,” the Efrijt growled, drawing down his bottom lip in a grimace far enough to bare his tusks. He frowned in the next moment. “But . . . there have been no reports of mercury gone missing. Every microdram is carefully measured and accounted from when it leaves the retorts to when it goes through the portals to be sold.”
<
br /> Ban eyed the outworlder’s clothes, and pointed at his apron, realizing something. “As an artisan, you carefully measure and account for every piece of wood you cut and shape . . . but do you think of the sawdust that coats your clothes? The Red Rocks Tribe used to paint their skin in vermillion, the red dust ground from cinnabar, the ore that contains the mercury you seek. They did this whenever they would fight, before you came . . . and the warriors who fought too much, who painted themselves too heavily, developed mercury poisoning from the pigment they wore.
“So. Do you account for every gram of ore dust?” Ban asked. “Even I believe your people would not risk punishment for giving the boy mercury . . . but could he have gained access to the unmeasured dust?”
Dakin’s brow furrowed, tusks baring in a grimace. “Yes . . . yes, he could have done that. It would not be as effective or as pleasant for a full-blooded Efrijt . . . but he is a half-breed.” He hesitated, thinking, then shrugged slightly. “I have heard Kuro Talan—the Overseer of the Mines—complaining about having to discard food occasionally, from dust contaminating supplies meant for the humans.”
Kefer raised one of his ash blond brows at that. “I’m surprised your people waste the food, rather than eat it, if all that is wrong with it is a little vermillion dust.”
“I have been told the Fae need calcium for strong bones, just as we do. Do you prefer to consume it by drinking milk or the juice of certain fruits, or by chewing gritty seashell dust?” Dakin countered, arching his own brow. “We sell refined mercury to our employees at a steeply discounted price, so there is no perceived need to eat gritty, imperfect powder.”
“They also have rules about when and where mercury can be consumed,” Muan reminded Kefer. “Doing so in a workplace is forbidden.”
“It is forbidden without permission,” Sejo Zakal stated, entering the negotiation chamber. “And permission is rarely given for mercuric consumption while one works.”
Unlike the casual work attire of Dakin, who quickly rose and faced her, bowing, the sejo of Medjant Kumon wore formal clothes, a knee-length tunic that buttoned down one side, the sleeves bearing matching gilded buttons from elbows to wrists, the trousers bloused and tucked into ankle-high boots. Finely woven in flame-colored patterns, the outworlder silk looked utterly unsuitable for any sort of physical work. Ban expected that from the leader of the merchant-house; her job was to manage, not to labor.
Despite the formality of her clothes, her soot black hair fell loose around her shoulders, framing her reddish tanned face with a touch of casualness. More proof of how she tolerated this unexpected visit lay in how those burgundy eyes viewed the Fae with no apparent distaste. Unlike their initial meetings years before, Sejo Zakal had come to tolerate and even appreciate the Fae. She would not bend the width of a finger for them, for they were not Efrijt, but she would bend the width of a hair.
Out of polite respect, Kefer, Muan, and even Ban stood and bowed. Not as deeply as her employee did, but neither were they Jintaya, and were not social equals to the sejo. Nor were they in Fae territory, where formality gave way to fluidity.
Kefer, as the leader of the three visitors, addressed her. “Greetings, Sejo of Medjant Kumon. We regret having to visit so precipitously. We are here because we need to discuss medical protocols. Our contracted child, Udrin, has somehow gained access to mercury.”
Zakal scowled at that. “He is still underage. Such things are forbidden. Do you accuse one of my people of giving him access?”
Kefer shook his head and gestured to his left. “No, Sejo. Ban-taje believes it is more likely he has been consuming vermillion dust on the sly.”
That arched her black brow. “Ban ‘taje’ has always been skeptical of our motives. If he believes we are not responsible, that is reassuring . . . and yet disturbing. There should have been no access.”
She looked at the child’s father a moment, then gestured toward the table, and settled herself at the end of the table opposite Kefer. The others reseated themselves as well. Dakin, third-ranked and merely a craftsman, however skilled, cleared his throat. “It is possible the child gained access to ore dust via discarded foods. He also could have bribed the mine workers to bring him some ore dust.”
“They have worked for a full generation in those mines. They know that bringing dust out of there poses a hazard to the health of their fellow humans as well as themselves. It is possible some may have done so in exchange for some magical favor . . . but he has enough power, he could with effort liberate dust from the mines without being caught. How much mercury has the child consumed?” Zakal asked.
Muan shook her head. “We do not yet know. Extracting it is a major medical magic. By contract, we are obliged to consult with the Efrijt before undertaking that step. Especially as we are uncertain of the effects of withdrawing it, given how he is half Efrijt, and how it has a positive systemic effect on your race, however negative it is for our own kind.”
“We require access to medical information on other Efrijt-Fae half-breeds, and the effects of mercury on such undeveloped children,” Kefer stated. “It was not necessary to know such things before now, as we had faith your people would abide by your rules about restricting its access to those who are immature. We, of course, have neither access nor the desire to handle mercury in any form.”
“We acknowledge your lack of mercury sources, and that your conscientious care of the child’s health has been exemplary so far,” Zakal allowed, dipping her head. “We also acknowledge that he is of that rebellious age wherein the rules are often flouted. We will need to discuss suitable punishments. Daro, go request the sefo’s presence.”
Rising, the third-ranked male bowed to his leader and left the room.
Muan politely filled the quiet while they waited, asking about the weather, the crops, the health of the locals and the outworlders in the region. Zakal answered her questions and asked similar ones about the peoples settled in the heart of Flame Sea Territory. Those courtesies passed the time until the co-head of Medjant Kumon arrived, entering with a vaguely familiar fellow following in his wake.
As far as Ban understood the position, the position of sefo meant managing the flow of both cash and data for the merchant house. Together, a sefo and a seso—the co-head of operations, the person directing the actual work being done by the workers—could overrule their co-leader, the sejo at the tip of the leadership triangle. So far, Sefo Harkut and Seso Parut had supported every step that the Fae knew about Sejo Zakal’s decisions.
Past middle age, Sefo Harkut had faint gray streaks in his shoulder-length auburn red hair, lines creasing the ruddy tan skin around his ruby red eyes, and slightly rumpled dark blue clothes. Ban wasn’t certain how old he was, probably around six or seven centuries at the very least, possibly even over a thousand years old. The male accompanying him, with bright orange curls, light orange eyes, and burnt sienna brown skin that made his orange and gold clothes stand out cheerfully, looked to be close to the sefo’s age.
“Greetings, Sefo Harkut. Kuro Chadesh Agadel, it is good to see you again,” Muan greeted him.
“Daro Muan,” the orange-haired male returned politely, if briskly, while the financial officer took a seat next to the house leader. Daro Dakin reentered the room, bowed to Zakal, and took his place at the table, if one chair over, ceding his position to the rank of the older fellow.
Thankfully, Ban recognized the name and the rank of the orange-haired fellow. Kuro meant Overseer, and Chadesh was the name of the Medjant Kumon medical officer, their house doctor. Ban had only met the fellow once before. Of course, it made sense for him to be brought into this meeting; Kuro Chadesh might not be able to cast the necessary spells for curing Udrin’s combination of addiction and poisoning problem, but he would have far more understanding about what was happening to the youth than anyone else.
From the size of the paper-filled box the kuro placed on the ornately in
laid tabletop, he had already anticipated this situation as a potential problem at some point. After bowing to the sejo and the sefo, he addressed that very point. “If I may get straight to the problem at hand, as I have cautioned before, the blending of Efrijt and Fae bloodlines does not always happen homogenously. It also does not happen consistently.
“With the permission of the Flame Sea Pantean contingent, of course,” the medic prefaced, “I believe it is necessary to remove the contracted child, Udrin Dai-Fae Urudo, from this world to Kasir, to be fully evaluated medically. Once he has been examined, he can be given suitable treatment to remove the mercury from his system, and any other treatments necessary in order to repair any damages accrued by his Fae biology. He can also be evaluated and treated to reduce or remove mercuric addiction in his Efrijt half.”
“The Flame Sea Pantean does not find this proposal acceptable,” Kefer stated flatly. “The contract specifies that the child shall be raised on this world, not any other, in order to properly settle the rights of access and governance. Allowing him to travel to the homeworld of the Efrijt nation without also being able to travel to the homeworld of the Fae nation would form an undue level of influence upon his decision.”
“It is not our fault your nation has not reinitiated contact with your outposts,” Sejo Zakal replied smoothly, if smugly.
“Neither is it ours,” Kefer countered.
“The subject of my son’s suffering should not be sidetracked by pride or competitiveness,” Muan snapped.
“I must agree with my co-parent,” Dakin added, actually daring to give his three superiors a flat look. “Can experts be brought here from the homeworld? Or perhaps examination equipment? At the very least, testimonials on what to look for and how to treat each variant of his potential condition?”
