Forge of the Jadugar

by Russ Linton

  "Partly, I'll admit. I also wanted some peace."

  Firetongue nodded her ruddy head. "You do not care for the festivities."

  "The festivities are fine. The company, usually not. I find it hard to maintain my ladylike disguise."

  "Is this why you never stay in Stronghold long?"

  Kaaliya smirked again. She'd come and gone and often found herself spending more time with Chakor's staff than his guests, playing hive stones with the Ek'kiru in the stables or even heckling Chakor's guard on early mornings while they trained and their master slept off whatever bottle of spirits he'd consumed.

  "I leave when I'm bored. Chakor is interesting, but all men bore me eventually."

  "Even Ek'kiru men?"

  Kaaliya smiled, impressed. The question would have been ridiculous if not for the mocking way in which Firetongue spoke it. It was tricky enough for them to replicate human speech. Adding such precise inflection was uncommon, except for perhaps one other unique Ek'kiru she'd met recently.

  "Well, look who's been keeping their antennae toward the gossip."

  Firetongue clicked with laughter. "I listen. Most humans assume I'm unable to comprehend their speech. Even so, I know my own anatomy well enough to understand complete nonsense when it is spoken."

  Kaaliya's eyes widened. "It's gone that far, has it? One dance and now I'm whoring to Ek'kiru?"

  "Well, some spoke such. Though I approve of your taste. A bahadur is quite a catch."

  "Sidge? Attractive?"

  "Oh yes," said Firetongue, her lenses gleaming under the line of street lights. "His coloration is rare. It indicates his family line is unmuddied from our first hive, in Sli'mir's realm."

  "Don't your people object to the ways of those marsh dwellers?"

  "Those barbarians wallow in their essences like lesser beasts. They never learn to control their instinct." Firetongue shuddered. "Bahadur only look the part. A dangerous exterior with a cultured mind." Firetongue's antennae waved in alternating patterns, and she tilted her head back in a gesture Kaaliya had no trouble reading. "Surely you have such men among humans?"

  "I suppose." Kaaliya chewed thoughtfully on her lip, lost in memories of her own. They'd walked past several more emberseed lamps before everything Firetongue had said registered. She burst out laughing. "Sidge? Dangerous? Cute, I'll give you. But dangerous?"

  A satisfied growl issued from the Ek'kiru's throat. "Let me say aside from the anatomical issues, the other reason I know this mating never happened was you still have your head."

  Rarely was Kaaliya surprised by anything she heard. In her travels, she'd seen much. She'd communed with the trolls more times than she could count. Sailed with a Ksijaav through seas of ice. Even been to Abwoon, the Ek'kiru city state, and briefly explored the ordered streets of a city with no gates where outsiders weren't allowed.

  As a general rule, the Ek'kiru didn't discuss their culture and rites. Beyond their gateless city, a temporary settlement for visitors had sprung up to assist with trade and Ek'kiru more predisposed to human contact dwelt there. These inhabitants immersed themselves deeply into human culture, agreeing to menial roles with a docile acceptance which bordered on strange. Yet they regarded their own ways as too plain and banal to merit discussion with outsiders. Firetongue's announcement was the first she'd heard of their mating rituals.

  Kaaliya came to a full stop at the foot of a bridge across the central canal and grabbed Firetongue's closest arm. "You kill each other while mating?"

  Firetongue issued a series of clicks. "Hardly. It wouldn't be nearly as satisfying if we did. Your form is probably too fragile for the process." She ran an antennae along Kaaliya's neck and clipped her mandibles shut. "So be careful which man's trail you choose to alter." She then sauntered onto the bridge.

  "I wasn't trying to…alter anyone's trail." Kaaliya stumbled with the Ek'kiru saying as she rushed to catch up to Firetongue. "Though I'll give you, there were a few awkward moments." She recalled sitting on the bench of the vardo and Sidge pushing his mandibles toward her face or the drunken night he'd asked her to stay.

  "He was a confused one. His maturity had ripened far outside the presence of his own kind. Your intentions may have been misunderstood," replied Firetongue continuing to walk coolly across the bridge.

  "Oh?"

  "Dear, it was obvious. Much as the condition of these lights is obvious to me." Firetongue stopped beneath another lamp mounted on the bridge railing and raced up the pole leaving Kaaliya speechless.

  Kaaliya had often been accused of being flirtatious. In more common circles, where she'd practiced her craft in the early days, those skills had always remained on display. With her current clientele, she'd found a more refined approach necessary. Perhaps on her trip through the countryside she'd slipped into old habits, a mistake she couldn't afford in the Attarah's court.

  He had been an Ek'kiru raised entirely by humans. At the time, a novelty, however, the source of the confusion became clearer the more she thought about his situation.

  A brief flash from the release of the emberseed pulled her attention back to Firetongue, and she watched the illumination fade on the Ek'kiru's chitin. Without regard for the imposing height above the glassy canal, Firetongue skillfully descended and leapt to the bridge, continuing her stroll.

  Confidence in her every move and those direct statements, Kaaliya knew she'd misjudged her companion. She'd thought this new house servant young because she'd never seen her before.

  If being direct was part of this conversation, Kaaliya knew she could keep pace. She caught up to Firetongue as they descended the far side of the arched bridge.

  "How old are you?"

  "I will tell you," she said, without breaking stride. "If you tell me why you think you can see the difference in these lights while other humans cannot."

  An unexpected question. She'd assumed Chakor left his Ek'kiru servants to these tasks because he'd prioritized his drinking time.

  "None can?"

  Firetongue shook her head using an exaggerated motion. It was the first time she'd bothered to mimic human body language.

  They had walked several more blocks before an answer came to her. More lamps repaired, and the massive timbers of the city gate loomed across the bannered square. Here, she'd given in to Sidge's harmless request for a drink. He'd been so shy and timid, the empty shadow of the recessed gate behind him, framing the last time she thought they'd meet. Such a strange Ek'kiru but she'd met stranger beings.

  "I'm not sure why the lights make sense to me, but I met a troll once who could probably explain," Kaaliya finally said. "Trouble is, trolls aren't known for their conversation skills."

  Firetongue stopped in the center of the square surveying the lamps. Other more natural lights flickered behind opaque shutters of treestone heartwood in the windows of the establishments and homes surrounding the square. Satisfied, the Ek'kiru started back down the boulevard.

  "Tell me the story about this troll then."

  "First, tell me how old you are."

  Firetongue gave one loud clack. "Four hundred and seventy-five of your festivals."

  Not the first time this evening, Kaaliya found herself speechless. She followed in silence, trying to come to grips with everything she'd learned and positive her "dangerous" friend, Sidge, would have been equally surprised.

  CHAPTER III

  Sidge's attempts at channeling unanswered, he began the task of sorting the displaced and water-logged contents of the vardo's cabin. Laying things out to dry and correcting Izhar's failed attempts at organization helped put his mind at ease. As tokens, vessels for energy and medicines, the items were mostly ruined. Even so, each had its proper place.

  The throbbing sensation in his head passed as he lost himself in his work.

  Sidge was floating above the floorboards with an armful of vials when the vardo stopped. He ignored the sudden change and continued buzzing between shelves and chests. Next came a rap at the back and his master's voi
ce called, "Master?"

  It was still odd.

  With a sigh, Sidge dropped to the floor and stared at the white stole lying on the chests. He'd done his best to clean the stains and smooth the wrinkles. He lowered it over his head then drew the curtain aside.

  Izhar crouched in supplication. "At your service, Cloud Born."

  "This feels awkward," Sidge said.

  "Now you understand, eh?" Izhar looked up with a glint in his eye.

  "Yes. Rise, Mas…Acolyte."

  Beaming, Izhar rose and reached out to straighten Sidge's stole. "Looks better on you than it ever did me. I trust you had a good ride?"

  Sidge's antennae quirked, and he straightened the robe himself. "We'll need to have a talk about your organizational skills, acolyte."

  Izhar batted the playful remark away. "Fine. Fine. Let me check on the ferry first."

  Darkness was falling. Sidge could see a cluster of wagons near the Padmini's ford. On the bank, a group of shirtless men hauled an empty barge across the river. A lifetime of effort showed in their sinewy limbs and broad shoulders.

  Izhar waddled toward the crossing, and Sidge followed only far enough to stop beside the Paint. He checked the hitch and the tracings on the wagon and the horse nickered.

  "Miss me?"

  Their journey's newfound raksha had apparently arranged for some repairs and modifications to the vardo. Despite the lord's relationship with Kaaliya and his vaunted yet contentious status among the nobles, Chakor was indeed a man of great wealth. The court Jadugar had spared no expense on re-provisioning their two-man pilgrimage at Izhar's request. He'd even given them what Sidge considered a small fortune to resupply once they reached Abwoon. So much coin and gems, Sidge insisted Izhar carry it, and the sturdy craftsmanship of the modifications had been accomplished on short notice by deft, and likely well-compensated, hands. The hitch now only required one animal. The obstinate Paint had proved more than strong enough for the job.

  "No longer your duty, Sidge," Izhar scolded as he returned.

  Sidge raised four palms and backed away. "Very well. However, the traces are loose. Next time, you might want to tighten them to the swingletree."

  Izhar sputtered, alternating between the hitch and Sidge. "Go do masterly things. They're done ferrying for the day. Gohala was the first and last to cross, just before nightfall, so the Master's camp ought to be more…pleasant." He started to lead the Paint toward the other carriages.

  "Here is fine," said Sidge.

  Izhar eyed him for a moment and nodded, then began to unhitch the horse.

  The barge was being dragged ashore. A bridge had never been constructed because of the Padmini's unruly nature. Floods were common and nighttime crossings considered too risky.

  A fire burned next to the landing and gray figures squatted around it. Laughter rolled among a circle of acolytes. Sidge's antennae perked, and he moved to join them. One of the acolytes, who must have been drawn to the final rays of sunlight catching on Sidge's white stole, fell silent and crouched. A handful followed suit.

  "Oh…um, rise." His antennae fell limp, and he tucked his wings tightly between his shoulders.

  Familiar faces drew upward. A few held the semblance of relaxed camaraderie. Most found other places to focus and Sidge could not choose to do the same. Underneath all of their gazes, however, lurked an uncomfortable distance. His experiences in Stronghold had told him it wasn't just the change in title that made them angry. The temple's bugman had ascended to Cloud Born, something nobody expected.

  "How is everything?" he blurted.

  "Good, Cloud Born, may Vasheru bless your path," Anil replied. Formal and proper, Sidge had always been at ease around the straight-backed acolyte.

  Sidge tried to ignore the eyes turned outside the firelight. The remaining looks were expectant but quiet. He walked closer, and two acolytes scrambled to make room around the fire. Another stood and bowed, then walked away. Then another.

  "Girish. How are the robes holding up?" Sidge ignored the continued outflow of acolytes.

  "I had them re-sewn by a tailor in Stronghold. He noted your work as…adequate, Cloud Born," said Girish.

  Sidge's mind wandered to his sewing kit. He hadn't seen it in his cleanup and hoped it was secure somewhere. Under Girish's glare, he tried to make further small talk. "A tailor arranged for by Cloud Born Udai, as you've said. Did you catch his name?"

  A pause and Girish pointed toward the remaining wagons clustered under a tree. "You could go ask Master Udai yourself." Girish rose and followed his retreating brothers.

  Sidge barely inclined his head to bring the wagons into view where another clutch of gray robes gathered, their white stoles also glowing in the fading light. Surly or no, Girish had a point, but Sidge didn't feel he could face the other Cloud Born just yet.

  "Manoj?" Sidge faced his mandibles to an acolyte on the far side of the fire. "Did you ever get the six hundred and fifty-seventh of the Forge recited?"

  "Not completely, Cloud Born." Manoj's eager eyes widened beyond their normal saucer-like proportions. "Do you wish to hear it?"

  "No." Sidge sighed, and his wings flickered.

  One more acolyte bowed and left the fire. Of the few still seated, all eyes were expectantly on him. He struggled to find anything to say into the silence.

  "I'm not very good at this."

  "What do you mean, Cloud Born?" asked Anil.

  "Exactly that! Being a Master, a Cloud Born." Sidge waved a free hand toward the figures disappearing into the darkness between the two camps. "They know."

  "Oh come on. Girish is just upset because he'll have to do his own sewing," Manoj mumbled.

  Chuckling erupted around the fire, and Sidge's antennae sprang upward.

  "Don't mind them," said Anil. "They'll get used to it, Cloud Born."

  "Like Cloud Born Gohala?" muttered Sidge.

  Manoj looked over his shoulder toward the far camp. He leaned in, his smooth face orange in the firelight, his broadly spaced eyes shining. "The look on Cloud Born Gohala's face when you channeled. I would give my stones to see that again."

  More quiet laughter. Sidge joined in, and he felt his wings relax, his antennae perk.

  "Did you really drive your wagon into the channel?" asked Manoj.

  Word of the miraculous feat had just reached the palace at the tail end of the Deep Night festivities. Sidge sputtered, and Anil silenced Manoj, a look of disapproval on his face. Apparently not everyone believed what they'd heard, and Sidge wasn't sure he minded.

  "Cloud Born Sidge, what do you know of Cloud Born Gohala's new acolyte, Chuman?" asked Anil, trying to change the subject.

  Sidge shrugged. "Very little. He traveled with us for a short while before Cloud Born Gohala laid claim to him. We met him outside Stronghold."

  "He doesn't seem very friendly," said one acolyte.

  "A bit slow. Has he began his training yet?" asked another.

  "Cloud Born Gohala does not share his plans with me," said Sidge. "Though I am not sure what he sees in him."

  Chuman had been a mystery and a distraction. Naked on the side of the road when they met, a strange hum which only Sidge's antennae could detect accompanied his every move. He'd stolen not only Sidge's time, but also Kaaliya's attention with his bizarre ways.

  Kaaliya.

  He wished he'd seen her once more before they left Stronghold.

  "I hear he's quite different," said Anil, the acolyte's statement breaking through memories of combing Kaaliya's hair.

  Different couldn't begin to describe the giant. Chuman's other feats made him more than simply "different". He had manhandled the two-teamed vardo to a stop as they careened wildly into the valley, and absorbed Izhar's call of Vasheru's Wisdom—a bolt from the heavens so bright it had been seen across the countryside.

  "Indeed he is. What have you heard?"

  "A few acolytes saw him at the well," Anil continued. "He was drinking from it like a horse, Cloud Born."

  Si
dge tilted his head, and his antennae reached out. He'd seen the same when he and Izhar ascended the well at the end of their last vision. Chuman had been bent over the lip, but the giant had been gone when they surfaced and time had slipped forward somehow.

  "I heard," replied Sidge, unwilling to share his bizarre tale.

  Manoj added, "Maybe he is an animal? He'd serve Gohala faithfully, perhaps?"

  The other acolytes laughed, their teeth, white like his stole, burned in the firelight. Eyes smiled. He'd always known human eyes could express joy. True feelings, he'd found, could be hidden behind a smile but not from the eyes. His own were expressionless bulbs which watched both the friendly faces and the other acolytes walking away.

  "Surely Cloud Born Gohala has his reasons," said Anil, ignoring the jeering.

  Truer words had not been spoken. Gohala was a demanding Master and required perfection from his pupils. Had he seen anything to give him reason for his sudden interest? Had he witnessed Chuman absorbing the Wisdom? Had the giant of a man performed another feat in his presence? Somehow, Gohala knew more about Chuman than he had been letting on.

  "Next time I see brother Farsal, I'll ask him. He'll know," Sidge said to himself more than his audience.

  His antennae wagged happily at the thought of his childhood friend. Even though Farsal was Gohala's most senior acolyte, they'd remained close. He hadn't seen much of him at the feast. Given Gohala's sour attitude, they'd been forced to keep their distance.

  "Say, Sidge," said Manoj. "I heard a rumor about the Stormblade which neither Masters Udai nor Tarak will confirm."

  It didn't surprise him the acolytes hadn't been told about the Stormblade's own vision. Whatever the ancient priest had seen had indicated the seat of leadership would be empty when the pilgrims returned. As elders, Gohala, Udai, Tarak, and Izhar had all been told this though only Gohala had shared it with his acolytes.

  The circle around the fire tightened, and he was unsure how to address the question. Either the other Cloud Born didn't know of the vision, or they'd decided not to tell their pupils. If that was the case, it wasn't his place to do so. He was saved by a call from outside the firelight.