“You’re what!?” l blurted, unable to keep her surprise in check.
“Ha…” Alia shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not really a big deal, it—”
“Not a big deal!?” With so effort, l widened her already wide eyes further. “What do you an, ‘It’s not a big deal?’” She gestured to the speaker and the broadsheet held high, its headline brazen and bold, like a second Red Moon. “That looks like a big deal to ! When did you beco a saint—” l found herself cut off as Alia cupped her hands over her mouth.
“Ssh!” Alia hushed, glancing around. “Co on, let’s walk and talk.” Alia grabbed l by the wrist, and they began circling the space. “As I said,” Alia continued, keeping her voice low. “It’s not really a big deal. After what happened in the slums, I realised I wanted to keep helping people. It feels a bit strange to have so much capacity to do good and not use it, right?” Alia paused and looked at l, her eyes shimring as if looking for affirmation.
“...Right,” l replied.
“Mmm.” Alia nodded, seemingly satisfied. “The slums were bad, l. Really bad. I couldn’t ignore it, but after the event I understood how if I coordinated with the authorities, I could have minimised the amount of…” Alia trailed off, wobbling her hand as she sought the right word.
“Chaos?” l offered.
Alia laughed. “I guess. You see, they made an offer that aligned with my goals.” Alia’s voice dropped further, and she fell in close to l, whispering, “If I beca a saint of the Demon Church, it would give access to the Church’s resources and their organisational capabilities. It also helped my goal of seeing humans and demons resolve their differences. After all, if you’re a demon and the religion you follow has a human saint running about healing your friends and family, you can’t get too mad at all humans, can you?”
“...I guess not.”
“Mmm!” Alia humd, her expression brightening. The speaker at the centre of the square had finished his spiel, and the crowd had begun to thin as everyone returned to their daily tasks. “It suited the Empire as well, from what I understand.”
“But don’t you have responsibilities? Obligations?” l asked. As far as she knew, a saint was soone who dedicated their life to the Church. As significant and influential as Alia’s sainthood may be, surely they wouldn’t want her travelling around the world taking part in whatever Captain Halen’s duties were? l cast a look at Alia to see her friend shaking her head.
“Not really,” Alia said. “I made sure to maintain my freedom.” Alia’s eyes glinted mischievously. She cast l a sly smile, saying, “It only took a small threat.”
“A… A threat?”
“Mmm! There was this funny old cardinal and I—”
“You threatened a cardinal?” l interrupted, doing her best to keep her voice low.
“And Greatord Oshiro!” Alia chirped.
l’s blood ran cold.
“Relax,” Alia continued, waving a hand as if she’d just reported on the current weather. “I just told them I would withdraw from my Cascadian prospectorship. You should have seen their faces… They went as white as you are right now!” Alia giggled and said, “They think I don’t understand how important I am to the Empire, but I do.” She punctuated her sentence with a wink.
“...I have a headache,” l mumbled, reaching up and rubbing her forehead.
“Oh, we can get in now,” Alia said, pointing at the plinth with bronze statues on top. “Let’s take a look.”
l, not knowing what to think, obediently followed Alia, snaking their way between people and reaching the plinth. A large brass plaque bore script in several desert languages, while Imperial ca last, situated at the bottom. Thankful for the distraction, l bent down to read it.
“So the shrouded woman isn’t the Empress,” she murmured, casting a glance at Alia.
Her friend was still reading, her mouth moving slightly as she silently sounded out the words. l blinked, thinking back to Officer Bright’s theories and her spotting Alia carrying a workbook for reading and writing. Could it be true that Alia had acquired her native-sounding grasp of Imperial from a blessing and had to catch up with the rest?
As quickly as the thought ca to mind, l pushed it away. She’d just asked one question of her friend and had been almost blown away by the response. Only the Empress knew what insane event Alia would casually reveal if l asked another.
As the saying went, it was better to let sleeping shawas lie.
“The one at the top is Mura,” Alia said, looking up at the elegantly dressed woman with a confident expression. “The Greatspider of the Urda religion. I guess this is her… personification, then? Under her, from left to right, are so of her children, the other animal gods…” Alia pointed to the first statue, saying, “This is Bain, the beetle god, and then it’s Falin, the ant god. The noble-looking one is Rhaknam’s personification. Then…” Alia’s pointed finger ca to rest on the centre figure, a benevolent-looking woman with curved horns.
Seeing the figure up close, l didn’t need to wait for Alia or consult the plaque to know who this represented. While her horns would change depending on where they were in the Empire, her face was always similar. Standing before l in shining bronze was one of the Southern forms of the Empress, displayed here as a child of Mura.
“Elana, Lord of the Desert,” Alia read out. “And look what she’s standing on…” At the statue's feet was the curled-up corpse of what l first thought was a snake. Looking closer, she saw it had hundreds of legs, giving it a rather uncomfortable resemblance to a millipede. This creature had its own small plaque, as if the creators of the statues didn’t want to insult Mura and her children by forcing them to have their nas together.
“It’s Amlaq,” l said, reading the plaque. “A Titanlord of the Enemy, who ruled the Southern territories during the Long Discordancy.” She turned her gaze to the unpleasant bronze corpse. “I rember learning this; the Empress slayed Amlaq during one of the crusades, but”—l looked at the bronze Empress—“It’s strange to see her represented like this…”
It was more than strange; it was unnatural to see their demigod ruler positioned beneath Mura. l understood that in the vastness of the Cascadian Empire, there were many different ways of worshipping the Empress, but that Empress was a demigod—a Shard of Infinity. It felt heretical to place her under so mythical greatspider sourced from desert superstitions. Even l’s ho religion of Quinto positioned the Empress as the greatest of all Kami.
“And then, continuing onwards.” Alia’s pointed finger moved to the remainder of Mura’s children. “The man there is Serat, the scorpion god; next to him is Kethra, she’s the carrion goddess. Finally, the sneaky-looking one at the end there is Orun, the viper god.” Alia nodded to herself before turning to look at l. “It’s rather interesting, isn’t it? It’s so different to the East! What do you think?”
“I think…” l cast her eyes about, rembering the captain’s instructions not to cause any friction with the locals. “It’s innovative.” For so reason, Alia laughed at her words.
“I guess it is, isn’t it? Co on, let’s look for shops,” Alia said cheerfully, darting off in one direction. They passed a broadsheet seller. While Alia continued onwards, humming to herself, seemingly not bothered by her na boldly written in the headline, l slowed down, unable to stop herself from reading further.
She’d just read up to the part where Greatlord Oshiro had given a statent to the dia regarding the healing event’s apparent chaotic finale when Alia popped into her vision and asked, “Want to buy you a copy?”
“No, sorry,” l said, shaking her head. “Let’s go.” Pulling her gaze from the broadsheet, they continued onward and exited the plaza. Imdiately, they found themselves back in the throng of aggressive in-your-face rchants and rivers of bodies flowing this way and that. Alia continued to demonstrate a remarkable aptitude at engaging with a stallowner or shopkeeper, trying their wares, and then nipping away with enthusiastic promises to return in the future before they could trap them any further.
Alia’s disguise of Cerulean horns—small and stubby—may have looked out of place against the native Arakian horns—larger and curled—but Alia herself seed right at ho. If she’d been wearing the local loose-fitting clothing, l would have thought that she’d emigrated to the South years ago. That was how naturally she seed to blend in with the fast-paced frenzy of the Ishaqian markets.
After brazenly haggling with a stallowner over what the man described as the finest peeka treats this side of the Shattered Isles, Alia purchased a bag of snacks for Romulus and a small container of sothing called peekaleaf. Apparently, it was sothing that made peekas go crazy.
“Imagine if I hid so of this in Serena’s inner pocket,” Alia said with a grin, shaking the container. “Romulus will be crawling all over her!”
“Please tell you’re joking.”
“Yes, yes,” Alia said, pocketing the peekaleaf and treats. “I would never play around like that. I’m completely and utterly—oh!” Alia’s eyes widened, and she wrinkled her nose. “This place slls amazing!” Without another word, l was pulled into a nearby shop full of balms, lotions, and bathing accessories.
Alia wasted no ti in looking around the shop, opening containers and bottles of fragrant liquids and creams. There were even scented soaps which reminded l of the Kenhoro markets. It didn’t take long before she found herself inclined to purchase one or two.
“That’s a bold choice,” the shopkeeper mused, a middle-aged demon in a lightly coloured dress with silver hornbands. She wore a transparent shawl on her head, keeping in line with what l had seen of Ishaqian tradition so far. “That massage oil contains fragrance synthesised from desert fruits. It’s said to excite n, if that’s what you’re looking for. Although…” The woman leaned across the counter, placing her chin on her hands while a playful smile ford on her face. “I doubt two exotic ladies like yourself will have trouble exciting the n down here.”
“Exotic?” Alia asked, smiling widely as she gestured to l and herself. “Us?”
“To Ishaqian n, you’re exotic,” the woman replied. “It goes both ways.”
Alia held up the bottle, shaking it lightly. “Do you sell anything similar, but, uh”—Alia flashed a look at l—“one that excites, you know, won?” Finishing her question, Alia gave an almost nervous giggle.
“Oh?” The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow. “If you want to be on the receiving end of your man’s massage, then…” the demon trailed off, stepping from her counter and plucking a bottle from a shelf. “Try this one. It can feel a little intoxicating, so don’t breathe too deeply. It works well on human won, too, so I’m told.”
Alia leaned in, her nose twitching as she inhaled the fragrance. “It’s perfect,” she said with a grin. Casting another quick look at l, she purchased the bottle, quickly stowing it away on her person.
“And for you, my anisa?” The shopkeeper's query broke l from her stupor.
“Just… just these,” she said, placing the scented soaps on the counter.
Surely she’s not going to… l thought, doing her very best to try and keep her cheeks from warming up. Surely that wasn’t for the captain… right? It was too bold, too outrageously bold! How was l supposed to keep her calm now? Should she bring it up with Alia? Ask about it? No, how in the Seven Hells could she even begin to formulate—
“Hey, I’m looking for a special kind of wire,” Alia said, chatting with the shopkeeper. After describing what she was looking for and getting directions to a shop that was, more likely than not, run by a relative of the woman, l hurried outside. Through the crowds they went, dodging, dipping and, in so cases, practically diving out of the way of the pushiest of rchants. l only just managed to ntally recover by the ti they reached their destination, where they bumped into soone else from the Vengeance’s crew.
“Hello!” Alia chirped, almost skipping into the aetherscope shop. While her cheerful greeting earned a grumble from the grizzled, grease-stained owner, her word was directed at the other person browsing the shelves. The individual turned, her eyebrows raising slightly before collecting herself.
“Afternoon, Miss Liona,” replied the chief engineer’s niece, Evelyn.
l had only seen Evelyn a few tis, mostly in the ss hall on the ship. The demon had been promoted to warrant officer only recently and was now charged with leading one of the engineer teams. Her quarters were supposed to be in the sa section of the ship as l’s, but from what she heard, Evelyn practically slept in the engine room.
Now she thought about it, this was the first ti l had seen the engineer in anything other than work overalls. It looked like she’d even put in a bit of effort to be more presentable today; her normally dirty face had been wiped down, and her curly hair had been sowhat tad by what must have been a trendously aggressive brushing session.
She was quite pretty, actually.
“Afternoon! What are you here for?” Alia asked.
“Reflection plates,” Evelyn responded, holding up a curved piece of tal, a little bigger than her palm. “Many of ours got knocked out of alignnt in the Passage, and a few were dented. Looking for replacents, although…” The engineer rotated the plate so it lay almost horizontal with her eyes. “These have an uneven curve.”
“Hrmph!” the old man behind the counter grumbled. “Uneven, my horns! I check every plate myself! Let look at that!” Without waiting for Evelyn’s response, he reached out and snatched the tal from her. After examining it for a mont, he mumbled sothing incomprehensible about picky custors before grasping the plate with two rough, gnarled hands and began massaging the tal. After a minute of this, he checked it once more and handed it back to Evelyn. “There you go. Perfectly curved for an eight-foot ’scope. I don’t want to hear any more complaints from you, now, miss.”
Evelyn examined the plates and, after nodding to herself, asked the shopkeeper, “Where do you source your alloy from? Even if the curvature is correct, uneven distribution of the crystal will produce a shoddy resolution.”
The man scoffed. “You’re four decades too late to be lecturing about homogeneous crystal solutions, young lady. We use red in our alloy, of course. Sourced from just outside Treki and verified through independent testing.” He reached down and produced a stack of papers. Thumbing through them, he handed one to Evelyn. “Take a look yourself. We don’t take in bad material here. We know how vital a working aetherscope is to Passage travel.”
“Mmm,” Evelyn humd while reading the docunts. “You don’t use white?”
“Down here?” The shopkeeper laughed. “Christdom crystal hasn’t flowed to Ishaq in years. But you’ll find my plates have all the stability you need. We finely grind the red before giving it a rcury bath. It’ll do the job, you have my word on that.”
Evelyn asked a few further questions, probing the man about his ferro-crystal processes. Perhaps l was imagining it, but she thought the grumpy old shopkeeper was becoming friendlier with every question. It was as if Evelyn were earning his respect in real ti. l watched as she laid the plate down and sprinkled so ground crystal onto its curved surface. She then produced a tuning fork, and, striking it hard against the plate, held it close to the surface while the crystal danced and bounced.
Whatever she was looking for, Evelyn seed satisfied as she proceeded to purchase more than two dozen reflection plates and a few other miscellaneous pieces. Once she’d finished her business and the man began thodically counting his coins, Alia popped up to the counter carrying a bundle of white wires.
“Just these,” Alia said, already pulling out a coin purse and counting out the amount. Looking at the coins Alia was placing onto the counter, whatever the wires were, they were significantly more expensive than Evelyn’s plates. Even Evelyn herself looked at the wire with an inquisitive expression.
“My uncle said you were making sothing,” Evelyn said. “But I can’t imagine why you would need so much luncable. What is it for?”
“Well…” Alia began as the shopkeeper counted the coins, “I had an idea after reading a bit about crystalcraft. You know how the Tilburg cut is the standard cut for aetherlights, right?” As Evelyn nodded, Alia continued, “And there’s the Tilburg-chain cut, which responds to aetherlight, prompting one crystal to turn on another, and then another, and so on, down the chain.”
At her words, even l found herself nodding along. It was a simple application of crystal craft used in most buildings and ships. It allowed an entire section of aetherlights to be controlled by a single crystal. The only downside was the luncable needed to carry the light to and through each aetherlight that needed to be controlled.
“And then I realised there were variations of the cut that ant the rotation would fully engage and stay on until the light levels drop beyond a certain amount. That is”—Alia began speaking quickly, caught in her sudden enthusiasm—“to say that with the right cuts you can have a chain of lights with distinct on and off positions, and the luncable can carry that on or off signal to other aetherlights!”
Alia finished speaking triumphantly, but whatever conclusion she felt the others should derive from her information seed to have slipped through everyone’s horns. Alia saw this and further explained, “What if, instead of seeing these aetherlights as being on or off we see them as representing one or zero? What then?” Alia chuckled while shaking her head. “Don’t worry, when you see what I’m making, it’ll blow your minds!”
“It’ll what our minds?” Evelyn asked, frowning as she folded her arms. “I don’t understand.”
“Karligard expression!” Alia replied, flashing them a thumbs-up. “I’ll tell you more later, okay?”
“...Sure,” Evelyn replied, giving the old demon behind the counter a look, prompting him to simply shrug in response and mutter sothing about ‘foreigners’.
“I’ll see you around,” Alia said, skipping to the door. “Tell Allston to take breaks, the captain gets worried about him!” Without waiting for an answer, she vanished from the doorway only to return a mont later and chirp, “By the way, your hair looks really pretty! Bye!” before slipping away like a sardis.
Evelyn’s expression changed into one of shock. She raised a hand slowly, touching her own hair and mumbling, “My hair’s pretty?” She frowned before catching l looking at her. The engineer snapped her hand down and muttered sothing about needing to get back to the ship.
“I’ll, uh, see you around,” l said, not missing the slight reddening of Evelyn’s cheeks. Not wanting to simr in the Alia-induced awkward atmosphere any longer, l left the shop and caught up to her friend.
“I, quite literally,” l began, giving Alia a look, “don’t have the faintest idea how any interaction between you and anyone else is going to go. I can’t believe you haven’t given the captain a heart attack by now.”
“What?” Alia’s face beca the perfect imitation of innocence. “I could never! Although you should have seen the dinners I’ve had with her family. Once, Greatlord Oshiro and his wife were there and I—”
“Please,” l interrupted, raising a hand. “Have rcy.”
“Request granted and rcy given,” Alia replied with a wink. “Let’s keep going!”
Sending a quick prayer to the Empress, or perhaps even to Mura the greatspider. In fact, l just sent a prayer to anyone who might be listening before following Alia as she darted down another street full of colour and splendour. This street had no lack of stalls lining the sides, but they weren’t stalls of goods and wares. Instead, each stall was used as an impromptu workshop as people crowded them, all contributing to build a colourful construction around wooden fras.
They were kites, in the shape of animals, the most common one being an arcwhale. Adults were making professional-looking ones, skilfully weaving and tying colourful thread and cloth. Children helped too, with wide grins as they did their best to make their own. She even saw so of the larger ones being filled with paper-wrapped sweets, which she found strange.
Any confusion l might have had was cleared up by Alia darting forward and asking a few questions. It turned out that, in the wake of the arcwhale stranding, the citizens of Ishaq had co together and were determined to spare no expense in making the upcoming arcwhale festival the grandest one the South had ever seen. The sweet-filled arcwhales were sothing the locals referred to as a piñata, where the kids would soon have to swing sticks and bats to break it open and get to the confectionery inside.
Alia’s naturally engaging and cheerful attitude rewarded her with a few small bags of sweets, which she shared with l. With her mouth full of sugary citrus, l rounded a corner and was greeted by the largest building she’d seen so far in Ishaq.
“Now that’s what I was looking for,” Alia said proudly, standing with her hands on her hips. “That’s what I call an arena!”
And an arena it was. If the decorated layers of archways in the oval-shaped construction didn’t give it away, the large Imperial lettering reading ARENA did the job. People ca and went, with an official-looking human in discussion with a pair of demons in what l first thought were performing costus, but upon closer inspection realised were elaborately decorated functional leather armour. The fighters even had their faces painted with swirling, dark shapes that contrasted with their armour.
“You weren’t…” l swallowed. “Thinking of fighting, were you?”
Alia giggled, spinning around to look at her. “Not . Hinako, rember? I’m sponsoring her career! Part of being a good sponsor is getting her fights, right? Now I’m still in disguise, but I can pretend I’m representing House Thornheart, can’t I?” As she spoke, Alia frowned and placed a finger on her chin. “No, that might be risky. I know!” Snapping her fingers, Alia nodded confidently. “I’ll just bribe them!”
I feel another headache coming along, l thought.
l was then dragged towards the arena. Thankfully, Alia—who had a history of threatening cardinals and greatlords and did sothing at a dinner once that l very much didn’t want to have knowledge of—decided to wait until the official was alone. While they simred in the shallowness of Alia’s common sense, their attention was drawn to a large bronze statue near the arena’s entrance.
“I thought it would be a famous fighter, but it’s not,” l said, bending down to read the plaque. “Here marks the spot where the Ishaqian Civil War ended in 580 A.V. His Majesty Oziren the Second surrendered to Loyalist forces, and the Republican Council of Ishaq was ford.” Reading further, the plaque told the story of how a single unnad fighter stood up against what was described as royalist tyranny. It told the tale of how this one individual sparked and won a war to change Ishaq forever.
“Amazing,” l murmured, looking up at the bronze statue that depicted a strong-looking but otherwise ordinary man. “How such change can happen when one man decides that enough is enough. Don’t you think, Alia?” She turned her head only to find that Alia wasn’t there, and was instead practically enveloping the poor official in a manner surprisingly reminiscent of how the pushy Isaqian rchants acted.
Sighing, l stood up and approached the pair. Arriving just in ti to catch Alia spouting off sothing that was sohow a complint, threat, and bribe all at the sa ti, l found herself wondering if she was ntally prepared to handle the rest of the day with Alia. Was this what Captain Halen had to deal with? If so…
I have a long way to go, l thought.
It was early afternoon. Surely, in the few hours Alia had indicated she planned to explore Ishaq, nothing too crazy would happen.
After all, how much chaos could a saint create?
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