Jarmin was a little child and children of his age are special to Kuldaganians: they are the only people allowed to swim in city fountains. It doesnt even matter whether they are freaks that broke the Ancestors purity taboo or foreigners that look even more alien. They are kids and childhood is holy. So Jarmin spent the day in Aldaren Turins fountain, his flaxen hair looking funny among the bald heads of the descendants of Rami and Otiz, neither of which had hair on their body, brows and eyelashes excluded.
Local dlars walls were thick enough to keep the rooms cool even in the fiercest heat of the day and warm even in the fiercest cold the night, so everyone enjoyed the best rest possible. Speaking of walls: only Aldaren-Turins city wall was made of monolith; all the walls inside were plain aren concrete. The descendants of Rami and Otiz were no different from other Kuldaganian citizens in that matter.
Monolith interested Pai greatly. He wouldnt shut up about the Wanderers magic that they used to manipulate the aspects of aren, the magic that worked in the unstable zone somehow without exploding. He tried to ask around, hoping to learn more, but had no luck. Definitely, a Kuldaganian city was no place to learn the Wanderers ways.
Pai found some consolation after the caravan had left Aldaren-Turin, though, for they now followed an ancient road paved with rune-inscribed stones enchanted to keep the sands away. Since they had stepped on that road, Pai did little but staring at those runes, absolutely fascinated by them.
For the rest of the team, the journey was as mirthless as before. Thankfully (most likely due to Irins constant vigil and excellent marksmanship) no bandits bothered the caravan. At some point, Ramayana Arnika-Vadro approached Irin and asked him to stay and work for her. He refused but did that so loudly and hastily that there were no doubts about how much he actually wanted to accept the offer.
When the lights of Border came into view, it was early evening with only a few stars in the sky. The collective light of the citys oil lanterns and firefly jars made it look like a gate to the dark unknown beyond. A gate to the No Mans Land.
Milian felt his heart sink at the sight. The image was more that it seemed. It felt like approaching a point of no return, an unseen border beyond which nothing would ever be the same. The boy could not explain the dread it was giving him and had no words to express the feeling; but the others must have felt something similar for they were all grim despite the comforts and curiosities the city could offer.
The team left the city the next morning on the backs of ten chargas that stepped so softly on the firm ground that replaced the shifty Kuldaganian sand beyond the border.
Chapter 9. Road to Tammar
Having killed a master, kill their apprentice as well, even if the apprentice is just a little child, for children grow, children learn, and children can hold a grudge. The child youve spared will become a warrior or a mage and come after you to avenge the master. Think of the future, always.
Assassins Handbook, part three
No Mans Land. The territory of anomalies where each anomaly has a heart that defines its centre and a circular border. Sometimes those borders cross, making the anomalous effects cancel or enhance each other but, more often, they barely touch.
Imagine a cook using a round biscuit-cutter on a thinly rolled layer of dough. Once the future biscuits have been all cut out of the layer, small, oddly shaped pieces of dough remain. This is what so-called interstitions of the No Mans Land look like, the territories between the neighbouring regions which dont have overlapping borders. While still wild and unstable, the magic of interstitions is not explosive. Also, it is uniform, without any quirks an anomaly can produce.
Most interstitions are tiny, mere islands of peace surrounded by several anomalies, but some are long enough to be turned into trading routes. Brevir interstition is one of them. It looks like a trunk of a twisted tree on the map with all its tributaries and turns. Every tributary has a road of its own. Every road is a pulsing artery moving goods and people between the No Mans Land settlements. While youre following Brevir, youre perfectly safe. There are villages and cities clinging to the road with lots of inns and markets; there are other traders to travel with. But once youve left Brevir, youre on your own and the further you go, the more dangerous your journey becomes.
Chargas step softly. As graceful as cats, as powerful as bears, and as intelligent as human children, they are the best companions when it comes to travelling through dangerous lands. A grown-up man on a chargas back looks like a fragile kid. And a kid riding a charga is the cutest thing ever.
Marin had just noticed one from afar.
His curiosity stirred, he opened a box of spyglasses he was going to sell in one of the big cities and grabbed one. Yes. The tiny figure on a young charga almost a kitten was a child. Some of his companions were children as well.
Children travelling through the No Mans Land? That was worth investigating!
Marin expected no danger from the curious group. Firstly, his caravan was still on Brevir, which is safe, and secondly, the kids on the chargas were obviously Lifekeepers, members of a closed order with ancient traditions of peace and mercy. There was nothing to fear from meeting them.
The team on the chargas moved faster than Marins cart caravan, so the Lifekeepers caught up with it soon. The caravans taranders elklike beasts of burden were the only ones unhappy with that: taranders are afraid of chargas, their natural predators in the wild. As to the caravans people, everyone welcomed the young travellers.
Safe journey to you! Marin greeted them when the team reached his cart. Where are you heading?
To Tammar, answered their leader, a young man that looked like a pureblood Faizul.
Oh! exclaimed the merchant. Its dangerous to leave Brevir here. I wouldnt do that, especially if I had children with me. Some gang might consider you easy prey Would you like to join us instead? Were going to Gurron. From there, its only a days journey to Tammar, on a safe road.
Thank you, the Faizul nodded, so very politely, but we are in a hurry. And we are not easy prey. Safe journey to you!
The Lifekeepers passed Marins caravan and disappeared from view after taking the next turn on the road. Marins eyes followed them as they walked away. A flaxen-haired child riding a charga kitten was the last in their procession. The boy must have been about six years old but he wore a full Lifekeeper attire, complete with a real sword.
Seeing him had nearly made Marin tear up. No, Jarmin did nothing special; he was busy playing the wooden flute Orion had made for him and listening to Orion singing to the tune. But he reminded Marin of something, something precious, something lost forever
For a moment, the merchant wanted nothing else but to abandon his caravan and join the Lifekeeper boys. The emotion was so sudden and strong that he felt drowning for a moment and gasped for air.
Marin! Are you okay? he heard his friend, Hasse, ask. Hasse had sped up his tarander to catch up with Marins cart and now was looking Marin in the eyes, worried.
That boy the merchant muttered and shook his head. His little sword is just like mine
You have a sword? Hasse raised his brows, surprised. He had never seen his friend wield a weapon.
Marin reached for his travelling chest where he kept his personal belongings and rummaged in it for a while. The object he was searching for turned out to be at the very bottom: a bundle of rags and papers with something long inside it. Marin unwrapped the thing and handed it to Hasse.
Is it a toy? the warrior asked with a smile.
No. Unsheath it and see for yourself, said Marin reproachfully. Its a katana made for a child. See? The hilt is thin enough so a small hand can grasp it.
No handguard, noticed Hasse.
I used to be a Lifekeeper. A long time ago. Marins voice was deeply sad.
Was? What happened?
Ah, my dear Hasse Marin laughed mirthlessly and put his old sword back into the chest. Bad luck happened. I was six when a group of assassins ambushed my master and me. My master died. I survived, thanks to Urhan, but remained a cripple for life.
I had no idea Hasse shook his head. I thought you were Urhans son.
I am. Urhan saved my life, nursed me back to health, adopted me, taught me his trade he is the only father Ive ever known.
Yes, yes, of course. Its not what I meant, Hasse apologised. I just thought I knew you, old friend.
I, too, thought I knew myself. I thought I had buried my past for good. But those boys made me remember. Not that it matters now. Even if I werent a cripple, I wouldnt be able to avenge my master. I have no idea who was after him. I was too young to be trusted with any secrets. So so it just hurts.
They rode in silence for a while. The sides of the road, overgrown with young willows being played with by the wind, were a mass of restless green and dancing sunlight patches. Marin kept looking at the turn the young Lifekeepers had taken. He still couldnt let it go.
What was your masters name? asked Hasse.
Gerdon Lorian. Marin smiled and turned to his friend. He died on that very road those boys chose. This is why I never go directly to Tammar. Too many memories.
***
The road to Tammar is overshadowed by a massive natural wall striped with multicoloured layers of shale and limestone that make it look like a giant piece of cake, the cake being a steep hill that had been cut through to make space for the road. Only its western half survived to this day. Covered with silky grass and dotted with bright ramniru flowers, it was still a sight to see. Travellers following the road in summer always found a free meal ready, for ramniru flowers are as sweet as raspberries.
Across the road from the striped wall, there was a young birch grove growing on the ashes of a forest where Gerdon Lorian had been ambushed. The young Lifekeepers were riding through one of their Orders important historic sites but they were completely unaware of that. To them, it was just a place that looked unsafe for many reasons.
Orion set his charga to a run and quickly caught up with Juel.
Do you think well be attacked? he asked.
No. Juel shook his head. As I told that merchant, were not easy prey. Even if you dont count children, we have three adult warriors and ten chargas. Attacking us would be too costly for any gang and we carry nothing valuable enough to cover the costs. I say were safe.
Heh Orion looked around, nervous. I dont like this place. There is something dodgy about it. I cant explain it, I just feel it with my gut I suggest we speed up, maybe tell the chargas to run all the way to Tammar.
Surprisingly, Juel agreed. He might have had a similar feeling about the place or just wanted to shorten the journey. Anyway, he commanded the team to speed up a little. Orion thanked him and returned to his place, in the tail of their caravan, next to Jarmin.
I told Juel about your forebodings, said Orion to the boy. I had to tell him they were mine, though, so he would listen.
Dont you feel anything? exclaimed Jarmin, anger and disappointment ringing in his thin voice.
Orion shook his head. Seeing reproach in Orions eyes, Jarmin sighed, his shoulders drooped. He leaned against his chargas furry neck and scratched the big kitten behind the ears. Orion left the child to his brooding, thinking that little Jarmin needed to grow up a bit. Learning that other people are not obliged to feel what he feels and think what he thinks might be the first step on this way.
Pai had been in a gloomy mood since the morning, so Milian had no one to chat with that day. He rode beside his mage friend in thoughtful silence and killed time by daydreaming, recalling the Kuldaganian book he had bought in Aldaren-Turin, and looking around. He had a good memory but, still, comparing the copy of the No Mans Land map he had in his mind with the landscape they were slowly moving through was not as easy as he thought it would be: the world was just so big!
According to Sainar, they were to look for the obsidian somewhere close to Tammar, in the woods on the border of the Burnt Region. According to the map, they had a thin, winding road in front of them and zero chance of reaching the city before dark. Camping was unavoidable. Its not that Milian hated camping he had got used to it, actually but, unlike Bala and Juel who had been travelling a lot with their masters, he still preferred a bed to a bedroll, a fireplace to a bonfire, and a house with walls and roofs to a flimsy tent. The only thing about their current journey that Milian liked was chargas. The idea of using one as a pillow at night seemed both cute and hilarious, the chargas ability to protect their riders was reassuring
Kangassk Marini, Milians master, used to berate her apprentices lack of focus quite often. Shed do that now as well, no doubt, for her boy was the last to hear the alarming sounds from the other side of the hill.
Sounds like a swordfight! said Bala; he was the first to notice them.
Yeah, it is, confirmed Juel. Lots of swords are involved, too
Orion moved to the head of the caravan and squinted his eyes, listening. Jarmins foreboding turned out to be true, after all: there were bandits nearby all right. Maybe they even watched the team from the hilltop. Only they werent after the Lifekeepers; they choose a different prey
A reckless, fiery feeling filled Orions heart to the brim. ph, Lar would be so angry with him if he knew.
Ill help them! said Orion Jovib in a tone that allowed no arguments, and ordered his charga to run.
Get back, you fool! yelled Juel but Orion didnt listen; his figure grew smaller and smaller with every passing moment.
Juel uttered the foulest Faizulish curse he knew, spat to the ground, and turned to the team, Irin, Bala, follow me! Lainuver, stay with the kids!
Far away, in clouds of dust raised from the road by dozens of feet, under the crowns of slender birches, amidst the lazy symphony of distant bird singing, a battle was raging. It could be barely seen from where the younger part of the Lifekeeper team stood. The kids tried to distinguish their elder teammates in the dusty crowd but that was easier said than done.
Lainuver, the only adult among the frightened children, seemed so tall and so serious now. He did his best to look confident, too, even though he didnt feel even remotely like that. To him, a shadow master, forests were alien territory full of unknown dangers he was not trained to handle.
He felt even worse when he glimpsed dark silhouettes moving among the trees. The creatures ran on all fours but didnt resemble dogs of wolves. Soon, everyone saw why. As the first creature jumped out of the undergrowth and met Lainuvers blade, their nature and origin became as clear as day. The animals were tamed shlaks ugly, massive brutes that looked like a weird mix between a wild boar and a dog. Armed with sabre-teeth instead of tusks, heavy in their front part of the body, they flew forward like bricks. The shlaks masters followed their animals soon. They looked relaxed, even careless, so sure they were in their victory. For real: who were they to be afraid of? Chargas? Shlaks would deal with them. Kids? Pfft! Theyre good enough warriors to deal with kids. Arent they?