Chapter 4

In yet another city, she didn’t care about their names, Yaro reluctantly bought from a merchant. The stingy humi wanted five fuur for one strip for ghrepul jerky, a scam of a price. The tasteless meat stick should be worth one fuur, maybe two at most. Yaro handed the small ball of alight fire over to the man with her ethereal hand and asked casually about a farseer in the city. The humi shrugged, and grunted in a direction as she took her jerky. Yaro left without the pleasantries typically afforded to parting.

No longer leaving behind a trail of blood, Yaro couldn't help but worry that her disguise had some sort of flaw in it. Her horns have always been the most difficult part to hide. She’d thought about having them sanded down before, but they make great lances in a pinch. And, they actually add to a disguise, not take away, being a stylish decoration of a passed loved drake one. This felt odd to her and others, but held unspokenly accepted mostly for mourning, as long as they weren't seen as some trophy her ancestors gained during the war; this had happened only once and led to her first time in jail. The difficult part was making them look like they were attached to, and not sprouting forth from, the old silky dark-green cloak.

Oh, and the cloak, she made a huge mistake getting a feathered one. It did have ties on the inside, but the drag of feathers in the wind taunted her with the threat of blowing everything open with a particularly strong gust. If only everything I did wasn’t so stupid, if only I could do anything intelligent and not make my newer cloak filthy beyond repair. It would be better to have this than nothing. It’s all about expectations for dress in public.

Yaro stumbled over a loose stone; these streets of Yon were out to kill her. Boots were foreign to her feet, or at least that’s what she called the approximations she had wrapped around her feet. Footprints in the dirt had to be masked by a wooden palate wrapped to her leg with cloth -she had to wrap her tail to a leg with cloth as well. She did miss traveling with Ellis along the streets to heavily trafficked to leave footprints in. 

The backup mask, ivory and empty, she forgot how hot it got wearing it too long. An opaque veil was much more comfortable. Another thing she was able to wear with Ellis.

The whole getup kept people away with expectations that she lead her life following the Dreulbe faith. No one would ask her to remove her mask. No one would think it’s odd that she was clothed head to toe. And somehow, this lie of faith, it felt normal. 

It all felt so easy to fall back into.

The sign “Fortune’s Fate” rocked in the wind. Tacky with a space motif and striking colors, this must be the place. Inside, cleaning products replaced the stench of the city. The waiting room was dim, surely to hide the imperfections they could not afford to fix. The air was sterile with a faint smell of incense, the kind used for relaxation. Yaro hoped they weren’t enchanted to enhance the effect. It all did not bode well for the proficiency of the owner. Still, she needed information, any at all, even if they gave a simple, ‘he’s alive’.

Two occupants rested in the waiting area, one humi and one alsow. They sat separate with a two cushion distance. Yaro sighed, she would have rather the place have been empty. Instinctively, she studied both occupants, taking in their appearance and mannerisms. The humi, a bi-pedal ape that was more on the heavy side sat relaxed and full of either themselves or food. They wore ostentatious clothes, a shirt of bright lapis and a necklace of gold that shown brighter against the colorless-ness of their skin. Yaro had skin like that, a lack of pigmentation that ranged from black to grey to white on humi; the occupant's skin was grey to Yaro’s white. Yaro was fortunate enough to have pigmented eyes, emeralds where a humi’s would be onyx, their hair shades of black. A humi, to her, seemed like a charcoal drawing in the world, offset pigmentation from tattoos or, in the case of this reveler, colorful garments with gold bangles, a blue silky skirt, and armwraps streaked with green.

The Alsow, on the other hand, had only utilitarian garments. The bioluminescent spirit-green deer sported boots on the end of their spindly limbs, glasses, and a necklace with a holder, that was it. Nothing on its antlers as she saw so many do, nothing to hang from the wavy fur, just the essentials. They were the two ends of kexist culture, the one end where the extreme wealth of the nation provided luxury and the other where anyone from anywhere in the world, no matter their background, could come and be welcomed. Yaro, though born in the western nation of Kexist, Ivaonoi, found she preferred the utilitarian side of the coin. Self-expression was not necessary.

She knelt on the cushion closest to the door and waited for Ku Fortune's Fate to return. Her shin ached slightly, but she had done a well enough job setting the bones and healing. She’d not done a perfect job and she would need time for her leg to heal completely, but it was usable and that was all that mattered. Infections were a non-issue.

She would have rather stood, though she knew standing led to the other person being more alert to her. Sitting or laying gave the impression that she was no threat. Every little bit helped.

She looked around the room, taking in the boring architecture. For a city built in the bones of the city of Sornata, they sure did not have new creative bones when it came to decorating. The room was a rectangle, a door on one corner to the street and a door in the other to the back rooms. It was typical and Yaro was already making a mental map of how the building would likely be structured. The imagine door in the back must have been locked, an easy enchantment to force her way through. The only issue was how tog et there, how to escape. Boring was sometimes good as during heists without complete maps, predictability led to success. If she ever built something herself, boring would not be able to make its ugly appearance known.

A few minutes of muffled street-noise passed before the trumpeting of a solumkerd emerged from the back drape-door. The only thing more irritating than its joviality was the tapping of its shovel claws hitting the floor. If it weren’t for that tapping Yaro would not have guessed her to be a solumkerd, considering the amount of garish cloth draped over her. Only her face, with twin nostrils flailing about, was uncovered to reveal, surprisingly naturally colored, black fur. “Thank you, oh thank you Ku. Ashum,” she barked. Her voice was too high pitched for such a large creature, Yaro absently thought. What would she have to hide?

First obscured by the mass of the solumkerd, a scrawny humi waited by the drape-door. “It’s no problem at all Ka. Vithe. Try not to let little Bar out of his pen again.” He wore work boots and a smile, that was about it. More modest than Yaro had expected, considering his place of work. Likely to show he’s got nothing to hide, make the guests more comfortable.

The solumkerd blubbered more thanks before Ashum the farseer all but pushed her out the door. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” Ashum said with a smile only a person who worked with idiots daily could make. He retreated behind the front desk and ruffled through some cloth-parchment. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” the humi said, standing then waltzing to the desk. “I never do.”

“Indeed you don’t, Ku Mera. I do not need to be a far-seer to guess-”

“Tell me where my Atho was last night. He came home late and said he was out with his friends, but I have a hard time believing that.” The humi took a plume fuur from their cloak with their ethereal hand. A tattoo on their chin glowed, some enhancement that did so little the fuur wobbled through the air before unceremoniously plunked onto the table. Some people did not understand that enhancements bolster already strong attributes, not make up for weak ones. For those, one would need a machine or drug or something else to do the thing for them.

Yaro watched Ashum refrain from putting his hand to his temples. His aura was incredibly professional, not even a hint of annoyance came from anywhere but the humi as she waved a fat finger. He smiled and replied, “yes, well, I can try and find him again if you would like. But, if I may, I would suggest talking to him first. We have yet to find him anywhere but where he said he had been. If you have suspicions, perhaps looking-”

“No, no, no,” she blubbered. “I know where he was last night, i just need proof.”

“Very well. Come to the back with me and we’ll see where your Atho had been.”

The bead door jingled as they left, leaving Yaro alone with the Alsow. Why was that woman so certain her love cheated on her? In the time I’ve been apart from Ellis, did he… She frowned. That bridge would be crossed if ever it reared its ugly path; there was no point in worrying about what ifs.

Ashum came back out shortly, waving the woman off in a hurry. She radiated contempt, though Yaro doubted it was for who she thought about. The door barely had time to creak shut when the Alsow took his turn and came up to the desk.

“Pardon me Ku. Ashum. I’m looking for a lost translation stone, could you help me?”

Without looking up at a paper Ashum had begun to study, “I will not serve you, please leave.”

The alsow raised one hoof and leaned back. Yaro guessed what would come next, the same refusal she occasionally got if she refused to reveal herself. The alsow asked, “excuse me? Why ever not?”

Again without looking up, Ashum said, “Intelligent creatures only. It’s not my choice, it’s the law.”

The room grew silent. Yaro was unaware of this law just as much as the Alsow. Curiosity bit, but not hard enough to inject herself into the conversation. Semi-intelligent creatures like the alsow, gorgon, fairy, and others were often refused this or the other thing. When young, Yaro thought it was because of their lack of rights, like why it was okay to eat many of them. But she later learned that the mere act of overlapping auras with some semi-intelligent creatures caused health problems. When a creature that was able to contemplate existentialism, to truly know one’s self, entered the mind of one who couldn’t, they often came back out changed, lacking, like part of themselves was absorbed by a void. The semi-intelligent creature came out far better, their limited soul space just rejecting the addition of the intelligent. 

It seemed far-seeing would be invasive. Yaro clutched her holder, imagining the ring inside of it.

“Please leave,” a voice said from the opening door. “You are not allowed such services.”

Yaro caught her heart jumping into her throat. Red entered. A humi in red, even sporting a thunderspear slinged across their back, ushered the Alsow out of the establishment. She tried to shrink herself physically, and tried her best to refuse her instincts to make her aura smaller or afraid. Anything that would tip the protector off to suspect anything could mean she would not get Ashum’s help. Or any if things really got bad.

The employee of the kexist government, the one to protect the civilized from the civilized, marched up to the desk. Ashum looked up with a beaming smile. “Welcome to Fortune’s Fate, how may I help you?”

“You can help me,” he said in a commanding tone, “by finding this criminal.” He pulled out a piece of parchment and held it up to Ashum’s face. Yaro could not see whose visage it portrayed from her angle. Calmness caressed her, she took slow breaths and pacing her thoughts to not jump too far.

Ashum shook his head, emanating pitiful sorrow, “I must decline on morals. I help with personal matters only, I was taught to leave any civil cervices to those in the government’s employ.”

THe protector pushed the paper closer to Ashum’s face. He did not back away. The protector said in a darker tune, “You, as a citizen, are required to help upon my request. Now tell me what I want to know.”

“It is strange,” Ashum mused, “why a protector would come to me alone for something so urgent. I actually am friends with the local protectorate farseer, she and I go for tea every weekend. She’s very, very good at her job. Why,” He said walking from behind the desk, “I’m sure she already has plenty of information, let me call her so I may better help-”

“No,” he said, putting the picture away, “there’s no need.” Like a nocturnal creature to a sudden light, he jolted to look at Yaro. He stared at her with open eyes for a few seconds that lasted hours. Yaro was sure he was doing something to try and see under her cloak. It took everything in her power to only tilt her head in question. He mumbled, “there’s no need.”

“I wish you the best of luck on your search, Ka. Protector.”

“Yes.” The protector exited without fanfare and let the room quiet down. Yaro hadn’t realized how much rage was in the room until it was gone. She let out a silent sigh, letting her aura shrink as much as felt comfortable.

“What an unfriendly and unwise fellow.” Ashum took interest in one particular piece of paper. “Fortune smiles upon you today Ka,” Ashum said rounding the desk. Yaro stood as the fareseer spread his arms. “What can I do for you? Would you like to know your future, about a lover, I can even change your fortune for the right price.” Yaro winced at his toothy grin and turned to leave. Changing luck? This hack could not possibly be good enough to do that. And that he offered, well, there was no need for him. “Not what you’re looking for? I have plenty of remedies for a myriad of ailments.” As Yaro opened the door, Ashum adopted a more relaxed tone in his voice, more sleazy. “Ah, you’re trying to find someone, someone lost perhaps.” 

Yaro slowed, unsure if he happened to be lucky in his guess or if he- if he read her mind. If he had, she would have known. If she didn’t know, he would die.

“Why would anyone love a beast like her?” he jovially prodded. She stopped, there's no way he could know, her figure was completely hidden and no one could tell from her aura. Her mind was like a diamond, impenetrable to even protectors. “Of course, you only think of yourself as a beast,” he said, “to him you're as normal as anyone else.” He must be trying to con her to come back in, saying things that would apply to anyone and thus her too, there's no way he could know. “And besides, it's not safe for a drake to be wandering the streets alone.” She did not turn around, nor does she say anything. “Maybe I should call in some help to guide you back home, I'm sure the protectorate would find you very interesting.”

Yaro turned to tower over him. He must want to die; she would be glad to do the deed. But how? Her cloak was specially made to keep her figure hidden, even to those with penetrating sight or from astral projection. She released the burning sensation in her palms. He hadn’t called for anyone yet; he was a man of money. Yaro played with that knowledge, “how much?”

He greeted her with a grin, “So intimidating.” He bowed, “I promise to not let our little secret slip. Three-hundred fuur is my price for missing persons. I’ll give you a discount of one-hundred for being so personable.”

“Sixty”, she responded. 

He eyed her with a gaze that seemed to pierce her mask. “Finding someone missing is so very difficult. It’s fortunate that I have the instruments that do so, but they were quite expensive you see.”

“Sixty,” she stated. Despite his honestly surprising skill, it might be better to find someone else. That skill, it might be that he's just an absurdly good mind reader. A greasy mind-reader. There was that chance, one she couldn’t ignore. And she would have to make sure, one way or another, her secret would die with him.

Maybe he could see through her? He grinned as she made up her mind. I so want to punch those perfect teeth in. He said, “Sixty.”

She eyed him from behind her mask, “That’s awfully generous.”

“I’m used to dealing with more… wealthy patrons. I didn’t lie that my methods cost a bonfire, you pay for what you expect.” He put forth a hand, beckoning for her to follow him into the back room through the drape-door.

Yaro held still for a moment. He was suicidal, bringing her to where no one would see. Unless it was an ambush, invisible people waiting behind the door to kill her. She didn’t have time to die, not a reason yet either. However, that would be unnecessarily complicated. He could just as easily shout for help and that would be the end of it. No, he’s offering his services to her. In the darkness she could handle herself; it would be easier for her to take care of him, she guessed.

She followed him through the door and down a dim hallway of navy curtains. No one else’s aura presented itself, only that of hers and his. Behind another drape-door, they stepped into an only slightly brighter room. In the center rested a table with two pillows on either side and a farseer orb in the center. She’d heard of these devices before, multipurpose machines that amplified one’s abilities. This one reflected no light and swirled with… power was the word that came to mind. She took the seat nearest and Ashum sat across from her.

Ashum closed his eyes and put a hand to the orb. Yaro noticed on his arm a tattoo, frolicking words that said “a flower that burns imprints in ash”. It began to glow orange as the swirls inside the orb stirred and settled into a triangular pattern. She could feel it settle as well, that sent a shiver up her spine. Despite the bravado and showiness of everything, there was something behind it all. Is this just showmanship, or is that thing I’m feeling something more?

“Let’s get straight to it, shall we?” He said, resting his hands into his lap. Humi sat so oddly, with legs crossed over each other. It would take him longer to get up if he needed to run. Other creatures were faster at getting up than her. “Is there a possession that was once his? Something important to him, that he had for years?”

Yaro thought of what she had. It wasn’t like she could have gone back to their home to retrieve something of his. Home was countries away now. On top of that, he was the one who carried their belongings, despite how much weaker he was. Why did he want to take my burden? Now he’s gone and I have nothing. Maybe that’s why? I have things, I have my ring…

She would not give him that. “I have nothing of his. His disappearance was rather sudden.”

“Unfortunately,” he said, “I need something physically linked to the missing person. You understand.”

“And why can’t you use my presence? If you need something linked to his soul, you can find that in me.” Yaro grimaced at how open she was. Desperation would have to be dealt with harshly and soon.

“Ku… pardon my poor hospitality. My name is Ashum, what’s yours?”

“Why do you need something physical?”

Ashum grunted a flash of annoyance before recovering. “Yes, well. A living soul, you know how many people and things you interact with, it gets too tangled. One thread moves and everything has to be restarted.”

There, she cornered him. “And you’re not good enough to deal with changes of fortune?” But a cornered rat only makes it more dangerous.

“Pardon me, Ku,” he paused, “Ka Lost. One’s abilities can only go so far, even with enchantments. And I am able to help you, if you could provide a personal item of his. Something stable.”

Yaro took her ring from its dark-gem holder and clutched it. 

“Someone as powerful as you should be able to accomplish such a feat.” Flattery, a tool that took her almost everywhere. He shook his head and proposed there must be something she has. He promised -she has yet to see any of his promises fulfilled- that no harm will come to the object. He would follow the lingering imprint of the person’s soul.

Yaro swallowed. I could burn you to a crisp, shred your feebly body so easily, break you if you try anything. No, she couldn’t take the chance. With her ethereal hand, she frees the black-gem from its divot in a leather necklace. She pushed the bead from under her cloak and onto the table, careful that nothing could be seen.

With his own ethereal hand, he took it and inspected it. “This won’t do,” he said with a discerning frown.

“Why,” demanded Yaro.

He looked from the bead to Yaro, placing it on the table in front of her. He claimed that it was too inert, not important enough to anyone to find them, not even her. The holder was snatched in an instant, disappearing back into her cloak and set into her necklace. He sighed. “Is there anything you can tell me about this person? A name, a face, a memory?”

“No.” A bit of fire escaped her lips. It burned.

Ashum bowed and emanated exhaustion. “Please Ku, You’re making my work rashly more difficult than it already is. I can only work with knowledge and things I have.”

Yaro knew this. He won’t be able to tell anyone when she leaves, she reminds herself. There’s no point in beating around the bush, she needed information. With heavy reluctance, she pulled the ring from her cloak. Even as the ring sat still on the table, her hand did not move away.

He reached with his ethereal hand and Yaro pulled hers away as they touched. It was instinctive; she hated the feeling of overlapping another's aura. His toothy grin returned, he explained how one’s soul lingers in important objects. How it will stay embedded for years, so there was no need to worry. He added that objects aren’t as fickle as living things. Yaro knew to take this as an affront.

To her surprise, he put the ring back down as soon as he’d picked it up. “If it will ease you,” he said as he pulled out a bottle of clear liquid -Yaro could not tell from where. “Let me give you a demonstration.” He popped the cork and let the, seemingly water, pour out onto the table. It wasn’t; it globbed together like honey but still as viscous as water. “This, my master gave to me upon my ascension. I’ll never forget the day.”

“Why show me this? I’ve already given you what you need.”

More theatrics. The water began to crawl back toward him, like a larva away from her as a predator. “It always returns home, a way for me to always return home.” His aura leaked and rushed Yaro with melancholic grace. With the feelings flowed another presence, one far away to the south. The liquid climbed back into the placed bottle before being sealed away. “Home can be anywhere in the world.” Yaro didn’t care, home was an illusion to help the feeble feel safe.

“Information.”

Ashum nodded. “I know you’re a creature that shouldn’t be… alive,” he so blatantly said that Yaro lost all gumption. “I know why you hide yourself, why you take faith the way you do.”

Yaro shot up. Her tattoos burn her palms. Fear tingled into rage within her chest. “Do you have a death wish?”

Ashum continued, “and here you are, no one around that can hurt you. Only help…”

“If you wish to help, then do so. Quit being Yon-waiting and do it.”

He bowed and picked up her ring once again. She started before catching herself. He lifted the ring and placed it on the orb. With a disgusting sound the orb ate the ring. Her ring. He stared at her, mouthing that this was all part of the process. Yaro stepped around the table, the glow of her flames escaping from her robe and illuminating his face. He turned from her and clapped the orb.

The room washed with memories, all to faint feelings that were neither of theirs. Feelings she recognized very well. The feeling most prominent, at least for Yaro, was nostalgia. It smelled like freshly baked bread, and tasted like a soft pastry. The ring did. The ring smelled like him. And, there he was. Not with her, not now, but where they were in the past. There was no resistance against being thrown back, no reason to fight. Back into their kitchen, back into helping him cook dinner. He had just gotten home from work, weary from saving those orphaned gorgons. It would have been terrible to leave them out into the wilderness alone. Dangerous for the city. He loved to cook, and she loved watching him. She helped where she could, bringing salt or kneading in the seeds. The sun was hot coming through the window. He sweetly smiled at her, mouth moving but without sound. He told her-

“I can,” Ashum said in a strained voice, “where is it? This person, they are… How is this possible? They are here but not. They are both halves, and somehow neither. I can find them, they are here, they are far away. But, how can this be? They are not here, they do not… Something is wrong.”

All at once, the miasma and memories vanished. And in its place raced nothingness, defeat. The ring sat, inert once again, on the table before her. She scooped it up, returning it to its rightful place. Her palm burned against the idea of opening as she tried press it against her chest. Of course I have a cramp now. Pain beset her as she pried her hands open, her muscles screaming.

“My apologies Ku, this is beyond my ability.” Ashum was bent over, heaving with labored breaths. So he was a hack. A hack that got her no closer to finding Ellis.

After catching his breath, Ashum looked up to her. “this person, their soul… how do I explain it? It’s like, it appears- they are so odd. Like they are but also aren’t? My apologies.”

Walking back to the front, he sighed that she would not have to pay for his services. With venom in his voice he admitted he had failed. He looked more defeated than she felt. Yaro would have to seek his master, no other far-seer would do.

“And where is this ‘master’ of yours?” Despite how he had just proven himself, Yaro was still skeptical.

“South in Hyiv, Kexist, a city called Miraul.” He led her to the door and bowed. “She is far more adept than I -and anyone I’ve ever known.”

She left Ashum without harming him. I wonder if I’ll regret that. I mean, I have a lead now, but what if he calls the protectorate? No one else was able to help, so why would he? I just need to find this Egra, she’ll lead me to my Atho.

She considered taking a bath before actually leaving for this Egra. She deserved it. That and she walked through the streets smelling of incense and cleaning product. Which, while better than garbage, was no more pleasing to her nostrils. She snorted.

Yaro coiled to sleep. It was difficult to ignore the putridity around her, the odor of rotting trash and the feeling of slime and sharp objects under her. Her cloak and mask were stored away safely in her holder while she covered herself with a thrown away blanket. No one would look for her in a back alley, not even the homeless roamed here.

She did hate the smell, this was true. Her acclimation to the stench had been lost in her time with Ellis, from a year or two of cleanliness. The amount of time she spent with Ellis had been lost to bliss. The warm smell of freshly baked bread could only be preferred to moldy and half eaten. What a waste of food, cities were where the wealthy could indulge themselves and the poor could survive off their scraps 

The city: she hated and loved it. Hated because of all the people. Loved from nostalgia and practicality. All cities danced to the same music. Melodies of business, excess, bustling, stark wealth and poverty. Loneliness. Despite the amount of people, it was easiest to move about in a city, especially compared to more rural settlements. When she was younger, she’d thought to leave for some cursory town where the protectors were few and far between. But, in their place guarded tight bonds between people. She could not penetrate those bonds to get to the bread, nor could she assimilate.

Everyone else hated the smell of rot and refuse. Safety begged to be assured for the night. Safe as she could be. The best place to be was just outside the city, away from the populace but not into the wild. Just as far as the intermediary's domain reached. She’d also tried living in the wild, far from any settlement. That fantasy did not last long. She had to leave.