Slithering Maze 41: Setting the Record Straight

Medilus 8, 1278: Arth Prayogar. Getting not quite what I wanted, but probably what I deserved.

Author’s Note: Kingdom of the Slithering Maze is a serialized fiction story that is a part of a collection called the Windtracer Tales. It follows the adventures of Tela Kioni and her crew dealing with expeditions in and around the world of Awldor. There they hunt down lost, and possibly lethal, relics of the Ancient Order, a near-mythical kingdom lost to the centuries old cataclysm, the Great Collapse.

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Previously: A quick decision and dive into death mist, put Tela on a slight edge. But it nearly cost her—and Garrik—their lives. Despite that, Tela used a risky gamble to bring down Rima’s plans of conquest once and for all. As for the lich, Rima Nimad? She went up in smoke—or did she? No one knows. But as the dust settled, Tela found herself the focus of concerns and questions… so very many questions…

Medilus 8, 1278: Arth Prayogar. Getting not quite what I wanted, but probably what I deserved.

I finally got that hot bath and nap I wanted. But they came at a price—three days at the Lemongrass Inn, more than one bruise rainbow, and a brutal headache. The last got worse every time I retold what happened to Council officials, sympathetic Trade-Wardens, and more. Admittedly, a visit from one of the Dream-Scribe’s people was a surprise.

That last visit confirmed my worst fear—I’d come down with a nasty case of being called a ‘hero’. No matter how hard I scrubbed, it wouldn’t come off.

“Hero of the city,” the emerald-skinned tiefling said with a polite smile, writing the phrase in his canvas-bound notebook.

“Wait. What?” I sputtered, nearly dropping my cup of coffee.

Zamien Ramode, the tiefling across the table from me, wore the typical gray and brown monk robes of a Dream-Scribe. It was the book-themed red stole around his neck that gave away he was a librarian-priest. Calmly, he set his quill on the notebook, then sipped his coffee with a chuckle. The amusement rippled down to the end of his tail, which twitched like an amused cat’s.

“Just what I said,” Zamien replied as if explaining how water really was still wet. “Hero. You and your companions. I’ve heard it more than once since what happened in the Council building. But if you prefer something less friendly, there are those calling you a ‘kingdom-breaker’.”

A grumpy moan, ragged as a torn sheet, fell out of me.

“Is there an option here for ‘none of the above’?” I asked, not quite able to keep a tiny whine out of my voice.

The priest chuckled again. I was glad someone was entertained by all this.

“No, there isn’t,” he replied. After another sip of his coffee, he picked up his quill, rubbed it against the ink-stone, then continued to scribble notes about the Iraxi and events three days prior. “A little advice, if I may, Lady Kioni?”

“Tela is fine,” I said, solemnly peering into my coffee for salvation. “You don’t have to toss more titles on.”

Zamien inclined his head. “Tela, then. What’s done is written. Titles? They’re fleeting. Titles can be as light as a flower laurel or heavy as an ox-yoke. The more you dwell on them, the heavier they become. Focus on today, not yesterday. The titles aren’t you.”

I pursed my lips, frowning.

“Thank you, Librum Zamien.” I turned the advice around in my head a bit, chewing on it for the flavor. “It’s… something to think about.”

By late morning, ‘think’ had melted into ‘worry’ with a steaming side of twitchy. It haunted me until an out of breath messenger arrived from the Arth Prayogar council building—Chancellor Fel wanted another private meeting. After they left, I changed into a fresh, cream linen shirt free of blood-stains, and my least-battered pants before I told the others.

They weren’t thrilled to say the least.

“Again?” Skarri hissed. She was still recovering, but Kiyosi had been doing his usual top-notch healing work. Today, Skarri was wearing more clothing than bandages, which was a good sign. “I don’t like it.”

“You’re not alone,” Kiyosi added, folding his arms over his chest with a glare. “Haven’t they asked enough questions? You need rest!”

I fought a very real urge to roll my eyes. They all made it sound so easy to sit, rest, and recover. I tried to rest. Other times I tried to sleep. Occasionally, I got lucky and managed both.

Secretly, I was glad to meet with the Chancellor; it gave me something to do beyond ‘be still’ since I just didn’t do ‘behave’.

“Now look, they’re scared,” I protested. “A lich very nearly stole their kingdom—maybe their lives. Everyone’s been questioned twice over. This is more of the same. I’ll be fine.”

“Of course. Which is why I go with hyu,” Atha said calmly as if discussing the weather.

I scowled at him so hard that he actually raised his hands in mock defeat.

“Then again, I could be staying here,” he quickly added.

Mikasi also started to say something, but wisely stopped himself at my glare.

I rubbed a hand over my face. “Really, I appreciate the concern. I do. But I think I filled my quota of near-death experiences three days ago, so I’m safe. Besides, the Trade-Wardens are out in force. Two bits says I get an unofficial escort.”

Kiyosi and Atha took the bet—I won.

Once I left the Lemongrass Inn for the street, Rhen Shotho melted out of the crowd and into my shadow. I grinned.

“Your turn today?” I asked.

He grunted. “Better to escort you in case you kick over a rock and find another conspiracy to solve.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed.

Arth Prayogar’s Market Square was back in full force after the near-coup. Overhead, the prairie sun was bright and merciless, making me grateful for my tinted goggles.

Faded banners on poles lined the road like a fluttering honor guard. Shade sails in a rainbow of reds, greens, and more, stretched from yellowed, cracked adobe patios. Under the awnings, merchants hawked everything imaginable. There was embroidered cloth from Osidore, fruit from Ishnanor, and all manner of goods from across the Thetari Trade Road.

Scents of cooking meat danced through the air with fresh-baked bread until my mouth watered. I solved that with flatbread-wrapped chicken and peppers I bought from a bald, halfling spice merchant with a weathered smile. He waved a hand when I pulled out coins to pay.

“I recognize you. It’s on the house, Windtracer,” he said with a wizened grin. “You’re the reason the city didn’t burn down while a lich dragged us to the nine hells.”

“Er… you’re welcome?” I replied slowly.

That’s when I noticed a feeling in the air around me; like I wasn’t overlooked anymore. A pair of centaur cloth merchants eyed me warily. It was hard to miss one whispering ‘kingdom-breaker’. I exchanged a brittle smile with them as I went on my way.

They weren’t alone. As I walked through the market, if I didn’t hear whispered remarks of ‘hero’, I saw subtle hand gestures at me to ward off evil. Both hit like arrows, making me flinch.

I tried to ignore it, but I’d never had this much attention before. It was like wearing soaked wool I couldn’t peel off. I hunched my shoulders as I hurried a bit faster. Rhen cleared his throat.

“It’ll get quieter when we reach the Council building,” he assured me.

“By the Lady Deep, I hope so,” I muttered. “All I did was punch a lich.”

He let out a low laugh.

“You did a lot more than that, but I know what you mean. It’s already a holiday—the ‘Day of Ash and Bone’.”

I rolled my eyes with a long sigh, stalking toward the city administration building.

The battered building was on its way back to normal. Masons worked to repair hoof-battered doors or blood-stained broken tiles. A few spared me a glance but kept opinions to themselves; there was too much work to do.

I paused a moment to take in the scene. A pair of workers peeled a torn, bloodied Herd Tolvana tabard off the ground. One sign of many that Rima had cut the kingdom to the bone. Not that she would’ve noticed. People who think that the ends justify the means never stop to see—or care—that the cost is always paid in innocent lives.

“Second floor to the Chancellor?” I asked Rhen, who nodded grimly.

I hurried through the foyer, past its bitter nightmares, for the ramp to the Chancellor’s office. As luck had it, he wasn’t alone.

Rhen held the door open as I stepped in to find Chancellor Fel standing, staring out a window. On the other side of a centaur-sized desk, Liru sat with his snake-like tail curled under him like a makeshift scaly cushion. Prairie wind gusted through the half-open window, carrying a hint of wildflowers and—like always—dust.

“Tela,” Liru said with a smile.

He started to rise, maybe to offer me a hug, but hesitated. Our conversation before the lich bloodbath hung like a pall over everything. Liru had lied by omission to get me to help, which contributed to how bad it had gotten. Still, healing had to start somewhere, so I lightly squeezed his shoulder when I reached the chair next to him.

Chancellor Fel nodded once I sat down.

“Thank you for coming, Lady Kioni.”

I shrugged. “Nothing like more conversation around the Day of Ash and Bone,” I said dryly.

Liru winced. Chancellor Fel arched a bemused eyebrow.

“So you’ve heard? Well, that saves me an explanation.” He lightly waved a hand at the window. “It was necessary. Naming it gives people something better to focus on. Hopefully, move on from what happened.”

“Can they?” I asked tartly, remembering people—just bystanders—who were run down by Herd Tolvana soldiers.

Fel’s eyebrows rose for his steel-gray hairline as he sighed, horse-tail swatting the air.

“Fair question. It’ll take work, but I think so.” He turned, hoofs clomping lightly against the wooden floor as he faced us. “Herd Tolvana atoning for their part in this will help. Sadly, their current Magister suffered an unfortunate accident three days ago. The Trade-Wardens assure me he’ll recover, but we’ll see. Until then, his temporary replacement has some hard questions to answer.”

“You mentioned that before Tela arrived,” Liru said. “How soon before they pick one?”

“Better question. Will the rotten lot say anything more useful than ‘oops’?” I asked, my frustration still on display.

The Chancellor shrugged. “I’m expecting real answers. The city deserves that much. So does Jata. Even a little would help me to earn back the people’s trust. Fix the cracks. Nudge the kingdom to something better.”

Liru nodded solemnly. “I hope they find their better nature and atone for their part in all this.”

Fel chuckled deep in his chest. “We’ll see. Jata sometimes rewards honesty with a knife to the back. Still, it’s worth the effort. To which, thank you for what you did, Lady Kioni. Jata came a hair’s breadth from horror.”

I sucked in a quiet breath, squirming in the wooden chair.

“Chancellor, please. It was—” The words caught in my throat. Calling it ‘nothing’ felt insulting. “—it had to be done. If history is any guide, Rima would’ve painted Jata in blood.”

The centaur nodded, folding his hands in front of him.

“So I’ve gathered. All the more reason my people owe you a debt.”

Those words, and the responsibility behind them, burrowed under my skin the worst way. It felt like I was sitting on an angry anthill. Unable to take any more, I stared at the ceiling with a heavy sigh.

“If you really mean that, Chancellor, I’m calling it in.” I met his curious gaze. “Stop the persecution of tieflings, really anyone not a centaur. They’re people, not things.”

“It would be a good start,” Liru advised. “In some ways, it compounded the recent problems.”

The Chancellor’s eyes turned distant as he gazed out the window at the courtyard below.

“If I could only make it happen by decree,” he murmured. “I’ve proposed laws, but they’ll only go so far. Education and time are the real solutions. I’ve plans to work with the Dream-Scribe’s people on education. Time will take care of itself. Sadly, that means at least a generation, but maybe that can be sped up.”

“That leaves the crystals,” Liru hissed softly. “They can’t stay here.”

“They won’t,” I said flatly.

Fel’s mouth pulled into a smile.

“Nor should they. The farther they are from Jata, the happier I’ll be. Is it true they can’t be destroyed?”

Liru shrugged, clasping his scaled hands. “That’s what the ancient texts say—which is why my people keep trying to hide them.”

I folded my hands in my lap.

“If I may? I think they’re from a type of crystal golem called an Automatic Crystal. The lich, Rima, is a member of a group called the Gatekeeper Society that’s obsessed with them. But,” I bit my lower lip in thought, “there might be a way to make them harmless.”

“How?” Fel asked curiously.

“Free the elementals inside them.” I shrugged. “No elementals, no threat. I can handle that with the help of a friend in Ishnanor.”

“That solves two. What about the third one with the gray mist?” Fel asked.

I shook my head. “Different problem. It’s mine to solve.”

“Tela, I’d like to send Skarri along when you free the elementals,” Liru said, turning toward me. Then he smiled a little. “One last task before she leaves my service.”

I blinked. “What?”

The shaman shrugged. “She wants to settle in Ishnanor for a bit, then visit a little town called Banye?”

I grinned. So Skarri had asked Mikasi to show her his hometown after all. Good.

“Of course,” I glanced between the two men. “What about the ruins outside Arth Prayogar?”

The Chancellor gestured to Liru. “The Trade-Wardens will seal all access until a new viprin delegation arrives. They’ll take charge of the ruins, artifacts and all. I’ll make sure the Merchant Herds keep their hooves out.”

“Good,” I replied.

“Yes,” Fel agreed. Then he studied me. “Lady Kioni, don’t take this the wrong way, but hero or not, I’ll be glad to see you go.”

I laughed softly. “That’s fair. I know having me around adds more headaches than help.”

The Chancellor grinned. “A little, yes.”

I tensed, then glanced at Liru.

“Liru? You asked for my help, and I gave it. But I also did it because you saved my best friend’s life once. I know your people place stock in debts. Does freeing the elementals, even tossing the crystals in the first volcano I find, even things?”

He nodded, giving the floor a sad look.

“By our law, it does.” Then he met my gaze. “But… Tela, I never felt you owed me a debt. Yes, I saved Kiyosi’s life. But we spent days in the Deepland Hollow debating history, sharing findings.” A smile brushed his scaled lips, amber eyes dancing. “It’s a fond memory. Debts aside, I’d rather repair our friendship—if we can.”

I gave him a slight smile.

“Yeah, I’d like that. No more lying by omission, right?”

“Right,” Liru grinned.

I gave Liru a warm hug, then looked between him and the Chancellor.

“If that’s all, I’d best get packed. I’ve one last thing to set right.”

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Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

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