I have never had a taste for rum. This would surprise those who knew me in my days of exile, for a drank quite a bit of it. This was a case of drinking what was available rather than what one desired. They distill it from the cane that grows all over Uazica, with numerous local varieties infused with all manner of fruits, seasonings, and minerals. They will drink it straight or mixed with any number of other liquids. My favorite, unsurprisingly, is aroyam. The name comes from the word for mud from a riverbed, and mixes rum with chocolatl. Between the complex interplay of bitter and sweet that characterizes the best chocolatl, I could barely detect the disagreeable cloying sweetness of rum.
On the afternoon I met Anqaspuma Huazha, a fresh mug sat in front of me on the stone surface of the bar. The fluffy cloud of froth at the top was a gentle harbinger for the rich taste within. I had spent the bulk of my day in one of the taverns along the waterfront in the great city of Cahuanaca. Wide windows looked out onto the street, a breeze, fragrant from the Edda, flowing through the expansive room. Ur-Anu, my obsidian spear, leaned against the bar next to me, drawing more than a few looks from the patrons.
From the street, if I turned to the south, I would see the king's palace glittering on the hill. An edifice of impossible luxury and beauty, it was a strange sight standing beside the stinking waterfront. Ships laden with goods came from both east and west to this city, all tying up along the expansive wharf. The banks of Cahuanaca had been entirely covered, ornate stone stairs rising from the river itself, keeping the city above the limits of the regular floodwaters.
I was alone. Quiyahui had stayed outside of the city. I planned to return to her that evening and sleep in the wild. The city didn't have a job for me, nothing beyond spending my silver. To that end, my mug of aroyam, my fifth of the day, surrounded by sailors and stevedores drinking their wages. A few ladies worked the patrons, and the mood was a bright one.
In one corner of the car, three men sang in harmony while a flautist and drummer accompanied them. The music was energetic, lubricating every elbow in the place. I sipped my drink, enjoying the lightness in my head. I was already planning to buy another round for myself. The pouch I'd gotten from Sumatika Malvica was growing light, but there was likely another couple months of ease in it. Yet, money or not, I was growing restless. It was time to quit Cahuanaca for other destinations. Silver would spend there just as easily.
I was weighing my eventual destination, wondering if it would be along the Edda, across the river to the northern shore of Kharsoom, or south into the verdant jungles of Uazica, when I first saw her. It was like a thunderbolt in my chest. A pure, physical need for her covered my limbs in the bright buzz of desire.
She was tall for a woman, with powerful, slender limbs. Her figure reminded me of Alia's, in the way that every movement of her body revealed lean muscles coiling beneath taut skin, an expression of lithe power. Her flesh was a reddish bronze, catching light like burnished metal. Her black hair was short and tousled, giving her a puckish, spunky air. Her eyes were mahogany, with a mysterious slant to them. She wore a short kilt in a masculine style, and her vest was cinched over her modest breasts. Though I had grown used to the more revealing modes of dress in this area of the world, seeing it on a creature so alluring was undeniably arresting.
Our eyes met for but a moment, and then she passed by me. I felt her hands on me, the casual touch of one gently moving another aside. I found myself turning unbidden to watch her as she made her way to the far end of the bar. I was already considering my approach, to see if she would appreciate an evening of revelry. I was looking better now that I had begun regularly trimming my hair and beard.
The next moment was confusing and I don't have a clear memory of it. The people around me gave a jostle, with a group shoving through the crowd. A call came from the direction the woman had disappeared in. "It's him! The outlander has it!" The crowd in front of me parted, revealing four city guards, recognizable by their spears and red feathered headdresses. All four were focused on me, their eyes stern. Ur-Anu called to me, but I left it where it was. They wanted me for something, but I had not done anything other than drink.
"You!" one said, jabbing a gnarled finger at me.
"Yes?" I asked, speaking Huyu.
"You are an outlander," he said in Nahlor. Between my time in Toranam and my knowledge of Huyu I was able to follow it.
"I am. I'm enjoying this establishment."
"You are a thief."
"I'm not. I've been here all afternoon. Ask them." I gestured around the tavern. None of the patrons seemed eager to speak up for me.
"You have the naqamar."
Here, I find I must explain something. "Naqamar" is a Nahlor word, meaning literally
copper
but its true meaning is considerably more complex than that. Centuries before, a single empire stretched along the entire northern edge of Uazica. The Yzhata were a powerful force, even rivaling great Kharsoom for a time. They fell long ago, leaving many cultural markers that persist to this day. One is the wealth of languages spoken along the Edda that all share the same mother tongue. Another is the aforementioned naqamar.
These objects are oval pieces of metal hammered flat, about the size of a woman's palm. Most of the metal in them is appropriately enough copper, but it is often veined with other metals, most commonly silver and gold. They often have additional adornments around the borders in the form of precious stones and sculpted pieces of shell. They are valuable for their material, as any piece of precious metal and jewels will fetch a price. In Uazica and parts of Obai, they have a greater value for their artistic and cultural import.
Naqamar used to signal allegiance to one of the great noble houses of the Yzhata, a sign of power and a signifier of the great web of loyalties that supported the old empire. Since then, naqamar have become popular for the local nobles and wealthy merchants to collect, with more than one noble claiming their bloodline reached back to the Yzhata. They have a second life of conferring power and importance, as a collection of naqamar is a sign of both power and influence. Some carried enchantments, and Ixumone the Conqueror was famous for her shirt, dripping with naqamar, each one with a different power. I had never held one, seeing them only in a visit to the local museum.
"I have no naqamar."
He grabbed me. And this is perhaps where I am at fault for what transpired. Call it the effects of the rum in the aroyam. Call it the harsh realities of my life in exile over the past several years. Call it an atrophy of my peaceful manner. In any case, I shoved him back. Perhaps I had not passed the point of no return by this point, but I would pass it in heartbeats.
One of the guards grabbed Ur-Anu, my spear, from where it leaned against the bar. He said something about taking my weapon, but I did not hear anything over a sudden burst of fire within me.
I reached for Ur-Anu, and Fate found my hand. The thread found me, and I followed the pathway illuminated. I do not feel good about this, and I think I would have resisted had my body not been filled with rum. This guard did not deserve to have his head split in twain, but we do not always get what we deserve.
In a second, I stood over a dead guard holding a dripping weapon, the other three brandishing their spears. The patrons at the tavern screamed, and a mad press of them pushed for the front door to get away from the guard-killing madman as quickly as they could. Beyond, on the street, I glimpsed more guards trying to shoulder their way in.
Fighting my way out would mean slaughtering these men, and drunk or not, I had no stomach for such senseless butchery. I leapt up onto the bar itself, running the full length, my stride kicking beverages ahead of me. The guards continued to push through the crowd, momentarily hung up by the fleeing patrons. Ahead, the wide windows beckoned, and with a leap that would have been more agile after my first aroyam, I jumped out onto the street. I rolled over the cobbles, scraping myself but suffering no other effects, then scrambled to my feet.
A shout found me, and more guards were running up the street. Threads in my mind's eye reached to each of them. I saw, in horrifying detail, how I could stand my ground and butcher the lot of them. I had no desire to do more, especially not over a simple misunderstanding. Sadly, my chance of expressing any kind of innocence was gone along with that one guard's life.
I fled, sprinting down the mazelike streets of Cahuanaca. The sun was setting, turning the sky pink and orange and purple. The dark gathered, torches and lanterns beginning to be lit.
The guards were tenacious, pursuing me with impressive skill and foresight. They knew all of the shortcuts and alleys of their city, and used them to try to corner me. When they finally trapped me in a blind alley, I scaled the building to the roof, thanking my time in the jungle for turning me into a skilled climber. Then I was running over the rooftops of the buildings, leaping over the narrow alleys while the guards pursued from street level.
The chase was an exhausting one. It did not end until I made it to the city wall, vaulting over it and fleeing into the dark of the jungle beyond. I finally collapsed in a clearing not far from the city, the air aching in my lungs. I was covered in scrapes and bruises and my muscles burned, but I was exhilarated, my mind bright and clear.
I had not yet caught my breath when a voice came from the trees. "That was impressive. I nearly lost you a few times."
I sat up, clutching Fate, telling myself I would get to my feet when I had to and not a second before. The woman I had seen in the tavern strode into the clearing, her hips swaying. Her skin glistened with sweat, her breath was heavy, but she was still upright.
"What do you want?" I demanded.
She switched to Huyu, and though it carried the local accent, which I found pleasantly jagged, I could understand her easily. "That's a little rude. I pursued you through the city and that's what you say?"
