The carriage rocked and swayed like an untethered boat as it rushed toward the Ayaseen residence. The force of its speed had its passengers holding on tightly to the edges of their seats.

Sakina’s anxious gaze subconsciously centered on the little boy tucked against her master’s side. She slowly took in his unusually snow-colored hair, curious pale skin and impossibly black eyes.

A Valquari, she thought. Since their tiny little island was swallowed by the Ziruhi Kingdom, they had begun to flee to the Semani Empire, flooding the Undercity and the Shefrin markets with their kind.

“Is this boy the reason why my esteemed master went to the Undercity?” asked Sakina, breaking the otherwise tense silence.

Yuer shook his head, “No. He saw my face back then, I couldn’t leave him behind or else he would’ve led the Shakoura right to our doorstep.”

Although her master’s tone was sterile and chilly, the hand clasped tightly around the boy’s twig-like shoulders betrayed his semblance of nonchalance. Her master probably had his own reasons for saving this child and Sakina made up her mind to not pry any further.

Yuer fixed his gaze at some unidentified point on the carriage’ wooden wall and tentatively inquired, “What…happened back then? How did I…kill those men?”

Sakina’s expression darkened. She visibly gulped several times before answering, “Esteemed master killed those man with…what looked like an attribute of the Divine Echo, except it was neither Light nor Earth Echo.”

Yuer’s jaws clenched, “Describe it to me.”

“It was pitch black, the closest thing I could visually associate with its appearance is…ink. It seeped out of esteemed master’s body and then it…” Sakina flattered, “It somehow solidified itself into countless black swords, cutting cleanly into the four men around the boy.”

“And the other man?” pressed Yuer.

“He was…thoroughly squashed.” Sakina replied, “He conjured his own Echo but master’s power seemed to have…swallowed it up. The man was dead before he could even retaliate.”

Yuer’s eyes sharply shifted, boring their inquisitive gaze into his servant’s, “You say…it looked like my Echo swallowed up his own?”

Sakina grimly nodded, “Yes. That was how it looked like to your humble servant.”

Yuer bit down his lower lip, lost in thought. What kind of Divine Echo swallows up another? Unknown, erratic and cannibalistic in nature; what in the Mahatir’s holy glory was this Echo?

The youth was disquieted by this new discovery. He was worried enough as it was with having an unidentified, suppressed Echo and now it turned out to be unpredictable and dangerously uncontrollable. What would become of Yuer if this Echo erupted in public or targeted the wrong person? It had already ruined his plan. His trip to the Undercity was all in vain now due to it. He got to neither negotiate with Lone Eye nor meet Tamine Nakari.

What a waste of precious time. I need to do something about this Echo before it ruins everything. I must somehow learn to control it.

Yuer glanced at Sakina, “In that room, was there a dark haired youth of fifteen summers or so?”

Sakina’s youthful features creased in concentration. She consulted her memory several times and yet she couldn’t remember seeing this one youth her master was asking about.

“No, esteemed master. There were only the four lackeys and that seated man.” She tipped her chin in the white-haired child’s direction, “Besides this Valquari child, there was no other boy.”

Yuer fell silent, slipping one free hand into his longish dark brown hair. His slender fingers twisted and tagged at the strands as he thought.

So, Tamine wasn’t there. Then, I didn’t unwittingly kill him which means he is still alive and kicking somewhere in the Undercity, probably in the process of running an errand for the now deceased Lone Eye. Now with the Shakoura looking everyone for me, I can’t risk another trip into their territory. What to do?

Yuer’s mind turned for some time before a sudden thought occurred to him. He swiftly turned to Sakina, “The subjugation war with the Mesra Tribes. Did it come to an end at the twenty third of this month? ”

Sakina took a moment to respond, “When I went out to buy more paper for esteemed master last week, I think I remember hearing the common folk speak of it. I remember them chattering about an upcoming public execution of some Mesrin barbarians. The streets were abuzz with such news that day.”

A glint of determination flashed across Yuer’s blue eyes. His hands sought the little slit window between his seat and the driver’s. He opened it and called out to the man, “A change of destination, to the Shefrin market.”

He might not be able to get Tamine out of the Undercity himself but that didn’t mean he couldn’t acquire someone who could.

Yuer stood in his hooded cloak among the Shefrin market’s crowd of potential buyers and gauging spectators. He had decided to come out on his own, leaving Sakina in the carriage with the Valquari child. Neither of them needed to see this and be reminded of unpleasant things.

His gaze swept across the rows of shackled men, women and children atop the display stands. His eyes honed in on the heavily chained figure at the far right of the wooden platform. Their frame was too emaciated and filth-ridden for Yuer to distinguish their gender. However, their distinctive flaming red hair and amber glare screamed their Mesrin origin like little else could.

The Mesra folk were a collection of hunting tribes that occupied the far western border of the Empire. They were most known for three things; their unique dwellings which they carved into the Revat Range itself, their ferociously combative nature and lastly, their Earth Listeners. In fact, one of the most powerful companions of the very first Tewekaga who established the Empire with the Reznali hailed from Mesra. Reasonable people generally would not want to piss off a Mesrin. However, with their continuous raiding of the Empire’s western border villages in recent years, the Rezas had chosen to subjugate them once and for all as a form of final retaliation.

Due to the blessed nature of some of the war prisoners, the Semani law had adopted a certain way of dealing with this particular matter. Au lieu of sending them off to the guillotine like their unblessed brethren, the Echo Listeners would be, instead, sold off to the Shefrin merchants who, in turn, would sell them off to the public. By the time the blessed captives were to be put in display before buyers, they would be far too starved and sleep-denied to conjure up any residual Echo. Their physical state would be exactly like this very half-dying redheaded figure before Yuer.

The open bidding wars had already started and the crowds were quite spirited and eager to contribute. This particular patch of Shefrin was mostly composed of blessed otherwise death penalty war criminals. This disagreeable fact made them drop quite lower than the typical Shefrin in terms of purchase value. Yuer kept watching, biding his time until the merchant reached the Mesrin.

The aged merchant looked down at the wood tablet in his hands before glancing back at the Mesrin ‘merchandise’. His narrow gaze held glaring disgust, “Esteemed clients, this thing I present before you is a vile, dangerous she-beast that hails from the filthy, barbarian land of Mesra. This mad Mesrin bitch had singlehandedly slaughtered half a company of our Reznali arms. In fact, if it wasn’t for its Earth Echo mark, its head would’ve rolled down the guillotine today.”

The merchant gestured to the mercenary guard with a dipped chin. The burly man strode toward the woman and harshly pulled at the end of her chains, dragging her starved form forward.

“For those of you who have a taste for the wilder and deadlier things in life, the bidding will start at ten silver pieces.” bellowed the old merchant.

The guard tagged harder at the chains once more, hoping to give the crowd an even closer look of the woman. She, however, fought against him, refusing to be led any further. In response, he kicked her in the guts then clenched his brutish hands around her hair, violently pulling at her scalp. The woman gritted her teeth, refusing to give her tormentor the satisfaction of her scream. The guard, however, grew impatient and uncoiled his iron-tipped whip from his belt. He wacked it across the woman’s face with considerable force, opening several gashes on her skin. The woman hissed in agony before glaring back at the guard. Her bloodied lips hooked in a derisive and challenging snarl.

The crowd hooted and jeered at the display of violence, itching for more of the gory entertainment. The guard’s chest rose and fell in a rapid, furious rhythm. His thunderous gaze zeroed in on the Mesrin woman, promising a world of torment for her defiance.

The aged merchant clicked his tongue, “Enough already, if it dies, you will have to compensate me with a month-worth of labor.”

The guard vehemently spat at the woman’s face before retreating to his initial spot, by the merchant’s side.

Yuer didn’t care to watch any longer. He trod through the antsy and excited crowd, coming to stand right before the willowy, saggy-skinned merchant. He pinned him with an icy stare and uttered one thing, “one hundred silvers.”

The old rat’s eyes widened. He knew that even if he was to spend half the day bidding on this rabid Mesrin bitch, the highest price wouldn’t even amount to thirty silvers. And here, he was, pleasantly presented with a fool who would pay a tenth of a gold piece for a crazy she-beast. So, how could he still call himself a man of profit and refuse?

A self-satisfied smile surfaced upon the wrinkled face of the merchant, exposing yellow and crooked teeth, “Esteemed client, the Mesrin thing is yours as of this very moment.”

He turned to the still huffing guard and barked, “Bring it!”

The guard’s eyes glinted sadistically as he was about to advance toward the still snarling woman.

Yuer halted the towering man with one chilling gaze, “No need. You stay where you are.”

The youth walked to the woman himself. He slowly crouched down; bringing his face at an equal eye level with hers. He leaned forward and the woman hissed at him, warning him to not draw any closer.

However, Yuer didn’t pull back. Instead, he whispered to her, in low, heavily-accented Mesrin, “Do you wish to be free? Do you wish to leave this land and never step a foot in it again?”

The woman jerked visibly, not expecting to be talked to in her mother tongue. Her proud and angry amber gaze locked into Yuer’s for some time, as if seeking something. She clenched and unclenched her jaws several times before responding with a small, brusque nod.

“There is one thing I want you to do for me.” Yuer went on to promise, “If you accomplish it, I will board you, myself, on any ship you choose. I also won’t let this rat brand you. So, no one will ever know you were once Shefrin.”

The woman remained on the ground for a while. Yuer didn’t urge her. Instead, he patiently watched her as she repeatedly struggled to wipe the blood running down her face on the sleeves of her flea-ridden rags. After a few moments, she shifted her gaze back to Yuer, staring him firmly in the eyes. She then said in harsh and broken Semani, “You, me… I do…you let me leave...so we go… go now.”

Yuer nodded then went to offer her his hand to help her to her feet. The redhead didn’t take it however. Instead, she hauled herself up with her own effort, coughing up some blood and dirt in the process. The blue-eyed youth smiled, finding her blunt and discourteous nature very much to his likening. People like this Mesrin woman were the easiest to deal with. They knew neither to lie nor to hide daggers in their smiles. With them, what you would see was what you would naturally get.

How rare and refreshing…

Yuer turned around and walked back to the merchant. He stuffed a gold piece in his wrinkled hand and demanded, “Give me the key.”

The old man seemed to have fallen into dazed stupor at the sight of the gold coin. Yuer didn’t have the patience for him so he gestured to the redhead, who walked toward the rodent-looking handler with heavy chains and all. Once she reached him, she sneered at the guard before she stomped the weight of her heavily-shackled foot down the old man’s. Instantly, a high-pitched yelp akin to that of a wounded, old dog pierced the air.

The redhead looked at the merchant and said dryly, “Key.”

The old man hopped from one foot to another as if his soles were on fire. Mist gathered at the corners of his narrow eyes from the pain. He was about to curse the woman when he remembered the gold piece, still clasped in his hand. His pain was forgotten in an instance. A watery smile stretched across his thin lips as he pulled a key from the many hoops around his leather belt.

He bowed his head as he presented the key to Yuer and spoke reverently, “Esteemed young master, here is your key. After you are done, please follow me to my humble office to receive your change.”

Yuer took his time, unlocking the redhead’s many shackles. He watched from the corner of his eyes as the old merchant’s thin-rail figure quivered with glee like an excited pup. The youth held back the derisive snort that fought to escape him.

Once the redhead was freed from her bindings, Yuer walked back to the old man, bypassing the guard. He directed his hand at the ground beneath the burly mercenary’s boots and stealthily applied the tiniest bit of his Earth Echo, hoping not to trigger another Echo-burnout headache. The guard stumbled all of a sudden and Yuer used that very moment to swiftly pull the iron-studded whip out from the brute’s belt. Using all the strength in his slender body, Yuer raised the whip and slashed it across the unsteady guard’s face, hitting him at the same spot where he hit the previously defenseless Mesrin woman.

The screaming guard tumbled down to the ground, holding his bleeding face between his already blood-soaked hands. The stone-faced youth kicked him in the stomach before letting go of the whip, letting it fall between the still groaning brute’s feet. Yuer pinned the whimpering form with an inhumanely cold stare, “For my servant. I’m sure mercenaries understand the eye for an eye principle.”

He then glanced back at the redhead and urged, “Let’s go.”

The Mesrin woman stared at Yuer’s departing back, her amber eyes glinted with something akin to approval. She looked down at the fallen mercenary, spat at his bleeding face and followed after the youth.

Yuer and the redhead left the merchant’s office as soon as the youth got his change. The old rat insisted on providing the ‘branding’ service for free but Yuer firmly denied him, stating that he preferred collars for his servants. After escaping the wrinkled clutches of the old handler, the pair headed toward the waiting carriage.

In their way, Yuer remembered to ask something, “I still don’t know your name. What is it?”

The Mesrin woman snorted, “Master now…You name. No?”

Yuer chuckled, “I don’t think I care that much. Whatever name your parents gave you, you keep it.”

The redhead fell silent for a bit before answering, “Hasha.” She pointed at sky, “Star…sky…red.”

“Means red star?” Yuer mused, “The unborn child of the old Mesrin goddess, Bahita. She knew she couldn’t keep him because he would die in her womb due to his part-mortal blood, so instead, she made him into a red star and sent him to the sky.” Yuer glanced back at Hasha and gave her a rare, gentle smile, “beautiful name.”

Hasha stopped dead in her tracks, taken aback by Yuer’s words. She slipped into her mother tongue as she asked, “You know our language, our old gods and our stories. Where did you learn them? How do you know them? Did you travel to Mesra before?”

Yuer shook his head, “No, I have never been to Mesra. All that I know about your home was what books have told me.”

During his first two years of ignorant bliss in the palace, Yuer was tutored upon the presumption that he would be the next Rezna of the Empire. Hence, he was obliged to learn diplomatic relations, the continent’s history and the foreign languages and customs of the many annexed territories of Sema, among of which was Mesra.

He stared at Hasha and softly asked, “You miss it, don’t you? Your home and your people.”

Hasha snorted, “What land? And what people? You mean the land your Rezas burned to the ground or the people he slaughtered in the thousands? Or do you mean our temples that his army toppled to nothing not leaving behind a single stone?” The Mesrin redhead lifted her head up, her slightly misted eyes boring into the sky, “Mesra is no more.”

“What a pity,” muttered Yuer.

Hasha wiped at the corners of her eyes. Tears and blood smeared equally on her thin threadbare sleeves. She composed herself before returning the same question, “What about you? What’s your name?”

“Yuer.”

“Does it mean anything?”

A thin smile with a hint of self-deprecation painted itself across Yuer’s lips, “Does it have to mean something? But then, even it did. It wouldn’t dream of being as beautiful and as meaningful as yours.”

Hasha frowned, “Does that mean it has no meaning? How can names have no meaning? Do the Semani care so little for their children’s names?”

Yuer chuckled bitterly, “I suppose it matters not, whether my name has meaning or not. A mere name is of so very little consequence in the grand scheme of things.”

Hasha knitted her fiery-red eyebrows, “You are weird…Yuer.”

The youth laughed, and it was a genuine, open cackle. A first for him in this lifetime, “I suppose I am. A weird man.”

The redhead grumbled, “Man? What man? Some of my cousins’ arms are bigger than your entire body. Scrawny kid says he is a man. So weird.”

Yuer fought to hold in another bout of laughter that wanted to burst out of his mouth. “Alright. You do have a point there and what about you, how old are you, oh strong and mighty Mesrin warrior woman?”

Hasha mused, “My coming of age was two winters ago, so I think seventeen winters old?”

Yuer raised an eyebrow, “So you are basically a little girl still. I wouldn’t have guessed it with you being caked under all that filth and dirt.”

“What little girl? I am no little girl!” huffed the redhead. “I have yet to have my Trials. I mean…” Hasha flattered as it dawned on her with her home being destroyed and gone, she would never get to experience what many of her fellow Mesrin did.

Yuer noticed her change of mood and understand the reason behind it. After all, Hasha was but a girl who had yet to come to grips with the loss of her homeland, her family and everything she had long known. So instead of letting her wallow up in the ensuing abject misery, he pulled her mind out of such thoughts by pointing at the familiar carriage parked next to a corner on the side street of the Merchant District, “That’s our ride. Come on.”

Yuer and Hasha jogged towards their mode of transport. The pair used the stool the driver laid for them to hop on the carriage and each went to settle into different seats. Sakina saluted Yuer with a bowed head. She then swept her gaze over the stranger’s bloodied face, filthy rags and smelly, matted red hair. Every fiber of her neatness-appreciative body internally cringed at the overwhelming stench exuding from this person.

Sakina started to unconsciously calculate the amount of water buckets she would need to heat in order to scrub this person back into a human being. She glanced at the little silent Valquari boy, and thought, yes this one needs a bath too. So does young master and …so do I me.

Sakina sighed as she realized she would probably spend the rest of the day heating water.

Yuer looked at the play of various expressions on Sakina’s face, bemused by where her thoughts likely went. He then slid open the little window and said to the driver, “Final stop, Ayaseen residence.”

He was about to turn in his seat when he felt something tagging at his cloak. He looked down and found himself staring into deep, unfathomable pools of black.

“You want to come up?” Yuer asked the little boy.

The boy nodded. The youth helped the child up and seated him next to him. The white-haired child, however, didn’t seem satisfied. He used his bony little arms and knees to crawl across the space between him and Yuer, finally tucking himself inside the older youth’s heavy autumn cloak. Yuer smiled gently at the boy, and softly caressed his snow-colored mop. He then leaned over and whispered to the child, “You can close your eyes and rest a bit. You are safe now.”

The little Valquari boy clenched his small hand around Yuer’s long black tunic and slowly drifted into seamless sleep for the very first time since the day his mother sold him to that scary and big one-eyed man with the very rough and cold hands.