Vedek

Vedek looked up at the statue of the Four Seasonal Lords and Ladies. The most powerful Archfaer of Faehome Realm, Lughron, the King of all Fae, Lord of Spring, Master of All Arts, and Vedek’s most distant ancestor (allegedly), looked back at him. In Fae’Riam, statues of the Spring Lord were made of polished granite and decorated with laurels of local flora. Here in Sráid, the statue was small and made from stone dredged from the mine. It stood on a podium adjacent to the other Seasonal Faer. To the left of Lughron was Lady Áine, the Queen of Summer and the King Breaker. Her statue had the most upkeep of the four, perhaps because of the Wests’ association with summer. Then there were the mercurial rulers of autumn and winter: The nameless Widower Prince, and the form changing Sorrow Bheur.

Perhaps it was because of Sráid’s status outside the domain of Fae that the ancestors were depicted so simply. These statues were made for the gesture rather than the reverence. The Archfaer weren’t gods, they were Archfaer, and had little influence this far from the Clover Path. Still, it was comforting to see them.

This was a quiet place behind the Keep. A small hill speckled with white wildflowers that swayed in the wind. Vedek felt peaceful here. It was an extension of the feelings he had been coping with since Fellior had told him he could stay in Sráid. Tonight would be the banquet celebrating Odile’s return, as well as the heroes who brought her home. Vedek had already negotiated with Fellior to keep the public eye off of him. Fellior didn’t feel any better about putting attention on Azeroth. Orcs were an oddity to Athshinians, but to Elves they were a known enemy. Frost would have to bear the brunt of the praise, which he would gladly accept.

Frost had healed considerably and was free to move beyond the confines of the Azmur temple. He was pleased to walk around a city where people were excited to see him. The news of the wound he had taken rescuing the princess had traveled far and earned him free food and other services wherever he walked. When Vedek returned to the Keep courtyard he found Azeroth and Frost sharing a loaf of fresh bread paired with a wedge of goat cheese. Frost now sported a leather vest that exposed the bandages applied by cleric Alb. Azeroth had stripped himself of most of the clothing given to him by the King, reducing the outfit down to a white shirt too large for him and brown pants too small for him. The proportions of Orcs were hard to match to an Elf. The duo sat in the center on a pair of barrels as the castle staff moved around them setting decorations and tables for the public banquet.

“I feel like I’m visiting a zoo.” Vedek’s ears caught the idle prattle of a trio of guards stationed on the wall near him. “First the cow-woman, and now these two? I know they brought home the Princess, but…”

“Not if you listen to what Kelmin says.” Spoke the second guard. Vedek recognized it as the voice of the archer Ross. She sounded tired from her night watch and yawned after speaking.

“What’s Kelmin saying?”

Vedek couldn’t resist cocking his head towards the guards. They were pressed tight together. Only Ross had her bow slung around her shoulders. She immediately caught Vedek spying and clammed up. Vedek tisked and moved to his companions.

“Tension in the air.” Azeroth slurped down a mug of water. “At least the water is clean.”

“Azeroth feels like something bad is going to happen.” Frost perked up when he saw Vedek. He had a collection of cheese crumbs dangling from the hairs on his chin.

“Perhaps it is the feeling of being an orc amongst elves and fae.” Vedek offered.

Azeroth started to shake his head, but paused as he thought it over. “Maybe. Never been ‘amongst elves and fae.’ I’m not from the Hordelands, remember? I feel like something is clinging to the back of my head, and if I try to squash it I’ll only end up hitting myself.”

Vedek looked back to Ross, but she had moved on. The other two guards were now watching the maidens set up a maypole. “Then perhaps we should get out of the Keep until the feeling passes.”

“Not worth it. The tension is in the air, and the town is downwind. I’m going to take another bath.” Azeroth got off his barrel. Without confirmation from Vedek or Frost, he walked to the keep doors.

“Do it inside this time!” Vedek shouted after him. Azeroth didn’t look back, but he did shrug.

“I am all for going into town. One of the shopkeepers said they’d give me a bottle of wine. I’ve never had wine before.” Frost scooped the last of the bread and cheese, intent to eat as they walked. The prospect of drinking fae wine, as well as seeing Frost drink it, was enough for Vedek to leave the Keep.

Sráid was shaped like a cross. The residential areas for the miners were set up in the arms for easy access to the Twinned Hills. The bottom of the cross held a market for the farms beyond. There was less exotic merchandise than in Ramuf, but the produce was much fresher. Closer to the edges was where one could see the damage from the sieges the city had faced. Houses were damaged or destroyed entirely. Vedek was told that only one of the attacks reached the city limits, eventually repelled by Kelmin taking command of the city guard mixing fae defenses with coatlmade tactics. Smaller raids occurred in the farmlands where bandits had set fields ablaze. In such a vibrant city, the ruined sections stood out when seen from a high vantage point.

Outside the Keep, the top of the cross, was a collection of taverns, feasting halls, and temples. There were three large temples. One for the Grand Pantheon, a second smaller one for old Tuatha gods, and a third for Divines only known to Athshin. The sight of the final temple confirmed to Vedek just how detached from Fae’Riam Sráid was. In Fae’Riam the Grand Pantheon were the only temples you would find in most cities. Tuatha worship favored remote places. The kind one must seek out and make pilgrimage to. Seeing stained glass showing the battle of the Moon Sisters within a stone’s throw of a statue of the Athshin crafting beast Alebrije gave Vedek a strange feeling, the same he felt when he looked upon the statue of Lughron. Sráid was dotted with familiar sights, yet they were all slightly off from what he had known all his life. An uncanny familiarity.

Vedek wasn’t sure what tension Azeroth was feeling. In town the atmosphere was much lighter. The miners were given a reprieve from their duties to enjoy the various micro-banquets being served before the main one. Musicians joined together to play folk songs and keep spirits high.

“Her eyes gave me peter’s salt,

Her sway gave me sulfur,

The way she sang, so sweet, gave me a bite of charcoal.

Mix it all to-gether, and she filled me up with gunpowder.

And when I’m full of gunpowder all I need is a spark.

When I’m full of gunpowder all I need is a spark!”

Vedek didn’t know that song. The miners singing it did so with intensity. It must have been a favorite of theirs because once it was finished they did it over with the same joy as before. Frost clapped his furry palms to the music. The miners recognized Frost and pulled him in to dance with them. Vedek feared a prank, but they seemed genuine enough. He still kept an eye on Frost, but moved to the table to claim one of the wine glasses. The plump tuatha in charge of the bottles wore a server’s cap that concealed her platinum hair, save for a single stray curl that hid her right eye.

“Haven’t seen you before. I’d wager three silver that you’re handsome under that mask. Are you friends with the wolf?” She batted her eyelashes at Vedek. She was pretty and confident, but too young for Vedek to reciprocate. He pointed to the bottle of red wine behind her. She obliged him and poured what was likely a bit more than she was willing to give the miners.

“Quite a fervor.” Vedek remarked, gesturing to the singers and dancers.

“Not everyday we get to celebrate a princess being rescued,” the woman cooed. “I think it's redemption for all we suffered this month. Attacks from all sorts, trying to take advantage of the King’s sorrow. First the stray bandit clans, then Cactus Cascada in the west. That assault lasted two days. Bless the soldiers and Ambassador Kelmin.”

“Does Sráid lack allies?” Vedek sipped the wine. It was a bit more sour than he was used to. He blamed his royal pallet.

“None that like us for more than our silver, but I hear that the King had to divert shipments to pay for his daughter’s ransom. My brother is in the guard. They tried to follow the shipments, but the kidnappers kept changing the drop-off point. If they were followed, the kidnappers would kill whoever was delivering the shipments. Last week we held a mass to the Divine Bimini to bring the Princess home safely. The Princess was blessed by Bimini on the day of her birth. It rained sweet water in the middle of summer. That’s why she’s so wise beyond her years. We thought if any Divine would watch out for the princess, it would be them.”

Vedek listened to the woman speak, nodding along with what she said and requesting refills when his glass was empty. As if summoned by Bimini’s name, a youth bounded into the area. He rushed to one of the miners, his father, and eagerly asked for coins. When asked why he was so excited, the boy said a pair of tecuani peddlars had just arrived. Frost almost fell over himself rushing to the child to ask where. The boy said he would only tell if Frost gave him money, which Frost did. Vedek paid a tip to the wine girl before following Frost and the boy down the main street.

They had to dodge horse drawn carts laden with food heading for the keep. Shops were celebrating the banquet by offering discounted merchandise, creating crowds that pressed themselves to the windows to see inside. The boy was small enough to weave through the gaps in the adults. Frost, wishing to keep up, cut himself a path by never deviating and forcing the foot traffic to move around him. Vedek lost sight of the two as they were swallowed by the crowds. One of the houses had a deep slanted roof that came low enough that he could climb on top of it. From this higher position he could see Frost’s large form moving through the sea of thin bodies. Rather than risk the crowd again, Vedek moved from roof to roof. It was easy to do, given how clustered the buildings were and how trained he was to move through forest trees. He waved to the people below to assure he was no prowler. The citizens of Sráid were in such high spirits that they cheered him on as he hopped across the roofs of their city.

When they had cleared the bulk of the crowd Vedek dropped beside Frost, a bit out of breath as it had been decades since he had moved so nimbly. Frost acted like Vedek had been walking beside him the entire time. “Pardon my asking, but what’s so important about seeing some tecuani?”

“Those are my western cousins! The jaguars of the jungle. For as long as I’ve been in Athshin I have yet to see a single hair of them. Think of the thrill you must have felt seeing this city of your kin. That is the excitement I’m feeling right now.” Frost couldn’t keep his hands still. The more worked up he got the closer he came to fully shifting.

Vedek looked back at the keep. From where he stood it was framed perfectly by the mountains that flanked it. The Twinned Hills were far wider than they were tall. What captivated Vedek was their oddly perfect triangular shape. He felt he could tell time like a sundial from their shadows. If his assumption was correct then it was past four. The main banquet was to be held as the sun set. With clear skies like today, it was sure to be a stunning sight.

Frost charged again. They were within sight of the tecuani. It was just a pair of them with a hand-pulled covered wagon. Necklaces hung from the wagon’s rafters which clattered as the wagon lurched across the uneven dirt road. On the wagon’s bed were a collection of crafts and textiles of Tecuani tradition. Jade statuettes of tecuani dancers and obsidian knives that seemed sharp enough to cut on sight alone made the bulk of the items.

The miner’s son reached the cart first and immediately exchanged Frost’s money for a toy shaped like a possum that he could hang from his finger. The child was delighted, but his joy had no effect on the sellers. They were much leaner than Frost with incredibly rounded features. The short fur covering their body was sleek and glinted like glossy polish. They wore very little beyond a sash-like loincloth and a cape that covered their chest and back while leaving the arms free to move in all directions. The clothes weren’t dyed and looked like they had been made from fibers of agave cacti that populated this section of Athshin.

“Greetings to one of my selves” Frost bowed to the two tecuani. The tecuani looked skeptically to each other. Their puzzlement matched Frost’s enthusiasm in intensity. Frost’s excitement faltered when they did not respond. “That is the Tecuani greeting, correct?”

“It is…” The taller of the two spoke. His voice was surprisingly deep given his thin frame. “I think my brother and I were not expecting to be greeted in the traditional way so far from the jungle. It sounds foreign coming from a stranger.”

The second tecuani, distinguished by a notch in his right ear, circled Frost, sizing him up. “You are well fed for a Rocksitter.”

The younger brother had a higher voice and stretched the final syllable of his sentences.

Now it was Frost’s turn to circle the brothers, he sniffed deeply as he walked. “I am not a Rocksitter. I come from the far east. Mine is the Wildoathed of the pine forests.”

“So you are a true amarok.” the older tecuani seemed quite surprised. “Strange. We have never met another Nahual other than the coyote Rocksitters.”

“What about the Evaki at the continent’s edge?” Frost inquired. The older brother laughed, the younger joining him. In their laughter they flashed their long canines that reminded Vedek of the teeth of the glatisant.

“You think we travel that far south? We sell our crafts to the cities nearest the jungle, then we return to the jungle.”

The younger tecuani pointed at Vedek. “Something you wish to buy? We have wares if you have coin.”

Vedek was allowing Frost to have his moment, but he did step forward so that he could busy himself examining the crafts.

Frost was not expecting the first tecuani he met to be so standoffish. “May I at least ask some questions? If it is so rare for our two breeds to meet, then we must exchange information.”

The two brothers looked to each other again, then they looked to Sráid’s Keep in unison. Finally, their eyes went back to Frost. “A few questions to satisfy your curiosity, but we are not the ones you want to ask about culture.”

“Could I know your names? Your tribe?” Frost perked up again. It took longer than it should have for the tecuani to answer. Vedek raised his eyes. Once more the brothers looked to each other, then the keep, then Frost.

The older brother spoke for the two. “I am Chamela, my brother is Cuixmala. We come from They-Who-Look-Down.”

Anticipating Frost’s next question the younger tecuani, Cuixmala, spoke quickly. “The tribe is named that because they climb the highest trees in the jungle. The Permanents of the tribe never touch the ground.”

“Your feet are touching the ground.” Vedek remarked, not looking up from the two knives he was comparing.

“We’re not Permanents. Tecuani tribes are fluid. Tecuani can move to whichever tribe they please. If it suits them, they’ll stay.”

“What about family?” Frost put his hands on his hips. Further up the street more children were coming to buy treasures.

“What about family?” Cuixmala dryly returned. This seemed to offend Frost most of all. Chamela spoke next. “I travel with my brother. Together we have been a part of three tribes, but we are bound by something other than relation.”

He grabbed the handles of the wagon, finally continuing their route further into the city. “Family doesn’t matter to the Tecuani. We are all family through the Spirits, yes? That is why we greet each other by acknowledging that we are all extensions of the same life. The First Life.”

Frost had to think about that concept in silence. Vedek decided which of the two knives he’d rather have. Once he paid for the knife he waited expectantly for a sheath.

“What do you need a sheath for?” Cuixmala laughed, showing his canines again.

“So I don’t cut myself?” Vedek felt the answer would be obvious.

Without asking, Cuixmala took the knife from Vedek. He proceeded to toss the knife to himself in increasingly elaborate twists that required deft hand movement to manage. Vedek was baffled by the sudden display of dexterity. Chamela was annoyed with his brother’s grandstanding, but did not stop him.

When he was done, Cuixmala smugly handed the knife back to Vedek. “If I can do that and not get cut, then you can wear it on your hip and not get cut.”

The group of children reached the wagon. Cuixmala and Chamela were too absorbed in their business to be answering more of Frost’s questions. Vedek had to take Frost by the arm before the wecher would leave the brothers to their work.

“Not what you expected?” Vedek guessed.

“No. I’m not sure what I expected. Kinship? Hard to experience that with a breed that doesn’t believe in family.” Frost sighed. He looked wistfully to the two tecuani. Both were deliberately ignoring him.

Vedek patted Frost’s back. “Perhaps they will be in better moods during the feast.”

This gave Frost hope. Vedek looked back to the peddlers. He attempted the knife maneuver Cuixmala had done, but dropped the knife partway through. A ball of blood blossomed on his thumb. Vedek dabbed the wound on his lips. Tecuani or no, there was something unnerving about peddlers that could move like that.