Obi’s stubby little body felt beaten and bruised. It had been hours of heavy hard work but once the Goldfish entered the port of Rhumm it was all worth it. The poor ship like all its fellow contestants had to acclimatise to the new climate, the wood creaking and expanding with the heavy moisture of the air. This made oiling a crucial task so the wood would not break from becoming too big for its frame or crack once the ship returned to the dry open skies. But this was only one of multiple unique challenges the Tropicaz had to offer.

Now the ship was properly oiled, the sails rolled up and covered, and the crew had spent the day in celebration as they had arrived with the third best time on the Central to Rhumm route, which would mean that they would get to leave early and ride on the morning breeze.

As per usual Obi woke up sometime just before daybreak. Quickly he turned over in his hammock to lace his boots with a broad smile of excitement that penetrated through his painful sores. The Goldfish might leave early but not so early that he would miss the first reading at the coffee pavilion.

“Up and about like usual I see. You really can sleep through anything Obi.”

Iffa laid in his hammock and spoke with a low voice. All around the sailors were writhing and yawning.

"Morning. Why is everyone awake?"

"Take a second and listen."

Obi focused on the sounds. The constant rhythmic pitter-patter and drip from the rain. Low humming buzz from thousands of insects. Squawking birds and roaring monkeys.

"I guess it's a little noisy."

"Hm. Now get out of here. You had a date and maybe some of us can get some sleep now that one of the noisemakers is going."

Obi gave his brother a friendly pat and Iffa turned around and nuzzled into his sailor's bed.

Before heading out Obi did a last check of his person. His coin pouch strapped and secured to his sash. Time Seed hanging around his neck, a seed about the size of Obi’s pinkie finger of a dark purple colour with about one third a dusty yellow and slowly growing. Obi was not taking any chances and would make sure to be punctual. It would not be good for either his health or ego if he were to be degraded to monkey boy again. Lastly, he combed through his hair, it was an absolute mess. It felt like a fluffy sponge that would not yield to his claws.

“Go already you’ll look like a Camel’s ass either way.” Iffa muttered to which Obi only saluted and scurried outside.

Rhumm was like a city taken out of a fairy tale. The night mist providing a background for the majestic old world stone temples that all survived the destruction of Gaia. Tall, layered pagodas filled to the brim of weathered down animal statues. Water trickled down in exposed gutters running along endless moss bitten stairs where tiny lizards played. Rhumm felt like a piece of the jungle, lush, ancient, mysterious, and so unlike anywhere else in Zephyr.

Spying out over the rooftops Obi spotted a mob of monkeys making their rounds, making note to stay out of their way. It was a bit more difficult looking for a pink belltower with the mist and all the competing towers. It turned out to be easier to follow some other sailors heading out from their ships to also enjoy some coffee. Staying at a respectable distance Obi followed along and soon found the pale pink choir house and the neighbouring coffee pavilion with a comfortable amount of time to spare before the hour would strike for the performance.

Stepping inside was like entering a jungle temple. Two stone guardian elephants at the narrow entrance, green leaves and bamboo grass creating a thick curtain running along the inside. The smell of vegetation, myrrh, and bitter coffee laid heavy in the air.

Obi was greeted by a coffee maid that motioned for him to wash his hands in a small stream going under the building and then said a “thank you” in a heavily accented way that betrayed the maid most likely did not speak central. Obi thanked the girl in kind and while shaking his hands dry looked around the pavilion to see if he could spot the black featured summoner, but he found nothing but a myriad of tired sailors and with the expensive centre tables all left open.

The room was heavy with incense smoke, lanterns and vines peeking down from the ceiling. Around the walls foliage peaked in through little slits of windows and more bambu were prompted in simple clay vases. On the notice cabinet the results of the first relay of the race stood announced together with betting sums, Obi smiled at the generous sum next to the Goldfish notings, a lot of people had their hopes for his crew.

Obi took a seat, rolling his bruised shoulders and biting down the pain of putting down his coins. He would be in some serious trouble if he kept spending so frivolously. For the moment Obi began snacking on a platter of exotic fruits to eat down the anxiety. No pistachio moons were served but coffee and honeyed bananas were not too bad either. He sipped and listened to the conversations of the maids in that rapid soft language sounding like fluttering butterfly wings. Luckily the signals to order were universal across the empire so he could simply be fascinated by it and reminisce about his own mother tongue. It had been so long since he had spoken that language that rooted from the back of the throat.

For a while Obi stayed snacking on what was on offer while enjoying the scenery and musing over language, checking the time periodically until a small bell was sounded calling to everyone’s attention.

"Eloquere Risha will now be taking the stage. This morning's reading; Black Kites, a poem by Empress Aznatsiji II."

Two huge fans of leaves moved and out of the smoke the muscular, bespeckled, lady Risha made her way. Her lips painted black and the rings holding her veil on her bullhorns softly clinked at each step. She looked focused straight ahead, holding her head high, completely ignoring the chattering sailors. The one major difference Obi spotted was that she wore one less layer to her dress and her hair was tied up in a spireling black headscarf.

Risha sat down and began with a series of quick drum beats and sang three dawning notes.

“To protect my precious you

I shall eclipse the tyrant sun

In exchange for the sacrifice

I shall offer this shade”

Dum-de-dum, Risha beat the drum, moving her body with a light sway. Her voice was determined, clear, a perfect Central accent. The music and words transported Obi to an unforgiving land of dry winds where only a lone kite foolishly headed for the sky.

“Before We, your courage becomes a disaster

Burning away your wooden bones”

The strong voice of the sun, balancing annoyance and encouragement.

“To protect my precious land

I shall soar even higher

And relief these barren vaists

I shall conquer the sky!”

Dum-de-dum. Dum-de-drr.

“Before We, you seek the impossible

And challenge the celestial might

A kiss of cinder may let your heart find inevitable rest”

“As the sky finds no end

Dreams comes back, again and again

To this land I love

I offer my blessing

I offer the night”

“And so the cycle continues“

Like a spell the smokey room seemed to clear. Risha breathed rapidly, taking a napkin to carefully dap her forehead. To not be too obvious of his staring, Obi turned to his cup of coffee, now lukewarm. His heart pounded. He liked the poem, dramatic yet elegant, but he had no clue what it was about. Did the kite just fly up and die? What about Risha’s dress and mannerisms, how did they play into this? Obi’s had spunn as he tried to find some sense and think away the feeling of being left out and having missed the point.

“I still believe it is an odd choice for a morning poem. The words are not that poetic or image provoking, it requires a lot of work from the eloquere to shine.”

Obi spit out his coffee. Across the table sat Anas’almar, with a snake of a smile. His head and right side of his face wrapped up in a green shal and with a weather worn cloak over his shoulders.

“Greetings Obi. Did I startle you, my friend?”

“When did you get here, and why do you look like a poor war veteran?”

“I breezed in during the procession, as for my dress I am in disguise.”

Obi raised his brows while doing his best to clean up his mess, confused and happy to see the summoner. So flustered was Obi that he did not notice Risha taking a seat at the table and once again his heart jumped out of his chest in surprise.

“Good mornin’ gentlemen. I’m happy ya both made it.”

“Morning, morning!”

“Greetings Risha. I am happy I could make it. How has the Tropicaz been treating you?”

“I was gonna ask ya tha same. Could not for the life of me get my hair to yield. It’s just too humid, so I did some costume changes. Feathers not holding up?”

“Something like that. But look at poor Obi, hair like a bird's nest and palms red and raw. May I inquire as to your position on your ship?”

“We are a small crew so most of us do a bit of everything but technically I’m the second helmsman, though I yesterday they thought it be funny to make me somewhat of a slave. I swear they boss me around only because I’m short.”

Obi huffed and took another slice of glazed banana.

“Hope your hands won’t be a problem. There’s still so far tha go.”

Risha casually took Obi’s hand for inspection, the black claws whittled down and the rough skin flaking up with little blisters.

“It’s fine. My shoulder’s might become a real pain.” Obi responded nonchalantly, noting how hardy Risha’s own hands were.

“If you do not mind I would like to ask what you thought of the poem Obi, since you were so enthusiastic about it last we spoke.”

“Well, I did not understand much of it, but I really liked the feeling of listening to it. The voices, the beat, the whole deal about the sun and shade, reminded me right of the red desert near my hometown. Empty yet somehow majestic and poetic. But did the kite really just fly up and die?”

Risha smiled warmly and put her hands back in her lap. Obi thought he spotted a hint of a blush in the low light of the jungle pavilion.

“Thank ya for ya kind words. I was a bit irritated since the sailors were chatting and being rude, but I’m glad it did not show on my voice. As for the kite, do not worry Obi. It’s a metaphor for the cycle of night and day. Or that’s one reading of it.”

Before anyone could add a response white light flashed and thunder boomed uncomfortably close. For a beat the whole pavilion turned silent before the patrons began chatting loudly.

“Odd. Tha weather should be at its most stable this time of year. I’ve never heard of there being lightning during tha rainbow festival.”

“Maybe it’s a one time thing. Ramuh keeping us on our toes!”

Right as Obi said the words the sky rumbled and another strike of lightning hit farther inland.

Sailors began to curse and worry for the race. The coffee maids looked at one another with unease.

“This can’t be tha work of Ramuh. Tha girls say the aeon has never behaved like this.”

“You two stay here. I will go outside and see if this might be the work of an attacking forgine aeon.”

“I’m not going ta sit here and worry. I’m coming with ya.”

Obi could not think of a response but followed the other two outside. Quickly he checked his time seed, about twenty minutes until he would reach the deadline he had set for himself to leave, and then another forty minutes before liftoff. It did not look good with the howling winds and rolling drums of thunder. Nothing about this boded well.

“Ya see anythin’ Anas?”

Risha shouted. Rain fell down like whips against their faces, the wind tearing at their clothes. Water rushed like waterfalls down all the little canals and dripped from the pagodas.

“No. Nothing. And I can’t sense anything without my staff either. Such a fool I’ve been.”

“No time for self pity! What should we do, summoner?”

Obi climbed up on the guardian elephants and onto the roof, focused his keen eyes, now without the mist he could see all the way to the fabled red bathhouse and the royal palace garden ships hovering nearby. Above sparks of white and blue appeared among the grey clouds. In the shadows of the light he thought he spotted the shape of a horse, the rolling thunder coming from it’s mad galloping across the archipelago.

“I see something! A horse! A lightning horse!”

“A horse. Are you sure?” Anas’almar shouted back up to Obi in disbelief.

“Ya know them.” Risha grimly stated. One in turn it dawned on each of them on who they were dealing with.

“Ixion. The tempest Unicorn.”

But there was also something else, on a closer look Obi spotted something oily and black and falling right towards him. Obi rolled off the roof and heard a wet splatter behind him, immediately freezing the roof and spreading an odour of sickening decay.

“Did you see that! I think it fell off the Unicron!”

“We must get to the garden ships so I can get my staff and perhaps figure out how to deal with Ixion. As for the black stuff I have never even heard of anything like it. We will also need to start prayers to invoke the local aeon.”

“Then we have a plan. I will escort Anas to the ship. I was taught yesterday all tha routes around town an’ you seem to need help to see in this weather. Obi you go around and try to get everyone in prayer. I trust ya.”

Obi nodded confidently without really knowing what he just signed up for and the other two plunged themselves hand in hand out into the thunderstorm. An icicle fell right beside Obi’s feet and he looked in horror for a moment at the icy roof. He would have to trust the others would find a way to deal with whatever was going on, for now he had a mission and he would try his best the competition and time be damned.