Chapter 241: Book 4-13.2: A Conversation

The foreign Elder’s question nearly froze Otlaca’s blood. He couldn’t help but pause while looking at her from behind the transparent nictitating membranes that covered his eyes.

Yuriko of the Davar was an odd woman, he decided.

They’d spent the past couple of hours talking over dinner and he wasn’t sure if she was just naive or incredibly astute. As few people ever reached her level of power with any kind of innocence, he leaned towards the latter conclusion.

Beginning with her heat profile, she was quite the enigma.

Snakekin have the ability to sense heat, much like their lesser cousins, though most younglings rarely exercised the gland, leading to atrophy. As such, he could see her profile through her shabby clothing and what he saw both fascinated and horrified him.

Her heat profile was uniform, completely and utterly uniform. She controlled her internal temperature to such a degree that he couldn't guess her emotions. But the funny thing was her facial expressions practically gave it away anyway. Though she generally appeared cold and controlled, there were minor shifts that were quite telling.

She reacted with indifference when he mentioned the worth of Ivory. Mild concern when the subject of Vizugmon’s monopoly of Ivory and annoyance when he mentioned anything about Geists.

Unlike his peers, Otlaca had travelled beyond the Bella plane in his youth. He had encountered Verdanians before and even knew how to speak their language. They didn’t speak it now, favouring the Wojan tongue. As a result, it was a challenge for him to understand her, given her horrendous grammar and accent in addition to his lack of knowledge of the language. He needed to be careful not to misinterpret her words.

Simply put, all she wanted to do was to get out of the Labyrinth, and out of Bella plane. Her story of how she wound up here was fantastically unreal. Beneath the Labyrinth was another plane? Nobody had known of it. Nobody had travelled deep enough to come out of the other side. It didn’t help that somewhere below, Delvers would inevitably ran into the Tidelands.

The Labyrinth’s Tidelands were far more dangerous than the ones found on the surface. Few ever came back, and those that did spoke of horrors even as their minds shuddered and died.

To think that not only has she come up through the Labyrinth, but had been to its base! The Kogasi plane sounded wondrous; one could hunt for Ivory and be rewarded instead of having to scramble and contest for the meagre amount available during the Beast Tides.

But he’d let his mind wander.

“We cannot let the work of years be unravelled by unfortunate encounters,” he said evenly.

“Years. So in all those years you attacked and killed any who came upon your camp?”

She casually took a sip of the wine. Her cheeks flushed a charming red, though it quickly receded. The longer he looked at her, the stronger the compulsive admiration. He was a completely different species, with vastly different tastes, not to mention his advanced age. But Ancestors help him, he suddenly wished he was just a decade younger. Well, two.

He looked away from her enthralling visage, taking a sip of wine as the excuse to break eye contact.

“Some we have, unfortunately, but the numbers aren’t high. It was only this year that we’ve taken direct action to channel the Tide towards Lucenti.”

“You accepted surrender?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitating.

They did accept the surrender, but more often than not, they dropped the prisoners into one of the numerous shafts that eventually led to the Tidelands. But there was no need to say that. Besides, most of the need for such things had passed after they’d accomplished their goals. This year would be the year Vizugmon City lost.

She eyed him doubtfully but didn’t comment further, to his relief.

“The cats rarely surrendered though,” he added regretfully. “They’d rather fight to the last. Pride.” He snorted., “The cats have too much of it.”

She snorted as well. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve only met Masa in all my time here.”

“Ah, the half-breed.” Otlaca shuddered. “Forgive me, but the very idea makes me uncomfortable.”

“Oh, why?”

“Forgive me--it just doesn’t feel natural.” He raised his cup. “But I do understand. Many humans are more accepting of the catkin. Not so of my clan.”

She fell into deep thought while he wet his lips. Throughout the entire dinner, Yuriko had kept her posture, aside from a few minor shifts. Excellent control. Everything about her screamed at his instincts. Don’t try to fight, otherwise, prepare for death.

Coupled with her enthralling appearance, it made for quite the confusing mix of emotions.

He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of Elders in Lucenti. The Vizugmon Elders were more numerous because of Ivory, but it was no more than two or three times what Lucenti and Viterra City of the north. As for the Reviled’s Grieford City, there were no Elders there.

Sadly, there had been no Patriarch or Matriarch level Geist in the past five hundred years.

He had to find a way to rope her in. There would be a reckoning soon, after centuries of oppression. The Council of Vizugmon had grown lazy and corrupt, more intent on luxuries than power.

He knew that they’d been selling Ivory to Tiath City to the west in exchange for gold, jade, wines, and spices. Or Quills. The scent of burning Quills left a foul taste on Otlaca’s tongue the last time he visited that blighted city. Sure, it was confined to their lower quarter but for such an insidious…spice to have taken over all of the taverns and shops…

He shook his head and the act caught Yuriko’s eyes. She arched an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Nothing just lost in thoughts.” He laughed.

“Hmmm. Then, I’ve a question for you.” She nodded. “Tell me of the Reviled.”

“Huh, what about them?”

“Masa told me that the Reviled are exiles and criminals, yet your city doesn’t seem to find working with them repugnant.”

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“Ah.”

Otlaca rubbed his thumb against a scar on his left wrist. It was an old injury and the scale never really grew back. His sleeping Geist stirred at the act; memories of that battle haunted his nightmares.

“The Griefordians are victims of political games.” He shrugged. “A lot of them were simply born there. While it is true that the origin of Grieford City is rooted in exiled prisoners, that was more than a hundred years ago. The original inhabitants have long since died.”

“Then why does Masa speak of them with such distaste?”

“Well,” Otlaca hemmed, “you must understand that Grieford is located in a rather unfortunate terrain. It is mostly desert, barren mountains, with little fresh water. They’ve supplemented their livelihoods with a little privateering, but who can blame them? Grieford was initially a collection of three or four settlements, one from each city-state. They’ve long since banded together. Huh,” He grinned, “they’re actually a wonderful example of how people in adversity will inevitably work for the benefit of all. The Griefordians are a tight-knit group, even if they are of different races and species.”

Yuriko nodded contemplatively but didn’t comment further. He was unsure what to do to entice her to their cause, but…hmmm.

“There are two ways out of the Bella plane. Two ports that foreign merchants frequent anyway.”

“Oh?”

He certainly had her interest now. He grinned.

“Merchants arrive once a year in Viterra City up north and Tiath City in the west. Unfortunately, you’ve already missed the chance this year and it won’t be until next year before they come again.”

“What?” she gasped. “I have to wait another year?”

“Perhaps there might be a stray caravan,” Otlaca shrugged, “but I wouldn’t count on it. Ah, and most merchants ask for an arm and a leg for a passenger’s berth.”

“Huh,” Yuriko muttered as she leaned forward. “And how much would it be?”

“My last trip cost me a hundred thousand Denari,” Otlaca chuckled, “and that was to the nearest plane of Egros.”

“Ancestors.” Yuriko muttered. “Where…Ahh!”

“Yes, you’re rather lucky to arrive during the Beast Tide. I, of course, will be willing to buy any you’d care to sell.”

She gave him a sharp look. “Of course you would be. Hmmm. Very well, I’ll consider it.”

“In the meantime,” he continued as he placed his chopsticks on the rest, “I offer you the hospitality of Forgestride Enclave and of Lucenti City after the Beast Tide. I offer you a place in our defences when the Tide comes in earnest, and I offer a guide to the surface once everything is settled here.” He looked at her expectantly.

She picked up the chopsticks that she had placed carelessly inside her bowl and mimicked his act of placing the utensils on the rest. She had clearly never seen chopsticks before but the way she handled using them was superb. If she hadn’t hesitated at the start he would never have known.

She gave him a short bow and said, “Very well, I accept your hospitality.”

Otlaca smiled with his lips, keeping his teeth and fangs hidden. It wasn’t the firmest of commitments, practically nothing honestly, but it was a start. He signalled to one of the attendants who promptly left the tent and brought back his aide-de-camp, Usaza.

“This is Elder Yuriko of the Davar. She is our guest. Please show her to one of the tents so she may rest and refresh herself.” Otlaca said to the white scaled snake-kin. He glanced at the Elder’s clothing and continued, “Deliver a set of soft leathers for her comfort as well.”

He didn’t miss the light of gratitude that flashed in the other’s eyes. Usaza, for her part, had been staring at Yuriko with a slackened jaw.

“Usaza!” Otlaca hissed and the woman jumped.

“Er, yes, commander!” She saluted casually by knuckling her forehead.

“Nice to meet you,” Yuriko said as she stood up. “Thank you for the meal, Otlaca.”

“Oh, you’re so nice,” Usaza gushed. The white snakekin was just a few inches taller than Yuriko, but that was normal. Most Ahas clanners were tall. The L’tik were shorter, while the Buwak were nearly as tall as the Oska clanners if they stood straight.

Usaza, much to Otlaca’s surprise and annoyance, grabbed Yuriko's hand and tugged her along. Didn’t she hear him say Elder Yuriko?! The golden-haired human didn’t seem to mind though. Usaza bubbled with delight and led the other woman out.

The attendants cleared the place setting and Otlaca moved out of the conference tent and headed to his personal tent. There, he wrote down a few words inside a notebook. He sealed it with twine and dropped it in a bin. Sometime tonight, one of their messengers would deliver it to the recipient.

He pondered over the meeting while he shook off the effects of Elder Yuriko’s presence. Even his Geist, a Three-Headed Serpent Lord, had been pacified. Meditation allowed him to see just how his Anima had been affected, and he was startled and alarmed to note the disturbance.

His envisioned Anima was of a garden of sand, calmly raked into wavy patterns. His Geist was settled in the very centre, often asleep, though ready to call should Otlaca’s need arise. The wind touched the sands, altering the patterns, but always, it would return to its initial look.

Now, he could see small dunes instead of an even surface. The winds from the east, and the Radiant Sun baked his Anima. Some grit covered his Geist, who had been half-buried in the sand. It was the work of hours before he managed to smoothen out his Anima. And once it was done, he could feel the lingering attraction wash away.

“Dangerous,” he muttered. He didn’t even feel it until it was too late. He would have to make sure that whoever accompanies her would rotate out frequently.

No, no! That would be foolish. It would only allow her to influence more of his people subtly.

He didn’t know what she was up to. Yuriko had not activated any kind of Animus technique, which meant the enthralling aspect was something inborn. Dangerous, indeed.

But quite possibly, useful. Now the question was how could he take advantage of it?

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