Chapter 11

‘Are you all right?’ Tomga leaned forward in the dusty, dark red armchair and looked at Seroin's leg with concern.

The young woman couldn't stop twitching, her body trembled with a mixture of curiosity and worry. ’How am I supposed to feel here? I feel like a prisoner? Is that how you greet guests out there in the wild, in the old world?’ She waved to the other men in the room.

Tall figures in cold, dull grey steel stood around her. They carried a broad shield, welded together from many small metal squares, the squares merging into a wide wall. A spear rested on their backs, the tip sharp and barbed. The smooth, round helmets hardly allowed a glimpse inside, but Seroin felt all pairs of eyes on her.

Tomga, on the other hand, waved enthusiastically. ‘Prisoners? These are the honour guards and the bodyguards of Lady Olva of the Wooden Surf. In Daumaje, they were considered the most dangerous dragon slayers on the side of Diersa. Their city held out to the end against Iwibu, the dragon of empty skies. The roofs of the city merged into a shield against the eternally lashing fire; they are true heroes! Whenever I saw the famous roof shield of these men, I felt safe!’ He pointed to the shield made of many blocks and beamed.

The guards straightened up a little at his words.

But Seroin leaned forward further, making the wooden stool creak. ‘Why aren't they with their mistress instead of protecting two simple guests? And why are guests received here? In the smallest, dustiest room with only one window? What kind of room is this anyway? And what's that hole in the wall?’

Tomga followed her eyes. ‘The fireplace? You don't know what a fireplace is?’

Seroin shook her head and continued to look at the fireplace in confusion.

‘For heating and for companionship. How many hours I have spent in front of the flames, exchanging thoughts. Life and love take place in front of it.’

The young woman raised an eyebrow. ’You light it? In the house?! And suffocate on the smoke?’

The elf shook his head. ‘No, to make it warm. Smoke rises. Does no one here heat their home with wood and fire?’

‘Street folk burn whatever they can find. Most houses in Badazan have enchanted stone that gives off a steady heat. At least a magical floor. But a fire in the house just like that? Candles, maybe torches. But something like that?’ Seroin looked around the room. “Is that what it looks like out there? Walls made of wood, dull colours. So terribly cramped and dark. And all that dust?’

The knight nodded. ”They don't have much dust in Badazan, eh? It was the first thing I noticed. Your rooms are filled with fresh air. But yes, many houses out there look like this. Here, a hardworking hunter could sit and pray to the Idea of hunting, or to one of its children, perhaps to the mighty Finlora, proud daughter of the hunt. I also see the butcher preparing a tasty stew. Or the grandmothers dyeing linen and chatting happily. In such rooms, I understand the world.’

Seroin approached the tiny window impatiently. Outside, there were wide green fields, countless figures were ploughing them under the beating heat of the sun. ‘The Willow-Quarter. Green spaces in Badazan, it always seemed strange to me. If I had known that there were such houses here... everything here is so...’

‘Venerable?’ The cold woman's voice sounded in the direction of the only door in the room. The lady stood tall, half a head taller than Seroin, but just as slender. Smooth, black hair fell down from her head, with individual grey strands looking like rivers of ash in a sea of ink. Her determined features remained expressionless on Seroin, then the woman looked over at Tomga with her light blue eyes and smiled. Her fine, long dress billowed as she joyfully rushed over to him and flung her arms around his neck. ‘Surrounded by strangers and the mockery of our Ideas. Rarely have I been more pleased to see a familiar face. The scars on your face are like an old work of art, finally to be marvelled at again.’

The knight blushed and bowed, gently stroking his cheek and the countless white lines on it. ‘When I heard that you were here, it was only right that you visit, Lady Olva.’

Olva bowed her head slightly as well and offered her hand, which was quickly kissed by Tomga. Then she gestured to the knight to step aside with a flick of her finger, and took her place on the chair. ‘You there. Get up from your stool and let Knight Balf have the seat. He has a bad war wound on his leg and deserves to sit.’ Olva clicked her heels at Seroin and waved at the small stool under her.

Seroin stood up with a shrug. ‘I took care of that. But your house, your rules.’

The elf looked enthusiastically at Lady Olva. ’It's true, my leg, it's healed. I'm walking like I used to, young and strong. I was jubilant all the way here. The Ideas themselves must have determined this fate. It is good to see you, even if it is in such a strange place. I don't mean to intrude, but I know from many sources that we are both here for similar reasons. Nothing would give me more joy than to strive for a goal and travel back together, having shared the path beautifully.’

Lady Olva stroked her hair, her expression unchanged. ‘I cannot share your joy for your leg. One might think that the Ideas led us here together. Today I had an appointment with high-ranking officials from the Badazan administration, but now I have been cancelled and you are standing at my door. I would have called it a miracle of the Ideas. Until I got to know this city.’ She snapped at the guards. ‘Leave us. Bring us wine and freshly cut cheese. Two men at the door, the rest spread throughout the house. Up.’

When some guards protested and mentioned the protection of Lady Olva, she pointed firmly at the door. ’I know to whom I entrust my life! And I know from whom I would have it taken! So get out and mind your mistress!’

After that announcement, the bodyguard left the room.

‘Miracles of the Ideas. Or planted like poison in wine.’ Olva's eyes shot to Seroin. “You too, Badazanian, out!’

Seroin stood behind Tomga. ”I won't leave his side. It's my business.’

The noblewoman flushed red. ‘You will obey! My blood served under Diersa at the beginning of this world, and we have a duty to guide and mould the lower races. If there is another such rebellion, I will have you whipped. Get out!’

‘A whip? In your delicate, weak hands?’ The click of Seroin's crossbow being released from her belt, already magically cocked, was heard as clearly as a whistle. “Or the men out there? With their rust and sticks?’

Tomga held her hands up in front of the two angry women. ”Please! There's no need for all this! Lady Olva, Seroin has helped me in my quest like no other. She is to be trusted! And Seroin, make no mistake. Those guards out there are the highest elite of warriors.’

Olva fell back into the armchair, a small cloud of dust squeezed out of the cover. ‘From street dogs to my own guard. I trust no one in this city.’

Seroin leaned against the wall again, too. ‘Men in simple steel? Against the magic in my pockets?’ She shook her bag, and a multitude of glass beads clinked together.

The knight sighed in despair. ‘I beg you. I didn't raise my weapon in war so that new strangers would now be just as hostile!’

‘Your trust is a noose in this city,’ Olva leaned forward. “And this city is the noose for the continent of Auervam!’

Reassured, Tomga sat back down on the stool. ”A strange city, a bizarre city, but judging by that, Lady Olva, I don't know...’

The noblewoman hurried to the window and threw it open, staring at the centre of the city. ‘The rest of Auervam heard nothing of this, absolutely nothing. Like a shark beneath the dark wave, this place stalked us. We were all too blind to see it. How many mortals live in the north of Auervam? From the unforgiving, cold Mirror-surfaces in the far north to about the steppes of Rapalo, in all this land, there are about 6 to 7 million mortals. Many of them live in the big cities like the Wooden Surf, Calicedam or Limsonal, but there are just as many in the small villages and in the wilderness.’

Olva pointed to the centre of Badazan, to the Tower of Truth. ‘5.5 million mortals. In this city alone, Tomga. Here alone. 5.5 million. A joy for all of Diersa's existence, really. But here?! You've seen it, must have seen it. They ignore the Ideas and their holy ways, have no king or even a temple. The worship of Diersa is mocked here, perhaps even banned soon!’

‘Mistress. I don't understand…’

‘5.5 million mortals! And what kind of people are they? Not faithful souls, not lost souls. 5.5 million in open rebellion against the Ideas and their will.’ She closed the window and sat back in the armchair. ‘Their fingers reach as far as the east coast, as far as Calicedam. Think, Tomga, open your eyes. All of this, all the ingredients for their perversions. Where did they get them?’

Now the woman looked around, paranoid. ‘We heard it even near us. The men in blue, those inspectors, they showed up and asked so many questions. We saw it happen near a small village of the Ice-elves, a little north of the Wooden Surf. The men in blue asked for it, then demanded it. And when they didn't get it, they said the Arka Ir, the Ice-elves, had attacked them. In the end, there were no more ice-elves and the men in blue mined what they wanted.’

The knight stared at his hands in confusion. ‘But the council? The Council of Conciliators in Calicedam? Isn't that what it's there for, to watch over us, to keep the peace, after the Ideas have left? What does Lady Ferl say about all this?’

Olva snorted. ’Tomga, the council is as always! Kings fight over borders while the children of Ideas allow themselves to be worshipped and celebrated. The council sees the demigods as the highest authority, as the only power here that could make a difference. Meanwhile, this city continues to grow, visiting more and more corners of the continent. The council is powerful, yes, very powerful. It now even includes Zitarr, daughter of lightning.’

Tomga frowned. ‘Zitarr? A powerful lady, I saw her once in war, and her destructive power knows no equal. Has she finally renounced Defala and serves Diersa? Joy!’

‘Joy?! At other times, certainly, but now? How long do you think the council argued and racked their brains over her joining? And in all that time, this city continued to waste away and fall prey to disease!’

The elf shook his head. ‘Mortal beings stick together; that is our gift and our curse. 5.5 million and they don't fight, they don't go to war among themselves? I think that's pretty unlikely. How is this city ever going to reach all your dire suspicions?’

Just then, a colourful light shone through the small window and the blue sky was covered by an illusion. One of the great families of Badazan spoke sweet words through illusion to the workers of the grazing district.

Olva rubbed her temple in annoyance, stormed to the window and drew the curtain across it, leaving the room illuminated only by candlelight. ‘This magic, this disgusting magic! They defy the rules of ideas. Even here, in the fields. They dust the greenery with powder, causing an annual harvest to grow in a month. Imagine all the starving people that can be saved with it. But the city sends nothing out of itself, nothing at all. It's as if they are lurking, wanting to go unnoticed. And even here, some are starving!’

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The lady hit the arm of her chair violently. ‘It's all wrong, this administration of the city. Nobody comes from one of the old houses, nobody has the right blood to rule! Nobody was installed by the Ideas. Very few bear a linage name, which is also a perversion! Such names are distributed by higher families and the children of Ideas, and not just like that! The pack seems to govern itself, disgustingly!’

Suddenly her eyes fell on the curtain in front of the small window again, as if she could sense a hungry monster behind it. ‘It's a war! A war that only one side wages or even perceives, while the other doesn't even sniff it out. A war without direct weapons, without the Ideas behind them. This city is rotting through the continent and everything is in the name of this unnatural progress!’

Her gaze darted to the door. ‘And she's behind it, that Sandevi! Bema Sandevi! She throws her image into the sky like a statue, posing as the saviour of all … growth, as they call it here. Did you hear how the citizens here call each other? The new gods? All because of the Sandevis, the whole family! But especially Bema. Just to see her is a life's work, Diersa herself was easier to reach. This Bema likes to party, give gifts and smile, but behind that I fear something sinister. She throws her eyes on every meeting in and outside the city walls, holding this place hostage, the masses bound by the glorification of this little cylinder! This is no simple, greedy merchant or a lazy king! Its influence reaches further, its goals...’

‘It's just one mortal. How can someone like that stand against the children of the Ideas?’ Tomga tried to share his smile, but Olva grew paler.

‘She was a nobody, should have died as such. In Daumaje, she served under the great Orforir, elf hero from this very city of Badazan.’

‘Loyal servants under Diersa...’

‘Servants whose trade was hunting and killing enemy children of Ideas! Sacrilege, even back then! Mortals that see the superior species as prey? What healthy thoughts could grow out of such a mind? Someone who has done such things no longer dreams small or modestly. She should have disappeared like Orforir!’

Now the elf gently took Olva's hand. ‘My lady. The mortals are the youngest people in this beautiful world of Nali. First the Ideas breathed, then their children and finally we. And though we may all be different, the dwarves, masters of craftsmanship or trade, or the elves, blessed with an almost infinite life and closely tied to nature, we remain mortals at heart. What is that, but youthful defiance against the old parents, as...

Olva jerked her hand away. ‘You think our powers exceed these? You think we simply tolerate Badazan, smile at the perversions from afar? Shall I tell you what the Council of Conciliators really thinks, what Lady Ferl truly feels? Fear. They have nothing but pure panic for all this. Magic not bestowed by the Ideas, but crafted by mortals alone. You think us superior?’

She continued in a heated whisper. ‘It took only a handful, just a filthy handful of those strange metal men, those monsters with steel masks, to face a child of an Idea. They laugh at us, Tomga, laugh. Here they are supposed to hold and humiliate a Valley-harp and a child of an Idea in a place called a zoo!’

Tomga's expression grew colder. ‘What is this place, a zoo?’

Olva stared at him in disbelief and began to giggle sickly. ’A zoo??? Another abomination from this city. They lock up animals, creatures and anything they consider lowly in cages, demanding payment from the people who can gaze at the prey like cows in a stall! Old, venerable creatures are nothing more than entertainment for the masses here. Even a child of Ideas, just locked up there! No enemy that the city takes seriously, but nothing more than a kind of... decoration! Tomga, we are no longer tolerating this city, it seems more like it's barely allowing us to exist!’

Visibly angry, Tomga turned to Seroin.

The young woman clicked her tongue. ‘First of all, I must say that I always thought all this fuss about the zoo was wrong. You've known Badazan for a long time, and people here like to exaggerate.’

Tomga leapt from her stool and seized Seroin. ‘NO MORE LIES! YOU SAID THAT! NO MORE LIES AND NO SPARING! AND YOU KEEP THIS DISHONOUR TO ME!!! THIS CRIME ARE YOU TRYING TO HIDING?!’

The young woman didn't move, she knew this kind of outburst of rage too well. And she knew how to respond to it. There was a soft click below her chest and the hand crossbow was pointed directly at Tomga's heart. ‘Dear. You know how I feel about such closeness. Listen to me and don't do anything wild, understand?’

A smug grin was just forming on her face when she heard the snapping sound. The elf had made a small movement with one hand, and Seroin saw the bolt of her crossbow magically touch and float upwards. It clattered onto the wooden floor and the woman blinked in confusion at her now empty crossbow.

Slowly, Tomga's hands tightened their grip. ‘You listen to me. I give you trust and trust again, but you continue to lie to me. You conceal the shameful deeds of your city, you lead me like a blind lamb through the alleys. And now you believe that with such street tricks you can convict a war hero of Daumaje?!’

Lady Olva approached Tomga. ‘Let go, Tomga Balf, at once. This behaviour is unworthy of your station. She is nothing but the filth of the streets of a rebellious freak.’

Immediately, the elf released his hands from Seroin, who drew in a sigh of relief. ‘I'm sorry, Tomga, I really am. I didn't know how to explain to someone so ideologically... loyal that Badazan does not tolerate the Ideas!’

The knight stared at his hands and only now began to realise the extent of his anger. His face was drawn as he looked at Seroin, silently seeking forgiveness.

The young woman smiled somewhat uncertainly and brushed his gaze out of the air. ‘Forgiven and forgotten, you damned forest fire, you! Just got you under control.’

Tomga dared to smile submissively. ‘Forgive me. I didn't mean to. The thought of it hurts. Do they know what child of Ideas is locked up there? I served with many in Daumaje.’

Olva shook her head. ‘I will not ask about it. Lady Ferl gave me a task here to do alone. And I fear, Tomga, I cannot share it with you. Ferl was very determined in her wishes. Even if our goals may overlap here, I cannot involve you further. That is how she wished it, and I respect the wish of the firstborn of death, the tolling of the bell, immediately.’

In unison, the two spoke a short sentence that sounded like a quick prayer or a last plea. ‘We do not talk about Lady Ferl.’

The knight nodded, defeated. ‘Very well. I will not question it, nor will I interfere. If Ferl desires the woman's presence, so be it.’

‘Woman?’ Olva looked at him in surprise, and Seroin immediately realised something, causing the young woman's panic to grow again. Olva was not only looking for Tomga's sister, but also for what she was wearing. Seroin reacted immediately. ‘And you really can't tell us anything? Not even share your results so far? Surely you've already done a successful search.’

Olva snorted and rose from her chair.

Just at that moment, Seroin rummaged around in her bag and despite a familiar, sharp pain, she didn't change her expression.

The lady opened a chest of drawers at the end of the room, looked into a drawer and closed it again. ‘No. I'm afraid I can't share any of that with you, everything falls under Lady Ferl's wish.’

‘We won't keep you any longer.’ Seroin went to the door and threw it open, only to be greeted by a guard standing behind it.

The man in steel pushed them out of the way and whispered something in Lady Olva's ear.

Immediately, her features fell into hatred and her eyes stuck to Seroin, twisted with rage. ‘Your face is that of a bad doll, without emotion or feeling. And yet you seem to be remembered. You are just as false and contaminated as the rest of this lot, you are nothing but dirt. I'll feel safer with your head separated from your shoulders!’

As if it were an order, the guard drew his spear.

Seroin blinked in puzzlement. She was about to react when she sensed someone else passing by, this time much smaller.

A black-haired boy, no older than three years, stomped towards Tomga with a beaming face, his hands already outstretched towards him. ‘Toaaaa. Toaaaa.’

The knight cheered with joy and lifted the little boy up. ‘No, how you have grown, look at you, look at you, very strong. Like your father. And as beautiful as your mother, the little, fine man. How is my Apple king today?’

The boy giggled and grasped Tomga by the hair.

Olva approached them, wiped the last traces of an apple from the boy's lips and kissed him on the cheek. ‘I could hardly hold him back. Malum wanted to see you again immediately. My son raves about you. Like certain daughters of certain people from my court.’ Now a malicious grin spread across her features. ‘Some things you never lose, do you, great war hero?’ She shot Seroin a cold glance. ‘I would love to tell you about this snake, Tomga, but that too is knowledge I don't share. Play with Malum for a while. After that, leave my house and don't come back!’

“So that's him? I'd forgotten what good old Orforir looked like.’ Seroin stared at the large stone statue.

The work stood almost 15 steps tall. It showed an elf in tight, blue linen and leather armour, with a sharp dagger in each hand. An almost smooth mask made of shiny steel covered the statue's face, reflecting the sun and shooting straight into its eyes.

The work stood in the middle of the wide and fertile fields of the pasture district. Around them, countless hard-working labourers ploughed the soil, grew something, harvested something, or scattered fine powder over fresh plants. The Willow-quarter had hardly any column towers, but here, too, the rest of the city towered over their heads, the constant whirring of the flying Plattis proof of that.

Seroin nodded towards the statue, impressed. ‘They really did create the good G.M.E.s entirely in his image. You could almost call it honour. A simple elf. And he accomplished such deeds. Orforir the Godslayer.’

Tomga, on the other hand, sat facing away from the statue on a small wooden box, his face buried in his hands. A heavy breath forced its way through his lungs and one might almost have thought he was crying. His features held a question that Seroin answered immediately.

‘Tomga, please. You have to understand how difficult it is to guide someone from the rest of the continent around here, to explain Badazan to them. If I'm honest, the continent should actually hate this city.’

‘But the continent can't... Ferl. Lady Ferl. Do you know who she is? The firstborn of Death, the tolling of the bell. Entire armies fell dead in one breath just because Ferl swung the bell. Every day I prayed and thanked the Ideas that this woman in Daumaje was on the Diersa side back then, on our side. And this being, it fears Badazan?! These metal men and the corrupted magic here?!’

Seroin crouched down. ‘Is it so hard to imagine that even gods and their children can be afraid? Isn't there such a thing as the true Idea of fear? Maybe that's part of their plan?’

Now the knight snorted with amusement. ’Maybe. But everything here is so far removed from the Ideas. From their plans and desires.’

‘The Ideas themselves are gone.’

‘And that's why the city locks up the children of Ideas in this zoo?’

‘Tomga. How could I have explained this to you without you marching straight over there and an inspector or a G.M.E. burning you down like a mouse? When we've fulfilled our mission, let's talk to Shiverlips, maybe there's a way to free these creatures. Maybe someone will even pay us to do it.’

The elf grinned again. ‘For me, it would take at least one of those metal men. Your inspectors are... improvable. And thank you. I appreciate the gesture. Gladly. But one thing at a time.’

Seroin sighed wearily. ’I am not Badazan, I cannot defend the city's actions and attitudes. I'm here to help you, and yes, because I get something in return. Is that enough to condemn me?’

With a heavy sigh, Tomga dropped her head. ‘No, no, it is not. But I feel like a child. You keep many things from me and promise to tell me the truth, but then the next lie awaits me. Can't you see how much that hurts? From someone who wants to help me, has already helped me so much.’ He stroked his once limping leg. ‘And now Olva speaks of you as... a snake. Why? My trust fears for itself, feels exposed.’

‘I understand, I know. But I act to protect you. To put all of Badazan on the shoulders of one growth is too much. If you ask, I'll answer. Otherwise I'll keep quiet. Too many questions can drive you crazy here. Like I said. I do this for A.M.I.s. And I've done it often enough for the wrong people. Reason enough to call me snake. But a sense of justice doesn't fill your pockets, not here.’

‘So keep your head down and don't make waves? Otherwise, the head rolls?’ The knight pierced her with his blue eyes.

This time, Seroin did not withstand the gaze, but instead looked the statue of Orforir in the face. ’Right. We can't all be like him, the Godslayer. Don't forget, the continent is full of simple mortals, not children of Ideas.’

Tomga slowly tramped over to her. ‘I see him in a different light now... even if we could use his help. Orforir was a master assassin, investigator and tracker. He would certainly be able to secure a trail for us.’

Seroin looked over at him with a wry grin. ’Ah yes. And I'm not enough for you? Here, heal this first.’ She quickly withdrew her hand from her hanging bag, which was completely covered in blood, and long, fine cuts marred her flesh.

‘By Diersa, say something! How...?’ Tomga quickly placed his fingers on her hand and immediately a soothing tingling sensation shot through the wound, a mixture of burning and numbness. ’I don't care who sees what. Just say something.’

Seroin grinned even wider. ‘No, no, it should be like that. Crystal ball, magic from the bottle. Single use. And damn expensive. But it was worth it!’ She tapped her forehead. ‘A Sidier spell, I think that means stars. Anyway, you briefly see through someone else's eyes.’

The knight nodded briefly. ‘The Idea of Sidier, the eyes of Diersa. It is the stars. Barely visible during the day, and at night their protective gaze rests on every mortal. But how...” He faltered. ’You looked into the eyes of the Lady of the Wooden Surf? Adopted a foreign point of view?!’

Seroin waited for his outrage, but Tomga only nodded weakly. ‘I must say, brilliant. Exactly at the right time. Technically, we haven't violated Ferl's wishes. Even if I can't quite understand them at the moment.’

With a final burning sensation, the wounds on Seroin's hand closed up and the woman slapped Tomga gratefully on the shoulder. ‘Listen to you, there might be a little bit of Badazan in you after all. I now know which documents the lady was holding. And where we can continue our search.’

‘Please.’ Tomga shook his head solemnly. “Don't compare me with this city. From what I've seen here, it must be Defala himself behind it. Only the Nothing can conjure up such evil in the world!’

Seroin tilted her head to the side, her features once more those of a mask. ”What? The mortals alone aren't cruel enough for you?’