***

The city welcomed dawn with the sizzle of extinguishing fires and squeak of mirrors being cleaned behind them. Dhanur rubbed her head, her hangover somehow worse even though she stopped drinking earlier than usual. Once begun, she quickly decided against continuing her morning stretches as her eyes felt as though they would throb out of her skull. 

“No, no, not today,” she groaned. 

 With a discontented sigh, Dhanur descended to the kitchen area, sitting at the small table without a word, ignoring the roti already there. She struggled to peel open her eyes as her ungloved hand carded through her thick hair, free from its hood.

Dhanur blinked, brought her naked hand to her face, and stared at it. She didn’t remember fighting with her armor through the night and just then noticed she hadn’t taken it off before she left her bedroom.

She opened her mouth as if to speak but she only pointed at her hand.

“You came back, and, well, I helped you get undressed so you could sleep.” Janurana shrugged, pressing her tongue to her canines behind her closed lips. It was painless as her fangs were retracted.

Dhanur looked at her hand again, confused, trying to piece together when that may have happened. She blushed at the thought of Janurana helping her undress, but the destitute looking Kumari’s sprightly disposition forced Dhanur from her sleepy haze.

“Why’re you so, ya know, again?” Dhanur groaned.

Janurana quickly spun around and raised an eyebrow in confusion before she understood. “Oh!” Lowering her tone but grinning all the same, she said, “I slept really well!” She spun back around as quickly to stir another pot of soup, garnished then with cabbage and lemon grass.

“Alright.” Dhanur rolled her eyes, swallowing a repeat of the sharp request she’d made yesterday. Janurana’s accent took time to register yet again. As she waited for another soup breakfast, Dhanur fidgeted, rubbing her head as she remembered last night with her thoughts at the inn and the kindness Janurana showed in helping lift off her scaled armor when she got home. Her hand had trailed to her chest. Feeling the softness of her undershirt and how easily Janurana could have slipped one of her own arrows through it. 

“So, your family,” Dhanur started.

Janurana stopped stirring.

“Wait, did I ask about that yesterday?” Dhanur scratched her head.

“Yes,” Janurana said, her expression frozen in a blank smile.

“Were they noble?”

Janurana lowered her head. “Yes. We discussed this yesterday.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Just, thinking of where you could go after this.” 

“Have I worn out my welcome already? I do apologize, Madam warrior.” Janurana bowed.

“No, that’s not what I—Ugh.” Dhanur sighed and rubbed her temple. “It’s not that, I promise. Sorry.”

“Okay. I’ll finish this soup for you and get out of your way.” Janurana turned back to the pot and Dhanur rolled her eyes and dug the heel of her hand into her forehead.

Her inner voice was quick to speak up. ‘Two fish with one net.’

‘What?’ Dhanur thought back.

‘If you go to the Keep and ask to see the records, you can look up her family. That’ll help Janurana and you can see Aarushi again. You’ll know then if all this is a sign.’

‘You told me it was.’ Dhanur rolled her eyes.

Janurana focused on cooking, happy the conversation had ended.

‘I said this may be a sign,’ Dhanur’s inner voice continued. ‘Now you can make sure while you help this woman.’

‘And leap right into a charging bull, yeah. If the gwomoni were the ones who took out her family then—’

‘If they wanted you dead, you’d be dead. How many times until that’s understood? They won’t kill you. And even if they were the ones who did that to Janurana then you’ll know for sure and can go from there. And they’ve let you in before to see Aarushi. Just try.’

‘So, I can walk into their Keep with a person they clearly hate? If she’s right, they’ll probably kill her right there! That’ll be helpful.’

‘It’s not a perfect solution. But it’s the best right now. The guards on the wall must not have recognized her when they let her in, so maybe the Keep’s won’t. And it’s day so the gwomoni will be asleep. Now’s the perfect time.’

Dhanur grimaced, realizing her voice was right, and summoned the courage to speak. “Hey,” she called out.

“Yes?” Janurana spun, stick behind her, smiling tight.

Dhanur sighed, then folded her arms. “We can go to the Keep, peek at their records. That’ll probably have something on your family.”

The stirring stick fell from Janurana’s hands, clonking onto the floor as her smile became pained. She turned to snatch it up. “I already explained to you,” Janurana started, flustered. She kept her back to Dhanur and fiddled with the stick. “My family, they’re gone.”

“I know, I know,” Dhanur tapped her fingers. “I just thought, maybe, there’d be something. Even if these nobles were the ones that did your family in, they probably don’t remember you. There’s no way you look the same. Right?”

Dhanur shrugged as she finished, half convincing Janurana, half herself. Janurana stared at her soup as if it held the answers at its bottom. “It was quite a long time ago,” she murmured.

“So, there ya go. We can go in, say you’re somebody else or whatever, just ask to look over the records, and see if maybe any of your family is out there,” Dhanur said, not noticing Janurana flinch at her last words. “Even if they don’t like you, they’ll keep records on where enemies are, if they’re smart, heh.” 

Janurana continued to stare at breakfast, the peas becoming softer and softer, nearly melting as they cooked. 

‘Even if they don’t like you,’ Dhanur’s words ran through Janurana’s head, then she remembered something Dhanur had said at the inn.

“The nobles, when you said they were the same as others, what did you mean?” she asked.

Dhanur bristled at the question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean how are they different?”

“You mean…” Dhanur balked. She cocked her brow. “You know about the gwomoni?”

Janurana’s entire body seized at the word. She nodded.

“Huh.” Dhanur blinked, leaning back, thinking out loud. “Right. Guess a noble herself would know ‘bout them.” She ground her hand into her forehead since she had spent so long worried that Janurana was a gwomoni agent sent to kill her.

Janurana’s eyes flared. “Know about them? They’re why I’m Outside! Th—!” She stopped before her voice cracked. “They murdered my family. I’m surprised you know.”

“I ain’t friends with them either.” Dhanur rubbed her temple again. “Blood sucking freaks. Hegwous and Gehsek’re why I’m not a warrior anymore, put it like that. Do you know them?”

The names were vaguely familiar and Janurana tried to place them but her mind was completely blank. “Hegwous and…”

“Glad someone else around here knows,” Dhanur pressed on. “Said if I ever mentioned them they’d—” She shook her head. “They’d be pretty upset. I know—Knew a noble once who opposed them. Any enemy of theirs is a friend of mine.” Dhanur thunked her fists together, her draw hand closer to her chest, and bowed deep.

Janurana looked down at Dhanur, then to her own sari, worn and repaired, but still clinging to the small semblance of beauty it once had. She hadn’t seen any family so far. She’d be with them if she had. Regardless, she caressed the biggest patch by her hip. Its familiar bumps of what lay beneath it both calmed and stressed her.

“You need not get so involved.” Janurana suddenly bolted for her parasol, sitting by the door next to Dhanur’s bow. “You have already helped more than I could have asked for.”

“It’s fine!” Dhanur shouted, snatching Janurana’s wide sleeve. Janurana shot her a surprised and offended look, as one might give a disobedient servant. Dhanur balked and let go, but furrowed her brow obstinately. “Fine, do what you want, whatever.” Dhanur crossed her arms.

Janurana flinched at the suggestion, but she looked at the door, almost ready to leave.

“But, ya needed help and I’d be a pretty dowsing bad person if I didn’t give it. It’s what I should do,” Dhanur sighed. “Besides, I’d like to go there too.”

“But they—”

“I know you know.” Dhanur finished Janurana’s sentence as if that’s what she said. “Look, they’re dowsing monsters, I know. But I used to work for the Maharaj so they’ll at least let us inside. And I’d like to see her anyways.” Dhanur took a single breath. “So, ya gonna let me help you or not?”

Janurana stared at the door. “The Maharaj, she’s…”

“Dark, no. She’s not a gwomoni like the rest of them.” Dhanur scowled. 

Janurana let out a sigh then nodded to Dhanur. 

“Thank you.” Dhanur returned to the table.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that?”

Dhanur pouted as Janurana giggled. “The soup’s probably done. We’ll head to the Keep after this.”

The pair sat in silence while Dhanur ate, but Janurana didn’t mind. It was nice simply having someone nearby, so willing to help. She gave the same excuse as yesterday for not eating and merely fiddled with her hair, pulling out any new knots. She hadn’t noticed it before, but Dhanur’s skin was incredibly smooth and her brows well–manicured. Even if her hair had yet to be combed, she clearly put the effort into grooming herself well. 

It looked nice.

***

The Keep was the center of the Capital, literally and figuratively. It housed the functionaries of the city including the nobles who presided over the bureaucracy, the storehouses, the military barracks, and the temple of the sun in which the Maharaj reigned as high priestess alongside being ruler of the city. The Keep’s walls shined blindingly, being made from imported alabaster stone, a beacon and reminder of its power to those who may deign to forget. Towers of the same mud brick that made most of the Capital rose to watch the city and the surrounding Outside. They were the only thing one could clearly see behind the white walls. The rest of the Keep was ostentatious enough to have three floors with painted trim, faded by the sun but still beautiful. The windows were closed during the day to keep the cooler night air inside and keep the thicker dry season dust at bay. Despite a few courtyards, the Keep was as densely packed as the city.

The main way to the Keep was filled with traders setting up their stalls and the populace pouring out to be first in line. Local brickmakers rolled out hand drawn carts full of mudbricks and sold from there, blacksmiths sent their apprentices to secure the best calling spots for repair services or find imports of tin. The same was true for all Daksinian cities and their markets, and for both upper and lower class sections. Exclusive to the upper class portion were scribes who sold slabs purporting to be myths or Light miracles, though few could actually read them. Mostly, the scribes sold their services to encode family histories or tall tales while painters sold their services to touch up any murals that decorated the upper class homes. In the lower class section, the people themselves painted. But throughout the whole main way market were food traders, mostly foreigners who had come in from the western ports. They opened their cartons of lemon grass, cabbage, hard peas and lentils, or dried meats from animals that no Daksinian had ever seen.

Despite the increased prices because of the importation, foreign and hard fare was fast becoming the new staples of the city diet. With the Scorching burning many smaller towns and making trade between more farm focused cities harder, the rulers in the Keep were forced to supplement the drop with extensive food shipments from the western ports they controlled, crewed by experienced merchants to whom a dangerous last leg of the journey was nothing. Even before the Scorching, the Outside was dangerous to work. Any new town or city needed a horde of armed guards to man bonfires at night while the palisades or walls were being built, something only governors or the Maharaj herself could afford. Only veteran travelers or entire armies dared long term exposure.

Dhanur and Janurana jostled through and approached the Keep’s man–made hill. With each step it grew taller, weighing on both of them. Janurana gripped her parasol tightly as it shaded her, while Dhanur walked silently beside her, stoic, but fisting her hands as if she held the bow slung over her shoulder. Both fixed their stares on the sealed gate. 

As they closed in on the Keep’s entrance, its two city guards continued to converse. One leaned on their spear and other the wall, both complaining about an unexpected shift change. Dhanur and Janurana took a few steps forward, still weren’t noticed, and Dhanur cleared her throat. Nearly dropping their spears, the two guards held up their hands.

“Ma’am, please state your,” the first guard paused and faltered at Dhanur’s powerful scales and gleaming white bow, despite her lack of a quiver. Not sure of who the northern woman was supposed to be, he stumbled with his words. “Oh. Uh, apologies but only warriors and nobles may enter the Keep?”

Dhanur couldn’t help but purse her lips in rejection. ‘Guess they don’t all remember me.’

‘They look young. Could be new,’ her inner voice added.

Dhanur extended her arm to present Janurana, as if she was only a bodyguard, but had to turn around as Janurana didn’t introduce herself. She was staring off into the distance. “Uh…”

“Hm? Oh!” Janurana startled. She had gotten lost looking over the walls of the city, swearing she had seen a view just like it somewhere on her travels. She sauntered forward past Dhanur with a smile. “Yes. You may address me as,” the slightest pause, “Shzahd. If I may, I wish to speak with the Maharaj of your Keep and view the Capital’s family records.”

The new name almost fit Janurana’s accent, but only half way.

The guards still looked confused. Janurana looked noble, and they heard odd foreign nobles may show up soon for an embassy, and one could only acquire armor like Dhanur’s by having it bestowed.

They stepped aside.