55th Day | 527th Year of Hogumpen | The Kingdom of Guella | Present Day

Amani:

I wake with a start, my head splits with hurt. What's up with these dreams? It's been years since I last read these histories, years since I last dug my nose into the histories of my forefather, imagining myself in their shoes, and playing their characters with my little brother.

“Are you hurting anywhere, princess?” Says a melodic voice. My eyes almost tear up at that voice, it's been so long since I heard it that I almost forgot it. I open my eyes to the sweet face of Arsha, looming at the foot of my bed, brows drawn in concern.

“Just help me up, will you?” I say, extending my hand. She takes it, helps me up, leans me over the headrest of my bed, and sits by me, examining my hand, then head.

“I hear Rism tea helps,” Aunt Cass says, coming over with tea in hand. What better care could one ask for? “I thought I wasn't supposed to be allowed the princess treatment on my Soul Voyage.” I say, more playfully than anything else.

“You are not,” they say in unison. “I am simply taking care of my best companion.” Arsha says.

“And I, my best mentee,” says Aunt Cass, pulling a chair to my other side. With gratitude I take the cup from her hand, sip on it. The refreshing smell of Rism helps clear my foggy head and a gentle warmth soon begins to branch through my body. What a way to start the day.

“Khwack!” Cough cough

My nose and throat burn, but their pain is underwhelming compared to the striking bell in my head.

“What is it?” Aunt Cass jolts up in panic, “is it too hot? Does it taste bad? I was sure I blew on it before giving it to you.”

I try to raise my hand to stop her but my hand shoots up to my aching temples instead. Rubbing it doesn't do shit, so I sit up, get off the bed. Both Arsha and Aunt charge at me, but I manage to keep them at bay. Somehow, I raise my hands, “It's okay, just a mild headache.” I lie.

“Top of the morning, Nikarbrains!” The door bashes open, Omar barges in, turns on his heels and exits, banging the door shut behind him. “Sorry, forgot.” comes his voice from beyond the door.

Arsha face-palms, “forgive him, my little brother has had a line hook stuck in his brain ever since the day he was born.”

Knock knock

“Get dressed and meet us downstairs, we have plans to discuss.” Uncle Mal says from behind the door. “Oh, and, the nikerbrain is buying us breakfast. So y'all better hurry!” I hear Omar groan from the other side and we laugh. The headache seems to have alleviated a little. I pray it stays that way.

. . .

Dressed in local attire, we head downstairs. “Miss Amani?” calls a small, soft voice. I look up from my careful steps to see a little girl standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Sir Malova has sent me to help you to your seats.” she says, motioning to the right. We follow quietly behind.

Passing through the pearl white, swirly designs of the common room we enter through gates of perch wood etched with the decorated remains of the original thirteen structures made of Gidone, a national landmark, marked internationally in the Book of Seven Spectacles Around the World. These doors open to a barrage of fresh scents of spices that help permeate through the fog in my mind, a little at least.

“Morabban, morabban, esteemed guests.” Greets a waiter, dressed in what Guella thinks people abroad wear. The little girl goes up to him, whispers in his ears, and turning to us, bows and disappears. The waiter then turns to me, “Miss Amani,” he says, a gentle smile displayed on his face, “Sir Malova has informed me that you would be arriving soon. Please, follow me.” Saying this, he turns on his heels, leading the way with his practiced footsteps. So we follow again, dancing amongst a maze of distinctly different looking people.

“Hey guys, over here!” Waves Uncle Mal. Beside him sits Omar, holding an extra large menu to his face. The waiter sits us down, and disappears, saying he'll fetch us some more menus.

Sigh

“Omar,” I call out, “it's fine. I understand that it was a mistake.” The menu drops and I see him smiling behind it. “But that doesn't excuse you from facing your consequesnces.” His smile drops.

“The menus,” the waiter, suddenly appearing out of nowhere, plops them down in front of us. But placing them down he just stands there, staring at us.

Slowly, everyone bgins ordering one by one, and eventually I am the only one who's left to order. “Do you guys have the Kibat and Ufti?” I ask. The waiter nods and promptly clears the table off our menus.

Snap

A silence settles amongst us as the waiter shuffles out of earshot. “Uncle, the sound bubble?” I say.

“Already done, Princess Amani.”

We huddle in closer to each other, as if that'll help muffle our voices more than what the Tullarkian techniques can achieve. In the growing silence of the bubble, Uncle Mal still talks quieter. “Ahayan came by this morning with a message. He says the City Lord is back in his estate, but has denied seeing anyone as of yet.”

“The new City Lord is an ass. What are we to do?” asks Arsha.

“Break into the place, I say,” says Omar, sitting up, a gleeful expression painting his face.

“You're a City Guard squad captain, you dumbass. You're supposed to protect the City Lord, not jeopardize him further.” Arsha says, scoffing. We chuckle, Omar scowls. Turning to us, Arsha continues, “I think the only viable option left to us is to call on our relatives in the capital. I mean, they are high ranking nobles, so getting a simple City Lord to comply should be easy enough for them.”

“No, that'd take too long.” says Aunt Cass, resting her chin on her hand, thinking hard.

Oddly enough, “I agree with Omar on this.” I say. They all look at me, shocked at me agreeing with Omar for once, I presume. “Be assertive if you want them to hear,” I say, citing my mentor. Their blank looks, however, prompts me to elaborate further. “Look, I'm not saying that we should charge in, weapons wielding or something like that, but we should at least show up and demand what he owes us.”

“Haha! Finally, you're speaking my language, Princess.” Omar bounces up, giddy with excitement.

“Omar, sit your ass back down!” yells Arsha, noticing the people around us staring. Pouting, Omar sits back down, his tongue sticking out, mocking his sister.

Snap

Pop

“Your food,” the waiter says, popping out of nowhere again. He sets two plates down in front of me, says, “Kibat and Ufti for Miss.” Two more waiters follow suit and plop down the other’s plates. Dishes of every color decorate our table and delicious scents of spices infiltrate my mind, helping alleviate some of the fog clogging it.

A peaceful silence falls amongst us as we munch on our food in silence, a silent appreciation of food we adopted through our hard experiences. Breaking into the City Lord's estate can wait until we're done gorging.

. . .

Outside in the common room a little lad stands waiting by the couch. Seeing us enter, he raises and comes over to us. “Good morning, Esteemed Guests of the State,” says little Ahayan from yesterday, bowing to us at the main hall of the reception room.

Omar pushes past, goes to him. “There's my boy!” He says, ruffling his hair. “How're you doing, bud?” He bends down to his level, and the kid smiles back, says he's fine, and follows up on a query about Omar's health. “How’s your father doing, kid? I heard things got pretty heated up at the intersection yesterday.”

The kid looks up, gives me a quick once over before returning his gaze to Omar. “Yes, Mr. Omar, my father is doing just fine.” he finishes, smiling a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He then bows again at Omar, steps back and addresses all of us. “State Steward Abbas has sent me to help escort our esteemed guests for the day. I'll be waiting outside whenever you're ready,” says the kid, excusing himself to go wait outside while we gather ourselves.

“I might’ve been a little too hard on the guy yesterday,” Aunt Cass says under her breath as she starts walking back up, saying she's going to fetch us our packs for the day.

Omar stands back up, walks over to me with a pointed stare. “Don’t tell me, you were the one who gave Old Abbas a hard time yesterday?” he asks, admonition prevalent in his voice.

I don't like the accusing tone in his voice. Getting scolded by Omar out of everyone feels ludicrous to me, “It wasn't just me there,” I say, turning around to find no one. The tail of a trailing robe is all I see. There's only me, Omar and Arsha left in the lobby. Arsha’s staring at me accusingly too, shaking her head. I sigh, turning away.

“No, not old man Abbas. He’s one of the best officials this city has got,” says Arsha, brows drawn, “I'm sorry, Miss Amani, but I agree with my brother on this one. The guy works harder and more diligently than anyone else in this city.”

I turn back to them, raise my hands, palms upright. “Okay, okay. I get it, I get it. I’ll apologize to the man the next time I see him.”

“Ahha, kids. Don't pester her so, I was at fault too.” says Uncle Mal, coming back down, my ‘knight in shining’.

“Don't you have to be at your job?” I ask Omar. He just shrugs, says he's taken a day off.

Thud

A literally overbearing Aunt Cass descends down the stairs, clutching five small haqiba bags close to her chest. She tosses one to each of us, it contains our usual travel gear. Always keeping ready a small bag of essentials was drilled into us by the experiences of our long travels. And I'm glad to see that a few months of rest hasn't corrupted my companions' basic travel senses.

From Arsha’s bag she retrieves a frobe. “Oh shi, I forgot to get one.” I say looking at Arsha. A slow smile spreads across her face as she retrieves two more frobes, throwing me one and then Aunt Cass one. Omar does the same for Uncle Mal.

And so, with our bags slung across our backs, and ethereal white frobes protecting our hides we head outside.

Fresh rays of light bathe me in waves of heat, and I shield my eyes against its assault. Squinting in the blinding light, I look around, spotting little Ahayan standing by a carriage, talking to the carriage driver.

“Over here,” he yells once he sees us, beckoning us over. The carriage driver, stepping around him, swings open the cab door of the carriage and I hobble over, Aunt and Uncle right behind me.

Diving into the carriage I breathe a sigh of relief, the brief jog has sapped the water right out of me. I guess I need more time to readjust to Guella’s heat.

“Palm it on.” I hear Ahayan’s forced deep voice instruct from the outside. A body shuffles to the front, and I feel a small push coming from the front.

*ZING*

A slow rumble permeates through the whole cabin before I gasp, feeling goosebumps rise across the skin of my arm, quite literally. A small shower of hail starts sprinkling from above as I feel the temperature slowly descend into coolness.

“A small apology from The State.” Says Ahayan, poking his little head inside the cab and smiling at us.

“You mean a small gift from your old man.” corrects Omar from behind Ahayan, clapping him on the back. His small clap, however, almost sends the little boy tumbling into the cab.

“You give us too much credit, Mr. Omar.” Ahayan says, moving off the doorway. Backing away, he gestures for the siblings to get on, but Omar picks him up and tosses him in before getting in himself, Arsha following suit.

Bump bump

The carriage shakes like a cradle as we ride along. Omar, Uncle Mal, and little Ahayan are comfortably seated across from us, engaged in a lively conversation about the changes in Ja’na; the negatives, the positives, the whole of it. Over on our side we'd been talking too, but I'd strained my ears to listen in on theirs. Little Ahayan, corroborated with Omar's insights, explained how Guella’s gates were closed to the outside because the wandering tribes of Fa'ad had proclaimed it to be. One day, the Koshwa tribe’s chieftain shahanama had cried the warning out to the king, saying he got one of his Jinns to go up to the upper skies and hear the news from the creatures speaking of it there. Omar scoffs at Ahayan, but seeing the little boy's expression drop he corrects his tone right away, says, “The wandering tribes of Fa'ad should not be believed. Most of their sayings are ploys in the name of their kingdom.”

I remember the history of Fa'ad quite vividly, in part thanks to the energetic lessons of my tutor, the Duke. Fa'ad was the neighboring country, due west. It lay between the Kingdoms of Eyjavo and Guella. A vast barren, desert country now; its former glory burned down in an almost apocalyptic display of meteoritic downfall in the great partition wars. The country's downfall had effectively served as the most poignant display of destruction that awaited the other warring countries, if they were stubborn enough to go on with the neverending wars. And so it was this ugly display that helped calm the raging fires of war, and helped establish this somewhat quiet peace amongst them.

Uncle Mal, saying nothing, moves his head right, catching me in the act. “Since you’re already eavesdropped, Miss Amani,” he says, “would you like to imbue some of your great insights into this conversation?”

“Ahaha,” laughing awkwardly, I turn to them. Aunt Cass and Arsha quiet down, and stare on curiously. “What you're implying, Ahayan, is that the City Lord is going to be hard on us just because of this ‘prophecy’ as you say it?” Ahayan nods. “Well then, I say that we give this guy a chance first, speak logically to him, and if he still remains uncooperative to us, then we use whatever means necessary to extract our due payment from him. All little Ahayan over here needs to do is secure us a meeting with this aloof guy.”

“Whatever means necessary sounds good to me,” Omar says, much to Ahayan's dismay. He passes it off with the kid as a joke, but turning to me, winks most knowingly. I sigh, shaking my head at him, he always treats serious situations like they're a joke. I, on the other hand, don't plan to be branded a three star criminal in the whole of Guella just for a few measly bags of coins, no matter how many coins each bag might possess.

The waddling carriage abruptly comes to a stop a few minutes later, and Ahayan jerks into action. He slips out the carriage with haste, and in his haste forgets to shut the door behind him. The sudden shafts of light penetrate the womb of the cab with a fiery vengeance. The whole of the cab's interior glows with life until Aunt Cass slams the door shut.

An extended time passes by and we sit in silence. I try to reach the outside with my sense spread but the low humming of the cab restricts the voices from the outside.

Shuffle shuffle

Slide

The small window connecting the cab to the carriage driver slides open, and through it Ahayan’s little hazel eyes poke into the inside. “The City Lord will see us now,” he says, and the carriage resumes its waddle across the pavement, only smoother this time.