Lovu

  Lovu and the Scar stepped out into the hazy streets of Lavote’s outer city. Despite the violence breaking out just miles away, people were walking around without a care in the world. If he strained his ears, he could still hear the distant tolls of the alarm bells, but nobody paid them any mind.

  The moon was high in the sky. Torches kept the streets lit and he could see flickering lanterns and fire pits inside the buildings as they passed. Compared to the Residence and Merchant’s Quarter, the streets were narrow and crowded. Instead of towering stone buildings, it was filled with shoddily held together wood shacks with straw thatching. Most were single story buildings and even the highest didn’t rise above three floors.

  He couldn’t see a single Honor in sight and the majority of the crowd looked far closer to the woman leading him than anyone else Lovu had ever met. Everyone had some kind of scarring or disfigurement and most had hollow, malnourished looks to them. Many were missing limbs, replaced by an odd array of prosthetics. Most were simple wooden pegs, some were crude metal tools. A handful of animal limbs grafted onto the stumps.

  While he felt absolutely disgusting in his soiled clothes, the woman was right about blending in. He was one of the filthiest people on the street, but not by much. Everything was coated in a thin layer of dirt and soot.

  He stuck close to her, but he couldn’t help staring in wonder at every new curiosity. Some people caught his eye and stared back, but their sour looks made it obvious that they didn’t appreciate it, so he locked his eyes on her back instead.

  “So… how far away is the Highway?” he asked as they walked. She glanced back at him but didn’t slow down at all.

  “An hour-walk,” she said. “Maybe longer.”

  Lovu froze in place for a moment before realizing she had no intentions of waiting on him. The whole Lords’ Residence was barely a fifteen-minute walk from end to end. He never left the Residence on foot, but even his carriage rides into the merchants’ quarter never went longer than that. His trip through the tunnel dulled his sense of time, but he could confidently say he walked in darkness for nearly an hour, if not more. He thought he’d be on the very edge of the city.

  Is Lavote really that big?

  It wasn’t just the size that staggered him, but the life he was seeing around him. He knew the outer limits of the city were poorer than the areas near the harbor. As an Advocate, he heard plenty about the aid the temple provided, but this was far worse than even his wildest imagination.

  “Is everything between here and there this…” he asked, trailing off as he looked at the ramshackle buildings and ravaged people around him. “…rugged?”

  The woman didn’t stop moving, but Lovu noticed the slightest twitch in her shoulders. “It is. What of it?” she growled back at him.

  “O-oh, it’s nothing, I’m just surprised you all are living like this. I expected… more?” he said, carefully choosing his words with the sinking feeling that he was failing horrendously. Even without seeing her face, he could see the tension building.

  “Sorry it isn’t up to your standards, your highness,” she said, her voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. “We don’t exactly have a choice.”

  Lovu opened his mouth to defend himself, but his jaw just hung in silence. He decided to leave his questions there for fear of making things worse but continued to make note of the streets around them.

  Once things settle down, I’ll make sure we get Advocates out here to help. This is no way for people to live.

  His mental list making was interrupted as the woman abruptly threw him into an alley. Suddenly, their positions reversed as she was pushing him in front of her, squeezing through the tight gap between two buildings.

  “W-what is going on?” he asked frantically. “Is everything all right?”

  “It’s fine,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder. “Just saw some people that neither of us want to run into right now.”

  Images of Lord Foyrilmang standing over him flashed to mind and a shiver ran down his spine. That said enough for him to quicken his pace. Once they reached the other end of the alley, the woman glanced around before shoving him all the way out and taking the lead again. They continued, but barely five minutes later, she did the same thing. This time, Lovu was able to catch a glimpse of who she was talking about. Walking down the street toward them were a group of soldiers wearing mismatched armor with silver badges on their chests depicting a flame wrapped in chains.

  “Wait,” he said, planting his feet. “Those are Honors. We should ask them to-”

  She didn’t even wait for him to finish before shoving him into the alley with enough force to knock him to the ground. He staggered and barely caught himself on a barrel set up to catch rainwater against the nearest building.

  “We aren’t gonna ask Honors shit unless you want to end up dead,” she said, scooping him up and dragging him by his shoulder.

  “What do you mean? They are servants of Yol,” he said, flicking glances back in their direction. “They are bound to serve justice and help those in need. If we just-”

  Just as they were about to reach the end of the alley, she stopped him by slapping a filthy hand across his mouth and pulling him to stand flush against the wall. A couple of seconds later, another group of Honors passed barely ten feet away, clearly scanning the streets as they walked.

  Once they were out of sight, the woman waited a few moments before leaning over to Lovu, her scarf-covered mouth just inches from his ear. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re royalty and I doubt those bastards will either. They’ll empty your pockets and leave you for dead without a second thought. You say one word to them, and I’ll kill you myself before they hear you. Am I clear?”

  Lovu nodded. While he knew she wasn’t right about Honors under normal circumstances, he was smart enough to know that he was in over his head. If Akil was right and Lords were involved in the attack on the Residence, it made perfect sense to be cautious about which Honors to approach.

  “Good,” she said, pulling her hand away and looking out into the street again. “There’re more out than normal. It’ll be tough getting where we need to go… change of plans.”

  “What do you mean ‘change of plans?’” Lovu said, panic rising in his voice. “I thought you said you could get me to the Highway?!”

  “We won’t make it much further on foot,” the woman said. “We’ll have to make a stop.”

  “What!? No. I can’t stop moving, I need to get out of the city.”

  “Shut it,” the woman said, grabbing him by the arm hard enough to hurt. He tried pulling away, but her hand was like an iron shackle. Suddenly, the fear he felt before asking for her help swelled in his chest again. “I know someone who can help.”

  She was on the move again, dragging him by force this time. He briefly considered calling out for help, but her warning from before still echoed in his ears. His voice was paralyzed, unable to leave his throat. Instead, he prayed to Fam’e in his mind, calling on her for protection.

  Cutting across a few more streets, the woman dragged Lovu toward a two-story wooden building, practically identical to all the others they had passed. Looking up, Lovu saw a sign hanging over the door showing a tree growing from a wooden mug.

  There was no writing on the sign – another big difference Lovu noticed from the Merchants’ Quarter – so he had no way of knowing what kind of business it was. He had to assume from the mug it was some kind of ‘bar,’ but it was hard to tell. Inside, it had a handful of tables with a counter at one end and casks and kegs lined up behind it. That fit the stories he had heard from Honors about ‘bars’, confirming his suspicions. There were a few dozen people mingling inside, huddled in small groups around mugs that matched the sign outside.

  Pulling his hood down further, the woman dragged him toward the counter, where a child was polishing mugs. She couldn’t have been older than ten, but she had a stern look on her face.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t-” the girl said chidingly, like a parent having caught their child in a lie.

  “Not the time,” the woman cut her off. “I got a job. Where’s the old man?”

  “He’s not gonna be happy after how you-” this time, the girl interrupted herself with a heavy coughing fit. Each cough wracked her body and nearly doubled her over. They sputtered and echoed, almost like her chest was completely hollow.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  After a minute, the coughs subsided and Lovu stood there uncomfortably as the girl struggled to catch her breath. Looking toward the woman, he saw that she was frowning at the girl, and for the first time, he felt something akin to anger toward her.

  “You done?” the woman asked as soon as the girl recovered enough to talk.

  “Yeah…” she replied, her voice hoarse and ragged.

  “Good,” the woman said, pushing Lovu forward. “Take him into one of the back rooms and keep an eye on him. I’ll go talk to Ingfe.”

  “Got it. Upstairs,” the girl wheezed. Despite her frail appearance after the breakdown, Lovu could see a glint in her eyes. “You got claims?”

  “I need him in one piece,” the woman said, but she let the statement hang in the air, as though she was leaving something unsaid.

  “All clear,” the girl nodded. The woman walked toward a staircase in the corner while the girl grabbed Lovu by the arm and pointed toward a door off to the side. “C’mon mister. Let’s get you something to drink,” she said in a sickly-sweet voice, completely unlike how she had been talking before.

  He followed her back into a small storeroom with a table and chair. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  Doing as the girl said, he sat down, taking advantage of the isolation to finally pull back the filthy hood. By that point, the sludge had dried on his skin beyond his ability to clean without a washbasin, so he just slouched forward and put his head in his hands. His legs ached and a heavy cloud hung over his head as the weight of everything set in on him.

  “Why?” he grumbled, unable to think of anything else. Nothing made sense. Even with retrospect, as he tried to figure out why anyone would enact such horrific violence on another human, all he could do was wonder.

  A moment later, the girl returned with a tall, frothy mug of dark amber liquid. “Here ya’ go, this’ll help cloud things up,” she said as she set the drink in front of him and pulled up a crate to sit on.

  “Is this… beer?” Lovu asked, eyeing it suspiciously. He occasionally drank wine with dinner but didn’t care much for alcohol in general. Apparently, beer was preferred by some Honors, but it was practically non-existent in the Residence.

  “Shit, you’re a real fancy pants,” the girl said, making Lovu balk in surprise. Hearing any amount of profanity from someone so young just sounded wrong in his ears. “Depends on what you count as beer, but we’ve never had anybody complain.”

  “Ah… thank you,” he said, taking a hesitant sip. It was thick and heady, almost like sipping on a stew, and tasted like bread, only wrong. Neither his mouth nor stomach knew how to handle the experience, so he just set it down on the table and pushing it away from himself. “Delicious. I appreciate the hospitality, but I think I’d prefer to keep my mind clear.”

  “Sick,” she said, pulling the mug over and downing about half of it in one gulp. Lovu put a hand up to object – in the Residence, alcohol was forbidden for everyone under 16 – but having already put his foot in his mouth several times that night, chose to bite his tongue instead.

  “So… I don’t think I got your name,” he said as she stopped to take a breath, belching loudly. He extended a hand across the table. “I am Lovu.”

  She eyed his hand as suspiciously as he had examined the beer, but after a second, her eyes brightened up. In a snap, she returned the gesture. “You can call me Kut.”

  “A lovely name,” he said, trying to put on as kind of a smile as possible. Having anything to ground himself, even just polite conversation, sounded lovely. “And where exactly am I? Your… friend brought me here but didn’t explain much.”

  “This’s the Roots. Best bar on this street.”

  “Oh, that’s fantastic. How many other bars are you competing with?”

  “None,” she said, matter-of-factly as she went back to the beer, only to be stopped short by a second coughing fit. As she sputtered, Lovu closed his eyes and focused carefully on the sound of her lungs. The hollow echo was even more obvious now that they were alone.

  Rotpot?

  Lovu had studied some medicine, especially for diseases that Fam’e was able to heal, and one of them was Rotpot. It was caused by mold growing in the lungs, usually contracted by people that spent too much time in dark, poorly cleaned areas like cellars. It ate away at the lungs and calloused their skin, causing the hollow sound.

  It was virtually unheard of in the Residence because of how meticulously maintained everything was, but he was lucky enough to attend a seminar for Advocates on how to treat diseases common in poorer areas. He even got to witness a healing ritual being performed for it. He was allowed to participate in it, but he remembered it clearly.

  “Fam’e, Matron of my flame and devotion, hear my words and offer your hand,” he said, bowing his head in prayer and holding his hands out in Kut’s direction. “Your servant Lovu Yelma has found your child, sick and ailing. Offer Kut a balm for her pain and the strength of your wind, so that she may breathe freely again.”

  As he finished, focusing his thoughts intently on her chest, he reached out to gently place a hand on her head. As they touched, the familiar warmth of her blessing flowed through him and a tight pinch took hold in his lungs.

  Kut’s cough immediately stopped and he started coughing in her place, smoke billowing from his mouth as if he had hit a pipe. As the it faded, instead of the look of relief or thanks he expected to find, Kut swatted his hand away and pushed herself back from the table, glaring as she stood. “The fuck’d you just do?”

  “I simply offered a prayer to Fam’e to help your cough,” he said, staring back at her in surprise. “Have you not already been receiving treatments for rotpot?” Despite how devastating it could be on the body, it was relatively easy to cure if you caught it early enough. It was one of the more basic illnesses Advocates treated. All she needed to do was visit Fam’e’s closest temple and the issue could have been solved.

  “I didn’t ask you to,” she said, glaring at him. “I ain’t paying you shit.”

  “Pay? Why would you pay me? If anything, I’m sorry I’m not able to do more. With just a prayer, the best I can do is relieve the symptoms for now. You’ll have to visit a temple to have it permanently cured.”

  She eyed him just like the older Scar had done when they first met. “I ain’t falling for that shit. What’re you trying to get at?”

  “I’m… trying to help you?” he asked, equally confused.

  “You’re just giving blessings out for free?”

  “Every blessing I can. I am a bit limited without the medicine needed for a full ritual, but I can slow down its spread as much as possible.”

  “So… you’d do it again?”

  “Of course,” he said, smiling gently. That finally seemed to drop her guard. She sat back down and he repeated the prayer a few more times. Each time, he felt his energy being sapped a little bit more, but the relief on Kut’s face as she took progressively deeper breaths was a worthy tradeoff. Each prayer felt less effective than the last and after three rounds, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do much more.

  “Holy shit,” she said, taking exaggerated breaths, marveling at how easily they came.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked as he slumped over the table.

  “Better than I have in months!” she said, absolutely giddy. However, the relief vanished in an instant as she looked him in the eyes, barely able to hide a grimace.

  “Is something the matter?”

  “Nah… it’s just-” before she could finish the thought, the door swung open and the woman from before stepped in.

  “Me and the old man figured everything out,” she said to Kut. “You’re good to head back out. I’ll watch him.”

  Kut turned the same expression toward her, but they must have known each other well enough for the older woman to understand. “What happened?”

  “He healed my lungs…”

  “Not completely,” Lovu said, cutting in. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he didn’t want the older woman to overestimate what he had done when the rotpot inevitably came back. “She’ll need a temple to fully recover, but I helped cut it back a bit.”

  “You didn’t make a deal or anything, did you?” she asked Kut, but the girl just shook her head.

  “He said it was free.”

  The woman glared at him for a moment before waving Kut away. The little girl nodded solemnly at Lovu as she ran out the door, leaving him alone with an infinitely more intimidating companion. As soon as they were alone, the woman walked over to him and put her foot up on the edge of his chair, right between his legs. The heel of her boot pinned his cloak in place.

  “What’s your angle?” she asked, leaning in to stare him dead in the eyes.

  “My what?” he chirped, recoiling away from her.

  “Your deal, your goal, whatever you want to call it. Why’d you heal her?” she asked, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him closer.

  “Because she’s sick! As an Advocate, it is my duty to care for all of Fam’e’s children. I couldn’t just sit there and listen to her suffer.”

  He turned his face away and shut his eyes to buy any amount of distance he could. It felt like one wrong answer would cause her to snap. He had no clue what that would look like, but he wasn’t feeling very curious.

  However, after a few seconds of silence, he cracked open his eyes and slowly looked back at her. Her face slowly lost its anger, leaving her brow knit in quiet contemplation. She dropped him back into the seat and sat down across from him, her hands steepled in front of her face.

  “I saw you at the big feast today,” she said, staring him down. “You’re a Yelma, aren’t you.”

  “I… I am,” he said cautiously, unsure what information was safe to give away.

  “Where’re you trying to get to? Long term, I mean. Getting on the Highway’s a starting point, but what’s your plan after that?”

  “Lord Vor’s estate in Kamvor. They are old friends of my family, so I trust they will be able to help me.”

  “Is the Voice still alive?”

  “I… don’t know. The last I saw the Palace was in flames, but I am sure he had secret exits that he could have used.”

  Surely, if I escaped, so did everyone else.

  “But even if he wasn’t, would Lord Vor give a reward for your safe arrival at his estate?”

  “Yes!” he said, rising out of his seat. Suddenly, the line of questions started to make sense and he was happy with where it was going. He’d prefer to have Akil as his escort, but he’d take absolutely anything at this point. “And if he isn’t able to spare enough to make it worth your while, I’ll personally pay you from my family’s coffers once I have access to them again. Would you be able to help me get there?”

  “I could…” the woman said, but her eyes still seemed conflicted. After a moment, she sighed heavily and stood. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

  “Wait, but I thought we were waiting on a friend of yours to come help?”

  “Change of plans. If you’re aiming for Kamvor, it’ll be safest to avoid the Highway altogether. I’ll take you on my own.”

  “But what about-”

  “No more questions. The longer we wait here, the harder it’ll be.”

  “O-okay then,” he said, standing up and following her to the door. He was lost, but that was nothing new. Not sticking to Akil’s plan was a problem, but so long as they ended up at the estate, they would meet again either way.

  As they stepped out into the hallway again, they nearly ran into Kut who had her ear pressed to the door.

  “We’re going. Tell Ingfe there’s a change of plans.”

  Kut nodded and turned to leave, but the woman caught her by the shoulder first.

  “This’ll be a bigger score than we thought. Let’s keep things even.”

  “But-” Kut whined.

  “No buts,” the woman said, cutting her off. “Give it back.”

  Kut pouted and reached into her pocket, pulling out the ring Lovu got from his mother. He looked down at his right hand and despite clearly seeing it in front of him was still shocked to find it missing.

  “When did you-?”

  “When we shook hands,” she said, handing it over to him. “Thanks for the magic though.”

  “I…” Before he could form any meaningful thoughts, Kut had run off.

  “Come on,” the woman said, dragging him toward a back door nearby. It opened to another tight alleyway, but she stopped for a second before stepping out. “You said your name was Lovu, right?”

  “Yes?”

  She turned around and extended a hand to him, just as he had tried to do earlier. “My name is Topal. It’s a pleasure to be working with you.”