ROLLENSPIEL

Pelorus Mekor looks at the two newcomers with disdain. They send him again some incompetents who will have to be trained. It seems that they even come from the Halt. Weaklings, no doubt, who probably don't know how to use a knife.

P: "Okay, newbies, grab a knife, we're going to cut up about fifty bodoc steaks for tonight. I'll show you how it's done. We'll take a roast beef and…"
A: "No need for that "malos", we know how to do it. Do you want the steaks tender or not?"
P: "What do you mean?"
E: "Azazor wants to know if we cut them in the direction of the grain or not."
P: "The… a direction?"
A: "Yeah, look at your roast beef, there's a direction for the muscle fibers. If you cut following this direction, the meat is firmer."
E: "But it's less tender. Cutting perpendicularly is harder, but the meat will so melt in mouth."
A: "Wait, we'll show you how."
E: "The trick is to sharpen the knife well."

Within minutes, the steaks are all sliced. The two fyros look at the chef with a smile.

A: "Do you want them even more tender?"
P: "Gue…"
A: "In that case, marinate them."
P: "Mari what?"
E: "Marinate them, bathe them in oil for at least an hour."
A: "Not forgetting the aromatic herbs for more taste."
E: "Oh yes, we have some herbs we picked in the forest near the Halt."
P: "Put herbs with the meat?"
E: "Trust us, we used to be butchers where we come from."

Pelorus sits for a few moments while the two butchers busy themselves to marinate the bodoc steaks in an herbal marinade.

E: "This will be perfect for pan-frying."
P: "Pan-frying?"
E: "Yes. How do you cook your steaks?"
P: "We boil them with the vegetables."
E: "But you can't boil meat like that!"
P: "Sometimes we cook it on a spit, but not the bodoc, it's too tough."
A: "Not the way we cut it. And even less once it's marinated."
P: "Well, listen, you seem to know a lot about it. So I'll give you carte blanche for the meat tonight at the tavern."
A: "Consider it done. Do you got a pan?"
P: "What's a pan?"
A: "A ploderos' hip we placed on the coals. When it's hot, you put the steak on it, thirty seconds, you turn it over for another thirty seconds and that's it."
P: "Is that all?"
A: "Yes."
E: "Not forgetting to baste with the cooking juice."
P: "I don't have a 'pan'."
A: "Never mind. Eeri, pass me your breastplate."
E: "My Kostomyx? You're crazy. We have a pan in the mektoub."
A: "Yeah, but it's far away, and in the breastplate, with the sweat, it gives an inimitable taste."
E: "I understand where your smell comes from."
A: "So go get the pan. And bring the ladle too, to baste the steaks."

Once Eeri returns with the pan, Azazor places it directly on the fire in the hearth, wedged with some embers.

A: "Frying doesn't take long. The longest thing is to let it marinate. But it's not mandatory. Even a few minutes only of marinating, that's not bad."
E: "Especially if the bodoc has been beaten before."
A: "It softens the meat."
E: "You also have to be careful when you kill it."
A: "Yeah, you have to avoid it the stress of feeling like it's going to die. That releases bad things in the muscle."
E: "That's why it's important to kill it by surprise and quickly."
A: "Or better yet, get some bodoc bred by the kitins."
E: "Yeah, straight from a kitins' nest. Don't you have that nearby?"
P: "A kiti… No, not here. Are there bodocs in kitins' nests?"
A: "Of course. Our job was even to go and get them."
E: "Them and the aranas, the madakams…"
A: "Hmm… very good the madakam."
E: "Have you ever tried braised madakam?"
A: "ney! Do you also deglaze it with shookie?"
E: "Ah Ah definitely! Even once…"

Leaving the two Fyros to talk about the art of cooking meat, Pelorus left the kitchen backwards to go and see his chef. Either these two were bullshitters, or he had just come across the two greatest master butchers of Atys. Either way, he had to warn the chef.

From the top of his watchtower, Wozung observes the two Fyros walking slowly inside the camp. They have just passed through the large gate to the east carrying on their shoulders a medium-sized arma, tied to a stake. The Fyros seems to inveigh the Fyrossa following him. The latter shouts out something while making a sign towards the south-western corner of the camp, to which the Fyros answers by spitting on the ground.

It's been four days that Wozung has been observing the same little game. In the early morning, the two Fyros get out by the east door, the only door leading to the desert. They come back an hour before noon, loaded with an arma or a ploderos, which they take to the tavern for lunch. In the afternoon, they leave again to return before the nightfall, this time loaded with a big bag full in the going and empty in the return. The Zoraï guard doesn't wonder about what they are scheming. It's none of his business and anyway, these two have made a good reputation for themselves at the tavern. It is true that he has never eaten so well since they have been at ovens. So what they might be up to, he doesn't care as much as his first barter.

As he is about to lose interest in them, one of the officers calls out to them. It is Ostini Facili, the chief of the guards. Not a softy, this one, a real paranoid and expert in poison. He points out the bag the Fyros used in the afternoon. These put their weapons on the ground and shrug their shoulders. Ostini seems to rise a tone. The Fyros starts to push the officer who makes him fall on the ground with a punch to the plexus. The Fyrossa picks the Fyros up while bellowing something in her turn. Ostini makes a sign to the guards around who immediately encircle the two Fyros, then they take them towards the northeast of the camp. Wozung knows what is in the northeast. The prison of the Outpost. Too bad, these were good cooks.


A few moments later, in Ostini's office

The officer looks at them coldly as they sit in their chairs. They each have a heavily armed guard behind them.

O: "I'll overlook your aggressive gesture towards me earlier. We'll put it down to exhaustion from a desert hunt."

The chief of the guards then shows them the bag that he has presented to them outside.

O: I'll repeat the question I asked earlier. Why do you carry this bag that smells of meat into the desert every afternoon? It's full on the way out and empty on the way back."
A: "Well, do you really want to know? Okay, then we'll tell you."
E: "Aza, shut up!"
A: "No, I never approved this deal. I knew it would come back to us."
E: "orak!"
A: "What about talen?"
O: "orak, talen? What's that?"
A: "Something you can't understand, you orskos!"
O: "Ors what?"
A: "You dirty Mat…"

Eeri manages to put her hand on of Azazor's mouth in time.

A: "It's okay, take it off!"
E: "It's just fyrk, still spoken in the New Lands."
O: "Listen to me carefully, you two comics, here this is not the New Lands. Here we are at Passers'. And goods embezzlement is harshly punished by our clan."

Azazor ruminates something unintelligible and spits on the ground.

O: "So this deal?"
A: "It's okay, you'll get your truth, orskos!"
E: "You're staining your honor Aza by revealing our pact."
A: "Not at all. As for me I didn't sign. Only gave you a helpful hand out of friendship."
E: "Friendship?"

The Fyrossa bursts out laughing.

E: "You can stick your friendship up you know where, you traitor."
A: "I'm not the one who flirting with degenerates."

Eeri gets up and throws a blow in the head of Azazor who wavers and falls from his chair. Then gets up and retorts by pouncing on her to strangle her. The guards must then intervene to separate the two furious.

O: "Are we done with this? Put me this one in the dungeon while waiting. As for you, the Fyros, you're testing my patience. You spill the beans right away or we'll play another game."
A: "Are you making a pass at me, hotty?"

Not being able to stand it any more, Ostini grabs the Fyros and tackles him on the ground violently. He makes a sign to the guards who begin to kick him until the fyros faints under the blows.

O: "Drag him to the dungeon with the other one!"

Ostini has never lost his patience like that. He's known for his unfailing calm. And yet, there, he has just had a homin beaten up. He feels he's going to have a hard time getting these two to talk. He's been through some tough ones, but these two really don't seem to care about getting beaten up. They say that where they come from, dying is rare. If that's the case, that explains why they're so resistant to blows. It must be a habit with them. Whereas here, the best survival technique is to avoid them.
First of all, he has to regain his composure. His reputation is at stake. And then, visibly, the blows have no hold on these homins. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm down for a moment.


In the cell where our two Fyros are locked up.

Once Azazor is locked in the same cell as Eeri, she waits a moment for the guards to leave. Then she goes towards her severely bashed fellow traveler. This one does not get up. His breath is hoarse and panting, as if he was going to choke. Whereas she approaches her face have a better look at him, he opens an eye and watches her with a big smile.

E: "Moron!"
A: "Hahaha"

He then gets up and sits down next to her."

A: "So, our little act was nice, wasn't it?"
E: "A real masterpiece…"
A: "We saved a little time. Considering what I took, they'll think that what I'm going to tell them will be the truth. That gives us some time to figure out what to tell them."
E: "It will be hard to explain why the bag that we bring every afternoon in the desert is full and stinks of meat but is empty when we return."
A: "We can tell them that we have a deal with the Atakorum tribe."
E: "The Atakorums? The mystical nomads that the other loudmouth at the bar was talking about last time?"
A: "Yeah. Why not say that we bring them meat in exchange for information?"
E: "If you say that, it's gallows at once."
A: "It's always better than telling them the truth, that we hijack meat and bury it in the desert for the rest of our trip. Dealing is better than stealing."
E: "We don't even know how far away the Atakorums set up their camp. If we want to pretend to deal with them, we have to be credible at least."
A: "Well, they must not be very far according to what Krapoutos says."
E: "Krapoutos says a lot of things, but that doesn't make them facts."
A: "Anyway, I don't think they'll want to know the details. If we tell them we're bringing them some of the meat we hunted in exchange for information about the area, they are not going to get cross, are they? These Marauders don't seem to be as heavy dullards as those at home. Bargaining, even if it's not with Marauders, seems to be tolerated."
E: "Not with their own goods."
A: "We're the ones who cook these."
E: "But it's still their meat, not ours. And they're going to want the fruit of the bargain back. They don't care about the information that the Atakorums would have given us about the desert."
A: "What are you thinking then?"
E: "You could say that we are trading in poison."
A: "Poison? But we don't have any p…"

Eeri smiles at him with all his teeth and flutters his eyelids.

A: "Oh yes, the famous vial…"
E: "He he."
A: "And where is this vial?"
E: "In my toub, if they have not already searched it."
A: "It's worth a try. We trade meat with the tribe for poison. We've been caught and so we agree to return the poison…"

Suddenly, footsteps are heard in the corridor leading to the cell. Eeri and Azazor fall silent at once. The latter lies down and starts coughing. A key comes turning in the firewood lock and the heavy door opens with a creak, revealing a stern-looking guard in the doorway.

G: "You Fyros, enough sleep. The chief must talk to you."
E: "Azazor, don't tell him anything! We swore not to say anything!
A: "I didn't."
G: "Go ahead and shut up!"

While Azazor is escorted by two guards down the corridor to Ostini's office, Eeri can't help smiling. A real play. But with a death sentence at final act if the audience doesn't like it.

OOC: This scene was played live on RC by Eeri, Azazor and Finaen (lorist playing NPCs). Only the layout and some micro changes have been made.


Ostini opens the door to his office. He curtly addresses the two guards accompanying him.

"Make him sit down."

The two guards obey, ready to strike the Fyros if he tries to resist. Azazor sits down with a mocking look on his face. 
Ostini closes the door, walks around his desk and sits down in turn. He taps the solid wood desktop for a few moments, staring into space, then finally pulls an object out of a drawer. A finely crafted dagger. Azazor looks at the Matis and the dagger in turn, without losing his slight mocking smile.

"Well you comic, I want you to explain me precisely this story about a 'deal'."

"Or what? Are you going to play the dagger?"

Ostini plunges his hand into his desk again. When it reappears, it holds a small vial filled with a greenish liquid. Azazor's smile immediately fades at the sight of the vial. The Matis uncorks the vial and lets fall a few drops on the dagger's curved blade. A few wisps of smoke are born from the reaction between the liquid and the hardened amber.

"What is it? Poison? If you kill me, you will not know anything!"

"Indeed, it is poison. In case you have forgotten, you should know that you have left the resurrection behind when you undertook this journey. In this desert, no Power will come to help you. So I urge you to cooperate, and not to try to trick me. Am I clear?"

As Azazor remain silent, Ostini goes on:

"I am in charge of the security of the Outpost. I have to understand what you are up to. And believe me, I'll get you to talk, if you try to resist."

The Matis seems particularly calm. The two guards remain flanked in front of the door. Azazor shrugs his shoulders.

"You know, Matis, I'm not the type to lie. And I'm willing to tell you everything. But you see, I don't like those of your race. Back home, the Matis are a bunch of smelly, vile pretentious people. I want to believe that here, it is different. But talk to me offensively again, threaten me again, and all you can get from me is a good spit on your pallid face."

Azazor can't help but look at the vial, the dagger, and the Matis, alternately.

"'Those of my race'? Have you not yet managed to get rid of the racism of our common ancestors? Your civilizations are definitely way behind…"

"You don't know the Matis of the New Lands…"

Ostini lets out a small chuckle, cut off by Azazor.

"I know a few rare Matis…. well, I know two, that are acceptable, out of a whole bunch of boot scrapings."

The Fyros pretends to remember another Matis.

"Ah no, three."

"You confirm what I thought: you are generalizing. But it's not your fault, that's what they want. Don't forget: you are playing into the hands of the Powers by waging war against each other for racial, political, religious, or whatever reasons… And meanwhile, you are divided. Facing them, and facing the kitins."

Ostini makes the dagger disappear under the desktop.

"Anyway. So you are willing to talk. That's fine. I am listening."

Azazor takes a breath.

"Didn't you guess? The bag that smells like meat, the poison you just pulled out… You have all the elements."

He watches Ostini's face, waiting to see the light.

"The poison?"

Ostini looks at the vial that was left on the desktop.

"What's the connection? That vial belongs to me."

[b]Suddenly, Azazor's face breaks down.[/i]

"Ah… ramèch! Well… What was said is said, he adds while tapping his foot on the ground."

Ostini starts tapping his fingers on the desk again.

"We had a deal with the Atakorums. In exchange for some of the meat we would go out in the morning to hunt for Pelorus, they would give us a vial of poison of their own creation."

The Fyros pauses and then continues:

"Given the danger of the road, Eeri and I thought it would be prudent to carry this kind of stuff with us for the rest of the trip. I know, it is a detour of matter which belong to you, but we had figured that, well, on the one hand, we were the ones who brought back this meat. Bodocs and armas are not easy to kill here."

"You're telling me that strangers who everyone distrusts, because of where they come from, are trafficking poison in the very resting place where they have been generously welcomed?"

Azazor has difficulty hiding his embarrassment.

"Not here, no, they didn't want to. They said you would not agree. So we were doing it in the desert, further east. We had agreed on a meeting point."

"If I was paranoid, I'd think that this poison was meant for use against us."

"Are you crazy? Why would we do that?"

"To avenge all the horrors that Akilia's goons did to you on your home lands, at random? There is no reason why Akilia is the only one to send agents to operate in foreign lands.

Ostini marks a pause, then goes on:

"Fortunately, I am not paranoid. I am simply the chief of the guard. An extremely cautious chief of guard, taking his job to heart. The Atakorums, you said?"

"You can't blame them. They have nothing to do with it. We give them meat that we hunt in exchange for poison. They could not know that the meat was prepared in the tavern. What? We used your knives? Big deal!"

Ostini taps faster and faster on the desktop. Maybe he's a little paranoid after all.

"I need to analyze this poison. Where is it? Luckily, I happen to have a little expertise in poison. A knowledge that comes from my former clan."

"You'll have to ask Eeri. She's the one who stashed it."

"I see."

"And don't worry, we don't look like killers. As for the horrors of Akilia, well, we gave it back to her."

Ostini makes a sign to the guards.

"One of you take him somewhere else, and the other one get the girl back to me. Make sure they don't cross paths."

The two guards nod and signal Azazor to get up. He stands up without any resistance and turns to the chief of the guards.

"Ostini? If you want to make Eeri talk, be polite to the lady. She too, vomits the Matis."

"Racist too? Surprising."

"You really don't know the Matis of the New Lands…

One guard accompanies Azazor and the other one goes to the cell where Eeri is locked up. As requested, the two Fyros will not cross paths.

***

"Follow me," says the guard to Eeri.

Eeri grumbles something, then stands up without a word. She obediently follows the guard to Ostini's office where her gaze searches the whole room for Azazor, without success. She puts on a determined and pugnacious face.

"Good. Sit down."

He pauses and adds:

"Please."

Eeri complies, giving a sidelong look at the Matis, trying not to face him.

"I'd like you to explain to me what you and your comrade were up to with those meat-smelling bags. And what is this 'pact' that he mentioned, and that caused your fight."

Eeri remains silent for a moment, and looks at the Matis again, with a smirk on her face.

"What, he didn't say it all already?"

"I want to confront your versions."

Ostini looks closely at the Fyrossa's face.

"A Fyros does not lie. talen, the truth.

The Matis starts tapping on the desk again.

"I am listening."

Eeri fixes his eyes on the Matis' fingers for a moment.

"About what? What we were doing with that meat?"

"I'll repeat my questions: I'd like you to explain to me what you were doing with those bags that smell like meat. And what is the nature of this 'pact' you made with whoever. I expect answers, not questions.

Eeri holds back a grunt.

"I can't say anything about this pact, I don't know what you are talking about. What I can say, is that we exchanged some pieces of meat with some Atakako… dey… Atakorums."

Eeri continues, not waiting for the Matis to ask against what.

"In exchange for a very powerful poison."

"May I see this poison?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, says the matis with a sigh."

"We will have to go to the stable."

"Just tell me where it is hidden."

"You won't find it without me."

Ostini grits his teeth… Then he calms down. He stands up.

"Right."

[b]He straps a dagger to his belt and signals to the guard."

"Direction to the stable then."

As she stands up, Eeri remembers that the poison is in a matis-made vial. She stammers:

"It is on my mektoub. I changed the vial, the one of the Ata…takorum was too fragile."

Eeri gets up and follows the guard. The three homins head towards the stable, located next to the dormitory. Then she adds, in a not too confident voice.

"I don't know where they got that poison from. It probably didn't come from their place."

"If it didn't come from their place, then it came from our. But don't worry, that's a question I can answer."

The adrenalin going to her head, Eeri doesn't answer. The three homins finally arrive in front of the mektoub. After the terrible journey he went through a few weeks earlier, he seems to be living a better life.

She grabs the mektoub's harness, unties two straps, which frees the pack a bit. She reaches behind it and delicately pulls out a small black box, the size of a dagger. She adds:

"I put it in the vial I brought with me, with a Matis paralytzing poison. Nothing too harmful. This one seems much more powerful."

***

Meanwhile, in his cell, Azazor is having scruples and is walking around in circles. Eventually he calls for a guard.

"Yes?"

"I have something else to tell your boss."

"He is busy. But I don't think he's done with you. You can ask him later."

Azazor grunts a little, perfunctory.

***

"And what did you do with the previous poison?"

Eeri opens the box, and reveals a vial, and a living dagger.

"Spilled. But the vial was intact, luckily."

Eeri looks at Ostini with his most convincing look, thinking that the bigger it is, the better it goes.

"We wanted to test in on the kitins of the Old Lands. Paralytic poison. It works pretty well our place."

Ostini gently picks up the vial and looks at it.

"I'll keep this. I'll keep this. And you go back to your cell."

He waves to the guard again.

Eeri replaces the straps of her mektoub and follows the guard. She turns and says to the Matis, in a squeaky voice:

""Be careful, though. They told us that one drop would kill a homin in two minutes. Not that I'd cry about it…"

"I know poisons well, don't worry. But this one… It doesn't look familiar," he says, looking at the vial.

***

Eeri is led back to the cell. Azazor is still in a room adjacent to the cells with the other guard. Minutes pass and the two Fyros are finally led back to the Matis' office. The two guards seat them next to each other, but these don't exchange any glance.

Ostini, sitting behind his desk, seems colder than before. He rolls Eeri's vial between his hands. A guard whispers something in his ear and his gaze falls on the Fyros.

"Did you want to tell me something? The truth, perhaps? That might be useful, indeed."

Eeri remains silent, and gives a sidelong look at Azazor, who begins to speak:

"ney… But first, tell me the Truth. You told me about Akilia, about her goons. Tell me if I'm wrong but… you don't seem to be too fond of her, do you? I know well that she is your leader, but you have nothing to fear, we won't repeat."

"Indeed, I don't hold her in my heart. And no, she is not my 'leader'… But I am not in the mood to speak about Akilia."

"Yet she declares herself the leader of the Marauders," Azazor continues.

Ostini ignores Azazor's last remark and continues:

"You see, I showed your vial to three Atakorums present at this very moment in the tavern. Do you know the rest?

Azazor loses his smile and, looking grave, looks at Ostini. The Matis lets a few seconds pass, then repeats himself, emphasizing each word.

"Do. You. Know. The rest?"

"The Atakorums had nothing to do with that, says Azazor. We just hijacked some food that we stashed in the desert for the rest of our trip. And the vial is from the New Lands. I can't say anything about it, having discovered its existence by chance in the Sea of Wood."

Eeri lets out a loud, upset sigh.

"We arrived here with a full loaded mektoub. We gave you everything…"

Ostini shows a satisfied smile. He seems proud of himself.

"Or rather, you took everything from us," she adds.

Azazor turns to Eeri.

"They're merchants here, what did you expect?"

"You paid for your stay here. And you could have kept working to get food. But you chose to steal from us instead."

"We didn't steal anything," Azazor growls.

"To get food? We work like crazy, and that's just enough to pay for your dorm!" adds Eeri.

Ostini raises his hand and beckons the two Fyros to silence.

"This food, we hunted and prepared it," Azazor adds anyway.

"Save your plea for my boss. My real boss, not Akilia. I did my part of the work."

Ostini gets up and heads for the door.

"I'll be right back."

Azazor turns to Eeri.

"You and your stupid ideas…"

"The Atakorums was your idea," she whispers to Azazor.

"You had a better idea?"

"dey! But sometimes it's better to just keep silent…"

"You think that saying nothing would have made a difference? Pfff !"

***

A few minutes later, the door opens. Ostini is accompanied by a Trykeri. A Trykeri that the Fyros have already crossed very often.. O'Teelo, the tavern keeper. The two Fyros are astonished. Eeri widens his eyes and gives O'Teelo a tense smile, in doubt. Azazor imitates Eeri like a mirror.

"Thanks Ostini, I'm borrowing your office. Can you take care of the bar while I take care of them?"

"What? Uh, yes. Sure."

Ostini sends an angry smile to the two Fyros and then leaves the room. The two guards remain present. The Trykeri slumps down on the seat and puts her boots on the desk of the Matis, who would probably not appreciate the gesture if he were present. She seems far less friendly than usual.

"I hear you've been embezzling goods that belongs to us."

"Embezzling? No… We have produced more than enough," Eeri protests.

"Technically, it's not your belongings since we're the ones hunting and cooking," adds Azazor.

O'Teelo does not pick up Azazor's remark and continues:

"I've been watching and listening to you a lot over the past three weeks. To tell you the truth, I was beginning to like you. Especially since you're an extremely good cook! But this… This is serious."

Eeri, perplexed, looks at Azazor and, doubting that this is the right strategy, tries to get her neuron to work out a better one. O'Teelo continues:

"You want to talk 'technique' with a merchant, Azazor? If I understand correctly, your thing is politics, alcohol and fighting."

"And a sense of justice," says Azazor.

"And the cooking of the bodoc," adds Eeri, half-heartedly.

"You think it's fair to exploit people? We just wanted to pay ourselves properly by taking some extra meat," says Azazor.

"Otherwise, we won't last two days in the desert," added Eeri.

"So why cover it up? Why didn't you discuss it?"

"Because you are rascals," the Fyros almost shouted. "We too have been watching you. We had to give you all our stock of dried meat just to enter the camp and sleep for two nights in your dormitory."

[Eeri winces at Azazor's words and elbows him, hoping he will shut up.

"So you both survived two more nights thanks to us. Then three weeks more," says O'Teelo.

"Ostini, whom we thought was the leader, did not seem open to discussion," Azazor points.

"Or rather, he was happy to take all the stock we had, adds Eeri. After three days, we had nothing left. And nothing left to buy anything…"

"Ostini, the boss? O'Teelo sneers. He is only the chief of the guard. A good chief, by the way, paranoid as can be. It's often very useful."

Eeri raises an eyebrow at "good chief, by the way". O'Teelo continues:

"That's why we hired you. To help you."

"We have the experience with the Marauders of the New Lands. So don't be surprised if we didn't play it straight from the start. Especially after being racketed at the entrance."

Eeri nods in support of Azazor's words, who is ruminating alone in a low voice: "Merchants, thieves, like the Trykers, all of them are…."

O'Teelo grimaces.

"Don't compare us to those barbarians. And you two don't talk to me about racketeering, you don't know anything about this country. You come from a world where everything seems easy. Haven't you wondered how hard it was to create this outpost, and to keep it going for all these decades? Yes, life is hard here. That's a fact. But better that than death.

Eeri takes a deep breath:

"Well, we screwed up. What can we do now to make up for it?"

O'Teelo looks at the Fyrossa.

"That's a good question."

"You have Eeri's vial of poison, isn't that enough for a few pieces of meat? Or do we have to give you our armor and underwear too?

O'Teelo looks at the Fyros armor.

"No thanks, I'm fine."

Eeri turns to Azazor.

"Don't add to it. They have no use for a poison like that, either."

"If you say so…"

Eeri arouses O'Teelo's curiosity.

"And what is its use?"

Eeri points to the palm of his hand, which shows a black spot.

"I never tested it. But I can tell you that I suffered to get it."

"Who do you want to poison, asks O'Teelo?"

"Yes, who do you want to poison," squeaks Azazor, turning to Eeri.

"No one in particular," answers Eeri. "If I came across your Akilia, I might not mind. It was just a matter of not to leave unequipped, and at worst it could have been a bargaining chip. I intended to try this on kitins from the Old Lands, too."

"If you're looking for Akilia, head back west. She must be somewhere between the New Lands and her headquarters."

Eeri shakes her head.

"We're not looking for her."

"In any case, it is certain that I will not let you progress to the east with an unknown poison. Ostini thinks you are assassins sent on a mission to the Citadel," O'Teelo sneers.

[b[Azazor turns to Eeri.[/b]

"And another toubshit from Eeri, one!"

"Oh, hey, it's okay… We wouldn't be here if you hadn't thought of saying that."

"Okay, then. What do you have to offer, then? For this stolen meat supply."

"That's not even worth the armadai meat we brought in," Eeri grumbled.
"Sorry, I know, it doesn't matter," she adds, lowering her eyes.

O'Teelo seems to be thinking.

"You know what? Maybe you could do us a favor…"

"That's all we can do. We don't have anything else to offer."

"A delivery mission. You'll get to keep the meat, and even get a little extra for the… long detour you'll have to make."

"Will this detour go through the place where we stashed the meat?" Azazor asks.

Eeri nudges him again.

"Aza… that's a detail."

"If you don't make it to the indicated point, I will know. Either it will mean that you died on the way, or it will mean that you preferred to rip us off a second time by continuing on YOUR way. If this is the case, try not to pass by the Outpost again on your way back… Also try to avoid Sentinel and the Citadel…."

"Where is the delivery located?"

"In the south, on the coast. The network of Zinuakeens does not yet cover the southwestern part of the desert, which makes it difficult to communicate with our relic hunters."

"It can't be worse than going back to the Oflovak Halt. We'll do it. I guess you agree, Azazor?"

"What should we deliver?" he asks in a grumble.

"A trinket."

"On one condition," Azazor replies. "We need a map of this detour."

"It might help… At least for knowing where to go.

"Of course you'll have one. I don't intend to send you to your death," says O'Teelo, a satisfied smile on his face.

The two Fyros, still sitting side by side across from the Trykeri, find it hard to hide their relief.

"While we're there, is there anything in particular you need us to bring back?" Eeri asks.

"Perhaps someone will give you another delivery mission, yes. It's up to you whether you take it or not. But as far as I'm concerned, I'm only hiring you for this delivery."

"akep. Uh… thanks."

"What I'm curious about is how you'll know that we made this delivery," asks Azazor… "What's this trinket?"

"I'll know, because if you do, there will be a new Zinuakeen."

Azazor nods, trying to hide his extreme interest in the 'trinket'.

"The object, in itself, is not particularly valuable. I would hate to lose it, of course. But the main problem is its delivery in those hostile lands."

Eeri prefers not to know what it is about, and is almost smiling in front of O'Teelo.

"So we're free to go?"

"If you want us to make this delivery, we're going to need equipment," cuts in Azazor.

Eeri chuckles slightly, well recognizing Azazor in this words.

"We can't ask for too much, can we?"

"I say that in the interest of the mission," says Azazor, taking a serious look."

"You are free to go back to the kitchen and work. I still have a couple of things to take care of on my end before you leave. Again, I'm not sending you to your death. You will have what you need to travel to the coast, both in terms of information and equipment. But it is mostly your resourcefulness that you will have to rely on." While saying so, O'Teelo puts Eeri's vial in his pocket.

"Be careful with the vial. And I must give you something else. On the one hand, an antidote. And on the other hand, a piece of advice… Never touch this dagger without first putting on a glove…" Eeri adds, shaking his head "… because I like you after all."

"What dagger?"

"The one in the box on the table there."

O'Teelo cautiously opens the box and observes the dagger. Eeri shows the palm of his hand again.

"This is a Matis weapon. And, in our regions, Matis are foolish enough to make weapons more dangerous to those who carry them than to those who are hit with them. There is no antidote for the poison of the handle."

"Um, okay. Now that our 'friendship' is sealed with a contract, can you tell me why you're traveling? Simply science and a thirst for adventure, truly?

"How much are you paying for this information?" Azazor asks.

Eeri sighs.

"Azazor… you are despairing."

"Eeri, we talk to hagglers here. So we haggle."

O'Teelo smiles.

"How much do you estimate its value?"

"A Marauder's armor. But we can negociate."

"A suit of armor? Um, I'm fine with that."

"One for of each of us, that goes without saying, since we each have a different reason for being here," adds Azazor.

"I don't mind. That's not a big deal."

"It's worth a lot to us. Home, we even have Marauders waging war to other Marauders for them to get. But I don't want to tattle…"

O'Teelo scratches her head.

"If it helps you understand why we have a bad opinion of you…" Eeri adds.

O'Teelo sits back in the chair and looks at the two Fyros with a concerned look.

"The Throat Cutters' Clan, the Black Sawdust Clan, the Ashes Clan, and more generally all the goons of Akilia, represent only themselves. Well… This is my opinion. That's not shared by all. One thing is however certain: Akilia does not represent, in her behavior at least, the whole of the Marauders. If by miracle, you find a way to reach the Citadel, you will be able to see that with your eyes. We are not savages. And I hate to think that some people think that about us, while in the east many of us are fighting day and night against the kitins."

The leader then rests her elbows on the table and lifts her chin toward Azazor.

"If I have your word, then it's okay," he says. "The reason I am here is to go to the lost city of Coriolis, in the desert of my ancestors. I want to find out the mystery of the Fire reported in our chronicles. I also want to study the kitins there, and of course make a map of the place. A little more too, even if I don't have too much hope about that: I would like to establish a first contact with the Marauders to discuss with them about a possible exchange of knowledge with the Empire."

Eeri speaks in turn, after a moment of spinning her words in his head.

"My reason will not be easy for you to understand, I imagine. Back home, I am a Trytonist. We are also called Elias seekers."

"I see," replies O'Teelo.

"I guess I have no reason to hide my beliefs here. I'm looking to verify some old theories, some evidence. Just like Azazor the fire of Coriolis, among others. Also to meet scientists, in the east. And… An old dream. I wouldn't want to die without having seen the city of Fyre with my own eyes. Or what's left of it…"

O'Teelo takes a serious look.

"You know that you have a very high likelihood of dying? The Oflovak Road is but a pleasure garden compared to what lies beyond the Citadel."

"We are Fyros," says Azazor.

"We'll see in due time," says Eeri, shrugging his shoulders.

"No, you are, above all, homins from the New Lands, used to being brought back to life by the Powers. Whether you believe it or not, thatt affects the way you act and think. I mean no disrespect, but you have grown up in an 'under-bubble' world."

"After several years on the Road, I can assure you that's changed", says Eeri.

"That's possible, yes, but the day when we'll back off has not yet come," adds Azazor.

"I speak with all the facts. I've seen the new generation, both in Sentinel and in the Citadel, start to get used to resurrection… It changes the way one looks at life."

"You have resurrection at the Citadel?" Azazor choked.

O'Teelo raises her eyebrows.

"Akilia and her goons would have brought the Marauders' resurrection system to the New Lands without it existing at the Citadel? That doesn't make any sense. Well, anyway…"

O'Teelo stands up, and walks towards the door, waving the guards to leave.

"… To the kitchens, you two!"

Eeri whispers to Azazor:

"It's Ostini who's going to make a face…"

"Yep, so much the better."

Eeri smiles with all his teeth. Azazor returns her smile.

"By the way Eeri, you are a very poor trader. The information about the dagger, you should have sold it…"

Azazor leaves the room whistling, followed by an Eeri too relieved to protest.

"Eeri stopped pulling on the rope and waved the mektoub to stop too. Then she sat down, ignoring the moans that echoed off the sides of the rift, for a moment.

"Stop gesticulating!!" she finally shouted.
"But what the hell are you doing? Pull me up!"
"The rope is stuck, don't move. I can handle it."

Eeri stood still, one eye on the axe she had laid on the ground earlier, as she hurriedly took out a rope to rescue the Fyros.

"All it would take is one sharp blow," she muttered. "Like with the frippos."

Leave him there? Azazor had nearly gotten them killed.

Hesitation. In combat, one never hesitates. You strike where you know the enemy will be hurt. But no. He, with a hatchet in his hand, simply parries the blows, without counterattacking.

Against a pike, it's double or nothing. Armed with a hatchet, one can take advantage of the length of the opponent's weapon and the time lapse of inertia after the attack to throw a blow where it hurts. In this case, at the belt or at the neck. Twice Aza had the opportunity to strike. But he settled for waiting, giving his opponents the seconds they needed to figure out his moves. Hell of a Fyrak of ramèch, I don't like hitting homins from behind. But here, it was either that or let Azazor get pierced once more.

The remaining two, presumably younger, chose to ran off when they saw the second homin collapse. This is not a good sign, as it means that if they have been able to go and alert their tribe we will end up with some other homins on our backs. If Azazor could have get rid of his opponent alone, I could have taken out the other two. A well-placed axe blow for the first, then the chase of the other before finishing him with the dagger. But no, I had to turn around to save Azazor. What a waste.

And when I told him that we should expect them to bring back their tribe… He shut up, but that must have panicked him, and now he doesn't look where he's stepping. If he does it again, where we're going, I'm going to get killed for sure. So why not leave him there? But no, I'll go crazy if I go on alone. Two of us got here, two of us have to go on. And if the rope has to break… Well, a sharp blow… No, still. But…

"What the hell are you playing at???"

The bellowing of the Fyros brought Eeri out of her thoughts. She stood up with a sigh, gave Run-dun's ass a big pat, and started pulling on the rope again.

"It's coming, it's coming. You weigh your weight, you know…"

A few days later, the two homins were still walking a few meters away from the precipice, in order to keep a good view on this piece of desert, below. The landscape was changing little by little, becoming more rolling, as if roots under the ground were pushing and sculpting the sawdust. In the distance, what O'teelo had called "Umawaka" appeared in the mist: an impassable mountain range, a tangle of gigantic roots that delimited this desert to the south, and which, if one believed the map of the Clan leader, extended up to the Citadel. With each step they took, this mountain range seemed to grow more and more gigantic, as if it had emerged from the bowels of Atys. In some places, sharp, bare peaks of bark loomed up the sky. In others, they were covered with vegetation, so much so that they wondered if they were not the beginnings of a canopy in the making.

The meeting point could not be far away, as she had described it as near that mountain below. They stopped for a moment to scan the horizon and the desert, hoping to make out a village or any trace of homin life. Eeri came dangerously close to the edge, to observe the cliff face they were overlooking.

"Azazor?"
"Hmmm?"
"You think too much. If this is going to happen again, think that it's either them or us."
"I wasn't prepared to fight. Not this way."
"Next time, hit. Block, and hit. Where it hurts, where you would not like to be hit."
"All right, that's all right, I know."
"The surprise, the speed. Them, if they fight, they know that it is at the risk of their life. They won't hesitate."
"But the counter-attack implies taking risks. It was okay at home, but here... How did you stay so damn cold?"
"For years I've been working hard to learn to fight in a way so that I don't have to call on the Powers. With the idea that maybe one day Trytonists would manage to bring freedom to the hominity. Keeping a cold and analytical mind is the first thing."
"Do you still believe in it? Freedom?"

The Fyrossa straightened up and took a few steps away from the edge.

"No, I don't anymore. I have no hope anymore for the nations. Now I think it's enough to get away. Or become a Ranger... Or a Marauder. Maybe it's the same thing. But freedom, no. That doesn't exist, even here."

Azazor hesitated for a moment:

"But then, you don't believe in anything anymore...?"
"I believe in survival. I believe that if you jeopardize this journey again, I will leave you in the lurch and go on alone."
"You what???"
"But I like you nonetheless. I couldn't have made it this far on my own."
"Hrmf... Yeah. akep."
"And the trouble with being alone is that you don't have no more anyone to blame for the shit you do."

After these words, Eeri sat down with a smile.

"Come on, relax. I've got a proposition for you, about the delivery."

Azazor did not move, keeping scanning the horizon.

"I'm listening."
"Given the cliff, if there is no path, we can't risk our mektoubs."
"So you want to go down alone. I knew you'd suggest that."
"It's less risky."
"What if you don't come back?"
"Or you can go down and I'll keep the mektoubs. That's OK with me too."

Azazor grunted something unintelligible, his eyes still fixed on the distance. Eeri added a layer, grumbling:

"But I've seen your talent for climbing..."
"We'll talk about it when we find out where to climb down," answered Azazor, putting his bag back on his shoulders.
"You're right. Let's not dawdle."

The two Fyros set off again, heading south, without even glancing behind them to see if they were being followed or not. The evening wind was starting to blow, but they were still able to walk for a few hours.

In front of the desert that appears before him, Azazor can't help but have a whiff of nostalgia for his own, the one he left years ago. The sawdust seems coarser here, or is it his memories that are getting muddled? The wind, coming from the east, seems to rush to the foot of the cliff, causing the agitation of the two mektoubs tied not far away. Their mooings seem to answer the whistling of the wind in a kind of mournful lament. He has never felt melancholy in his own desert. But here, everything is different. At the same time so far from his relatives, and so close to his ancestors.

It has been three days since Eeri left. Three days since he saw her abseiling down the cliff, clinging to a rope whose attachment to a root sticking out of the sawdust she took care to check before harnessing herself to it. It was as if she had been doing this her life long. Will she come back? Are the Marauders in this clan as friendly as those in the Diplomatic Outpost? Actually, "friendly" is a bit of a strong word. Let's say civilized. With a certain sense of honor. There is no reason for Eeri to be badly received. Doesn't she bring them the "trinkets" necessary for the functioning of their zinuakeen?

Their camp has been set up in the wreckage of a large Karavan ship. This one, as seen from here, is well over fifty meters long. How was it destroyed? It's hard to say. Would kitins be able of such a destruction? Or the Kamis? Besides, the wreck, as far as he can see, must date from the first Great Swarming. Part of it seems to be buried in sawdust, or rather covered by it. From afar, the carcass of the vessel seems quite dark. He is unable to recognize any of the ships that can be seen in the New Lands. Perhaps it is an old model, formerly used in the Old Lands and whose specimens are now all crushed into ruins, for some obscure reason. After the wreckage north of Fort Beacon, from which the Rangers retrieved what they needed to build the lighthouse's lighting system, this is the second Karavan ship ruin he comes across, and the first he sees with his own eyes. Here, the Karavan seems very fragile, as if in decay. Besides, he hasn't heard of the Kamis either. It seems that the Powers have deserted these places. Only the homins survive, reappropriating the ruins of the past, building new cities, not losing hope. He had decidedly misjudged the Marauders. At least those living here.

Eeri must be down there with them now, probably in one of the rooms of the ship rearranged as a living space, sipping a baba or slurping a piece of fire-roasted varinx. Maybe they're laughing, thinking how lucky they are to have run into her, that she'll teach them how to cook meat, that they need a butcher, that she could stay… He wouldn't even blame her doing so. He knows that it will happen. He has seen the look in her eyes when she talked about these homins, about the harshness of life here. She likes that. Here, though she denies it, she would at last feel free. This is the life she has always dreamt of. So why should she continue to bother with a fat, clumsy Fyros who can't take down a mere bandit? He doesn't deserve her..

Azazor observes the dunes behind him. Dunes that are already very dark, standing out like silhouettes against the purple sky. That's where they come from. If they have been followed, that's where the attack will come from. For three days he's been dreading the possibility that they'll fall on him. If that were to happen, he would not fight and would go down the rope, leaving the mektoubs. In the past, he would have stayed to fight, shouting cal i selak at the top of his lungs, banging his hatchet against his shield, convinced he was an exceptional warrior, sure he could kill Fyrak itself, because the fear of death was not yet part of his conceptions. But not anymore. Since the Titus episode, and especially since his fight with those bandits, he knows what dying means. And that haunts him. You think you're brave, but you don't know what it is until you're actually near death. What he hopes is that one day he too will be able to face death, to defy it by hitting his shield. Like Eeri… Eeri who will not return. For he has nothing left for himself. Not even the respect of the Truth. And she knows it now, since he told her his secret, his lie, which he has been carrying like a burden for decades…

Five days earlier, as Eeri and Azazor stopped in the shade of a dune to eat their lunch ration and take a break…

"Eeri, I have to confess something to you."

The Fyrossa looks up from his grilled yubo paw, looking laughing.

"What? Your parents were Matis?"
"I'm serious."
"Oh… Come on, I'm listening."

The Fyros takes a deep breath, as if he was about to reveal some dark secrets.

"I lied… once.
"Hahaha, just once? Well, that's okay then, exclaims the Fyrossa, relieved."
"No, that was a big lie."
"What do you mean?"
"I made someone believe that I was his father."

Eeri remains silent, her eyes wide open.

"There was this little Trykera, found by Rangers in Silan. Galdor, a friend of my parents and who raised me after my father's death, took her in and raised her as his daughter. When I learned of her existence, when she was about ten years old, I had an idea.

The Fyrossa reels in her hand, as if to tell the Fyros to continue.

"I thought to myself that at that age, one was easily manipulated. So with Galdor, we started to tell a completely different story. He thanks to his daily contact with her and I through letters I sent her. A story claiming I was her real father, but that I couldn't raise her because I was too busy. And that her mother had been killed by Matis. That the Empire was the most beautiful, the greatest.
"A nice indoctrination…
"That's it.
"And what did this Trykera become?
"I gave her a mission when she reached sixteen. To infiltrate the Kingdom and give me information.

Eeri raises her eyebrows in surprise.

"A spy of some sort?"
"Yes. I didn't think she would do so well. Before we left, she had managed to become a subject of the kingdom and was considering becoming a servant to a noble house."
"You mean she's still spying?"
"Yep, at least when I left she was. I told her to pass on her future reports to Naveruss."
"'Big thighs' knows about this? Well…"
"The worst part is that she still thinks I'm her father. I betrayed a fundamental pillar of the Empire by lying to her."
"If the truth were really the value of the Fyros Empire, it would have collapsed by now. Sometimes the important thing is just to believe in something. The truth, I gave up long ago."

With that, Eeri looks thoughtful and says nothing more, just rolling the half-gnawed yubo thigh between her fingers. She too would have things to confess. The Fyros notices this and looks at her with insistence.

"Do you have something to tell me? I can feel you worrying."
"dey, I was just thinking about our old home," lies the Fyrossa.
"Ah…"

Azazor stirs the sawdust on the floor with his foot. He too thinks a lot about his old home.

"So, did you ever feel like telling your spy the truth?"
"Yes, several times I thought I should tell her. But each time, she gave me good information. I told myself that if I revealed the masquerade, she would take it badly and stop doing the job. A job she's good at, too."
"Oh, you think she's going to take it the wrong way if you tell her that the guy she thinks is her father for years is actually an imposter who's manipulating her? I don't know why you're saying that…"
"All right, stop with the irony. I have a guilty enough conscience as it is. The worst thing is if I tell her and she starts talking…"
"What are you afraid of? That the Matis would be angry with you? I reassure you, it is already the case. You all the same insulted the king's mother in front of her son on the day of her funeral. So, them learning that you tried to spy on them…"
"Mm, yeah…"

Azazor remains pensive for a few moments, keeping his eyes lowered towards the sawdust. Shame gnaws at him, the lie being for him like a stain. Finally, after a silent moment, he raises his head and looks Eeri straight in the eyes.

"If I die, will you tell her?"
"That you are not her father?"
"ney. Her name is Be'Lauren."
"ney, count on me. But you'll tell her yourself, because you're not gonna die."
"If you say so…"

Yes, he'll tell her everything. Whatever Eeri says, the truth is sacred. Without it, the Fyros people can only let themselves die.

Eeri stuck her pickaxe into a piece of bark that was sticking out of the sawdust and pulled herself up, once again. For several hours she had been climbing, losing hope of reaching the top of the cliff. It had been impossible for her to find the place where she had left hanging the rope she had used to descend part of the cliff. She had to climb up without any clue as to the path ahead. At each piece of bark or each crevice in the sawdust, she repeated the same process: plant the pickaxe, pull herself up, wedge one of her feet where she could, and try to locate the next support, higher. For hours. Until she hesitated, so different did the piece of bark seem from the others, at this place. It was a Fyros arm.

"Grab my hand!"
"Aza!! Grab my pickaxe rather!"

The Fyros hoisted Eeri, who breathed a sigh of relief before collapsing a few feet from the edge. She asked him for a moment of rest in order to catch her breath, before answering all his questions. Yes, she had things to tell about her few days down there. Starting with the place. An old Karavan ship. Relatively large, at least larger than the ones they could usually see on the New Lands. Quite different in appearance, too. Abandoned for years, maybe centuries. A relic of the first Swarming? It had crashed there at an angle, in the sawdust. This group of Marauders had settled there for an indeterminate period of time, and their plan was to head back north, leaving a few homins garrisoned on site. The delivery was a key element that they were waiting for in order to finish their work.
Their leader was Li-Yon, an imposing Zorai with a mask tattooed entirely in black, with a disturbing look, although he had been relatively friendly with Eeri. A researcher, as he introduced himself, just like most of the homins here. He explained that it was not really a clan. Rather, several homins from different clans, recruited according to their technical knowledge. In fact, many Trykers and Zorais, some Matis who seemed to be assigned to guard duties. Few fyros.

Eeri was allowed to stay for two nights, before resuming her journey. She was given a small, rundown looking room in the ship, furnished with a small bed propped up by pieces of wood. The whole structure being slanted, it was not so easy to move from one room to another, other than in the parts the Marauders had already refitted. Here and there, the walls were covered with colored protrusions, little red or green pushers, surfaces made of a strange smooth, greenish material. All this must have had a function, but seemed to have been out of order for a long time. The Zoraï gave her a tour of what was left of the ship, avoiding the central room, under the pretext that the homins who worked there needed a lot of concentration. He remained relatively vague on the nature of their works.

"So, did they give you something to eat? To drink?"
"Hmmm, nothing too fantastic. I offered to cook their meat our way, but they refused."
"It's better, they would have kept you."
"I'm thankfully dey! Friendly, but suspicious, and then almost only homins. They seemed really happy to get these trinkets, so their leader was courteous enough to leave me a room with a door that locks. Also to keep an eye on me, I think."
"It's true that you tend to get pregnant at the wrong times," Azazor said, shaking his head.
"And they're not bad... but they're not very talkative either," continued the Fyrossa without picking up on Azazor's remark.
"What did you expect?"
"Nothing special. Deliver the thing, and leave."
"But you surely asked them some questions, didn't you?"

Azazor looked at Eeri with a pout he had developed over the course of the trip, which he pouts every time he was not convinced by what the Fyrossa was telling him. He let her continue to speak, without commenting anything. Eeri answered with a smile:

"I have asked some, but you know me. I'm too direct, I never manage to get information discreetly..."
"Nothing at all?"
"I... think they have an almost working Zinuakeen. And then, what I already told you. Oh, and yes, they did give me some tips on how to continue the journey towaeds Sentinel. Nothing too difficult for the path. This way..."

Eeri pointed east, towards the mountain range.

"That we already knew."
"And another thing too: a few hours' walk away, there's a path, on a root, to the south. Marked by a beacon."
"What is it for?"
"An access to the Wide Puddle. Li-Yon thought we might be interested in seeing it. It's another day's walk. There is a root that crosses the mountain."

The next morning, Azazor and Eeri finish repacking their makeshift camp on the back of the two mektoubs. The waves have calmed down a bit this morning. During the night, they rocked them, making them live their most beautiful night for a long time. While Eeri picks up a few seashells as a souvenir on the shore, Azazor finishes harnessing the last mektoub. In a joyful mood, he gives her a smile. The Fyrossa gives it back to him without forcing herself. Behind her, the stretch of water brings a breeze coming from the sea which raises her red hair. The Fyros, in front of this vision, cannot help smiling even more. He had not felt this feeling for her since this torrid night in the Baths of Pyr.

Suddenly, behind Eeri, the water starts to swell and a titanic creature emerges. It opens wide a mouth filled with sharp teeth. This one closes on Eeri, whose superior part of body is soon completely swallowed in the mouth of the monster. Azazor rushes towards the Fyrossa and grabs her legs before the monster was able to take her to the bottom. Resisting as he can, he does not manage to retain it and is himself dragged in water, pulled by the superhuman strength of the creature. While he screams at the top of his lungs all the rage of despair, he manages in a last effort to pull Eeri's body from the beast's grip. He then falls backwards, slumping his buttocks in the water. The prakker, because such is the name of the beast, plunges back in the water in a whirlwind of wave. Completely distraught and still clinging to Eeri's legs, he pulls her hastily out of the water.
Only when he finds himself dry on the shore, he finally notices that the girl has been literally cut in two at the level of the waist, the monster having carried away the other half in its stomach. A trail of viscera is visible on the beach, where the upper half of Eeri's body has been taken. Looking with horror at the bloody legs of his friend, Azazor lets out a howl of terror. Eyes rolling back, not able to stop staring at the legs that are bleeding on the beach, he falls to his knees, while the prakker fades away on the horizon.
Death here is irrevocable, he knows it. He lets out another howl to the sky as Eeri's lower body lies there, dripping his guts and spurts of blood onto the knees of the now hopelessly alone Fyros.

                
Alone.

Alone!

Alone!!!

Thoughts fly in his head. With his mind muddled, he stands there, kneeling on the shore, his eyes bulging.

She is dead. Eeri is dead. DEAD! She will never come back. You don't rez here. You're all alone when death strikes. Still clutching Eeri's legs, he cannot bring himself to leave them there. Still warm, bloody, falling to dust...

To dust? Yes, Eeri's legs disintegrate before his eyes. Becoming dust again. Evaporating in the morning breeze...

Disappearing...

[...]

But then ?

[...]

BUT YES !

She is alive! She could rez! Probably near the Zinuakeen! SHE COULD REZ! HAHA...

???

What? She could rez? One needs to have a Marauder crystal to be rez'd at Zinuakeen. And Eeri never told him she had a...


"RAMECH! BITCH MATIS!!!" he yells all of a sudden.


This is why she wasn't afraid of death! "Yes, I fight like it's my last fight. Yes, I've been training. Yes, I'm such a badass and you fatty are a two week old yubo."

Bitch! Bloody degenerate Matissa! She's had a goddamn Maraud' crystal all this time! So yes, she can play the fearless warrior, my ass! Liar! Traitor!

He gets up with a leap, sweeping away the pile of dust that covered his legs with a wave of his hand. Then, talking to himself, he goes towards the mektoubs.

"Oh my dear Eeri, wait until I find you! You are going to know the Fyros fury. You'll see, now I'm going to strike as if it were my last fight. Don't worry about, Maraud': the fat Azazor's going to teach you to hide things like that from him!"

Pulling the two mektoubs without any care, the Fyros takes again the way crossing the cordillera, direction the Marauder campsite. A carnivorous smile to the lips, he is in a hurry, oh yes he is in a hurry to see again the dear red head of his "friend" Eeri. To discuss, exchange, knock and more if affinity.

                
She was awakened by a bucket of water on her head.

"You're back? You were missing us?

Eeri vomited, then collapsed on her back. The light was burning her eyes, and it took her a moment to make out what was surrounding her and come to her senses.

"You had to take a bad fall," Li-Yon said. "You were lucky you had that crystal."


***


Ever since that talk with Azazor a few days earlier, the Fyrossa had been thinking about the secret she would take with her if she fell off that cliff. The truth? No. Her life was now a huge web of lies, driven by her clumsy attempts to fix her past mistakes. She walked along, fiddling in her pocket with the Marauders Zin crystal she was carrying since the New Lands. What if it worked? Ever since O'Teelo, at the Cloudy Cliff Outpost, had told them about the presence of a teleporter network in the Old Lands, the Fyrossa had felt slightly reassured. Perhaps that was why she had fought those bandits and risked so much. But that was still something she could not tell Azazor about. A stupid imprudence that she disguised under a facade of arrogance. And the luck of having fallen on untrained homins. And if only this crystal worked, she would have to synchronize it with a teleporter first. This was a detail that the homins of the New Lands, accustomed to wandering these regions, no longer thought about.

No more imprudence. Especially not now.

In the end, the descent proved to be less laborious than Eeri had imagined. She threw an "oren fyraï" to Azazor, her voice slightly distorted by her apprehension, which she tried to hide as best she could, then launched herself. The idea of keeping a pickaxe in her right hand, which she stuck into the sawdust to swing from root to root, worked. Without that, she clearly wouldn't have found enough holds. Azazor would have managed too, no doubt, but someone had to guard the mektoubs, who obviously wouldn't have succed in climbing down. However, the apprehension was there, the fear of going down alone, without any help in case something happened.

A flood of memories came back to her mind, as she lay there on the ground. That moment when she had been able to approach the Zinuakeen, while the Marauders had their backs turned. Then the climb back up to Azazor. They had resumed their road, and decided to make this detour, to go and see this legendary immensity of water. After these days spent in the desert, taking a bath was worth one or two more days of walking. The moving and agitated waters of the Wide Puddle, so unlike those of the lake of Fairhaven. Then that night of calm, as if the predators had decided to give them a moment's respite. The next day... Had she not woken up? No more memories, everything was blurred, except for an image that seemed to encrust in her memories, a shell. Was it really a shell? She had never seen one like it before.


***

Eeri vomited a second time, which earned her a second bucket of water on her head.

"Where am I?"
"Back at the Zinuakeen."

Eeri sat up and rubbed her eyes, still feeling groggy. Yes, she knew where she was, there was no doubt about it, but she had asked the question for comfort. Li-Yon, in front of her, was looking at her from behind his black mask, twirling the crystal between his fingers.

"You could have told us you were one of us," the Zorai said after a moment that seemed like an eternity.
"I didn't think it would make much difference," Eeri replied.
"Really?"
"I tought that many of you here hold the Marauders of the New Lands in low regard. And especially their adoration for Akilia."
"And if even that was true, we weren't going to kill you for that."
"But you could do it now because I lied to you?"

Eeri made out a smile behind the Zorai's mask. He gave her back her crystal:

"No. We are only scientists."
"This is the first time I've been brought back since I left. It's been years..."
"Maybe our Zinuakeen aren't as comfortable as the ones where you come from."
"It's probably because we're not used to those here..."

Yes, it had to be lack of practice, thought Eeri, who had never used this crystal before. To say that was no lie.

"You can spend one more night here. I imagine you're looking forward to seeing your companion if he's still of this world. But after what you've just been through, it's best to rest. I must also thank you. Thanks to you, we know that the Zinuakeen is functional. That's lucky for you. So, with everything you've brought back, we can already start looking for where we'll set up the next one. Further north from here.

Eeri didn't answer anything but a nod of thanks, so much she tried to control her nervousness and trembling. She had to face the fact that she had not come far from never coming back. She still didn't understand how all this could have happened. Azazor... Let's hope he's safe. If he had seen her die and her body dematerialize, chances were he would understand where to find her. And she could always tell him she'd picked up a crystal at the camp here. Considering the present state of the truth between them... If not, he had probably come to terms and had go on his way. It would take her days of walking before she could catch up with him, without mektoub.

If only he were still of this world.

                
Azazor was here, sitting. He was waiting, looking at a campfire he hadn't even bothered to light in front of him, a few meters from the two mektoubs. This time, he did not extend his arm to help her, as she came, panting, to the end of her escalation. At the top, she stretched, then went to sit down opposite him, silently. He didn't move, but Eeri knew that he was silently ranting.

"You will excuse me, I had a small hitch," she said.

The Fyros raised his blue eyes towards her. Icy eyes.

"I owe you some explanations. I know I screwed up again. And that I'm very lucky."

She expected him to explode at any moment. But she took advantage of the quiet to continue.

"I'm glad to see you. I didn't know if you were still alive. I didn't think I was coming back either…"

Azazor exploded. He abruptly grabbed his axe as he stood up and threw a blow toward Eeri. With vivacity, she got up to dodge it, and moved back a few steps.

"RAMÈCH MATIS! SCUM OF THE BARK! YOU SLUT!! WHEN DID YOU INTEND TO SAY ME ABOUT YOU HAD BECAME MARAUDER?"

Eeri dodged another blow from the axe. Hitting his chest with his fist, he continued:

"THEN, GO AHEAD, HIT ME ! ME, I DON'T HAVE ANY CRYSTAL. IF I FALL, I FALL. I DIE. AND YOU WILL BE ALONE HERE. TRAITOR!! LIAR!!"

Azazor, enraged, attacked the Fyrossa again, who jumped aside and grabbed his shield hanging on the back of one of the mektoubs.

"KILL ME, YOU WILL SEE THAT I DO NOT HAVE CRYSTAL, ME! I KNOW WHAT IT IS TO FEAR DEATH!"
"And then, what does it change? I have a Marauder crystal, ney, so what? You should be happy to see me.

"WHAT DOES IT CHANGE?" he belched. "WE HAD A DEAL!!! NO MORE LIES!!! I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE A MARAUDER OR IF YOU FOUND THAT CRYSTAL IN A MEKTOUB'S ASS, BUT YOU LIED TO ME!"

Azazor attacked several times, Eeri tried to dodge his blows as she could. He finally planted his axe in the shield, and the Fyrossa took the opportunity to take a side step and grab the handle of Azazor's axe, in order to immobilize him. She added, a few centimeters from the Fyros' face:

"I am not a Marauder. I just did what was necessary to be able to use their technology. That's all."

Azazor yanked his axe out of the way, using all the strength he could muster, and sent Eeri flying a few feet away.

"I AM A DRAKANI," she shouted, crashing into the sawdust.

Azazor planted his axe in the campfire, exploding it on several meters around.

"Yeah that's for sure, you don't have anything of a Fyrossa anymore ! Lying so much, you became the shame of our race!"

"You want the truth, but you are not able to hear it," added Eeri. "Yes, I have a Marauder crystal. And I synchronized it down there, without even knowing it was functional. Do you think I'm proud? I was just lucky we were still in range of the Zinuakeen. I don't even remember what happened at the Wide Puddle…"

Azazor ranted, still clutching the handle of his axe, ruminating that she had lied. She added:

"And then, why did you come back here? Did you come back to whine because I lied to you? To prove to me once again that only your way is right? To blame me for the people I've been with? SO WHAT? IF YOU ARE NOT HAPPY TO SEE ME, GO ON ALONE!

The Fyros didn't answer anything, just looked coldly at the Fyrossa.

"But you have to be completely crazy… What did you think? That I was going to make such a trip without preparing anything? We were going to the Marauders! Do you really think there was any other option?"
"You just don't get it, do you? I don't care about your methods. You prefer manipulation, that's your choice. I'm even willing to admit that having a Maraud crystal was a good idea."

Eeri raised an eyebrow, taken aback.

"But you lied to me. Once again. One lies to enemies, not to friends."
"It's an obsession with you, right?" she said, sarcastically.

The Fyros did not raise and, after a deep breath, said in a surprisingly cold and calm voice:

"You can continue with me if you want. But know one thing, Eeri: I will never trust you again. You are no longer one of us and I no longer owe you the Truth."

Searching for words, he added:

"You are now… only a homina."
"Well… It doesn't change anything, you already didn't trust me. And I wasn't planning on coming back within the Empire, don't worry.

Azazor walked over to the mektoubs and began to pull them eastward. They didn't say another word until nightfall.

                
On the way to Sentinel, a few days after their altercation, they came across a group of three varinxes intent on making them their next meal. Azazor stopped but did not even take out his axe. He just stood there, placid. Until now, he had said almost nothing, only grunting when he had to communicate with Eeri. But this time, to the astonishment of the Fyrossa, he opened his mouth and said:

"Take care of them, immortal."

Eeri grumbled something in protest, but had no choice but to take out her axe as the varinxes were coming towards her, and managed to get rid of them. Fortunately, they were young males, probably expelled from their pack by the dominant male. Without much hunting experience, they only managed to bite Eeri's armor without hurting her. Once two of them were killed, the last one didn't have to be persuaded to skedaddle.

"You could have helped me," said Eeri.

The Fyros didn't answer and went back on the path to Sentinel, shooting the mektoubs without care.

***

Two days later, one morning, a new dramatic event occurred. Eeri had to go in search of a mektoub that during the night had managed to untie its harness to to go grazing a hundred meters away. Nonchalantly chewing the liketim that was growing thickly that winter, it was looking with a torpid eye at the homina coming towards it. When Eeri started sinking into what was obviously some shifting sawdust, he gave a slight moo and took up his meal where he had left it.

"ramèch!" said the homina, trying as best she could to get out of the sawdust's grip. But the harder she tried, the deeper she sank. The shifting sawdust was up to her waist when she decided to call for help to the fat Fyros who was eating his dried meat as a morning meal in the distance.

"Azaaa! Bloody mek... I'm sinking in shifting sawdust! Come and help me!"

The Fyros got up and approached Eeri, without haste.

"Wait, take the other mektoub with you and give me its tether. He will pull me out."

But the Fyros continued to advance towards the Fyrossa, watching where he put his feet. When he got as close as he could to her without having to put his feet in the shifting sawdust, he ducked down to her level. Eeri was then sunken up to the chest. She had stopped moving not to sink more, having understood that the more she would move, the more she would sink.

"What the hell are you doing? You think you can pull me out without the mektoub?"

He looked at her gravely but did not stretch out his hands towards her. His gaze was fixed on the Fyrossa trapped in the sawdust.

"Oh, okay, we get here? Is it the time you let me snuff it? What do you want? For me to apologize?"

The Fyros didn't move, still staring gravely at the Fyrossa.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't have any apologies to offer you. So let me die here if it makes you happy, but don't count on me to beg."

Azazor then took out a Marauder crystal from his armor pocket and showed it to the Fyrossa.

"What... Is it mine? When did you take this from me?"

"Last night. I've always slept with one eye open. And today you'll understand something."

Eeri looked at him defiantly.

"What makes us different is that I know what it is to be afraid of dying. And in that, I know true courage."

"You are crazy! Definitely crazy!"

"oren fyraï, Eeri."

He got back up and turned his back to her. Then he picked up the first mektoub and went to the camp to pick up the second. He took his time to harness them and when he had finished, he took a quick look at the Fyrossa still stuck in the sawdust and went back on the path to Sentinel.

- You're completely crazy!! DETAL!!!

Realizing that she would have to fend for herself, Eeri tried to slowly move her chest closer to the more solid edge. But while her upper body could still move, her legs remained frozen, as if embedded in the wood. Even though her bust movements were as light as possible, they had the effect that she sank a little further. The sawdust now reached almost to the base of her neck and she kept her arms raised above her. She screamed, with difficulty, hoping that some homin would pass by. But this path was not very frequented. She might as well hope that a varinx would come to her aid.

An hour passed without her sinking any deeper, but without managing to get even an inch out of that sawdust. That's it, she was going to end up like that. A head and arms sticking out of the sawdust, waiting to die of thirst or to be eaten by who knows what beastie. Death. The inevitable death was waiting for her. And this time, no more crystal to resurrect her. Anyway, even with one, she wasn't sure being close enough to a Zinuakeen for that.
She didn't think Azazor would do such a thing to her. He was resentful, sure, but enough to want to kill her? Even when he had attacked her with an axe, she had felt it was more an explosion of rage than a real attempt to kill her. But here, using trickery to kill her? He must have been really angry with her. You're not one of us anymore, he'd said. You're just a homina. She should have known better. If she was now nothing more than a homina, he could get rid of her. He had the crystal, he could pretend to be a Marauder. He didn't need her anymore. ramèch, yes, she had screwed up. And she was going to snuff it there, alone, and she didn't even know when...

Suddenly, a rope fell before her eyes and she grabbed it. Looking up at her benefactor, she saw a fat Fyros in Marauder armor and a weathered face. Azazor. He had tied the rope to the two mektoubs and was busy moving them forward to pull her out of the shifting sawdust. Eeri felt as if they were breaking her legs when they pull her along, but finally she managed to get out and found herself gasping for air outside the sawdust. Azazor didn't help her up, didn't ask her how she was doing, or even check to see if she could stand up on her own.
He simply took the mektub's reins and told her docently:

"The moving sawdust obeys, like any fluid, a simple principle. The vertical force directed upwards is equal to the weight of the volume of fluid displaced. You couldn't sink down enturely." 

Then, after a short pause, he added:

"Now you know what it is to be afraid to die.

Before the Fyrossa could say a word, he continued:

"And yes, I am crazy. So beware of me. Because one day I will let you die."

He dropped the Marauder crystal to the ground and pulled the mektoubs towards the east.