Chapter 9: Enderlithian

I think I’m at the stage where I need to rebuild my life. Oh, I’m going to lose it again before the year is done, but that’s not a reason not to create a temporary home. The couple drag me to a bank where I change credits against scrips used by the local bazaar, apparently a currency accepted by local food banks run by Benevolence. The dockside bazaar is the densest concentration of population I’ve ever seen, a maze of ramshackle constructions bound by stairs, lifts, ladders and some manner of structures I have no context for, just because it’s so vertical. Lighting comes from a multitude of bulbs and the few ships visible ‘above’ as they wait in countless berthings. Right now, the planet is right under us with the distant yellow sun shining on a placid ocean. The smells are too varied to describe.

 

I buy all I need to live in a variety of small shops filled to the brim with haphazardly placed crates. Many of the vendors don’t even speak So-Sah. Vargo sighs with annoyance, ready to step in, but I wave her away. This isn’t my first time being a gullible white tourist after all. With pointed fingers and grunts, I manage to haggle for most of everything. I’m happy Stone hovers around me the whole time because some of the greed I feel is turning dangerous. I’m still wearing the jumpsuit rather than my rich boy outfit so I suppose it’s just weakness they feel, not high profit.

 

I’m pretty sure the person who sells me a ‘rice’ cooker is a plant but it moved and accepted cash so I’ll take it. After we’re done, I invite the pair to a noodle joint as a gesture of thanks for covering my back for hours and also carrying some of my boxes. They didn’t have to do that.

 

Interesting to see that noodles are universal alongside ranged weapons and contempt for the poor. I need to ask SilSil if duct tape exists as well.

 

“It’s delicious,” I admit.

 

I wasn’t expecting much but the broth is wonderful, and they even have slices of some radish thing that just tastes refreshing. Honestly, I’m so starved for greens here I’d eat okra and I fucking hate okra. Enderlith is fun but I’m feeling weirdly overwhelmed.

 

“Good food here,” Vargo says. “This is a refuge hub. After ten years, they can turn rations into some fancy stuff even a patrician wouldn’t turn their nose at.”

 

She gives me a measuring look, curious. I shrug.

 

“Couldn’t say.”

 

“Just don’t talk about Obis,” Stone said, “and you will be mostly safe.”

 

“By that he means they’ll just rob you instead of shanking you, mud boy.”

 

“You mean the war, right?” I ask in a lower voice.

 

“Yeah,” Vargo replies while Stone’s soul snaps shut. “The Three Thrones. It’s been going for seven years now, almost since the beginning of the troubles. Back when Archon Vrok disappeared.”

 

I gesture for her to stop.

 

“What do you mean, disappear? How can someone disappear an archon?”

 

“No idea,” she replies.

 

“The reign of archons lasts up to a thousand cycles. It had been a thousand years since Vrok ascended from being the Avatar of Retribution so he… disappeared. It happens when they don’t retire.”

 

“Ok…”

 

Something to ask Chronos, I suppose.

 

“The royal family attacked the Blade Seekers in their redoubt. Their relationship was, ugh…”

 

Vargo hesitated. Stone came to her rescue.

 

“Obis was ruled by an old royal family installed two archons ago, fairly powerful but lacking true martial awakened. They had an army though. Those they attacked were a group outside of society dedicated to martial prowess.”

 

“So there were rumors —”

 

“It was a power struggle,” Stone said, interrupting her.

 

He eyed the rest of the restaurant. I also sense more people turning their attention to us through the thin metal panes granting everyone the illusion of privacy.

 

“For dominance. Everything changed when one of the main churches of Obis turned on everyone. The Blood Conclave. They were a, hmm, healer temple so it was a surprise.”

 

“Especially when they came up with biological weapons and siege abominations,” Vargo spits.

 

From what I can tell from the people around us, no one likes the blood whatever. Ugh, I’m getting a headache.

 

“After seven years, none of the commanders who were active at the start of the conflict still draw breath. Everyone is exhausted. Obis is… a shadow of its former self,” Stone whispers.

 

Guilt and affection flood Vargo’s soul. I’m guessing Stone speaks from experience. I decide to give the old boy some much needed space.

 

“Right, do you guys need anything else after that?”

 

“No. Well. Maybe some pastries for Sethri. I bet he’s working too hard again,” Vargo says. “You really came at the right time,” she adds.

 

“You are welcome. Happy to help.”

 

Except I’m only helping once and you’ll forget everything about it.

 

***

 

I feel the person approaching while I stand outside of the bakery shanty. The noise of the emotions of packed people is just getting to be too much. I think that is what’s happening at least. My ability to read emotions was super fun but now I realize… I can’t stop. I can’t stop feeling what they’re feeling and this is too much for too long. It wasn’t so bad in the Church of Mercy, but here? It’s so much worse. Massaging the bridge of my nose, I regret that I didn’t look for the Enderlithian equivalent to aspirin.

 

“Ok. Ok.”

 

Maybe I can narrow the circle. I can already extend my perception in a sort of tight beam. Maybe I can just contract the sphere instead. Trying that, I pull back my sphere of perception. But it just grows more dense instead.

 

I jump when I feel someone entering it. Left side. Aggression, greed, bad news. I turn to see a muscular woman with face tattoos and a fierce expression. Black hair, black eyes, remarkably human except for, well, I think those are claws on her fingers. Actual claws not sharp nails.

 

“What do you want?” I snap out before she can approach any further.

 

My control fails. The sphere bounces back, flooding me with the errant emotions of the people queuing inside the bakery. Happiness. Boredom. Lust. Envy. Fear. The overload sends a searing spike inside my brain.

 

“You need to pay to get in,” she says in broken So-Sah. “It’s not free.”

 

“Huh?”

 

She points at the bakery behind me. She really has claws.

 

“You need to pay to get in.”

 

“Oh good, I don’t want to get in.”

 

“But you need to pay.”

 

She frowns. Her frustration radiates in acid waves.

 

“But you can’t buy anything without paying.”

 

“I don’t want to buy anything,” I tell her.

 

I wait while she digests this crucial piece of information.

 

“You don’t have a bag? You gotta go inside first.”

 

“I. Do not. Want. Anything,” I say between gritted teeth.

 

Stolen story; please report.

I didn’t bring the Defender. Maybe I should have but Stone said it was an invitation.

 

“Leave him alone. Kyra. Leave him alone,” an older human says from a side street. “You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

 

“Fuck you!” she spits.

 

“I’m calling the wardens if you don’t fuck off right away.”

 

She smolders in sulky silence for a few seconds.

 

“And your girlfriend,” the old man adds.

 

“Fuck! Alright, I’m leaving!”

 

She does. I turn to the old man.

 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, boy. Can’t have us eating each other down there.”

 

Wise words. Stone and Vargo pick me up on the way out and I collapse on my bunk the moment we’re back, an ice pack latched to my forehead. Fuck. Looks like soul sense isn’t just some god-granted privilege I can use however I want it. Looks like I’m going to have to practice it. Ah well. At least, it will stay with me across loops.

 

***

 

Sethri Derelict’s shuttle slows down at the edge of the Vaunted Voyager, possibly one of the nicest ships I’ve seen yet. Sleek and engraved with golden filigree, the white vessel is half yacht and half fancy exhibit. Concern spreads across the shuttle, an emotion I share because yes, this is a derelict seeing the trace damage along the main body, but there is no way we bagged this pile of gold as a small time outfit. It’s at least forty meters long.

 

“Boss?” SilSil asks from the cockpit.

 

“Paperwork’s clean. Bring us alongside. Come on people, let’s get out.”

 

We file out. I’m happy to realize SilSil either forgot to slave my booster to his computer or he just trusts me enough not to bump into my colleagues and since I’ve done it once before, I manage. Mostly.

 

“Mudboy?” Sethri whispers.

 

“On it.”

 

I sweep the ship. At first, I find nothing so I slowly float my way alongside the yacht’s flanks, peering inside. It helps to have only the rest of the crew here crowding me with their souls. Near the middle, I stop.

 

“Someone’s there,” I say.

 

“There shouldn’t… there shouldn’t be anyone,” Sethri says.

 

Vargo switches to rapid fire void speech. Her anger explodes like it was already there and ready to be ignited. I ignore them, focusing forward instead. The person inside is, well, their soul just feels… large. Larger than any I’ve felt. And very calm.

 

“What do we do?” SilSil asks over the argument.

 

“Steev, are you sure it’s a person?”

 

“Positive.”

 

“SilSil, can you make contact?”

 

We wait for a few seconds during which Vargo helps me come to a full stop. It’s actually rather hard to come at a full stop relative to something else but she makes it look so easy.

 

“I got nothing, boss. Nothing’s pinging.”

 

“I can try telepathy,” I offer.

 

“You trying to piss them off? I say we leave,” Vargo argues. “I told you this idea was leaking atmo.”

 

“Enough,” Sethri erupts, his own anger surging to cover his embarrassment. “I paid good money for the salvage right and we’re going to use it. This is an Enderlith- approved operation.”

 

I push my perception towards the soul. It feels like staring over the surface of a frozen lake, opaque and mysterious. Quiescent, for now. With a careful nudge, I push against the surface.

 

Greetings.

 

Nothing but a ripple, but there is a consciousness there. A part of me wants to leave it alone but I’m also curious. This soul is fascinating. It’s not just the size but the discipline and care that went into ordering it.

 

Greetings. Sorry to bother you.