Ecdysis

 

 

 

 

Yeva

She crossed her legs and leaned onto the warm chimney behind her, absentmindedly watching the hustle across the Manor. The estate had been busy for a while now and had gotten even busier with the Esca’s arrival, but today the Matriarchs of Kiymetl and Enoch were here. And they hadn’t come alone or merely accompanied by their servants. They came with their daughters and nieces, sisters and cousins. Dominas. And every single one of them had their personal entourage.

In other words, people that Yeva had no interest in interacting with.

She knew that each and every one of them meant yet another ego to tiptoe around. Or worse — an incident waiting to happen. Unless she was willing to spend her time and prove her worth again and again, which she was not. Few of them would be permitted to learn of her in the first place and those who were were aware of her by now most likely.

Shahin tried to make her participate in her personal, backhanded way, but Yeva reasoned back that this was a task fit for an envoy and sent the lamura to frolic in her natural habitat. She had other, more important things to do.

Unbidden, her fingers plucked the strings of her guitar.

With the help of Chirp, Yeva could commune with Erf almost every other day. Not in words or letters but in thoughts. In this manner, he regaled her with tales of his adventures and setbacks while she kept him informed about events in the capital. While she missed the touch of her fairy, the one who led her out of the dark forest that was her previous life, his thoughts and emotions were just as warm and personal. So when Erf was concerned about something, she knew. And Yeva was willing to act.

It was rather empowering in a way. Through their connection, Yeva knew that his gratitude and requests were genuine. The daimon, whom Dominas of Samat were whispering about in their Manors, was relying on her to do things as he could — sometimes even better — rather than filling her days with menial tasks, unfit for his status. Or worse — inventing them merely to keep her busy. She was a part of their sadaq and that was all she cared about. She was not Aikerim Adal to worry about the status of the Manor and its rank among other families. Nor was she Shahin Esca to mingle with movers and shakers of Emanai so that she could leverage a better position for herself. Her estate would grow in time and rather than picking the strongest, they could take the loyal and honourable and empower them until they could rival others.

Erf promised to keep the knowledge secret so Yeva didn’t know the details and couldn’t assist him directly. But she had other means at her disposal.

As her fingers danced on the strings, Yeva took his gift of knowledge and united it with the parting gift of her late mother. His guitar skill, the science of music, and the knowledge of songs beyond Tana were combined with the kithara lessons of her childhood and the art of song creation. Yeva wasn’t interested in singing a song of the past, a song made by others. She wanted to sing her own song. A song of one, a song for one.

Yeva sang the song to a silent Chirp, sitting on a roof nearby, so that it would carry its memory of her singing it just as it would carry her memory of playing it. The melody wasn’t complex — she was not trying to impress him with her skill but raise his spirits and warm his heart. Neither were the lyrics full of intricate words — they weren’t important. She simply sang of a bird, away in the sky and his mate, safe in their nest. She sang of her pride, patience, and love.

Fly. Soar through the sky.
Brave away the vagaries of life.
And when you’re tired and looking for a branch to rest —
Come back to me. To our sweet home. Our nest.

I will be waiting there.

 

 

Zamindar Enoch Azrin

 

“Your wife keeps surprising me in the most unusual ways,” Zamindar lifted her cup in a silent toast to her young ‘uncle’. Tarhunna Wafiq was younger than the Matriarch, too young for her to call him an elder. “I’ve seen others dress their kitharists in golden silks or animal hides while carving their instruments out of Creature shells. The Kishava even crafted an entire arusak around one, as I recall. But to perch one on the roof nearby?”

Tarhunna smiled. “The nightingale sings her sweetest when she sings from afar. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He gestured at the group of young wermages, gawking at the kitharist. “Let us be content that this song will make them eager to join Emanai arms, rather than seek the bird they cannot catch.”

She nodded, letting the golden bells on her horns tinkle in agreement. The Kiymetl that returned to Samat with their Matriarch previously came to witness Anaise Hilal’s Entrance Feast, so there were plenty of young males around. In contrast, Zamindar chose to bring her female relatives to this party, ones who were a bit older and seeking to establish themselves and eventually form their separate Manors. Rather than trying to succeed where the Kamshad Matriarch failed, she wished to repeat Isra’s success.

If they failed — Aikerim Adal had two unclaimed sons. She managed to steal Tarhunna from Samat, so she wouldn’t object as much if one of Enoch would steal hers in turn.

Nanaya Ayda, the Kiymetl Matriarch, finished her private conversation with Aikerim’s other husband and turned towards them. “I am even more surprised by your presence, Zamindar Azrin. I didn’t know that my daughter had that much influence over Enoch to have its Matriarch come in person.”

Zamindar chuckled. “Anaise Hilal might be the daughter of Kiymetl but the green of her eyes is similar to her father’s. Is it wrong for me to be curious about my cousin?”

Aikerim Adal was extremely bold to gamble with two Pillar Matriarchs just as she was facing off against a coalition of at least three others. But it was the boldness that she did respect because it was the boldness she could exploit. It cost little for Zamindar to put her House behind Tarhunna Wafiq and his daughter and simply wait for the situation to resolve itself. Whether Aikerim Adal would win or lose, Zamindar would see profit either way.

“But it would be rude of me to intrude in your House affairs,” she continued with a smile. “As long as those who bear the name of Enoch remain safe, I will keep my distance.”

The fellow matriarch mirrored her smile — they both knew how the game was played. As long as the little fox didn’t get too insolent in her demands and was appropriately grateful, their support would continue. But neither of them would clash with each other at Aikerim Adal’s behest. Zamindar might not get the daimon in the end but she would keep her Isra. She would keep the twins. And she would claim the knowledge they acquired.

And if her dice landed right, her kin would remain beside the daimon even then. From what she had managed to learn, he was possessive and wilful enough to demand it.

As long as the lamuras of Esca didn’t intrude too much. But two Pillars were more than enough to keep them in check.

“The Domina of the Manor, Aikerim Kiymetl Adal!” a slave proclaimed to the feasting wermages and swung the doors open.

Zamindar took pleasure in watching Kiymetl gawk at the entering Domina. Most of them hadn’t seen the so-called ‘Tunic of Darkness’ and Aikerim Adal was showing off even more than at the Summit.

This time, she had three tails swaying behind her back. One of red and two of black.

This time, she had two sons by her side. Clad in layers of magical darkness.

Zamindar glanced past the schooled expression of Nanaya Ayda and inspected a smug Ramad Qasam lounging beside her. Both he and Tarhunna had exquisite tunics on them with silk of pure Arksite and clad in gold filigree and precious jewels, but neither had the Tunic of Darkness underneath their khalats.

So it was a Kiymetl spell. Ramad simply put aside his Tunic to appear equal to Tarhunna. Aikerim was shrewd enough not to leave obvious gaps in her armour. Zamindar glanced at the bulky parcel in Aikerim’s arms, wrapped in Arksite silks, and her fingers gripped the wine cup. She had no doubt that the Kiymetl Matriarch was about to receive her own Tunic of Darkness.

That crafty little fox! This wasn’t a feast for her to curry favours — by using the looming threat of the Pillar coalition, Aikerim gathered every interested party in her Manor and boasted her strength instead to rally others under her banners!

Zamindar turned her attention back to the lone kitharist still playing on the roof, unbothered by the commotion stirred by her Domina and her sons. Her thoughts buzzed in her head like a swarm of angry bees. She paid little attention to Aikerim Adal conversing with the other Dominas and presenting the gift to her mother — now that she knew the purpose of this feast it became quite predictable. What made this situation so unusual was that Aikerim Adal believed that she could stand against all three Houses of War.

As if her daimon wasn’t stuck in the north.

As if her daimon was still here, by her side. Assisting her as much if not more than previously.

Kirana and Huare were confident that Erf was indeed the daimon. Then who, or what, was this murk girl that so seamlessly replaced him here? A ‘falconer’ for that flying bug to relay the missives between Samat and Kiannika? But the twins were certain that the Tunic of Darkness for Anaise came from Samat, just as the parts for their skyship. Did Aikerim Adal have two daimonas, and their lack of Spark was caused by the original body being split in two?

Was there a daimon at all and not some artefact that could bestow daimonic knowledge? But Aikerim would never let Anaise claim Erf if he was replaceable. To even consider that a mere murk could trick or lie to the Kiymetl Domina was laughable.

No, Erf was indeed a daimon, but his power was not centred on him…

“A murk daimon, indeed,” Zamindar murmured and quickly hid her growing smile when Aikerim’s ears twitched in response.

She was so intent on him being a daimon that she nearly forgot that he was still a murk! It was no wonder that his ‘power’ was everywhere as he was not a wermage to wield it with his will alone. Stuck in a crippled body, Erf had to rely on others to make himself strong. Yes, Kirana and Huare spoke of his surprising strength, but he was the Alchemist who could make Arksite. Surely he could brew a potion of strength by now.

He was dependent on Aikerim Adal and the young Domina knew it or she wouldn’t be this confident in a rapidly growing daimon. As the foundation of his power, her will alone was enough to topple him back at any moment.

Anaise Hilal and Shahin Esca, the delegation of lamuras and the slaves they have brought forth. Through different means, all of them were either drawn or forced to be by the daimon. And Isra Haleh was the most telling among them to the Enoch Matriarch. Her daughter was skilled, but she was not an exceptional master smith by any means — she was too young. Yet, Aikerim Adal took her in and showered her with gifts, tools, and secret, daimonic knowledge.

Because the daimon needed people. He needed others to do what he could not.

This revelation did not mean that Zamindar had gained an upper hand over Aikerim by any means, but two could play this game. Threatening to pull Isra was out of the question — this might slow down Aikerim’s growth in the short term but Kiymetl or Esca would quickly claim that spot for themselves and leave Enoch with nothing. No, if she wanted to stay in this daimonic game, the Enoch Matriarch had to do the exact opposite. The daimon needed people and she, as the Matriarch, had plenty of people to spare.

Not to Aikerim Adal, not to his sadaq. To him. Talented people, skilled people, useful people. Wermages and wer alike that he couldn’t simply claim from the streets or demand from his Domina or her House. It would take time and patience but Zamindar wasn’t in a hurry anymore. He would grow, and so would Aikerim Adal. And with them — every Enoch artisan that founds themselves within his estate. All she had to do was ensure that other Houses would not interfere.

“Zamindar Azrin, the noble Enoch Matriarch, please accept my gift as well,” Once her mother was appropriately placated, Aikerim shifted attention to Zamindar, “A working skyship! While others have to walk through unwashed streets, you will soar well above the masses.”

The Enoch Matriarch nodded with an appropriate show of gratitude when one of Aikerim’s three tails pointed at the floating sphere of silk with the wheel of Enoch and their Pillar drawn on it. A wagon was attached to the bottom of the sphere, just large enough to fit a lounging Matriarch and her close entourage. A grand gift, even if Kirana and Huare had theirs already. Especially in the eyes of other wermages present at the party, just like the Tunic of Darkness. Aikerim made sure that neither of the Matriarchs would be seen left out or slighted.

“My! You have raised your daughter well, Nanaya Ayda. Bold, ambitious, yet respectful. Wouldn’t you agree?” She glanced at her fellow Matriarch.

“Quite. She keeps surprising me with her growth.” Nanaya shook her head and palmed her chin. The Kiymetl Matriarch had been quite incensed when she had arrived, yet Aikerim’s stance and gifts were enough to take the wind out of her sails.

A perfect time to strike.

“Come! Lay with us.” With a gesture of her hand, Zamindar pulled a nearby couch, fit for an Enoch wermage. Another gesture and the marble recliner shifted in size and shape to look like the couches of Matriarchs rather than a seat of a Domina.

Aikerim blinked.

“Zamindar,” Nanaya hissed quietly. “What are you implying here?”

“Isn’t this what your daughter wants?” She blinked in fake surprise. “To become a Matriarch herself? Judging by her growth and her ambition, I can see her becoming one before you are ready to pass down your reins. Who else could stand in front of the three Houses of War if not the two Houses of Trade?”

Other wermages grew quiet while musicians desperately tried to adjust the volume of their music to fit the now-silent room.

“Let us not be hasty about such matters,” Nanaya glared at the couch.

The Kiymetl Matriarch was in a fine predicament. Changing the couch back into its previous shape right after the gift that made the rest of the Kiymetl drool would make her look both capricious and at odds with Enoch. Allowing Aikerim to sit would imply the acceptance of her as their equal.

“I do not think that I am fit for such an honour.” Aikerim made a polite bow. “Tarhunna, dear.”

Her husband conquered the sudden coughing fit he had and changed the couch once again. It was still grand but there was a clear distinction between the two seats of honour and the seat of the Domina of this Manor.

“Not yet, perhaps,” Zamindar easily accepted the rebuke, she had no intention to press the issue further at this time, just to plant the seeds of discord. “Would you ease a concern of mine, however?”

Aikerim smiled. “Please speak your mind.”

Zamindar glanced around. “I have yet to see my youngest here, and her sisters are worried as well. Is she ill?”

One of the three tails twitched but Domina kept her smile. “Isra Haleh is renowned for her skill and dedication to her craft. When she had asked to keep working on her projects, I could not begrudge her request.”

“Would you begrudge a request from a mother to see her daughter, then?”

Despite her previous revelations, Zamindar had goals to achieve. She did not come here like an errand girl to promote Aikerim’s plans nor was she planning to be one in the future — the Kiymetl Domina had shown herself to be prudent enough to grow suspicious if Zamindar was too amenable to her plots without proper compensation. At the same time, the absence of Isra was an expected and convenient excuse to learn more, to step past the guest pavilions and venture further into the daimonic compound.

She watched the contemplating Domina with patience, certain that Isra would fight tooth and nail to stay at the forge rather than attend the feast. Zamindar gave Aikerim plenty of respect among her kin not only by coming to her Manor in person but by offering a seat of an equal.

“I am sure that Isra Haleh would be happy to welcome you into her forge.” Aikerim smiled.

She glanced at her mother and then at Zamindar’s daughters further away and nodded. “Perhaps a few others might be interested to see the place as well.”

Tiny bells tinkled on Zamindar’s horns. Aikerim was quite prepared, indeed.

 

 

Esmat Enoch Fidda

She tried hard not to goggle at the so-called ‘Forge’.

The building was outright enormous for a single master smith, but size was not the issue here. Anyone with gold cuts to waste, a lack of common sense, and a burning desire to prove their worth could make a smithy as large if not larger than this barn. Well, not just a barn — Esmat could see the spellwork of Samat wermages. Wasteful use of…

Esmat sighed and schooled her thoughts. Her mother didn’t do all this just so she could waste her time scoffing at the superfluous scabbards while ignoring the steel hidden within. In the middle of the room, Isra Haleh was working.

And steel was screaming in her hands. Screaming!

Esmat felt the chill crawling through her tail. This was not the usual screech of steel on steel. Nor was it the clank of an impact or the groan of a bend.

A machine that Esmat could recognise as something similar to a carpenter’s lathe was brightly lit by a white-hot stream of screaming metal it was spitting out. There were multiple glowing runes of reinforcement and chill to protect the mechanism from the heat while other runes were spinning and moving so fast that all Esmat could see was a blur of blue.

There were tales of the Sky Castle smithies. The halls without windows for there was no smoke nor fire and the constant glow of artefacts kept them as bright as an open field in the middle of a sunny day. This place was nowhere close, but… Esmat glanced at the stony expression on Amanzhan Irada’s face, this room was a lot closer to them than her smithy, paid by the Speaker of Kiymetl.

Her fingers brushed her striking hammer on her sash. It was hard to see exactly what Isra was doing and impossible to see how, but there was a glow of active runes on the metal piece she was working on! Was she capable of working on the artefacts themselves now? Esmat ignored that thought.

She glanced at Shahin Esca nearby and saw no hint of concern on her face. The fire spell that Isra was using to strip away the metal did not belong to Esca, but it was not a spell she had ever seen before. The lamura actually looked amused as others tried to draw the attention of the engrossed smith. The place was too loud for screams to reach Isra, too cluttered with rapidly spinning wheels and belts that kept the machine running, and plastered with numerous written warnings not to step, to touch, or to lean.

There were other machines in the room, but they were inert and too far away from the working wermage to illuminate their runes. A web of spinning rods littered the ceiling — the source of the immense motion that came from somewhere else. An aqueduct, perhaps. Everything was made of metal as wooden gears and axles would not handle such loads and speeds. Not without active runes. She would need to ask around if this Manor was taking more water than it was allotted by Samat — the speed of those axles wasn’t fantastical by any means, but it still required multiple waterwheels to achieve.

Steel stocks cluttered the walls, brazen with their variety and plenitude. The chalk marks on them were both telling and damning. Isra’s squiggles revealed the general lack of wrought iron, something that Esmat anticipated already as working with blooms took time, and a surprising variety of different steels. Their amount was so vast that, at a certain point, Isra stopped giving them separate names and started giving them numbers.

Judging by how uniform the steel blanks that Isra gifted to Enoch were, all those different varieties had their use and purpose. Were numbers given to more secretive types of steel? The kinds akin to Fulad of the north or Anaise’s sword that could cut anything as if it was air? Esmat did not know.

Isra couldn’t even see the visitors herself — her face was hidden by a black veil she hung between her horns, likely to protect herself from the heat of her work.

While others were gawking, Esmat selected a few small pieces here and there and quietly floated them under her kaftan. Samples of steel with markings on them, unusual clutter. Siblings were supposed to share and Isra Haleh was hogging all the daimon’s toys to herself. Esmat did not touch most of the tools — many of them were known to her and the purpose of others was obvious from a single glance. The uncertain few were too rare for Isra not to notice their absence right away but there were some…

“Who!?” Isra jerked upward and lifted her veil which was made out of dark glass. “Oh, hello.”

Esmat quietly put the tool back and released her magic.

“Your sight is in my heart, Isra Haleh.” Nanaya Ayda nodded with an imperious swish of her tail. “I see that my daughter is treating you well.”

“Um. Your name is on my lips, honourable Kiymetl Matriarch. Yes, my Domina is very generous.” Isra made a bow and another one to Zamindar. “Greetings, mother. Sisters.”

Her hands moved quickly, turning knobs and levers, and the machine grew quiet. To the surprise of Esmat, it did not stop moving. All that spinning and turning was nearly silent in comparison to what she expected it to sound like. Yet another mystery that she couldn’t grasp. Isra shifted a lever on the ceiling, took off the spinning belt, and finally slowed the machine to a halt; the ceiling axles kept spinning, however.

Esmat licked the suddenly dry lips — there were indeed runes on the piece that Isra was just working on. Similar runes of chill and reinforcement. And they were active just moments prior. This was no longer smithing or anything close to it. This was something only artificers could do.

“You are working on runed items?” Their mother noticed that as well. “Aikerim Adal is wise to cherish your skills.”

Isra Haleh glanced at Aikerim and, surprisingly, Shahin Esca. “I have no complaints and only praises.”

“Are you not lonely here?” Esmat asked.

Isra tilted her head and looked at her askance. “I came here to craft, not to gossip.”

“Still, I see so many machines standing without use. This place was not designed for a single… smith.”

Isra bristled, “Look at the maker’s mark on each and every one of them. They are mine! I don’t remember you sharing your personal anvil, Esmat Fidda.”

Esmat glanced at the ‘Hel’-‘Lah’-‘Hel’ letters carved on the side of this lathe. Isra flipped the last Hel upside down to make the mark look like two hammers were striking the sun. How arrogant. No, not carved — embossed. The entire frame was cast into this shape. “I have apprentices.”

“None of whom are permitted to touch your anvil either.”

“Girls, don’t squabble,” Zamindar interrupted them. “All can see that your skill is unquestionable, Isra, but what Esmat was trying to say is that a master grows further when she teaches her apprentices.”

Isra nodded. “The estate has many workers and I am considering whom to take.”

“This estate? Surely you are not thinking of passing down your art to mere wer? I am not even talking about murks — some of them could be rather smart for a murk but they die too quickly to learn everything! Besides — you are not going to stand behind them and power the runes of your machines like some servant!” Zamindar shook her horns in dismay. “A smith of your status has to have wermage apprentices.”

“That she will, there is no doubt about it.” Aikerim Adal stepped in with a smile. “However, she did swear allegiance to my Manor and silence of my secrets so any students of hers would have to do the same. At least until she chooses another Manor or makes her own. I have to protect what is mine.”

Esmat didn’t need to look at the faces of both Matriarchs as she was familiar with the oaths that Isra gave. It was likely that she gave one to the daimon as well. Giving similar oaths would mean proclaiming Aikerim Adal as their Domina. No other Domina would agree to something like this and neither would their first daughters. While second and third daughters could easily take the path of Isra Haleh and never return. They would either stay by Aikerim’s side and further elevate her Manor or come back as new Dominas and use their daimonic knowledge to strike at the seat of the Matriarch. Looking at this room, if Isra had just a grain of ambition, so could she.

Isra took off the veil from her horns, gave it a forlorn gaze, but put it aside.

“I don’t want just anyone simply because they have Spark. Nor am I here to impress fellow smiths with the number of my apprentices or worry about Manoral relations,” she glanced at Aikerim Adal like a petulant child. “Erf and I had an agreement.”

“An agreement that I intend to honour,” the Kiymetl Domina responded. “My Manor will seek apprentices to assist you, not other smiths to replace you. There will be other smiths beside you in time, but, as long as your oaths remain unbroken, you will always have your status as the first Master Smith.”

“Such conversations will wait for a later time,” The Kiymetl Matriarch spoke up. “By the look of this smithy and your previous gifts, it is clear to us that you are preparing for the possible pressure by the Houses of War.

“Since you are my daughter, you need not fear the loss of trading across Emanai,” she gestured at the lamura, “and possibly Yusuf, Shirvan, and other cities of the Scale Coast. There is a possibility that Kishava will limit slave trades not only to your Manor but to the rest of Kiymetl in retaliation.”

Aikerim tried to say something but Nanaya shook her head. “It would be their loss. Kiymetl stands behind its daughters. Kamshad is unlikely to withdraw the convoy galleys that protect our ships, but they might ask for greater fees.”

“If they do, I have compasses and looking glasses to bargain.”

“And Esca might provide our escorts for your ships,” Shahin Esca added.

Nanaya Ayda nodded to the lamura and turned back to the Domina. “There are rumours that Kiymetl might be excluded from the land dole.”

Aikerim tsked and Esmat could understand why. The fertile land of Emanai had been divided among Manors a long time ago and few were willing to sell their parcels to someone other than a member of their House or their patron. The Houses of War didn’t own the recently conquered lands, but they were responsible for choosing who would get the first pick to purchase it. The Kiymetl Manors were rich enough that they weren’t desperate to sell theirs and eager to acquire more.

“They haven’t even claimed the land yet to build the next Border Wall. We are discussing an event that will happen twenty, perhaps even fifty years from now. Those rumours would be irrelevant by then.”

“They are relevant now. So let us meet again in your quarters where we can earnestly discuss what kind of help and in what amounts your Manor will require. I am certain that once that is known, any discussions about potential apprentices would be much simpler…”

Esmat glanced at her silent mother. Why didn’t Zamindar interfere? The Kiymetl Matriarch was quickly positioning herself as Aikerim’s sole patron and the one to claim all future rewards. Even Shahin Esca spoke up. The longer she stayed quiet — the more she would need to offer to keep up with others.

The bells finally tinkled. “How many artisans do you seek?”

“Are you aware of the oaths that they will have to take?”

Zamindar waved off the Kiymetl Matriarch. “I am aware of Isra Haleh. I am also aware that Enoch has many smiths and artisans across Emanai. Many of them have third or fourth daughters or they are the youngest daughters themselves and eager to prove themselves. I am aware that Aikerim Adal is herself aware of her Manor’s limitations or she wouldn’t dare to invite both of us without reason.

“And finally, I am aware of your daughter’s real strength.”

Nanaya scoffed. “Yes, the daimon.”

The bells tinkled again. “No. Her speed. Whether it is due to her daimon or through her personal acumen is irrelevant, what matters is that she has it. And it kept her ahead of the pack so far. Aikerim Adal showed her independence today, and now I wish to see how that independence deals with the likes of Roshanak Gulnaz. Especially once her daughter returns and the question of marriage will be raised once again.”

The Kiymetl Matriarch shook her head. “You might find enjoyment in gambling, but I don’t. Not when the potential future of my House depends on my decisions.”

Zamindar nodded. “Prudent and wise, as the Matriarch of her House should be. But I am not you.”

Pleased with her outrageous statement, she turned back to a stunned Domina.

“Will you tell me now how many and what kind of artisans your Manor needs? I am certain that you will show proper appreciation for my assistance at a later time, just as you have done with Isra.”

A vicious grin slowly split the face of Aikerim Adal.

“Give me two days to consider.”