The Dukes of Odwego finds Astra (secret necromancer, former nun, and displaced librarian of Qordashi) drifting ever farther from the only life she knew and deeper into a world she never expected to see. The powerful, winding Hoshikwazu river leads her, her injured best friend Traz, and the ever-enigmatic Xavai to a city that glitters with wealth but reeks of corruption. Within its walls, sour magic whispers, alliances shift like silt, and every kindness hides a price. To save the people she loves, Astra must rely on her wits, her courage, and maybe, maybe, a little necromancy.
Previously: Astra checked in with their errant little dragon...
“Astra. Astra!”
“Mmmf. Go away.” She pushed at the annoying hand of the nun trying wake her. There was no way it was third bell already, she had not heard the tolling of the temple bells, and so she was staying in bed. Who was in her cell, anyway? She slapped at the hand again and told him to get out of her cell.
“Astra, it’s Xavai! Wake up.”
Astra sat up so fast she felt dizzy. Awareness of where she was, and why, crashed down on her. She sat there, staring at the open door of the room, which she remembered closing. Blinking, she looked up at Xavai. He looked down at her with pity.
“I had to relieve myself, I was only gone a moment, but it is near fourth bell, according to the inn keeper, and the sun will be up soon.”
Astra held back a groan. She would have to get up and go out to request an audience with the dukes, and she felt like she could barely walk. The trauma and trial of the last two weeks had caught up to her at last as she rested in a real bed, in a room that felt safe and quiet. She braced herself with one hand and slowly set her feet on the floor, whining a little along the way. It was undignified, but she did not care.
“Sore?” Xavai asked. Astra could not tell in the dim light whether he was being sarcastic or sincere. She glared at him either way.
“I need another sixteen bells of sleep.”
He sighed heavily. “On that, we are in accord. Too much has happened, too fast. We have been constantly at battle stations since we reached Qordashi.” He rubbed his face. “I mean, since I reached it. Or you left it? Ugh*.*”
The rambling was very unlike the Am-Ayat soldier and Astra realized for the first time that he was also genuinely exhausted. “How is Traz?”
“Still unconscious. His color is better. He swallows the drops of water.”
“Then rest here while I go out. Give me some coins. I need to buy a square of vellum and while I’m out, I’ll buy food too. Traz will be fine until I get back.”
He glanced at the back room, which betrayed his own worries, but his exhaustion won out and he nodded, collapsing on the bed as soon as Astra was clear of it. He pulled off the little purse from around his neck and simply threw it at her. She barely caught it before looping it over her neck and under her tunic.
“See if there are baths in this wretched hovel. I need to steam my skin until the sins of my grandfathers are cleansed from my pores.” Xavai mumbled into the pillow. Astra had never heard that saying before, but she understood the feeling behind it since her own skin layered with dirt and sweat.
She put on her shoes, grimacing at the grimy feel of her feet in her stockings, then padded out into the morning. There was a light tinge of purple to the sky, suggesting dawn was on its way soon, so she hurried toward the center of the town, hoping to find a stationary dealer.
There were people already milling about in the town’s central square, including a few stalls set up to sell wares. She quickly located a stationary merchant and bought three very low quality squares of vellum before taking a moment to simply look around. The square hummed with magic, but it was the shocky kind of electrical current that felt wrong to Astra, like there were many death beds around her if she just looked.
Instead, she kept her necromancy locked down as best she could and focused on looking carefully at the square and the people in it. There were large two-story wooden buildings on two sides, obviously dedicated to the local government. In the middle of the square was a simple square pillar, each side dedicated to one of the Four Winds, with smaller pillars set in front. Once again, the pillars were topped with vases overflowing with a dainty, flowering vine instead of statues. It continued to strike Astra as odd.
To one side, over the tops of the buildings on the square, rose a mountain of a structure that was very likely the dukes’ castle. It was painted bright yellow and white and purple, with red curtains fluttering in open windows, and would not have looked too out of place in Qordashi. It was clearly not a temple, though.
Her heart clinched at the realization that somewhere in there was the dragon horn dust the doctor desperately needed to cure Traz. She stared at it, her heart racing. The roof peaks were topped by massive, gilded beams ending in sculptures of fantastic beasts, the first sculptures of living beings she had seen in the town. Magic buzzed at the edge of Astra’s senses as she stared at the sculptures, which even from that distance seemed to ripple with a familiar energy, as if soul dust was swirling around them, if Astra would just look...
She tore her gaze away and pushed on through the crowd. Stopping at a trader’s stall, she asked directions to the doctor’s house and the closest public baths. She filed away the directions the harried trader gave her while she waited for the magistrate to walk through the square, hoping that his appearance was full of pomp and circumstance for fear that she might miss him. She eyed an elderly man with an ornate cane waddling by, wondering if asking if whether he was the magistrate or not would be rude.
An ox horn’s inelegant, blurting blast filled the square and Astra spun around to see a small entourage entering from the west side, headed east. Which made sense, if the town belonged to Jaga; all formal processions had to travel eastward. In the middle of it was a plain, nondescript middle aged man, his stark black hair held back in one long braid, and wearing a resplendent emerald green gown embroidered with various shades of greenery such as vines and trees and flowers. It seemed a little excessive even for a devoted follower of Jaga, but Astra shoved that thought out of her mind.
She had written on the vellum using a waxy stick of ink, making a simple request to meet the dukes, and signed it as “Ashatur, Pilgrim of the Four Winds.” Walking forward with her head held high, she approached the entourage. They did not stop their slow pace across the square, but two members parted so that she could thrust the paper at the magistrate.
He took it calmly and kept walking.
She stood there, not sure if that was how it was supposed to go. A woman passed by her, carrying a large basket of fruit on her head, and took pity. “They will announce the appointments at the last ring of fifth bell,” she said.
“Thank you.” Astra bowed slightly and slipped away. The magic of the square was making her more and more uncomfortable, and she needed to see the doctor. Her house was easy to find, a nicely appointed home in gray and accented with various shades of pink and red, making Astra wonder if the doctor herself dedicated her practice to Mamum of the West.
Like most of the buildings around it, the front was mostly a flat wall facing the street with a few small windows and one large door big enough for a small cart to pass through. Astra used the wooden knocker to announce herself and was seen into the house by, presumably, another of the doctor’s children. The girl was willowy and tall and had skin as dark as night, her hair knots painted red with ochre. It reminded Astra of some of the nuns of Mamum back in Qordashi and she felt a pang of homesickness. The girl, who did not introduce herself, walked with stately grace, leading Astra through the small and efficient courtyard to a sparsely furnished room with a prettily tiled floor. Astra sat in one of the plain wicker chairs and waited.
The doctor came in a few minutes later. “Hosar said you were waiting for me,” she said.
“Yes. And I’m sorry, I did not even think to ask your name.” Astra stood up.
“Doctor Riki’o of Jo.”
Astra bowed a little. “Ashatur.”
They sat down again and the doctor looked at her expectantly. Astra cleared her throat. “I have submitted a vellum square to the magistrate, asking for an audience. I am told I will know if the request has been accepted after the last ring of fifth bell.”
Riki’o nodded.
“I would like to have you there. As an expert witness to our plea. We can pay,” she added quickly.
The woman looked at her with narrowed eyes. “I am well respected here, but I cannot guarantee that my presence will encourage the dukes’ generosity.”
“Please.” Astra must have looked genuine, or perhaps desperate, as the doctor nodded again.
“I will help you. But do not expect that you will get an audience today. The dukes like to test the perseverance of petitioners.”
Astra groaned in frustration. “My brother’s life cannot hang in the balance too long.”
Riki’o nodded. “I know, which is why I have agreed to help. Even once you receive an audience, it would be...typical...of them to string you along.” She sighed. “How is your brother?”
“Still unconscious, but swallowing the water. We have followed your instructions.”
“Hosar is my eldest, and while not my apprentice, trained well enough in healing arts. I will send her along today to check on him.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Astra left the doctor’s house lighter of heart and was only mildly disappointed that the magistrate did not accept their request for an audience that day. She would try again tomorrow, perhaps adding a special prayer to Jaga on the request.
She picked up a roasted bird and some bread before going back to the inn. By the light of day, the street was filled with people going to and fro, and the inn bustled with the activities of the people staying there, several families it seemed. It was a stark contrast to how empty everything was in the middle of the night, she thought, and wondered again about the rule of the dukes.
She put the food down quietly, the snores of Xavai filling the room. They would eat when he woke up, and she was filled with too much nervous energy to use the second bed in the back room, so she settled in next to Traz and waited for the time to pass, worry gnawing at her bones.
Next: Filled with Dread
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