The lirams' head bobbing slowed, the wagon coming to a stop. Ziltai peeked out of the covering in the back. The wagon was made of lighter material than the average one, making their travel easier. Ziltai rubbed his backside and thighs. It still had been two days of riding, and he was ready to get on with the Flight. The gates of Muthabara stood open behind them, and the grassy land beyond. The farther south one got, the more fertile the land became. Poshangui, which Muthabara was a part of, was a major example of this, as their fields gave them the best food in the country and their wine was fantastic. The same could not be said of Al Magza, farther down south.
His guide popped her head back in, having looked forward along the street. She was a hard looking woman with straight brown hair and bulky arms. "Shouldn't be far now, Hoffer Iadon Ziltai. Would you like that we get out and walk the rest of the way?"
Ziltai laughed. "I probably need it, don't I?" She smiled, nodding. He hopped out, waving to his aides (so and so and so and so) to stay in the wagon.
He got out with his aides, moving to the streets towards the threefold stadium. His guard, Kizil, was to his right. They approached the largest stadium. Its entrance had guards holding glittering spears. The guards looked uneasy. Aside from their sweaty faces, they kept looking back and forth as if searching for someone.
A little bell chimed in his ear. He spun, hoping to catch whoever had gotten close enough. Kizil turned as well. The young man brandished a knife from thin air. No one was there.
"Cursed bastard." one of the guards with spears said.
"Who?" said the Augmentor.
"The Godling. He's been heckling the hoffers iadon before you. Hurry and get inside."
They ushered Ziltai inside. Up the stairs, they led up into a wide coliseum. Muscled men with loose robes walked and stretched on the red sand underneath. Some women hung from the lattice work, dark skin glistening. The lattice was of interlocking wooden planks set above the red sand. The women released their grips and hopped down, dancing from plank to plank. It was unpainted, and had been set for this first event of the Flight.
Ziltai headed up to the top of the coliseum rim. Four women with lacrosse spears stood beside a large stone box. On the front of the box was transparent glass, completely covering the occupants with shade. Another bell chimed in his left ear, and he heard a deep chuckle. Again, when he spun, he found no man. Fearfully, they surrounded Ziltai and led him through the side door of the box.
"Really? Who is this man that I should have to fear him?" Ziltai said.
A fit looking young woman stepped forward. Her brown hair was tucked back into a bun, one sliver of hair hanging over her cheek. She wore a black silk robe down to her ankles, cut shoulders exposed. "This container is the only relief we've had for two hours. Ruksom K'Janu is mocking us. If the Takutahn wasn't adamant about testing him, I'd have never allowed the bastard into my city."
An old man looked out of the window. His high mint green collar came up to his white, nappy hair. His hands seemed to be fidgeting, then Ziltai noticed that he was spiraling water with his signs. It would spin in tight coils, then he would release it and start again. He was looking out at the activities that had started. The young Afya Triel of Nerth and the hoffer iadon of Celf- the man had people call him Slix.
"I don't like this. What if he doesn't leave? You know how those Civiti heretics would love to have at us." Slix said.
"That's something to think about later, Slix." Afya bowed and smiled. "You know us. We're honored to have you in our rank."
Slix turned, dismissing his water. He made the two fingered salute to his temples. "She's right. I'm sorry for not acknowledging you, Ziltai Saruq. Your Intellect of the stars gives me hope for the Kairahs to come before I die."
"You honor me, the both of you." Ziltai made the salute in return.
Afya, gestured for him to sit. She handed him a locked wooden box, and the key. "Takutahn Veril asked me to give this to you. He already sent a notice ahead that he won't be here. Aside from the safety risk, he says he has run into something in Medina Gilt that requires his majesty's full attention. But his Penderfyniad is here."
She pointed out towards the railing that separated the sandy courtyard from the stands. About ten people surrounded the railing, scanning for the Godling. One caught Ziltai's eye, however. The rest had hoods and or sunglasses on to obscure them. A woman, shorter than the railing, was watching the entertainment with hood uncovered. Ziltai couldn't place her age.
A man was on the lattice swinging a whip, which had some sort of edge to the end, as it cut objects that had been set on the panels both below and above him. He then used the whip to swing across the boards. The little woman crossed her arms, contemplating the spectacle. She must have been someone important, or above reproach, as no one reprimanded her for standing still.
Ziltai turned back to what he was holding. He unlocked and opened the box. Inside sat a black slab of stone on velvet padding. It didn't glisten, and was porous. A smaller wooden box was tucked in the corner.
"It's about time you had one of those." Slix said.
"Ah, a covenant board. Is this the one my former mentor had?"
"No." Slix said. "When a person dies, their covenant board breaks. Fizzles into dust. Their aug signature is also gone from our boards. So you'll have to sign ours."
"Do you know how these work?" Afya asked.
Ziltai nodded. He picked the slab up in a firm grip. It was simple. It wasn't ornate, but it was beautiful. He had waited so long for this, and now sat equal with the hoffers iadon. He set the covenant board on his lap. He called rocks which hovered above his hand. He shaped them into a sphere, and they coalesced. Pressing the sphere into the slab, he waited. After a moment, the sphere gave out, crumpling onto the floor. He dismissed the rocks. On the board was the only adornment: Ziltai Saruq. His name carved into black.
The other hoffers iadon set their names into two corners of the four cornered slab. Afya picked up the smaller box that was in the corner of the first box, handing it to Ziltai. "This is for the Advocate. She will answer your inquiries to the Takutahn."
He placed the marble that was inside of the box on the top point of the covenant board. The name Yazira Rissing, the Takutahn's cousin and main guard, engraved itself. "I understand. Do either of you have contact with the Takutahn besides through the Advocate?" Ziltai asked.
"At least once a year." Slix said. "Veril Rissing comes to the annual festivals. We didn't get to speak long this year."
"Because of the burglary?" Ziltai asked.
Slix scoffed. "They all think it a simple thievery. That orb was priceless."
"Any clues come up to who could've stolen it?" Afya asked.
"Penderfyniad is saying that it could've been our neighbors. Apparently, the people in Snowsurf have a theory that the Farrago had the blood of Zil." Slix shook his gray head. "They think that they wanted to spill it to release it back to Zil. You know how they are about blood."
"I would think if that were the case," Ziltai said, "that it wouldn't be hard to find the remnants. They would lay at the bottom of some ravine."
"My thoughts exactly." Afya said. "But Slix, have you paid attention to just how much your people are enamored by the Farrago? They would paint it in their landscapes instead of the sun. I heard poetry about it at the festival, right before it was taken. You could say that they were as superstitious of it as the barbarians."
Slix grunted, his mouth drawing to a line. "Yes, I did. There were some things I thought were making my sect stale. Even some people who were becoming a distraction. If Penderfyniad chooses to remove such, who are we to stop them?" They both turned. Slix winked at Ziltai, then Afya.
They knew. He pressed down his trembling, and put on a puzzled look. "You're meaning that they could remove my astrarium?"
Afya smirked. "Anything's possible, Hoffer Iadon Ziltai. But be proud of what you've done. Zil is." Ziltai may have to watch his back around these two. "Getting that out of the way. It's about time to watch the main event. We have been tasked with judging this 'Godling.'"
Ziltai noticed the small woman at the railing was joined by the entertainer. She gestured towards his whip. He blushed. He took out another, and proffered it to her. She twirled it with the enthusiasm of a child, then snapped it. She'd taken a stance of a seasoned fighter. The entertainer jumped at the change. She took her former posture, trying to relinquish the whip. The man shook his hands, intimidated.
"What exactly are we looking for in Ruksom? Is there a checklist to prove one is Enlightened?" Ziltai asked, turning back.
"Not a precise one. There are a few strange things that have been rumored about him. Things that drew the Takutahn's attention. At the end of the day, we are to take a report to the Advocate, and let the Takutahn come to that determination." Afya said.
"How old is he?" Ziltai asked.
"28. We took a Likeness of his ID card when he arrived."
"An Enlightened, simply put, is someone who has a spark of divinity. More than others. They use this to make something profound. With this bastard," Slix said, "these are concerning. Displacing the sounds he's making. Likeness is only image based, not sounds. And they can't be put in a place you aren't. He's found some way to displace both. But the things that concern me the most is what he does for a living. He leads an army specifically to destroy organized religion in Civitas. He slaughters them."
Ziltai whistled. "Would we ever recommend him to the Takutahn?" Ziltai asked. "True, Zil is helped along by all kinds. But what credit are we giving to such people? And more importantly, why would he ever want to come here, to be tested by people they don't like?"
The three shared a silence. They turned from each other, settling back into their seats. Flutes started to sound. Men and women swung onto the lattice work. Large triangles of black were set up below it. Each had a Spoke on its edge, and sand was available below.
The warriors had tan or dark muscles that glistened against the red of the sand below. They waited, tense. One man, nearly a shadow for his black skin. With each step on the sand, bells chimed. Tiny bells, of a number Ziltai couldn't tell, were laced into his dreads. Bells on his wrists, ankles, earlobes, belt, and around the neck. The black dreads had silver to it, coming down to the mid of his back. Before hopping onto the lattice, he took off the white tunic. Underneath were a collection of bulging dark muscles. He was sculpted from onyx. And he was surrounded by ten others.
"And what is the game itself?" Ziltai asked.
Afya said, "They're fighting, Fyn Pinyan. Since this is just a test, it's not to the death. We were thinking one on one, then recommended two on one. He wouldn't have it. We obliged this many. Once they've fallen from the lattice, they're eliminated. He's placed himself at the top. Let him get himself killed."
The Godling smiled at the female fighter that hung in front of him. She shifted under his gaze. Whatever whispers were shared could not be detected by Ziltai's ear. Ziltai sat forward, intending to catch every movement. He wasn't much of a fighter, neither an Augmentor. His skills lay in discerning, in study. From Slix's theory, he would have something to look for. From one of the bastards, it was a trick, all the more swaying from the intimidating body.
Ziltai called for a guard. A woman peaked her head in. "Call to the host. I have a request for the proceedings. Have the Godling remove any chips." She shut the door, running past their window down to the railing. Catching the eye of the host, she relayed the request.
They soon patted the man down, and he easily let go of his chip pouch. He did, however, request that his food not be taken from him. Snacking during a fight? Ziltai conceded the request. It was harmless.
Ruksom popped some food into his mouth, chewing. His face lightened, smiling more intensely. One flute sounded as a ready. The warriors gathered Spokes from around them, mostly fire and lightning. Their Spokes hovered before their stretched out hands, palms open. All of them. All except Ruksom. He stood in the same Fyn-Pinyan stance as they, unprotected.
The second flute sounded. Go. And they went.
