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as a threat.

“Oh yes,” Tomo confirmed with a smirk. “Never underestimate our craftiness, my dear guests. For what we lack in size, we make up in cleverness. Now, about that debt you owe me. I presume you noticed the bags of herbs my nephews were bringing into my home as we were leaving, yes?”

All three nodded. Ulam thought he saw a gleam in Tomo’s eye, the same kind of excited look Nilawen gets when she is about to swindle coins from gamblers. It was the look of a hunter watching an animal walk into a trap, completely oblivious to the peril awaiting it. I bet he had this planned from the moment he saw us. Maybe I am wrong, but he just said Kalikkis were crafty.

“From time to time I dabble in alchemy,” Tomo continued, “it is a talent I acquired when my sight began to fade and my joints began to ache. At first, I would collect the herbs on my own, but as I grew older and slower, I could no longer travel the Ashlands by myself. Now I send Bati and Buri to gather the plants I need, but I only have them bring back certain herbs; the ones which I feel are the safest to retrieve.”

Tomo rubbed his knees, wincing at the pain. “There is one herb I need, though, which is the most important ingredient in my medicine: black dragonroot. It is tall, slender, and as black as Amantius’ hair, with bright red and orange leaves that look like fire. I have only one left in my home, and it will only make enough potions to last a week.”

“So you want us to get more for you?” Amantius asked, though he did not sound enthused by the idea. “Is it really so dangerous that Bati and Buri couldn’t get it for you?”

“Bati and Buri have done a commendable job taking care of their poor, old, fragile, ailing uncle,” Tomo answered. “While others their age are spending all day in a milkhouse finding their future partners, those two have put my health first. I could not ask them to go; they’ve already sacrificed enough for me. As for the amount of danger, you will be fine. The winds are stronger in the mountains, so you must be a little more cautious. I have faith in you; after all, you traveled the length of the Alakuum by yourselves and survived. Besides, you will have a guide with you.”

“A guide?” Ulam asked.

“Yes. Another friend who owes me a favor,” Tomo smiled. “Come, let’s go to the milkhouse where she works and let her know she will be going as well.”

Whoever she is, I hope she is willing to go. Otherwise, we might wander the desert until we die.

They left the shadow of the Great Obelisk, leaving behind the perfectly manicured gardens of the Forum, as well as the armed guards that had accompanied them. Though they no longer had the escort, Ulam still felt like their every move was being watched. Mothers kept their children close, conversations grew quiet as they passed. Some bystanders would bow to Tomo and say a few words in their language before greeting Ulam, Amantius, and Nilawen, while others kept their distance. Some faces were friendly, some curious, some fearful, and some burned with hatred. It was a look Ulam had seen many times in his life, one he knew better than any other. Although this time, their hateful ignorance was not reserved for him, but for Amantius. I should keep an eye on him. He has never experienced this kind of situation before and his mouth could get him killed.

Yawan was very much like every city Ulam had ever seen with its bustling activity and constant hum of conversation, but there were some notable differences. It was far more organized than anywhere he had ever been, even the best Human city could not compare. Instead of buildings sprawled in every direction, Yawan was built in a system of square blocks with intersecting streets. The city was also much cleaner than anywhere in the Emberi Empire, and despite the occasional spiteful glance, it also seemed much safer.

Above everything, though, Ulam was most captivated with Yawan’s denizens. He found it fascinating that there was a race of people with torsos, arms, and legs shaped just like his, but with tails and faces more similar to common house mice. As a whole, they were roughly the same height as women in the Emberi Empire, with no discernable deviation among the sexes. The male Kalikkis typically had more muscular builds while their female counterparts were fairly slender, even those with many children were no larger than the others. Their hairstyles were varied, coming in all lengths, the color often not matching that of their fur. Some had long, flowing locks of golden hair with fur the color of cinnamon, while others had coats of dark gray with slicked-back auburn hair. Their clothing was quite eye-catching as well. Although some of the younger denizens had their clothes specifically tailored to show off their physiques, all genders of Kalikki society wore very loose, and very colorful garments. Each piece of fabric was so bright and festive that Ulam did not just see everyday people carrying out mundane chores, but a cultural tapestry celebrating life.

After passing through a market, they turned down a shaded alleyway where both sides of the narrow street were aligned with multi-storied mudbrick buildings. Despite being in a desert Ulam was surprised by how cool the alleyway was, a mixture of the nearby ocean and abundant shade from the adjacent buildings providing ample relief from the afternoon heat. A steady breeze blew through the alleyway, the summery winds forming goosebumps on Ulam’s arms and legs. Salt was in the air, but it did not ride the winds alone. An aroma unlike any other filled the alleyway as well; it was akin to smoke but sweeter.

“What is that?” Ulam asked, his deep voice echoing off the

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