Rasia tossed her shroud about her face, messy and unhinged and ready to unravel at any moment. Kai wrapped Rae in their half-shroud, slow and careful, and tucked in all the loose ends until only the bright copper of their eyes showed. Since Rae was a budchild, not yet reached puberty, they could get away with a half-shroud and a white loincloth in public. Kai finished wrapping his own shroud and then stared at the open doorway with a trembling breath.
He never ran errands by himself. Not anymore. Not since the incident. Sometimes, when he didn’t have a choice, he would bring Rae because it meant the sentry would accompany them. But the sentry wasn’t always attentive and often saw this job as easy rations. Rae sensed his jitters, and as instructed whenever they go outside, held tightly onto Kai’s hand.
He and Rae emerged from the doorway and found the sentry snoozing atop the swinging bench of the veranda. Still holding Kai’s hand, Rae leaned forward and poked the sentry’s arm. The sentry snorted awake and blinked blearily at them.
“We need to go to the market today,” Kai said.
“Not right now,” the sentry grunted and settled back down. His butt hung off the bench while his back lounged against the house. The sentry’s spear laid carelessly against the trellis.
“The fuck did he stutter?” Rasia asked, emerging from the doorway.
The sentry glanced at her and laughed. “I don’t answer to some cunt desperate for skink dick. Go home.”
Her eyes narrowed through the slit of her shroud, the only warning before Rasia leapt over the porch table and pottery. The sentry reacted, shooting up at the sudden action, to fall back off the bench when Rasia slammed the sentry’s head to the ground and twisted his arm. It popped.
“Too bad you can’t effectively do your job anymore with that broken arm. Looks like you need to request a replacement. Tell them Rasia, child of Kibari Oshield, sent you.” She released him. The sentry scrambled up and wind swept through the chimes at how quickly he bolted down the road.
Kai had never seen that sentry move so fast.
Rasia slapped rolls of gonda leather onto the tailor’s table. Kai’s eyes widened at the sight of it and at the casual way she pulled the rolls from under her caftan and unstrapped them from her back. He spotted other things under her caftan she was not supposed to have—her twin khopesh, sheathed and strapped to her curves by buckles and straps, vials of various animal materials clipped to a belt along her waist, and a pair of pants cut to the knees.
Kai knew Rasia illegally smuggled food into the Grankull, but it made sense she was smuggling other parts of the gonda as well. Every hunt belonged to the Grankull for the Council to appropriate to various sectors, nor were they allowed to wear pants again until after the Naming Ceremony. He remembered all the items scattered alongside the rim of the bath, but the implication didn’t hit him until now. Every inch of Rasia, from head to toe, could be considered illegal.
“I want a pair of pants in his measurements,” Rasia indicated Kai. “A rush-order. We need it in time for the Naming Ceremony. As usual, the leftover leather should be enough to buy your silence.”
“Always a pleasure doing business with you,” the tailor said. He grabbed the rolls of illicit leather and tucked them away. The tailor licked over the metal ring in his lip. “Did you manage to snatch any of that dragon leather?”
“You don’t want those problems,” Rasia reproached. Dragon leather was often used for ceremonial purposes and was rarely available for public purchase. Because of it, the Grankull tracked and monitored it more closely than any other resource.
“You’re right,” the tailor grumbled.
The tailor indicated Kai to come over. Kai ducked under a curtain of suspended leather pouches and weaved through the displays of linen pants with detailed stippling on the waistbands. He admired the green snake leather, the gold speckled pattern of gonda, and the scorpion black that gleamed red in the sun. Towers of white linen were stacked in the back of the shop. Rae held tightly onto his hand, never letting go since they had stepped out of the front door of their house.
Kai stopped where the tailor indicated. It was the first time he had ever been measured for anything. He watched the tailor wrap a notched string about his waist.
“The little one is going to have to let go.”
Kai nodded to Rae. They separated to allow the tailor to complete the circle around Kai’s waist and once released, Rae raced to touch everything in the shop. Before Kai could stop them, they disappeared into a cavern of leather.
“Rasia, can you get them?”
“Let them have their fun.” She tossed an uncaring hand over her shoulder. She leaned atop the tailor’s table. “Maybe make the pants a little looser? He’ll be gaining some weight soon.”
“I thought we were going to alter your jih’s pair?” Kai asked her when the tailor left to grab a different measurement string.
“That’s what I told Nico. This business,” Rasia circled her hand around the store, “is between us.”
“Like how my magic was supposed to be between us?”
“She’s your jih.”
“As if you tell your jih everything.”
Rasia laughed at that. “Oh, I do.”
The tailor returned and finished measuring Kai’s frame with a more knotted string. The tailor didn’t write anything down but memorized the numbers in his head. “I’ll make sure the pants are ready for pick-up the morning of the ceremony.”
“Perfect.”
“Is it true?” the tailor asked. “That he killed a dragon?”
“He’s standing right in fucking front of you. You can ask him yourself.”
The tailor’s neck hinged, notching several vibrations at a time to finally look Kai in the eyes for the first time since he entered the shop. The tailor’s smooth professionalism dropped for a moment to stare at him in gross fascination. He bowed his head under the scrutiny and waited for the question, but it never came.
One of the linen towers toppled.
Almost in relief, Kai rushed to retrieve Rae from underneath the falling sheets of white. He peeled one of the linen cloths from Rae’s head and revealed their cheeky face. He held out his hand. Obediently, they locked back their fingers. By the time he returned to the front of the shop, the tailor had moved on.
“What’s next for you?” the tailor asked Rasia. “Following Shamai Windbreaker’s footsteps to become a kull hunter?”
“Of course. Don’t know what happens with the business after that, but I am my tah’s kid. It’ll be a kull’s life for me.”
“I reckon with you in the hunting kulls, the Grankull will never starve again. Stay wary the Hunter.”
“Wary the Hunter,” Rasia said. She took two steps out of the store, when she suddenly stopped. Kai ran into her, then looked past her shoulder. The sun gleamed a crown atop the head of a giant, who peered down at her, with an unimpressed expression.
“What did you do this time?” Ysai asked.
“That sentry sucked at his job, and he made fun of Kai’s dick. He had it coming.”
“Yes, but,” Ysai indicated Kai and Rae, “they can’t be out in public without a sentry. The Grankull will think we’re not doing our jobs.”
“Trust me, you weren’t.” Rasia nudged Ysai with her elbow. “Tah sent you, as usual, to clean up my mess? You’re the replacement sentry?”
Ysai huffed. “Yes, I’m the replacement sentry.”
Rasia cheered. Then she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to Kai. “Ysai-ji. Kai. Ysai-ji. Kai’s grubworm.”
“Rae,” Kai said, automatically, faintly.
Throughout the Forging, Rasia had jealously complained of Ysai’s height, but there was nothing like experiencing it first-hand, like the difference between spotting an enormous sand dune in the distance and finally standing at the base of its shadow. Kai felt utterly small in comparison. Ysai towered over not only him, but most of the crowded market. Most of Ysai’s dusty brown hair had been gathered into a braided snake down his back. He wore the typical armor of the sentries: a gonda leather vest, a dragonsteel spear, and a carapace shield.
Ysai grinned, an odd replica of Rasia’s own, and said, “I’ve heard a lot about you these past few days. A lot.”
Rasia stuck out her tongue.
Kai remembered her words back in the tailor’s shop—how she tells her jih everything. His face warmed, and an anxiousness jittered through his limbs. Surely, Rasia didn’t tell him everything.
Ysai asked him, “tell me a little bit about this job? Obviously, I haven’t had time for a proper orientation.”
Ysai walked at Kai’s side and provided a convenient shield. Groups of shrouds walked around the tall adult, while messengers ran around him like an obstacle in the road. You didn’t move someone like Ysai easily.
“Historically, the Council has assigned one sentry to the magic-born family to prevent ransoms. Usually because,” Kai swiped a hand over his eyes. “Some of us are born with the eyes, and we stick out regardless of the shrouds. When Rae is with me, people know who they are and can target them. They are your priority. There have been . . .” Kai didn’t know how much Rasia told Ysai about Nico and the danger to the family, but he was wary of speaking it aloud in the middle of the market. “We want them safe.”
“Got it.” Then the tower of Ysai crouched down in front of Rae and whispered conspiratorially. “Want to ride on my back?”
Their eyes widened in excitement, then stared at their interlocked hand, and up at Kai for permission. He nodded. They cheered.
Ysai laughed and Rae hopped onto his shoulders.
They bounced down the market street and Kai wondered at the view—if Rae could see a pattern to the merchant tents, artist carts, and the sitting rugs of the hawkers? Weavers worked giant looms right along the street, showing off their skill weaving linen and silk. Pottery makers, evory and calabash carvers, basket weavers, papyrus soakers, perfume extractors, and all other tradespersons crowded under the belly with shouts of deals and discounts that zig-zagged through the air.
The market was unusually busy today, now that people had more rations and some extra money to tackle their various to-do lists. It was almost suffocating squeezing through the crowd. As they walked, Kai drew several eyes—a change considering most willfully avoided him. Hushed whispers traveled in his wake. His shoulders hunched to his ears as he tried to ignore them.
With Ysai and Rae a little way ahead, Rasia slyly pushed Kai out the river stream of people and toward a store. He stopped in the doorway once he eyed the merchant’s wares. Sex tools of all sorts hung on display around the tent. A string of dildos, of several sizes and materials, hung from the beams. High grade palm oil sat in stacks on the shelves. Brass rings and beads sparkled like jewelry. Most of the items Kai had no idea what they were for, but he was sort of curious to figure them out. The store had available every tool an adult could hope to have in their inventory.
The merchant ran forward to shoo at them. “Out. No children in the store.”
Rasia reached into her shroud and proudly pulled out her Forging seal, issued to all those who successfully returned to the Grankull from the Forging. “We’re not. We’re Naming candidates, and we are here to peruse your wonderful array of wares.”
The merchant crossed his arms and glared. “You are no adult until you have more than the name your tahs gave you. Come back in two days. Now, out!”
Kai fled backward and bumped right into Ysai’s leg. Ysai placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him, and quickly released him.
“You really thought that was going to work?” Ysai asked, who had circled back around to find them.
“Eh, it was worth a shot.” Rasia tossed a hand over her shoulder, and without pause, popped over to a booth that sold cheap medicine for those who could not afford the healers. She crouched down, as if correcting her shoe, then came back up with one of the vials attached to the belt under her clothes. He recognized it as the leftover paralytic they extracted from the scorpions. As before with the tailor, Rasia crossed her hands over her shoulders, almost as a form of identification, and the vendor quickly swooped up the vials. Kai listened as they bartered in low voices.
He found himself engrossed by the way Rasia finessed the market compared to the barterers and hagglers who spend all day driving down the prices. The latter never worked for Kai. Sometimes they would intentionally sell to him at marked up prices, and it took years for him to find the ones willing to be fair.
“Are you . . .” Kai didn’t know the words he was after and gave up trying to find them once Rasia hopped to another booth and used sleight of hand to exchange skinko eyeballs for bone chips.
He knew she did some illegal stuff from time to time, but this was the first time he had witnessed the extent of it. Her smuggling venture was a lot more organized than he ever imagined. This was a whole other side of her that he didn’t know existed.
Ysai noted Kai’s conflicted expression and explained in low tones as they walked, “Shamai-ta promised himself that he would never see his family starve. It was initially his idea, but Kiba-ta developed the business behind it all. She formed relationships with the sentry guards, often those she trusted in her employ, and cut deals with the merchants. We did turn in plenty of kills to the Grankull and gave a lot of it away, but we kept just enough for the family that by the time the Grankull hit hard years, the tahs were already the leaders of a small smuggling ring.”
“So . . . the Han of the sentries is the leader of a smuggling ring, while in charge of destroying and breaking up everyone else’s smuggling ring?”
“Essentially,” Ysai said without a hint of remorse or guilt. Although they’ve had little interaction, Ysai had always treated Kai equitably over the years. In that time, the affable adult had never come across as the reliable left arm of a crime family. Kai found that Ysai and Rasia’s moral compasses were oddly aligned.
“The herbs that you and Rasia retrieved on behalf of the Council?”
“We got enough of what the healers needed, but we pocketed some of it,” Ysai admitted. “Kiba-ta will wait until the off-season when the herbs grow scarce and then sell it for ten times the price. At the same time, the Council didn’t pay me any extra wages for the effort. The healers didn’t have to risk their own people. It’s a win all around.”
They caught up to Rasia inspecting a shoe booth. She leaned over to the vendor, made the sign, and said, “I want to see your back inventory.”
She disappeared into the store.
“What’s the back inventory?” Kai asked.
“Tent kids sell him shoes they’ve stolen. The cobbler refurbishes them until they’re unrecognizable, then sells them at a marked price—but still reasonable for a pair of leather shoes. The shoes in the back are the ones not yet furbished, but some of them are in good condition. We sell him our scraps of leather sometimes.”
“You’re a terrible sentry.”
“Probably,” Ysai said, and then inclined his head toward two full-shrouded figures who held hands between the narrow alley of the stalls. The rules for half-shrouded budchildren were looser, able to hold hands or ride on someone’s shoulders without criticism, but the fully shrouded were banned from all touch in public. Ysai walked up to them, made a single disapproving face, and the underaged kids screeched before scattering in different directions. He laughed all the way back to Kai’s side.
“Sometimes I look the other way,” Ysai smirked. “Sometimes I keep secrets. The Grankull, it’s not . . . kind. But tent kids got to eat too.”
Kai had heard those words before, once or twice from Zephyr. He mulled over the phrase, and then it hit him in a flash, in a blinding realization—why Rasia never fit so neatly into the Grankull rules and didn’t care to; why she prioritized the people closest in her circle far more than she ever would the Grankull at large. All the stories of their tah, all Rasia’s actions, and even Ysai’s temperament—it all made sense once you found the missing page.
“Shamaijen Windbreaker was from the Tents.”
“Yeah,” Ysai said, proudly. “Tah was a tent kid. He broke the Grankull’s Forging record and earned his face, but the Tents never really left him. He was determined to teach us how to take care of ourselves because he knew that sometimes the Grankull often failed to do so. He taught us about windships, and taught Rasia and I how to hunt. He shaped a lot of who we are.”
People often spoke of Shamaijen Windbreaker with respect and awe. No one mentioned how he used to be from the Tents, as if the place he had come from didn’t matter after the Forging, but it was obvious Shamaijen had continued to carry his birthplace, and this had informed all his decisions and actions since.
Kai wondered if that would happen to him—after the Naming would everyone forget who he once was and who he had been, although he would be the one to carry his past for the rest of his life?
Rasia returned with a pair of shoes she bought for three chips, and Kai stared aghast at the cheapness of them. She shoved the shoes at him and told him to try them on. They were the first closed toed pair of shoes he had ever owned. They fit well, but he couldn’t help but wonder who they were stolen from.
Rasia gave an approving nod and then set off toward another booth that displayed hand-carved evory, also known as processed gonda chitin. Kai recognized the voice of Neema, the shrouded vendor Rasia had stopped to talk to.
Neema’s family was most famous for their secret technique in fashioning gonda chitin into evory statues. They’ve always been masterful artists, but they didn’t get rich until Zephyr’s tah came to town. Evory was in high demand in distant countries, and that demand propelled Neema’s family to one of the richest in the entire Grankull, so much so they had to fend off rivals who wanted to steal their secret techniques.
The more intricate designs weren’t on display—probably hidden in a locked chest somewhere—but the stall’s inventory included necklaces of small animals, hoops of teeth, and delicate rings. Most popular was the carving of a stylized sun, a charm people wore to ward off the Hunter’s Eye. Sometimes, people clutched their charms when Kai passed them by—as if his mere presence symbolized bad luck and bad omens.
“Got the story down?” Rasia asked.
“Yeah, I got it,” Neema said, her chin on the palm of her hand.
Rae popped up from under Kai’s arm to peek at the display, startling him, for he had missed when Rae had scrambled down Ysai like a date palm. They marveled at the intricate dragons carved into majestic poses.
“You want something? It’s on me,” Neema said.
“Really?” Rasia asked.
“You did get us back home.”
Rasia reached for the dragon in mid-flight, but Kai caught her hand. Beside him, Rae hit a disappointed chin against the stand. He explained, “It’s fine. We don’t need anything.”
“Let the kid have something nice.” Rasia swiveled her wrist out of Kai’s grip. She grabbed the figurine and threw it in the air, to both Neema’s and Kai’s horror. Rasia caught it effortlessly behind her back, then handed it over to Rae with a smug look. “See? I am fun.”
“Perhaps this exchange can be the start of a mutual business relationship, you know, in case you happen to have any chitin on hand,” Neema suggested.
“Nope,” Rasia said. Neema jerked back at the word. “Your family is thriving. You don’t need any more than what the Grankull has portioned for you.”
“My family creates more value from it than any other artist in the belly market, and the Grankull gets a cut with every sale. We’re singlehandedly keeping this place running.”
“Cute,” Rasia popped the word and then strolled off down the street.
Neema’s eyes narrowed after her. Kai grabbed the dragon from Rae and moved to return it. She glanced at it, and then snapped, “Keep it.”
The dragon thudded at the force Kai placed it back onto the booth. He gathered up his jih and followed after Rasia. Two years ago, while at the market, Rae had run over to look at the carved windships. When Kai had pulled Rae away, Neema accused him of stealing and stabbed a necklace straight through his hand. It went all the way through.
He doubted Neema remembered it. Automatically, he rubbed his hand where the scar still lingered after all these years.
“You okay?” Ysai asked as he scooped Rae back onto his shoulders.
“I’m fine.”
They turned down a small but infamous street called the Lungs, where the blacksmiths turned scorpion carapaces and dragon-scales into weapons. From a distance, you could see the smoke curling over the buildings, huffing like some living creature. They entered the largest shop on the block where the symbol of Azan’s blacksmith clan hung out front. Ysai swung Rae off his shoulders to bend down and enter through the doorway.
Aden, Azan’s older jih, stood at attention once Ysai walked through the front door.
“I thought you’d be out with the kulls?” Ysai asked, rushing forward and clasping Aden along the arm. Aden melted at the touch and returned it with a soppy smile.
“Supposed to have been, but the Council commissioned more sentry armor and the family needed the extra help.” Aden looked over Ysai’s shoulder at Rasia, Kai, and Rae. Kai held onto Rae’s hand to make sure they didn’t touch any of the sharp weapons displayed around the shop. “What’s the occasion? Please don’t tell me she’s here to buy another sword. She broke another one?”
“Ha! I do need to replace some stuff I lost during the Forging, but I’m here to see your jih. The youngest one.”
Aden yelled toward the back. “AZAN! It’s Rasia!”
Rasia’s brows went up when Azan came out, shirt off, and sweaty—along with two other half-naked and sweaty muscled jihs. Many perused the store’s wares just for the view.
“The crazy dragon kid? Oh, the runt is here too,” one of the jihs said gleefully.
“It’s Kai!” Rasia corrected, before hooking an arm around Azan’s shoulders and pulling him outside so his jihs couldn’t eavesdrop on the fabricated lie they’d created for the Forging.
“Azan says you’re like hot under there?” One of the jihs said, coming from around the corner to study Kai like a sword on display. Kai froze at the scrutiny. The same jih looked up at Aden and waggled his eyes before shoving Kai toward the desk. “Just your type, right, Aden-ji?”
“Leave him alone.”
Another jih chimed in, “You did used to have the biggest flame for Kenjinn Ilhani.”
“By the Elder, shut up.” Aden slapped his hands to his face. “Get back to work.”
“I remember when you’d come back home from a day of apprenticing with him and then jerk off—urgh—” Aden leapt and wrestled him to the ground. A sword display clattered down when they knocked into the wall, luckily narrowly missing the knot of limbs.
“They can’t be together for one vibration before a fight breaks out,” Ysai said as he guided Rae and Kai out of the chaos. They stepped outside to Rasia and Azan conspiring in the street.
“Don’t fuck this up, Azan. You got this?”
“Yeah, I’ll remember everything. I promise.”
“Good,” Rasia pointed at him as she walked away. “Also, Naming night. Orgy. Invite all your jihs.”
“I’m not having sex with my jihs!” Azan shouted at her, causing everyone in the street to turn towards him in shock. Rasia cackled and motioned Ysai and Kai back around the corner, a turn away from the main street. Rae complained of how their feet hurt, and Kai automatically scooped them up in his arms. They left behind the bustling market.
Rasia turned left toward the Hindlegs, but Ysai caught her by the shoulder. “Whoa, where are you going?”
“The Tents,” she said. “We’ve still got to run by Zephyr’s to make sure he knows the story.”
“Rasia, we’re not taking them into the Tents.”
“We’ll be fine. Kai can hold his own.”
“It doesn’t matter how many people he can fight; it only takes one inopportune mistake, one knife, and the youngest heir is dead. The Grankull will be in an uproar, and tah will have my neck. They cannot go into the Tents.”
“Fine.” Rasia shuffled through her clothes and handed Kai a wrapped package. Then pulled forward quick, before anyone could see, and kissed his shrouded lips. “I’ll meet up with you both after high noon for training. Jih, you know which field. See you later!”
As quick as the whirlwind she rode in on that morning, she spun and ran off down the road.