“Wonder what you’re doing right now, Maiya,” he muttered, running his fingers over the bracelet she’d fashioned for him. Neel perked up inquisitively at his words.
Where was she? Was she still completing her favor for Riyan? Vir could only hope she found the breadcrumbs he’d left for her. As the days passed, his desire to see her grew and grew. Like a hole in his heart. He missed her dearly.
Wonder if Ekanai and Shardul had people they cared about.
Vir guessed Shardul might have, but Ekanai? He really wanted to understand how that man had become so jaded. The demon’s life must have been a difficult one, full of pain and suffering.
Wonder if they’ll help me out now. He was making his way to the Ashen Realm, after all. Would they be happy with that? Would they even notice?
Vir understood little about how much awareness they possessed. If Ekanai could have controlled him continuously, Vir was sure the demon would’ve done so. And yet, his prior incarnations only came alive during times of extreme danger.
But to know that Vir was in danger, they had to be aware to some degree. He certainly hoped they were. He’d sleep easier at night knowing they had his back.
Would be nice if I could chat with them…
Eight months. Less than a year had passed since he’d left Brij, and yet more had happened in that time than the eight years prior.
Vir looked up at the stars.
So clear…
Because there was hardly any prana in the air to impede his vision. Even with Prana Vision flaring, there were hardly any motes in the sky. It was a different story in the ocean. Water, Life, and a smattering of other affinities filled it.
There was another ocean within the ground. The Earth Affinity prana was perhaps slightly less than what it had been in Daha, but an ocean was an ocean.
Maiya would be hard pressed to use her orbs here, but Vir would have no trouble at all, and that gave him an edge.
With the heat of the dying embers and hot rocks under his back, Vir slept peacefully, lulled into slumber by the sound of distant waves.
Vir hadn’t expected to be impressed by Zorin. It was a small coastal town on the very edge of the Rani Queendom. What could it have that Daha didn’t? And Saran was the first major city Vir had ever laid eyes on. What could beat the novelty of a first experience?
He was right in some ways. In others, he was wrong. They called Zorin the Town of Rainbow, and he’d wondered why. This side of Rani wasn’t known for its rain.
Vir now understood why.
The town was an explosion of color. Its red brick buildings boasted tapestries of all colors and designs. Tile roofs were painted over in pinks, greens, blues, yellows, and reds. Wherever Vir looked, color burst.
If there was prana to support them, Vir was sure he’d have seen hot air balloons in just as many hues, flying above the city. As it was, the skies remained empty, and yet the city still felt more lively than Daha.
Everyone had said Hiranya was a poor kingdom, and Vir thought he understood what a rich one would look like. Clean streets, a minimum of slums, and well-constructed buildings. Zorin had all of that, but Vir realized he’d been dead wrong on everything else. A single glance at the Rainbow Town showed him just how rich the Rani Queendom was.
The architecture might have set the tone, but it was the people that completed it. Not only was their clothing as colorful as their town, they wore designs Vir had never seen. They chatted with one another and even strangers greeted him—that shocked Vir the most.
Zorinfolk bustled about contentedly. Some even outright smiled. People moved with a purpose. Empowered. Full of life that Dahans sorely lacked.
Where in Daha, most wore gray, brown, or black cloaks, here, women wore dresses of a thousand designs, while men sported vests, shirts, shorts, pants, and even kilts. Some bore intricate embroidery, while others kept their outfits basic.
Even those who dressed modestly looked good in a way Vir couldn’t place. Well considered, he decided. The clothing design, proportions, and color all matched in a way that pleased the eye.
The cobblestone roads, while not wide, were clean. They were neither crowded nor empty. Enough traffic bustled around to make the town feel lively, yet not to where it became packed like Daha.
It was all the more impressive when Vir remembered Zorin was even more remote than Saran had been from Daha. But if this was a backwater, he really wanted to know what the Rani capital, Avi, was like.
Once again, Vir felt like a country bumpkin as he rode in on Bumpy. He wondered whether each new city would make him feel this way, or if it was a Ranian thing. He hoped it was the latter.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Vir remembered his priorities. Highest of which was weaponry. Right now, all he had were the two iron knives he’d swiped from Brij. He needed something better. Ideally, a katar. Given the town’s vibrancy, he held hope he just might find one of the exotic weapons here.
He’d intended to consult the convenient street signs placed at every intersection to find a reputable blacksmith, but the local population stepped in to help instead. A well-dressed man wearing a fine hat hailed him, asking if he needed directions.
Instead of telling him where to go, the man actually walked with Vir all the way to an impressive two-story brick building.
Just when Vir suspected the man would ask for payment in return, he’d bowed and left.
Guess people here really are that nice. That will take some getting used to.
Vir tied Bumpy up outside, commanding Neel to guard him. The two made a good pair and had long ago grown comfortable with the arrangement. Neel paced around, on the prowl for anyone who might dare lay their hands on his bigger cousin.
Then Vir’s eyes popped, and his jaw hit the floor. From wall to wall, racks of the most beautiful weapons Vir had ever laid eyes on greeted him.
Vir feared he’d be walking out with a much lighter coin bag.
6BARGAINS & BROTHERHOODS
It wasn’t the array of polearms, or the shields of all sizes and shapes, or even the flails, maces, talwars, or greatswords that caught Vir’s eye.
Sure, those were all very impressive, crafted of all grades of steels ranging from the mundane to the exotic. No seric, though. Vir had yet to see a single seric weapon in a store.
The store carried chakrams! They carried katars!
Well, one katar, and a handful of chakrams. It wasn’t a gallery, but the fact they had them at all made Vir nearly jump with joy. His pair of basic iron knives didn’t exactly inspire confidence in a fight.
But Vir knew how this game was played. He restrained himself. The well-dressed, slim shopkeeper with his waxed handlebar mustache had monitored Vir from the moment he entered the shop. Knowing this, Vir dilly dallied, putting on a bored look despite his excitement.
“Can I help you with anything?” the clerk asked.
Vir expected a more stern-looking person running a weapon and armor shop, and while the man lacked affinities of any kind, Vir could tell he was a warrior, nonetheless. Not a warrior after the Kin’jals—who were heavyset and built like Ash’va—but a more refined warrior. The man had not a shred of fat on him, and the hourglass shape of his torso spoke of muscles built for a purpose.
“Just perusing. Thought I’d see if you had anything interesting in stock. Not really seeing anything of interest, though,” Vir replied, idly checking out a spear.