Chapter One – Part One – Penance
The sun was setting unseasonably early in Ckuien Penance, forcing the local businesses to either rely on the inconsistent light of Jag Har’Oah by which to conduct their trade, or to shorten their days according to the amount of available light they needed in order to efficiently conduct business. Bakers did most of their work at night and thus went unaffected; smiths required very good quality light by which to run their forges, and as such restricted their work drastically, as did many of the potters and other artisans. This, somehow, also caused the nobility and petite court of Penance to drop from a snail’s pace to a near stand-still nearly a month ahead of schedule, which left unsettled aristocrats and poseur nobles without any trade at all, other than spending as much of their amassed wealth as they could on women, drink and drugs. This meant more work for the local civil guard, of course, which in turn put pressure on the armourers and other smiths to lower themselves to working in the dark. Few of them did, thankfully, as that would have reduced the quality of the guard’s arms, which in turn may have put a boom on the trade of morticians and lawyers alike – neither of which could handle the strain of an overnight tripling of demand. They would simply be driven to drink. The pub owners would love that.
Curled up by the fire in a sprawling public house known as the Sword and Shield, Rhayd Khalenn pondered just how rich the pub’s owner must be by now, and how much pressure he must be exerting on the local smiths to help the lawyers and morticians dive into his draft kegs. Auss Maran seemed to have a natural affinity for any situation which could make him money, so Rhayd was sure if he could find the relation between bad lighting and better business selling false tranquillity, Auss was even more likely to have begun some crusade to turn the sun’s laziness to his benefit.
Even now, before Rhayd’s exhausted eyes, the one-armed barman was heckling another poor drunken fool into buying one last carafe before he turned in for the night. Of course, Auss would water the mug beforehand, add some fruit juice to make the thinned ale look more natural, and toss in a pinch of salt and vinegar to make it taste more like unaltered brew. Whenever anyone caught him, Auss would grin and claim it was to prevent his victim from being poisoned by too much spirits. The man was a phenomenon. No wonder Rhayd’s older brother loved dealing with him. They were two peas in a pod, most days, and other days they could pass for each other if you were blind to their completely different appearances.
Appearances often deceived. Take Rhayd himself, slumped by the fire cradling a tankard of ale – unaltered, thick brown Penance ale, he had been coming to this place long enough to recognize the difference by sight alone unlike most of Auss patrons. A shaggy mop of russet hair masking a narrow face with too-strong cheekbones and bright, chilling green eyes. Wire-thin frame, long limbs and narrow hips. Often, when they were growing up, he and his sister Rhailynn had been mistaken for each other despite being only fraternal twins, but upon striking puberty, Rhailynn had blossomed and Rhayd had simply gotten taller, though not by much.
Certainly not as tall as the sorry fool Auss was plying that one last drink on. At nearly three hands taller than the average man, Kintere Toralyon was a giant among the men of Ckuien Penance, built like an ox and with the constitution of some legendary Namari ogre. It didn’t help that the boy was a Namari tribesman himself, one of the very few anyone outside the jungle had ever seen. He and his brother Porphigaul had come out of the jungle nearly a decade ago, when Rhayd was still very young himself, and attached themselves to Auss Maran and his flourishing trade business. But where Porphigaul had made the best of his new home, establishing relations between the clans of the deep jungle and the more civilized world outside, Kintere had been left to tag along, and Rhayd had been stuck with him ever since. Rhayd’s elder brother, their father Jayce, Auss Maran and Porphigaul would closet themselves in whatever place they had descended upon to do business with that week, and Kintere would be left with Rhayd and Rhailynn with no other amusement available.
At least that was until they had all gotten old enough for Auss to let them drink in his pub. Rhayd only spent one or two nights of a given week here, looking out for Kintere who spent nearly every waking minute that wasn’t dedicated to acting like a beast of burden to acquire more coin to spend on even more ale here. Rhailynn never bothered. Where Rhayd had mastered every lesson their father required of him without afterthought, Rhailynn had chosen the path of the ascetic, the consummate scholar, and last year had departed for the Weavers’ Academy on Tan Maevin at Attensah. Rhayd missed his twin sorely, but found he spent more and more time looking after her replacement, convincing Kintere he really didn’t need that one last drink Auss was pushing at him. It was usually a lost cause.
Rhayd sighed. He seriously considered not bothering Kintere and leaving him to his drunken stupors. At least then he might have time for more worthy pursuits. Yet somehow, obligation mastered him still and he stood, as he did every night lately, abandoning his tankard on his table and meandering through the crowd toward his drunken friend in mid-battle with Penance’s most convincing salesman.