Chapter 12 | PoV: Aisha
Aisha woke up from a rather fitful night. She had spent too long staring up at her ceiling, then tossing and turning in her sleep. Then waking up abruptly, just to stare at the ceiling as time bled by.
She had almost been tempted to put up a slowing time bubble around herself, to give her more time to sleep.
That was stupid.
So, at the crack of dawn, Aisha pushed herself off her bed and readied for her big day.
Today, she would join the caravan looking for the Second Prince’s whereabouts.
And, if they were all being honest, his corpse.
Well, his skeleton. Almost two days later, the sand vultures and sharks would have picked at his flesh while the brutal tempest burned the rest of him away, leaving only the bones behind.
Unfortunately, this meant they could come across any old pile of bones and it could be anyone. Well, maybe the clothing and magic staves would be left behind. Metals, rocks, things with higher melting points would all be there.
It was a good thing Aisha was advanced enough to detect trace amounts of mana. That was one of her essays—
Her essays.
Right, one of the things that had been keeping Aisha up all night, minus the anticipation.
Rafiq, suggesting to Aisha that she burn her essay.
She knew exactly which one.
The one she had been working on recently.
It was revolutionary! She had practice and evidence that mages were all pretty dumb. Mages, when they cast, often took some sort of backlash. Heat mages cooling the air too much would get sweaty and even feverish if not taken care of. Aeolian mages cooling down the air took it in for themselves, often risking too much and threatening hyperventilation. Temporal mages could drain away their life, using it as a resource to speed up time. Of course, the reverse was true for all of them. Both creation and suppression had some sort of personal recoil.
Except, it didn't. Aisha could redirect any personal damages into the environment. Theoretically, she could put a time bubble and speed herself up, and redirect the reciprocation onto her enemy, thus giving her a further advantage for her skills instead.
It was strong. It was dangerous. The implication was scary.
So, yeah, maybe Aisha should burn her essay for the betterment of society.
Aisha's replacement for yesterday, Hend, had promised Aisha she hadn't read her essay.
That liar, she probably had.
Whatever.
Would Hend replicate it—had she replicated it already? Or could she only write down what she remembered? Or had she truly not read Aisha's essay in the few hours she had been gone?
Anyway, Aisha had returned to the tower after that whole legislature ordeal, and after lunch. The rest of the day went by normally.
No. There was no point thinking about this.
Her satchel sat on the desk beside her bed, essay contained within. Did she leave it here? Did she think her house would be broken into while she was gone?
Maybe she should take it with her, have it near her at all times?
She really should just burn the thing.
She got dressed in her mage robes, ate a meager breakfast, did her hygiene routine, and finally, returned to her room and picked up her satchel and staff.
She left the house and headed towards the western gate.
She owned a modest house—one story, just the bare minimum. A small bedroom, a smaller kitchen and dining, and a washroom with a toilet—powered by some poor aeolian mages somewhere and not with water. She did not have running water, nobody did.
She could buy something bigger, but agents did not want to sell to single women or something. Whatever.
Aisha kept an easy pace, walking down the street towards the western gate. She stuck to moving under the pergola when she could.
The walk, for the most part, was what one might expect from a wall through a large thoroughfare in Glorestra.
Hundreds of bodies moved about. The occasional cart or wagon rumbled down the street being pulled by camels.
People shouted their wares from the side of the street, not wanting to set up in the bazaar for whatever reason. Convenience for both the seller and those walking by? Hungry? Have this quick bite! Is someone's clothing too torn? Try this garment! Need another pot to store water or contain food? Here's this fine work of pottery!
So, it came as a surprise when Aisha passed by a startling piece of commotion. She could not help herself to stop her journey through the street to gawk. She did, at least, to remove the possibility of getting in anyone else’s way while she stopped to figure out what exactly currently transpired.
A two-story building stuck out from the other one-stories around it. Four guards stood vigilant at the doorway into the building, two on each side. A couple more created a bubble in the otherwise packed calamity of people walking in the streets. They allowed room for a bunch of kids to either lightly play and mess with each other or look at the building with fear. Three other people stood in the rough half-circle of space, including two individuals in government robes. The third wore more casual clothing.
A minute later, even more kids were ushered out of the building, trailing a government official of some department, and followed by a seventh guard.
Aisha crossed the street, avoiding colliding with anyone or stepping too close in front of people.
“Okay,” one of the officials engaged in conversation with the casual individual. Casual did not really cut it, because he had an important air to him, the way he stood straight and everything else. “You can take five. As the deal said. From the literate ones.”
What?
Was Aisha witnessing government corruption unfold in the middle of the streets? Should she . . . report this? Wait, maybe this was another orphanage owner, and maybe he wanted to take care of as many kids as he could. Maybe he was good. Yet, why were the orphanage kids being split up, seemingly? Why specifically the literate ones?
Why was an orphanage being raided anyway?
A guard came out, pushing a woman forward, her arms bound behind her back with chains. The owner of the establishment? She had long, brown hair and tan skin. Her unkempt hair fell over her face a bit, and she did not have the free hands to push it back behind her ears. Her dress looked simple, this was probably on the poorer side of orphanages, or one with resources stretched thin.
Maybe this was a case of an evil caretaker, and they are moving the kids and detaining her on account of abuse?
She did not look like the type to be abusive. Yet, appearances were not everything.
She was actually sobbing. “I didn't do anything . . . I didn't mistreat them, I swear.”
She was promptly gagged.
“Latifah!” A small kid exclaimed. A bigger one restrained him by the back of the collar and told him to shush.
“Is she going to be okay?” A second asked, tugging at the robes of one of the officials.
A couple kids started crying upon seeing Latifah.
Um . . . Aisha couldn't make heads or tails of this situation. Her skull throbbed. Actually, maybe that was the heat.
Ugh, Aisha was going to be late to the caravan.
Yet . . .
“Can I, maybe, get all of them?” The casual man suddenly asked.
The official shook his head. “You know the deal. These ones have all been secured a place already. You can have none at all.”
The casual man's face went red. He looked on the verge of bursting. “Okay . . . Okay . . . The five are fine. I'll take the five.”
“Which ones are literate?” The official went over to Latifah and temporarily took the gag out of her mouth.
She looked pale. She listed off ten names.
The casual man looked distraught. “Which ones do you think have the brightest future? The most intelligent? The top five?”
“I—” Latifah shook her head. “I can't rank my kids in front of them.”
“Please.”
“W-who are you? Are they going to be safe?” Latifah begged.
“Yes,” He looked sincere, or was at least a very good liar. “I'm going to put them into a very fine academy. Their potentials will be able to flourish.”
Latifah listed off five names.
The casual man nodded, then turned to the official. “I'll take those five off your hands then.”
“Okay,” the official then called for those five names and told them to gather up.
The casual man told the kids to hold each other's hands so they wouldn't get lost, and for the first in the chain to hold his. They broke off from the group and headed in Aisha's direction of the street.
Aisha intercepted the casual man.
He swallowed hard and took a step back. He glanced around nervously, maybe looking for a way to go around her.
“What in Heliux's name was that all about? Can you tell me?” Aisha demanded.
“P-please, you're holding up the foot traffic.”
Aisha crossed her arms and frowned. “I hope I'm not holding up anything more nefarious.”
“I'm not doing anything wrong! You see—multiple orphanages have been raided recently. The kids disappear after that. I wanted to save as many as I can, at least I know where these kids will go. I don't know why the city guard and government officials are involved with this—I really must go!”
“Who is this lady? . . .” A kid said.
“Where will the ones you took go?” Aisha continued with the man.
“An academy!”
“Which?”
The casual man paused. “I-I . . .”
Aisha scowled at him. Okay, so he couldn't divulge the academy. Were they actually going to an academy?
“Is she going to hurt us?” Another kid asked. He was being comforted by an older kid, probably around sixteen.
“Y-you’re a temporal mage,” the casual man stated.
Aisha nodded slowly.
The man carefully dug into his robes. He pulled out a folded sheet of paper and handed it to her.
“Ok-goodbye!” He took off, with the kids in tow. The man circumvented Aisha. She made no attempt to stop him.
Aisha stood there and blinked. Could she trust the man? What even? . . . What did she make of any of that?
Maybe the paper would have some semblance of an answer.
So, she unfolded the paper and took a look at it.
It was a missive for a merchant caravan, bound eastward to some random cavern town Aisha had never heard of before—simply called “Hope.” The caravan was set to leave in two nights. It was a shipment of raw food items and ingredients. It made no mention of escorting children. What did they have to hide? What was this town? Was it real? She would have to ask Rafiq about it the next time she saw him.
She folded the paper back up and slid it into her satchel. Then, she continued towards the western gate.
Maybe, in two nights, she'd explore that caravan.