Imprudent: Chapter 4: Collisions

Based on our observations, it appears that the human population on Nephaas is dominated by a locally adapted Hibernaramus variant, although isolated populations of extreme-cold and extreme-heat adapted ramuses have been identified in the equatorial and polar regions respectively. All three ramus types were attested to in our records, but other ramus types that should also exist on the planet seem to have been reduced or eliminated due to the extreme local environmental pressures.

At present, due to our limited resources, we have decided against attempting to make contact or gain small tissue samples for analysis. Most of our efforts continue to be directed towards determining the cause of our failed transit.

###

Raavi ava Laargan

Waking up, I clamped my mouth shut and rolled out of bed. Over by my desk was the small project I had worked on for the last week—a clockwork tower that fit over my sand tray. Grabbing the quartz die from where it sat, I Breathed out into it. Then, as it glowed with the usual green-yellow, I smoothed out the sand and drew a line down the middle.

Taking a deep breath, I set the clockwork contraption on top of the tray and started it spinning. Then, bracing myself, I asked my question, and dropped the glowing die into the chute at the top.

Down it went, bouncing off of gears and paddles; the designs I had found at the library had insisted that this mechanism would help improve the prediction accuracy significantly. I could only hope that they were right.

Finally, the die bounced down the final chute and landed in the sand bowl, sending up a small wave of sand grains.

Looking down at the die sitting in the sand-filled tray, I tried to keep my frown from growing too much. It was so much better to find out this way, so I rose from where I was kneeling and put it away. Of course, I was disappointed, but, well…

It was better this way.

I kept repeating that to myself as I bathed, taking a brisk shower—the water was cooler than normal, and I made a note to check the water heater—and then went downstairs. There I found a few of my housemates awake and off-shift. It was the usual collection that I’d grown used to over the last few weeks of winter. Stylio was sitting in my father’s armchair, reading a book from my mother’s library of medical books, apparently absorbed. Zoy wasn’t present, thankfully. There was no way I could have kept my expression steady if she’d been there.

Over by the kitchen table, a bunch of other overwinterers were clustered around a board game I didn't recognize. They all had hands of cards that they were examining, and in the middle of the table there was an intricate board laden with small wooden and metal pieces, and more cards spread out between them. Judging by the mugs of beer and bowls of snacks, most of them half-empty, they’d been at it for a while.

Janiina grinned from behind her hand, slapped down a card, and said, “I charge five quartz and three pyrite with Breath!”

I had no idea what that meant, but by the way the others groaned and cursed, I guessed it was good for her. I just went into the kitchen and quietly put some breakfast together. The leftovers from the Sundown Feast were long since gone, and we were now working through the stocks of preserved foods and staples from the pantry, as well as a ration of milk from the small dairy.

Making myself some toast and tea—I was definitely going to have to get my mother some more—I settled in a chair and ate, my mind on other things. I still had my project, plus my shifts at the ironworks. And besides, hadn’t Stylio said that she was a wandering penitent? Given how the mayor treated them, there was no way that they’d want to stay for longer than the winter, so it was better this way.

I kept telling myself that as I took the empty plate and cup over to the sink and gave them a rinse before putting them in the drying rack; nearby, the game was still progressing, and judging by the pile of tokens in front of Janiina and the enormous grin on her face, she was probably going to win.

As much as they looked like they were having fun, I wanted to be alone at the moment, so I gave some polite comments and made my way down to the basement, where my workshop was.

Lighting the oilsap lamp with my new lighter, I looked at my project, walking around it and testing the parts and connections. It looked like it was just about ready. I had a few parts left to make at the ironworks, and I’d probably be able to finish it up before I went back to sleep. And then I could take it out for a try; it was definitely cold and windy enough to use at this point in the season.

Which meant that it was time for me to get over to the ironworks and put in some time.

Heading back upstairs, I went into the antechamber and started suiting up for the bone-chilling cold outside. Thick wool socks. Boots with steel cleats. Two layers of pants. Three layers of shirts, the innermost made of fabric that would wick away my sweat. Scarf. A fur-lined coat that I had inherited from my father, with a thick hood. A fur-lined hat with flaps that would cover my ears. Gloves. A pair of goggles that would keep my eyes covered from the wind; I’d heard that it was possible to have your eyelids freeze shut from your own tears freezing on the eyelashes, and was in no hurry to experience that. It was already cold and windy enough that frostbite was a serious risk, and while I could heal it with some Breath, as my mother would say, a whistle of prevention was worth a cantata of cure.

As I finished suiting up, I looked in the mirror. I was still new enough at this that I wasn’t certain that I’d gotten it right without checking. While it could get cold in the autumn and spring, it was nothing like the blasting cold winds coming from the south now, and during the summer, the usual clothing was more designed around linens that would cool the skin and protect against the unending sun. Lots of billowing shirts, skirts, and pants, sandals, and wide hats. The winter outfit was still novel, if not new, and I wasn’t taking any chances.

After checking myself over in the mirror, I nodded, closed the inner door, and opened the outer.

It was cold.

I knew to expect that, but still.

The sky overhead was speckled with stars and clouds, even as the Night-Light glowed in the dark; snow piled in drifts alongside the buildings, even though they were built to channel the winds as they went north to south. I shifted my shoulders uncomfortably; my braid was lying between my shirts and the coat, and it felt caught and tangled between the fabrics, which were already binding in ways I wasn’t yet used to.

Sighing, I started off down the street, making little shifts of my head and shoulders as I tried to dislodge my hair and let it lie naturally. I probably looked pretty silly, what with my shoulders hunched up and jerking my head and shoulders in weird ways, but there was no one around that I could see.

Thankfully.

I got to the ironworks just as the braid cleared whatever obstruction was keeping it from hanging right, of course.

Sighing again, I pulled off my coat and other cold weather gear, hung them, and started on my shift. It was time to focus on my job and my own projects, and put distractions out of mind.

#

Lady Fiaswith of House Rechneesse

With a deep, invigorating sigh, the kind of sigh that came from relief at an unexpected rescue, Fia stretched herself out, feeling and hearing her joints crackle and pop in sequence. It was the first time she’d been able to stretch in far, far too long, but even with her newfound freedom, she couldn’t resist giving a shuddering look back at the trunk she’d been in for all that time. Refusing to let that nightmare color her thoughts too much—she knew that it would make an appearance in her nightmares later, and she’d attend to it then—she looked up at the cloaked figure who was busy stripping the dead man in the lee of the wagon.

“Thank you,” she said, infusing her voice with every bit of heartfelt gratitude that she could.

The figure nodded and rose, holding up the man’s cloak for Fia. “Here. You’ll need this.” The voice coming out from behind the scarf was feminine, with a Dormelion accent. From Kasmenarta itself, if she didn’t miss her guess. Interesting.

Taking the offered garment, Fia examined it. It had just a few bloodstains discoloring it, the blood rapidly freezing in the chill. “Thanks.” She threw the cloak over her bare shoulders. “I’ve survived worse, but still not fun. How did you know that I’d be in there?”

“You wouldn’t believe me. But I had to help.”

Nodding, Fia took in the figure; she had a bow and quiver slung over a heavy winter cloak, with a rucksack dangling underneath the cloak, and was working at unlacing the body’s boots. “Well, I appreciate it, more than I can say.”

The figure nodded as the laces came undone. “Here. You’ll need these too. Be stupid if I rescued you from that trunk and you got frostbite.”

Fia shook her head, feeling her joints ache despite her earlier stretches. In the back of her mind, she could hear the murmuring growing softer and softer, but she ignored it. It was hardly new, and it had been her constant companion while she’d been in the trunk. “Indeed. I appreciate that too. So, was the rescue entirely out of the goodness of your heart?”

“No. But you knew that, didn’t you?” One boot, and then the other, was tossed to Fia by the other woman. “Here. I’ll work on those coats next, but they got a bit messed up.”

“I also doubt that they’d fit me properly,” Fia said, roughly shoving her feet into the boots before holding her arms out as if for presentation; she was taller than both of the dead men, and with broader biceps and a much bigger chest. Aside from the cloak and boots, the only things she had on were the bloodstained sleeveless shirt and lounging pants she’d been ambushed in. “Better not waste time on them. It won’t be fun, but I’ll deal until I… we?, get to a town and I can buy or steal something that fits. I don’t want to be slowed down by something that’ll bind me up.”

The figure nodded. “All right then.” Whoever she was, she didn’t question the fact that Fia had no serious problems with the extreme cold and wind… but given what she’d already done, Fia knew that this woman knew some of her secrets.

Well, if this woman was her enemy, she damn well would have left her in that trunk. So for now, she was going to treat the other woman as an ally, even if her motivations were unknown. Which meant that pragmatic questions came next.

“Any weapons?” she asked after she got the laces tied.

“Yes, a sword and this one had a crossbow. About thirty bolts.”

“I’ll take both, if that’s all right with you.”

“It is. I have enough with me.”

Fia nodded and took the weapons, belting them on, and examining the carriage as she did so. It had two shaggy horses hitched to it, both of them standing in their harnesses, snow building up around their manes. The carriage itself was a practical affair for traveling in winter. It had ski runners, its wheels stowed in brackets on the side, and was loaded with fodder for the horses and supplies for the men.

And the trunk.

She looked away.

“Pragmatically,” she said, forcing her voice to be even, “we should take the carriage to the nearest town and see what we can get there.”

“I hear a ‘but’ in there.”

“But. I think you’ll understand if I really don’t want to.”

“Oh, believe me, I understand. Fortunately, the town of Rhaanbach is right nearby, maybe a mile or two down that way,” the other woman said, pointing down the snow-covered road.

“Not familiar with the place,” Fia said, checking the crossbow’s action; it was well-oiled, but the cold had made it gum up a bit. She worked it a few times just to make sure that would release the bolt when she pulled the trigger, and then hung it across her back from the strap.

“Medium industrial town, specializes in glass and ironworks. We’re in the duchy of Hoochlicht, if that helps.”

Fia frowned and nodded. She was a bit far from…

From home.

That thought gave her pause. Home really was where the heart was, wasn’t it?

She pushed the thought away, and turned to the figure. “Got a name? Thinking ‘you’ all the time isn’t terribly helpful.”

With a crinkle of a smile behind her scarf, the other woman said, “Yufemya.”

“Ah, so I can go by ‘You’ for short?”

“Ha! If you want.”

Fia went around to the horses, and started unbuckling their harnesses. “Well, it’ll make calling out in a fight easier. ‘Hey, Yu!’”

Yufemya scoffed. “I’m going to remember that one.”

“I hope so! Mind you, I’m choosing to try to laugh right now.”

Yufemya glanced at the trunk and then back to Fia. “Understandable.”

With the harnesses unbuckled, Fia considered the supplies in the cart. Travel in winter was harsh and hard; while there were waystations where a traveler with deep pockets or the correct writ of passage could resupply and get a warm place to rest, they were primarily for the routes between the major cities. This area was definitely off the beaten path in winter, both literally and metaphorically. In summer, the area would undoubtedly be a hub of activity, with canal boats laden with cargo coming in and out of the town, and travelers on the move.

But with the sun having set and the Night-Light high in the sky, the only things moving were the trees as the wind whipped through their needles or bare branches.

She shivered from the cold; she could feel her body trying to warm itself, and numbness at her extremities went in and out like waves at the beach. The whispering swelled and receded in time, almost like the surf.

“What should we do with the cart?” she asked. Those supplies would come in handy…

“I’m not sure,” Yufemya said. “Unless you’ve changed your mind on driving it into town?”

Fia sighed. “We’d look like bandits.”

“Probably.”

“Well, not a first time for me.” She eyed the two horses and sighed. “Can you buckle them back in while I deal with these two?” she asked as she indicated the two bodies with her thumb.

“Certainly.”

“But first…” Fia went over to the cart, and with a shudder, pulled the trunk off of the back. Holding the heavy wood and leather with just her fingertips, she heaved, throwing it into the ditch next to the road.

Grabbing some tinder from the cart’s supplies, she then made her way down to the trunk, trying not to grimace at the snow brushing against her legs. Throwing the tinder into it, she eyed the trunk for a long moment, fighting down nausea and bile from her empty stomach.

Then, gathering her Will, she hummed a pitch, preparing to cast a spell from her limited repertoire, one she knew exquisitely well from her time at sea.

But… bigger this time.

Shifting into a sharp whistle, she grimaced as she pursed her lips. This was going to hurt—but it would be worth it.

The bolt of lightning formed from her Breath burst from her mouth, massively larger than the usual small spark someone would use to light a lamp or a black-powder charge. It seared her lips, which healed almost instantly, and ignited the tinder and the trunk with brutal efficiency.

As her place of imprisonment burned in the ditch, Fia turned back to Yufemya. “Now let me deal with those two. I’ll be nicer to them than what they planned on doing with me.”

Yufemya nodded and continued checking over the horses and their tack.

#

Raavi ava Laargan

Having finished my shift hours, I went through the main supply warehouse, looking for some odd bits that I could use. I’d have them deducted from my pay, of course, but the cost wasn’t too onerous. And once I had them, I’d be able to finish my project!

Passing the oilsap barrels, stacked high up to the ceiling, I hummed a little tune that my mother liked to sing as she made her way around the house; nothing magical or anything, but just a pleasant tune. It was about a young man and a girl he fancied, and the two of them trading riddles and answers back and forth as they flirted.

“Girl, I want to ask your mind,

The more you take and make,

the more you leave behind.

What am I?”

I went a bit falsetto for the next verse, as the girl answered.

“Ah, foolish boy, you think me naive?

Walk along we make,

With a path we take,

Footsteps behind we leave.”

I continued to sing as I filled my satchel with bits and pieces that I needed; some more rope, a large block of wax, some large nails…

I was finished by the third chorus, and continued to hum the tune as I made my way back down to the main floor of the ironworks. As a little boy, I’d always loved the cleverness of the riddles, and now the whole thing was etched in my head. And I was glad I had the space to sing it alone. I’d been thinking about singing it… earlier, but now I didn’t dare.

Reaching the ironworks, I made a note in the log about what I had taken and their costs, and then got that approved by the shift forewoman, all of which took only a few minutes. She knew what I was up to, and by now she was just giving my bag a quick glance over.

Then it was time to suit back up for the walk back to my house. By the next time I slept, I’d be ready.

#

Lady Fiaswith of House Rechneesse

Fia took a deep breath as the town came into view. About a tenth of the buildings glittered with light in the winter darkness, and even with the snow obscuring some of the lines and curves, the Kalltii fondness for natural-looking curves in their architecture was apparent. From here, the town looked like waves breaking against the shore, and she knew that inside it would be decorated to within an inch of its collective life.

But for now, the town represented a place where she could get supplies and recover. She had a lot of work ahead of her, she knew it. But she wasn’t dead, nor destined any longer for an anonymous grave, and for now, that was enough.

Then her eyes narrowed as she saw motion against the snow.

Lots of motion.

“Do you see that?” she asked Yufemya, pointing.

Yufemya peered into the distance and nodded curtly. “I do.”

Wishing she had a spyglass, Fia squinted… and then drew in a short, sharp breath before swearing. She hopped out of the cart, carrying her ‘new’ sword with her, and started to run through the snow. “Come on!”

“Coming! Hya!”

As Yufemya urged the horses on behind her, Fia focused on running as quickly as she could towards the sleeping town.

The cart behind her, the two horses reluctantly picking up speed, Fia focused on what she’d seen, as details became more and more apparent.

A mass of figures moving through the darkness, carrying weapons.

#

Raavi ava Laargan

Making my way back through the empty streets, I tried to focus on my project, and how amazing and awesome it would be once I completed it. I’d first seen the design in a travelogue over a year before, talking about the Slaekkaruune tribes to the south. I’d taken the idea and run with it, and I hoped that it would work. It should! All of my experiments had shown that it should, and while I hadn’t been able to resist adding my own refinements to the idea, the basic concept was sound.

And soon I would be able to test it.

Of course, I also wanted to show it off, but to who? Zoy?

That thought brought back what the dice had told me when I’d woken, and I grimaced behind my scarf.

Maybe? She seemed like the kind of person who would enjoy it… but did I want to?

Well, first I had to finish it, and then I’d be able to consider that question.

A gust of wind blew a wave of snow into my face, and I grimaced, brushing the snow grains out of the way as best I could. My bag clattered as I did so, a few of my supplies bumping against each other, and the sound echoed weirdly. But sound had been weird all winter, with snow and ice absorbing or reflecting sound in strange ways.

Something about it nagged me, though, and I looked around. I could have sworn that I was hearing footsteps crunching through the snow—but it was audible enough that it had to be snow falling from one of the roofs. There just weren’t that many people awake to be making that much sound—

I turned enough to look down one of the side-streets, and screamed.

---

Previous | Imprudent | Next