Book IV: Chapter 3 | Capria

"Did giants build this work?" Pomponianus asked as their wooden ship approached a large, metallic and glass structure with the smiling face of a woman with cat ears, a large head, small body, and massive eyes.

"Her head was larger than the ship!" exclaimed Barbara. The idol of the pirates' God loomed over them all as they approached the building.

"No," said Azaz, sitting on the railing, one foot protruding, covered in calluses and bandages, treated as best as possible by Pliny. "Not giants, nor gods. This was built by the great hero in honor of his lover, for her pleasure."

"And now," asked Pliny, "it serves for the pleasure of their descendants at the misery of ours?"

As Azaz spoke, Alexander turned to Pomponianus.

"Was there any structure like this in your world?" he asked.

Pomponianus shook his head. "The emperor was working on a structure like this, a great arena of incomparable size. It was not finished by the time we left, but I saw traces of it. But I'll say, even at its height, it wouldn't compare to this."

A chill ran down Barbara's spine. "If they're unfamiliar with this, is this really…?" She turned to Pliny. "Are we sure we should do this?"

"We need to," Pliny said. "We need to establish relations. We have their hostages. We can offer them back in good faith, introduce ourselves, and begin to construct our city. We need materials, and they seem to be ones to offer them. But at the very least, we need safe passage in their waters."

Alexander added, "We beat them before; we can beat them again. We can beat them many times, but at a certain point, we can't count on their incompetence forever. They will learn how to counter us, and there are only so many of our forces. I have no interest in losing any of you to a random raid of pirates. I'm certain your father feels the same."

Pomponianus nodded. "We need the resources. We need the favor of the powers in the area. Perhaps they can get us in contact with the ruler of this realm. Perhaps we can do jobs for her."

"You wouldn't seriously consider working for them," Barbara said, looking concerned at the sorry state of Azaz.

"Up to a certain point, there are roles that we can fulfill," Pliny responded. "When Pompey eliminated the pirates, he offered a gentle hand for those who abandoned their ways, and the crucifix for those who did not. When we have the authority to do so, we will offer a similar solution to him."

At this, they turned to the now bound and gagged figure whom they descended below decks to meet. They ungagged him.

"You're the one they call Mimi?" Pliny asked.

"Yes, new boss," Mimi said in deference, perhaps hoping that would earn her favor. "You have a lot of pretty boys in this area, in your ship, if you don't mind me saying so."

"I do mind. Will you introduce us to your queen?"

"Yeah, we'll take you to the psychoanalyst. I'm sure my name is looking at my... Now, what was it that we agreed to do? I'm going to go up to the front gate and I will tell the queen that you have the rest of the crew imprisoned and are willing to release them in exchange for an audience."

Pliny nodded. "I'm returning you now. We will wait outside the harbor. You will go speak to your queen."

"Now? Yes, new boss, but how am I going to get over? Go to my boss? If you left our ship in the waters and you're not going to drop me off, are you going to drop me off? Is there a boat coming?"

The loud screech of a cat was heard as she was thrown into the waters.

"Do we actually know if she can swim?" Pomponianus suddenly asked Alexander.

Alexander shrugged. "Well, they wouldn't be very good pirates if they couldn't."

They watched the cat emerge her head from the water and begin paddling towards the palace.

They're watching the cat sailor swim to the castle under the watchful eye of the Great Guardian who looms over the large, rusted metal building.

Barbara points to some of the trees outside the main building and asks, "Are those trees not real? Why are there fake palm trees next to real ones?"

The Skiaped answers, "The great God hero considered the palm tree and the beach to be a symbol of pleasure. Thus, he assigned that to show what this building was for—for whose pleasure."

Pliny asks again, "For his and his beloved's? How was a great man like this able to build such a building just for the pleasure of his close friends?"

The Skiaped replies, "Long ago, it is said that the great hero destroyed the monster with a vast amount of magical power. It was the power to shape objects, shape the terrain, even shape people, such as myself."

"As you look for me, I… me," Pliny is confused and says, "What are you saying? You're a Skiapet, are you not? These are just natural to certain parts of the realm."

"No, no, no," he said. "I am the descendant of the accursed ones. We were those humans who allied with the Dark One. We were his cavalry officers, according to legend. But long ago, as punishment for our collaboration with the Dark Lord, after his defeat, the great hero punished us by merging our feet together so that we could never ride horses again. Our lands became hot deserts, and so we hopped around the sand on one foot from city to city. But all of that was long ago, and who's to say it's true?"

Companions asks, "If that's where you're from, why are you here in this area?"

"I was a merchant originally. I would move across the mountain passes to the south and bring the valuables of my people: our sand, our leather, our gems. In exchange, I would bring home water and dried foods and the sacred objects and the sacred script."

Pliny then asks, "Your valuables? What do you produce in the deserts?"

"We're known for our desert pearls and our desert crystals. We can gain many scrip from harvesting those. Additionally, we at times will find the remnants of the Dark Lord's skeletons and his army. Some of those still have magic in them and so carry with them power. These can be sold in the cities for a high price."

Pliny strokes his beard as he thinks about this. "And how much would one of these bones be worth in gold?"

The Skiaped looks at him quizzically, his sun-worn face and wrinkles and gray beard masking almost childlike curiosity. "Gold, sir? Gold is just another trade good, but the bones are worth at least 100 scrip. The paper is the value."

Curious, Pliny looks out again. He sees the large metal gate has been rolled up, and a figure has entered the city. "I guess we'll find out."

Suddenly, a loud voice can be heard. It's sharp, it rings, and it has a fade and a fizz to it, as if speaking over the wind. It is warped, distorted, but still clear.

"Come forward, Pliny ne. I, Psychotome, nya will hear you."