The Rifts Between Us

From what I understood of the original plan, we were supposed to swap out the typhins currently working in the mines with part of our current party after sealing the deal, then split that new group into two groups: a larger one to collect resources and build new wells to replace Outpost 66, and a smaller one headed by Caramine to negotiate with Azzerium and see off Lotus to Etherport. But it was obvious that no one was thinking about that plan.

“Unfortunately, it needed to be done to secure the partnership,” Caramine said, facing the silent circle of typhins before her, their silent faces aglow in the roiling light of the bonfire. “Aleare is under no danger of losing his livelihood in Moonlight.”

Dozens of eyes shifted uncomfortably towards Aleare as he tried to straighten his back.

“Caramine, leader,” Aleare said, wrapped in bandages, “I understand the business stakes. I was by your side when you eliminated Azzerium. What I no longer trust, Caramine, is your own commitment to honesty.”

Merlum cleared his throat. Beside between us, Remme stared at Caramine with fear in his eyes. He had probably never seen someone get whipped before. I haven’t, either. I hugged my knees closer to my chest and over the hollow knot inside my stomach.

Back home in Apple Valley, we punished wrongdoers by shunning, and in extreme cases banishment from their village. Shame was painful enough. Why would anyone need to parade someone’s shame in front of others? I remembered the crowd at Ardesburg, how quickly their initial confusion and curiosity got replaced with egging, like some kind of perverse catharticism. Something about pain dealt for the sake of pain, pain meant to induce gratification in the eyes of onlookers, felt grotesque.

Caramine closed her eyes and began speaking again gingerly. “I understand. It is deeply unfortunate that honesty to one party is libelous to another. But your criticism is taken. I will brainstorm ways to make our warier customers see past their suspicions and into our reality.”

Aleare cleared his throat. “Caramine, you have done a lot on your own. I appreciate it. You insist that we all get rest during the day, and briefly again at night, while you work unGaian hours to strategize. But next time, I would appreciate it if you can let more of us in on your brainstorming.”

With that, he left the group, slinking back into the shadows between carriages.

“He is quite upset,” Merlum observed, leaning over towards Lotus and me. “He usually just goes along with the majority’s wishes. Always said that others knew better, are more trained in issues of governance, such and such. I’ve never seen him quite like this.”

Eventually, another typhin spoke. “I think our current governance structure is fine. If Aleare had an issue with our prioritization of Ardesburg as a partner, he had ample chance to bring this up in our meetings seasons ago.”

“I believe Aleare has no issues with prioritizing Ardesburg, but rather with what it means to have such prioritization,” Razzel argued. “I think he did not expect his reputation among our partners to be on the chopping block, in the name of winning the partnership. That, in my opinion, was his naivety. Individual honor is one of the least worthwhile things to preserve in the name of the survival of the collective.”

“My apologies, Razzel, but this was not done in the name of survival,” Merlum interjected. “Raiding Tundra was for survival. The Ardesburg deal, while valuable, is not strictly necessary for us to live another day. Furthermore, what’s at stake is more than just individual reputation. It is our integrity as Moonlight and our ability to trust leadership. If the so-called most trustworthy band of the Aurum Desert cannot trust our own leader to defend us, I think we would be in far more danger in terms of survival in the long run, than if we simply failed to secure the contract.”

“What we know of each other behind closed doors has and should have nothing to do with business,” Razzel shot back. “The only things that can be considered objective reality when dealing with anyone are those written down and signed in blood. And the only form of trust we can lean on is the money and security to be earned from the contract. If there is no way to prove Aleare’s innocence to the humans, then so be it. We bear the consequences.”

Merlum growled in frustration, but Caramine butted in. “I see that tensions are high at this moment. We agreed earlier to re-discuss our split at dawn after some hunting and rest. Let us stick with that.”

The typhins grumbled, but got up and returned to their carriages. An owl hooted into the night, blissfully unaware of the struggles of thinking people.

I found myself struggling to sleep that night despite how long I’ve been awake. I kept hearing Aleare’s screams, unlike anything I’d ever heard before, waking me up from bouts of rest. As the dawn neared, I suddenly realized that Lotus and I might not see Caramine again, depending on how the next meeting shook out. There was still one thing I needed to ask her.

I put on my crutch and waddled over the Caramine’s carriage.

“Come in, Ray,” she said, before I had said anything.

With a lot of effort, I scooted myself into the carriage. It was taller than my own. Then I looked at Caramine, who sat hunched over a desk built into the wagon itself.

“What would you like to talk about?” She asked.

“I wanted to ask about the demon,” I said.

Caramine stayed silent.

“What do you know about the demon of Hyacinth?”

The typhin looked away before responding with her own question. “When you say you wanted to slay the demon of Hyacinth. Why is that?”

I’m not sure what this had to do with the information she had about the demon, but I answered regardless. “The demon killed my parents. And many of our villagers, for over a century. It causes blizzards that kill our crops and kill our people. I wanted to avenge them.”

Caramine nodded slowly, as if trying to square that information with whatever she already knew. “Do you still want to do that?”

I opened my mouth to respond yes, of course, why wouldn’t I? But I suddenly realized that those words felt empty. Lotus was right. I wanted to get over it, this thing that I felt like was the thing everyone wanted me to do, and that was not a real reason.

So I took a deep breath and answered honestly. “I don’t know.”

Caramine sighed. “As you suspect, I do know things about the demon of Hyacinth. Not very many things, but more than you. But take it as my genuine opinion that I don’t think I should tell you until you know what you want to do with the demon.”

What kind of answer was that? “Why?” I asked.

“Because I’m afraid it’ll only make your decisions going forward even more confusing,” Caramine replied.

I saw the bags under her eyes, and I knew she, too, had gotten no sleep. Maybe for days at this point. I decided not to press any further, and returned to my carriage.

The meeting about the split that afternoon was cut and dry. No one mentioned the whipping or its aftermath, least of all Aleare himself, whose reticence loomed over the band like fog against the mountainside. Merlum told me at the beginning of that meeting that Aleare was already slated to be part of the bigger group, the one not headed by Caramine. And that he didn’t want to discuss anything any further.

So we kept the original plan. Lotus and I would stay with Caramine’s group until we dropped off Lotus at Etherport, and I would be dropped off based on some other plan going forward.

“I hope this split also allots us valuable time to reflect on yesterday’s events,” Caramine concluded. “After we reconvene in four weeks, I wish to address this directly once more. May we reach an amicable agreement.”

We cleaned up our camp, packed our belongings, and headed our separate ways into the dusk.

In the middle of the night of the second day of travels, I woke up before the sun rose and looked outside. In the far distance, I saw what looked to be tents among the dunes. So many tents, patched together from the frames and painted canvases of many carriages, reinforced with steel stripped from wagon wheels. As we got closer, I saw a couple of taller stone buildings glistened like white pearls in the night’s sea of sand. Fenced areas jutted out from the edges of the settlements the same way I imagined harbors stuck out of cities. Within those fences, dozens of desert steeds roamed, their manes catching the gold of the first rays of dawn.

“Julia, this is insane,” Lotus marveled. “Caramine said they’re all settled, right? I had no idea that there were so many settled typhins. I thought all typhins were nomadic. You remember that, right?”

“I don’t remember,” I said, staring at the tents. Lotus harumphed gently.

A pair of sentinels sat lazily near a checkpoint, marked with a prominent gate welcoming travelers to the oasis, next to a cramped stone box barely bigger than my outhouse back home. As we approached, one typhin stuck a white and yellow flag in front of the road, and our horses skidded to a stop right past the gate.

“Which band comes here?” One of the guards asked.

“We are of Moonlight. We are looking to stay over-day at the accommodations,” Caramine replied.

I heard a commotion inside the box, and another typhin burst out from the box’s doorway. His eyes darted among the four wagons of our minimal party and narrowed, and then he disappeared back behind the doorway as suddenly as he came.

“Is something the matter?” Caramine asked.

“No. Apologies for our lack of professionalism just then,” the guard replied. Then he turned to face Caramine. “As I’m sure you know, many of us are aware of your…history with Azzerium. As a result, I momentarily breached our standards of neutrality and decency. What are the reasons and duration of your stay? We need this for recordkeeping purposes. Do you consent?”

“Do what you must. We are here to rest in our travels north, and to discuss some recent events with Azzerium herself,” Caramine answered.

“Traveling north, going—to discuss some recent events with Azzerium herself?!” The typhin exclaimed, before collecting himself. “Apologies again. You are welcome. I’ll get a headcount, and then the stable fellows will lead you to where the horses shall board.”

The staff began walking down the line of carriages, peeking inside each carriage and counting our numbers. When one of them reached my wagon, he froze. Shock turned to confusion turned to internal bartering written all over his face, as if our being humans contradicted everything he knew about Caramine.

“Hey! I don’t appreciate you staring at us like that,” Lotus quipped.

The typhin nodded before muttering something under his breath and slipping back out through the flaps of the wagon entrance.

After the headcount and inspection, we were instructed to wait until two younger typhins arrived to guide us to the stables. The stables were apparently partitioned into four parts, roughly based on cardinal direction relative to the center of the oasis. As we neared section A to the south, one of the stable hands stopped us in our tracks.

“We need to confirm where you’d be living before we commit your horses,” she explained. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She slipped away into the winding path.

“Probably also asking Azzerium whether they want to let us stay at all,” Razzel huffed from the wagon behind ours. “Call it my third eye, but these underlings are hiding something. All that song and dance from Azzerium about openness to and for all, my arse.”

“It’s probably just a little surprising for them. We did remove her from the band,” Merlum said.

“Because she was supposedly too principled to think her way out of a shallow dune,” Razzel snapped. “I’ll see how principled she manages to remain soon.”

The stable hand returned, and behind her followed two older typhins: one lanky, silver-spotted man and one very tall, chubby woman. One of the horses twitched and whinnied nervously. The pair walked past each of our carriages, all the way to the front of the caravan, where they stopped right outside of Caramine’s wagon.

“Fancy seeing you here, Caramine,” the woman said.