Chương 648: Day Six Hundred And Forty-Six

Dear Diary, Just because I probably don't mention it enough, my kids are awesome. I know, I know, everybody knows Isnomi is The Menace and possibly the most terrifying Mor on the planet inclusive of her Mama and Grandmama. Ria's the most earnest, studious hardworking kid I've ever personally known. Maze is smart and surprisingly good at being stealthy. Lindsey is quiet and observant, Alex wants to be a hero, and Daya is surprisingly creative. David is just an awesome little kid, although I feel kinda bad for her.

She spent so much time focused on tryna be herself that she's, I dunno, not really caught up with the others on anything else about herself. But she's learning and cheerful and such a precious cinnamon roll. But here's the thing; I don't think they're awesome because of what they can do. I think they're awesome by what they choose to do. So yeah, got home last night as Karen told me she was gonna be meeting with the 'Mansa of Compton', which kinda messed with my head a little. Uh, ladies?

I got a burst of all five of my ladies focused on me. Whereabouts is Compton? You don't know? Asked Tallulah. To her credit, she sounded confused, not mocking. Yeah, only Compton I know about is on the other coast. I was almost certain that was correct. Look, I mentioned it before; history, literature, video games. Geography is not, you'll notice, on that list. In Europa? Now Saffron sounded a little confused. Nah. I mean the west coast of Atlantis.

That got me the mental equivalent of five women all staring at me blinking slowly. Okay, three of them doing that, plus Siobhan radiating vague confusion and Marie just relieved her stomach had settled. Finally Karen broke the mental silence with, how would we get the Seeking Tentacle there? Yeah, that's kinda why I figured that wasn't where you're at. Which is where again? On the coast to the south of us, approximately one third of the way to Jackville. Thanks, Kitten. Sorry to bother you, ladies.

Karen, you want me there in the morning? Observing, please. You got it. Sleep well. She giggled into my brain and replied, oh, I will. Didn't really need to think about that, because she sounded just the right kind of happy. Right then I realized that maybe that was what made me the odd woman out among the powerful deities; I didn't care so much about my ladies or any of my other Worshippers blowing smoke up my ass at just the right pressure, temperature, and angle so much as them being happy.

Happy with themselves, happy with their lives, happy with each other. Also realized right then that maybe what I wanted deep down, and might never really believe even if I had it, was for them to be happy with me. Still, can't be too unhappy with awesome kids like mine. Stepped right into the dining room with a big crock full of stew, went to snag some bowls, and the girls all jumped into action, the bigger four dashing for the kitchen while Isnomi, Daya, and David intercepted me.

"Sid, Mama, sid. Ead."

"I can't eat stew without a bowl, Menace."

"We god you. Sid!" I rolled my eyes, smiled, and sat collapsed into the one of me sitting with Marie on my lap. The girls brought in the soup bowls and spoons, and we got to eating. When we finished, the girls pounced on us again, Menace pointing at the ceiling and saying, "ub! Ub to da Baff!"

"It's okay, papa, we'll clean up!" Maze grinned at me. So I stepped the four of us up to the showers, where we washed up, then got into the tub for a soak. The girls joined us maybe twenty minutes later, kitchen grime all over them. The four of us praised them for all their hard work even as we hid giggles about how absolutely filthy they were after cleaning up the dishes.

When we all got to the bedroom and saw all the trays on the floor filled with hardtack and jerky, all of it still radiating heat from the oven, I kinda melted. Marie definitely did, her purrs echoing through the room as the girls glommed onto her. Menace whispered, "we made dis for you, Mawa." No sneaking off to the Bedroom tonight. None of us wanted to be out of hugging range of our adorable, thoughtful girls.

Dreamt of the surface of my Maw vibrating with Marie's ongoing avalanche of a purr, as did all my other ladies. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. In the morning, I watched through Karen's eyes as she exited the Seeking Tentacle. From the vantage of the top of the ramp down to the dock, she looked out over the assembled ships. Here and there I saw Phileo and New Amsterdam ships, looking like stuff straight out of the grade school Mayflower era.

The Seeking Tentacle showed a lot of the same heritage, only somehow both far more massive and far sleeker than any of them. A few Norfolk ships sat at the docks as well. The rest all reminded me a little of those, but equally clearly not the same. They had the same single mast, but some of them were vastly longer. A few others looked just like oversized rowboats; some of those didn't have a mast at all, although in one case I saw the crew raising a mast as they departed.

Finally, some less weathered looking ships seemed almost an amalgamation of the two designs; long and thin like skinny Viking ships, but with flat asses and seats for multiple rowers along the sides. Beyond the docks stood the oddest City I'd seen yet. Where all the Cities I'd seen so far except Newark had been mostly stone, this place was mostly wood. Not just wood, but wooden buildings eerily similar in general shape to the houses from Grandmother's Village.

The streets were paved with gray stone like we used for buildings in Phileo, but unlike Phileo, where the buildings filled any available space that wasn't clearly designated as a 'park' of some kind, here the buildings had trees growing around them; in a couple cases even growing up through holes in the roof. Beyond the city, the one taller building they had loomed in the distance, and it took Karen a bit of looking before I realized what it was.

A sprawling palace made out of what looked to be sandstone, with blunt marble pyramids looming out of it. As she led her small entourage, just herself and two other Cadets, to the end of the docks, a dark skinned guy in a fancy dashiki strode up, hand extended.

"Ambassador Smith. You are ready to meet with the Mansa, I presume?" She nodded and pressed her hand to his.

"Minister Mamadou. Are the Mansa and Yakky still available to meet today?" He nodded.

"They are, although I must apologize, some minor matters have come up which will delay the meeting until later in the day. So I have been sent to escort you to the palace, as well as to give you a tour of our fair City, should you be willing." Karen nodded.

"Of course, Minister. Lead on." Ah, fuck. Is this another of those political making us wait things? I'm afraid so, my Goddess. Still, they've been very polite about it, and it will be interesting to see what they show us. Better you than me. Remind me to give you something nice for putting up with all this shit. As my Goddess commands. So Karen spent the rest of the day following Mamadou around, getting the grand tour of Compton.

The first thing I noticed was that the dark skinned dude did not stand out a whole lot. While there were a few Dan looking guys near the waterfront, and some of the folks had the general coloration of the kind of Bag who worked outdoors, almost everybody either had the kind of dark skin and nappy hair I'd last seen on Andre Lands or the kind of coppery undertone and bone straight black hair the folks in Grandmother's Village had. Okay, a fair number were somewhere in between. A sudden pang of homesickness hit me.

Those folks weren't Taino, weren't ex-slaves, but they sure as shit had the same African Atlantean mix that I remembered from PR. Okay, PR had Native Americans, not Atlanteans, but my point still stands. Is all well, Goddess? Yeah, I'm good. I got my shit together and got back to looking. The Minister got Karen and her two wingmen some street food. Reminded me a little of bodega food from back in Camden. Same spices, different proportions. Tasted... weird. Wrong, but still good, if that makes any sense.

The Minister showed her a couple drydocks that looked a little primitive to me, but one of them had one of those weird not-quite-longboat, not-quite-rowboats under construction. The other had three of the big rowboat things going together. When we got a few blocks inland, just beyond the docks and the maritime businesses, we hit the warehouses. I got another dose of fuckin' nostalgia, this time for my old Camden instead of PR though. The awful, pungent reek of fermenting cocoa beans.

I remembered that smell from the times I'd go fuck around on the New Jersey; when the wind came from the east, the warehouses full of beans overwhelmed even the metal and oil smell of the big ship. There wasn't much wind here, but the warehouses obviously had a shit ton of beans in them.

"Pardon, but... what's in these warehouses?" Karen asked. The Minister put a hand to his mouth, smiling.

"A trade secret of Compton, Ambassador." Cocoa. The beans you make chocolate out of. Karen took the cue beautifully. She sniffed at the air, tilted her head, and whispered, "I'd swear it smells of cocoa?"

"Ah, but to grow or harvest those beans would be a deep offense to the great Cities of the south. So of course we do not, and thus these warehouses could not possibly be full of those beans."

"Obviously." Karen smiled back at him, nodding. Fuck it, if the big black market in this world was for chocolate, that beat the ever loving fuck out of cocaine any day of the week. The Minister led Karen on a long and winding path toward the palace at the center of town. Around midday, they stopped at a restaurant. I think it was a restaurant, anyhow.

Might have just been a really nice house, but there were quite a few people eating, and the delegation and Minister got served the same way I remembered from a Moroccan restaurant some dude took me on once on one of the few dates I'd been on. I think it was Moroccan, anyhow. One of those where there were big plates in the center, and bread-ish stuff to dip into them to get food. The spice palate was totally weird, but again, pretty good.

We saw a barracks where the Compton equivalent of Heroes or troops were trained, although that wasn't what the Minister showed us. We just happened to wander in sight of men training with a variety of weapons when he brought us past a foundry where tools were made. A lot of the 'tour' was like that. Ostensibly showing us something obviously economic, while something that hinted at military power lay right nearby in plain sight. Eventually, after a day touring the City, they came to the palace.

The guard at the gate leaned in to say something to the Minister, who turned, a look of embarrassment on his face. Good enough I couldn't tell if he meant it or it was part of an act.

"Apologies, Ambassador, but it appears the Mansa and the Yakky are dealing with yet another issue. They will be ready to receive you shortly, however. As an apology, they ask if you would share the evening meal with them?"

"Of course, Minister. We would be honored." So glad I wasn't the one there.