Chương 92: 10. A Difference in Focus

Lady Baanu is more than happy to leave our excess supplies with the villagers, and Sir Draga gives his permission to unload several crates of preserved lizard meat, hides, and other miscellanea collected from the culling of embergaze basilisks. I still think it's backwards that Lady Baanu needs his permission at all, but the rangers have always been an odd organization, and who knows how much the world may have changed in two hundred years?

Self-propelled carriages, odd alchemical weapons, and magical tinctures are probably barely the beginning. While the village elder and Lady Baanu observe a few formalities to see us off, I join Sir Draga by the carriage.

"How did your investigation go?" I ask.

"Not as well as I'd like," he sighs.

"The only consistent description of the man is that he was 'well groomed' and he took his skiff antiringward months ago. About as cold as a lead can get, unfortunately."

"Do you think he may have repeated this stunt elsewhere?"

"Probably," Draga admits, "but I'm not about to stop at every village along the way to find out. The weapons are a better lead—but it's not mine to pursue, and I doubt it will go anywhere." I cock my head.

"Why not?" He grimaces.

"Because the maker's stamps are filed off, so there's no way to prove exactly where they came from. Every general is going to do a very serious and thorough investigation of their armories, and every general is going to report that nothing is amiss."

"They'd rather let someone continue arming and inciting rebels than admit fault?"

"Of course," he spits bitterly.

"Armies don't prevent rebellions, they just end them. I dare say most of the empire's military leaders would be pleased to have an uprising to fight against. It gives them a chance to distinguish themselves." I frown and scuff the ground with a foot—a decidedly unsatisfying action without hooves.

"That's a rather cynical outlook, isn't it?"

"I'd call it realistic," he argues.

"I can speak from experience with the military, but I've found that most things in life are uglier when seen up close. Be it armies, rangers, the church, or even the empire itself."

"That's treason and blasphemy," I remark, though I don't have the heart to muster up any real venom behind the words. He shrugs.

"I beg the Goddess' forgiveness, but if keeping my eyes open to reality makes me a sinner, then a sinner I will remain. Was life in the church a perfect paradise?"

"Well, no," I admit.

"The senior sisters from higher clans could be quite harsh in their lessons, but they only wanted to ensure that we did not sully the Goddess' names by misrepresenting her."

"Sure," Draga says casually, crossing his arms and leaning back against the carriage.

"And it was just a coincidence that it was always priestesses from higher clans chastising those from lower ones, right?"

"Should we not aspire to follow the example set forth by our noble betters?" I ask. He eyes me impassively for a moment, then sighs.

"Maybe. You didn't happen to get targeted for bullying more often, did you?"

"It wasn't bullying!" I protest.

"And it was my own fault for being so slow all the time."

"The most dangerous lies we tell are to ourselves," Draga quotes.

"For by shrouding ourselves in a false world, we hide ourselves from the Goddess' light." My eyes widen in surprise.

"You know the scriptures?!"

"Some," he says with a grin.

"Unlike the little lady over there—" he nods towards Lady Baanu "—I didn't have access to university libraries when I learned to read. But priestesses are always happy to recite the holy scriptures, even to a clanless man like me. I've always liked that one in particular." It's almost comforting to have someone recite scripture to me. Familiar, even if it's a bit weird coming from a man.

"You think I'm engaging in self-deception?" I ask. He shrugs.

"I'm not trying to accuse you of anything. Just sharing something that's helped me out a lot in life. Sometimes it helps to take a step back and look at things a second time."

"Perhaps..." I admit. It is a good lesson. Of course it is—it comes from the scriptures after all. I'm just not entirely sure how it applies to me at the moment.

"I'll pray on it," I tell him.

"Thank you for the advice."

"I hope you find your way, Miss Evelyn," he says, ducking his head.

"All of you. I can't imagine what it must be like, to be stuck in an unfamiliar world and an unfamiliar body. But I think that if it were me, I'd appreciate the fact that I don't have to face it alone." I try to suppress a scowl. There's little comfort to be had in the strangers I share this body with, but I don't wish to contradict Sir Draga.

"Thank you," I say instead.

"It has been... helpful, to have someone to talk to. Lady Baanu is intimidating, and the others with me are... strange."

"Talla? Intimidating?" Draga chuckles.

"In the heat of battle, maybe, but there's nothing less frightening than her sorry attempts to play the 'mighty noble lady.'""Well, I'm sorry if smug superiority doesn't come naturally," Lady Baanu interjects, returning from her business with the elder.

"Some of my family go out of their way to cultivate that image, you know. I've seen my sister practicing her sneer in the mirror." Draga coughs awkwardly, embarrassed to have been caught gossiping.

"I, ah, meant no offense."

"I know," Talla says with a cheeky grin.

"But if you want me to be intimidating, I can be." He looks at me sideways, and I have to hold myself back from laughing as he holds up his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, I take it back," he sighs.

"I think I prefer you as you are."

"Good, because I don't plan to change," she says, sweeping her hair back between her horns.

"Now, shall we get back on the road?" * Despite the eventful first day, our time on the road is mostly just boring. We fall into a routine of driving, resting the engine, and camping in the shade of the river oasis. We end up taking turns in front to do whatever we want. Maggie practices her magical control and feeds Nipper—there's not much training that can be done on the road, but she does her best—Violet keeps an eye on the engine, and I do my best to practice the Fa'aun language and teach Evie.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Evelyn isn't the most enthusiastic student, but she is trying to learn. Things have been going a bit better now that I've reduced my expectations to a grade one level. Talla is amused by how I describe grade school.

"It's interesting that your world splits things into grades rather than tiers," she comments as the clumsy vehicle trundles its way over the dirt road.

"A difference in focus?"

"Well, we didn't have the divine mechanism," I hedge.

"I don't think the difference in tier and grade has as much meaning for us. It's called different things in other countries, too."

"The nameless other countries that neighbor your nameless country of origin?" she prods. I huff and cross my arms.

"I'm sorry for my... [shoot], what's the word? [Amnesia]?"

"Amnesia," Talla offers in Fa'aun—though the literal translation is a compound word that's something like memory-sickness.

"It's impressive how broad your knowledge is." Coming from a polymath who didn't have the benefit of a worldwide communications network.

"Not really," I sigh.

"Our world is a lot more... uh, world... world-connected?"

"Global?"

"Global!" I nod.

"Thank you. Travel and communication is very easy. If they want to, anybody can access thousands of years of accumulated knowledge from across the entire planet." Talla whistles appreciatively.

"How enviable," she sighs.

"Even the university libraries aren't so comprehensive, despite their best efforts. I know the history of the empire, but very little from abroad." I look around at the sunbleached road and the empty savannah disappearing into the horizon.

"Who are your neighbors, anyway?" I ask.

"We've been driving for days, and this road is totally unused. What's so 'great' about it?"

"It's an aspirational name," Talla chuckles.

"And also a provocation. It's meant to be a connection to the blessed lands beyond the ringward mountains—the source of the Sagaa river. It's a vast and highly fertile place beneath the great wheel."

"Near the [equator]?" I ask, blinking. I'm not sure how to judge our latitude just from looking at the rings, but we've got to be pretty dang far north.

"Isn't that super far away?" Talla nods.

"It is. Weeks or months of travel. The great road is—or was—an ambitious project. The villages along the river were meant to grow into important outposts supplying travelers making pilgrimage to the blessed lands." I purse my lips—I think I might be able to guess where this is going.

"Let me guess—the people already living there weren't quite so enthusiastic about your empire creating that connection." She scratches her cheek.

"Erm, I'm not sure. They were, ah, not consulted as it were. There were, however, expeditions sent ahead to form colonies that were intended to build the road from the other side." Oh, I was a little off. Only a little, though.

"Of course they're colonialists," Violet grumbles.

"Hush, you," I chide her.

"I take it that they didn't hold up their end of the plan, then?"

"No," Talla says, frowning.

"Apparently the colonists decided that the blessings beneath the great wheel were better exploited for their own enrichment rather than that of the empire. There have been conflicts. Draga would know more—military history isn't my area of expertise." I gasp in mock surprise.

"Something Talla doesn't know?! Blood and acid, how can this be?" She reaches over and flicks my ear playfully.

"I never claimed to know everything. Your grasp of the language is getting better—you're even swearing in Fa'aun."

"That's immersion for you," I chuckle.

"It helps to have a, uh... natural understanding?" I wanted to say a built-in cheat sheet, but I wouldn't know where to begin. I'm slowly overcoming the language barrier, but it's still there. Evelyn has been a ton of help. Not only does having her with us mean that we don't need to break our brain with Maggie's spell, but during our lessons, she's reluctantly agreed to help me refine my grammar and pronunciation.

It's funny, Evie can't read or write, but she's really well spoken and even knows about some intricacies of the Fa'aun language that Talla doesn't. Speaking properly was something her educators really drilled into her, apparently.

"I suppose it would," Talla agrees. There's a natural lull in the conversation at this point, and I'm just debating letting Violet back in front to check on the engine when Talla hits me with a sneak attack.

"Have you thought about trying to learn some magic yourself?" she asks. I freeze, biting my lip as I try to gather my thoughts. When I first discovered that this world had magic, I was so excited about it. At the time, I was really grasping for anything to occupy my mind, or look forward to. It felt like all we had was stone walls, a fricking orgy of candles, and the constant creeping fear of death. When I actually found magic of my own it was... painful.

I don't envy Maggie, and I'm proud of Violet for branching out despite her initial skepticism, but me? I smile and shake my head.

"Not for me, thanks. Magic is... what's the word? [Neat], but too scary for me."

"But you agreed to incorporate it into your core class?" Talla points out.

"Sure. It's obviously our biggest advantage," I explain, looking away and fiddling with a stray lock of my hair.

"It would be silly of me to deny them magic just because I'm afraid of it."

"And you?" she asks.

"What about what you want, Allie?" I chuckle and lean back in my seat to stretch my arms—then immediately regret it when a bump almost sends me tumbling out the side. I cough to clear my throat after regaining my balance.

"I don't need levels or classes for what I want," I explain.

"I'm just happy to be out here, enjoying fresh air and sunlight. Good company, and maybe some more of that stingroot wine if we can get our hands on it. I just want to live my life." Talla hums thoughtfully, focusing her attention on the car's controls for a moment before responding.

"You sound like my sister. My oldest sister, specifically. As the second daughter of the family, she's content to do the bare minimum necessary to avoid shaming the clan." My smile falters slightly at that.

"Are you saying I'm... dang it, what's the word for [lazy]?"

"Lazy. No," she argues, shaking her head.

"And I don't think my sister is either. Just... lost? My sister defines herself by what she isn't. She's not the heiress, she's not a scholar, she's not a mage, explorer, or fighter. She's not... me. And you aren't Vi or Maggie, but I'm not sure you've given enough thought to what it means to be you." I shift uncomfortably in my seat, waiting for one of the others to chime in—for Maggie to dogpile me or for Vi to reassure me—but they remain silent.

I'm stuck considering what Talla is saying, and the possibility that she might be right.

"I'm still not learning magic," I grumble.

"That's fine," Talla chuckles.

"It's not for everyone. Just consider what you do want to learn—apart from language. You said you were a scholar before, right?"

"A student," I correct her.

"I didn't have my degree yet."

"What were you studying?" That's another one of the weird gaps in my memory. I close my eyes and try to concentrate. To ground myself on the things that I do remember. Names that I've recovered from beyond the haze of my amnesia. Earth, third from the sun—my home. Saturn, sixth from the sun—known for its beautiful rings—like the ones of this world. I'm not sure where I'm from, but I've traveled. I've studied people, places, cultures, languages, and histories. When it clicks, I feel silly.

I didn't lose the word for it, just the connection it had to me—a connection that rebuilds itself now that I've put the obvious pieces together.

"I'm not sure whether you're even going to have a word for it," I admit.

"A word for what?"

"[Anthropology]," I reply.

"It's a really broad topic, but I think I was studying [Anthropology]." Talla's eyes widen as she takes in the meaning of the word.

"The study of people themselves? I don't think we do have a word for that. That certainly does explain some things. Well, I see no reason you should give up on that." I blink.

"You just said that you don't even have a word for it. How do I study a field that doesn't exist?"

"The world of science is there whether we observe it or not," Talla argues.

"I can introduce you to some people when we get to the city. I know professors that would be lining up to hear tales about another country, much less a whole world. We'll get your [Teacher] class the levels it needs, I promise."

"Huh," I say.

"Okay then, I guess. I'll look forward to it." I mean, I was already looking forward to getting back to civilization, but I'm suddenly feeling a bit more optimistic about what might be in store for me when we get there.