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Chapter
1: The Beginning and the End
I dodged a forward fist thrust aimed at my face. Air stirred near my ear, rustled my short hair, hinting that the miss was closer than it should have been. I knocked the fist away and followed through with a directed knee jab, straight to the fist owner’s gut. A greasy, chunky brute with lots of weight but little poise, he exhaled hot, smelly breath before cleverly rolling with the impact. He finished behind me, his hairy arms about my chest. They tightened, grating my linen breast strap painfully. I grunted, gritted my teeth. Curse it I was fighting badly today! Frowning, I wriggled my tall, lithe frame downwards and simultaneously heaved the brute using my shoulder. He spun in front of me and I lashed for him; one of my palms found his bare chest while the other nipped his shoulder. I twirled beside him and extended my leg near his ankles. His balance faltered and he tripped. A moment later his loin-clothed buttocks slapped the stamped clay floor. Finally! Contest complete, I straightened, feeling only mild satisfaction. My opponent had fought better than I had expected, despite his flawed style. Ordinarily it would not have mattered, except on this occasion I had planned to demonstrate his weaknesses to the other students. I could only hope they had not noticed their teacher’s feeble efforts. Behind my back I fixed my loosened breast strap knot and extended my hand. “Your performance was admirable,” I said. “But you failed in one critical aspect.” He gave me his thick, sweaty hand and I helped him to his feet. “Blocking, defence,” he said between breaths. “That is correct.” I smiled. “Your offensive manoeuvres proved worthy but my counter blows easily penetrated your defences… Or perhaps your attacking style leaves you too vulnerable - you can look at it either way.” The bearded brute nodded thoughtfully. I continued, “It is good that you realise your deficiency, always the first step toward improvement.” He rejoined the other students, encircled around us. They were a mixed collection of youths, men and middle-aged chaps from varying backgrounds. There were no women in this particular unarmed combat class and hardly any taking my other classes. A shame really, because the sport could be quite satisfying. I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead. Sweat lathered my complexion, which was surprising considering the scuffle had barely taxed me. Probably the day’s rare balmy attitude was responsible. Or was it nervousness about that other matter? My attention strayed to the large barred window in the far wall. Outside, the sun hid behind overcast early autumn skies, making time estimation downright impossible. It could have been late afternoon just as surely as it could have been mid morning. There were not even shadows to give me a clue, just a fuzzy dullness blanketing the gravel streets. That irked me. Was it time to end the class or not? Back inside, my students blinked expectantly in my direction. Some of them conveyed blatant lust, others curiosity at my uncharacteristic distraction. The worst offender, Lexis Jeweller, grinned openly, flirtatiously, setting my heart racing. I gathered my wits and said, “Find your partners and spar for a while longer. Focus on the principles I have taught you this morning.” The men split into pairs while I took my usual observation position against the northern wall. Made from sun-baked mud brick, it stretched about twenty steps long and ten hands high, the same dimensions as every other wall in the training hall. Not as large as I would have liked, or as clean, but the rent was affordable. When I turned I immediately noticed Lexis again, despite my intense desire to ensure otherwise. Short and lean, he was not the most statuesque man on Ixenfor. His hair grew dark and oily, skin white and freckled, hands and feet somewhat oversized compared to the rest of him. In some ways he reminded me of a frog. Frog-like or not, I found him desirable, probably because respect, patience and kindness formed his core personality. Such traits were hard to find, especially in a twenty-five-year-old. That made him four years younger than me. And while current relationship trends favoured older women with younger men, that had no bearing whatsoever on my interest in him. During a combative pause his gaze latched onto mine. Another flirtatious grin lit up his narrow face. This time my gut knotted. The poor guy had no suspicion. Why would he? I had given no indication of my discontent. I had plans, goals long before Lexis entered my life. I could not just abandon them to host love’s untimely visit. Why? Why, indeed? Perhaps nothing needed to be abandoned, only ‘adapted’ as father used to tell me? No! This was why it had to end. I could achieve nothing in this ridiculously confused state. Best I confront the matter and get it over and done with before more doubts shook my resolve. I took a deep breath and called out to the class, “Very good! That will do for this morning. Before you leave, there is one more thing I would like to tell you…” I waited until I had their full attention. Usually I ended the class with good worldly advice and, in spite of everything, this morning would be no exception. “Often my students fall victim to costly schemes devised by crafty merchants, schemes that supposedly improve physical capabilities. Do not be fooled! Contraptions and devices, potions and balms are a waste of time. Simple things like push-ups, sit-ups, chin-ups, stretches and jogging are perfectly adequate. Done often and repetitively, they will improve you internally and aesthetically. Remember that and save yourself a fortune. You may go.” Some students called their thanks. Their appreciation failed to quell my nervousness. And when Lexis approached full of obvious good cheer, that did not help either! “I cannot believe my good fortune,” he said, reaching for my hand. “You are so…” “Lexis, no.” I stepped out of his reach. Curse it, this was going to be harder than I thought! My mouth was dry now, my heart heavy and pounding. Uncertainty replaced his grin. “Sorry, Misti…” I took another deep breath. “Our relationship must end and we should avoid contact, initially at least.” Lexis blinked at me. I had to turn away. His soft but searching expression threatened to change my mind. Silence stretched between us. I felt so queasy I wanted to vomit. What had I done? Made the wrong decision? I had hoped to feel relief; instead I felt like a criminal. “You are serious I see.” “Yes. It is best.” “How is it best?” Avoiding his eyes, I searched for a credible excuse. The dusty floor did not offer one, nor did my tender emotions. I thought about telling him the truth but that might be interpreted poorly. So all I said was, “I am sorry. “Explain to me why you are doing this.” “I am not ready for a committed relationship.” “That is not true and you know it. You are more ready than some women who have been married for ten years or longer.” I bit my lower lip. My cheeks blazed. Unless I took control I would become a bawling wreck. That must not happen. Frowning, I faced him again, forced composure. “I have made my decision.” And I would not change it here, now, under these circumstances. “But we have a rapport, a real rapport,” he said with exasperation. “That is not something you abruptly discard because your mood is low. What if we…” “This has nothing to do with my ‘mood’. I have considered it day and night, my sleep has been very disrupted because of this, more so than usual.” “Then perhaps your decision is faulty.” I folded my arms. Ordinarily Lexis did not force an argument. Why in the world had he started today? “Listen to me,” I pleaded. “The time is not right. Two years from now, maybe, but not now.” It was his turn to frown. “Two years? What do you mean two years?” “I have goals, Lexis, objectives I have been working towards for many years. I am not prepared to compromise them over this.” There, I had said it – the truth. Yet hearing it stated out loud, despite my outwardly confident, unfaltering delivery, it sounded pathetic and insincere. And I had made Lexis seem nothing more than a trivial obstacle in the way of achieving my all-important goals. He narrowed his eyes, which had at first reflected his unmistakeable hurt. “I did not realise my affections were so destructive to you. Obviously you do not feel as deeply for me as I thought, or as deeply as I feel for you! Good morning!” He whirled around and strode for the doorway. He did not look back. I wanted with all my heart to call out after him but instead I cursed under my breath. It felt like boiling venom had scorched my gizzards. Bloody carcass! It was my life; I could see who I wanted! Outside, beyond the window, well-to-do people strolled within view. They did not have these problems. Or if they did they handled them far better than I just had. I snatched my daily-takings purse, my linen warm-weather cloak and reed sandals and marched toward the exit. I almost collided with a female police officer – recognisable by a red and black armband and government issue bronze sword. “Misti Potterdon?” she asked. “Yes, I am she,” I answered uneasily. “The authorities require your immediate presence.” I blinked at the short but tough-looking woman, expecting at least a little elaboration. None came. Either she knew nothing or had been told not to reveal anything. Whatever the truth, a meeting with the city’s managers was wearisome at the best of times, let alone when sweaty and upset. Unfortunately such a summons could not be ignored. “Very well,” I sighed. “First I need to wash and change into something more appropriate…” The officer blocked the doorway. “The time is not negotiable. The matter is urgent. I am to escort you.” She led me through the busy, dusty streets of Bucleville. According to the last census, approximately fifty-five thousand people inhabited the city and by my reckoning at least half of them stepped in my way. I should have been used to it; I was not and my tense muscles and pounding heart emphasised the fact. Almost an entire life spent in one hectic population hub had not cured my loathing for crowds. Bucleville sprawled over a wide distance, a lattice of communal and private suburbs intersected by commercial buildings and marketplaces. Orchards and croplands girt the city’s perimeter, joined by noisy, smelly industries that would have caused problems had they been situated centrally. Things had not always been that way. Before the Riyan Society revolution, the Ixenfor continent had been comprised of city states run by monarchs, despots and religious fanatics. Sizeable population centres in that Second Era had been hodgepodge at best – it was not uncommon to find a putrid leather station right beside an eatery. But that was so long ago only clay tablets and abandoned ruins kept the memories from fading. Soon we arrived at Bucleville’s centre, where the primary administrative building stretched two storeys high. It was a squarish, terraced design more functional than aesthetic, and, like most regional structures, was built from adobe bricks atop an imported jarrah framework - or so I assumed, based on texts I had read on the subject. I followed the woman into a familiar reception area. The small, windowless room looked the same now as it had several months ago; even the dust piles in each corner seemed identical. Unpleasant memories stirred. I wanted to turn around and leave. Alas, that was not an option. A bench occupied some space near the furthest wall. Scattered parchment, papyrus scrolls and ink pots covered its surface, free for any stray thief to snatch - though undoubtedly the unlit bronze lamp hanging on a stand in the corner would have made a more profitable target. The receptionist was absent. If it was who I suspected it was, he had likely busied himself with less important matters. My police escort and I marched into a narrow passage at the rear and then through a side doorway. A moment later, the city manager’s office stretched before us, bathed in the powerful smell of aged kangaroo leather. More disconcerting memories filled my mind, blended with my already depressed mood. The crowds outside suddenly seemed more attractive. Two low, square tables sat near the centre, not beside each other but at right angles. An elderly man named Yenield sat behind one, while behind the other was an elderly woman, Farina. Like the bench in the reception area, both tables held an assortment of writing materials. Farina’s looked much tidier than Yenield’s, but nowhere near as neat as I would have kept it. Feeble light filtered through the room’s numerous barred windows. I could barely see the old couple. Even so, I knew from memory neither person was attractive - not Yenield with his patchy white hair and gnarled, leathery features, nor Farina with her grey locks gathered in a bun behind her flattish head. “Ah, Misti, good morning to you,” Yenield said as he rose from his chair. “Rest your legs.” He pointed at a simple wooden stool, one of several positioned halfway between the tables and the doorway. The stool’s faded, ancient upholstery was undoubtedly the source of the room’s odour, though possibly Yenield and Farina’s crinkly hides also contributed. The officer left the room while I edged my buttocks onto the rickety seat, adopting a proper posture: very straight and upright, knees together, hands in my lap atop my sandals and purse. Such a pose helped keep me alert, though perhaps in this instance I would need more than that. “I trust your classes progress well?” Yenield asked. “As well as usual, yes,” I lied and dispelled distracting thoughts of Lexis. “Good, good...” Yenield planted himself. “It has been quite some time since your last tax duty, about five months in fact.” Farina’s voice was surprisingly deep, almost masculine. “In a properly managed city my services are rarely required.” In all honesty, I did not like Farina, not one little bit. She was arrogant, contemptuous and downright domineering. Prior incidents had seen us verbally clash and it was simply miraculous I had not yet flattened her. My violent temper was well known, and I did wonder if she provoked me on purpose. She would love to see me flogged for insubordination. “True, true,” Farina agreed. “Unfortunately though, there has been an incident, one requiring your investigative talents.” “I was told it was urgent.” “It is. Extremely…” Preparing to speak, Yenield stood again – a weird, irksome trait he had acquired over the years. “An impixi, by all accounts, forms the core of this particular mystery.” I arched my eyebrows, curious and surprised at the same time. It had been a long time since I had heard anything of impixies, and then only in stories and hearsay. The little rodents supposedly possessed destructive psychic powers, not to mention the potential to spread disease. Nonetheless some reckless fools liked to keep them as pets, illegal though it was. Maybe this would not be so boring after all. While Yenield sat down again, Farina took up the story. “The creature was sighted yesterday by a group of children. Not long after they found it, a man chased them away, caught the impixi and then escaped. Who he was or where he went we obviously do not know.” “Where did this happen?” Yenield stood and answered, “A private suburb called Herandon. You know of it?” “Yes. It is the second most affluent area in Bucleville.” “The most affluent in these times,” Farina said. Yenield retook his seat. “Wealthy offspring are capable fibbers, as capable as any other child.” I mused. “True, but their tale needs to be investigated. Question them this day. You will find them waiting for you at Herandon’s school. It may be that their imagination is at work. If so, then good. If not, well, I do not need to tell you the impixi must be found as soon as possible. To make matters worse there is an oxilod contingent in town – and you know how poorly they mix with impixies.” Yenield stood. “Do you require an escort?” “No. I can find my way.” “Report to us as necessary,” Farina said. “Good day.” “Yes, good day to you,” Yenield added. I nodded and left the managers’ office. The meeting had been shorter and more interesting than expected. Regardless, I was not happy. Tax duties never incited great joy, not for anybody, and for me the only reason I hated them was bitch Farina. My students would not be impressed either, now their classes would be postponed for a few days. As I followed the passage into the reception area my thoughts strayed to Lexis. Was he crying over me? Cursing me while he guzzled half a dozen mugs of ale? Well, he would have to get over it. Quickly, I hoped. A man arrived at the building’s main doorway at the same time as me. It jolted me out of my thoughts. Annoyed, I almost grabbed and hauled him out of the way. Instead, I politely stepped aside. He cast his dark blue eyes downward and shuffled inside. Beneath his arm he hugged a bulging leather rucksack against his ribs. Its shabby condition matched his tattered tunic and linen pants, both yellowed with age. His shoulder-length clay-brown hair looked similarly scruffy. Maybe he had come to steal something. I did not have time to keep watch. Outside, I quickly slipped into my sandals and started along the uneven, brick-paved main street. I veered toward a straw-strewn area reserved for mounts, intending to cut across it. Then I halted. More than just camels mulled around the beams and water troughs. Three ‘Big Eyes’, officially called ‘oxilods’, loitered alongside a small entourage of human servants. They were undoubtedly the contingent Farina had mentioned. I shuddered. Ugly creatures, even from this distance, towering over the humans by at least a head, their hairless grey skin stretched taut like leather on a drum. I did not need to draw closer to see the fine detail, the two enormous black eyes in the narrow bald heads above two tiny nostrils and a similarly proportioned, lipless mouth. And if looks were not enough to make most people nervous, their psychic abilities were. Big Eyes could stun or dominate a person’s mind. Double them over in paralysis or stab themselves to death. I shuddered again. I had heard enough to know I did not want to experience such powers. I changed my direction. The morning had been unsettling enough. I resolved to make the afternoon turn out better - avoiding oxilods was an excellent start!
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