Inch by Inch

There was blood on the gold mortar.

It was a minor detail, but enough to stop the Chief Administrator of Pono in her tracks. The blood splatter had not reached the carved walls and the porcelain tiles had been scrubbed spotless. Not the mortar. Faint red droplets hid amongst the metallic yellow sealant like flowers in a crop field.

It was special, that gold mortar — solid metal did not bind to porcelain without some help. So special it required a unique ability to clean. The current holder of the responsibility had held the post for thirty-six years. Lengthy trials were held for the position and privilege, a significant event now long forgotten. Every contender bar one had been suitably placed, but to the victor went the spoils.

These were some of the minor details that few would ever care to know about the center of an empire. Yet the Chief Administrator knew and noticed, and now she couldn’t look away. Ahmed would never have cleaned the tiles and not the mortar.

Over his dead body, she thought fondly, only for what was left of her heart to seize in fear. An idle thought that anxiety forced into a terrifying realness. She began to gather herself from the edges of the empire to chase that fear away.

It had a direction, the splatter of blood. A velocity. She began to walk forward, steps unbidden. Her breaths came thick with new incense, not the faintly remembered scent of blood and guts from her childhood. Another attempt at concealment. It took an effort to hold back the urge to shout out. Some of the drops glistened wetly like a good wine. Fresh. If someone could kill even in this place, then the guards were already dead. She was no fighter. Alerting anyone of her presence would only work against her purpose here.

Which was...

The question whirled through her mind as more and more of her attention was pulled here and away from Pono. Her awareness of the outlying settlements ceased first. It didn’t help. For all her training, all her experience, knowledge and all her power, this was not a situation that she was prepared for. Eventually, her absence from the mechanisms of state and society would be noticed, but too late.

A man waited for her around the next corner. She had not been as quiet as hoped.

“Why? Why this waste?”

He laughed. The Chief Administrator knew both the man’s face and his laugh. It had never looked or sounded cruel before.

“You know what this means?” The Chief Administrator asked.

“As if it would ever be anything else. You may have forgotten, but we remember. We can never forget. We will not submit to your rule. We will not take your poisoned nectar. All debts will be paid.”

His accent was stronger than ever and in his passion, he stumbled over the words of an unfamiliar language. That alienness on display for the first time. It always had been there, just hidden. What else lurked behind that veneer of goodwill?

“Then you will lose,” the Chief Administrator announced, with utter certainty even as she began to pull more and more of herself back, leaving a town then a city. It would not do to go out with a bang.

The ambassador smirked, but even he inclined his head in acknowledgement. Pono was not a force to be taken lightly.

“The staff?”

“You should not be worried about them.”

Who she should be worried about was left implied. By the gods, this man knew so little about her, about her people. Hopefully, it would be their doom.

She stepped aside, away from the center pattern of porcelain tiles outlined in gold, and the man let her. The cities tumbled away now, dropping from her mind with increasing speed as more of her became available to manage the withdrawal. It had been so long since she’d been in one place. She could not remember the last time she felt like this. Unbidden memories of a simpler life in her father’s butchery came to mind.

Then all that she was collected.

The full might of her attention fell on one of the slender candles lighting the passage. In an instant, she knew everything there was to know about this piece. Who made it, who handled it, who cleaned, lit and snuffed it each day. A lifetime of history and connections. Like everything else in this monument, the candle was exquisite. Wrapping around its narrow frame was the scene of a chase, the swirl of a breeze chasing forever after a forlorn leaf. She could almost feel the drop of sweat that had fallen on the wax as those details were carved. It was unique — no other candle in this long hall had a similar scene.

The small fire flickering at its peak was not, but perhaps that was the point. There was only so much humanity could control without the help of the Three.

“The cost,” she uttered in grief for all those that would bear it. For the butchers assigned to the gory work and their children. Her hand reached out for the candle, yet a step out of reach. Would it go out today? She hoped not.

“We have what we came for. And this, this is a bonus.”

The blade sank into her, under her breast and into her heart.

“May you choke on it.” To her pleased surprise, her tone did not change at all. If anything, as her heart’s blood soaked out through her dress, it filled her with energy and fury. That someone would bare blades in this place, mere hours before the solstice — it could not be borne.

The ambassador wasn’t so kind as to withdraw the knife cleanly. He slashed it to the side, neatly avoiding the ribs that the blade had slipped between. It was as practical a gesture as it was vicious. If he had left a clean cut, someone may have arrived in time to save her. The man was too intelligent for that.

It was also a practiced motion, the Chief Administrator realized. Borne from decades of practise and experience.

How had she missed this? Could she have known? Did she miss opportunities every time they shook hands?

No. She did not forget these days. Not anymore. There had been no signs, no calluses under her fingers. If there were, the guards would have seen even if she could not. This was something else. A blessing twisted. It brought her a cold measure of comfort, that they had sent someone like this to deal with her. There was nothing she could have done. The Chief Administrator of Pono had not failed her people.

She lay dying on the cold tiles, bleeding more into the gold mortar. Making further work for Ahmed, the storied cleaner, and hopefully not his replacement.

Little by little, her awareness faded, the bricks and blocks crumbling. She did her best to make them fall in ways that helped not hindered.

Eventually she was left without even her Words. Memories of pure laughter and a warm hand.

Then there was nothing.

On the other side of the continent, a leaf fell from a plant so large most would claim it a tree. Yet, this was no tree but a bush.

The leaf gently glided down, unnoticed by all but one lying down in the shade of that same bush. Even then, it was dismissed. The man lying there had much larger concerns than a single leaf falling from a very big bush.

And so it began.

| i i i ¦ i i i | i i i ¦ i i i |

A heart-shaped leaf glided across a faint breeze. It was bordered in gold, rays from the setting sun shining through and turning its center a rich, unworldly green. This leaf and many more etched shadows into the ground. They were heart-shaped too, dark holes which didn’t brighten at the edges like the leaves above. The breeze brought cold air and a strong peppery smell that made his nose twitch.

Jay lay back on the grassy hill and watched the light fade around the Wonder of his hometown. The Big Bush.

Not for the first time, he wondered what the first explorers had been thinking when they named the magical Wonder, that enormous plant which towered over the town and local forest. It could be seen for miles and was a fixed navigation point in the ever-changing landscape.

So why call it a name as simple as Big Bush?

Had the explorers been tired? Was this the last task in their travels before turning home, and weariness won over respect? Was it out of amusement? Or had it been contempt for the lackluster properties of the Wonder?

Sure, Kavakar’s Wonder didn’t produce fruit; its wood was brittle and unusable for crafting; and its signature leaves couldn’t be eaten and or gathered for fertilizer. But. Its young roots were boiled to make a calming hot drink. The wood made for good firewood when dried. Those heart-shaped leaves weren’t useful, but they had a unique appearance that few forgot. More important than all of that, the towering shrub’s very presence kept the town safe.

The Wonder was beautiful in its own way. Big Bush was a waste of a good name.

Technically, it wasn’t the official name. Instead, the Wonder had a long flowing one in a practically dead language. But no one spoke that, and the literal translation was, yes, you guessed it, Big Bush. So that’s what the locals called it. That’s what the maps said. It was what Jay was told, and it was all that he’d read.

The name was a puzzle. It made him question. Made him think. Long ago Jay had caught onto how odd it was for the very foundations of the town to be called something so simple, something so basic. If Kavakar’s Wonder got such a simple name, what were the other, more aptly named Wonders like? Were they beautiful beyond description? Did they reveal secrets with a whisper and change lives with a touch?

Were the Oddities they held back more dreadful? More remarkable? Greater?

Jay wanted to know. He needed to know.

A gust rattled the branches above him, and Jay shivered. It was getting late. Too late to be out, and he’d be getting a scolding from the town guard. And they’d be right. At this time of night, anything could be awake and hunting. This was one aspect of a Wonder that Big Bush did not fail to deliver in. Its aegis of protection never faltered. Big Bush’s mana domain helped prevent Oddities — miracle or monster — from forming, but it didn’t stop them from wandering in.

Jay sighed and pushed himself up. Staying out here in the cold dark was not going to make time pass faster or help him sleep. Tomorrow would come no sooner if he wished for it. Taking one last look at the embers of the day dying to the horizon, he turned and headed home.

“Jay Tsukain, you would be running laps around the town before the sun rose if it wasn’t for the date.”

Jay shielded his eyes from the bright light pointing down at him from the top of the wall and attempted to look contrite. “Sorry, I lost track of the time.”

He didn’t expect the excuse to work on Koa, one of the town guard’s captains, but not making an attempt would only increase his future punishment. The power of polite fiction. Koa knew he hadn’t missed the sun falling, and likely knew why Jay had stayed out, but this was a minor annoyance for the captain. Dealing with surly or annoying citizens was more of an annoyance. The whole charade was pointless, but it made life easier for everyone.

“Is that so? You’ll have to make the laps up to me the day after the solstice, then,” Koa called back, shifting the beam of light away from Jay.

Jay blinked spots out of his eyes. Koa didn’t need the beam to see him in the dark. The man’s Word was well known. Links. Koa could see Jay’s connections to the town as clear as day in any light. If someone had any kind of link to another person, Koa saw an actual chain binding them. The guard captain knew Jay was coming before Jay could even see the wall. He had used the light as a reprimand, not out of necessity.

A rattle at the base of the wall guided Jay to the door set at the base of the wide gates before his eyes adjusted. He jogged over. Again, this was another polite but pointless thing to do. There was no rush, but dawdling would only increase the amount of time that Koa was thinking of punishment and not his duty.

The door swung open with only a slight whish of air as Jay arrived. On the other side of the entrance, Alex, one of the guard recruits, gave him a smug grin.

“Alright Jay?“ the thuggish man said, waving him through and locking the door behind as he passed. “You thought you’d try get a jump on the captain, huh? Catch him before you properly join up?“

Sneaking up on the captains was an initiation ritual for the guards. Apparently, Koa had never been caught. Rumors said that he was impossible to sneak up on. Sullen guard recruits, like Alex, running punishment laps after failing their attempts, gave the rumors strength. It was a powerful Word, Links.

“Something like that,“ Jay muttered.

“Waste of a good night’s sleep if you ask me. You’ll have plenty of night shifts to give it a go,“ Alex said, shaking his head. “Just like you to try it, though.“

Like Jay, Alex had a lot to look forward to tomorrow. Unlike Jay, there was no uncertainty in Alex’s future. Tomorrow Alex would complete his time as a guard recruit and advance in the organization. He would earn a pay rise, take on less scut work and in the next week, get a batch of new recruits to lord over. A batch of recruits that Alex expected Jay to be part of.

It wasn’t a completely groundless assumption. Like a lot of the locals, Jay took part in the guard’s morning training. He made no effort to hide his interest in fighting and obeyed the captains’ orders, including submitting himself for punishments like laps that the captains had no authority to enforce. Koa likely had the same belief as Alex. Jay’s family’s Sentence was a known quality and recruiting him would be quite a coup for the organization.

The only issue was that Jay had no intention of joining the town guards.

Still, he thanked Alex while narrowing his eyes to counter the guard’s smug expression. He glanced at the top of the wall, but Koa had already melted back into the dark night. The captain liked to wear loose or distorted clothing that, along with his dark skin, made him incredibly difficult to spot at night. It was another common complaint during morning training that Koa liked to jump scare any guards who were slacking on watch duty.

With a wave at the top of the wall to where he thought Koa, who had likely already returned to duty, might be, Jay jogged off into the town. It didn’t take long to get home.

Placing a hand on the door to steady it, he slowly applied pressure to the latch, gently easing it out of the groove without making any squeals or creaks. Once he had finished that agonizing task, it was simple to slide the bolt out of the frame. The door hadn’t been locked from inside, and with a gentle push it swung open, leaving enough for him to slip inside.

Now on the other side of the door, Jay slid the bolt back into place with equally smooth movements. He smiled. A perfect soundless entry. Now to grab a quick snack and-

A hand smacked the back of his head.

Wincing, he turned to face his mother, Mika. In the darkness, she was just a shape, but the angry glint in the brown eyes they shared was unmistakable. The rapid hand movement by her face was also hidden by the night, but he had no trouble recognizing the familiar instruction to be quiet.

Jay rubbed the smarting back of his head and shrugged. It was the closest thing to an excuse that he could make without speaking.

He felt, but could not see, the swish of the air as she pointed up the stairs.

Reluctantly, he trudged up the stairs, plans for a snack forgotten. Though discovered, his steps remained quiet. There was no reason to disturb his father and younger brother. He carefully got ready for bed and lay down for a restless night of planning and running back over his options. He was asleep before getting through half of them all.

Breakfast the next morning was an uneasy affair. His mother made sure to let him know that, like Koa, she was postponing his punishment until after the solstice.

“How are we set with stock for the post ceremony rush?” Adrien, his father, asked, pulling his mother’s attention away. As Mika hummed in thought and turned to find her account book, Adrien winked at Jay.

They always tried to band together for these moments when one of them was in trouble. His mother’s anger was pointed. It dispersed quickly when aimed at multiple people. Usually, they got away with only a few calls of ‘mop heads’ out of fond frustration. Jay didn’t like the term — his hair had been short for years now, but he had inherited his father’s curly hair even if he didn’t grow it out as long.

The distraction didn’t really work this morning. His mother was more than happy to push his father’s questions onto his younger brother Sam and spend her time glaring at Jay. It wasn’t a completely ineffective distraction, though. When his father’s question ran out, she got caught up thinking of more things to ask Sam. Unfortunately, Sam had no trouble with the impromptu math and memory test.

Thankfully, neither of his parents thought to ask Jay anything and his salvation eventually arrived in the form of a letter from his older sister.

“Hasuko couldn’t be here today, but she wanted to let you know that she was thinking of you,” Adrien explained as he handed over the letter.

Jay snatched the lifeline like a drowning man. A reminder of his sister’s lack of visits would help shift his mother’s ire away. He ripped open the envelope and scanned through it.

The letter held the usual greetings and well wishes followed by a good luck for his granting day. At the end was a small note reiterating an offer to join her guild before she signed off with Suko, her chosen nickname. Only their father called them by their proper names. Jay gave it another quick look over to make sure he hadn’t missed anything before passing it onto his mother. Unlike him, she began to read it thoroughly, letting out the occasional scoff.

Jay smiled. Her anger at his late night would be forgotten quickly with a larger target in sight.

His father took the letter next and gave it a quick read through before sighing.

“If you are granted a suitable Word, please take the financial side of adventuring more seriously,” Adrien said, glancing at the letter again only to shake his head and tut. “She has more than enough ability to run a guild, not remain as a random member.”

Jay gave him a placating smile in return. It was a familiar complaint from his father. Suko had exceeded all expectations with her Word. The gods had seen fit to grant her Force and it, well, made her into a force to be reckoned with. When she wished Suko could project blasts strong enough to send a man flying.

Force was also a direct return to the origin of his mother’s family’s Sentence. It was a godsend and gave Jay hope for his own granted Word. But Adrien’s complaint wasn’t about Suko’s Word, it was about what she did with it.

“No mention taking on a leadership role,“ Adrien tutted, placing the letter down. “How does she think she can offer you a position without any authority? I enquired about her plans in my last letter. Not one word.“

Jay hummed, like it wasn’t a topic that had been ground to death at this table. While Suko had power in spades, she lacked ambition. She was part of a good, well known guild, but not one of the best. It was still a great guild for a newly worded, many would jump at the chance to get a foot in the door, but Jay had no intentions on relying on his sister.

He had a plan.

He’d been speaking with guild recruiters for the last few solstices; volunteering to be a training partner for the newly worded, listening to the guild offers, giving advice to the new recruits — nothing extraordinary, but the result of his research into the more mundane aspects of adventuring. The recruits only listened due to his family’s reputation, but they listened.

It wasn’t strictly acceptable to do this before receiving a Word, but the inroads he’d made were invaluable. The town guard’s training gave him a solid foundation for fighting. His family’s name and reputation didn’t hurt either. Jay didn’t like being judged solely on that, but it was unavoidable. Instead, he used it as a way of measuring the guilds’ interest. The recruiters that spent more time testing him and less his family were the ones he prioritized.

“Don’t worry,” Jay said with confidence built on all this preparation. “I know what I’m worth.”

Adrien chuckled while his mother let out a sigh.

“Everyone eat up quickly,” she admonished, turning a mother’s eyes on the three of them. “We may have fixed seats, but we will not disrespect the town by showing up late.”

And like that, all conversation ceased, and they focused on the meal.

An hour and a half later, Jay grinned at his family in the second row of the church. He stood with some of the other guild and guard hopefuls among the rest of the recipients.

Speaker Natasha was well into her sermon now, but he’d heard it twice a year since he could walk. It was much more entertaining to watch the crowd.

The fixed seats for their family were a small thing. An acknowledgement that his grandmother on his mother’s side had helped build the town. But Jay didn’t focus on that generation of his family. He was much more interested in his great-grandfather, Han ‘the Strong’, than the man’s daughter. Suko’s Word had returned them to their family’s sentence’s origin with Force. It was a welcome reversal of the sentence’s trend.

Jay’s mother had been granted Carry. Her mother, his grandmother, and one of the town founder’s, had been granted Lift. Strong Words that allowed his grandmother to lead her father’s guild to success and, on her retirement, go on to found a town. Strong Words that allowed his mother to run one of the largest shops in the region.

But not ‘Strong’ Words.

The addition of his father’s Weight must work well with the sentence. He wondered what he was going to get. Power was in line with Force. Or something like Might would be closer to the Strong origin. He didn’t mind if he got a verb, noun or adjective. Power was as good as Powerful.

A sharp look from his mother made him turn his attention back to the sermon.

Speaker Natasha spoke from the center of three spirals carved deep into the ground. She stood, unsupported in a way that would make you question her age if you didn’t see the lines that time had carved into her face. From here, she could be seen and heard from each of the three corners of the church.

“-and so, I ask you to open yourselves to the heart. Take what the Three grant you and make your place in this world, whether that be with the home or the hinterlands.”

There was a lull as Speaker Natasha let her words digest in the minds of the congregation. And for those at the back and out of sight to wake back up.

“Each recipient gathered here today has reached their second of the three threes. Now we shall support them as the Three bestow upon them their path. Whether that be in the…”

“The heart, the home or the hinterlands,” the crowd chanted back. Like Jay, they too had sat through many of these Sermons.

But that was the recipients’ cue and, as their names were called, one by one they stepped away from the group. It was a short few steps to the center of the three spirals that Speaker Natasha had left vacant. The recipient stood at the center of the spirals for a few seconds. Glowing words spiraled into being above their heads, and the Gods granted them powers and purpose. As each word faded, the chant was repeated, the only sound in the church bar the occasional shout of emotion from families in the crowd.

Jay couldn’t pay much attention as the others were granted words. He was too wrapped up in planning his next steps. After the ceremony, he and the other guild and guard hopefuls would make their way to the various recruiters, hopefully without family delaying the proceedings too much. There, they would reveal their words and demonstrate their gods-given abilities. The recruiters weren’t allowed in the church, but would likely be the first to see the full extent of many abilities. He couldn’t wait.

“Jiro Tsukain.”

Thankfully, he wasn’t too caught up in thinking to miss his full name. He stepped forward into the spirals, carefully avoiding stepping on the lines carved into the stone until he was at the center. He didn’t believe that scraping against the lines would change anything, but best to be safe.

Nothing changed immediately, so he took a breath and waited. He’d been told he wouldn’t feel anything, but it was still a surprise to see the green lines forming above his head without any sensation or push of air. He tilted his head back and tried to read the word from the forming spirals.

M a r

That was definitely an ‘M’. Was it Might? It didn’t fit in with the ‘a’ or ‘r’ that he thought he could see. Some kind of derivation? The word solidified.

Measure

‘What?’ Jay thought as it became clear. Measure? Was it some kind of internal strength? The measure of a person? He didn’t feel any different. There didn’t seem to be any power flowing through his veins.

“The heart, the home and the hinterlands,” the crowd chanted.

Jay’s confusion was dispelled as he turned to Natasha, the short elderly speaker. Instinctively, he knew she was 5 foot 2 inches. The knowledge a certainty set in his mind in the same way that the fact that the sun would rise tomorrow was.

“What?”