System Lost: My Own Best Friend

When we reach town, the first thing that strikes me is how much bigger it is than the village we passed before. Unlike the little nameless hamlet, this place is accessible by road, and the sandstone construction that had been reserved for the village center is instead the baseline standard for buildings. I can't even see the river yet as we enter the town proper. In my head, it was just going to be the village, but scaled up—instead, it's a lot more like home than expected. Small compared to a city, but there must be thousands of people living here.

Horses and carriages share the road with impressively fearless pedestrians, most of whom seem more concerned about stepping in a horse's poop than getting trampled by one. And, to be fair, that's a very real concern. The giant pangolin-like creatures that my brain is rapidly rewiring itself to recognize as horses poop on the move without a second thought, and nobody else pays it any mind, except to step around it.

Not that anybody is paying attention to anything other than us. The car stands out like a sore thumb, and our progress is slowed way down as Talla has to slow down for people stopping to gawk.

Oddly enough, despite being the only non-Fa'aun in sight, I don't warrant more than a few curious glances from most of the townsfolk. I'm an oddity, true, but Talla is important.

"Welcome to Sagaasi, my lady!" a well-dressed man greets us—well, Talla—almost as soon as we arrive. Someone must have sent word ahead that we were coming. "What brings you to our humble township?"

"Ranger business," she replies politely. "We'll need lodging for the night, and my associate will have some questions for the local militia about a suspicious character who came traveling down the river a few months ago."

"Her 'associate'?" I whisper to Draga. "Aren't you supposed to be the boss?"

"I'm used to it by now," he sighs. "This is easier than constantly correcting people, and being undermined is a small price to pay for having a healer like Talla on the team."

The man ignores our little sidebar and ducks his head graciously. "I'll inform my wife, the mayor, right away! We'd be happy to host you all as our guests! As for your investigation—I'll see what I can do, but I'm afraid we get quite a few travelers. It may be hopeless."

I lean over towards Draga again. "I didn't see that many on the road though?"

"The river," he clarifies. "Most people cross the empire by boat."

"What about the ringwise directions?"

He points east. "Mountains, then the ocean." Then west. "Desert. A few scattered tribes, but no major settlements. Their status within the empire is...complicated."

"That's putting it lightly," Talla cuts in, having finished her business with the man while we were talking. "They're officially recognized as imperial citizens—even recognized as clans with the same status as the Foren families."

"Foren is the...middle caste?" I hedge. "The one that Saban was from."

"They aren't really castes," Talla argues, earning a raised eyebrow from Draga before she hurries to clarify. "Okay, they aren't meant to be. It's just that some clans have more prestige than others—mostly because of relationships to the church or crown."

"And the, uh, tribes?" I ask.

"They don't recognize themselves as imperial citizens," she sighs. "But that doesn't stop them from staying within the regions assigned to them by the empress."

"Because otherwise they'd lose them," Draga adds. "The tribes were originally nomadic, but imperial recognition means they can't leave the land they're on without 'ceding' it to other clans. That's why they reject it."

"While still respecting it!" Talla insists.

Okay, wow. He wasn't kidding about it being complicated. I bet there's a lot of really interesting history behind that. And uh, probably not much of it is pleasant.

"Typical," Violet scoffs, but doesn't clarify further. I'm starting to realize that she's not too big on authority.

Okay, I realized that way back in the caves, but now that we've got room to breathe, it's really coming out of her.

"Interesting. I missed the last part of your conversation with the man," I say, frowning a bit at the awkward phrasing. Still getting the hang of this language. "What's the plan?"

"Like at the village," Talla says. "It would be rude to refuse—though at least this time I know they can afford it. The mayor of this town is probably a Baanu—or closely related to one."

The crowd stalling us starts to disperse, in part because of a few militiamen armed with spears shouting at them to get a move on. Draga takes the opportunity to hop off the vehicle.

"I'm going to make inquiries with the sheriff," he explains. "I'll catch up."

"You're not going to disappear until tomorrow, leaving us to deal with the mayor by ourselves, are you?" Talla presses.

Draga coughs into his fist and looks away sheepishly. "I wouldn't dream of it. I'll be back in time for dinner."

I glance up at the sky, already getting dim. On the road, we didn't stop for dinner until it got dark, but I'll bet that it's already past dinnertime for regular people.

Talla just sighs. "Just please come find us if you need anything? You know I don't let my noble obligations get in the way of my duties as a ranger."

"And you know as well as I do that most people see it the other way around," he replies smoothly, his smile growing slightly strained. "I'm not in any danger—don't embarrass yourself on my account, and keep an eye on Miss Allie—that's an order."

"Fine," she sighs, before hastily correcting herself. "I mean, yes sir."

Draga nods, then skips off into the crowd to flag down one of the militiamen.

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"I guess it's just us then?" I hedge.

Talla nods, shifting the vehicle back into gear to slowly trundle down the street at a pace that won't endanger anyone around us. "Probably. You should brace yourself—if the mayor really is from my clan, she's going to be a lot less reserved than the village elder from before."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," I say, not really believing it. "I'm surprised to see that most of the militia are men. That's normal where I'm from, but I was half-expecting it to be different here."

She glances back idly, though most of the men in question have already moved on, leaving only a few stragglers and a lonely street sweeper clearing the manure and other debris behind us. So that's how they deal with it.

"Those are just footsoldiers," she says. "The sheriff is probably a woman, and if there's a garrison here it'll definitely be a woman leading. Men are more suitable for physical labor and aggression, but it takes a woman's cool head to lead."

"Wow," Maggie drawls. "She really just said that."

"What? The truth?" Evie asks. "Even I know that much—it's just common sense."

"It's sexism, is what it is," Maggie replies.

"It doesn't bother you that Draga is your boss?" I ask curiously, ignoring their quibbling.

"It did at first," Talla admits. "But Draga's a good leader. Those are just generalities after all—there's always exceptions."

"So most men aren't fit to lead," I probe, more to get a feel for Talla's views than to make a statement. "But Draga's an exception."

"Exactly," Talla says with a nod. "Trust me, you would not want someone like my little brother in charge of anything—especially not an army. They're far too emotional."

I purse my lips, very carefully trying not to react at all to that statement. It's...very weird hearing the exact same argument used against women in my world being directed against men in this one. As far as I can tell, the cultural norms around feminine and masculine traits are mostly aligned with what I know, but the way they are perceived and treated is very different. I'm not comfortable commenting until I've got a better feel for things, lest I end up putting my foot in my mouth by making a bad assumption.

It makes me want to hear what Draga thinks, but aside from a few playful jabs here and there, he's been fairly reserved about his opinions. He's pointed enough about the things he chooses to push back on, but he's also been pretty careful about being purely descriptive—he only talks about what is, rather than what ought to be.

Gah, what a complicated fricking mess. I wasn't expecting culture shock to hit me this hard, but I'm pretty anxious about meeting this mayor now. I have no idea what to say to avoid insulting her.

Unfortunately, I don't have much time to mentally prepare myself. With the streets cleared, we make pretty good time, and I barely have time to admire the view of the river before our carriage is ushered into a whole walled-off estate on the riverbank that's practically a whole town within the town.

The man from before somehow beat us here, and he's joined by who I can only assume must be his wife—the aforementioned mayor. Her fur is white, like Talla's—and Kiera's, actually, now that I think about it—and her horns share the same thin antelope-like quality that I've mostly only seen on them. Her clothes are the most colorful I've seen on anybody in this world, with bright blue and bleach-white fabrics that flow beautifully across her form in what I can only interpret as an homage to the river on which her home is built. Her shawl, rather than a cloak, is paired with a sarong-style skirt that makes me think the whole attire is intentionally revealing—working her own fur into the outfits colors. Finally, her horns, ears, neck, and wrists are all adorned with various bits of jewelry, from gemstone earrings to what looks like jade bangles.

All in all, if someone showed me a picture of this woman, my first impression would be that she's rich, and my second would be that she wants everybody to know it.

She approaches us with open arms while her husband stands back.

"Welcome cousin!" she beams. "It's so delightful to see you! Lady Talla Goa Baanu, it would be my pleasure to offer you and your friends Saagasi's hospitality, and that of my house."

Talla ducks her head slightly. "Cousin Maari Shaa Baanu, I would be honored to accept on behalf of my family."

"You know her?" I mutter quietly under my breath.

"No. Shh," Talla hisses back.

Maari notices the exchange, flashing me a brief glance before returning her attention to Talla.

"You keep interesting company, but I'm sure you'll introduce me in time. I'm more interested in this artifact of yours! I wasn't aware the Goa family was in possession of such a machine."

"It's on loan from the Gaa family," Talla explains. "To facilitate an expedition ringward."

"Ah!" Maari claps her hands together. "Lady Kiera's prize. I'm surprised to see it away from her—how is our cousin?"

My throat goes painfully dry, and I try not to let the dread I'm feeling show on my face even as I feel the blood draining out of it.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the details of our mission," Talla replies smoothly. "You can ask our team leader, but you know how the church is about their business."

"Alas," the opulent lady sighs. "Sir Draga Clanless, of the Stebaari Order of Rangers, yes? I'll see that the staff know to admit him entry if he arrives."

If. Her tone and wording make it clear that she doesn't expect that to happen, and maybe I'm reading too much into it, but I get the impression she prefers it that way. Does Talla not notice any of this? No wonder he was so quick to bail earlier.

"A space has been cleared next to the stables for your vehicle," she continues. "I'll have the servants unload and clean it—and Shaa's word that not a dent or scratch will be left upon it. When you're ready, I'd be most pleased if you and your guest joined us in the main hall for dinner."

With that, she ducks her head and sweeps off back the way she came, her clothes flowing like the river they're modeled after, and her husband following close behind.

"Cousin?" I ask, once we're alone.

"Sort of," Talla sighs as she starts navigating the clunky vehicle towards the stables. "She's not my actual cousin, like Kiera was. It's just a common form of greeting between clanswomen."

"And you know each other."

"Nope. We've never met before," Talla replies.

"But you knew each other by name?"

"It took me a moment to remember who the mayor of Sagaasi is, but once I saw her I knew she was from the Shaa family, which let me narrow it down," she explains. "And I'm...well, there aren't that many noblewomen in the rangers. She probably looked me up when she heard we were coming."

There's something there that she's not saying, but I'm not sure what it is, exactly.

"Why go through all the effort?"

"That greeting we did is customary," she says. "Introducing each other like that. Admitting you don't know one of your 'cousins' isn't rude or anything, just...embarrassing."

"They just expect you to memorize the entire clan?" I ask. "Isn't that like, a ton of people?"

She shrugs. "I've never had trouble with it. And we're only really expected to know the ones within our own generation—plus maybe our parents."

I'm guessing that's still a lot of people, and not everybody has Talla's memory magic.

"Anything I should know?" I ask, getting more nervous by the minute about this dinner.

"I don't think so?" Talla hedges. "We can just blame any gaffes on you being a foreigner and still learning the language."

Gosh, I hope it's that easy. Talla's reassurance does nothing to ease the butterflies in my stomach. This is supposed to be my forte, dang it! Why am I getting cold feet now? I'm fine! We'll be fine.

I hope they have drinks at this dinner.