Magus Star Rising

He who harnesses the litha will conquer all.

PUMAN EXPRESSION

Guessing Game

The litha blade burned with a cool heat. Kanoshon looked at its glowing gemstones, lost in thought. He stood under a darkened portico at a busy intersection off Yharria Main, the central artery of the bazaar. Columns wrought with floral designs and winged spirits supported the portico’s roof, the archway to a business front housing a law firm. At least that’s what the sign above the door proclaimed.

Though busy and crowded (preparations were well under way for the Magus Star festival), no one in the street took notice of him. He blended expertly into the shadows of the portico’s overhanging roof plus the excitement generated by such an eagerly anticipated celebration relegated him to just another exotic visitor. There might be the casual second-glance but nothing to cause any concern. A slight casting of his aura-projection also deterred any undue attention.

He gripped the knife by its handle, twirled it easily between his fingers and returned it to the sheath in his belt ring. Despite his bonding with the stones, he, and the others who carried such blades (or amulets or rings), never truly understood the power they wielded (although Kanoshon often thought the power wielded them).

His people had discovered the litha mines in the northern highlands after their relocation. Oh, the old tales spoke of ‘living jewels’ but those were legends, not taken seriously.

But, it had become obvious another race lived in the highlands at one time, long, long ago, and had been dust for a very long time as well. The Pumans’ ancient ancestors? No one really knew but those ancients mined the litha stones, that much had been discovered. Now, only a few, like himself, could bond with the gems, forging a relationship more mystical than real. At least to Kanoshon.

But Kanoshon’s people used the stones, surely not to their full capacity, but in a limited way to predict the weather, gauge the true intentions of travelers, settle village disputes, and locate fertile hunting grounds and farmland.

They never sold them or revealed the truth of their existence. But the old tales circulated anyway. Prudently, the Pumans kept the mines’ locations a secret.

The stones never communicated in any explainable way. The ‘thoughts’ or ‘information’ Kanoshon received from litha energy were more sensations or feelings, hunches or intuition. It was almost as if he possessed an extra sense that could give him another choice, another option, another way of seeing things. He had to make the final decision on whether to trust that option or not.

Such was the case now.

He stood across the street from an establishment called Ifko’s Atomic Bar and Grill. He grunted in amusement at the sound of that name. This was the bar Finora had remembered and, indeed, it did possess a funny, Terran sound. The litha blade’s warmth was insistent this was a place to continue the hunt, yet it wavered, as if undecided.

He could override the litha as he sometimes did but this time...

The inset gemstones began to glow; a steady heat directed Kanoshon’s gaze into the crowd. There... a Senitte fem passed by, clothed in a long cloak, hood up. As if sensing the Puman, she turned toward him and looked away. She appeared to be making her way to the bar.

Kanoshon stepped into the street. A memory had been triggered. He knew this fem. At least, he had seen her before.

“Pardon my rudeness, gentle fem,” he said as he overtook the Senitte. “May I have a word with you?”

The fem turned. Beautiful by Senitte standards, she, nevertheless, stared at him out of cold eyes. A hint of malevolence sparked as she looked him up and down, unafraid. Kanoshon sensed this one could be trouble.

“Ah,” she said softly, a slight smile sneaking up on her face. “Dwanta. Do I know you?”

She knew the honorific. Interesting. It was true then. this was the fem he had seen long ago as a cub, in the relocation camps. She had been with other visitors, other Senittes who professed to be concerned with the Pumans’ plight, and had come to offer medical aid and supplies. Children had accompanied them, younglings who were to help as well, and see first-hand the harshness of the camps so they wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes as their elders. They had all been frightened and repulsed.

Except for this one. Kanoshon remembered. His sense of her burned like a brand in his mind. She had been fascinated by it. The misery, hopelessness, pain, and death. Even as a child, she had reveled in it. He remembered the smile on her face, the curiosity, the anticipation of something entirely outside her experience.

What kind of adult had she become?

How strange the workings of P’ka to allow me to see her again, he thought. Why now? After all these seasons. “No,” he said, which was partly true. “We have never met. But I am in need of some information and I wonder if you might assist me.”

She smiled again. “That depends on what kind of help you require.”

Kanoshon pulled out the lasepic of his prey and displayed it. “Do you know this sentient?”

She looked at the pic, a brief rippling of surprise crossing her features. “A Terran,” she said, looking up. “No. I don’t know him.”

She is telling the truth, the Puman thought. But not entirely. Why? His mind analyzed the situation in a moment’s breath. On the surface, it might be said she was protecting his prey, that she and he were involved in some way. But something told him it was more than that. She is a manipulator, he thought, assessing her stance, her body language, the tone of her voice. An opportunist. She may have simply seen the Terran. She will hide whatever she knows and pursue this meeting with me to some attempted gain of her own.

He could force her to tell him what she knew but he only did that as a last resort. He could follow her to see if she might lead him to his prey but he suspected she would not do so directly. Her curiosity had been aroused and she would want to make a deal, now that she knew there was something going on she might be able to take advantage of.

A faint odor of perfume and sex emanated from her but Kanoshon didn’t think she was a courtesan. As she rearranged her cloak, he briefly caught sight of the Second Guild mark on her bare arm. It may be someone in her household knows my prey and has spoken to her of him, described him.

Besides, the litha energy held steady now and still directed him to the bar, encompassing the fem in its range.

“Why are you looking for this sentient?” the fem asked, pulling her cloak tightly about her.

“He is an old friend. We have business to discuss.”

“What kind of business? Perhaps I can help you. I have a few connections in the Yharria.” Another smile.

A bold one. Dangerously so. “Perhaps you can. I would appreciate any help you can give me and will make it worth your while.”

She looked toward the bar and then back at the Puman. “My name is Ladora. It’s much too crowded and noisy out here. I’m on my way to the bar across the street. I have a little business of my own there to conduct, different from what I usually do. Would you like to join me for a drink? We can talk a little more privately.” She smiled again with no fear.

Did her experience in the camp change her? he wondered. Or was a seed of this maliciousness already planted, waiting to sprout? Did she use that to hide her true nature from her employers?

“Of course. I thank you.”

“And you are?” She continued to stare at him, an invitation of sorts in her eyes.

“Kanoshon.” He didn’t give his name lightly but he sensed this one would have no use for it. Her fast-living type’s life spans were short. He was surprised she had survived this long. That, too, spoke of her resourcefulness.

“Kanoshon.”

She nodded as if in appreciation. “A good Puman name. I like it. Come.”

Swallowing his sudden distaste, he followed her to the bar’s entrance.