The Mountain Dancer

Chapter 4: Rekness & Dreff

Rekness sat on the gloomy edge of a massive cistern, studying the pattern of the whirlpool within. He heard a strangled cry from down below and clambered down quickly to find a man crumpled against another cistern.

The person's throat had been slit from ear to ear.

In all his sixteen years, Rekness had never imagined such a sight. "Whoah," he said, edging closer to the corpse. He had never seen a dead body outside of a funeral, and never one so young, nor rendered as such. The victim looked to be about forty. Blood soaked the man's shirt and most of his trousers. It was starting to pool around his butt. The smell of it was the worst; Rek's sensitive nose drank it in, and he was both fascinated and grossed out.

Rek knew that the deceased belonged to the Statue Sect. Both the man's birthright and scholarright crystals were glowing green from his chest, casting an eerie glow. They were both darkening quickly, and soon Rek was returned to the customary dull grey light of the drainwork's interior.

It occurred to him then that there had to be someone else nearby, unless the victim had somehow done this to himself. Rek paused to consider if a self-rendering was possible. Maybe, but why? He shook his head - why people did stuff, the reasons they said certain things... not his particular area of expertise. He liked finding things and following things. He was good at that, and used his skill now.

Advanced Wayfaring Artwork was not a common practice in Massus, but it was "well respected," whatever that meant. He just knew he could do it. As he focused, he both saw and smelled the path the other person had taken after rendering the dead guy's throat. It led away from the deeper parts of the drainworks and toward the exit. Disappointed at the chance to adventure into the more interesting areas of the complex, Rekness trotted lightly along the trail that lit up his mind.

The drainworks were located in the rowdier part of Tomecliff Pass. Rekness jogged past several community houses where the evening's wonderments were in full swing. Loud voices, bright lights and spicy scents flowed out of all of them as the sunworking population downcycled for the night. Twice, drink-addled strangers called out to him in greeting. He heralded them back but didn't stop for conversation, as he sometimes did. Conversation was expected of the Crown Artyss, old Minyel had told him, and he had been instructed to get good at it before the Dance. And to learn to read the subtle scents that wafted off people so as to discern their intent, blah blah blah. He was on a mission now though, so that crap would have to wait.

He turned a corner and saw that his Wayfaring path veered into a family house at the end of the street. The road ran down a gentle slope that continued all the way across town to the Academy. As he jogged down the road, he could see most of Tomecliff Pass spread out before him, a proud collection of square and sturdy Massese architecture - buildings and houses carefully cut and placed to produce and orderly gridlike arrangement, both vertically and horizontally. It sort of reminded him of the sugar cube stacks often found (and raided) in the Academy's kitchens.

Endless traffic rumbled along the wide main road far off to his left. It snaked towards and then through the towering mass of the Academy's central spire. Two huge wings flanked the spire, punctuating the big town. On the other side, The road turned into the bridge that carried the traffic south and into the forest, though the Academy blocked any view of that.

The sky was darkening, but there was still enough light to see the outline of the battlements along the top of the wings. He thought of the odd girl he'd bumped into up there a few days ago. He was pretty sure she was one of the pupils, though he didn't know her name. He smiled; she had been cute, though she hadn't said much. He supposed he could have tried a bit harder at conversation there too.

Rek arrived at the family house. The scent he had locked onto was strong here, and the door handle practically glowed when he focused his Wayfaring Artwork on it. He looked around to see if there were any Fistshields nearby that could offer some assistance. Seeing none, he paused for a moment to send up a shard that described what he had found at the cistern and where he was now. Replies came back almost immediately, tickling his nose, but he ignored them for now and shoved into the family house. He was curious.