I nodded.
‘Good,’ they replied, and then pulled me to my feet by my arm. Raising their voice once again, they called out, ‘And do not come back to this establishment! We do not need your sort in here.’
They threw me out onto the street, and, in my drunken state, I only just about managed to remain on my feet. I looked around. The city was emptier now, only a few stragglers still walking or shuttling about. At this time in the early morning, you might even describe the atmosphere as peaceful. I could take in the sights and enjoy the slightly cooler temperature - as the sun was only just rising against the horizon, hidden still behind the tall stronghold walls. Suddenly the city seemed like an oasis of calm.
I walked south, towards the perimeter gate, hoping to get a view of the wastelands beyond the stronghold’s wall. As I approached, the guard towers loomed over me, two monoliths of such great height as would strike fear in the hearts of any invading force. Not that the Arellians, as far as I knew, stood any chance against the Iyr, were they to venture out of their humble lands.
At the base of the towers, there was a transmat station, presumably intended to save the guardsmen from having to climb the hundreds (if not thousands) of steps to the top. There didn’t seem to be anyone guarding it, nor were there any signs saying not to use it, so I stepped in for a look at the lands beyond.
The transmat whirred into life and shot me upwards at a rate I’d never experienced before.
Weren’t there laws about these kinds of things?
Reaching the top in only a few seconds, I began to feel nauseous - although it was possible that the alcohol was as much to blame as the transmat. I plodded out of the transmat area and held myself against a nearby pillar, counting on it to hold me upright.
A lone guard looked warily on - but said nothing.
When I’d largely recovered from the journey up, I looked out through the glass. As far as the eye could see, desert dunes paved the land of the beyond, looking almost as though they were the waves of the great seas of Terra. But, no, they were still, peaceful, and proudly golden. The sun, rising to the south-east, cast shadows from the great dunes, peppering the land with darker patches, and illuminated small Arellian settlements in the distance. Compared to the stronghold, they seemed like nothing more than villages, like small tribal encampments like in the Terran days of old. Conversely, the few Iyr buildings that stood a few kilometres outside the city limits were tall, piercing the skyline, spoiling an otherwise beautiful view.
I remained up here for a few more minutes, until the glare of the guard became excruciating, and then prepared myself for the transmat back down. It didn’t seem so bad on the return journey; I only had to rest for a few seconds at the bottom.
As I rested, I heard a commotion in the distance. Looking down the road, I saw two guards hauling a person along by the arms. I didn’t recognise the species; blue, lanky, their hands in weird proportions compared to the width of their limbs. This blue person didn’t seem to be resisting in any way, only meekly submitting to being dragged along.
I followed at a distance, this situation having piqued my curiosity. What crime had this person committed to deserve such a treatment?
Probably spilt someone’s drink.
When the guards reached the perimeter of the city, they threw the person onto the ground, in much the same way as I had earlier been thrown out by the bartender.
I suspected that I had skimmed over the section of the Z’h’ar guidepage that referred to the Iyr’s hobbies:
“The Iyr, a quiet people, typically enjoy throwing people around and just being generally lairy.”
‘Go. Back to where you belong,’ one of the guards muttered at their victim - and then turned to leave them, alone, on the ground.
They were an Arellian, then, this blue creature. The guidepage hadn’t had a picture of them; presumably, this wasn’t because such an image didn’t exist, but because the Arellians were such an unimportant footnote in terms of information about Z’h’ar.
The Arellian stood up - but only once the guards had turned their back on them and left them well alone.
I looked on at the Arellian for a moment, as they stood, motionless, eyes surveying the city in front of them as though they were considering coming back in.
They caught me staring at them and we held eye contact for a few moments, before they turned, shoulders slumped, to trudge back out into the wastelands.
I thought about approaching them, but, what with all the trouble earlier for something as innocent as asking a question, I thought it best to not be seen associating with an apparent criminal. Instead, I walked up to a local salesman, who was pitched up outside the city gates and seemed to be renting shuttle-bikes to clueless tourists.
‘How much?’ I asked them, knowing better than to try opening with small-talk with an Iyr.
‘Three thousand units,’ he replied.
‘To buy?’ That was rather cheap, in fact, I’d thought.
‘To rent. One rotation.’
‘Oh,’ I replied, not bothering to hide the disappointment on my face. ‘Bit rich for me, I’m afraid.’
‘In that case,’ the Iyr went on, ‘We shall do a deal. Three thousand units for two rotations.’
‘Oh, we’re haggling? I can do that! Three thousand units for seven rotations?’
‘No. Not seven.’
‘For… five rotations?’ I asked, hesitantly.
‘Three.’
I remained silent for a second, prompting the merchant to continue, ‘And I will throw in a free Guran. My partner made too many for me. I am on a diet.’
I shook my head. ‘No, thanks, keep the rat. Three thousand units, for three days, and you tell me how to get to Te’r’ok.’
‘Deal,’ the Iyr replied. ‘The easiest way: follow the road
