“We’ll go there.” I pointed to the village. “It’ll give us shelter and somewhere to rest before we reach the temple. Plus, if anyone’s still living there, they might be able to tell us what’s going on inside the city.”
We headed back down the hill and along the road. Kumi stayed particularly close to me. Her face was constantly furrowed, her normally open posture abandoned as she closed in on herself.
“It’s all too dry,” she explained. “It makes me feel like I’m missing a part of myself.”
Her discomfort only grew as we entered the Vigorous Zone. There were signs of human habitation here, but like the distant village, it had long ago been abandoned. Old adobe farmhouses with fallen in roofs, their outhouses and barns sun-bleached, their doors hanging open to reveal the emptiness within. Drystone walls that had once marked the divisions between fields were falling apart, their stones littered on the fields like large, sterile seeds. The skeleton of an ox, half its bones carried away by scavengers, lay next to a dried-up well, the hollows of its eyes staring at us as we walked past.
Instead of circling birds and desert mammals, the movement here was of a more elemental form. Beetles with stone carapaces and crystal-tipped pincers crawled over a half-collapsed outhouse, tearing off wooden scraps and carrying them away for some purpose of their own. I thought I saw a large gray rat scurrying along a gully, but when it turned its head toward us, the face was packed dirt, the eyes jagged lumps of night black coal.
It was like walking through the aftermath of an apocalypse.
“It can’t always have been like this,” I said. “I mean, otherwise, why would anyone have farmed here?”
“Gonki used to be very different,” Vesma said. “Back in the Feuding Clans Era, the Gonki produced some of the most powerful warriors in the world. Earth Augmented mercenaries sailed from the Hyng’ohr docks to every port on the ocean, hired out to the highest bidders, and came home loaded down with gold, jade, and silk. Some feuds were cut short by Gonki intervention bringing victory to one side or the other. More became drawn out as the desperate losers pooled all their resources and fought back with the aid of a Gonki Granite Legion.
“Back then, this farmland helped sustain the craftsmen who armed and armored the legions, while the warriors feasted on imported food and novelties brought back from their travels. The land flourished and its people with it. In the Vigorous Zone, a delicate balance was maintained between farming for corn and farming for cores.
“Then came the Wars of Unification. Early on, many Gonki sided with the First Emperor and grew rich on the winnings he brought. But as he asserted order across the provinces, the Gonki started to see a problem. The First Emperor brought bloodshed, but he left behind peace, and for the Gonki, there was no profit in peace. Slowly but surely, they united in a new purpose: opposition to the Empire.
“Once the Gonki united, other provinces gathered behind them. For those that resisted the First Emperor’s laws or wished to cling to their power, this was the last great opportunity to stand. Idealistic temples set on freedom, dark cults who feared justice, and lords clinging to their power joined together in an unlikely alliance around the might of the Gonki. Of course, they paid a price, because the Gonki never fought without a price, but the warriors of this valley had never fought for so little pay or with such uncompromising determination.
“As the Emperor advanced, the Free Alliance fought a long, bitter retreat, until at last, the war reached the home of the Gonki themselves. Here, outside the walls of Hyng’ohr, they made their last great stand. But though the Gonki were great warriors, most of the provinces had joined the Empire by then, bringing with them their champions and Augmenters. The Alliance was smashed, and though the Emperor showed remarkable mercy, the Gonki lost too many warriors to retain their position of power. They were never the same again.”
“Wow, wow, wow,” Kegohr said. “How many books have you read exactly?”
Vesma shrugged. “Too many to count.”
“I know exactly how many I’ve read.” Kegohr held up his hands. “It helps if you keep the number to less than 10 because then, you never have to worry about losing count.” He elbowed me and roared with laughter.
“He must be joking,” Kumi whispered.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure he can count past 20.”
“After Vesma’s tale, I don’t think this is the time for humor.”
“Humor is exactly what we need,” I said. “It’s why comedians always joke about atrocities.”
“Comedians?” Kumi frowned at me.
“I suppose they’re like court jesters. You have those, right?”
“We have jesters, yes. But those who poke fun at atrocities don’t stay jesters for long.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. They become corpses all too quickly.”
It was my turn to laugh, but Kumi merely shook her head.
“I thought your tale was insightful,” she said to Vesma.
“Thank you.” The other woman smiled at her. “It’s good to be appreciated.”
I couldn’t help feeling a little elated at her response. Vesma had sometimes shown resentment for the other women in my life, despite theoretically accepting that she shared
