“That was a butcher shop where they sold orox meat,” Noam said. “A long time ago, I mean longer than when I was alive, herders spent months outside of the city making sure the oroxen grazedall summer and autumn. When I lived here, the oroxen were in fenced ranches, and there were much fewer than there used to be.”
Noam’s voice, as he explained from the room in her mind, was tinged with longing.
When she had dreamed on her journey to Danras, the hooves of countless oroxen had reverberated in the air. A woman with braided hair, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, had ridden a tall horse and opened that year’s herding season. In Fractica’s dream, Arienne had now met that woman—Yuma, the last Chief Herder of Danras.
“Let’s go,” she suddenly said.
“Where?”
“Where do you think? Eldred’s castle. She told us the real Yuma would be there. Do you know the way?”
“Northward… But it was turned into a legion fort. Not that it’d be anything at all now.”
Arienne took a firm grip on Aron’s reins. “Good. Then there’s no one to stand in our way.”
They had to leave the city and step out into the wasteland once more, so Arienne wrapped her head and lowered her hood. She slowly walked north down the wide street. Aron placidly followed, and she heard Noam softly singing the Ebrian lullaby to the baby.
The northern gates were so wide open that Arienne rolled her eyes at herself for not having entered this way when she first arrived. But outside of the gates was the devastated steppe again. How was she to feed Aron? They had arrived in Danras only days ago, but he already seemed a bit gaunt.
They were not close enough to see Eldred’s castle, but true to Imperial standards, the likely presence of a military outpost wasindicated by the traces of a relatively well-paved road. Surely at the end of it was the fortress.
“How far do we have to walk?” she asked Noam.
“I don’t know. Several days? Mersia is a big country.”
She would have to spend several nights in the wasteland before her then. When she had spent her first night here, the fear had been paralyzing. But she didn’t feel that way anymore. This was once a great grassland after all, where Yuma and her fellow herders had once fed their vast orox herd. Just the thought of that past dispelled her fear.
“Let’s make haste, then. Tell me more about this country on the way. About Mersia after the annexation.”
“Okay, but you know I don’t remember too well,” said Noam.
She scoffed, “Oh, I doubt you could ever forget the equinox feasts at the Sun Mound. All that dancing and singing! That tradition had survived, hadn’t it?”
Staring at Arienne, Noam replied, “Actually, yes, I do remember that. I hadn’t realized I did, until you mentioned it. But you say it like you’ve been there.”
Hadn’t she? But of course she hadn’t been to the feasts. She wasn’t there. She hadn’t even been born yet. But then why was she remembering? Perhaps the ghosts had left bits and pieces of their earthly lives inside her mind. Was that possible?
Arienne left Danras through the gates, heading back into the wasteland of burnt red. She walked until Danras was no longer visible, swapping memories with Noam all the way. Time flew by as she talked about Mersia and a Danras she somehow remembered with fondness. She loved the Mersia before the Empire, and sheloved the one after. Recollecting her false memories, she found herself longing for this country’s past as if it were her homeland.
The wind was calming down. When she sat to rest, Arienne undid the cloth that covered her face and took a deep breath. The air was dusty and dry, but she knew now that it had once been fragrant with the smell of grass. She took out a piece of hard bread from the packs on Aron’s back. Feeling Aron’s stare like a sting, she shared the bread and what little water she had left with him. She was on her feet before even swallowing her last bite, walking again. Noam sang as she walked, and listening carefully, she could just about hear Tychon’s soft breathing. Her mood lifted.
Evening came. Arienne could see nothing but wasteland in every direction. It was like being in the middle of the ocean where there was nothing to orient oneself. There were only the remains of the road the Empire had paved. She walked a little farther by the light of her lantern, and stopped once she found a small outcropping to tie Aron’s reins to. She unloaded the donkey, and as she spread out her bedding, Noam said, “You’re going to sleep here, where there’s nothing?”
“There’s nothing everywhere here.” Arienne shrugged.
“Come inside the room.”
She would’ve if Tychon were the only inhabitant. Her body outside might shiver, but the room in her mind had a soft, warm bed. But there was a man she barely knew in that room now.
She laid herself down on the bedding, feeling the hard ground underneath. “I don’t think so,” she grumbled. “If you weren’t a ghost, I would’ve kicked you out to sleep out here while I slept peacefully in there.”
“If I’m what’s bothering you, why don’t you make another room?”
This made her sit up. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She crossed her legs and warned, “There might be a bit of shaking. Let me know right away if anything seems wrong.”
Of course she could make another room. But why stop there? What if she made something bigger? Like a house? Or a large building, like the prefect’s residence or the Imperial Academy?
Then she thought of a large wooden building made of logs. Where had she seen this before? Every aspect appeared in perfect detail in her mind. She captured it all. The smell of slightly damp wood, the wall decorations made of animal horn, the staircase that wrapped around the outside of the building, the intricate dovetailing of the steps… A smell of steamed buns and flowers. Tychon’s babbling. Power glowed with warmth through her whole body.
