quick little thing

Rumblings told of unrest down the slopes of the mountain, where the city of Angla-Tyrit was growing restless. Further up, nestled in the rock, the city of Thyodiran weighed its options, and decided that the rumblings must mean something.

And so they sent their Vicus-Mit, their advisor judge and voice, down the mountain to the lake city. Wedged between the warring siblings of Angla-Tyrit and Thyodiran, the lake city was notoriously apolitical. Free trade and being out from the under the thumb of religion or government were the largest concerns, and to most it would have been a futile task to engage the lake folk in much of anything. But the Thyodian Vicus-Mit was well-known for the sway he held, both in his way of persuasion and his many, many owed favors.

Ziss was old, older than most on the planet. He had walked this unworn trail down the mountain many times, for many different reasons, and he had no worries about walking it again. Similarly, he had little worry about walking into the lake city unguarded; he had many lifetimes’ worth of connections, with generations owing him and the favors his pulled. He figured he could, on occasion, call on a few of these.

“I don’t understand why we’re going like this.” Behind him jogged his ward, Noel Acton. He was young, dropped unceremonious and alone onto the planet of Vride Skriv with mumblings about family affairs and an incident on neighbor-planet Motochyne. Ziss, intrigued by what little scraps of the ‘incident’ he had heard, had taken the kid in. But those interests quickly faded as no evidence of them ever came about, and their relationship had fallen amicably into more familial territory.

“I have a funny feeling about going down there,” Noel said again. He had been saying this repeatedly during the walk, usually with the intent of heading back to Thyodiran.

“'Funny feelings’ do not get in the way of our business,” Ziss said, looking over his shoulder. The boy’s white eyes blinked blankly back at him.

“Mine do,” Noel grumbled. And this had some truth to it, as his funny feelings usually ended up being very well warranted. But sometimes they weren’t, and Ziss was banking on the latter. He needed his contacts in the lake city awake and ready to spring should Angla-Tyrit start making moves up the mountain, funny feelings be damned.

“You can tell me all about these feelings later, Mr. Acton.” And they kept walking.