Zajoura (II)

The ride upon Kuni outside of Gueorge’s palace wasn’t eventful so much in the normal sense, but in the sheer strangeness of how people interacted with her. Her vaguely insect-like mount that had been a common sight in the land of her birth, and exceedingly rare in the Northern Isles, caused great alarm among the common people as she and her men walked down the street. Cries of fear and disgust were common.
“What have your savage folk done with that camel?” She heard one voice say. Another said “where can you get one of those from?” They didn’t understand the customs of her people, or even those of the northern isles that they once shared an empire with. Kuni’s eyes turned a grey colour, indicating her low fear, with all four eyes darting around for a threat. Despite her ferocious appearance, Zajoura knew Kuni was no beast from mythology out to devour their children, Monsters were a matter of limited perspective, not reality.
Except for them...
Now the streets cleared as she neared her old crew. Recruiting them hadn’t been hard in truth. Her old friend Hirotek was happy to just get some work, even if it was investigating some petty criminal the guards hadn’t managed to find yet. The city watch was decadent, that was plain to everyone, and as much as Gueorge tried to romanticise the city, it was easy to see much could be done under a more effective leader. Perhaps that was why she and her crew were being hired? Foreigners with no connection to local politics often made for loyal guards and workers, as they had no stakes in the political scene. Or at least that’s how it is supposed to be.
Hirotek welcomed her lovingly as he always did, letting his big toothy grin come out as he grabbed and squeezed. He’s being harder than usual, she thought as she embraced her old friend, and mentor. He’s been struggling again. “It’s great to see you in your inquisitor uniform! You totally look the part!” He looked at her with a great big grin, though while there was genuine joy in his eyes, she noticed he had a look of exhaustion in him. “So, Captain, what’s our mission here?” Like her, he was dressed in inquisitor armour, though hers had a golden tint to it. The army of inquisitors was a fine outfit of scale armourwith a linen jerkin and trousers, for the weather was too hot to wear leather consistently, and yellow streaks around the helm of the helmet, though she preferred not to wear it unless absolutely necessary. As well as her ‘billhook’ as the locals called it, she was gifted a curved sword in case she lost her primary weapon. An Aramsher as they called it, the blade had a curve around the upper half, while the crossguard had teeth on it like a shark, curved in to lock in any blade that met it.
“I see you’re in good shape too, old friend.” She replies to him. It was refreshing to speak in the tongue of the northern isles again instead of Phurzia or the dreadfully hard Azori. The tongues of their old lands would have worked too, but she didn’t know Nudic as fluently as she’d have liked. “I see you’ve taken well to the role.”
“Hardly.” Hirotek replied. “It’s hard work doing just the training. These Azori love their hard work!” He rolled his head back in laughter. “I certainly wish I was back sailing and beating pirates at sea; that was easy compared to this.” They both laughed now. It was true. No need for secrecy, no need for unnecessary pleasantries, just take what you needed and protect it. But it wasn’t where they were now.
“You know what our job is, Hiro, and we will do it to the best of our ability. We seek out crimes the guards can not solve, root out corruption and reveal any plots. You went through the training too, didn’t you?” She glanced around seeing if any of the traders or townspeople cared too much. A young bull centaur walked by her and glanced away, before staring at Kuni as she paced behind. His distraction gave him the misfortune of stepping in Zuni’s dung, much to his cursing.
“Of course, Captain. But I’d like to at least know who were going after. It can’t be a petty thief, can it? The city’s guard are for that, surely?” Zajoura nodded.
“There’s been a murder of a court official within the last few hours. We need to investigate the scene of the crime and come to a conclusion of who is responsible. It could just be a mugging gone wrong, perhaps, but I imagine Gueorge has something else in mind, though he hasn’t outright said it.” This was certainly warranted as to be suspicious over, and so she went over to the place the others had said it had taken place.
After a left turn, the street was blocked off by three guards, two in the scarlet robes of Il Azori, complete with ostrich feathers around the belt, and the third in the dark green and gold of the Dominion, with a helmet shaped like one of the black swans of the Olma river. Clearly this one was of higher rank, and had come from the capital itself! He approached her.
“Of course.” He was an older man than the guards, already greying in his beard and hair. “I see you’re here for the body and the scene?” Zajoura nodded. The young guards marvelled at Kuni, but the captain ignored it. “Well, it is about time that magister Z’Tarek’s death were investigated by inquisitors. We’ve established a parameter of ten metres or thirty two feet in each direction from the murder. Due to these fools, they’d gotten the Brave Tribunal so stupefied, he woke up in the horse’s stable this morning. I need you to find any clues on the body as to rescues of death, and any trails that can be made.” Zajoura nodded and motioned Hirotek and the others to search the area.
The most obvious issue was the large blood smear leading right up to the body. “Clearly he’s been dragged here already bleeding before he was killed.” She said with suspicion
“Or the body was moved to an easier location that stands out.” Hirotek threw his opinion in. There was definitely merit to this, though the edge of the plaza wasn’t the most public place to mount a corpse. If only there was a way to find out who exactly had dealt the killing blow, she thought.
“Why would they? Unless the killer wanted to send some sort of message. Zajoura worked her way up to the corpse. Z’Tarek was, like Guoerge, a sunburnt pink in skin colour, if paled by Death, instead of the copper skin of the Azori people. He had a thin face that felt off on his body which was quite wide at the hips, and he lacked any hair on his head bar a long black moustache dropping down below his chin. He wore orange robes with purple linen, and one sandals was missing. He was clutching his gut as he had tried to keep them in after being stabbed. But they did not help him, for his throat was also cut. “His skin paled and his eyes dry and rolled back suggests he had been killed in the night, though no one noticed apparently.” The gods only know how, she thought as it was confusing how none of the guards or townspeople noticed the murder of a state official in the middle of the night. This must been a political killing, Zajoura was certain. Z’Tarek’s head tilted toward the pathway, as if he was looking at someone, or something, in his final moments. She put her fingers over to close his eyelids.
Her mother had once told her that if a man’s eyes were left open when he died, then he could never truly rest, and would wonder across the world for eternity, without ever being able to do anything. She always feared her father had faced that when Vodronei, the commander of the K’Voth army had impaled him, which was the last memory she had of her father when he had slowed down the monster to protect her. The commander put her train of thought back to the present.
“Well”, the officer questioned. “That makes these fools partly responsible for last night.” He looked to his men, who eyes each other nervously. “They will be disciplined appropriately. Is there anything else you’ve noticed here?” Zajoura got up from her crouched position.
“It seems that he was first stabbed over there.” She pointed to where the blood was driest, in a patch. “A stab to the belly, very painful.” She was glad she had to speak Phurzic and not Azor with the captain, while he translated to the soldiers. “He tried to drag himself, or perhaps was dragged by the attacked, where his throat was cut. His head suggests he was looking at-“ she noticed small black droplets leading in from the corpse now, having been too focussed on the body. “It seems the killer had gone in that direction, over the plaza, there’s a blood trail. If myself and Hirotek can track the trail, it may lead us somewhere.”
“Excellent,” the captain announced. “I shall have my men scout the area for any more clues here.” He took off his glove. Zajoura thought she saw something white move past rapidly, but it was probably just another cloud. “I forget my formalities, my lady. My name is Captain Brandon Kant, commander of the Forty-third chapter of the Grypholyth guard. At your service. Perhaps at the end of the day, I could ask you to visit my house? My family would love to meet someone from Ikr!” He took out his hand, and she reluctantly shook it.
She let out a little laugh. “I am no lady, captain Brandon.” She said with courtesy. “And I’m afraid the Kingdoms of Ikr may not even exist anymore.” She said as the joy went from her voice to numbness. The captain’s face lessened, and he let go of her hand.
“Well, best be on your way.” He turned to Hirotek as well. “And you as well, newcomer.” He whistled and he and the other guards went about patrolling the immediate parameter. It was clear it was Zajoura’s job to try and find who the real killer was. And that was what she would do. As she turned from the body toward the street, she noticed something behind it. When Brandon has left, she pushed the body a little. Just behind was an orange stripe painted onto the wall and another on Z’Tarek’s back. Perhaps it’s a message. She wanted to call back to Brandon, but decided it wasn’t too important. I can always tell him later, she thought.
The blood didn’t go for too long, but a trail of dirt could be seen from the crime that looked too old to be recent, though it was distinctive from other footprints they had been made. Zajoura has spent years tracking men and beasts in the northern isles, so she knew what to recognise from tracks and footprints better than most. She just needed to know where they were going. A cat went in the way of one of the tracks, and she had to shoow it away to see the skid that was made. It was clear the killer had gotten on some sort of cart to escape, though Zajoura wasn’t aware what type, or how fast it was going. She needed to figure that out sooner rather than later.
She whistled, and within a few moments, Kuni arrived. Hirotek always marvelled at how far away she could hear her master could hear her, no matter how many times. Zajoura waved him on and they got on Kuni’s back. Zajoura then said in her mother tongue “jei har sarat buyi kni” and the beast began to sniff around. Each of the four little arms around her small beaked mouth had hairs and small holes they acted as a human’s nostrils are, but far more effective, and could pick up scents more easily. Food, water, spices, predators, ships. And blood.
Crouching her head down to the skids, Kuni swept her head side to side as her lower arms felt around the area and her upper arms arched up into the air, getting a good whiff. Her long legs squatted into a near sprawl as she chased the scents, and her tail arched upward. Her eyes flowed several shades before settling on blue, a colour of knowledge for her kind. A scene was found! “Good girl”, she patted her mount on the underside of its neck. It started to track the scent around the corners.
“So,” Hirotek started, “-our first assignment and it’s already a conspiracy! I was hoping for some simple guards’ work or something, but it seems the gods don’t favour us today.” That was indeed a shame.
“That it would seem. But you know they pay good wages for this job, and we’re already doing a better job than the idiots in the guard. Where do they even raise them from?” Hirotek laughed at that.
”Maybe they’re the ones not fit to serve in the army. Too weak, too untrained, or too dumb!” They both giggled there as Kuni went round a corner, with merchants and townspeople staring at the unfamiliar mount. She knew most of the people there were suspicious of her and thought her as a ‘dirty’ freak because of her culture and her appearance. The Dominion was supposed to be a place of diversity and acceptance of different peoples, of humans, centaurs, Vrain and Yamachai, those who had wanted another chance. That is what she had promised her men when they came. It was secure here compared to where she had came from, but it was no paradise. She felt a sudden turn to the right from Kuni. A new scent, perhaps?
“You find something, girl?” The beast’s eyes turned yellow, meaning approval. “She says yes!” She turned and smiled to Hirotek. Now Kuni started to follow.
“That’s good news, for a change.” Her old mentor remarked. “Now we can find this bloody-“
Kuni stopped to a halt. Something was wrong. She turned to see what.
A roar was heard.
Kuni had had never seen a camel up close before, and not had it seen her. It backed up, hissed and neighed at the larger and armoured Kuni, who shrieked in response. The camel spat in one of Kuni’s eyes.
Zajoura didn't know what happened in the next few seconds, but she found herself on the ground, with her arm aching. Fortunately, her soft backpack had saved her fall. There was panic all around, as she saw Kuni running off down the town square near the big mermaid fountain. Shit, she thought. As she turned round, she saw her friend clutching his arm and groaning. It must have been broken. “Hold on, Hiro, I’ve got you.” She assured him as she crawled over to hold him up as they got up on their feet again. She sighed, as now Kuni was out of sight. Finding her shouldn’t be too hard though, as one of her kind was not something the people of Azor or all of the isles were familiar with.
She carried her friend through the marketplace. Many people looked, but many looked with contempt and suspicion, ignoring her pleas for aid. An elderly woman tried to help, but she was too weak to help carry Hirotek’s broad body.
“Hold on!” A voice with an accent Zajoura didn’t recognise came up behind them. She looked to see it was a black haired she-centaur, clearly a labourer. “I can lift your friend!” Zajoura relented and pulled her friend up onto the centaur’s back. It took some time, but they eventually went up. “I’m an alchemist. Should your...friend need it, I can provide care for his arm.”
“Thank you, my sister.” To call another your sibling after receiving charity was the normal custom in her homeland, though she had hardly had the chance to after her life as a pirate captain. The centaur seemed puzzled though. “My name is Zajoura of the clan Inhula, Inquisitor of Il Azori. I will be in your debt for this!”
“You are very welcome, lady Zajoura.” The centaur replied, happy at her gratitude. Why do they call me lady? She probably didn’t mind that much really. The centaur walked in the direction that Kuni seemed to have run off to, clearly eager to help with that too. “My name is Solvina, I came from Morlonya if the accent didn’t give it away!” She laughed. “I’ve been up here in the north for eight years now. In all my years, I’ve certainly never seen anything like your mount before. I can only guess you’ve come from elsewhere by your-“ she hesitated. “-culture.” She’d never seen someone from Ikr before, that was clear. The way it was phrased did leave a foul taste though, as Zajoura pondered how her mount could have escaped so quickly over something as trivial as a camel.
Fortunately, Kuni’s tracks were very distinctive. Two-clawed feet with a small pad at the back, on top of which the poisonous spurs lay. Very different o the footprint of horse, camel or livestock. Zajoura pointed to wherever the footprints showed, while holding Hirotek in her arms to steady him as he moaned over his own arm.
They went through the end of the market to the Orange Plaza, where citrus trees grew in abundance, and was the home of the Bank of Azor, and ahead of her, the three spiked towers of the Shard Palace, home of both the King of Il Azori and the governor, Alexo ‘the Stick’ Klein, the true power in the kingdom, answering directly and only to the Decarchy in Phoz, or Forkton, or whatever they call it now. She’d heard too many names for that city to remember the most ‘accurate’ one. Regardless, it was a beautiful palace, made of solid marble laced with gold-painted granite, and with the Children of the Moon guarding them, their black and silver armour and crescent shaped crest gleaming in the sunlight. They served as the elite guard for the elite members of Azori society, even if they were on the Dominion’s payroll in the modern world.
One of them came to Solvia, a relatively young man with a long square beard and a hooked nose, with one nostril higher than the other. “What appears to be the issue here, centaur? What are you looking around the street here for?” He squinted at Zajoura and Hirotek. And who are those on your back?”
“Well,” Solvia started, “-they are looking for their mount which has escaped them. It’s from Ikr, as are the two on my back.” She pointed at Hiro. “The man has broken his arm. He needs attention.”
“I see.” He turned to Zajoura. “I see you’re inquisitors? How did foreigners like yourselves get a position like that? Did you steal them?” He seemed ready to call over his fellows.
“I’m under orders from Gueorge himself to investigate the murder of Z’Tarek . It’s beliefed to be a political murder based on the circumstances. He considers us competent enough.” That should shut the fool up, she thought.
“Ah....” The Moonman said. “Right. It seems I was harsh on you.” He looked at Solvia again. “It is just our standard search, citizen. With everything that is happening now, you can’t blame us for being cautious. There are still those in this kingdom who call the king and his line ‘baseborn puppets of the governer’ even after all this time.” It seems pretty accurate to me, Zajoura thought. Saying that out loud would lose her her tongue at the very least. “Well, it seems one of my fellows claims to have seen a strange beast going towards the Bank. Just down the-“ a screech interrupted him.
She looked up and saw a four winged white shape. A Great White Griff! One of the large griffs of the islands she had heard about, and here one was heading in the direction of-another one! She heard her own breath whoosh out. Two were going in the direction of the bank now. That made her curious.
Solvia spoke out. “They’re out again, I see.” Zajoura let go of Hirotek’s arm upon hearing that. As if seeing such majestic creatures was normal to her! Yet Zajoura nor Hirotek had ever seen or heard such things in their nineteen days they’d spent in the city. That made her suspicious. Solvia must clearly have noticed, for she looked back. Despite her wide mouth, tube ears, and great big nostrils, there was a striking beauty to Solvia, her big blue eyes standing out from the browns of all the other humans and centaurs in the city and the surrounding country. “You may be closer to your friend than you think.” She said with a smile on her face. “I’ll take care of your friend. I’m on the yellow-painted stable four houses off from the bank!” Zajoura went off and was on her own again, looking for Kuni.
Zajoura saw in front of the bankers’ plaza was her own mount, having finally slowed down, but not calm. It was surrounded by the white griffs, hounding round her like wolves, chirping and dragging their front paws in the dirt. They were big even up close. Each had a primary wingspan of six metres and secondary one of four and a half, with the latter shorter but broader than the former. The bodies were about the size of a large dog’s, though with long legs and a flattened, tear drop-shaped body. They had bigger heads than they appeared to on the heraldry too, with beaks and small teeth inside. They squawked at her until they moved aside to let her through. She now noticed an old man in white robes, and with equally white hair next to Kuni, trying to calm her down. She noticed he was missing an ear and his left hand, and had several scars, long healed, implying he was once a soldier. The man noticed her and turned. He smiled, showing his wrinkled face and kind eyes, like a child’s favourite grandfather.
“Well, you must be this inquisitor I’ve heard about!” The man said. “Grypoth Hyron Birchwood at your service! Or I was at least.” She looked to her left as one of the white griffs came close to her, with a low hiss. Don’t be alarmed. I’ve been training with white griffs like this all my adult life. Hence why I was.a Grypoth in Phoz’ army in my youth. They won’t harm you or your...strange horse?” He turned to the griffs, particularly one with a small gold crest on the top of its head. “They’re not as large or bright as wild whites, but they certainly are a sight, aren’t they?”
“Certainly.” Zajoura stepped up to comfort Kuni, and asked more. “How did you acquire them?” She ran her hand along her friend’s face. The segmented armour shone black to many, but in the light, it was truly a deep blue. Her eye colour show she was alarmed, but as Zajoura touched her, her eyes faded to a colour of assurance, and soon comfort.
He chuckled. “Do you not know? Men trained with griffs are especially well sought after in the Dominion’s army. They can carry messages, scout the enemy, drop rocks from great heights or even maul to death. They’re not like some dog you can latch onto you though; no, you have to start young or...” he trailed off. “Well, it’s good to finally meet another with a strange beast at their side. What exactly is she?” Zajoura had no clue how the man knew at first glance that Kuni was a she, but he went along with it.
“She is a nutzel, one of the most common tamed beasts of Ikr. As you can see,”-Zajoura pointed to Kuni’s underside, where her last pair of limbs were tucked under the jointed tail, “she is incubating her eggs. I look forward to raising her offspring alongside her.” It was true. She saw nine eggs were still in the nest that was Kuni’s small back legs. Two had fallen out in the rough journey, and a third had been cracked beyond repair the day before. The larva has not developed it’s skeleton yet at this point, so it couldn’t survive outside the egg.
“I’ve never been to Ikr myself, I’ve heard wonders about it. Is it true that they build triangles instead of towers, and the Pit of Chokanamba is as fine a sight as-“ she didn’t want to hear of her homeland.
“I don’t remember most of my homeland.” She said with anguish in her. “Those times are gone, I’m afraid, my kingdom and it’s neighbours have fallen years ago. I don’t know if any men even live there anymore.” That changed his face, as he now seemed sad from hearing the news. “Why do you think so many people of Ikr have fled to the northern isles in the last twenty years? You wouldn’t believe us though if you heard why. None of you would.” She looked around. “Not yet.” She always thought that one day or another, the monsters that had destroyed her people and killed her father would cross the seas and lay waste to where she was. One day she would fight them again.
“I didn’t mean to earn your offence, inquisitor,” Hyron said in return. “I know what it’s like to experience loss, otherwise I would not be here today. I am sorry for what befell your people and I hope nothing like it happens to our own. Anyway,” he turned to Kuni. “Your...nutzel is unharmed, and very pleased to see you. I hope we can meet again under better circumstances.”
Zajoura sighed, though she was happy to have Kuni by her side again. She whispered. “Try not to square up to a camel again, friend!” A saddened squeak came from her mount. “Time to lead you up to Solvia’s place. I’ve got an investigation to carry out.” Kuni bowed a little and Zajoura got on her saddle and rode back, as the white griffs parted to let her pass.
She had never heard or seen of this orange stripe before, and it would be up to her to figure it out. Was it some personal vendetta against Z’Tarek of a rival family? Some disgruntled commoner? Or was there something greater, more dangerous going on beneath that simple symbol? Perhaps Solvia would know more?

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Zajoura investigates a political murder in Ul-Letoris.