The morning mist hung cold and heavy over the city of gold as the sun crested the mountains. Its warmth cleansed the fog from the lowlands and city streets. The city sprung to life in the early hours. The once-empty streets now bustled with activity as market stalls and shops adjoined to apartments opened their doors. Inside Yohati’s estate, the gardens were thick with the perfume of exotic flowers, a scent powerful enough to attract spirits in staggering numbers. They congregated in numbers that gave Gaba’ké the impression it was purposeful.

It was with that thought that Gaba’ké, master Aginjigaade and lover of walks, slipped from the grounds and into the busy cobbled streets. As the guards closed the gates behind him, he cast his gaze up and down the street. His eyes met those of a large bearded man, who watched him with what Gaba’ké felt was a focused gaze. He quested out the man, curious, but he was no Aginjigaade. Nor was there one in the vicinity. That thought soothed his nervousness. I’m becoming a paranoid old man, he mused. Despite himself, he tucked his silver hair into his hood and set off down the cobbled street.

Gaba’ké held his cloak close as he maneuvered between bodies. This was his first solitary journey into the city and it was pleasant being a visitor to a new place. For the first time in a long time, Gaba’ké felt he had the freedom to take advantage of that fact. There would be no attempts made on his old friend or the young prince he thought of like a nephew. Yohati’s estate was fall better defended than Lord Anup’s had been.

It was a weight off his chest. There had been an uncountable number of days spent under vigilant watchfulness. He and Cask, working around the clock in shifts. It had gotten easier when Rolena was hired on, but it hadn’t solved the problem. The remaining loyal soldiers stationed to defend Lord Anup’s compound had been worked to destructive combination of fatigue and boredom. There had been too many days where Gaba’ké had focused only on his agindan, ensuring no powerful threat could emerge without his notice. And so it was with great solace that today, he could turn that part of his brain off, at least for a little while.

As he wandered, Gaba’ké noticed the mix of familiar and novel. Unlike Onera, Caso’s streets bent and twisted odd angles. They narrowed and widened without reason and only the main thoroughfares seemed to maintain any reasonable thought to design. Narrow crooks in the walls revealed tight alleyways and intricate side streets that made the city feel labyrinthian. Shop signs around this part of city were written predominantly in Tralang, but as Gaba’ké walked further from the coast, more and more of the foreign Casoyan script appeared in its place. Bizarre sights and sounds loomed around each corner. Strange clothes and accents. People wore ornaments of pearl and shell and beads. There were foreigners, like himself, in far greater numbers than he expected. They too came from afar and looked at the city with wonder.

No matter where Gaba’ké walked, the sparking blue domes of the Great Casoyan Auction House and the Palace revealed their beauty between the gaps in the dark stone tenements. The twin monoliths of Caso made navigating around the city simple. Between them and the fortress above the bay, and the mountains to the east, Caso was a city that was hard to get lost in. His plan was to walk and explore, then grab lunch from either the market by the auction house or one of the merchant boats along the grand canal. If he had the energy, he might even make the long trek across the city to the old city with the pointy rooftops and then watch the sunset from atop the cliffs leading to the fortress.

Winding down the street, Gaba’ké brought his attention to his agindan sense. It was a habit, and it wasn’t until he had already expanded his spiritual sense outward into the square to check for threats that Gaba’ké remembered he was being overly cautious. He would be able to sense any Aginjigaade that got too close. Instead, the numerous spirits that called the street home appeared to his senses like stars appearing across the night sky. They permeated everything. Orangey-brown clay spirits clung to the bricks and roof tiles. Angular wood spirits nestled themselves within a pile of discarded boxes. Wispy mist spirits lingered meekly in shadows where the early morning fog still remained. Vibrant fire spirits danced alongside the flames of a cook fire. If one knew where to look, there were spirits everywhere. They were ubiquitous.

Gaba’ké took in a breath and felt the stone-spirits that surrounded him. Some were jagged, others angular and smooth like glass. They came in every shape and form imaginable. He reached out, as trained long ago, and used his own spiritual energy to blanket them. He felt those he touched, vast in number but weak individually, submit to his will. Each one unique, each one a conduit to different abilities. In some he recognized the shape his power might take, in others he found the infinity opportunity of mystery. They grasped the lifetimes that could be spent in just this small street understanding each unique spirit. Lifetimes dedicated to testing and understanding what each one might yield. Infinite in possibility.

But just as Gaba’ké could sense and feel the spirits of this place, they too cast their gaze back at him. Alone, each minor spirit was inconsequential, but together with their collective attention and presence, they were as vast as the world. Their attention affected him too. He could feel it, but couldn’t describe how. The feeling became a trance. Gaba’ké quested delicately outwards with his senses. He felt beyond this small street, wider and wider until the distant presence of others like him revealed themselves like objects in the periphery. They too had survived the curse and now lived with its gift. Others who could see what he saw and feel what he felt and could channel their power through the spirits that matched their own affinity. Who could destroy him and take away the things he loved and cherished. And so many of them in one place. The realization frightened him and he recoiled back to himself. To safety.

For not since leaving the Aginjigaade academy of Ayaan, just a boy who once boldly called himself a man, did Gaba’ké feel small. There were so many more Aginjigaade in Caso than he was used to. It was uncomfortable and peculiar, both in its familiarity but also in its vulnerability. Aginjigaade, in Gaba’ké’s opinion, were predictable. That is to say that they are still human. And it is their humanity that makes them dangerous, as anyone granted power over others can be. He had learned that lesson early. As a young child enrolled at the Aginjigaade Academy of Ayaan, he was familiar with the many types of Aginjigaade out there, and not just their distinct natural affinities. He knew their types, their personalities, and could recognize their relationships with their gift of power. The twisted horrors that power over others has the capacity to produce. He could still picture the bodies of those who hadn’t survived it. It seemed those memories would haunt him forever.

Gaba’ké opened his eyes and found himself stopped in the street. He blinked, returning to his other senses. The spirits in the vicinity reacted to his emotions. To his fear. They recoiled from him. That was a lifetime ago. I’ve come so far. He had done what so many dreamed impossible as Aginjigaade, grown old. He was proud of that fact. Not proud of everything done along the way, but proud of where it had taken him. Proud of the good friends made that had steered him here.

The rhythm of the day was in full swing. Gaba’ké reached the wide market plaza in the shadow of the grand auction house as the sun reached its apex. Vegetables, meats, flowers, dishware, fish and eels, clams and water bugs, spices, eggs, fruits, and grains in impressive quantities filled the market stalls. The square was bustling with patrons haggling with hawkers and merchants out of tented stands and carts. Gaba’ké wound his way around the market and then through the continuation that sprawled out onto the grand canal. Walking along the canal opposite Patzau Palace and its luscious gardens and standing between the two great edifices was awe inspiring. Ayaan and Gaag each had their marvels, but little on this scale. The scene reminded him of the city of Turtle, with its Royal Palace and Great Library arranged opposite one another in similar grandeur. Distant memories of a distant place. The domes of both buildings stood high and mighty above the rooftops of the adjacent blocks. Looking around, Gaba’ké spotted a vendor smoking fish out of a long Casoyan canal boat and he purchased a round fluffy flat bread and half of an unfamiliar smoked whitefish stuffed with some sort of oily vegetable salad.

Crossing the canal, Gaba’ké found his way to the gardens in front of Patzau Palace. He found a place to sit on an empty stone bench and ate and watched. The food was delicious. It was cheap, and yet somehow more enjoyable than the wealth of food served at Yohati’s dinner. People came and went through the garden pathways up to the great government building. Aides and scribes and messengers hastened while officials and bureaucrats strolled at their own leisure. Amusing, Gaba’ké thought, how people always fall into the same patterns.

He felt her presence long before he saw her appear. Her agindan, her spirit, brushed up against his own, and Gaba’ké’s walls came up on instinct. It was a greeting, gentle and introductory rather than aggressive but Gaba’ké was vigilant from long years on edge. He didn’t lower his defences until he saw her appear, Kuta’s small frame and bright white cloak. The portly Patzau’s Aginjigaade, Gaba’ké realized, the one who met us the day we arrived.

She made her way down the flight of stone steps leading out of the palace and met his fixed gaze. She was young, perhaps younger than he initially guessed, with brown skin and high cheekbones under round eyes and a bent nose. She had dark eyes that felt impossible to read. There was something there. Something hidden behind her even expression. Anger, or pain, or fear. Something. It was clear as sky one moment and then gone in a flash that left him questioning whether he’d glimpsed anything at all.

“Greetings, Gaba’ké of Ayaan” she said, stopping a few paces away.

“Good morning” he replied cautiously. “I don’t recall learning your name when last we met.”

“My name is Kuta” she said. “I am Aginjigaade for the Casoyan Guild of Smiths and Artisans.”

“And how is it, Kuta, that you’ve come to know my name?”

To Gaba’ké’s surprise, the girl blushed. “May I sit?” she asked. Gaba’ké moved to create space on the bench for her. She sat down next to him and answered, “It was relatively easy to discover your identities once Patzau Minoc confirmed who you are. You’re are not unimportant figures in today’s world.”

“And how did he confirm it?” Gaba’ké asked.

“The new governor of Gaag as well as her lady the ambassador of the Careyago Emperor both requested to be notified if members of your group ever entered this city. They provided your names and descriptions. Gaba’ké of Ayaan, The Stone Aginjigaade of Ayaan. Cask Gohara, master swordsman. Guharo Provis, former lord of the Helmlands. Yoliim Kulimas former lord of Middle Gozhu, Ander Kulimas, sworn swords and lordling of Middle Gozhu. And of course, Prince Aramuk Krimas and former Crown Prince Ohacha Krimas. Details of your entourage are documented within their requests.” Gaba’ké furrowed his eyebrows at her words. “Requests…” Kuta continued, “the Patzau Council collectively dismissed as overstepping. Foreign affairs are not our business and we will not be at the mercy of foreign kings and emperors.”

Gaba’ké exhaled a held breath. Still, something didn’t sit right with him. There is something she hasn’t said. Something feels off about that answer. Then the reason clicked, “Your answer is far too factual” Gaba’ké concluded. “It hides the real truth.” Kuta turned her head in interest. She does very little to reveal her thoughts. “I have seen the list you speak of. The King of Onera received the same one” Gaba’ké said. “You have a spy in Onera. One who is familiar enough with us to provide specific and recent information. You did not include Wendii Kulimas on your list, which can only confirm that you already knew of her death.” And, by including Golan and Ander on your list, it affirms that news of their deaths hasn’t preceded us. A relief.

She grinned. “Patzau Minoc is a man of business. He may have some mutual friends in Onera.”

“Lord Anup?” Gaba’ké guessed. Kuta maintained her unreadable expression.

“They call you the Stone Aginjigaade” Kuta said, changing topic. “Why is that?”

The new question was surprising and abrupt. His face gave away his apprehension to the sudden change in conversation. “A smart woman like yourself can surely guess without me needing to tell her” Gaba’ké answered.

“We share an elemental affinity” Kuta pressed. “I’m sure you recognized it just as easily as I did. I can feel the six spirits you keep in vessels inside your cloak. I felt them the day we first met.”

“And I can sense the metal spirits that are drawn to what I can only presume are knives hidden in your sleeves as well as that pin in your hair.”

He’s observant, she thought. “I’ve had time to think about it, and I think I’ve even uncovered each of your six vessels uses” Kuta continued, ignoring his counter. It had taken her a long time to figure it out and she was proud of having done so. “It’s one vessel for each of the basic properties of minerals; strength, hardness, toughness, density, conductivity, and maybe texture.”

“The knives you carry are talismans.” Gaba’ké countered. They were close in proximity now and her assertive tone awakened his counter assessment of her totems. “You carry very specific metals and alloys on your person to attract spirits you are familiar with. You string them along, ensuring you have most nearby at all times. It hints towards an understanding or teachings, but the fact that you haven’t trapped them inside as vessels suggests either you haven’t the opportunity, knowledge, or skill to do so. Your knives are made of copper, gold, tin, lead, silver, and iron” he added smugly. I’ll not be bested by one as young as yourself, he thought with confidence.  

“You are known as The Stone Aginjigaade, yet you carry a seventh vessel” Kuta said. “This one elementally distinct from your other six.” Kuta said, silencing him. Gaba’ké recoiled slightly.He opened his mouth to speak, to retort, but no words came out. Kuta held out her hands calmingly. “I am not your enemy. But I need to know more about your kind of Aginjigaade. I press this matter out of need for information on those who are twin-spirited.”

Gaba’ké sat back cautiously. Who the hell is this girl? he thought. Where did Patzau Minoc find and train her? She can’t be older than Ohacha, still just a child, and yet she sensed it. He was impressed and if being honest, more than a little frightened. Not in many years had another Aginjigaade discovered his seventh totem. And yet, she had noticed it in simple passing and grasped its potential significance. It was alarming. But he was not what she thought he was.

“I have come across one other Aginjigaade…” Kuta continued, slowly. “One I believe to be here in Caso. I have reason to suspect that this person also has a twin-affinity. I promise to keep your secret. I don’t need to know anything about you or your abilities but it is vital that I understand how it works.”

Gaba’ké smiled sombrely. “You can choose not to believe me, but I don’t have a second affinity” he said. She seemed untrusting of his words. “But you are correct. I do keep a seventh vessel.” He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small clay jar filled with water. It was barely larger than his thumb and the paint around it was thin and worn. “I lost a dear friend a long, long time ago. I carry this as a reminder.” The hope drained from Kuta’s eyes. “But…” he added, “as luck would have it, I did once know an Aginjigaade with a second affinity, back in the Ayaani Academy in my youth.”

Kuta’s eyes perked up again. “Really?” she asked.

“Yes” Gaba’ké said. “But I doubt I’ll share anything you haven’t already figured out for yourself.”

“Who was this person?” she asked, “What were their affinities?”

“Before I begin” Gaba’ké said, holding up a hand, “I’d like to understand why you need this information. You said it was vital.”

Kuta’s eagerness withered. “I can’t tell you why” Kuta said.

“What if I told you I couldn’t share this information without understanding why its needed?”

She chewed on her cheek. “Why phrase that question as a hypothetical? Can you tell without me sharing my reasons?”

Gaba’ké stared back at her expectant look, then relented, “I’ll tell you what I think you need to know first and then I’ll share more about the man I learned these things from” Gaba’ké said. “The most important thing you should know is that having multiple affinities doesn’t make an Aginjigaade any more powerful. No multi-affinity Aginjigaade has any power advantage over any other Aginjigaade. Only vitality Aginjigaade have that ability to increase overall strength, power, or endurance. They will get tired just as quickly as any other Aginjigaade if too much energy is spent channeling.”

“That’s not what I expected” Kuta said.

“Nor I” Gaba’ké agreed. “Think back to when you first discovered you could use your agindan to sense the spirits of the world. Then, think to the amount of time you’ve spent understanding and learning the minute differences between spirits. How channeling power through each unique spirit produces unique results. Consider that there are hundreds of spirits in our affinity. And then consider how many you could recognize in a heartbeat and trust as a lens for your strength and power. Now imagine doing the same with an entirely different and larger set of natural spirits. Think of the extra effort required to familiarize yourself with scores of new unfamiliar spirits. Between the effort spent learning, memorizing, and testing each spirit for its unique effects, and then multiply that effort.

“I see” Kuta said, mulling it over. “It takes a lot more effort to build to those benefits.”

“Usually at the cost of depth” Gaba’ké said. “An Aginjigaade split between two spirits will not be as skilled at either as a master dedicated to just one. Not unless they can find a mentor for each of their spirits to hasten their learning?”

“Is there an advantage then?” Kuta asked.

“Of course.” Gaba’ké said. “The obvious advantage as that an Aginjigaade with two spiritual affinities has twice the number of tools at their disposal to solve problems. This can be difficult to deal with, especially if the counter is unexpected.”

“Can casting be done with both affinities at once?” Kuta asked.

“I believe it may be possible” Gaba’ké replied, “but the man I knew couldn’t do it. It was too difficult and taxing. It would be like using both your eyes to follow two things at once. I must take a colossal amount of practice, skill, fortitude, and concentration. I find, even switching between spirits from my single elemental affinity takes considerable attention.”

“I am curious about your friend” Kuta said, “the one with the dual affinities.”

“I never said he was my friend” Gaba’ké interjected. “He was my senior at the academy.”

“What were his affinities?”

“He had affinities for both water and ice, specifically those with mist spirits and ice spirits. He was known as a mist Aginjigaade, and kept his ice affinity secret.”

“What could he do with the two affinities together?” Kuta asked aloud, but seemed more interested in considering the answer for her self.

Gaba’ké waited a moment for her to contemplate her own question. After a moment, she looked at him expectantly. He answered, “He drew forth mists and then used ice spirits to flash freeze targets caught within the heavy mist. It was a powerful combination. Not because the freezing killed, but because it was painful, disorienting, and nearly impossible to avoid.”

“Is he still teaching? What happened to him?”

“He wasn’t a teacher” Gaba’ké said, answering the first question, “and I don’t know” he lied in response to the second. She didn’t need to know that he had killed him.“What exactly do you need this information for?”

“I…” she hesitated, “I need to know how to protect myself.”

“I see…” Gaba’ké said, trailing off. Vague. Too vague. I hope I didn’t just make a mistake.

“Yes. Well, I appreciatehow helpful you’ve been in answering my questions” Kuta said. “As a thank you, I would love to bring you to meet one of our local artisans. I’m sure I can find something unique made here in the city that would serve as a token of my gratitude.”

“That is not necessary” Gaba’ké said, but Kuta got to her feet and beckoned him to follow her.  

“Do you have anything else you’re intending to do today?” she asked. “I’d make a good guide. Or perhaps I can instead be of assistance? I’ve got a keen eye for quality metals. You’ll find no better expert in the city.”

“I appreciate your hospitality, but there is one thing I’d ask of you.”

“Make your request” Kuta said.

“We have many enemies” Gaba’ké said, plainly. “Your words make it clear that you know this truth. What you’ve said also indicates that Patzau Minoc is well connected in Caso and the wider cities of the Starlight Sea. I ask the favour that you or your Patzau warn us if you hear any whispers of danger. We walk a perilous path. Any information you might bring could be life or death.”

Kuta mulled over his words. “I can do that” she replied. “But communicating may be complicated, since you are staying in Patzau Yohati’s estate. He and Patzau Minoc disagree on many political issues and we are not keen on the idea of his eyes reading each message we send to you.”

“Patzau Yohati will read messages sent to us?”

“He will” Kuta said. “Consider any message you send in this city public. Do so and nothing you share can be used to hurt you. If you want your secrets to remain secret, use codes. My warnings are as follows” Kuta said. “First, do not leave the city’s walls for any reason. Second, is that there is a Mada’abi Stone Assassin residing in the city” Kuta said. “We are yet to find them, but if your enemies are as rich and powerful as you claim, then be wary.”

Gaba’ké gulped. “I see” he said. “This is good information to have. But what do you propose as the code for communicating?”

“I have a solution” Kuta said. “Follow me.”

The two Aginjigaade stood around the corner from Yohati’s estate at an unassuming three-story tenement. The upper floors of the building were showing signs of age. The right half bore the blackened memories of a past fire, with streaks of soot still clinging to the woodwork despite recent repairs. Three stairs led up to a landing where a wooden door boasted the hand-painted moniker: “Banzhiigan’s.”

Kuta strode forward and opened the door with a charming chime. Kuta stood in the dark portal, holding the door open for him. He stepped through the small doorframe into a cramped shop space. Every inch of the store was filled with furniture. There were tables, chairs, drawers, chests, and stools. Carved wooden knickknacks littered the tops of every flat surface. The store was a collection of masterpieces; the passion of a true craftsman.

“Welcome” a voice said from behind the counter. Gaba’ké peered over but saw nobody until the face of a young girl appeared amongst the clutter.

Kuta spoke in some sort of unfamiliar greeting until adding, “Is your grandfather here?”

Cassie stared at Gaba’ké with a child’s innocence. He removed his cloak and smiled back at her. She turned away and yelled towards the back of the dark store, “Grampa!”

“I’ll be with you in a minute” a gruff voice echoed back from a dark corner in the back of the long and narrow store. Cassie turned back to Kuta and her guest and smiled wide. Kuta smiled back.

A few heartbeats later, the amble of a man grew louder and the old man who was Cassie’s grandfather stepped into view. He was similar in age and had a dark stubble and bushy eyebrows over a strong nose. His hands were stained a dark brown colour. Wood shavings clung to his clothes and the dark hair on his arms. Gaba’ké immediately recognized the similar features he and Kuta shared that other Casoyans appeared not to.

“Aye, Kuta” the old man said. His face lit up when he saw her. Gaba’ké noticed that he walked with a well-disguised limp. “I didn’t know you’d be coming to say hello today. Who is this that you’ve brought to my store?”

“This here is a new friend of mine, Gaba’ké” Kuta said. “He’s visiting from out of town and staying nearby and it’s important that we can communicate without… prying eyes. Messages from myself will come to him through the shop, and if he need find me, he can do so through you. The guild will pay for the arrangements.”

“Consider it done” Banzhiigan said. “Anything for the guild. And…” he said, turning his head to acknowledge Gaba’ké, “anything for a friend of yours, Kuta.”

Gaba’ké followed Kuta outside and the two of them stood in the street together as people passed them by. “You understand?” Kuta asked. “Banzhiigan will reach out, and will share the message in person.”

“Do you trust him?” Gaba’ké asked.

“He’s a member of the guild” Kuta said. Gaba’ké eyed her with a look that said, I’m not foolish enough to buy that answer alone. “He’s a member of the guild and a friend” she added. “There might not be anyone in the city I’d trust more than Banzhiigan.”

“If you trust him, I’ll trust him” Gaba’ké said.

“How is it you came to be in the care of Patzau Yohati of all people?” Kuta ventured. “He’s a very private man.”

“Prince Aramuk and Patzau Yohati knew each other as children. This was back when Yohati’s grandfather was Patzau and Aramuk’s father was King of Gaag.” Gaba’ké answered.

“And, do you ever get to speak to him? Dine with his family?” Kuta asked.

“We have once” Gaba’ké said, “but more often he’s too busy elsewhere. I was told he’s dealing with issues outside the walls.”

“Mudtown has grown into a problem big enough that neglect can no longer solve.”

Gaba’ké raised a brow. This was the first real opinion the girl had revealed. “Tell me about that.”

Kuta looked guarded at his interest, but answered truthfully, “People unable to afford life inside the city have only one place to go: Mudtown. In recent years, the number of people living in the slums has exploded. The council’s neglect or ignorance of the problem has allowed crime and violence to flourish, festering resentment.”

“Thank you for your honesty. I will share the information you’ve provided with my princes” Gaba’ké said. “It will be beneficial for us to better understand the social and political climate during our stay. Thank you for your time and assistance, Kuta.”

“Good day to you, Gaba’ké of Ayaan” Kuta said. “Oh, and one more thing” she said, pulling an item from her sleeve. In her hands was a silver pin, long and tapering to a dull point. “You were half right” she said, “about the vessels in my sleeve. But they’re not knives.”

“Pins?” Gaba’ké asked, not understanding. Each one was long and thin, about the length of wrist to fingertip. He felt her agindan press up against his own as she channeled strength into her sorcery. A tingle of her power crawled across his skin and it gave him a shiver that made his hair stand on end. The distinctly metallic smell tickled his nose. The pins in her hand changed shape rapidly before his eyes; first into a flat metal disk and then into the shape of a small knife. Then into the shape of a small hand fan, and finally back into its original pin shape. He stared as the metal object, the pin, once again sat in her hand as if nothing had ever taken place. The four consecutive transformations happened in just a few short heartbeats. Gaba’ké looked around, but nobody else on the street had appeared to either notice or care. She smiled at him, and walked away. Spirits. If I had an iota of her talent at that age, I’d be a very different man. She’s barely a woman and already her sense and control are akin to mastery, Gaba’ké thought to himself. Whoever that dual-spirited Aginjigaade is, they’ve made one hell of an enemy.    

Gaba’ké turned and walked back towards the estate. He had wanted to visit the south part of the city, and perhaps he still would, but he needed to share this new information with his princes. The information Kuta provided could be of great help. On his way towards the gate, amidst the throngs of passersby, Gaba’ké’s keen eyes caught sight of a figure, cloaked in shadows and disguised in nondescript attire, loitering with an air of unsettling purpose. From what he could observe, he had a dark beard and a hawk nose. A large birthmark stained the man’s face under the left eye. The stranger eyed the gate with a fervent intensity. Interest reserved only for those with intentions beyond those of mere curiosity. Gaba’ké walked past the man and avoided making eye contact. He picked up the pace and approached the gate house. The gates opened for him and, despite his better judgement, he cast one last glance back at the stranger but the man had vanished.