Slumrat Rising

Chapter 83: A Lingering Smell of Smoke

Truth awoke to the screams of the System and the faintest smell of cigarettes.

Dad was a heavy smoker. You never forgot the smell of stale cigarette butts or how the smoke ground its way into your clothes. How the smell seemed to creep into every part of your life, making you go scent blind to it until it jolted out at you again. Choking you like ash from a toxic fire.

This wasn’t Red Bats, though. It didn’t have that heady, sickly sweet trace of opium. This was rough stuff, heavy with tar. He got up and sniffed around, sticking his nose to the vents and the edge of the door. He went through his sheets and clothes like a bloodhound. No cigarette smell, rough or otherwise.

He must have imagined it.

The morning’s investigation inspired him. He washed quickly, avoiding the mirror again. He felt the stirrings of the intrusive thoughts but tried to muscle his brain into being useful.

His hair. He hadn’t done anything with his har. It was beautiful hair. Thick, straight, and with a silky luster that managed to feel even better than it looked. To run his fingers through his hair was a pure animal pleasure. It would be a crime to mess up this hair, but right now, it fell in a shaggy, floppy sort of waterfall. Really, the only wonder was why it hadn’t grown down to his ass as he floated in the well.

Three cheers for the worms?

Merkovah had said that they had the day off. He had planned on going to the library and the gym, but… there was another thing worth pursuing. Nothing changed unless you made it change. Passivity equaled pain. Equaled death. Equaled Suicide.

Truth felt he had died enough. There was, in his considered opinion, no future in it.

_________________________

Etenesh and Jember were lingering over their coffee, bickering quietly about nothing much. Etenesh had her hair up in a scarf again. Truth missed the way her hair seemed to be so free and danced through the air, but the scarf did a lot for her. He wasn’t an expert on how these things worked, but it sure looked good to him.

Trut got a cup of the truly excellent coffee from the golem and sat with them.

“You take yours black?” Jember asked.

“All different ways, actually. I don’t know enough to know what I really like. But I figured I should learn what it tastes like before I start adding stuff to it.” Truth explained.

Back at Starbrite, he was a “Two Milk, Two Sugar” guy, as the coffee was lousy. In his long-ago days as a conscript, he was an “I will have my mug of sugar flavored with coffee” guy, as the Army coffee was transcendently terrible.

“Makes sense.” Jember smiled. “This stuff is grown on a farm near here.”

Truth had to stifle the urge to say, “Fuck farms.” He really wanted to know where that random hate was coming from.

“It’s roasted on campus. I hear they are testing the new breeds of coffee on the students and staff,” Jember continued.

Truth took a sip. Tasted really nice to him. Almost fruity, with a kind of floral note. Not flavors and smells he usually associated with coffee.

“It’s good stuff.” Truth smiled back. Then looked over at Etenesh. “I wanted to ask you something, following up on our hair conversation the other day.”

“Oh?” She smiled, eyes glinting with pleasure and concealed mischief. “What did you want to know?”

“How to fix up my hair.” He waved feebly. For some reason, this felt harder than fighting demons. It definitely counted as advancing their relationship, right? Or was he being dumb? Shit, did this mean something in their culture? Did he say something rude?

“Are you one hundred percent sure you aren’t Desrin?” She asked suspiciously. Truth immediately had an “OH SHIT!” moment, as it clearly did mean something cultural.

“Pretty certain?”

“It’s pretty common for a Desrin man to test the firmness of his Muq by having a female acquaintance cut his hair,” Jember said helpfully. “Hair is usually cut by a mother or wife, so having it cut by an unrelated woman is seen as a test of his ability to remain focused on righteousness and not be led astray into mental adultery.”

“I’m… not married?” Truth was almost stuttering with embarrassment.

“They feel that everyone has a destined spouse, and they are the person you marry. Therefore, premarital sex, or even lustful thoughts, is adultery. The thoughts are less sinful, obviously.”

“Oh, God. And women?”

“Test their Muq’il by getting manicures from male acquaintances.” Etenesh grinned. “Any good with a file and polish, Tommy?”

“Never learned, but I suppose I can. Wait, you two aren’t Desrin!”

“A good practice is good, regardless of origin.” Jember looked very pious.

“And… just so I know, what about people who are gay?”

Jember’s face quirked into an awkward smile. “Sex is defined as the conjugal act between man and woman. Therefore, anything falling out of that is not regulated.”

Truth grinned, then frowned as he thought it through.

“Yep. Sounds great; then you start playing out the consequences. Marriage and children being the most obvious. They have been arguing about that point of religious law for” Jember wiggled his hand in the air “for about six hundred years. No sign of coming to an agreement soon.”

Truth shook his head. “Out of curiosity, what faith do you two follow?”

“Siphios Reformed Orthodox.” Etenesh smiled. “We work for a teacher of religious law. Is it strange we’re observant?”

“I… guess I didn’t notice. Ah, wait, the country and religion have the same name?”

“Religion is something you live here, not something confined to the Temple. Our lives are intended to serve and glorify God, as are all good people, whether they know it or not. And not exactly. More like the country was named for the faith. Actually, that’s not right either. The country and the faith are pretty much the same thing.” Etenesh looked wistful. And, to Truth’s mind, a little sad.

____________________________________________________

It turned out that Etenesh could cut hair.

Her hands were very soft. She insisted on washing his hair again, gently massaging his scalp. She had been careful to ask if she may touch him, and Truth smiled and pressed her hands to his head. As though he were pressing flowers on tissue paper, deathly afraid something would rip. The shampoo smelled like orange and vanilla. Her soft hands stirred up the lather in his rich hair and gently soothed him.

One charm poured lukewarm water over his hair, another disposed of it, and a third kept the rest of Truth dry as he leaned back in a chair. She insisted on cutting his hair in the quad, and Truth didn’t mind a sunshine-lit cut. They had a few people look their way, but, well, it was a vacation week. It was private enough.

Etenesh didn’t say much as she cut, snipped, trimmed, and combed. Each strand of his hair was carefully collected and incinerated by yet another charm, this one supplied by Jember. Etenesh seemed to always have a hand on him, as though she were reminding him that she was there. There was no need. Truth could feel her warmth.

It was a quiet, timeless moment where only the two of them existed between heaven and earth.

“Hey, Tommy.”

“Yes?”

“You… can put down the blade with me, you know.”

Truth blinked. “Sorry?” The angelic sword was leaning up against the chair, true, but he wasn’t holding it.

She gently slid her fingers through his hair. “I can see you trying to relax. I can feel you trying to relax. But there’s some part of you that won’t let go. I can feel it in your neck. I can practically feel it standing two steps away. Some part of you is always ready to fight. To defend yourself. And I just wanted you to know. You can put down the blade with me.”

Truth sat with that for a minute. She was absolutely right, of course. Even in this timeless moment, this warm sunlight, this warm person, he was waiting for the hit. Waiting for the next betrayal. And that was it, wasn’t it? It didn’t matter how hard you worked. Mom would steal your money, Dad would hit you, and your bosses traded your life for their profit.

Truth was always looking for the fist coming at him. There always was one, after all. He took a deep breath. Held it like they said in therapy. Slowly let it out again. He was always looking for the fists. He believed the System when it said he ignored the outstretched hands.

But how to tell Etenesh? When you have been hit so much, hitting is all you trust. You know where you are with a beating. It’s not a good place, but it’s familiar. The bad thing is happening, you don’t need to fear it’s coming anymore. You just do what you have to to survive. The rest of the time, you had to be ready to defend yourself. Always.

Could she understand that? That… the blade wasn’t in his hand. It was part of him.

“I… wish I could. Will you be patient with me while I try?”

“Yes, Tommy. I can do that.” He could hear the sun in her words.

Truth was practically floating all afternoon. The studying seemed to go well, practicing Incisive seemed to go well, and even Merkovah was infected by his good mood. Apparently, they would leave for the north in a few days. Deeper into Siphios and further from what Merkovah would only darkly refer to as “The Southern Darkness.”

Truth just nodded. He wasn’t hideous. He wasn’t unlovable. He wasn’t a monster of violence. There was at least one person that wanted to be safe for him. Merkovah might be an old monster who was intending to use Truth as a chess piece, but Truth didn’t have to be alone.

__________________________________________________________

Truth walked past a common room with the scry on. There were pictures of black smoke pouring out of a building as demons scrambled up the concrete and plucked screaming people through the windows. And ate them on the spot, claws wedged into the concrete.

“Tsch! Turn it off,” A professor demanded.

“Wish I could. I’m working on a paper about global instability,” another replied, looking sick.

“Global instability?” Truth asked.

“Mmm. It’s been accelerating over the last few years. The cause is obvious, but the cause behind the cause… isn’t.”

“Oh?”

“Boronos, East Boronos, the Delphian Confederation, all had major rioting. The rise of extremist parties like Bloq Rezek. Deflationary pressure here in Siphios, and even Jeon has zero interest on their sovereign debt, and they are selling bonds like crazy. Which is a pretty nuts combination, especially when you remember that their economy is almost entirely exports, the most valuable portion of which go off planet.”

Truth nodded like he had the faintest idea what that meant.

“Assassinations all over, mostly political, some economic. Increased rates of attack on strategic economic zones. Elixer prices have gone through the damn roof, which is the only thing keeping our interest rates around zero instead of negative. And the Free State is-“ the professor waved at the scry ball, “more itself than ever.”

“So what’s behind it all?” Truth asked.

“Simple. The Black Ships used to come every year like clockwork. Well, now they are coming less and less often. It’s been eighteen months since their last visit.”

Truth froze. “Have the Shattervoid Clan given an explanation?”

“No. That’s what I mean by the cause behind the cause. If anyone knows why the Shattervoid Clan is breaking a schedule they have held to for centuries, they aren’t talking about it publicly.”

“Any action from Starbrite?” Truth asked.

“Good question. Not on the surface. Officially, everything is fine in Jeon. Unofficially… nobody really knows, but nobody thinks it’s fine. Rumors of trade unions starting only to be violently suppressed, that kind of thing. More worryingly, a lot of the upper class is buying property overseas or liquidating their holdings and getting ready to abandon the planet.” The professor looked grim. The professor who had asked to switch the channel looked even grimmer.

“No reason you would know this, young man, but the Shattervoid price their fares regressively. The higher your Level, the cheaper the ticket. If Level Fives are shopping for tickets, it might cost their whole fortune. A Level Four can’t even dream of affording it. The modestly rich looking for off-world tickets is a bad sign.”

“But nobody knows why the Shattervoid are acting odd.” Truth returned to the point.

“No, and worse, there’s nothing we can do about it. All we can do is prepare and pray.”