Page 6 of The Weaver

Rekosh felt none of that as he crossed the massive chamber.

Sunlight streamed down through a gap in the ceiling high overhead and struck the crystals below, reflecting countless times to fill the space with brilliant, scintillating light. Where there were no crystals on the walls, intricate carvings from ages past covered the stone, depicting stories of Takarahl’s history back to the time of the city’s founder, Queen Takari.

Rekosh had always found beauty here, though it had never moved him to pray or offer sincere thanks to the gods.

But it did feel different now. It was cleaner, brighter. Calmer.

It helped that the immense statue Zurvashi had been building to immortalize herself in stone had been torn down.That material was being used to create new sculptures honoring the true heroes of Takarahl.

It was another way in which the former queen’s shadow had been lifted off the city.

Several vrix were present. Some were studying the carvings, others were paying reverence to the Eight, and a few were basking in the sunlight.

Rekosh set his attention on the tiered stone dais at the center of the cavern. His friends awaited him there.

Urkot reclined on the edge of the lowest tier, all three hands braced on the stone surface. The reflected light from the crystals heightened the contrast between his blue markings and his black hide, and made the big scar on his left side, where his lower arm had been completely torn off, stand out more than usual.

Telok stood nearby, leaning his shoulder against a carved pillar with his arms folded across his chest save one, in which he held his barbed spear. During Zurvashi’s reign, weapons of any sort had been forbidden within the Den of Spirits save those carried by her Fangs and Claws. The edict had stemmed from the fear Zurvashi had carried in her hearts—a fear that the vrix she ruled would rise against her.

Ahnset had lifted that rule, encouraging trust rather than fear.

Unsurprisingly, Telok, ever the alert hunter, had found one of the few places in the cavern where the shadows were unbroken, leaving his green eyes and markings to glow faintly in the relative darkness.

A supply-laden bag was slung over his shoulder, and a pair of similar bags, each with a spear, lay beside Urkot on the dais. One set was his, the other Rekosh’s.

Telok’s mandibles twitched with clear agitation when his eyes fell upon Rekosh.

Bringing his forearms flat together, side-by-side, in apology, Rekosh hurried across the last few segments to reach his friends. “I lost my way navigating the tunnels.”

Telok scoffed.

Urkot thumped a leg on the floor. “I feared you had pricked your finger sewing and scurried off to the spiritspeakers for aid.”

“You should have run a thread to mark your path,” Telok said in his rough, raspy voice.

“Amusing as always, my friends.” Rekosh extended his forelegs, brushing one against Telok’s leg, the other against Urkot’s. The fine hairs on his legs picked up his friends’ familiar scents—one tinged with jungle, the other with stone. “Yet I cannot help but wonder if I should have delayed longer.”

“Why?” Urkot asked with a grunt. “Eager to have Telok thrash you and drag you out of Takarahl by your hair?”

Rekosh chittered and grasped his bag, dragging it to the edge of the dais. “No. Because it would have granted you both more time to come up with insults that had some bite.”

“I will gladly show you some bite, Rekosh, if you take any longer,” replied Telok with a snap of his mandible fangs.

Opening his bag, Rekosh reached inside and shifted its contents to make room. “For so skilled a hunter, you certainly lack patience.”

Telok huffed. “I have patience aplenty. I simply refuse to spare any more of it for you.”

“Then I fear our journey may feel eightfold longer to you.” Rekosh carefully tucked the bundled dress into his bag.

Urkot dipped his chin toward it. “Did you show him?”

“That is why I went to his den, Urkot.”

“That does not answer my question, Rekosh.”

With a chitter, Telok tapped the end of his spear on the floor. “You are caught there, weaver.”

“You will need far tighter a net to capture me, my friends.” Rekosh closed the bag and secured the tie. Though he didn’t intend to say anything more, the words came out anyway. “But no. He… The opportunity did not arise.”

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