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‘Y’know what stinks?’ The shopkeeper grumbled as he stuffed the snack into a thin papyrus bag. ‘It’s those poor Klós souls hovering over the city during this spell, day and night, through heat and sleet to keep us safe.’
After paying, Sana’a left them to their bickering, walking away with a smirk.
Couples like the merchant and his wife only cemented her resolution never to marry. She had rejected any notions that such a union brought honour to one’s existence.
The only dignity she sought was exacting revenge for her loved ones.
Her oath would be fulfilled regardless of any interference.
Including any funny bizna from Katáne’s sentries, and there was a myriad of them hovering over Kos.
Biting into her delicious meaty parcel, Sana’a glanced at the azure expanse above, where the phalanx of silhouettes stood out against the skyline.
She’d evaded the midair cordon by infiltrating the urban centre via one of the two principal arterials that ran from the mountains beyond the black marble city.
Following it from a distant lower massif where she’d parked her ship stealthed between two wide crevasses, leaving Sika in charge and on standby.
Now, she strolled along the clear, diamond-like river that surfaced at one single point south of the main square in a fountain that gushed twenty feet in the air.
She used it to navigate, on occasion referencing her neural node to project a map towards the blinking location marker, calling her to itself.
As she strode through Kos, she couldn’t help but note its grandeur; most buildings were carved from slabs of veiny ebony marble, and columns were monolithic stone blocks. This was the colour of Empire, for black onyx was rare and sought after all over Pegasi.
The intricate details of each structure glistened like stars in the moonless night, while the gold threads through the surfaces glimmered like spirited secrets waiting to be unleashed.
It appeared like this place was alive, a seductress alluring in its contradiction of dark and light, rough and smooth, decadent and regal.
While the cobbled stones of the avenues were solid under her feet, a faint sense of mystical weightlessness was in the atmosphere.
This was the kätu present throughout the ancient burg and the entire planet.
It pulsed through its walls.
It ran in rivulets along the streets and, at times, burst into life in dazzling luminous displays.
Sometimes, it sprouted into spontaneous iridescent plant growth at random points and hidden corners.
The golden tendrils perfumed the air with unfamiliar, wild, blossom-like scents she couldn’t quite identify.
They mingled with the aroma of burning incense, sweet oils wafting from the city’s open windows and ornate gardens.
Creating a pleasant and almost otherworldly fragrance.
The savage beauty of Kos was also reflected in its residents, proud, tall beings with lithe, lean bodies and eagle eyes.
The byways hummed with the chatter, bizna, spellworking, and fluttering of wings of the magnificent creatures that called the city home.
Their hair and nape quills were their crowning glory, with wild styles worn in large krests aloft their craniums.
Others, however, chose to keep their neck feathers—the koya, as she’d come to learn—hanging over their shoulders, keeping their locks short. Some also wound their quills into a mohawk style, but the latter mode was rare.
In time, she noted the subtle differences between the locals.
The wealthy wore the most outlandish clothes, expressing their love for pomp and pantomime through their krested diamonds, soaring plumed chokers, and silken bow ties. She also spotted individuals strutting in varicoloured jackets with a distinct drollness that featured frilly collars, plus a plethora of top hats and wrist-length gloves.
The middle bracket was less ostentatious in simple embellished outfits, whereas the poor were evident in threadbare vestments and faded feathers.
Flying to the planet’s forsaken steppes on the far side of Pegasi had taken a few weeks. So, she’d used the downtime of her long flight to ramp up her knowledge of the place.
