This chapter (among many other things) explains the presence of two cities in Spargus- the one Damas lived in and the one where Jak hunted for leapers with Kleiver. I've always thought that the older city was too small for all the Spargus-in-ians and the monarch of the time ordered them all to move to a bigger, better one.

If you happen to recognize the name of a very good J&D (among many, many other things) artist, yes, I used it with permission.


The week passed by slowly. Every night Seem collapsed on Divaka's floor, exhausted. The temple had to be scoured clean, and that miserable job was given to the lowest-ranking kuan. When she wasn't scrubbing stone after stone, Seem was sent scurrying through the halls, delivering reams of parchment, ornamental jewelry, and baskets of dried foods to different kuan. She quickly learned the layout of most of the temple.

Now that she was allowed to wear the hair-binding cap, the other kuan's stares dissolved into glances. Wearing only whiteface, she was immediately dismissed as one amongst the lowest-ranking. None realized she was a girl. However, she had no way of telling who was where in the hierarchy. Every day she saw someone reprimanded for not paying proper respect to a kuan above him.

It's like each kuan has his own face pattern. How the heck am I supposed to know who's higher up than who?

Once, while running to the loading dock, Seem had seen yet another confusing situation. The tall kuan giving out orders and checking off lists had a bright green circle on his forehead, two brown semicircles on his cheeks, and a tan stripe down his chin. He glared down at two shorter kuan, both with two brown stripes running from their eyes to their jawbones. One had red stripes between the brown stripes.

"Move faster," said the kuan in charge.

"Pshht," said the younger boy with brown stripes. "I don't see any orange through that green."

"Shut up," said the other young kuan. He picked up two baskets.

The older kuan threw down his list and picked the offending young kuan up by the collar. "How dare you!" He shook the boy. The kuan with red stripes fled the room. "I've got at least six years on you! The Jedicht Hora Quan was delayed because of the wedding! I will not take drisch from you!"

Seem edged around the two and snatched a few bags of sugar. They had to be taken to the kitchens. She smiled. Divaka worked there, and she wanted to bug him and ask what was going on. She kept meaning to ask him before bedtime, but was always too tired to remember.

After weaving her way through the first floor kitchens, she found the bakery. Baromah held his shaking hands over the ovens, glaring around the room. Two kuan with red circles painted around their eyes turned the coals with sharp sticks. It was terribly hot, but it smelled wonderful. Seem had never seen so much bread in one place before. Rows of rising dough lined the counters.

If I weren't holding this sugar, I'd poke all those loaves over there. Where is he? Oh.

"Divaka!" She skipped over to her friend. He was bent over a table, flattening dough with a marble rolling pin.

"Hey, Seem." He straightened and wiped his forehead. "Got something for me?"

She piled the bags on the table. "It's sugar. I didn't know sugar was so heavy!" She stretched her arms.

Divaka snorted. "You should feel this." He heaved the rolling pin off the table and put it in her hands. She stumbled forward, almost dropping it. "Careful!" Divaka took it back. "But see how easy you have it?"

Seem rolled her eyes. "I have a question."

Divaka groaned, but Seem saw a faint smile. He was more than willing to take a short break. He leaned back, elbows on the table. "The wise man is ready."

"What does all the face paint mean? Why do some people have stripes and others have circles? How do I know who's in charge of who? When do I get to use color?" She took a breath. "And what are you making?"

"First of all, that was five questions." Divaka wiped his hands on his apron. "Second, the hierarchy here will take a while to explain." He picked up a thin piece of metal that had been curved to form a half moon. Seem took it. One edge was sharp. "Third of all, that's a pastry cutter. I'm making dumplings. Have I ever told you how much I hate making dumplings?"

Seem shook her head. Divaka tended to take every statement she'd say and somehow get back to talking about himself. "But, what about the colors?"

Divaka sighed. "Basically, there's a pattern for each year you're here. It's really for each level you pass, but each level is only supposed to take a year, so… yeah." He shrugged. "Year one or level one, that's us, can only wear whiteface. Once we pass the requirements for this year, we have the Verdan'lu'Ordnu, the Blessing of Achievements. You get your new pattern then."

"Ohhh…"

"You're lucky. You came at a good time. We were just beginning level one lessons and then had to stop for the wedding."

Seem grinned. I'm glad I didn't miss very much.

"Orange is the most sacred color, but I don't know why. It's a big secret. Only really high-up kuan get to wear it. Brown is for the lower levels. During certain levels you have to do specific tasks, so there are colors for that, too. One before you do the task and one after. Plus, after you start getting skills, you can add your own shapes."

"Eek!"

"But the basic patterns should still be there. If a wandering skriba or kuan fel dorr can't tell what you are, you'd better change it."

"Kuan fel dorr?"

"Yeah. 'Monk eleven plus.' That means someone who's been here for more than eleven years. They get to wear orange. They're not kuan students anymore, like us. They're truly kuan. It's the level between regular kuan fel and skriba."

Seem blinked. There's so much to know. I hope I don't mess something up and offend someone and get beat up. I wonder what happened to that kuan who made the older one mad.

"The technically correct, really long and boring way to say someone's level is like… well, I'm kuan ahn ve. 'Monk level one.' You're supposed to say the level number in Middle Precursor, because 'kuan' is in Middle Precursor, but no one really does. You can just say kuan one."

"Thank Mar," said Seem.

Divaka smiled a little. "So, quiz time. What're you?"

"Kuan one!"

"Full title."

"Kuan ahn ve!"

"Not quite." Divaka grinned. Seem looked at him, puzzled. He bent and whispered, "kuan a-lal ahn ve."

"Oh, shut up!" Seem punched him in the arm.

Divaka laughed. "That gets you every time. Haha. You'd better get going." He nodded in Baromah's direction. "I'll tell you more later, when I won't get yelled at."

"Aww, okay. Bye!"

Since then, Seem had done her best to memorize face patterns and ages. Divaka pointed out basic patterns while they wolfed their breakfast down. Then he waved goodbye and disappeared into the kitchens. Seem was busy with her own chores. Between scrubbing and deliveries, she tore through the storage rooms, trying to find the smallest special occasion robes possible. She had found one set that fit, but they were the wrong colors. Divaka didn't have a spare set for her to borrow, and she was too afraid to ask the other kuan if they had extra. She grew increasingly worried as the day of the wedding drew near.

A greater source of annoyance to her, though, was that she had no time to practice her first spell. Divaka wouldn't teach her a new one until she could successfully raise a mound of sand half her height.

The night before the wedding, Seem let her knees give way and she dove into the mass of pillows she had piled up on the floor. "Urgh." She looked at her hands: the old calluses from her home chores were reddened and cracked from days of scrubbing. Seem had never worked with water so much before.

"Open the door!" Divaka's muffled voice came from the hall. Seem groaned, crawled over, and opened it.

Divaka stepped in, a huge bundle of cloth in his arms. Flour was splotched across his face. He glanced around. "Seem? Where are you?" Before she could answer, he dropped the bundle.

"Ow!" Seem crawled out from under it, rubbing the back of her head. "Are there rocks in there? Why'd you do that?"

"You're the one living on the floor." Divaka didn't wait for her response. He grabbed the edge of the bundle and yanked some golden cloth from it. "Praise me now, Seem." She rolled her eyes. "Ta daa!" Divaka shook out a decorative robe with flourish.

Seem's mouth opened. She jumped up and took the robe, holding it to her shoulders. It was the required yellow with flowing layers of ragged black and orange trim. Divaka held out plated black armor with embossed Precursor.

"Don't forget these."

"It's just the right size! Where did you get this?"

"Nicked it from the laundry room," grinned Divaka. He unfolded a rag and revealed two flatcakes. "These, er, just happened to be sitting around the kitchens."

"Thief!" Seem giggled.

"Ah, ah. Was not Mar also a thief? 'And lo, to save the defiled city, Mar often took its transports to complete his many holy tasks.'" Divaka blessed the bread and took a giant bite. "Mmm… it's so much better when you're not the one who had to bake it."

Seem pulled the decorative robes on over her daily wear. She snapped the armor around her shoulders, waist, shins and forearms. Tugging the layers so they showed properly, she spun around. Golden Precursor she could not yet read glittered in the lamplight. "It's perfect!"

"Course it is. I found it." He held out one of the flatbreads. "Eat. That way, if they catch me, you'll take the blame, too."

Seem stuck out her tongue. "I thought you said they've never caught you."

"They haven't. And they never will." Divaka leaned against his bed, stretching his legs. "I'm sick of working in the kitchen. I almost miss lessons." He rubbed his eyes and frowned at the mixture of whiteface and flour on his fingers.

Seem blessed her bread and chomped down. "What will the wedding be like? Who's the queen marrying?"

"Weddings are always full of boring speeches and too many people. The queen is marrying a prince from the Icelands."

"Really? I don't know anything about the Icelands."

Divaka brushed crumbs off his robe. "There's not much to know. It's really cold there. They don't have sand. But they're a good warrior race. They call themselves Marauders. That's why the queen picked him."

"Ooo, I think it will be too hot here for him." Seem shivered. She couldn't imagine a place without sand, or, even weirder, covered in ice.

"Tomorrow's the official first day in the 'new' city, even though people've been living there for years," said Divaka. "The old one's nearly blown away. I heard some of the older kuan say it's only used for growing cacti and leapers, now."

Seem nodded. She vaguely remembered when her family had been ordered to leave the city and go on to the new one. They were one of the last to go.

"Tomorrow morning Meenoch's going over our procession layout. Whenever we have to go to Spargus we line up by rank and age. You'll probably be last."

Seem's eyebrows knitted together. She pulled the armor off. "I don't wanna be last," she said.

"Yeah, well," Divaka finished his bread. "I guess I could break rank and walk in front of you."

"Yay!" Seem pulled the decorative robe off and hung it in Divaka's closet. She yawned and flopped onto her bed of blankets and pillows. "When do we get to do something fun?"

Divaka grinned. He took a pouch from his pocket and pulled out a handful of small white things. "Ever heard of kuut'kuh?"

Seem blinked. She took one of the white things. It was splintered, porous, and starting to yellow. "No. What is it?"

"'Hero's bones.' You play with pieces of bone you find in the desert." Divaka emptied his pockets. "I've got twenty-seven pieces. That's more than almost everyone in kuan one." He sorted them into piles by size.

Seem set it down. "Are they really from people?"

"Only Mar knows," Divaka said. "Heroes always ride into the desert to save the world but end up being destroyed. It's a betting game. It's more fun if you have cards, but I don't have any."

"How do you play?"

"You need to find your own bones," Divaka said. Seem frowned. "Okay, you can use some of mine while I teach you. But when you really play, you need your own. You find them when you're doing chores outside. The winds blow them up from the sand. Watch for them in the future, okay?" He handed her five bones. "The largest one is called the kragta, the tombstone. Never ever bet your kragta."

Seem nodded, her eyelids drooping.

"Arrange them into piles, like I did. The best pieces are the odd shaped bones and anything that has interesting marks on it. Like this one, here. It's a kneecap with a huge hole in it. I think the person was shot in the knee. That's worth extra points…"

He glanced at Seem. She was asleep, one hand tucked under her cheek. "Ooch, you, gimmie my kuh back." He wrestled the bones from her clenched fist. She muttered and turned. Divaka sighed and threw a blanket over her, then climbed into bed.

"We are." Meenoch's prayer was swept away with the wind. Seem strained to hear him. "We are… guided and most highly blessed of ceremonies…"

Seem panted. The sand shifted beneath her feet and she kept slipping. Though it was dusk, the heavy coats she wore over her ceremony robe were itchy and hot. Her goggles were covered in grime and she prayed none of the whirling sand had stuck to her whiteface. She held her unlit white candle against her chest with both hands and squinted ahead. Divaka's hunched figure was scarcely visible. He turned around occasionally and motioned for her to hurry. Though she couldn't always see him, she felt safer with him near.

The procession slowly wound between the dunes. At the front, shielded within a litter, the kuan sumna was carried by four of the strongest young kuan. Behind them came the skriba, their long ceremony robes trailing out from beneath their coats. Valyder linked his arms around the two eldest skriba and kept them steady. Meenoch was walking backwards and barking orders at the kuan tens. A huge wall of sand moved alongside them all, a panting Forbroir chanting continuously to keep it up. The winds sheared off this wall, which only extended to the kuan fives. Seem stumbled through the sand that flowed from its trailing edge. The temple behind them had long faded away.

After what felt like an eternity, the winds shifted. The lights of Spargus cut through the clouded air. An enormous gate of patchwork metal was covered in tan and silver ribbons. A huge banner sprawled across it, crinkled and unreadable. Seem squeaked, barely able to contain her excitement. The kuan stopped and waited.

"Brush off your clothes," said Divaka. Seem shrugged and wiggled and danced. Sand flowed out between the creases of her coat. Divaka smirked. "Binnastina." He waved his candle in a complicated pattern. Ropes of sand sprang off his figure and hovered in the air, braiding around each other.

"Show off." Seem held her scarves up. "Binnastina!" They twitched a bit. Seem stuck her tongue out at Divaka.

"What's this? I said line up by height!"

Seem and Divaka jumped. Meenoch stared down at them, "You, boy." He pointed to Divaka. "What are you-" he paused, recognizing Seem. His eyes narrowed. "Get back to your place."

Seem sank into her coats. Divaka's smile vanished. He bowed and disappeared further down the line. The kuan in front of Seem scoffed and folded his arms.

Meenoch glared at Seem. His eyes were so angry, yet something about his mean face was familiar. She tilted her head, resulting in an even deeper frown from the skriba.

That's the face mommy made when daddy brought imported citrus fruits home for us to try!

Seem's eyes watered. She bit her tongue and desperately tried not to laugh. Meenoch sneered and bent down, sticking his contorted face in hers.

"Ptah! Ah hahahaha!" Seem spat everywhere. Every kuan one whipped around and stared. Divaka's eyes nearly popped out.

"You foul girl!" Meenoch roared, wiping his face. He reared back and cursed in a language she didn't know. Divaka motioned for her to bow excessively and pray for forgiveness. She couldn't; Meenoch's bared teeth and smeared whiteface was too much for her. She smacked her hands over her mouth, almost stuck the candle up her nose, and giggled madly. Meenoch hissed and put two fingers over her forehead.

"Meenoch!" Forbroir jogged to the end of the procession. Meenoch snatched his hand away from Seem.

"What?"

"For Mar's sake, fix your whiteface. We've already entered the gate atrium." Forbroir watched the other skriba carefully. Meenoch shot Seem a murderous glare and marched away. Forbroir winked at her and cleared his throat. "Kuan ones, remove your coats in the atrium." He turned and motioned for the rest of the line to hurry.

The kuan in front of her turned around. "Nice one, Spitface."

"Don't call me that!" Seem pulled her goggles off.

"Are you really a girl?"

Humph. "Maybe. Does it matter?"

The kuan raised an eyebrow.

"Hurry up! The gate's going to shut." Seem pushed past him and ran through. The winds died. She tore her coat off, rolled it into a ball, and threw it on the floor.

"Hey!" Divaka appeared next to her. Black strands of hair stuck out from beneath his cap. "That's mine. At least put it on top of someone else's coat." Seem giggled and nudged the ball with her foot. Divaka pointed around the huge room. "Look at all those vehicles. I always wanted to be a wastelander."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Divaka rubbed the armor on his left forearm. "Spargus's known for its tough people, right? No one cares about the kuan anymore."

"Maybe you could run away," said Seem. She pulled at her robe. "Try to get into Haven. I've heard they have races there with machines, not leapers. You could drive a zoomer!"

Divaka shot her a look. "No one gets back into Haven. It's not so great anyway."

"What do you mean? Mommy said they have tons of water there."

"Your armor's crooked," said Divaka. He pulled her shin guards up.

"Did you used to live there?"

"Be quiet." Divaka stood and brushed his hands together. "After the ceremony we'll have a feast. I'll see you then." He turned and elbowed his way back to his place.

The kuan lined up once again. Valyder and the other skriba had adorned horned black headdresses studded with white eco crystals. Their long, embroidered scarves flowed out behind them in brilliant shades of orange. Another group of kuan, the kuan fel dorr, she guessed, wore yellow robes with a golden scarf wrapped around their waists.

The second gate rumbled and twisted open. Seem held her breath as she stepped back into the city of her birth. The curved buildings were lit up with hundreds of torches, and a few were strung with silver and tan ribbons. Citizens of Spargus walked in small bunches, talking about the feast. The women carried their guns as well as their husbands'. The men wore ammo magazines and cartridges across their chests. According to custom, no one but the royal couple-to-be was allowed to have loaded weapons. Everyone wore the best tan clothing they owned. A few even sported straps of expensive yakkow leather around their waists and boots. Children of the more successful wastelanders carried baskets of Metal Head skull gems.

Seem waved to a few of her sister's friends, but they didn't recognize her. They grinned and bowed. One pretended to be eaten by a Metal Head while the other mimed praying. Seem rolled her eyes.

The kuan filtered into the arena. Seem had been here a few times before to watch outsiders try to earn their citizenship. She had never imagined being on the floor. She clutched the sides of her robes; most of the metal plates were in place, but lava leaked through. She hopped across the cracks and looked up at the staggered seating.

The guests and armies from the Icelands sat on one side. Their ears were smaller and most of them had purple eyes. Quite a few were struggling to undo the complicated ties on their silver formal wear. Fur coats and leggings had been abandoned to the aisles. Their voices were smoother than what she was used to hearing. No sand to choke them, I guess. They complained about the heat with a strange accent.

On the other side, the citizens of Spargus sat comfortably. Children rode up and down the elevators, bringing skull gems to the arena floor and placing them in a huge pile across from the kuan. Seem thought she saw her family towards the top, but didn't dare wave.

In front of the pile, the royal couple sat in golden thrones. The prince was a huge man, his face flushed. Five servants fanned him, yet sweat darkened his silver tunic. Every few minutes he heaved a great sigh and shifted uncomfortably. The queen hunched in her throne, eyes almost closed, one hand under her chin. A royal attendant fussed with her tan and yakkow hide gown: pulling one layer this way, another that way, draping the fringed scarf across her shoulders just so. Her golden orange armor and crown clashed with her green hair and white eco crystal jewelry. With an annoyed grunt she waved the attendant away and picked at a spike on her wrist guard. Her giant Peacemaker lay across her lap, dwarfing the hunting rifle the prince had.

Seem glanced around and saw that the kuan were moving again. She hopped over to her new spot and stood facing the queen. The skriba surrounded the kuan sumna in a tight circle. The other kuan were holding their candles in their right hands. Seem swapped hers to the correct side.

An official from each land mass stood. The one in tan spoke first. "We gather here on this auspicious day, not only to celebrate the opening of a rejuvenated Spargus, but to wed her Queen to an ally of considerable power."

Seem tried listening for a while, but the two men used words she didn't know the meanings of. They talked about the commerce of both nations, the trade routes they used, and how much income the merchants brought in. Seem yawned, glanced around guiltily, and caught the queen doing the same.

"Queen Simia and Prince Forwyk, please rise."

Seem waited impatiently as the couple rose, kneeled, sat, rose, kneeled, rose, and sat. She tried her hardest to keep still. She quietly tapped one foot, hoping the ceremony would end soon.

Finally, Baromah hobbled to the thrones and bowed. "In the Chronicles of Mar's companion Dax, we often see marriage and battle as the halves of one struggle. Two opposing forces clash, drench the sandbeds with their life fluids, and reconcile. In his early journeys, Mar discovered the essence of a battle with the unseen. 'To illuminate the path to victory, we use the bodies of our enemies.' He traded skull gems to the mighty Oracles. 'In the light of the Precursors Mar bathed; unto him was bestowed the power to control his inner darkness.' In this same way, we implore the Precursors to grant our royalty clenched fists in marriage. May they rule in times of great triumph. To appease the Oracles and the Precursors entombed within, we sacrifice our skull gems."

The half of the arena from the Icelands groaned.

A dozen royal attendants poured dirt over the shining pile. The skriba each bowed in prayer and spoke in a different language. A ring of flames exploded at the edge of the pile. It flared and forked, eating its way through the skull gems. Heat rolled off in waves, saturating the air with a metallic scent. The soundless fire flashed. Seem liked how the green light illuminated the Icelanders' wide eyes. They were whispering to each other, pointing at the flames. The prince edged away from it in his seat.

The kuan approached one by one, lighting their candles. Seem held her breath and stretched her arm out as far as possible. The wick caught fire easily. She held the candle up and bowed.

The kuan sumna raised his hands and spoke. Valyder's booming translation echoed throughout the arena. "To our new brothers and sisters, we open our home. The Precursors are smiling, for Spargus is no longer the single beacon of the desert…"

The kuan sumna's speech was endless. Seem's arm ached. She struggled to hold the candle up. She glanced at Divaka. His free hand twitched ever so slightly. The pebbles and bits of hardened lava at his feet danced. Occasionally, one was sent at considerable velocity towards the leg of a neighboring kuan. Divaka grinned.

"…from the sand's scalding embrace to the ice's frigid kiss." The kuan sumna bowed his head. Valyder and the skriba walked around the fire, blessing it. Once it had been circled three times, Baromah extended one hand to the queen.

"May the Precursors stand guard over your city, your life, and your womb, from whence our next king shall arise."

The queen regarded him with unamused eyes. Each skriba took her hand and repeated the blessing. Then they retreated behind the kuan fel, who began chanting. Seem copied the other kuan as they spun and wove around each other in circles. She didn't know the words, but hummed along. As she passed Divaka, he wiggled his ears at her. The chanting grew louder and louder. Audience members who knew the prayer joined along.

Then the elevators shuddered to life. Half the arena cheered as Spargus musicians descended to the floor. Two dozen of these, the swishers, shook their baskets filled with sand. The walls of the baskets were layered and woven differently; each had its own pitch. Some were almost as tall as the men who played them. The drummers and swishers arranged their instruments in concentric circles. They started with a traditional Desert Breeze song. The kuan slowed, tossed their candles into the fire, and gathered around the throne.

As the song ended, the Spargus citizens stomped and shouted for Rolling Thunder. The musicians glanced at the queen.

"For Mar's sake, play something with a beat," she snapped. "This has been the dullest day of my life."

The prince nodded. The lead musician shrugged. A few of the older ones frowned, but assented. The drummers pounded their instruments for all they were worth, grinning like mad. Seem shut her eyes and imagined sand storms racing across the dunes, uncovering huge Precursor buildings.

Not to be outdone, the Icelandic orchestra assembled across from them. They played instruments Seem had never seen before; high-pitched metal strings stretched across carved wooden boxes, huge horns and a beautiful stringed instrument a woman lay across her lap and danced her fingertips over.

The music twisted and shone, vibrant sounds Seem had never heard before. The Icelandic women stood and sang from their seats. For the first time, the prince smiled. The queen grinned, seized her Peacemaker, and fired into the air. At that, the citizens of Spargus streamed down the aisles and jumped to the arena floor. Spinning, guns and all, they shrieked and laughed. Shakers abandoned their positions and wandered through the dancing crowd, shaking their baskets at the pretty girls.

Once the floor plates had been fully extended, the Icelanders joined the dance. Their steps were faster than the whirling glides of their new comrades. Servants set up tables of food along the periphery. Seem's mouth watered. Breads and meat and cactus pie! She looked around the circle of kuan. Divaka was staring at the tables, eyes glazed over. When do we get to dance and eat?

Minutes passed. Seem shifted from one foot to the other, her stomach growling. Why isn't anyone getting food? The skriba all stood, calmly watching the chaos on the floor. This stinks! We walked all the way here and don't get to dance? Very slowly, she edged around the kuan.

I'm small. They won't miss me.

Seem ran out and joined the mix, dancing and avoiding firearms. The skriba stared in shock. Divaka laughed, shrugged, and sprinted after her.

"Get back in your place!" screamed Meenoch.

A few of the young kuan hesitated, then jumped in. The older kuan looked at their leaders with questioning eyes. Forbroir smiled and waved. The kuan flooded the arena floor.

Seem shoved pastries into her mouth and whirled over to the Icelands orchestra. Around the edge of the arena, the male mauraders and wastelanders engaged in false battle. Guns were wielded like clubs; an occasional blow could be heard above the din when one found its mark.

"What's that?" Seem screamed. The Icelandic woman playing the instrument bowed her head.

"Hello, young monk," she screamed back. The musicians behind her laughed. She took Seem's hand. "This is a tsuethyr. Play like this." The woman raked Seem's fingers across the strings.

"Neat!" Crumbs flew everywhere as Seem plucked the strings. The woman brushed some off her silver blouse. Out of the corner of her eye, Seem saw Divaka struggling between two huge wastelanders. "Thank you!" She bowed and turned.

"C'mon!" shouted Divaka. He grabbed her arm.

"What's wrong? Are we leaving?"

"No! They're running out of food!"

Seem laughed and they pressed through the crowd.