Chapter 5: Trouble in Yamuk

In which Timir gets mistaken for an Aramban.

May 18, 2026

Sueila a month behind him, Timir had walked, hitched rides on passing carts (granted more out of fear than kindness), and eventually made his way into a sparse forest before finding himself on a hill overlooking ruins that seemed to have been carved into the hills.

Ugr on shoulder, he descended into the city and soon found an old man carrying a basket full of berries, “You there dada! What is this place called?”

“Yamuk, Lord Kastha’s domain,” he replied, looking Timir up and down. “Arambans are not welcome here.”

“I am neither Aramban nor friend to Aramba,” Timir replied with as much of a smile as he could afford. “This Lord Kastha of yours seems a good man.”

“The most powerful of jadukars,” the old man said, laying down the basket. “Feared by all who would threaten us and steal from us. Even giants such as you are as rodents before his might.”

“I am certain that is true,” Timir nodded and walked on, as he had learned to do when friendly smiles did nothing to make people fear him less. All he wanted from this Yamuk was a soft bed to sleep in and perhaps a haircut.

Yamuk paled before the majesty of the ruins it lived inside. People milled about in streets between rows of brick houses built in the shadow of ancient stone walls that seemed to have been raised, Timir figured, by the Daityas themselves. Thanks to Koru, Timir had an awareness of the history of the world, and even though it wasn’t a set of perfect memories because the god resting inside him was as reticent as they came, it was good enough for him to be able to tell old from new.

The bathhouse for example, and the fruit and fish vendors that lined its gates, were entirely inside a temple. Timir was quite sure the main bath, full of townsfolk of all ages right now, had once been a ceremonial pool of some kind. He considered a dip before deciding he needed sleep more.

“I am not of the Aramban empire,” he said to the innkeeper when the lady eyed him suspiciously instead of answering his request for a room.

“That’s exactly what an Aramban spy would say.”

“While wearing Aramban colours?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“They would more likely demand that you give them the room and kill you if you said no.”

“And you wouldn’t?”

“Never.”

“So if I told you to go away, you would?”

“Absolutely I would.”

“Then go away.”

Timir swore under his breath, then sighed and plunked a small bag of Aramban gold on the counting table between them. The lady examined one of the coins and didn’t make a fuss even when she clearly recognised the Aramban seal on it. Gold was gold.

“Still want me to go away?”

The innkeeper hesitated before speaking, “We have girls…”

“A bed will suffice.”

The bed in the upstairs room was the best she had, and it was too small. It shrieked something birdlike every time Timir made the slightest turn. It also didn’t help that the room had a large window that let in the yelling of hawkers and passers-by from the street below. Timir dragged the mattress out of the bed and was trying to fall asleep on the floor when the sound of clattering right outside the door made him sit up.

A woman was picking up a mug from the floor, risking everything else on the tray she was holding in her other hand. When Timir took it from her, she gasped.

“I am sorry sir. Lady Arni sent food for you and asked me to…”

“I didn’t ask for food,” Timir rested the tray on the small table and allowed the aroma of its contents to negotiate with his fatigue. Maybe he did need to eat.

“I have never been with an Aramban,” the woman said, entering the room and closing the door behind her.

Timir turned, stared at her, swore, and rubbed his forehead to keep from yelling obscenities at the lady downstairs, whose name apparently was Arni.

“What’s your name, friend?”

“Dwara.”

“I ate part of a large tree animal only a few hours ago Dwara, so I am not that hungry. You have brought me civilised food and it would sadden me to have it go waste. Will you share this meal with me and tell me about this Yamuk of yours?”

A little light showed on Dwara’s face. “But Lady Arni…”

“Lady Arni can go f…” Timir stopped himself, took a deep breath, and resumed more calmly. “I mean… if you need me to lie to her, I will.”

The loaves were oven fresh and the gravy hot. Dwara informed Timir that the fish was from the lake at the centre of the town. “Sacred waters. Impossible to fish in without permission from Lord Kastha.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t really know,” she replied between bites. “I remember playing by the water when I was a girl. But there was an outbreak once. Worm fever. Horrid disease! It took Lord Kastha four years but he cured the town. Afterwards, people were told to stay away from the lake. Probably for the best. Lord Kastha knows what he is doing.”

“I am sure he is,” Timir said, placing his bowl down and pouring himself a mug of something purple and white with visible glee.

“You are not like any Aramban I ever heard of,” Dwara said, her mouth full of bread.

“What have you heard?”

“That they’re cruel and evil and use dark magics.”

“And you know for a fact that I am none of those things?”

Dwara nodded.

“I am not Aramban, Dwara. I have met many though, and some of them are almost as pleasant as you.”

Dwara stared at him as she resumed eating. Timir returned to his drink and was about to ask her what he was drinking when the door flung open with a crash and four men barged in wielding swords and sticks.

“Come with us Aramban,” said the one in the cleanest clothes, one of the swords. “Lord Kastha wishes to see you.”

“Why?” Timir asked, standing up to face the men. Despite their bluster, they had clearly tip-toed all the way up the stairs.

“We do not answer to you, Aramban!”

“He is not Aramban,” Dwara said, rising.

“Silence, whore!” shouted one of the others and lifted his stick to swing at her. Timir’s left arm shot out and grabbed him by the neck. The stick clattered to the floor as the man fumbled against the fingers around his neck before reaching into his belt and drawing a knife.

Before he could cut at anything though, Timir flung him bodily out of the window, into the busy street below. A crash ended his scream, and for a moment, even the hawkers were silent.

Timir turned to the remaining three, frozen in alarm, and spoke calmly, "Wait for me downstairs. My friend and I wish to finish our meal."