Note: This is part of a series of short stories based in the world of Ivanturia. The primary purpose of the stories is to explore the world, so more focus has been given to that than plot.

Previous Story

Kish watched an elephant stroll up to the half-finished wall of the building, a load of bricks swaying on its back. Two monkeys hung onto the sides, laughing at each other. When the elephant came to a stop, they leapt to the top of it and began passing the bricks down to men at the elephant’s base. These men stacked the bricks neatly near the wall.

“That’s the last shipment, sir,” Stente, Kish’s assistant, informed him. As foreman of the work site, Kish chose when it was quitting time, and the men were growing tired. However, Stente had learned the hard way that subtle hints worked far better than direct requests.

“Good. Have them start cleaning up, we’ll lay the bricks tomorrow,” Kish answered. Stente jogged off calling out the instructions to those he passed. Kish watched the human as he left. He had even darker skin than most humans, from long days in the sun, which matched his short brown hair. Smiling, Kish shook his head, feeling the wind rush through the thick fur on his head. Even with the wind, he had to twitch his ears to scare the flies off of them. Compared to humans, the karshi’s luscious fur and beautiful pointed ears looked so much better. A sound from behind him attracted Kish’s attention. The two monkeys had unlatched the carrier from the elephant’s back, and then dropped to the ground with it. Almost immediately, they began glowing bright white, and their form seeming to melt away, before instantly congealing into a human shape. Beside them, the elephant, in a much larger ball of white light, also returned to humanoid form. Together they stashed the carrier in a safe place, and walked off to help the others.

Kish followed them, pulling away from his thoughts and back into his job. He inspected each area with a careful eye. His men made him proud, even if he would never let them know it. Only in the Cerela guild’s territory could you find such intricate artistry, done with such precision. When you could have a mouse patch up your holes, a hawk carry your messages, and a monkey lay your roofing beams, you could create the greatest buildings ever. He noted each worker, nodding to them as he passed. Moosh dropped from his usual perch near the top of the building, in cat form. Behind him Kush, in sparrow form, swooped past the cat, flicking Moosh’s ears with her wings. With a quick bound, Moosh leapt for the sparrow, but Kush dived out of the way quickly, before returning to karshi form, laughing amiably. Moosh resumed his own normal form, and joined his friend as they walked away for roll call.

“Sir!” Kish’s assistant, Stente, called. He really needs to learn to handle things by himself, Kish grumbled.

“Yes,” he half-growled.

Stente continued, non-plussed, “We’re missing Rato. Dosl was working with him, but said he vanished after they split up for the last job.”

Kish furrowed his forehead (you don’t have eyebrows when you have fur all over your face). “Rato’s a mouse, correct? Where was he working?”

Stente nodded. “He and Dosl had been patching cement cracks on the second floor, then they split up to finish whatever the settling had left on the first floor.” Kish nodded, and began jogging towards the group of workmen waiting to be let off.

“Missing man: Rato.” Kish barked. “Spread out and search. He’s karshi, with mouse form.” The group of workers broke apart, pairs and triplets spreading out to search for the missing karshi.

Kish turned towards Stente, “Do we have any evidence for foul play?” he whispered.

Stente paused for a minute before answering, “We did have a Freelancer join the crew today.”

“One of those? Should’ve known that would cause trouble. What did you assign him to?”

“Stacking bricks, passing materials, ground-level work basically.” Kish grunted, then stalked off to search for the missing man. But he didn’t have to look long.

“Boss!” Kush called, her feminine voice standing out from the crowd of men. “We have someone for you!” She and Moosh had the Freelancer, a human, by the arms, and were dragging him towards Kish. The Freelancer had light skin and hair for a human, with bright blue eyes. Probably had Svartalfar blood.

“What’s your name?” Kish demanded.

The freelancer looked up, a bruise rapidly developing over one part of his cheek, “Desgra, sir.”

“What were you doing with Rato?”

“Nothin–”, Desgra began, but Moosh cut him off. “We found him staring down into the wall space from an access hole on the second floor. He had no business being up there!”

“You told us–” Desgra tried, but Kish ignored him, “Really? Stente had him assigned to ground-level work only.”

Moosh didn’t even let Desgra start this time, “Bring him to the judge! We can’t let this go!” A general cry of a agreement rose from the group of workers, drowning out Desgra’s protests. Someone found a piece of cloth and gagged him with it, ending any hope of defense. A Karshi with a lion form offered to transport the Freelancer, so Moosh and Kish happily strapped the man onto the beast’s bony back.

As the group, led by Kish, moved towards the center of the town, other Cerelans joined the jeering crowd. A cat weaved its way through the crowd, leaping up and leaving a long scratch on Desgra’s arm. Just a little later, a weasel scurried up the lion’s tail, and began batting at the prisoner’s eyes. Kish couldn’t stand freelancers himself, but he contented himself to jeering and insults.

Each new member of the group heard the story afresh. The Freelancer on the Lion, yes the very one they could see in front of them, had murdered a defenseless Cerelan. They had found him with a mouse’s tail sticking out of his mouth. And blood all over his boot. None of the workers had even seen him before the alarm went up. They found mouse blood all over his hands. He had been so brash as to force the poor man to return to human form so there would be more blood. Each iteration of the story grew, and by the time the crowd arrived at the judge’s house, a monster greater than any Cerelan form had emerged.

The unfortunate judge had just stopped his work for the day and was enjoying a rest before traveling on to the next town. He called for the people to wait for tomorrow, but after a short conversation the judge realized the convict wouldn’t last that long.

“Fine,” the judge finally said. “Bring him to the courthouse. And someone call a doctor. I don’t want any blood on the town hall’s floor.”