RuTing led the way with her hand on her hilt. She no longer wore the recognizable Free Person exosuit in forest camo. That would be an obvious giveaway of her origins. They didn’t think they could pass for Zeusopolans so they trusted Cherry to disguise them as a band of mixed merchants selling high-quality goods. She and Paris were soldiers of fortune. She adhered to a Warrior Goddess and wore a stiff leather bodice with steel ribbing. Her short leather skirt was cut into braided strips, giving her legs ultimate freedom of movement. She wore leather bracers with metal plates, and her greaves were similar. Cherry added emblems of the Warrior Goddess, but the armor had vital gaps.

  “My shoulders and breasts are exposed,” she said. “I can’t believe a female warrior society would wear this. It looks like it was designed by a man.”

  “That is what it's supposed to look like,” Cherry said.

  Cherry disagreed, but RuTing made alterations. The leather wrapped around her neck and shoulders with hidden metal plates. The exposed metal was stainless steel, the easiest metal for Fintan to manifest. The plates and ribbing embedded into the armor were titanium—much more expensive and difficult to manifest.

  It was agreed that RuTing would lead from the front. She had the best chance of covering them all with an illusion from there. She was also more likely to be the first in a confrontation. If Paris was a true Zeusopolan warrior he could have hurled lighting bolts from the back. If they were attacked with a technology weapon he would have the element of surprise.

  Paris was grateful for his rescue, but his desire to unite with fellow technomancers was undisguised. They did not hide their plans from him, and RuTing thought he very well might remain in Yuxia.

  Each of the cities she’d seen was incomparable to the freedom and prosperity of the Union, but from his perspective, there were always poor and weak who suffered under the whip of the elite. Yuxia didn’t have slaves. He considered that a mark in their favor.

  “Running from your problems doesn’t fix them,” Paris said. “That was the mistake I made in life. If Yuxia has problems, then I should be part of the solution. The Builder would not stop.”

  His sentiments were almost Union, but the Guannei knew that even the People needed them. Some problems could not be fixed from the inside. Although she’d given up that part of her life, she believed in their purpose.

  Fintan gripped the tongue of the cart and played as if the weight had meaning for him while Cherry sat on a board across the center. He wore a wide hat, although there was no sun. Hats were popular amongst all the foreigners and the city. The afterlife was warm, and the plants were tropical, although the drought around the city reduced their growth to weeds.

  His grandfather’s overcoat was folded and stored in the cart. His poniard was wrapped around his wrist with a leather strap. He wanted a spring-loaded launcher to put the knife in his grip, but they tried and failed to build a working model. Her skill to Append had interesting implications. In one of her attempts, she created a gummy elastic connection.

  If the rest of them were dressed as servants, then Cherry was the merchant. She wore a pink sari with cream ruffles, and her hair transformed into tight curls. She complained about the stiff seat and held a matching parasol.

  She didn’t give them the name of the land she claimed to be from, only that it was far away. She held a titled Book of Wisdom which she transcribed from memory. Most of the pages were empty, but it was just for show. According to Cherry, worshippers of law and wisdom were few and far away. She might not be recognized at all.

  RuTing had other thoughts about Cherry’s disguise, but she kept them to herself to maintain the peace.

  They were a small band in a long line, and most of the traders didn’t look like they came from Yuxia. There was nothing about them physically that stood out, but they wore all different clothing.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  A gunshot in front of RuTing heightened her sense, and she spun around the cart to get a better view.

  “A misfire,” Cherry said calmly. “You didn’t think Bannerburg was the only city with petrol engines?”

  “How many have advanced technology?” Fintan asked.

  “Quite a few like Bannerburg. The colonies use occupation like a caste system.”

  “A few ogres would have been able to move the overturned trolley,” Fintan said. “They don’t work together.”

  “They don’t anymore. The mists grease the wheels. They can afford conflict because anyone can manifest what they need.”

  Left unsaid was the Adversary. Cherry told them not to speak of the God. All the cities close to them served the Adversary. Fintan didn’t understand why. He didn’t stop them from fighting. He was a banner figure. The other Gods abandoned the afterlife, but the Adversary remained.

  When they reached the front of the line, a bored-looking accountant scanned their cart. The stack of foils weighed heavily on his thick arm muscles, and he etched into the foil with a scraper. They had to unbox several of the gold spools. His deeply lined face brightened visibly at the yellow thread.

  “Gold?” he said. “What a magnificent product. Are these for the communication nodes?”

  “Of course,” Cherry said.

  RuTing was certain Cherry had no idea what a communication node was. She was from the Union, but that was centuries ago. She hadn’t talked about her time among the living, but RuTing expected she was some kind of analyst or documentation tech.

  “Are they all gold?”

  “Silver, too.”

  “If I might ask your name, sir?” Fintan inquired.

  “WeiZheng,” the accountant mumbled. None of the other merchants talked to the accountant. They made their declarations, paid their gilders, and entered the city.

  None of them were carrying gold in this quantity. WeiZheng counted each box and inspected a few.

  “Impressive packaging,” he said as he etched numbers. He double-checked his multiplication tables to be certain. “Your tariff is forty gilders. Additional fees will apply if you open a sale to the market.”

  RuTing wasn’t sure what that meant, but she knew this was where the problems would begin. Over the last few weeks, Fintan manifested twenty-five gilders along with the metal for their disguise. They didn’t have enough to pay the tariff. They’d seen other loads taken away by the guards. Sometimes, the guards took the traders as well. RuTing’s hand tightened on her sword. They might need to make a run for it.

  “What happens if I can only pay you twenty?”

  “I will have to impound the part of the shipment.”

  “We can get it back?” Fintan asked.

  “Of course,” WeiZheng said. “Every day the bill remains unpaid you will be charged five percent of the total amount for storage. In fifteen days, if the bill remains unpaid, the product will confiscated by the Adversary.”

  “The Adversary will take my thread?” Cherry said. Her voice broke character, inching upward an octave. Her years in Bannerburg instilled animosity to the Adversary. RuTing and Fintan weren’t far behind. Paris was ambivalent.

  “That’s the trade agreement,” WeiZheng said. “We don’t have room for all these goods. Your thread will be sent to Heaven. Pay your tariffs, and it will return.”

  The guards brought a fresh wagon, and the gold and silver thread was divided. In the end, they had over thirty percent. WeiZheng thought they would find a buyer quickly, so he made a note on his foil to watch for their return.

  They waited in another line with restless merchants to watch Cherry’s thread get sent to heaven. The cart was transferred to a wall-eyed man in a black robe.

  His startling stare would have been offputting, but RuTing held steady, although she was unsure how to meet his gaze. His irises were square, and two points like small horns jutted from under the black cotton fabric of his hood.

  The cart's weight was nothing for Fintan, and RuTing thought this stranger would struggle with half the load, but his hand rested easily on the wagon. He pulled it behind him as if it was a child’s toy. The white gravel stones dyed red with the dried, crusted blood were no obstacle for his steel-shod hooves.

  “An Acolyte of the Adversary,” Cherry whispered. Her voice was too quiet for most ears, but RuTing saw a twitch of a large ear under the hood.

  The Acolyte did not turn around. He brought the wagon to the stone ramp and platform. In front of them was a gateway to another world.

  In this vision, the mists were thick and floating upward, and the sky was crystal blue. Thousands of Acolytes with different insignia sorted wagons on a marble colonnade. In the distance, RuTing saw mansions in the clouds.

  This was not the afterlife of the Guannei, but she’d read of heaven in the ancient texts, and this was similar to what they described. The marble steps made all the magnificence of Bannerburg and Zeusopolis look like a poor comparison, and thousands of feet in the sky, she saw the vortex and Home of the Gods.

  “Behold the vision of Zakarat,” an Acolyte intoned. “The holy mountain of the Gods where the memory of life is showered on the Blessed.”

  The portal swallowed their cart along with several others before an Acolyte on this side of the portal turned knobs on an ancient computer.

  RuTing didn’t know a lot about computers. Most technologies, like the net, were forbidden to the Guannei. They were immune to The Peace, and the Union feared that they would lose control of them.