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"First Meetings" By Raska Kannagami

Chiyo hummed softly to herself as she wandered the marketplace. There were few others there, most were at home preparing for Daikor, the Camean midwinter holiday that celebrated the coming spring. Traditionally, Daikor was celebrated outdoors, at large clan gatherings around massive bonfires. However in Dogacúiléol, there was little enough room for such gatherings, so here the holiday was celebrated indoors by most, though fire and the clan were still a part.

Chiyo was from Corain Clan, a large, affluent clan that was one of the few Noble Houses remaining in Dogacúiléol. She was not a princess, though her father certainly treated her like one. She had never had cause to want, because she could get anything she desired simply by asking.

With this pampering, also came protection. Her father never let her stray far from his protection, and he made sure she never knew anything other than the pampered world of an aristocrat. Like all teens, she chafed under these limitations as she got older. It finally culminated that morning with an argument. Chiyo wanted to go to Sorsaía, the mage school, and learn to become a Healer like her mother. Her father, naturally, didn't want her to leave. She'd angrily stormed out of the house and had decided to wander around the market, hoping the quiet streets and gently falling snow would help her clear her mind.

The Dogacúiléol marketplace was huge. Spanning at last five streets and two city Districts, it was the largest such market in Camea. This was unsurprising, considering that Dogacúiléol was the first stop for trade from Kazan and Etidéol. This gave Chiyo plenty of space to wander, and occasionally she could stop by the few merchants still open with Daikor so near.

In fact, she decided it would be pleasant to stop by the stall of an Otani merchant she knew. The old Otani had sold his teas and herbs in the market for as long as Chiyo had been alive. Longer, in fact. He was nearing his third century, which was quite old for an Otani - the oldest Otani on record had only lived to be three-hundred-and-sixty-six. It was a respectable age for a Durrow as well, few Durrow lived longer than four centuries. She liked Guther. He always had a different tea brewing, and always had either a story to tell, or a sympathetic ear to listen. Chiyo had always seen him as very kind and grandfatherly.

As she neared Guther's stall, she heard the sounds of an angry argument. As she got closer to the altercation, she could make out what they were saying, with some difficulty. Difficulty, because the argument was in Kazat. Since she'd grown up in Dogacúiléol, she understood Kazat to a degree, but she was far from fluent. She never got to wander in the parts of the city where Kazat was spoken more than Durric. Listening in to the argument was made slightly easier by the Durric mixed in with the Kazat.

"...know you did it! Stupid, lying Daisorasi like you are always stealin' stuff!"

This was spoken by a Kazani shopkeeper. He was the same height as Chiyo, meaning he was around five foot something. Kazani were generally shorter than Durrow at their adult height, which made this one anomalously tall. The shopkeeper wore only a long tunic that just barely reached below his groin. If he weren't Kazani, Chiyo would have wondered how he could stand the cold. Even Durrow needed clothing in this kind of weather, insulation in addition their fur. Camea's winters were that cold. Kazani, on the other paw, came from Kazan, to Camea's north. Kazan was a desolate, icy wasteland populated by snow, ice, glaciers, the Kazani, and more snow. This weather was probably tropical to them, in comparison to their homeland.

"What did you call me, old man?"

The other participant in the argument was a short Durrow boy. At first, Chiyo thought him to be around ten, considering his height, but somehow she knew he was closer to her own age. He seemed to be almost exactly four feet tall, which was a whole foot and some inches shorter than either Chiyo or the Kazani. He was thin, with an astonishing lack of fat of any kind. For a Durrow, that was unhealthy. He had to be starving. He was also completely naked except for a Jaras - a silk scarf that was generally given to soldiers who have completed their three years of obligatory military service and had chosen voluntarily to take another three years. It was also sometimes worn by members of the upper class as a status symbol. The boy didn't look old enough to have undertaken military service, and he wouldn't be naked in this weather if he were upper class. In the summer, his nudity wouldn't have been commented on by anyone. The summers in Camea were as hot as the winters were cold, and nearly everyone eschewed clothing during those months. But now? When it was almost midwinter? Was the boy out of his mind...or was he that poor?

"You heard me, brat! I said da-i-so-ra," the shopkeeper snarled, enunciating each syllable of the word.

Chiyo was shocked. The word was a deadly insult. It meant 'half-person', and implied that one was half-bred. She only knew this because one of her father's friends had gotten drunk and spat the insult at his brother's wife when she suggested he'd been drinking too much. Chiyo remembered vividly that her father had broken his nose, shoulder, and several ribs trying to break up the ensuing fight between the brothers.

The Durrow boy leapt at the shopkeeper, moving faster than Chiyo would have believed possible. At first the Kazani was taken by surprise and was knocked to the ground under the boy's surprisingly strong tackle. The boy got in a few solid punches before the Kazani got his wits about him and retaliated.

Chiyo's first reaction was to not get involved - her father had broken his nose trying to break up a fight precipitated with that insult - and to quickly find a Guardsman to deal with it. Then the Kazani unsheathed his claws and began to fight in earnest. Durrow claws, while sharp, were not meant for attacking with like Kazani claws were. That shopkeeper would tear the boy's throat out if she didn't do something.

In her mind she quickly prepared a spell and cast it. It was one her mother had taught her, meant for restraining patients who were - or could be - a danger to themselves or others. It prevented any movement except for the motion of the chest necessary for breathing.

As she approached the thoroughly startled combatants, she noticed several things. One was that the Durrow boy had several deep gashes in his shoulders, neck, and forearm - all of which were the work of the Kazani's claws. They weren't regenerating, which was weird but Chiyo thought she knew why. Durrow healed in a very unique way, they regenerated. Since this was costly in terms of bodily resources, their bodies were naturally inclined to gain fat reserves which could be converted into energy for regenerating. This was why, despite the extremely active lifestyle of most Durrow, they never had absolutely zero fat. At least, not if they were healthy. This Durrow boy was obviously on the brink of starving, his body didn't have the resources to regenerate his injuries. Since no clan would let one of their own starve so, Chiyo figured he must be clanless.

"You two should be ashamed!" Chiyo announced to them, trying to use the same tone her mother used when admonishing her and her brothers, "Fighting in the streets like this, with Daikor not two days away! You both should know better. Now, I have two options here: I could leave you two here, and go fetch a Guardsman to come arrest you both. You, Kazani, you will probably lose your mercantile license. I don't need to tell you how much the officials will care about your justifications once they know you're Kazani. And you, boy, while he can probably bribe his way out of spending time in the stockades, you look like you don't have a single copper piece to your name. You'll probably end up with a week in the stockades for yourself and then a week for him."

She let that sink in. With her demeanor, she seemed to be a shorter version of her mother, and her mother was known as a brook-no-arguments type. Some of her mother's patients called her "Corain-jaosan iliat", "scary Dr. Corain".

"...my other option is that I let you both go, you both forget this quarrel and whatever started it, and you go your separate ways. What do you say?" She released her spell enough that they would be able to talk.

The two looked at each other, then at Chiyo, and then looked at each other again. "Chos!" they said simultaneously. The word was Kazat, and meant something like 'fine, but I don't like it' or 'whatever'.

She released the spell and they collapsed awkwardly on top of each other. As they got up, still glaring at each other, the shopkeeper spat, "I hope you don't expect me to touch noses and make up with this...ngwasi." Chiyo didn't recognize the word, but it didn't sound polite. She was probably better off not knowing it, she decided with a frown.

"No, but I do expect you to leave each other alone," she replied to him, still frowning.

"Chos," the Kazani snarled, and walked back into his shop, slamming the door.

Chiyo's attention turned to the Durrow boy, who was studiously examining his injuries and trying very hard not to draw Chiyo's attention.

"Are you alright?" Chiyo asked him.

He glanced up at her, "Yes, it feels like sunshine and daisies when I get cuts. Isn't it that way for everybody?" The sarcasm was obvious.

Chiyo's ears flattened and she growled at him, "If that's how you're going to be, then fine! I won't Heal you. Bleed to death, see if I care!"

He immediately looked abashed, "I'm sorry. Will you Heal me? Please?"

"Why should I?" Chiyo asked, still angry at his earlier rudeness, "You're rude and dirty. Besides, they'll heal on their own eventually, just put bandages on them."

"I don't have bandages," he said, looking at her imploringly.

"You could use that Jaras."

His paw reflexively went to the Jaras and Chiyo saw the emotions flash across his face, as much as he tried to hide them. Pain, loss, sorrow, "It was Godaiji's. It's bad enough it's gotten so raggedy..."

She pitied him, then, cold and alone and with no clan to care for him. She took his paw into her own, and concentrated. It only took a moment for her to feel the tingle and rush of adrenaline that accompanied regeneration, but this time it wasn't herself that was regenerating. It only took a few seconds, but when it was done, Chiyo felt like she had been running for days. She was exhausted, and suddenly ravenously hungry, her body craving the energy she'd used up.

"What is your name?" she asked him.

"Maro Nidenar," he replied. The clan name was obviously made up, as it meant "houseless". His first name meant 'myself' in Durric, but the way Maro said it made Chiyo think it was also a Kazat word.

"What does your name mean?" she asked, "You said 'MA-roh', not 'MA-raugh'...like the name's Kazat, not Durric."

He smiled briefly, "Clever, aren't you? It means 'fearless' in Kazat."

There was a brief awkward silence, and then Chiyo said, "Do you want to get some food? I'm hungry, and I'm pretty sure you can't remember the last time you ate."

Maro's ears flitted flat and then back to normal, a sign of annoyance. He turned and began walking away, "I don't have the money." After a moment, Chiyo followed him.

"The money doesn't matter, I can pay," She told him.

"I don't make a habit of owing people," he replied, neither stopping nor glancing back at her.

"If you don't like to owe, why'd you let me Heal you?" At this, Maro did stop, "Chos. If I come eat with you, will we be even for the Healing?" Chiyo nodded.

Chiyo led Maro to a large tavern whose food was known for being both delicious and fairly inexpensive for the quality. That wasn't to say it was cheap, though.

When Maro entered the establishment, he gawked at the opulent setting. The main dining room was littered with cushions for the guests to use, and there were at least four dozen small tables which were low to the ground. The tables were unusual for a Durrow establishment, suggesting that the owner was not Durrow himself. It was more than a suggestion, as the fact that all of the serving team seemed to be Otani, and there were Otani decorations covering the walls...it all spoke of an Otani owner.

Regardless of who owned it, the place was obviously popular, as the many guests of various races attested. Maro stood by awkwardly, waiting for Chiyo to do something. He didn't know how to act in a place like this.

Chiyo flagged the attention of one of the servers, who came over to them with a warm smile, "Aio, Chiyo, how are you today?"

Chiyo returned the server's smile, "I'm well, Natani, how are you? You seem unusually busy today."

The Otani girl laughed, "We sure are. Are you looking for a table?"

Chiyo nodded, "For two," she said, gesturing toward Maro.

Natani appraised Maro coolly and chuckled, "Has he met your father yet?"

Chiyo's ears reddened as she stammered, "It's n-n-not like that." Natani only chuckled again and led them to a table. The entire time they were crossing the room, Maro felt self-conscious. Not because of his nudity - here in Camea that evoked no comment. Instead, he was self-conscious because all the guests in the room were upper class, presumably like Chiyo. He stood out like a dead rat in butter...because he was a rat, so to speak - a street rat.

When they were seated, Chiyo ordered a platter of aizu, a sushi-like dish with meat instead of fish. While they waited for the food to arrive, Maro fidgeted constantly. Finally, Chiyo asked him what was the matter.

"I don't belong here," he said, "I'm a street brat, not like all these...rich folk."

Chiyo scoffed, "Don't worry about it."

Maro nodded and quit fidgeting, though his scent and body language told Chiyo he was still uncomfortable. To distract him, Chiyo asked how the argument with the shopkeeper had gotten started.

Maro growled softly, "He accused me of shoplifting. I denied it, but he wouldn't leave it go."

Chiyo had to laugh, "If you'd stolen something, where would you hide it? Under your Jaras?"

Maro grinned, "That's what I'd said. He seemed convinced I had hidden the whatever somewhere...in the ten seconds between me leaving the store and him confronting me on the street. I think he just didn't like me 'cause I'm Daisora."

Chiyo was surprised to hear Maro use the term so casually, especially considering he'd just gotten into a fight because someone had called him it.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

In reply, Maro held up his paw and unsheathed five retractable claws just like a Kazani's, "What, did you think I was short just because I didn't eat my bones when I was little?"

"Oh," Chiyo said, not really knowing what else to say.

Maro, surprisingly, grinned at her, "I bet you were wondering how I could stand the cold. My fur might look Durrow, but it's thick like a Kazani's. It's a real pain in the summer, though."

Chiyo nodded, "So who..."

"Godaiji was a Cameani Kazani, Godeiji was Durrow," Maro replied, answering her unfinished question. Chiyo noticed he used the Durric words for 'daddy' and 'mommy' respectively, instead of saying 'Father' and 'Mother' like a boy his age should.

Just as Maro said that, Natani arrived with the food, "Sorry it took longer than expected, there was a mix-up with the order," she explained, offering them an apologetic smile.

"It's alright, Natani. We didn't notice," Chiyo assured her friend. With a smile, Natani left, seeing to her other tables.

Maro dug into the food immediately. As Chiyo expected, he was quite hungry. Biting into a piece of meat, his eyes widened, "This is cicisóie!" It was the Durric word for raw meat, though it would be better translated as 'fresh off the bone', "This is expensive!"

Chiyo rolled her eyes at him, "What did you expect a place like this to serve, rat meat?" She asked sarcastically, biting into a piece of her own and licking the blood off her fingers.

Around a mouthful of food, Maro replied, "I didn't expect it to taste so good," he swallowed, "I haven't had fresh meat in...a long time. How the hell are you paying for this?"

"With money, duh," Chiyo replied, selecting another piece, "Don't worry that pretty head of yours, enjoy the meal."

Maro picked up one of the two bones that were the centerpiece of the platter, and which were presumably the very same from which their meal had been cut. They were a matched pair, Chiyo recognized them as being bones of the upper 'arm' of the animal. "Your family must be very well off," he ventured, nibbling a few remaining bits of meat off the bone.

"You could say that," Chiyo replied, suddenly uncomfortable with the topic.

Maro set the bone between his teeth and cracked it. Holding each end in one paw, he greedily slurped the marrow out, occasionally further cracking the bone and swallowing the calcium-rich fragments. When he was done, only the knobby, hard-to-break ends of the bone were left. His muzzle was covered in splattered marrow. He selected another piece of meat, "So...who are you, anyways? You never told me your name."

"I am Chiyo Corain, of Corain House," she replied. Maro nearly choked on his food.

"Corain House!? No wonder you can pay for this!"

"It's not that big a deal," Chiyo said, her ears briefly flattening and perking again.

Maro noticed the hint, and they spent the next few minutes of their meal in silence. At least, until Chiyo broke the silence by cracking into the other bone. After slurping some marrow out, she asked, "Do you have a place to stay?"

Now Maro was the one uncomfortable with the topic, "Yeah," he replied, in a tone that should have closed the line of discussion.

But Chiyo pressed on, "As in an actual place, or a ditch by the road?"

"I'm fine, alright? What do you care, anyway?" Maro snapped, loud enough for guests at nearby tables to glance over.

Chiyo realized too late she'd hit a sensitive topic, "W-well, I'd thought I could offer you a place..."

"I'm not a stray pet to be taken in. I don't need help from anyone!" Maro growled, and abruptly got up from the table and walked out.

Chiyo was confused as to why he was angry, but she was also more than a little angry herself. She buys him an expensive meal and what does he do? She huffed to herself and finished her meal in silence.