Monday, 26 February 2024

Kurush: The First City - Chapter 10

Tiuk marched through the Rush’s gateway, and nodded at the two soldiers on guard. Night had fallen and Kurush was alive with the sounds of merriment. Almost as soon as she walked into the grove of palm trees on the side of the square, a young hurum woman stumbled into her.

“Arm so… soo soo sorry,” she said as she swayed back and forth, “I cuff sorn you er a tree!”

Tiuk looked around, but there was no-one else in sight, “Don’t you have any friends? Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be alone at night?”

“Friends? Fuck ‘em! I don need no friends. You’ll be my friend, yeah?”

As warm a night as it was, Tiuk was still surprised at how little she was wearing. Her shirt, if it could even be called that, was so short it barely covered her chest, leaving her soft-looking belly completely naked. Tiuk’s stomach suddenly felt very empty, and her breaths became deeper. She could feel her body urging her to find out if she was as scrumptious as she looked.

“Sure, I’ll be your friend,” said Tiuk as she picked her up and rested her on her shoulder, “let me take you somewhere nice”

The woman sang a song to herself as Tiuk carried her through the grove. She stopped in the dark and secluded centre. The smell of beer from the woman was filling her nostrils, but underneath that was the uniquely sweet and salty aroma of a hurum. She didn’t seem to notice when Tiuk’s stomach grumbled loudly. Tiuk swallowed her saliva, held her breath and strode through to the other side of the grove and the glittering façade of the Sapphire Temple.

“Askura,” she said as the priestess greeted them at the doorway, “could you look after this one? If I hadn’t found her, she’d probably have disappeared off the face of the earth. Also, could you tell your mother I’m here?”

“No problem”, said Askura with her sparkly smile

Tiuk sat at a booth in a quiet corner of the hall and huffed. Some of the patrons ogled her as though she was some exotic creature, but most were more interested in drinking and flirting with their chosen prey. She tried to look as composed as she could, but she already felt a terrible itch to leave the Temple. It wasn’t just the salaciousness of the place that made her uncomfortable, it was the potential damage to her reputation if she was seen here too often. But the fact remained that without this safe space where hungry lishas could consort with willing hurums under the watchful eyes of the priestesses, Kurush would be a much more dangerous place.   

A priestess sprinkled herbs into the hearth in the centre of the hall, adding to the waves of sweet smoke wafting around the air. Ostensibly this was to help their patrons relax, not that it was having that effect on Tiuk. She assumed its main purpose was to mask the noxious smell of orokosa.

Her eyes met with a hurum girl with untamed hair across the hall, slouching against the wall chewing on some dried meat, her eyes wide yet blank. She held up two fingers. Tiuk didn’t know what that meant. Two leaves? Two copper ingots? She shook her head curtly and looked away.

“Here to gawk at our hurums, are you Tiuk?”

Peshura, the Sopri of Sapesh and Galka, the high priestess of the Sapphire Temple, sat opposite her. She had crow’s feet and faint streaks of grey in her black hair, but her age was disguised well by her round, sunny face. It seems Tiuk hadn’t interrupted any ceremonies, since she only wore a simple white tunic.

“I wanted to discuss the midsummer festival,” said Tiuk, “how are your preparations going?”

“We’re ready. Are you?”

“I don’t have as many soldiers as last year, thanks to the Ikark’s stinginess. Frankly, as long as the Rush is defended, I’m not sure they care about the safety of lishas and hurums. I’m getting more and more reports of hurums disappearing, and I expect I’ll get a big pile of them the day after the festival”

“We can’t cancel it,” said Peshura, “we need it now more than ever. It will remind Kurush of the need to treat each other with respect, the need to come together as one”

“I was afraid you’d say that”

“It will be fine. Remember, you, me and Lurush are the pillars holding Kurush together”

“I wouldn’t rely on Lurush, if I were you”, said Tiuk

“She paid for the renovation of the façade, and the grove, and she still gives us a hefty sum each month for upkeep”

“Do you still buy orokosa in bulk from her? Has she raised the price?”

Peshura looked down and shifted awkwardly in her seat.

“Are you running out of orokosa?” pressed Tiuk

Peshura hesitated, “We have enough”

“Orokosa is more important than bronze or gold. If it becomes unaffordable, there will be chaos. Some lishas won’t restrain themselves”

“Do you think the Ikark would agree to a price cap?”

“No,” said Tiuk, “but I’ll see what I can do”

“I hope you know how grateful I am, how we all are. It must be exhausting doing everything you do to keep us all safe”

“I’m just doing my duty”

A playful smirk spread across Peshura’s face, “How about we go downstairs, so I can show you how grateful I am? After a long, hard day, you must be famished”

Tiuk’s entire body tensed, “No, thank you”

“Don’t be like that, it’s important to relax and have fun once in a while. And I know how much you lishas enjoy a good meal”

Her alluring scent was tantalising Tiuk’s nostrils – had she rubbed spices into her skin? The mischievous look in her eyes was fighting hard to disarm Tiuk’s defences. Even in that simple tunic, her shapely figure was quite obvious. Swallowing someone as plump as her would be a challenge, one her body was raring to attempt. Her stomach begged to be filled, but Tiuk commanded it to be silent.

“I’m sorry, but I take Shakresh’s vow. I’m afraid I have other duties to attend to. Goodnight”

Tiuk rose and walked away before Peshura had a chance to dissuade her. Once she was outside, she wiped the drool from her chin. She had to wonder, when Lurush gives her monthly donation, does Peshura show her her gratitude that way? She forcibly pushed that image out of her mind, but she knew her stomach was thinking ‘that lucky bitch’.


Next chapter

Constructive criticism welcome

© Paul Bramhall

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