Chapter 27
Saer spent the next year scouring coastlines of the continents, staying long enough to determine whether the Twins had been through nearby human settlements before moving on. He traveled by boat, sometimes by mount.
On sailing ships, Saer learned the very basics of operating rigs.
He pulled and tied ropes, adjusted lines, heaved anchors, set rudders, all while falling into a companionable alliance with the crew mates and captains of each.
It was just as the fallen angel told Its First the last time It spoke to him—Saer could be very good at following orders.
He marveled when his human hands grew the toughest calluses he’d ever experienced, his already-chiseled forearms toned further, and his body learned to move fluidly with the rise and fall of a boat.
Losing himself in the work rather than dwelling on his maker’s words, or the instant It gleaned him through the doomed human’s eyes in Runeak’s tent.
Tall and craggy shorelines swelled from water deep and dark, broken up so often by rough, white-capped waves.
He toured lengthy stretches of warm, pearlescent coasts with sand so fine, the silk-like texture implored him to dig his toes deeper.
In these hotter climates, Saer soaked in the hue of the ocean, often a teal to sapphire ombre shift.
Neyu’s eyes existed in their cerulean depths.
Saer had yet to meet a human or other creature with the shade’s equal, but in the sea’s simmering abyss, shadows of his beloved lived.
Beaches of every color found themselves under Saer’s feet: bleached white, tan, muddy brown, maroon, desolate gray, even crystal ebony.
He interrogated the locals wherever their ships happened to dock, inquiring about the Twins, but also Errshek.
Arek and Alus tended to draw more attention, memorable to those who met them.
In a few instances, he noted a spark of recognition in his description of the Third and Fourth Daemoenica, though always, they’d moved on.
Never did he witness this reaction when it came to the very forgettable Envy.
The crew spotted land after a month of sailing west from Saer’s prior port.
A beautiful stretch of peninsula with a grand, pale rock arch served as a landmark to the crew who had been to this part of the world before.
In a smaller ship, they could have sailed under and through the structure.
Lazy sea lions perched on rocky structures off the coastline, basking in the heat of midday and barking at one another.
Smaller fishing boats zigged and zagged around their vessel.
Once as close to the dock as they could manage, the captain shouted orders to drop anchor and ready the skiffs.
From afar, the shoreline reflected a pristine ivory with humble adobes dotting the land further up from the sea.
Palm trees swung as cool, salty wind flowed up and off the ocean.
Saer leaned forward off the bow of the ship and extended his heat sense into the village. The task humored his routine, though he didn’t expect fruit to be borne through the effort.
The sea lions nearest the boat flared under his scrutiny.
Further on, he disregarded the blips of sea birds, large and small, as they circled fishing boats for an easy meal.
Human heat signatures glowed with the most familiarity, and as Saer scanned every skiff, beach gathering, and adobe, he prepared himself for the usual disappointment.
Nothing.
Of course there wasn’t—
Wait.
His hands tightened on the ship railing, and he frowned, brow lowered.
There.
Not one, but two unmistakable, brilliant signals gleaned. They radiated further back from the shore in some structure Saer couldn’t see.
Adrenaline spiked. His heart jumped from steady to racing.
Saer hurried to find a rowboat.
Saer’s arms and chest flexed under his threadbare cotton shirt as he bore responsibility for the bulk of the power behind his rowboat’s journey. One of his five crew mates noticed the fervor of his movements and laughingly put his oars up for an instant. “Saer has it lads, take a breather!”
Their companion, usually ready to acknowledge his superiority at a moment’s notice, snarled at the joke. After that, the sailors took up their implements in a hurry and didn’t say anything further until they’d reached the beach.
They pulled ashore and Saer shoved the oars into the small vessel, then took his leave. He ignored the muttered jibes aimed at his back, implications as to what could possibly have their associate in such a rotten mood and sprinting to civilization.
Saer weaved his way through the bustling village streets, fixated on the burning heat signatures of what could only be the Twins.
Urchins huddled in the shade but rushed out at any sign of passersby, peddling wares for coin, either minuscule tidbits or trinkets.
Older humans, either the parents or guardians of the youthful runners, called out names of wares and their prices.
Twice, Saer bared his teeth at aggressive sellers who dared to get in his way. They scurried off.
At the end of his ten-minute walk, Saer faced another unassuming home just on the outskirts of the bazaar. Merchants’ cries echoed behind him.
The door stood thick, wooden, and not the finest craftsmanship. A few windows spotted the structure—open, small, and above average human height. Saer confirmed once more the two distinct signals within, then dropped his heat sense and hurried to the entrance.
Pride would have lit the door on fire, shoved it open, or any combination thereof rather than knocking. Instead, as he strode to the portal with one hand outstretched, the wooden slab swung inward. An exiting body ran into him—and Saer reflexively punched the unsuspecting man in his jaw.
A voice further within the structure bit out a sharp, wry curse to the sudden violence.
His victim slammed on his tailbone and…roared with laughter.
It took Saer a breath to see—through the hysterics—his brother trying to address him. “Mercy, Viscount of Vanity! Mercy!” The words rose as a plea, but his tone sounded nothing short of jovial.
To Alus, Gluttony himself, everything was always a grand joke.
From within the home, Arek—Greed—stood with his arms crossed, head tilted and unamused to the side, as though he couldn’t be bothered to hold it up straight. “Thank you. That punch is going to have him in fits for the next several minutes.”
Saer shook out his fist and ground his teeth, extending and flexing the fingers.
He parted his lips—then Alus grabbed Saer’s punching hand, and pulled himself off the ground while simultaneously initiating a back-slapping embrace.
“The untouchable graces us with his presence. It’s good to see you, you old brute. ”
Saer froze before offering a half-hearted pat to Alus’s back, then leaned away. The rose-colored shirt Gluttony wore did, indeed, reflect in his otherwise steel-gray irises—a continued quirk unique to Alus.
The more genial of the Twins had a smile to thaw the deadliest frost, and Pride couldn’t help but feel a little more at ease, even with Arek’s perpetual glare. “Alustar, you...” Saer trailed off, at a loss for words.
“You always say the nicest things.” Clapping Saer on the arm, Gluttony drew back and motioned inside.
“Come in, Chief. What’s ours is yours.” He stepped past Arek and slapped him good-humoredly on his side while heading straight for a series of shelves lined with food.
Alus picked through the selection at the same time he retrieved trays and bowls from a nearby cupboard.
He gave his head a shake to move wavy, sun-bleached strands out of his face.
“I was headed to the market, but we still have plenty here to satisfy a traveler’s stomach. Have a seat.”
While Alus fussed, Arek remained unmoving, his face stony. Saer didn’t budge from the front stoop.
If he didn’t know any better, he’d have guessed the mistrustful Arek was guarding Alus—from him. If Errshek got here first, he’d already had the chance to turn the Twins against him, just like Runeak.
“I’ve got oranges or mangos for something quick and easy. If you give me a minute, I could whip up a salsa. Even longer and we could fry up beans and smash them. They have this scrumptious flatbread we can use to dip—”
“Why’re you here?” Arek’s biting tone cut through Alus’s easygoing drawl. They had the same voice, yet each twin wielded the feature in their own, unique way.
The flurry of activity in the kitchen stopped as Alus glanced over his shoulder. “Hey. You’re being a wet blanket right now.”
“I’m looking for Errsheken,” Saer said.
“Why?” Arek’s caustic tone cut through the room.
“Children. Food!”
Saer lifted his hands. “I don’t have any problems with either of you.” He hadn’t come to the village to toil with the Twins, but he had no qualms with barreling through an obstacle, rather than talking past it.
Sighing, Alus left the kitchen and took Arek’s head in his hands. “Can you be better? When was the last time we were all together?”
Maybe Errshek hadn’t found them. Alus acted as though all was right with the world…
Arek stared. Alus’s smile lessened from his lips, but not from his eyes, and his tone softened. “Asshole or not, he’s still our brother. We can hear him out.”
…or perhaps not.
“I’m standing right here.”
Saer’s bitter comment brought a grin to Alus’s face, though he kept his gaze locked with his double.
The curl in Arek’s lip lessened. “Hellsfire.” He craned his head to wrench it from Alus’s grip, then made a weak, sweeping gesture. “Fine. Come in.”
Alus tossed a dark, pebble-skinned fruit in one hand while plucking up a knife in the other. “This definitely calls for guacamole.”
Arek motioned to some simple chairs around a wooden table with a heavy exhale. “Make yourself comfortable. You can count on at least three other dishes we’ll have to work through.”
Saer eyed Arek before shooting one more glance towards Alus who hummed to himself as he removed a giant seed from the fruit he dissected.
With no other excuses, Saer stepped inside and shut the door behind him.