Kole clambered up the side of the second mountain. He had been admiring the shape of the surface of the mountain - with less than a thousand years exposed to the elements, the sharp edges of the lava forms had no chance to round yet. Moisture from a rainfall the day before sat in little cups of the stone. A song of thousands of little clicks and snaps followed his ascent. The minerals in the rock smelled like clean polished steel, and it reminded him of the smell of blood.

...The blood of his clan spilled on the floor of the caverns ricocheted behind his eyes. The tiny cups of water in the rock became the dead eyes of his friends, clicking as the blood curled out of their wounds.

Kole stopped and distracted his thinking by watching the clouds disappear behind the mountain top. "Why is it that vengeance has to be contrary to true balance?" Kole asked the bonesword.

"Kole, I believe this is a core teaching of the Shinn."

"Yes, it is."

"And what does that teaching say?"

"I... I can't see the patterns anymore."

"Your vengefulness blinds you."

"What I'm saying is that maybe it's supposed to."

"Explain this please?"

"Maybe my motivations to stop Klalech are necessary to do what must be done for balance."

"Are you so sure that it is all for balance? You admit that you cannot sense Balance anymore."

Kole looked ahead up the mountain.

"Yes, I think it is for Balance. The patterns would not have created such a powerful motivation in me if I was to do anything else."

"... and if you fail to stop him? What do you think would happen?"

"Klalech would complete his gateway and most likely gather his armies together again."

"... which would result in another war."

"... which puts no pressure on me, does it?"

"Kole, there is a chance that you will fail. I am sorry to bring that to you, but you have to understand how your actions will affect the Macroverse. At the top of this peak is an old tree. Rest there for a while and search the patterns."

Kole climbed, and considered what the Bonesword said. At the top was a tree, gnarled and tenaciously rooted to the ground. This ancient wood had been tortured by the elements into a beautifully grotesque form. Kole approached reverently, understanding that the consciousness of the tree must be very old.

He had been taught, among other languages, the elemental language. As he drew closer to the tree, he asked permission to rest against her trunk. There is no gender in the elemental language, as all things in their primal states have equal potential for female creative and male destructive energies, but Kole preferred to think of the tree as more female than male.

The tree welcomed Kole. He set the bonesword aside and leaned back. From this peak, he could see the familiar shape of the slanted mountain ahead. The valley lay just below that peak, which was shaped as though its top had collapsed off to one side, or had been pulled off by some Titan's hand. Damir had sketched this same mountain for him a few months ago.

The tree was soothing in its strength. Almost as solid as the mountains it was rooted on, the tree was more calm. The mountains still felt pain from the reshaping of the Earth, but the tree was content to watch the world crawl by her; it had been a long time since she held bitterness for her circumstance. She had not seen nor felt the presence of a man for longer than she could remember. His back against her trunk and exposed roots warmed her. She began to sing.

Kole felt the tree's song run through him. This gentle music gave him images of slow clean days, and clear starfilled nights. The tree explained to him in song how she watched the stars change in the sky and communicated with them from time to time. She swelled when the moon grew full in the sky, and reached deeper into the rocky soil when the moon grew thin. She described how the snow tasted to her as it fell onto her leaves, and the different flavors when it touched her various roots. She had a name for each root, and she told of the adventures descending into the rock beneath her.

Kole grew to know the tree in the next few hours. He was patient. The tree had a lot to say, just as the mountains had, and he was filling up with her story-song.

The tree finished her story and sent her appreciation to Kole for listening. Then she asked him to share how he came to find her. Kole thought for a moment and realized that this might help understanding his path, if another knew his tale.

He began to tell it...

Kole sat with Kalisse and Berek at a table in the garden market. The scents of ripe fruits, exotic meats, cheeses and spices mixed well with their laughter. Berek spoke with a lot of animated motions. "... but then Daligg saunters over... you know that 'the burden of the macrocosm is on my shoulders, but I can handle it' walk of his. The gaths both stop throwing the inks at each other, look at each other, and just as Daligg raises his hand to speak, they start throwing ink at him." Kole and Kalisse burst out in coughing laughs. Kalisse wiped tears from her face. "No wonder he looked purple this morning," she chortled. "He passed it off as some kind of ritual he took part in," Kole said, trying to catch his breath. "Sure, the initiation ritual into the guild of fabric dyers!" Berek burst out. More laughter from Kole and Kalisse. Berek continued just as they began to slow their laughter, "You should have seen his face when they started pelting him with sponges and blotters!" Berek made a caricaturish face of surprise, using his hands to simulate ink-laden projectiles. Kalisse gasped, "The infamous fabric house riot!" The three of them continued to trade laughs for another few moments as they tried to steady their breathing. All three took simultaneous sips from their juice glasses. There was a reflective moment that passed between them, and then Kalisse offered, "You know, he hasn't been humiliated quite enough. We should send him a bolt of cloth with a spattered pattern on it."

Kole responded, "Or a black cloak to protect him from future attacks." And Berek continued his thought, "Maybe a flag of the fabric guild?" Kalisse put her glass down dramatically and held up a hand. "How about," she began, "a big bar of soap... but we carve out the inside, and fill it with some purple ink?"

Kole and Berek look at each other, then Kole says, "too perfect. He'll think it's a regular bar of soap which he will think is the joke itself. Knowing his way of working through discomfort, he'll use the soap as a form of some cathartic process... until a week or so later..." "Depending on how often he bathes," Berek inserted. "he'll notice that the water has become disturbingly purple!" "Make sure you wrap it in a bow with the logo of the fabric dyers guild on it. That will punctuate the joke for him, and disarm him for the surprise.

"We are the cruel ones," Kalisse said. Kole smiled and looked up at the tall building at the center of the market. Horizontal poles, set close to the top on each side perpendicular to the building cast shadows onto marks painted down the face of each side. Shadowclocks. Kole grumbled about the time and told his companions that he was scheduled to clean out the caverns below the gateway, and he had to leave. Kalisse was also scheduled to do the same, and they said their goodbyes to Berek, who ran off to buy some soap.

The market district has the most concentrated potential for arguments. Merchants haggle with patrons, and fights do occur. The guardians of the City-In-The-Sea concentrate their focus on this area when not assigned elsewhere. Kalisse and Kole passed another guardian who was sitting with a male human and a female Croatis demon. Both looked embarassed for whatever they had done, and it looked like the situation was on its way to being sorted out. Kole guessed that the Croatis became irate over an issue of food preparation. It was their season of Immel, and only certain spices could be used. It was a stressful season for the Croatis who observed Immel, they had to obstain from sex for several months.

Kole noticed, however, that this Croatis did not have her ears stained yellow, as is the tradition among their orthodoxy. That meant that she was not observing Immel. As they drew closer to the conversation, Kole realized that the argument was not between merchant and patron, but between lovers. They had had a dispute when the man was caught supposedly looking lustfully at a human female. The guardian was airing their argument in public to show the Croatis female that her human lover was not embarrassed to be with her. He wasn't. He was more hurt that she could consider his potential infidelity an issue. It was obvious to anyone passing by, but not to her insecure eyes, that he was only for her. The guardian was doing well, apologies were starting to float in her eyes.

Cross-world romance discriminations are not as prevalent anymore as they used to be. Each species, of course, has a predisposition to be with its own kind, and prejudices do arise. This particular relationship situation seemed to be some kind of fallout from those old fears of discrimination and abuse.

There used to be real violence against those who crossed the "species barrier" when choosing mates. Grie's beliefs have often come to the defense, as "We are all one consciousness working toward a universal goal." It doesn't matter what color or texture of your skin anymore. At least, in an ideal world, it doesn't matter.

End Part 11