I didn’t have to carry her far. She was, of course, much heavier than my boys had been when they were young, and my back ached as I plodded down the road with her, but the same pride that had kept all of us from admitting that we were hungry kept me from complaining about the pain that began radiating up my spine. Fortunately there was a barn at the edge of the orchard, and there was a donkey grazing beside the barn. Some farm boy’s negligence which we took advantage of immediately. And so we came into Nhadtereyba with Martiveht seated on the donkey, her body slumped forward, her robes dazzling white and shining.

  The town opens up within a cleft between two hills, and is divided by a wandering tributary of the Soemohngea River, a dirty little stream called Idotikahnda Creek. The castle sits to the north of the creek. As the road wound down from the orchards I could see that houses had already been cleared to make space for the tow path. I could see the path itself in the distance, a flat line along the river bank, its embankment built up by carefully positioned boulders and edged by the glowering forest. I had a revelation as I lead the donkey down that hill. The tow path was changing the very fabric of life. It was certainly changing the shape of the river. The engineers hadn’t tried to cut through the hills, but had filled in part of the river, pushing its banks westward, so that the Soemohngea became thinner and its meandering shape was cut into graceful curves and straight paths, at least on the east bank. But it wasn’t the changing aesthetic that people were objecting to. Some of the cleared houses in Nhadtereyba had belonged to the wealthy, the First Families who had built their mansions as close to the castle as they could. To the south and north of the castle, the raw line of demolition ran through old merchant houses and river taverns. The charm of the city had been excised.

  “Where are the Naukuhohna living now?” I asked Malshaki. She was sticking close to me, still believing that I was the one in authority. She was polishing at her armor with a dirty sleeve as she trotted along.

  “Yonder,” she said, pointing with a finger that was still sticky from the peaches. Bits of fluff had adhered to her skin.

  I studied the house she pointed to. It was situated on the lower slope of the opposite hill. “And the other First Families?” I asked. “The Vevigbi and the Jahnadee?”

  “That’s the Jahnadee,” she said, nodding at a house that sat beside the road we were on. “The Vevigbi are up there, north of the castle and such.”

  I looked again at the castle. It controlled the river, an old stronghold of river pirates, finally captured by Ahtraeyed Sarangbau after he had seized Rahasabahst. The pirates had to content themselves with becoming the First Families of Nhadtereyba, and paying homage to the cousin who old Ahtraeyed set up as their duke. Now these ancient pirate families were displaced from the river that had given them their wealth. Never mind that they had become arborists generations before, and their riches were now based on fruit trees rather than plunder. There was graffiti denouncing the river project on the walls of the buildings that we passed. And people in the street walked with sharp steps, their bodies vibrating with contained anger.

  We came even with the Jahnadee’s new house and I glanced into its entrance tunnel, curious about how far they’d fallen. I froze and the donkey almost tore its reins from my hands, plodding away at its even pace. Pertrahn, my rival, my enemy, was standing at the far end of the entrance tunnel, in the light of the house’s courtyard. One glimpse of his small, wiry form, and I was filled with rage. Here was the stabber of elephants. The beater of boys. Here was the man whom Dursehl had chosen over me, the first betrayal of a long two days.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  He didn’t see me. A man approached him and they conversed. Vaenahma stepped to my side, They glanced down the tunnel and said nothing. But they put a hard hand on my shoulder and gave a little push, so that I began walking again. I looked around for Yaendrid, seeking some semblance of the comfort she used to give me, I suppose. She had disappeared.

  Vaenahma saw me looking and said, “About five minutes back. She slid into a side alley.”

  “You didn’t stop her?”

  “Did you want me to?”

  No, I decided. No. I wanted the old Yaendrid, the smiling woman with big features and curly bronze hair, whose thick hand fit so easily into mine. My friend of easy comfort, my ally in the palace, always ready to smile and gossip, always reassuringly efficient, even when she was relaxing at table with my family. That Yaendrid hadn’t entirely disappeared, but she had become besmirched with suspicion, like the fluff on Malshaki’s finger. Better to be without her, for awhile, and not worry that, in bringing her to Nhadtereyba Castle I was, in some way, aiding her spying.

  “You saw Pertrahn?” I asked my lieutenant.

  “I saw him.”

  “In the Jahnadee’s compound.”

  “Yes. We must tell the duke.”

  Martiveht was shaking now, and the Sasturi scream was taut on her face. It was quite horrible to look at. Passerby on the crowded streets were turning away. Some even shielded their eyes. I was afraid that her shaking would unseat her from the donkey. “Where is the Weaver’s Guild?” I asked Malshaki.

  She glanced at Martiveht and understood. “Other side of Idotikahnda Creek,” she said. “We’re almost at the bridge.”

  “No,” Iyedraeka said.

  I turned and stared at her. “No?”

  “Not the Weaver’s Guild. Not here. The shrine.”

  “Wrong kind of weavers?” I asked.

  Misery clouded her pretty face. “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve been to Nhadtereyba before.”

  “Yes. Captain, listen. The Sasturi are divided. You know that. Sometimes a Guild House gets…hostile.”

  “I thought that all Guild Houses belonged to the Loom Sasturi.”

  “They do, but different masters have different sympathies. They’re just like anyone else, Captain. They can be brought to serve the people they live among. I mean that their loyalties can shift. And Yenceyan is very far away. If she were healthy, I wouldn’t worry. But when she’s like this…”

  I nodded, but I didn’t like it. I now knew that there were secret spy networks moving through the kingdom. I hadn’t been curious enough to discover them on my own, despite my years as a guard captain. Had I ignored the signs? Had I looked away from the odd event, the obvious clue? I was beginning to suspect that this was why I had been promoted over better men. I was a useful idiot. My whole life, I had been nothing but a useful idiot, to my superiors, maybe to Yaendrid, to all of the connivers and manipulators who were wise enough not to look like street criminals. I felt crushed by it, and bitter. “The shrine then,” I said to Malshaki. “Where is it?”

  “By the river,” she said. “At the foot of the castle. They keep the dead close in Nhadtereyba.”

  Copyright KPB Stevens, 2025

  The Strange Transformation of the Nhadtereyba Peaches

  From Pursuing the Previous World by Bahnaht Haeber