Soon after, we arrived at our destination, which was very nearly at the end of the hall, and entered to find that we were expected and a space open for my fitting, which was soon accomplished, and my suit promised to be at my quarters the next morning. That would be just in time for the departure of the raiding party, which was set to cut out and embark for Nunami a little after that, in order to be in place in the hidden treetop posts surrounding the city before nighttime, as the operation was to begin at midnight. At first I thought that the attack was pushed forward in haste, but as I came to realize that my coming had been prophesied and a great amount of time had been spent preparing for this day, it seemed only natural that they should want to bring the hostilities to a close after such a long time. There were other considerations as well. The weather, for one, had to be dry and not at all windy for the fire to be safely attempted, and also the possibility of the Zards making the first offensive could not be ignored, for they had knowledge of my arrival and may have felt forced to act to prevent the very type of thing that we were about to attempt.
Chapter 7: Down to Nunami
When I awoke the next morning I found Bernibus and Wagner conversing quietly in the corner of my bed chambers, and as I first opened my eyes I saw Wagner looking at me with a blank, glazed expression, while Bernibus’ was one of apprehension, apparently on my behalf. It seemed odd to me, but as Wagner became livid again quickly after his split-second lapse and gave me a hearty “Good morning”, I thought nothing more of it. After his greeting, he continued:
“The day is ripe for victory, my friend, and the time is come for battle. We both have some preparations to complete, and so must separate, but we will meet again at noon in the entrance hall. Farewell until then,” and with that he quit the room.
I looked at Bernibus, yet before either of us could speak, we heard a low, hollow grumbling, like the shaking of some building or foundation. He looked in my direction for a moment with an alarmed countenance, before I said defensively, “Tis but my stomach.”
“Then we must get you some victuals,” he laughed, “And I have just the thing to satisfy you and keep you so for a day or more: some mirus. It is our traditional energy food, for though its taste is bitter, its after-life is pleasant.”
“And what is food except a servant to the body?” I said, “Let us eat.”
“Very well,” he replied.
And eat we did, for it was brought by a food service Canitaur on a tray, and I was surprised to see that it was a mixture of broccoli, spinach, and mushrooms, with a flavorless, glowing sauce. He was right, incidentally, for it was both bitter before and pleasant after its consumption.