Spike followed Del as she wound her way through a labyrinth of hallways and stairwells. After nearly ten minutes, his head was spinning. How did anyone get anywhere around here? He hoped there were more direct routes, because otherwise he’d surely get lost and starve to death.

“Del?”

“Hmm?” Del hummed as she made yet another turn.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

Del stopped, looking back at Spike. “Yeah, why?”

“Because I don’t, and we’ve been walking forever! How do you get anywhere in this bloody maze?” Spike waved his arms around for effect. “This place is a deathtrap!”

Del looked confused for a moment. Then her face cleared. “Oh. I was just taking the scenic route. I thought you’d like to look around a bit.” She reached out a hand, pointing to a small square of fabric and wood affixed to the wall. “You can find out where you are on these signs.”

Spike peered at the sign. In all likelihood, the sign *did* tell where they were, and Spike would have remembered it for future reference—if he could read it. “Del, I hate to say this, but I can’t read that.”

Del snorted. “It’s in dalhari. We’ll deal with that later.” She tugged on his shoulder, pulling him back from the sign. “Since you’re not interested in looking around, we’ll just get going.”

Before Spike could protest, they were off again. There was a marked increase in their pace, and less than two minutes later, Del stopped in front of an unremarkable set of doors. Digging for a moment in a concealed pocket in her cloak, she extracted a key.

“Be welcomed, Spike,” Del said as she pushed the doors open. Spike preceded her into the room, peering around tentatively. It was pitch-dark inside, and smelled like it hadn’t been aired in some time.

“Wait here. I’ll get a light.” Spike stopped in the doorway, venturing no further than the pool of light caused by the hallway’s flickering torches.

Del procured a candle and holder from the side table. Striking a fire starter, she lit the candle and carried it over to a waiting Spike. “Hold this.”

Spike took the candle, raising it to see further into the room. Del walked over to one wall and unlatched a set of shutters. Bright sunlight poured into the room, making Spike blink rapidly. After his eyes adjusted, he joined her at the window. Del jumped up onto the sill and walked up to the window itself, working to unlatch the glass. Spike studied the window in surprise.

The window itself was less than a meter wide, but more than two meters tall. It was set at least a meter into the wall—a wall of solid stone. The sill on which Del was standing was large and deep—like an alcove. Spike could well imagine someone filling it with pillows and using it as a resting place.

The thickness of the walls reminded Spike distinctly of medieval cathedrals in his own dimension. Those thick stone walls served as climate control—neither the heat of summer nor the chill of winter would penetrate them. The glass used in the windows looked extremely thick—and colored, if Spike wasn’t mistaken. The particular window he was looking at seemed to be made of a mosaic of various light shades of blue.

Del finished securing the now open window and moved on. Spike followed her as she opened several more of the windows, letting a fresh breeze air out the room. Leaving Del’s side, Spike took in the room itself.

The look of the place bore some resemblance to the house he and Del had shared over the winter, namely the presence of soft pillows and cushions instead of more formal furniture. Beyond that, however, the two residences were very much different.

The stone that made up the floor, ceiling and walls was unplastered but obviously finished. In the brighter sunlight Spike could see that the abstract, knotted designs that seemed to be a hallmark of dalhari craftsmanship were carved in low relief on the walls and ceiling. Along the walls were several shelves, tables and chests. Their contents intrigued Spike, but he decided to investigate later. There was still more to look at. Wandering over to the wall opposite the windows, Spike stepped through an open doorway. It led down a short hallway, with several more doors branching off it. The room to his left was concealed by a folding screen, which he carefully opened. There were obviously no windows in this interior room, for it was pitch black.

Raising his candle again, Spike looked around. Much like the main room, a couple of chests, tables and shelves adorned the perimeter. One corner was filled with what was probably a bed. Unlike what he was familiar with, this bed was composed of a base of stone, perhaps a meter in height. It appeared to be an integral part of the room, or at least permanently installed in that corner. On top of that was a tall stack of pillow-type mattresses, blankets and other bedclothes. The room itself was rather plain, as the shelves were bare. Curiosity sated, Spike left, pulling the screen closed behind him.

The room across from him was similarly closed off. This room, however, did have a window, which Spike immediately unshuttered. Its window glass was the same pale blue of the main room. That was where the similarity ended. This room was comparatively tiny. Spike surmised rather quickly that it was the dalhari equivalent of a bathroom. Upon investigation, he was pleased to see find indoor plumbing, of a sort. At least he wouldn’t have to bathe outside.

Deciding that perhaps he wouldn’t linger in the facilities, he decided to check out the last doorway. It faced the entranceway to the main room, at the end of the hallway. Sliding the doors back, he found himself in yet another pitch black room. Using his candle, he found a series of windows along the right hand wall. Stumbling over several pillows and a low table, he reached one and opened the shutters. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the pale blue light, he resumed his investigations.

Apparently he had just found the master bedroom. In the far corner was a larger version of the sleeping platform in the first bedroom. All along the walls and at the foot of the bed were chests, shelves and low tables. The pillows he’d tripped over were repeated in random piles here and there, particularly around the fireplace. There had been one of those in the main room as well, but not in the smaller bedroom.

Unlike the other room, this one was filled with things. Several tapestries adorned the walls, and books filled the shelves. Knives, swords, daggers and other forged items lay cluttered over the tables, and more than one trunk stood open, clothes and other items visible.

“Find what you’re looking for?” Spike turned quickly at Del’s voice. She was leaning against the doorway, a wide grin on her face. Spike grinned weakly, caught in the act of snooping. Del just waved him on and moved to open the glass windows.

Spike checked out the various weaponry lying about, as well as the books. Most of them were written in dalhari, although he found several in other languages. Not one of them was written in something he could read. Either she didn’t have any human-authored books or, more likely, the human tongue was written in something he couldn’t read.

Del joined him at the bookshelf. “What are all these?” Spike asked, pointing at the shelves.

“Books,” Del said, smirking.

Spike rolled his eyes. “What kind?”

“History, chronicles, lamentations, celebrations, meditations, journals, compendiums…”

“Novels?” Spike asked. It sounded like Del had nothing the least bit…entertaining in her library.

“Novels?” Del asked, frowning.

Spike sighed. “Fiction? Stories you read for fun?”

“Ah.” Del reached for a large text. “Parables, folk tales, and metaphorical works.”

“I take it the great art of creative writing hasn’t reached this place. No poetry either.” Spike put the book down. Del smirked, and then pushed him over to another set of shelves.

“You should have said crafted writing. That’s over here.” These books looked no different. Spike raised an eyebrow.

“Crafted writing?”

“Writing as art, for the beauty of the written word.”

“Why couldn’t you just say fiction?” Spike asked, slightly frustrated.

“Because it’s not all fiction.” Del shook her head.

Spike supposed that he should just consider this separation another difference in culture and world. At least they had books. That was something. And poetry, apparently.

“So…lots of religious books?” He pointed back at the other shelf. “Lamentations, celebrations?”

Del just nodded, not saying anything. Spike was curious. Del had mentioned religion all of once, when they’d first met, and that was only to say that dalhari didn’t sacrifice humans. From the way Del had responded, it wasn’t a conversation they’d be having any time soon, either.

Dropping the subject, Spike stepped back, turning around to look at the room as a whole. “So, where do I stay?”

“Wherever you want. These are my rooms. When we go see the elders, they’ll probably know where some empty quarters are, if you want to stay in the House,” Del responded. “Of course, I’m sure there are places in the Agraka.”

“Agraka?” Spike repeated.

“It’s a part of the city on the opposite part of the green we passed where a lot of nondalhari live. It’s mostly humans, orth and pakra. There aren’t very many of the other species in La’iv, unless someone new has moved in.”

“Ah.” So, there was a ghetto in La’iv for all the earthbound misfits.

“Why don’t you rest in the spare room for a while? I want to unpack before we go find the elders.” Spike nodded, and then left for the other room. Del had opened the door again, letting the air freshen. Spike set the candle on a nearby table and sat on the bed to take off his boots. The room, and the flat as a whole, was eerily silent. Massive stone buildings were very effective at blocking out the sounds of wind and the creaking of a living home, even with windows open.

Spike lay down on the bed, staring up at the carved ceiling. Shadows danced along the incised lines, illuminating and hiding the sculpture. Although he was tired, he found himself unable to actually sleep.

La’iv was probably the most beautiful city he’d ever seen, and he’d seen quite few places in his life. It was as though someone had taken the most fanciful, beautiful and majestic architecture of Europe and created a city out of it. It was very clean, too, which came as a surprise to Spike, since pack animals were in use, instead of cars or trains. The people seemed nice—pleasant and friendly, and he hadn’t seen the obvious signs of poverty he was used to seeing in his world. Come to think of it, he hadn’t really seen that in any of the cities he’d been in. Then again, he also hadn’t seen many signs of individual wealth, either.

But several things about La’iv bothered him, for lack of a better word. Del had expressed that dalhari pretty much got along well with others—particularly those species that didn’t prey on humans. But it sounded like the nondalhari in La’iv were isolated.

At his request, Del had explained at one point early on their trip from Aver what La’iv was like. That discussion had necessitated an extensive education in the structure of dalhari culture. Spike had thought that he knew quite a bit about the dalhari. He’d been wrong, though. And even after their discussion, he still felt like he was in the dark about many things. This sense of ignorance made Spike nervous.

Del had started out by describing house structure—the foundation of dalhari culture. He’d dimly recalled hearing Del’s house’s name, but she had never before talked about it. Dalhari houses were huge, complicated networks of individual clans, which were in turn composed of several families. Houses tended to dominate a particular geographic region, so that in any place the majority of dalhari belonged to a single house. In addition, within each house’s area, the various clans divided up the land. La’iv, for example, was situated at the border of the Disiaron—Del’s house, and Aiskian—Gaihi’s house. The freehold itself was dominated by Gaihi’s house. Del had tried to explain bonding traditions, but all Spike could figure out was that it was by far most common for dalhari to marry inside their house, somewhat common to marry inside their clan, and very uncommon—perhaps even taboo, to marry within their families, even though families were in fact composed of many people who might or might not be closely related. Spike had eventually made Del stop because it just confused him. There was something about age differences in there as well, but Spike couldn’t remember anything about it.

The part that Spike had found most difficult to really grasp was that gender didn’t matter one whit to dalhari. In fact, from what Spike could figure out, the only thing that each gender held on to exclusively was their own particular role in reproduction—females bore the children. Other than that, males and females held positions inside and outside the home and workplace evenly. According to Del, the main way dalhari were differentiated was house designation. Although Spike had initially doubted her statements, his subsequent encounters with other dalhari only reinforced what she said.

Spike was having considerable difficulty telling male and female dalhari apart. He had to listen closely to their voices, or compare bone structure—females seemed to be more delicate and have slightly higher voices. Where he saw major differences was that house thing.

One of the dalhari they’d met on the road had belonged to a different house—Del had said he was from the Narmunan house. Spike had thought that house designations were social or cultural—but apparently they went deeper than that. To Spike, the difference was more racial or ethnic. The Narmunan traveler was a head taller than Spike, making him almost half a meter taller than Del. At first, Spike hadn’t thought much about it. Then he noticed that the dalhari of the Disiaron house were all around Del’s height. Very few of them were as tall as he himself was. Spike had asked Del about it.

She had replied that yes, the dalhari of different houses looked different, not so much in coloration, which was pretty much universally random, but in terms of bone structure, height and musculature. That was, she said, in addition to significant differences in belief and tradition.

Spike quickly came to the conclusion that houses were more like different countries, even when more than one house existed within a political region. But as soon as he tried to mold dalhari culture into his world’s frameworks, something else cropped up.

The leadership of dalhari houses worked on a combination of appointment and rotation. The first level of organization occurred at the family level. Each family formed a council of elders, who were basically any dalhari that had reached adulthood. Family elder-councils sent two members to the clan council. Which two members went rotated between all the members. The clan council was usually dominated by a single family, or more rarely, two families. No one stayed on any council permanently, although some stayed longer than others. Del had tried to explain the particular system by which council members were chosen, but Spike stopped her. If he didn’t understand the simpler stuff, he certainly wasn’t going to get this.

After many hours of discussion, Spike had decided that dalhari culture was both structured and rigid. Del couldn’t think of more than one or two dalhari in her memory that had rebelled significantly against it. Maybe that was why there hadn’t been as much technological advancement here as there had been in his world. As he’d noted before, people here were complacent—they liked their world. It was as if they were unconsciously making sure it didn’t change. It went against everything Spike had ever learned about civilization and the advancement of cultures. That was it—they advanced. When he’d asked Del about it, she replied that their culture did advance—in thought and philosophy. Spike hadn’t pursued the topic, although he found that logic flawed. He simply didn’t want to get into an argument over it.

•••

Del interrupted his ruminations by knocking on the door screen. “We need to go see the elders. They’re expecting us, I’m sure.” She waited as he put his boots back on and retrieved his cloak. It was warm enough for him, but she was wearing hers.

Del didn’t say much as they wound their way though the hallways. In just a few short minutes, he found himself standing in a spacious room, lined with pillars. The ceiling had to have been at least ten meters above his head, maybe more. The bright day sun had faded to dusk, so the room was cast into shadow. Dalhari had much better night vision than humans, so they preferred their homes less brightly lit.

Del stopped next to a casually seated group of dalhari. At her motion, they both sank down on cushions next to the group. One of the dalhari, a dark brown skinned, green haired man, immediately began speaking to Del. She answered him in dalhari. Soon the others had joined in.

Spike studied the others instead of listening, since he only picked up every third or fourth word. Del had taught him some, but they were speaking so fast he couldn’t follow. Even though he knew that dalhari didn’t age like humans, he had somehow expected elders to look, well, older. Adult dalhari all looked about 25 or 30 to Spike. It frustrated him. Del had said once that it was easy for dalhari to tell how old each other were, but that didn’t help Spike. He was human.

“Spike.” Spike’s attention returned to the group when his name was spoken. One of the elders had said his name, and was waiting for a reply.

Spike hadn’t asked Del what proper protocol was, but it seemed that dalhari were fairly casual in these situations. “Yeah?”

“Your journey was safe?” Spike nodded. The orange dalhari returned the nod. “Del said that you fought well. It isn’t often that humans can wield dalhari swords with any proficiency.”

Spike nodded at that as well. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say, so he stayed silent.

“Why are you here?” That question came from the brown dalhari.

Spike blinked. Hadn’t Del told them that? “Originally I wanted to go home, and Del offered to help.”

“Now?” The brown dalhari pressed.

Spike fidgeted. “Bloody hell, I don’t know. I don’t speak any language but this one, and I can’t read a damned thing here. I don’t have a trade, I can’t do anything and half the population of this planet wants me for dinner!” The elder dalhari just chuckled.

“There are human-populated regions,” A purple dalhari began, “but they are very far away, and difficult to reach.”

“There are not that many humans in La’iv, or any other region nearby.” This statement came from a light tan dalhari sitting next to the purple one.

“There many trades that will take you as an apprentice,” The brown dalhari said.

“And a university,” the orange dalhari added.

“And there are the fields, of course,” said the purple one.

“In many holds, not just La’iv,” stated the orange dalhari.

Spike nodded at each statement, unsure of where this was going. After a few more such comments, the brown dalhari stopped them.

“We have called for a witch. Del was correct; it is highly unlikely that you will be able to return.” Spike nodded his understanding. “You should consider what you would like to do. You do not have to stay here.”

“What about Del?” Spike asked. She had remained silent for several minutes.

The elders shifted uncomfortably. “Del brought you here safely under her protection. However, you are not indebted to her in any way. She took no promise from you. You are free to seek your own path here.”

Spike didn’t like the sound of that. He looked over at Del, who was staring down a pillar just beyond their spot on the floor. “Del?”

Del looked over and cocked an eyebrow.

“What do you think?” Spike asked, worried.

Del remained silent for a long time. “I don’t,” she said, rising from the floor. Before Spike could move to join her, she exited the room, practically running. He moved to follow her, but was held back by the brown dalhari.

“Remain here, Spike,” he said.

“Why? Where’s she going?” Spike spat, trying to get away. If only dalhari weren’t so blasted strong…

“Spike,” the purple dalhari said, waiting until she had Spike’s attention. “You have much to consider, and you must consider it alone.”

Spike stopped struggling. He wanted to get to the bottom of whatever was happening here. “Fine.” Nothing was fine, damn it. “I’m tired. Can someone take me back to wherever my stuff is? I need to sleep.”

The elders talked for a moment in dalhari, and then signaled to a waiting guard. The young dalhari wordlessly led Spike back to Del’s quarters. As he’d hoped, she was there, curled up on some cushions in front of the unlit fireplace.

“What the hell was that all about, Del?” Spike asked, frustrated with both the elders and with Del.

“They’re trying to help you, Spike,” Del said, sounding tired.

“Right. Why do I get the feeling that it’s not going to help any?” Spike retorted.

Del sighed. “Because you aren’t thinking.” She got up and took his hand. He reluctantly followed her as she pulled him toward the room he’d rested in earlier. “You need to sleep, Spike. It’s been a long day, and you didn’t rest well earlier.”

Spike stopped at the doorway. “I’m not tired.”

“You told the elders you were.” Del replied, looking worn out herself.

“How did you know that?”

Del didn’t answer him as she moved toward her own room. Spike reached out, grabbing her arm before she got out of reach.

“Stay?” Spike asked, sure she wouldn’t. After a long moment, and to his great surprise, she moved back to him.