Chapter Twelve

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From a distance, Balagada had looked crowded. It was even more apparent as Tanden wandered along the narrow streets, Soren trailing behind because they often couldn't comfortably walk side by side.

The paths zig-zagged between the buildings and in some cases over them. Once, Tanden climbed a staircase and noticed that the path was now crossing the roof of the building they had just walked past. And staircases were everywhere. Tanden took them slowly and cautiously, grateful that his foot was feeling better and unwilling to set back his healing.

Tanden tried to soak in any information he could. Bits of conversation gave him a feel for daily life in Balagada. Tiny details in the way houses were built helped him guess at the order they had been built in. He thought the city had started at the water and worked its way up the hill throughout the years.

Most people quietly watched as they passed by. Tanden didn't mind the stares. He was used to being watched whenever they explored cities where Teltans weren't common. His light skin and blond hair, combined with being fairly tall and wearing different clothes, made him an interesting oddity for local people. Soren may have been even more fascinating, with his tattooed arms. Tanden heard more than a few whispers, but didn't engage anybody in conversation. He noticed pretty quickly that the people's Alvarian wasn't quite the same as Elorie's, and he wanted to get a feel for the differences before trying to communicate.

It made sense that the city was so packed. It already took up nearly all the land on the river island, and there was nowhere to expand. The dead city—Balagaya, Tanden reminded himself—certainly couldn't be relocated or built around.

He was quite surprised when the narrow path he had been following opened into a wider yard. The grassy yard must have had a purpose, otherwise Tanden guessed it could have held at least two of the little buildings. At that moment, it was being used by about a dozen children, who were playing a game.

Tanden watched curiously, as one of the children rolled a woody ball towards a row of what appeared to be tall woven baskets. The ball knocked over three of the baskets, and the child threw his fists up in the air triumphantly.

"What are they doing?" Soren was finally able to step up beside Tanden, and take in the scene.

Tanden shrugged. "I have no idea, but I want to try." He crossed over to the kids, who all stared at him curiously as he approached. He crouched in front of the one currently holding the ball, and in careful Alvarian, asked, "What are you playing?"

The boy blinked at him, but didn't say a word. Tanden was about to try phrasing his question differently when one of the other boys, maybe a little older, piped up.

"You have to knock down the baskets." He pointed at a line, roughly dragged through the dirt. "Stand there, and roll the coconut." The boy pointed at himself with his thumb. "I'm the best. I have eight points already!"

"That's very impressive," Tanden said. "Do you think my friend and I could try? We're visiting, and we'd like to learn about your home."

The boy looked around at his friends, and spoke quickly. Tanden understood that he was asking what they thought of the strange men joining their game, but the boy's language was so filled with regional slang that it was hard for Tanden to understand every word.

After a brief, quick conversation, the boy turned back to Tanden and spoke more seriously and clearly. "You can play. But you won't get eight points."

Tanden smiled. "No, probably not," he agreed. "How many turns do we get?"

"Four rolls," the boy said. He waved at the younger boy. "Give him the coconut."

The younger boy did. "Thank you," Tanden said, accepting the strange ball and standing up. It was a shell of some sort, with a wooden texture. He stepped up to the line the boy had indicated, and rolled the ball toward the baskets. The ground wasn't perfectly flat, and the ball wasn't perfectly round. It rolled off to the left side, missing the baskets entirely.

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