Ku-Koro baked at high noon. Bone-dry air blew along the face of the rocky escarpment the town was carved from. There was little activity; even the Su-Matoran took it easy around this time of day, while the heat brought their less adapted companions to a near-shutdown state. The few Matoran out and about kept to the shadows of rocky outcrops, alleys, and verandas. Hunters, their tents pitched around the base of the escarpment, checked their tools and vehicles at a leisurely pace while the rhythmic clanging of a smith at work rang out over everything. Some talk could be heard from inside the Halfway Cave Saloon, where many sought refuge from the heat.
A Vo-Matoran riding a buggy with trailer rode in from an eastern trail. She parked at the base of a stairway leading into the town proper, got out, and cast a scowling glance over the huntersâ encampment. The hunters in turn eyed the contents of the trailer, where a collection of chitinous body segments and two large, blue fangs told tale of what sheâd caught: azemi-fen, a giant burrowing spider. Some impressed murmuring attested to the difficulty of tackling such a creature alone, but she paid it little heed. Turning to head up the stairway, she spotted two nuvatoran playing in the shade. Theyâd been carving something into the wall, but now appeared captivated by the visitor in her elaborate white-and-blue getup. She smiled at them, a sharp-toothed grin conveying not so much friendliness as haughty intimidation. They shrunk back as she passed before watching her march up to the town proper.
Ilani didnât mind the attention; it came with the reputation she maintained. Reaching the lowest ledge of the town, which played the role of town square, she made straight for the largest shop around: the butcher. Ku-koro subsisted on the creatures hunted on the surrounding plains, and hence the shop, carved deep into the rock face, never had a shortage of work. On entry, she immediately attracted curious looks from several of the working Matoran. The most senior among them made his way over to the shop counter.
âYouâre back,â he greeted with a gruff voice. âWhatâs in the wagon this time?â
âSpider,â she answered curtly.
âSize?â
âFull car, left the bad stuff behind.â
The butcher assumed a skeptical expression. âIâll have to check it.â
âWhat, have I lied to you?â She flashed a momentary grin.
The butcher took a moment to consider the matter. âNo, âcourse not.â
âI know what you use and what you donât. Yours for seventy, else Iâll carve it up myself and take it to Gol-Rui. Theyâll pay me double.â
âFull spider, then,â the butcher unlocked a drawer and produced the requisite widgets.
Ilani swept them into a coat pocket. âPleasure doing business.â The butcher gave a nod of understanding. Theyâd done this plenty of times.
She vacated the shop without another word and made her way back to the edge. Looking down, she could tell the precious cargo hadnât been tampered with. Not that anyone would dare to, but it was good to check all the same; other hunters had been eyeing it enviously before. She was in no position to pay for repairs or a lost catch; the spider was impressive, sure, but pickings had been meager lately and her kit needed repairs. To that end, she made her way to the shop from which the clanging sounds were emanating. Inside, a Fe- and Su-Matoran appeared to be on break while a second Su-Matoran was hammering a red-hot piece of armor back into shape. The Fe-Matoran got up at her appearance.
âWelcome,â she greeted. âNeed something made?â
âFixed,â Ilani corrected. âChain tensioner.â
âAlright, let me take a look.â The smith held out her hand.
Ilani pointed her thumb over her shoulder. âItâs at the base.â
âWell, bring it up here, then.â
Ilani rolled her eyes and reached into her pocket, audibly running her fingers through the widgets contained within. Suddenly, she scowled and slammed a couple of them onto the counter with a loud crash. The Fe-Matoran recoiled in shock. Both Su-Matoran looked her way. âYou can carry your tools,â Ilani sneered as she pointed to a toolbox on the shop floor. âGet down there, take it off, fix it.â She turned to head out but paused halfway and looked back to the widgets. With a quick grunt, she reached into her pocket again and pulled out two more. She flicked them onto the counter; both landed perfectly among the others. She flashed a smile to the astonished Fe-Matoran. âGet it done by tonight.â With that, she was out the door.
âWeâll get to it if we can!â
Ilani made her way across the square again. Yeah, theyâd get to it. She knew they didnât get eight widgets for such basic repairs every day, even if she had to drive that point home with a bit of showmanship. Two of the butcherâs assistants were already busy unloading the various parts from the trailer to take into the shop; they knew how to get things done on time. The perishable nature of their working material required it.
On the west end of the square, carved stairs led up to the next level, from where a wooden set led up to the Halfway Cave saloon. Carved from a natural cave about halfway up the escarpment and built out with a wooden façade, it was the central hub of Ku-Koro in more ways than one. She made her way in and headed straight for the bar.
âHe gave me the runaround for three days, Paimat. Guess I owe you.â
âWell-disguised burrow?â the Su-Matoran tending bar questioned.
âVery well,â she confirmed as she placed a ten-widget coin on the counter. âIâm pretty parched, too.â
Paimat was already on it, pouring a mug from a barrel set into the stone wall behind him. âRotten luck, but you can earn it back tonight. Weâre bringing out the kanoka. Lots in town with lots to bet.â
âYou donât sayâŚâ Ilani cast a glance over the room. Half a dozen Matoran were scattered about the premises, some eating midday meals, others apparently just escaping the heat. Paimat unlocked the coin drawer. Ilani pulled out two more widgets and, just as he opened the drawer, flicked them over to it. Both landed nicely in the single widget partition.
Paimat nodded approvingly. âNot bad, but Iâve seen you do better.â
âIâll get more to practice with tonight,â she assured him. âGot a feeling luckâll be on my side for a change.â
âWelcome back.â Letono glanced up at the station clock. It wasnât accurate per se, but he knew Telzinâd been gone for close to half an hour.
âTook a while to find âm,â she explained.
âWhat did they want?â
âEhmâŚâ Well, he knew about its existence already anyways, right? âYou know that thing I found on line 2?â
âThe glowing stick?â
âYeah. I did some asking around, and they wanted to check it out.â
âThey know what it is?â
âEh⌠not really.â Garta and Tykal had stressed secrecy, she remembered. Sheâd already decided not to tell Letono that sheâd dropped by Turaga Floreiâs place on the way back to ask him about Toa Stones. The Turaga wasnât home, nor was his assistant. They hadnât even left a note to say where they were.
Thankfully, Letono didnât press the point further. âWell, now that youâre here, you get to take part in morning checks.â He slid a checklist across the desk. âIf anything gives you troubleâŚâ
âIâll fix it.â Telzin picked up the list, scanned it for a moment, then put it down and got on with it. Who needed a list? She knew the station forwards and backwards, including every bodge sheâd made to keep it running. Everything prone to failure had failed several times over in her few years here, and everything else was as bulletproof as she could make it. Moving parts were the main concern, but apart from a few squirts of oil needed nothing seemed amiss. All engines started and ran fine. The elevator was slow as always but reliable. All this she confirmed in no time. She reported to Letono, who insisted on the checklist being filled out all the same. Important for the daily documentation and all that. With that, the long wait began.
She watched the signal board for a while, but the lightstones stayed down. Though the sounds of industry from up north and city life from the south and east could readily be heard, station 8 was an island of tranquil inactivity. Absent anything else to take her attention, her imagination was running wild around the Toa stone again. By this point, most of the scenarios she could think up involved the appearance of monsters from stories whose names she could only vaguely remember⌠Vuki? Prika? Her inability to recall anything specific about them did little to put them out of her mind. Wearily she strung up the hammock again. She wasnât expecting to get much rest, but comfort and some distraction from the goings-on at ground level could help kill time. Below, she could see lots of Matoran moving about, buying, selling, making, and moving things. At one point she spotted one with a bright, glowing object, but realized moments later that it was just a regular lightstone. How disappointing. And just like that, her eyes were cast to the distance and her mind on the Toa Stone again.
She was out for a while after that, out enough that she wasnât sure what time it was when some movement in the canopy caught her eye. Looking southwest, she could just see the halfway station of line 2. Few places were more pointless to visit, yet there was someone there now. Telzin couldnât tell who at this range, though their stature was Le-Matoran and their colors indicated a plain sense of fashion. She watched for a minute as the Matoran picked over the platform from top to bottom, especially around the engine. Was it a surprise inspection? Surely sheâd have been told if anything was to be checked. Best to check for herself.
She climbed back to the station proper and sought out Letono. âHey, are we getting an inspection?â
He glanced over his schedule. âNot that Iâve heard⌠why?â
âSomeoneâs snooping around line 2.â
Letono looked out the window in the direction she pointed but saw nothing. âWhere at?â
Telzin moved outside to get a clearer view. âThe halfway stationâŚâ Her voice trailed off when she got a clear view. The Matoran was gone.
Letono joined her at the doorway. âI donât see anything.â
âIt was just a minute agoâŚâ She moved towards a bridge to get a better look, but still nothing.
âYou sure?â
âIâm certain. There was someone there. Le-Matoran, definitely. Was checking it pretty good.â She scanned up and down the line and the ladder to ground level from the platform. Still no sign.
âIâll look into it.â Letono headed back inside. âMaybe I missed something.â He sounded far from convinced. Telzin looked for the mystery Matoran for a bit longer, but they seemed to have vanished completely. She had no idea how they got away so quickly; the space around that halfway station was empty, and outside of the long-disused ladder and the rail, here were no obvious ways to get to it. Nor was there anything of interest there⌠She gasped with a sudden realization. There was nothing of interest there now.
Quickly, she made her way back to the stationâs lower levels and checked the backpack sheâd stowed there. The Toa stone was safe inside. There was no doubt in her mind now. Thereâd never been anything of interest on that platform except the Toa stone. That Matoran had to be looking for it. Who were they? What did they want it for? Already the possibilities were bubbling up in the back of her mind. Maybe they wanted to steal it? Good thing sheâd kept it with her rather than leaving it at home⌠Come to think of it, would they search there next? Good thing for once that there was nothing there eitherâŚ
She caught herself before pushing that line of thought any further. This was silly. Maybe that Matoran was looking for the Toa stone, but she had it and that was final. And maybe they were actually just checking the station. Surprise inspections did happen, though not often⌠Letono would figure it out.
Following a coast now dominated by dark, jagged cliffs, Garta spotted the Kini-Kofo from miles away. Perched on top of a rocky outcrop at least sixty meters above sea level, it was every bit as impressive at first sight as had been described to him. Its name, âSmall Temple,â was only true in comparison to the Great Temple of legend; this was a monumental structure in its own right. Its center section, a truncated ellipsoid, was as large as any building in Gol-Rui, not to speak of the six towers connected to it by flying buttresses. Polished metal inlays on the walls shone bright in the afternoon sun, making the temple a beacon even in daylight. Even the grandeur of the snow-covered peak of Ino-Urui in the background was muted in comparison.
As he sailed closer, more of the town came into view, or as least as much as one could see from his low vantage point. Most of it was behind the cliff, but the thatched roofs of some huts were visible close to the edge. More important was the harbor, built some distance east of the temple at a spot where partial collapse of the cliff allowed easier travel up the shoreline. Though the few fishermen that lived in town had likely all returned already, Garta had no difficulty finding a good spot to tie up his boat with some help from a quiet Ce-Matoran harbormaster. With the rod stashed safely in his backpack, he proceeded up a long, winding set of stairs built over the rocky rubble. A gate with prominent inscription at the top marked the entrance to the town proper.
I-Kini-Koro-a Ou Rongala
Beyond the gate, a small square offered a good overview of the eastern half of the town. A winding, cobblestone road led from the square to a park that divided Kini-Koro in two, right in front of the temple. Arranged somewhat haphazardly around it were huts of all shapes and sizes, only similar in their framed wattle-and-daub construction. Some had small rahi pens attached to them, others had awnings under which the Ce-Matoran were working on one thing or another. Garta followed the road, occasionally replying to the odd look or gesture with a restrained nod and smile of his own. This was a very different place than Gol-Rui, more relaxed, more open. He could walk from one end of that city to the other without anyone paying the least bit of attention, but here the new arrival seemed cause enough for everyone to take a moment to acknowledge it. He was glad that the park, the last bit of his journey to the temple, was mostly devoid of huts or their residents; the temple was the center of the town, sure, but the town kept a respectful distance.
The templeâs doors, built of heavy timber and easily four times the height of a Matoran, were wide open to receive visitors. Stopping in the doorway, Garta took in the interior. The core of the temple had two levels, the lower taking up the whole footprint of the structure and the upper a wide walkway supported by pillars and the wall. Metal fixtures around the room held a constellation of candles, but the bulk of the lighting was provided by a large opening in the center of the roof, shining like a spotlight pointed down on a large table set in the center of the temple. A Ce-Matoran was tending to the candles while another moved about the walkway; both acknowledged Gartaâs arrival with warm smiles before getting back to the tasks at hand.
Uncertain of where to look for a suva or anything like it, Garta decided to start with the centerpiece. The table was a work of art in itself: a thick, circular slab of black volcanic glass several meters across, it was gorgeously engraved with a symbol that Garta readily recognized: the outline of the great robot, the Matoran Universe, standing with arms wide. Arrayed in circles behind it was a huge collection of astrological symbols, few of which he could identify. Only one, the red star, as signified by a red gemstone set into the table right above the great spiritâs head, jumped out at him. Smaller gemstones studded other parts of the table, but what they were meant to signify escaped him. The arrangement was bordered by an inscription that circled the whole table.
Ar-isira ai i-atukanomai aorok-ko, ar-vebarra ilavase-i ikarla-ko, ar-fugnika i-aki vuata-ko. Mata Nuiâi no moni anaâi rohi-o vunseya, ai avoter-ko. O maya-su ki i-kai-a ai ako yiya. O maya-su ki ai ako terya ki o lhiya. O maya-su ki ai ako ikarya ki o va-o mayiya.
â⌠to achieve our destiny.â Garta whispered as he finished reading. The temple was so quiet that he could hear a faint echo of even that. He took a step back to get a view of the whole table. Its surface rested on six legs, stone pillars composed of three distinct segments stacked one on top of the other. The symbol of the three virtues was carved into each middle segment. Beyond that, there was little to note. Sure, the table occupied the same spot in the temple as the suva had in the diagram of Metru Nuiâs, but it showed no signs of any function beyond looking impressive. Slightly disappointed, Garta looked around for other objects of interest. There were many: the walls were heavily engraved with a wide variety of symbols, maps, and other icons of legend.
The other prominent thing was an elaborately carved stone pedestal positioned opposite the entrance. Set on top of it was a mask that he readily recognized: the Kanohi Ignika. Well, a replica of it, but a very intricate one, no doubt the work of the most skilled of smiths of the Tahai. Surrounding the pedestal was an ornate display of flowers and greens, well-kept in pots set on small pedestals of their own. The wall behind it played host to a painted engraving of the Great Spirit in the form of a giant robot bringing life to barren lands. Carved underneath was a short description of the events, along with the name of the carver: Pulata. Gartaâd never heard of her, though the inscription mentioned that she was a Po-Matoran and that the Great Spirit had guided her hand in the making of the carving. Somewhat sectioned off from the rest of the temple by pillars supporting the walkway, the pedestal and its surroundings appeared a cozy shrine within the larger temple.
Surveying some of the other sections, which featured sparse coloring and replica artifacts but no less detail in the carvings, Garta found the temple as much a monument to Matoran history as to the Great Spirit and the virtues. He read each description and at times found himself transfixed by one carving or another. Nearer the entrance of the temple, farther from the shrine, dark times such as the Matoran Civil War, Great Cataclysm, and Reign of Shadows were depicted. Closer to the shrine came the hopeful and triumphant moments, the victories of Toa teams and the Great Spirit. Some heâd read about recently, others heâd only heard of long ago, back on the Old World. Now much of it was flooding back, in this monument to all that Matoran were and could be.
âNot bad, is it?â
Caught up in a collage depicting events on the island of Mata Nui, Garta was shaken even by the soft, gentle voice that posed the question. Turning around, he found another Ce-Matoran had entered the premises and was regarding him with keen interest.
âForgive me, I didnât mean shake you.â The Matoran raised his hands.
âNo, not at all.â Garta shook his head and gestured back to the collage. âJust looking up some things.â
âOf course.â The Ce-Matoran stepped forward and cast his eyes to the carvings. âAh, yes, the island of Mata Nui, one of the more relevant pieces.â
âRelevant?â Garta gave him a questioning look.
âMany visitors have compared it to our own situation. A handful of Matoran stuck in a paradise they donât know much about. Parallels are easily drawn.â
âI could see that,â Garta nodded. âDo you work here?â
âI used to, but no, Iâm just checking in.â The Ce-Matoran reached out with a fist. âIâm Celan,â he introduced himself. âI run the inn.â
âGarta.â They bumped fists in greeting.
âWelcome to Kini-Koro. Long journey here?â
âTwo days, with decent weather.â
âA pleasant trip,â Celan smiled. âIf youâre interested, dinnerâll soon be served at the inn.â
âAhâŚâ Garta looked past Celan out the entrance. The sun was setting. Heâd been checking out the temple for a good hour or two without even realizing it. âDinner would be nice.â
âCome with me, then,â Celan invited. âThis will all still be here in the morning.â
Garta looked back to the mural for the moment. With how long heâd been in the temple, heâd inadvertently searched a fair bit of it in great detail and found no sign of anything that might work with the Toa Stone. Before long heâd be searching by candlelight only. Perhaps it was better to call it a day. He motioned for the doorway. âLead on.â
âKaâifa!â Ilaniâs call was accompanied by a âclack!â sound as six dice in front of her suddenly flew towards each other, impacting into a small pile in the center of the kanoka disk. Unity of Magnetism had been achieved in three rolls, a very quick round. It was not well received by the rest of the table.
âI swear youâre doing it on purpose,â Avtaki grumbled. âThree was a low bet and you know it.â Heâd bet on six rolls and didnât stand to gain any of the stash of widgets on the table from it.
âTold you I was lucky tonight,â Ilani grinned as she swept what remained of the stash her way and started counting the contents.
âLuck? Vatra!â Avtaki got up. âNew dice or Iâm out.â
âAgain?â Mavyal, who stood to gain at least something from her bet on four, counted out a few widgets of her own. âGood luck getting a third set from Paimat.â She had a point. The saloon was packed for the evening with a bunch of roaming hunters that happened to all be in town at the same time. With such a confluence came Ka, the gambling game that consumed a solid chunk of their earnings. Five tables were going; most of the die sets that hadnât been through the group yet were already in use by another. Avtaki surveyed the space momentarily before sitting back down and downing a big gulp of Bo-Matoran brew.
âNowhere near enough in the stash,â Ilani announced. âIâm taking donations.â
âHow much over?â Mavyal enquired.
âThirty-seven.â Only part of a big win. Ilani leant back in a clear display of satisfaction.
âSo much for my winnings.â Mavyal slid nine widgets Ilaniâs way. Reluctantly, Avtaki counted out the same amount. Silent throughout the exchange so far had been the fourth member of the table, Kor, whoâd struck out farthest with his bet on nine rounds. His silence did not go unnoticed.
âYouâre on the hook for nineteen, Turaga.â Ilani stacked the widgets into small piles.
âYeah, that I am,â Kor sighed and raised his hands. âMore than Iâve got on me.â
âIâll call PaimatâŚâ Mavyal got up to look for the proprietor.
âNot so fast,â Kor said, getting up as well. âI said I didnât have nineteen on me. Iâve got more at home.â
âMuch good thatâll do you,â Ilani grinned. âNo leaving âtill after the gameâs paid out.â
âSure, thatâs the rules,â Kor nodded, âbut only with whoever I owe. Which means youâre coming with me.â
Ilani shot him an incredulous look. ââŚand leave a winning streak behind?â
âAs Turaga, Iâll have to insist.â Korâs tone had lost its conviviality. âItâll be worth your time, promise.â
âWell⌠a Turagaâs promiseâs gotta be worth something,â Ilani shrugged and swept her earnings into her coat. Though she was loath to leave the table now, Kor wasnât known to make promises or stand on his authority as Turaga. Something worth playing along with, most likely. âAlright then, after you,â she pointed to the door.
Kor made his way out with her close behind, Avtaki shooting her a dirty look as she passed. They proceeded directly towards the Turagaâs hut, located on an outcrop with a near-perfect view of the whole town. Location aside, though, there was little to indicate that this was a Turagaâs residence. A small cobblestone hut with a leather roof, it was no larger than the townâs average home. Its door was always open when Kor was there, or so he advertised, but Ilaniâd never seen the inside of the place. There wasnât much to it, little more than a crash pad with some token nods to his official position. The Turaga spent most of his time hunting with friends, and as such his badge and stole of office were stored largely unused on a chair in the corner. A couple of crates contained some tools and a few documents. There were three rooms, but the two not containing the entrance were barely big enough to lie down in. Ilaniâs field tent had almost as many amenities.
âThe great Turagaâs homeâŚâ she remarked as she looked around. âI must say I expected more.â
âIt suffices,â Kor replied as he rooted around under the bed in another room. He returned with something wrapped in numerous layers of parchment and handed it to Ilani. âHere you go.â
âDonât look like widgets,â Ilani observed.
âUnwrap it.â
She shrugged but obliged, easily pulling apart the parchment to reveal a faintly translucent rod. âA dead lightstone?â
âNot dead,â Kor said as he reached out and put a finger on the rod, which suddenly lit up in bright orange. He pulled back, and the glow faded. âVery much alive, with the right trigger.â
âNow thereâs somethingâŚâ Curious, Ilani put her own finger on the rod and watched it glow bright yellow. She pulled back immediately. âWeird⌠What is it?â
âNot sure,â Kor admitted. âGot it from the barraki in Gol-Rui two weeks ago. Itâs worth a lot.â
âYou donât sayâŚâ Ilani mused. Her eyes remained focused on it. No doubt it was worth a lot, much more than a measly nineteen widgets. âThis your payment?â
âYup. You know itâs worth what I owe you and then some.â
âProbablyâŚâ Ilani kept it cool, but she knew this was something else, worth a lot more. She could feel it.
âHe said I should make sure it ended up in the hands of someone I trust.â
âSo, youâre saddling me with a mystery?â Ilani wrapped the rod back up.
âYou can figure it out in Gol-Rui, I reckon. That or someone will pay you through the nose for it. I know I can trust you to do either, donât matter much to me.â
Ilani pretended to mull over the offer, then gave a nod and stuck the rod in her pocket with the other winnings. âAlright, your debtâs done for. Pleasure doing business.â
âIâll say.â Kor gave a wry smile. âIâd better catch something good to make up for all the business weâve done.â
âIf it helps,â Ilani returned the smile, âI know at least two hunters who lost big this evening. Theyâre probably up for a ride.â
âGet out.â
She wasted no time doing just that. Keeping her composure was part of the act, but inside she was fit to burst. Kor didnât know much about this thing, but he was right on one point: it was valuable. Hundreds of widgets perhaps, as much as she could make out here in a month or more. There was no time to waste: she had to get it to Gol-Rui and appraised properly. As for what sheâd spend the money on⌠Gol-Rui offered many possibilities.
â
Took a break for December 'cause I was busy with other things, but the new year has brought new time to write.