text: Maybe inevitably, the census checks were unsuccessful. We spent three hours pouring through books, but the answer was simple. If Sannaz was anywhere in the North, he wasn’t in any of the outer villages. The only place left was the main town, the largest settlement on the island, closely guarded like the base of the South. One of Kendra’s lieutenants was kind enough to let us stay the night in one of the abandoned buildings. We had nothing but the stone floor to sleep on, but we were at least protected from the element. A strong wind howled through the old building, whistling through thin gaps, and banging loose siding. In between the gale I could hear the fringes of the war. Boots would trample along the ground in unison, a percussive drum beat, as they marched off to the fight. The returning steps came a few hours later a tiny bit out of sync, and occasionally quieter. Every so often I could hear orders being barked, or soldiers shouting out updates from the front. But never anything louder. Never a gunshot. Between the noise and the hard floor I only slept for the briefest of moments that night. As we rose the next day, I was certain Kurbani had slept no better. Yet she seemed to take a poor night’s sleep better than me, already standing and ready to go within moments of the sun’s rays creeping through gaps in the shutters. “What’s the plan today?” she asked, as I lazily pulled myself off the floor. “Head north. Check the main town.” Kurbani opened the shutters and studied the outside world. “How do you think they’ll have gotten on in the South?” I shrugged. “Hopefully better than us.” “At least you’ve learned a bit more about the war and what’s happening,” she said to me, her gaze still staring into the morning sun. “True.” I stood next to Kurbani feeling the warmth hit my skin. “Looks like it’ll be a lovely day.” “Would be anywhere but a battlefield.” Kurbani scrunched her face. “We should get going. Would be good to reach the town by lunchtime.” We trekked northwards through the pastures. The further we walked the further back in time we trod. As the North had forced the South back, Northern land became peaceful again. However the scars of the early war remained. We passed a crater two metres wide. Grass slowly regrown over where an explosion had once dug a hole in the ground. At a town I could see bullet holes peppering the building; hundred year old puncture marks etched as record. Yet today, children played outside the same walls. After a few hours we reached the Northern town. It was surrounded by a perimeter wall made of thick wooden poles, the trunks of spruce and pines drilled into the ground. There were two soldiers posted on the path as we approached, however they seemed more relaxed than those further south. While they still maintained their decorum, their eyes seemed less focussed, their backs less straight. They somewhat apathetically took our names and waved us into the town. The other side of the entrance, I could see the full settlement. The town descended a hill towards the coast, before reaching a long spit of land that stretched out, open seas on three sides, a half-dozen boats moored in choppy waters. The records building was about halfway down the hill. We entered and were greeted by a young woman with beady eyes, and sat behind a large oak desk. Behind her several rows of shelves stretched off to the back of the building. She stood up upon recognizing our clothes. “Welcome. We don’t often get neutrals in here. How can I help?” “We’re looking for a fugitive, from another island,” Kurbani replied. “We have reason to believe he may be on this island, and might very well be in this town.” “Have you had many boats arrive lately? Last couple of weeks?” I asked. The woman scrunched her face in thought. “A few. Just trading vessels mostly. One group offering to help with the war effort-“ “People come to help?” I asked. “Lots of people see cause in helping a just war. They’d glandly lay down their lives to support the Sun God.” A brief flicker crossed my mind. But I let it pass. “Do you keep a record of who arrives?” “Oh yes. I can get those files for you. I’ll be back in a moment” The woman turned and disappeared behind a shelf. There was the sound of shuffling books, and the noise of a frame a bit too short reaching for a shelf a bit too high. Eventually the woman returned, opening the ledger as she walked. “This is all boat arrivals in the past two weeks,” she placed the book in front of us. Kurbani and I leaned in to check the details. Only basic information was recorded. The size of the boat, and the given reason for the visit. We knew the rough size of Sannaz’s boat, but one quick lie as to why he was here and he would disappear. There were only a handful of boats, but even among those there were too many to be a possible alibi: come to help with the war, come to offer medical services, trading goods. The list went on. I grimaced as I finished the list. “Not seeing anything. You?” Kurbani studied the page for a moment longer. She leaned in, scouring each line carefully, before her face withdrew. “Nothing,” she sighed. “Thanks,” I said to the woman behind the desk as we left the building. My head sagged as I stepped back outside. This trek across the length of the island was all to discover how quickly and easily Sannaz could disappear. We had no description, no knowledge of where or when he landed. I looked around at the faces of the townspeople passing us by. Anyone of them could be the man we were looking for. He could walk up to me right now, stand within a metre of me, and I’d have no idea who I was looking at. I looked back up the street towards the town entrance when I was distracted by a voice. It was a man, shouting. But not with rage, but instead a controlled rhythm designed to get his voice as far as it could travel. I followed the sound to a crossroads of two paths until the words became distinct. “...the blasphemers in the South. They are mere weeks away from the solstice. A ceremony of utter filth. Of contempt for all that is good.” The speaker wore a thick yellow robe that must have stifled in the summer heat. Yet it was the fervour in his voice that seemed to make his brow red and slick with sweat. “We must do all we can. All of us. To make sure they cannot hold their celebration. While the brave men and women on the battlefield do their bit, we must do ours. Bake the bread that feeds them. Sew the clothes they wear. Mend the spears they use. And most of all, keep them in our prayers.” I walked slowly towards the man, but stayed a few metres away and kept to the shade as he spoke. With each punctuation he’d throw his hands into the air, his head tilting upwards to the sun that beat down on his face. While many people gave little notice as they passed him, there was a small crowd gathered in front, including two soldiers whose heads were bowed, listening intently. “We will make the South pay for their vile heresy. And those of us who truly worship the Sun god will prevail.” There it was again. That same flickering thought with the woman in the records room. This time it clicked. The South were meant to worship the Sun God, but here two people said they were the followers. Initially, I didn’t speak.My face just scrunched as I continued listening to the sermon and my brain fought to process what it was learning. “The Sun God does not want summer praise when it is strongest. It craves the comfort of its followers in the Winter when it struggles for power. That is when the most sacred of festivals should be held.” My mind snapped back to reality about two seconds slower than my mouth. “That’s what this war is about.” The man and his crowd turned to me. “And who are you?” I refused to respond, caught in the oppressive stares. My eyes flicked back and forth desperate not to engage. “If you have something to say, speak.” The man said, stomping his foot. “You both worship the Sun God? Both you and the South? You both want the same thing.” “The heathens in the South do not worship the Sun God-“ “They do.” My voice was calm, but my eyes closed as I concentrated on every syllable. “You both believe the same thing.” “They do not worship the God if they wish to defile it with a festival on the summer solstice. It belittles him.” “You are killing each other over when to hold a festival.” One of the soldiers in the group stepped forward pointing at me with jabbed fingers. “We’re fighting for what they did to us. What they did to our families. Our friends. We’re fighting for our freedom from murderers.” “But why did that war start?” The man in the cape raised his arms wide. “The Sun God needs our strength in Winter, that is when we should praise him.” “But is that worth death? Worth starving over and living behind walls?” The soldier took another step forward. “We cannot seek peace with those who committed atrocities against us.” “Yes you can.” I paused between each word, but as I finished I felt a hand land on my shoulder. I turned to see Kurbani, she leaned in, her face pointing to me, obscured from the crowd. “Leave it Ferdinand. If wars could be stopped by a man shouting in a street there’d have been a lot less bloodshed.” A small corner of my brain knew she was right, but the anger in my lungs fought it. I took a deep, slow exhale, trying to vent the pressure. “You’re right.” I looked back to the man. “I apologise. I spoke out of turn. I will leave.” “Do. Go. Get out of this town,” the robed man said. “If you do not believe the war is just then you are no friend of the North.” The rest of the crowd joined in with various jeers. I could see one of the soldiers tighten the muscles in his arm as he screamed at me to leave. I backed away and headed down a small side street. The first few steps were slow, but as soon as I was out of sight I picked up my pace, not stopping until it felt as though we were out of the vicinity. Kurbani quickly caught up to me. “You were right. The words you said. Problem is, being right isn’t always everything. It rarely is.” I grimaced slightly. “So now what?” “Searching for Sannaz here will be like trying to find a particular fish in the ocean.” She looked at the town around us. “One quick lie and he could be anywhere here. We’d never find him.” “So we give up?” Kurbani leaned her head to one side. “Not give up. But not fight a futile fight.” She looked down the alley at the road where we’d just come from. “Even if that does seem to be your specialty.” I pulled my shoulders back, ready to stand my corner, before I realised that trying to do so would, once more, be futile. “My suggestion,” Kurbani said. “Head back. Let’s reconvene with the others. Maybe they had more luck in the South.” “I just hate returning empty handed.” I sighed. Kurbani folded her arms. “Sometimes that’s just how it goes.” I paused and thought over what she had said. “If you don’t mind me saying, you seem to be taking this pretty well.” Kurbani smiled. “I want to see Sannaz caught so he doesn’t do it again. But I’m not going to just throw shit everywhere and see what sticks. We’ll find him. The smart way.” She patted me on the shoulder. “Sound like a plan?” I looked once more at the web of streets and buildings that surrounded us. I listened to the background conversations of a hundred different voices ricocheting off the homes. Eventually I turned back to Kurbani and gave a single, resigned nod.