《The Taleweaver》


 Prologue, a shining star

    Music fading out, only the drums left now. Cameras four, five and six running. Holo scanners circling.


    "Sir, we''re live in three, two, one..."


    Arms outstretched in invitation. Turn to camera five. Panning in, slowly.


    "I am Arthur Wallman, and I invite you, dear audience, to a harsh world of strange beauties -- unlike our own and yet in many ways very similar."


    Bend forward. Show intimacy. Camera six panning in.


    "This is the first in a new holo show series, Otherworld Disclosed. I will give you the background and the today as it is -- not the watered down version Federation Holo Casting feeds you."


    Stand upright. Audience leans forward. Sit down in chair. All cameras zooming. Face up again and smile.


    "Otherworld has a past, like our own, and a future we are bound to share together. That sharing has a beginning.


    Humans have always been searching for new horizons. Ever hungry for the unknown, we searched the bodies circling our sun. By the twenty fifth century humans traveled throughout the solar system, making homes wherever ingenuity and engineering made conditions bearable."


    Smile fading. Replace with fatherly love, and compassion.


    "One field of science, however, refused to yield the secrets demanded. Bound by the limits of the speed of light we found the stars out of our reach. Home had become our prison. Hope grew into frustration, anger and resentment. Resentment finally subsided into resignation. Mankind plodded on like a herd of well-fed sheep watching the years passing by, too tired even to hope for a miracle."


    Bend forward again. Camera six zooming, one and three panning out. Tilting head slightly sideways. Express sympathy and hope.


    "Try to remember that time. Pretend that you are still living at a time before that miracle happened -- it will help you to appreciate what occurred, to feel that sense of wonder again."


    Rise from chair. Left hand sweeping to holo cube. Lights dimming. Recorded holo running; there, metal and stone filling the view. Voice only now.


    "Six years ago, in the year of 2761, Theta 47, a fully automated mining and construction unit, disappeared."


    New recorded holo.


    "Captain John Ishima commanded the police corvette sent to investigate whatever accident had befallen the station. Finding it intact would in itself have been a major boon to his career, but what made him a place in history was the finding of the Gate."


    And there his face fades from view. More darkness, and a blackness so total it''s visible against the stars. Zooming in and through it.


    "Somewhere between Mars and the asteroid belt there is a hole in reality, a worm hole, a gate to heaven, or more simply, just a hole, and behind that hole, another world. It''s a strange solar system with only one single planet circling a sun and a moon circling the planet. The planet we call Otherworld is slightly larger than Earth.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Ishima''s first remote survey showed Otherworld''s living conditions practically copying Earth''s, making it ideal for colonization. His second, that it was already populated."


    Holo record fading out. Lights brighter. Cameras two and six zooming in. Stand straight expressing concern and mild outrage.


    "The ecstatic surprise we all shared gave way to hope, and hope''s ugly companion, greed, was soon to follow. Without telling us, the very citizens the federation government is bound by law to serve, they took upon themselves to decide how to greet our new neighbors."


    Drums rolling and the Federation fanfare barely audible in the background. One step backwards as caught by shock and disgust.


    "Within a year the carriers TSS Indomitable and TSS Shieldbreaker were dispatched under the command of Admiral Chang with troops to take control of the newfound gift. After four months of uneventful travel they were orbiting Otherworld.


    Sometime during the last stages of planning before sending troops planet side their communication equipment suddenly voiced a message from the surface."


    Ironic bow. Camera four zooming in, six and three panning out. Turn slowly and slowly walk to number four. Benevolent outrage and then the crooked smile. Invite the audience to share a secret.


    "Yes, this is something that I, Arthur Wallman am able to let you know, no matter how much our government would want it unknown, and if the conservatives hadn''t lost last year''s elections it would still be buried along with the rest of the lies and half-truths only an independent newscaster dares digging through."


    Turn to holo cube, arms outstretched as to receive a gift. Satellite records on.


    "We were to be assigned a small area, barely three kilometers across, as the single point of entry to the planet. This is where the current launch port is located."


    Switch record. Admiral tearing apart his gloves during the last trial where he gave testimony.


    "Admiral Chang, chosen more for his decisive handling of piracy in the mining belt than for any skill at diplomacy, sent a short message back to Earth about the unexpected communication. Rather than waiting for instructions which could have intervened with his career he excelled in military stupidity and gave the orders to proceed with shuttle dropping ground forces targeting all major cities on the main continent."


    Savor that expression of surprise. Now they''re learning what really happened...


    <hr />


    This is the beginning of a completed novel just shy of 130K words. I''ll upload all of it in edible chunks.


    There''s a completed sequel some 100K words in size which will go on-line here as well when I''m done uploading this one.


    Now for the bad news. While both books are completed and self-contained stories in their own right there is an unwritten third novel where lose threads were supposed to be wrapped up. As both finished novels are some ten years old in the writing I''m fairly confident I won''t write the last novel.


    You have been warned.,

 Prelude, a fallen star

    ... and yet Arthur Wallman never knew the events as they occurred, closer to the truth than anyone before him as he was.


    #


    "Steady now. Steady. There she goes. Commander, we have a shuttle drop. Estimated time to surface is thirty seven standard minutes."


    Launch reports were coming in from all shuttle bays. They had dropped the last two hundred shuttles in less than a minute. Almost perfect. Rear Admiral Hirotaka Ashakawa smiled. He was running a well-trained crew on the TSS Indomitable. Better trained than the one on the flagship, the Shieldbreaker, but Dimitri Panopilis, his fellow commander would never agree to that of course.


    #


    Lieutenant Erwin Radovic checked his com unit one last time. Everything was in order. They shuttle dropped.


    "Listen up now! This is what we''ve trained for. Secure perimeter first. Equipment shuttle will come in with body walkers and drop tanks. Drop tanks are parachuted one klick from touchdown. Equipment shuttle lands within perimeter so you have exactly one seven five seconds to take a position one fifty meters from touchdown. Any questions?"


    They were all silent.


    "Good! Goldberger, you''re first. Remember, climb your body walker and wait until the next man is inside the equipment shuttle before taking your position again. Clear?"


    "Clear sir!"


    #


    Captain Vivian McAdams, acting commander of Theta 47, glared at the holo screen. The station was far from ready to be used as an orbital station, but the mining plant was the only thing big enough to use, and the TSS Shieldbreaker had towed it to geostationary orbit. Now she was responsible for making sure the thrusters kept it there during the conversion from mining plant to orbital station.


    Since the arrival of the carriers it had been used as a supply depot, and all unused space was filled with food, spare parts, munitions, power cells and other items the ground forces could need. Those troops were on their way down now, and she was ordered to follow the deployment of an affair she considered foolhardy. She gave the screen a second glare.


    At least her quarters were in order now, and in a couple of weeks the mag train between the docking cradle in the center of the disk and the living quarters at the rim would be converted to carrying humans not wearing pressure suits.


    Vivian sat back in her chair and waited for reports to come from planet side. There wouldn''t be any for another twenty minutes, and she idly wondered if she dared to take a nap. She decided against it and set the primary com channel to watch shuttle 27. Her only son was on that shuttle.


    #


    John McAdams read the data in disbelief. "Lieutenant, problems."


    "What is it?"


    "Hull''s heating up, sir."


    "Check it again! Shields shouldn''t have any problems at this altitude."


    John obeyed. He set the sensors to display data from the shields only. It only took a couple of seconds. There were no readings.


    "Sir, I don''t understand, it''s as if there are no shields."


    "Impossible! Check again!"


    John was about to do so, but the console burned his fingers as he tried.


    We''re burning up.


    He turned and met panicked expressions all around him.


    "Oh my God!" A faint memory from childhood reached him and he had just enough time to voice it. "Momma, a shooting star. Make a wish!"


    #


    Hirotaka growled at the holo screen. "Get me Admiral Panopilis, now!"


    "Immediately, sir."


    There was a slight tone of fear in the voice, and Hirotaka disapproved of it. He would discipline the lieutenant later. Currently they required confirmation of whether they were losing shuttles or not. Incoming data indicated an impossibility. Shuttles, all of them, flared up as friction burned them to cinders on their way down.


    A single lamp suddenly flashed red in front of him.


    What the bloody hell?


    "Sir, reactor breach sir!"


    The last thing Rear Admiral Hirotaka Ashakawa saw was the bright white sun in the place where the TSS Shieldbreaker had been just a moment ago.


    #


    "Sir, contact down."


    Erwin frowned. "Down?"


    "Yes, sir. Nothing."


    "Call the Indomitable! See if they know anything!"


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Yes sir."


    Something was amiss. He corrected himself. Everything was going to hell. Erwin was trained to handle emergencies, not hell. He silently prayed this was only an emergency.


    "Sir?"


    "Yes, Goldberger."


    "Nothing at all. The only signal is from Theta 47."


    "Patch her in!"


    The loudspeakers blared. At first Erwin was unable to make any sense of the wailing. Then he realized it was a woman''s voice, and she was screaming, and screaming...


    #


    ... and screaming. There was nothing in the universe that could stop her from screaming now.


    Shieldbreaker gone, Indomitable gone, almost twelve hundred shuttles gone. Her only son gone, and his last gift to her would never come true.


    #


    A few hours passed before they tried to reestablish contact with Theta 47, but Erwin had the distinct feeling he commanded the only remaining assault group. It did make sense in a horrible way. They had been ordered to land within an area specified by some kind of government here. He had orders to do just that. Not to follow any directives given, but rather to find out what made this small spot of land so special. There was no answer to that question. A flat piece of land, a mountain ridge a klick to the west and not a single living being in sight. It was simply a perfect landing place for an untrained drop shuttle pilot even without proper landing strips laid out.


    He had to make contact with Theta 47 now. He could no longer prolong the inevitable. Erwin stared angrily at the mobile holo screen before he switched it on.


    "Orbit one, IG seven calling."


    No answer.


    "Orbit one, orbit one, IG seven calling."


    He waited, and then, finally, "Orbit one, here."


    "IG seven establishing holo connection, over."


    "Orbit one, confirming holo connection, over."


    Erwin stood in the command center of Theta 47, or rather it looked as if he was. Captain McAdams faced him. Traces of tears lined eyes ringed with red no water could wash away.


    "I need... ," he faltered. A superior officer was where he found strength, not grief. "I need orders sir."


    An uncomfortable silence followed, and he could only patiently wait for an answer.


    "I have received orders for you. Dismantle your shuttles and prepare to begin constructing a launch port."


    Erwin stared at the captain in disbelief but kept his silence.


    Nothing, nothing at all about what''s happened. It''s like it never occurred.


    "You''ll have shuttles with construction units and material sent to you within a standard month. I''ll strip this station of anything that can be used as a drop shuttle in order to keep you supplied."


    He noted grim determination in her face and allowed himself to smile in relief. They weren''t going to be abandoned. One last question then, just to confirm that the federation was playing out a great maskirovka.


    "Is there anything more we need to know, sir?"


    "No, that would be all, Lieutenant."


    "Confirmed, sir. IG seven, over."


    "Orbit one, over and out."


    After he had stowed the holo screen away he called his men.


    #


    "...and we are responsible for guarding this installation until we are replaced. Any questions?"


    "There isn''t one scheduled, is there?"


    Erwin smiled at the man. "No, not really. I guess we are staying here for a while."


    "I have a question, sir."


    "Yes?"


    "What about the others? Do you know what happened to them?"


    Erwin was prepared for the question. There had been no communications apart from the one with Theta 47, and even though he knew what that meant he still refused to acknowledge it. The most obvious answer scared him the most, and he was useless to his men if they felt his fear. That alone decided his response.


    "Others? What others? I have received no information, what so ever, concerning anyone but the members of this group. Any more questions?"


    He didn''t know it at the time being, but with that single sentence he was paving the grounds for a stunningly brilliant career.

 Chapter one, Arrival, part one

    Harbend Garak was a long way from home, even a long way from his storefront in Hasselden. But with the western raiders plying their trade along the shores again he didn''t dare ship anything all the way to distant Khi.


    Years now. I know Verd better than Hasselden by now. Strange turn of luck. He remembered the tedious hours at late evening spent studying the outworlder language. Paid off in the end they did. One of only five independents to get outworlder clients. Guess I should be happy. Of course he was never awarded contracts as often as he would have had he represented a trading house, but he was content. That opportunity and his skill allowed him to avoid sharing the destiny of several other independent traders who found themselves destitute as trade became increasingly difficult under the pressure of the raiders.


    Being a foreigner to Keen himself he found the outworlders to be just another group of strangers with peculiar customs. He eventually made faster progress in understanding their wants and needs than his fellow merchants, almost all native to Keen.


    He slowly looked around himself wondering what this group of outworlders would be like and how eager they would be for local jewelry and other items of art.


    A desk, behind which a female outworlder clerk sat, was a work of art, a wonderful item of pear tree almost certainly crafted in Erkateren by a skilled magecrafter.


    He coughed quietly in his hand, stretched his back and rose. Waiting was always tedious, especially during summer when the heat sometimes made the terminal building almost unbearable.


    The hall wasn''t very large, maybe twenty paces east to west and thirty north to south. The glass sliding doors facing west were still in place, opening and closing by themselves whenever a merchant happened to walk past them. To the left of the doors were two sofas, with four merchants seated in them, three of which wore the green round-hat typical of the trading houses of Krante, a large town an eightdays ride southeast from Verd, three days with coach.


    The last seat was occupied by a woman Harbend had proposed for invitation into the group of merchants allowed to trade with the outworlders half a year earlier. She belonged to a minor trading house in Verd.


    Harbend greeted her silently with a slight bow and was rewarded with a smile of recognition as she stretched her booted legs under the table. Not a beautiful woman, he thought, but competent. She was stocky and always looked out of place, more so with her strange taste for wearing men''s clothes. She was also one of the few merchants he had come to know during his years here.


    He started searching for Olvar de Dagd, master of the richest trading house in Dagd, and always present whenever she was. It was no secret they shared more than their profession, and Harbend wondered what made Master de Dagd take the plump woman to his bed.


    Harbend, concrete wall to his back, looked across a dirty carpet, once red but now worn to a muted brown, and found the master merchant among a group of seven. They stood in the leftmost corner closest to the pear tree desk rather than using the hard chairs lining the walls.


    Olvar''s bright blue contrasted against the gaudy yellow shirts the others wore. Yellow and green, yellow for Verd and the green added for a cosmopolitan touch. They all wore silk, probably imported from Khanati and dyed in Ri Khi, and very, very expensive.


    One merchant leaned over the desk exchanging friendly banter with the blond outworlder woman sitting behind it. Her white blouse lacked adornments of any kind and the absence of jewelry made Harbend think of a meal served without a proper wine. At least she had added some color to her face creating a contrast to her blue or maybe green eyes. Properly clothed she was probably beautiful. The outworlders always seemed to prefer drab servant''s colors, a fact that still amazed him.


    The remaining three merchants sat immediately to Harbend''s right, one sharing the leather sofa he had just left, and the two others occupied in a conversation almost lying in the last sofa. One had placed his hard heeled shoes on the polished table, making Harbend wince slightly. Behind them he saw the doors through which only outworlders were allowed. In difference from the entrance those doors were not made of glass but of a solid metal so deep blue that it was almost black. The metal alone was worth a fortune here, but then the outworlders seemed to have an abundance of it.


    Turning his attention to his shoes he noticed a mark and dug for a handkerchief in a pocket. He polished the silver band hiding the laces. They were good shoes, sturdy but still elegant, and he kept them in good shape with a mixture of fat and perfume he always bought whenever he had a reason to visit Hasselden.


    He traveled too much to like the idea of breaking in new footwear. Blistered feet could ruin an otherwise perfect day. When he was finished Harbend saw that the outworlder traders had arrived into the hall and were heading for the desk.


    He listened absently while outworlder traders were paired with local merchants and made their way through the glass doors. Fifteen names, fifteen traders but still no Gregory Sanders. So, he was to be assigned the last out of sixteen as usual.


    A sudden commotion closer to the desk made him look up with more interest. A middle-aged man clad in something horribly shiny and red with impossibly blue hair crowning the nightmare, immediately caught his attention. The unseemly sight transfixed him until the woman behind the desk broke the spell.


    "Oh my Gooooooooood! It''s Arthur Wallman! Oh my Gooooooooood!"


    The screeching all but brought Harbend to his knees. The stranger flashed a perfect but pained smile to her while a small horde of outworlders flocked around him.


    "Autograph, please!"


    "Could you sign my color-screen? For my son, you see."


    "A signature on my hat? Yes, right there. Thank you Mr Wallman."


    During the madness the stranger regained his composure and Harbend felt strangely drawn to the almost unnatural air of confident charisma radiating from him. Then the aura of confidence vanished as soon as it had appeared, and Harbend gasped at the expression of utter desolation taking its place.


    Whoever this man was, he wasn''t one of the regular traders, but Harbend accepted the strange man as his client even though the name, Arthur Wallman, didn''t correspond to the one Harbend had been assigned.


    #


    Arthur winced uncomfortably at the screeching, but he quickly put on his professional mask. Soon he was signing all kinds of peculiar objects, all the while longing for the ordeal to end.


    He glanced at his wrist computer knowing he would have to add the local time system to its data banks. The communicator he would have to disable, but he hadn''t exactly come here to make any extensive calls anyway. For reasons still unexplained to him visiting traders were forbidden to bring any functioning portable communication devices, and the locals apparently had means to find out.


    Almost a tenth of the early years'' travelers were caught and permanently banned from the planet before the lesson was finally learned, and he didn''t plan to play the role of a very slow student.


    His fellow travelers had all left the room together with the locals.


    Not much of a loss. After all he''d had his credentials falsified, and while on board the merchantman he found himself forced to hold on to his lies about a secret news coverage for his newscasting company. After a few days the novelty of having a famous media personality among them wore off and he spent the rest of the voyage in solitude, which, he found out, suited him perfectly.


    The members of the crowd demanding his attention earlier had vanished back to their previous doings whether those were machine repairs, paper handling or cargo lifting, and he found himself almost alone again.


    I wonder how many of those stationed here came just because of my holos, Arthur thought.


    Another man in the room, one Arthur had failed to notice earlier, met his eyes. Short and slender, as of Asian origin, maybe 160 centimeters tall, straight, black hair shining with a metallic sheen, most of it in a knot to the left but head otherwise shaved clean. In his mid-thirties if people aged the same way here as on Earth, and until their twenties they were supposed to. Bleached but richly decorated, baggy linen trousers were partially covered by a shirt of the same material buttoned only over the chest. The clothes told Arthur hot weather probably was what he had waiting. It made sense. He''d arrived in late summer local time.


    Of course, my assigned representative. Poor bastard, he''s in for a surprise.


    The man rose and greeted Arthur in a singing, outlandish voice. "Harbend Garak, at your service, Lord Wallman."


    "Do I need your services?"


    "None needed, only offered, my lord."


    Irritation still clinging to him as a result of the verbal assault from the hastily gathered fan-club, Arthur lashed out: "Let''s get this straight. To begin with I''m nobody''s bloody lord and what grand services are yours to offer?"


    That made Harbend blanch slightly. It probably wasn''t the start he had hoped for and Arthur knew he was being rude. He didn''t know if the stranger grasped Terran English fully.


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    "My fault sir. I am a trader and help visiting traders when they are here," Harbend tried again.


    "And what if such a visiting trader eventually turned out to be no trader at all, but something completely different?" This was getting fun. Arthur enjoyed verbal fencing and wasn''t above taking any advantage he could. What wrong could there be goading the stranger a little?


    "Then I would still offer him to find a good place to sleep and eat, good sir."


    "Then it has to be good indeed. I am God''s greatest gift to mankind, or mankind''s greatest to God. Opinions vary dependent on who you ask."


    "Which god?"


    What''s so difficult? Here I''m baiting the hook and you won''t bite. "Then so be it my insistent trader. My trade is not with ordinary wares. What I sell has dubious lasting worth where I come from and even less here," Arthur said and bent in an exaggerated bow before continuing, "but do not despair, my gracing your lands with my presence is not brought on by monetary needs but rather personal ones," he finished after standing straight again.


    "That would answer a question I had in mind. I take it you are traveling, ah, what is the word again? Incognito?"


    No, he wouldn''t bite, and Arthur had waited for this question anyway. The identity he''d bought didn''t fool anyone. He was too well known, but bribing the communications officer on the space ship had taken care of that problem until he arrived at Theta 47. It was time to end the joking.


    "You''re quite right, my good man. Now, what do you have in mind?" Arthur answered eager to leave the subject.


    Weeks before anyone can act on my being here anyway.


    "It is already late, sir. We leave and take the train to Verd," Harbend said and started for the doors.


    Arthur followed him through the sliding doors and stepped outdoors onto a gravel road. It had stopped raining but the air was still filled with the aroma of water and wet earth. The rain soaked gravel was slowly steaming and it was uncomfortably hot.


    Arthur saw the queuing pairs of local and foreign traders waiting to receive luggage and beyond them a large group of riders. Thirty or so but only a few of them mounted. All wore the same green and yellow uniforms with swords hanging by their sides.


    "Crossbows?" Arthur asked, surprise mixed with disbelief spicing his voice.


    "Crossbows," Harbend acknowledged. "They are the Free Inquisition," he continued as if it explained everything.


    "Free Inquisition?"


    "Ah, well, a leftover from some local troubles a hundred years ago or so."


    "So, is there an Imprisoned Inquisition, or what?"


    "No, not really, or at least I strongly advise against any such suggestion as long as you are heard. Keen has its own Inquisition open only for citizens. The Free Inquisition is open for anyone who is fit and skilled enough and shares Keen''s view on the use of the gift."


    "And that view is?" Arthur asked while he shuffled forward in the queue.


    "Using the gift is banned in Keen. Any wielder of the art caught in the act is shot on sight. It is not too uncommon anyone suspected is killed before the real investigation starts."


    "Oh, I see," Arthur said glumly. "And why are they here?"


    "They are still a bit edgy about you outworlders so they control anything brought in by your sky ships."


    "I still don''t understand. How can they do that, and by the way, why do you say them and not we?"


    Harbend frowned. "The Inquisition, no matter whether it be the Holy or the Free, has access to powerful tools draining magic with which to make certain whatever strange items you bring still works while within reach of their power." He smirked before continuing, "As for my exclusion it is simple enough. I come from a land far away to the south and do not share their views on the use of the art."


    "It still doesn''t make sense. We''re supposed to trade our wares in a city filled with this magic of yours."


    Harbend smiled. "Magic has not always been banned. There was a time when magecrafters lived and worked in Verd. Once it was the very center of those artisans. The use of the art is forbidden, but the people in Keen are sensible enough to use what is already there. They have always been a practical people."


    "If so, why ban magic?" Arthur asked.


    "They were unluckier than most with the power struggles between mages. A lot of dirty small scale wars hit Keen and those living here." A frown grew on Harbend''s face. "And one big one, of course," he finished, and for a moment there was a shade of regret glimmering in his eyes.


    Arthur mused on the information for a while, and then, as had been the case for half a year, his thoughts turned darker, far darker, and he was once again trapped in his own internal nightmare.


    #


    When Harbend didn''t receive any further comments he turned around eying the ugly sky port. The slated roof with its two small gun towers, manned by outworlder soldiers, were the same as always. From both ends of the building an ugly wall stretched over three hundred paces in each direction. The entire complex resembled a long, straight piece of a giant, polished horn lying in the mud.


    The horses not bound at the arrival gate stood grazing by the wall still saddled and harnessed. He gave the troops a thorough look. Uniforms dirty, leather showing cracks where it hadn''t been oiled properly and the yellow and green bore telltale spots of earlier meals. Some of the men had tired eyes and they hadn''t even assigned a man to check the horses feeding by the wall. Of a full squadron less than ten men were doing anything useful at the arrival gate. Discipline must have grown lax over the last year.


    Harbend threw Arthur a glance but he was deeply occupied with thoughts of his own. Daylight exposed more of the outworlder. Face angular and well kept. Blue hair that must have been colored, because brown was hidden deep beneath it. Eyes shifting between blue and green. Hands that had not seen hard work in a long time ended in too large fingers revealing he was turning fat. As all outworlders he was taller by far than the average here.


    Then there were the clothes. All of them red, shifting grades of red, all shiny and none of it fitting together. Something never deciding if it was a shirt or a jacket was buttoned onto a pair of trousers so tight only the fact that it was of outworlder design and make kept it from bursting. All in all the outfit hurt Harbend''s eyes.


    #


    Arthur forced his thoughts to the present. It was ironic that the stranger also was a foreigner here. Maybe he could share some insight in what it was like living here as one not really belonging.


    Arthur recalled an incident on the surface not too long after the insane, criminal attempt to invade the planet. A decade or so earlier the locals sent cavalry to take the spaceport by force. Two thousand men died in the mud that day without ever coming close enough to use their weapons. There had been no other attempt since and somehow the locals had chosen to produce an official report as humiliatingly unlikely as the one written by the federation military after the failed assault on the planet. An exchange of military stupidity finally resulted in constructive communications between the Terran Federation and the local government here.


    Strange how things turn out in the end. I know I should have shot that extra episode, but what the hell.


    Ahead of him each of the traders received his or her luggage and was forced to open it, spreading its contents over several tables. What appeared to be the commander of the Inquisition troops checked that computers, holo cams and viewers still worked as described by the owner.


    Damn! They''re not fast, are they? We''ll be standing here all bloody day!


    Finally Terran trader, local merchant and luggage slowly lumbered away on the unpaved road leading to a ridge west of the launch port. A pair of rails ran alongside the road and Arthur suspected that whatever rode them was a far cry from the supersonic magnetic trains he was used to from home. As if to prove him right a number of black wagons hissed past him, solar panels glittering in the sun, and began their painfully slow ascent to the ridge.


    Crap! he thought. It promised to be a very slow day. He turned to Harbend. "Three hours on the train to the capital! I should be able to see the damn town from here."


    Harbend gave him an amused look. "I would not worry too much if I were you. The train to Verd is a bit faster than that."


    "I bloody hope so!" Arthur replied aghast at the thought of spending half a day caught in a closed wagon traveling at walking pace.


    Harbend merely grinned in return, two rows of yellow, but otherwise healthy teeth showing.

 Chapter one, Arrival, part two

    Harbend watched the queue where traders were paired two and two. They were already exchanging news and gossip with each other, a guffaw interjected from time to time to reward an especially juicy piece of information, but the man he''d been assigned seemed aloof.


    At least most of this batch have been here before.


    Each time an outworlder trader returned a little bit of color would be added to his or her garb, and those who''d been trading here for five years or more often wore clothes tailored in Verd and could easily have been mistaken for a local had it not been for the shiny information devices looking like decorated mirrors they all carried on their arms. And being a head taller than the rest of us, he added as an afterthought.


    This time the sky ship had brought only two newcomers apart from Arthur. Their gray matching open jackets and narrow trousers were supposed to be very elegant attire where they came from, but when they finally arrived in Verd they would learn that only servants wore those colors. Well, that also left the question of Arthur. The man simply couldn''t have been here before, but he could of course have learned how one was supposed to dress here. From there he must have proceeded to get it all horribly wrong.


    Harbend kept his silence and watched the familiar process of Inquisition troops playing the part of customs officers, being just a little bit too arrogant in their attempts to humiliate the outworlder traders.


    Grow up! We are the same all over the world, all over two worlds it would seem, he realized with amusement. As long as traders made money the treatment by lowly officials mattered little. Besides, all insults had to be translated and probably lost most in the process. Harbend wasn''t sure all outworlder traders were even aware there had ever been an attempt at humiliation by someone they considered being beneath them anyway. He chuckled and stepped in line with Arthur.


    #


    They continued waiting while the sun set far too slowly. The heat combined with humidity soon made them sweat. The loss of water eventually had Arthur thirsty and with thirst came irritation.


    After an eternity in the heat he was allowed to approach the tables. About to copy the motions of the traders he''d seen going through the procedure earlier the commanding officer suddenly blocked his way. A lengthy smattering of words followed a smug smile.


    "He wants to know what your business is here," Harbend translated.


    "That''s not all of it, is it?" No bloody way that question takes a speech to deliver!


    "We do not need to..."


    "All of it, now!"


    Harbend shrugged, showing surprise at the sudden edge of command in Arthur''s voice. "If that is your wish. He asked why he should let a," he halted momentarily, "jester like you pass as you are obviously not a decent trader."


    Arthur''s irritation rose but he fought it down. The uniformed excuse for an untrained dog would pay later. "Tell them I trade in knowledge."


    Harbend hastily obliged. The officer sniffed but seemed content with the answer.


    Two bags were brought from a nearby table and emptied and the soldiers rummaged through its contents. They looked up in surprise when they didn''t find any of the items they were used to see accompanying the visiting traders and were barely satisfied with checking the objects Arthur carried on his person. The bags were eventually loaded onto the waiting cart and the commander started waving Arthur through.


    He didn''t move and confronted the commander with a haughty smile.


    You think I''ve been preoccupied enough to spend three hours without noticing the lack of efficiency you show? Military or no military, Arthur always kept a good eye for evaluating personnel, and the apes here had the stomach to insult him! I don''t fear you. I don''t fear anything any longer. You think you can threaten someone who dies every night? I''ll teach you fear!


    "I take it you''re done with my luggage. Now, could your servants please proceed to check that my very clothes won''t conjure a demon at my command?"


    He received a blank stare in return, and Harbend hesitantly started to translate.


    "Why do you anger the staff-master?" he asked when finished.


    "I just dislike him. Could you just tell them to be quick about it?"


    Harbend shrugged and complied. The man Harbend had identified as staff-master retorted, anger clearly heard in his voice and Arthur saw his eyes thinning and knew that the bait had been taken.


    "He says you had better reconsider your attitude or they will confiscate your goods."


    Arthur laughed softly, but he remembered the lesson he intended to teach the uniformed idiots facing him and kept most of his mirth to himself.


    "Tell the staff-master he should show less interest in my goods and more care for his horses. Tell him that it would be unfortunate if all of his men had a riding accident later today."


    Harbend gave Arthur a questioning look, suddenly looking afraid. "Why..."


    "Just do it!"


    When Harbend was finished the staff-master was white with rage, hand slowly searching at his side. Arthur stared the man in his eyes, smiling broadly and it was with grim satisfaction he saw rage giving way to fear. Mouth slightly open, eyes no longer able to keep contact, a nervous flicker of the nostrils. Yes! The pig would break.


    "I don''t have all day. Either check my clothes or tell your trash to get the hell out of my sight!" Arthur waved at the cart. "When I return next time I expect your lackeys to have a better vehicle waiting for me."


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    Harbend looked at Arthur in frightened wonder and reluctantly translated. The effect was astonishing. All soldiers grabbed for their weapons, but when Arthur took one step forward they backed away realizing they no longer had the support of their own officer. Two of them looked around in bewilderment, but no help was to be found.


    Arthur pointed at the cart. He growled a command he knew Harbend couldn''t understand but the soldiers grasped the meaning of it and moved out of Arthur''s range as if he had threatened them.


    "Harbend, I guess we''re on our way then," Arthur said and climbed the cart without turning his head.


    Harbend ran to Arthur''s side nervously looking over his shoulder, but the crossbow quarrel he seemed to expect never flew and they were soon driving towards the ridge. They had almost reached it before Harbend dared to break the silence.


    "Did you come here to die?" Harbend yelled. "Are you carrying your funeral altar among your wares, or by the gods, what were you thinking of?"


    Arthur gave him a pained look. "They needed a lesson in attitude. I was the teacher they waited for."


    "But what was it all about? I saw the fear of death in their faces."


    Arthur turned. "Oh, they were probably only embarrassed," he said.


    "Embarrassed?" Harbend was still livid with fear and rage. "Gods, do not try that on me!"


    "They should be. Some time ago troops from here reportedly experienced a riding accident. Official version, of course."


    Arthur could hear short, heavy breaths slowly returning to normal. Harbend was calming down somewhat. "I heard about that. What happened?"


    "The normal. They fell off their horses."


    "How many?" Harbend asked.


    Arthur glanced at the tanned face beside him. "Two thousand soldiers, all at the same time. All fatally. Very unfortunate."


    Harbend was silent for a while. "That was still a dangerous thing to do," he said. "You have been here for less than a day and you already start making enemies."


    Arthur didn''t respond. Harbend was probably right, but Arthur had felt out of balance for a long while now. He was more concerned with his own lack of interest in what he saw, heard and smelled when arriving at a new world for the first time. He used to pay attention to his surroundings, but the last six months had passed as if wrapped in a blanket woven from strands of oblivion, and now he rarely bothered taking in what wasn''t born from wrath. Danger, at least, made him feel alive.


    But then, if he was to be honest, the men manning the gun towers would never have allowed any harm to come to the famous Arthur Wallman. Almost with regret he admitted that he had never been in any real danger.


    #


    Harbend noted how Arthur turned inwards again and spent the rest of the slow but shaky ride watching the red gravel on the road between the ears of the mule. He had calmed down by now but hoped the strange trader wouldn''t bring an economic fiasco by behaving this way later, because that was something Harbend could not afford. News from Hasselden was troubled these days and he desperately needed money to stave off a threatening bankruptcy despite his trading skills allowing him to see bad times through this far. Either that or throw his two employees on the street, and honor forbade such an action.


    The road continued into what at first sight looked like a cave but at a closer look was clearly man made. Gravel was replaced by concrete and daylight by lamplight. The train for Verd waited for them in the middle of the tunnel ready to run out to the farmlands west of the ridge. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke and soot.


    "I''ll be damned!" Arthur''s voice told Harbend his fellow traveler had finally noticed one part of their ride was coming to an end.


    "We are the last. We should enter," Harbend said.


    "A locomotive, a real, honest, black, steam engine. I haven''t seen one outside a theme park before. Three hours to the capital. No bloody wonder!"


    "Still the fastest means of traveling in this part of the world. For the people living where we are going it is regarded as a mechanical wonder."


    "Oh, the wonders of technology," Arthur answered scornfully as he mounted the stairs.


    Harbend shrugged and climbed inside. He sat down by a window and with the tunnel being far cooler than the outside he immediately felt how soaked with sweat his clothes were. Greatly discomforted he adjusted his wet trousers.


    A sudden tug suggested that the train had started. A distant rumble confirmed it and the lights in the tunnel slowly passed by.


    After a short while they were out in the open again and Harbend leaned backwards watching the landscape change character. The ridge marked the western border of the small territory given to the outworlders and on this side of it farmsteads, planted fields and herds of grazing horses and cattle made a stark contrast to the barren lands surrounding the sky port. The large herds of horses played a vital part in Keen''s dominance over the region. Not only were they a necessity for the cavalry but they also kept the all-important trade alive. Keen thrived on craft and trade. Much more so than his homeland in distant Khi.


    Thinking of home made him strangely depressed. Even though coastal defenses and an exceptional army made any invasion attempt impossible, Keen''s lack of a strong navy left the raiders masters of the sea. That effectively cut his chances to pay his home a visit, not to speak of trading.


    As they passed more fields he noted that harvest would come shortly, detachments of soldiers helping farmers during the busy harvest days already marching through the villages. With harvest completed an eightday of frantic celebrations awaited the farmers. It was tradition. Verd celebrated its own version of the festival.


    He turned to Arthur only to find he''d already fallen asleep. Harbend smiled. A long day already and it wasn''t over yet. He decided to steal a few hours of sleep himself.

 Intermezzo

    The One Who Dreamed About Funny Jokes, or Checkrizaradghansk in most human tongues, dreamed. Not about jokes, mind you, but a dream filled with laughter nonetheless. In her dream (because she was definitely very female, and anyone who dared to dispute that had to be either very brave or very funny indeed) a most excellently humorous rhyme formed and in that form a giggling door opened, double halves mirroring each other in a happy grin.


    She was old, already on the threshold of becoming a god and the very thought made her beam happily. There were certain advantages to reaching such an imposing age, memories being the most important. There were also certain disadvantages, memories lost foremost of them. And the aspect of forgetting the need of haste.


    She did remember one individual with fondness. One who hadn''t understood the representation of her name in the sounds of man. One who failed to grasp that it was a compressed version of an entire concept, and doing so played the most marvelous joke on her. Refusing to understand what she had told him he stared blandly into her face and stated, "I see, so you''re checkered." And so was she dubbed for ages to come and there was nothing she could do about it, and those knowing her had laughed and all was well.


    She let go of her memories and dreamed about the doors opening. Another arrived, entered the newborn miniature universe only to trip over his own feet and fall headlong to the floor.


    "I truly hate these pranks of yours," he wailed, but his complaints were draped in droplets of laughter so that when they reached her mind they were but a chuckle.


    "I have been called to reach you," she said, her voice drifting like first snow seen by a child.


    "By whom?" he cried, tears of anguish flooding the floor.


    "This is my dream, and my dream only," she said and made him slip in his own tears.


    "I apologize," he answered, unsuccessfully muting his emotions of sorrow, but he did try and she was content.


    "The One Who Kills and Heals in the Name of Light told me in no uncertain terms that your presence was required," she thought, and her mind was wondrous to behold.


    "Why?" Fear and hopeless desperation echoed through the room.


    "We are not to interfere," she smiled.


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    "The newcomers are polluting our world. The latest one is even more different, even dirtier than the rest," he sobbed in response. "We should stop the change before it is too late," he continued, profound sadness filling his voice.


    "You know how change is already upon us. We were forever changed when the first ones came and nothing less than total extermination could undo that, and maybe not even that," she laughed.


    "We already agreed that would not be our course, not even when they tried to wipe themselves out," he agreed heartbroken. "Why don''t we close the portal so no more of their filth can stain us?" he asked, tear filled despair ringing loudly.


    "And lessen the power of wonders? What about the next arrival? It is only a matter of time. Do we close that portal as well? And the next after that? Will you be satisfied when all portals are closed and the gift is finally dead, and our world with it?" she cackled gleefully.


    "They don''t know that," he responded mournfully.


    "No, they don''t know. That is the best of my jokes," she giggled in agreement.


    "You know there will be more," he stated in a flat voice void of happiness.


    "There will be more, and as long as they don''t bring their suns of death we are not to interfere," she answered happily.


    "I see. I will tell my minions and they will comply," he sobbed.


    "Not all of them will," she grinned.


    "Not all of them, but at least all who are not called by She Who Changes Destiny," he cried.


    "That is as good as it can be. We cannot force the daughter of Fate."


    "Then I will depart to do your bidding."


    "Yes, you may go."


    He vanished.


    She awoke.

 Chapter two, Verd, part one

    The train came to a staggering halt, waking Arthur from his uneasy slumber. He shuddered. Sleep had brought him another of the nightmares plaguing him the last half a year or so. By now he didn''t even try to avoid sleeping. There was simply no escape, only a prolonged wait for the torment.


    He stretched his limbs and looked outside, forcing himself to register his surroundings. They had stopped at what could at best be described as a train station. Rather than a proper platform he saw a paved road where people were milling around between carts and carriages.


    Through the open windows he heard voices in the local language and the air was filled with the smell of horses and sweat. The sun had set and the scenery was lit by lamps and torches adding little light and just a bit too much smell.


    Noticing that Harbend was no longer present he left the compartment. Resolve wavered and when he climbed out of the wagon he was once again immersed in his inner world of horrors, paying very little attention to the frantic chaos surrounding him.


    #


    Harbend paid a couple of the uniformed porters to haul Arthur''s luggage onto a small wagon and then gave them directions for delivery. He''d jumped off the train before it stopped to ensure their entering the city as quickly as possible. The train station was brimming with people trying to sell their services to weary travelers, their numbers multiplied tenfold by passengers from the villages they had called on during the ride to Verd.


    A man grabbed his arm. "Snacks, sir. Roast pork. Good for you after a long day."


    Harbend shook him off. He didn''t have the time at the moment. Later, maybe, at a decent place.


    He neatly sidestepped anyone who tried to sell him food or small trinkets and began the task of making sure Arthur''s goods were registered and delivered to the outworlders'' independent warehouse. Harbend, along with all independent merchants as well as the smaller trading houses couldn''t afford warehouses of his own.


    It was at that time he learned that Arthur, alone of all outworlder traders, had brought no goods except what was contained in small crates rather than the oblong containers used to store metal.


    Angrily he made his way back to the train only to find Arthur standing on the road totally oblivious to what was happening around him.


    "Excuse me, sir. We have yet to find you lodging for the night." The words had the effect Harbend wanted and he led his disorientated client to their waiting carriage.


    #


    Arthur allowed himself to be dragged to an enclosed wagon, a wooden contraption with a multitude of leather straps connecting it to a pair of horses.


    He smirked. It was clear that each step of his journey decreased the level of technology available, but keeping his thoughts to himself he climbed inside the wagon. To his surprise he found himself seated on comfortable, padded leather. When they started moving he learned that unlike the cart they rode earlier this wagon was equipped with decently efficient shock absorbers. Sitting inside the carriage he barely noticed when they passed through the outer gates.


    The carriage stopped and he heard muted voices apparently coming to some form of agreement and then they continued. Here great lamps above them lit the streets with a warm, yellow light. As they rode on he was slightly surprised by the size of the city and the height of the stone houses flanking its streets.


    People strolled along the sidewalks, some clad in garbs much like his own and some in clothes far more discreet. But for the ever-present noise of horses and wagons he could almost have believed himself in one of the holiday cities in central Europe where tourists flocked to enjoy living out history for a week or two. That and brightly uniformed soldiers strolling around in pairs or small groups, ugly weapons within easy reach.


    They stopped again. The doors opened and Arthur stepped down a wooden block with carved stairs that must have been placed there but moments earlier. Harbend followed behind him and paid the driver.


    "Sir Wallman, we have arrived at Two Worlds, the best hotel in the city," Harbend said weighing a pouch of coins in his hand.


    "Two Worlds?"


    "It was renamed some years ago."


    "I see."


    Arthur gave the building an appraising look. It was a six stories monstrosity built of red granite and white marble. He felt as if confronted with an unusually failed replica of a city palace from imperial Vienna a thousand years earlier. Gaudy as a Martian palace in all its pink, vulgar splendor.


    He shook his head and doing so he saw his own reflection staring back at him from the inlaid mirrors in the grand wooden doors facing him.


    "I thought you would feel more like home here, sir."


    "Now, what the..." Suddenly aware of his own clothes and hairstyle he blushed slightly before fully enjoying the elaborate joke played on him and laughed loudly. "We''re most definitely beginning to understand each other."


    He walked to the doors, waited for them to open and remembered where he was. Just as he was about to push them open they were pulled inwards and a boy in silk livery the color of sun dried bricks raced out to pick up their bags.


    Arthur entered. The hall was indeed as resplendent as the exterior suggested, with two great marble staircases curving up to the second floor and a huge, ostentatious chandelier providing most of the light. Statues, paintings and the occasional richly ornamented lamp cluttered the walls, and the sheer amount of massive stone kept it cool even in summer heat.


    No one there except the uniformed guards who had opened the door.


    The porter didn''t return and Arthur assumed the rest of his luggage was carried in through some back door. Harbend passed to his right and climbed the stairs, and Arthur, not knowing what else to do, simply followed.


    The hotel, after he awkwardly made peace with its gaudiness, turned out to be first class; his suite as luxurious as anything he''d experienced at home with the obvious technological implementations lacking. It more than made up for it with everything made from the finest natural materials he could imagine.


    Arthur left Harbend in the living room and went in search of a bathroom. It welcomed him with the surprise of having running water. Peeling off his clammy clothes he realized just how sweaty they had become.


    He spent a wonderful half an hour in a tub of hot water, a luxury unavailable for several months. Finally satisfied he got up and dried himself. With a feeling of relief he entered the bedroom, toweled body still steaming from the hot bath.


    He hadn''t brought a formal business suit and settled for a pair of green, knee length trousers, an orange bolero with tails and his best red silken shirt. Happy with the outfit he still suspected he''d better buy clothes here unless he wanted to draw too much attention to himself. The day wasn''t over yet and with that knowledge lingering in his mind he resolutely threw the doors wide open and walked into the living room.


    Harbend waited for him there, as did the crates, hoisted onto a large hardwood table and Arthur wondered how the porters had managed hauling them up the stairs.


    It was probably time to convince Harbend to sell off the token trading goods contained in the crates. Paying Harbend a little extra for the trouble wouldn''t hurt neither.


    "Time for business?"


    "If any," Harbend answered unhappily from the chair where he sat.


    "I''ll open the boxes so you can evaluate the worth of what I have to sell."


    "Do so."


    Arthur chose not to take note of the tension in Harbend''s voice.


    "Well, start with this one I think." Arthur leaned over the table and put a hand to the lock. The lid sprung open and revealed an uneven surface of brown leather.


    Harbend rose and stepped closer. "What is it?"


    "Books. I had some works converted into bound paper some years ago when I played with the thought of coming here the first time, but there never seemed to be time enough."


    "Books?"


    "Yes, I have dictionaries, works on grammar, etymology and other academic works in the field of linguistics."


    "Excuse me, I fail to understand."


    Arthur thought for a while before facing Harbend. "I have books where words are defined. I''ve also brought books explaining the rules and history of my language. On top of that there are a few works on our view of how languages work and develop within scope of the society they exist in."


    Harbend was silent at first. "And all in paper?" A smile slowly spread over his face.


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    "Yes. I was told you had a written language. Taking into consideration your level of technology I assumed that pages or rolls of text would be easier to sell than the equipment we use at home."


    "Indeed. It will bring a good price, far better than you think." There was nothing left of Harbend''s sullen disappointment now.


    #


    Harbend brightened at the thought of selling this very first batch of written insight in how the outworlders thought. Almost reverently he picked up one of the volumes and caressed its smooth leather.


    Slightly smaller in size than he was used to, less than two hands high and just about one hand wide. Title printed both on the cover as well as on the back.


    He carefully opened it. The paper was dull but of very fine quality and the peculiar structure of the writing made him guess he was holding a catalog of words.


    The cargo would bring a good price, probably better than the normal load of metal he''d initially expected to handle for his client. "And you have five crates full of this?" he asked, slowly letting out a long breath of air. Here was splendid profit waiting to be made.


    "No," Arthur said opening another crate, "I thought I might need something more easily converted to money here to cover my expenses."


    Harbend stared at the contents of the crate, mouth wide open. "What, what... Do you have any idea how much..."


    "No, as a matter of fact I don''t. I haven''t had to think about money the last twenty years, and I wanted to make sure I brought enough valuables not to start now."


    Harbend stared at the riches displayed before him. Bars of gold, silver and platinum neatly stacked between small cases he almost certainly knew were filled with jewelry, most probably sorted by either value or material. "You have brought enough to buy a large town including all farms supporting it."


    "Oh, it doesn''t represent such a fortune where I come from," Arthur answered silently.


    #


    Still cataloging the last of the merchandise Arthur finally noted that Harbend must have taken the opportunity to get washed and change clothes before coming back here. The generous mass of black hair was tied into a knot on the left side of his head and he wore a pair of dark blue silk trousers glittering with an almost metal sheen. A white linen shirt hiding under a crimson, waist length jacket, glimmering as if alive, completed the outfit.


    I''d bloody better start to pay more attention to what''s happening around me.


    He forced himself to stay alert for a while longer. "Harbend, can you sell this?"


    "Of course, even though I fail to understand your need for money."


    "Because I''m supposed to be a trader. If I start spending loads of money here then I guess I should make a show of having earned it first."


    Harbend smiled and bowed ever so slightly. "That is the spirit of a true merchant. Yes, I will help you get the best possible price for your books. They do represent a fortune after all," he finished, still caressing a leather bound volume in his hands.


    Now there was a man mentally preparing for the negotiations to follow. Harbend probably enjoyed that part almost as much as the money involved. Arthur was well aware of the fact that no one had ever brought books here before, and that in itself ought to make it all the more interesting.


    "I shall take a commission. Eh, one fifth?"


    Arthur grinned happily. He''d played this game early in his career and been quite good at it. "One part of twenty."


    "That is not a commission, and you know it. One sixth."


    "Now, that''s robbery. Sure, I need you translating for me, so I might accept one out of sixteen."


    "One part in seven."


    "One out of twelve, net only and you have an agreement."


    Harbend''s face clouded. "Now wait a moment. Gods! You are a cunning one. I shall be satisfied with one part of eight, and that does not cover what I am paying for your living."


    Should I continue? No. I need a happy contact planet side. Arthur laughed and accepted the offer.


    Harbend tried to look dismayed but they both knew the deal would still earn him a lot more than he usually did and he joined Arthur''s laugh.


    "I bid you a good night then. We have work to do tomorrow," Harbend said, bowed and left the room.


    Alone again Arthur felt the weight of the hour. He carefully closed his crates and, stifling a yawn, entered his bedroom.


    #


    Arthur wandered through the corridors fruitlessly searching for a place serving breakfast. He''d all but given up when he recognized the youngster who''d taken his bags the day before. On the verge of asking for directions he remembered that any question would be as unintelligible as whatever answer he was provided with and decided to return to his rooms.


    Harbend waited for him, wearing the same clothes as last night, but in addition he had donned a long robe, a blue as dark as night with traces of silver lining the edges. He held a soft, black hat in his hands.


    "You''re up early. I just had my morning meal, but seeing you returning here I assume you''ve had breakfast," Harbend said rising from the chair closest to the crates.


    "As a matter of fact I haven''t. I couldn''t find the dining room."


    "Dining room? This is not a tavern." Harbend frowned. "But excuse me. You must be starved. I shall arrange for your meal. There is still plenty of time." Harbend walked behind the table and pulled a rope Arthur hadn''t noticed the night before. "A servant will come shortly. I shall order an assortment of different courses. Later you may make it known what you prefer."


    Arthur said nothing and sat down on a couch close to the windows. There wasn''t much he could do but wait, and the prospect of food kept him in eager apprehension.


    In the morning, with sunlight flooding through the generously sized windows, the room took on an altogether different character. The marble and granite almost blended into each other, and where the dark furniture had seemed forbidding last night they were merely stout with a peculiar grace making them come alive. Thick carpets lay strategically placed wherever he would most likely have chosen to stand or walk.


    Harbend gently tapped his shoulder and Arthur turned.


    "The food is here. You should eat."


    Arthur looked around. He''d been so preoccupied with his own thoughts he hadn''t noticed anyone entering the room. And exiting, he realized. They were alone again, but a table closer to the bedroom was set with platters, bowls, jugs and bottles. A generous heap of bread and fruit sat in the center accompanied by meat and pies he''d normally have preferred far later in the day.


    He sat down, eager to try the delicacies of the world. He''d never been afraid to try new cuisine and with great appetite ate his way through the choices available.


    One platter with what he first thought was meat turned out to be some kind of pickled fish, a surprisingly fresh way to start the day. The bread mostly of a white type he knew from home, but a few slices were a dark brown, rich in taste and with small pieces of dried fruit sweetening it. No butter, but a wide variety of thick, spicy sauces functioned as tasty substitutes. Sausages a bit bland, some almost tasteless and he made a mental note to avoid them in the future. Milk, and what seemed to be yogurt tasted and smelled the way he expected.


    Automatically searching for a pot that wasn''t there he sorely missed something hot to replace the nonexistent coffee. He tried a bit of the weak wine but it was too early in morning for him to appreciate it, and he finished his meal by pocketing a couple of apples before rising from his chair.


    He nodded happily to Harbend. "Thank you. Never start a day on an empty stomach, you know," Arthur said, feeling content.


    Harbend gave the table an appraising look. By now he should know what fares to avoid. "Well, I guess we are on our way then," he said. "You need not worry about your crates. Porters are already sent for and I have marked the four I assume you want to bring."


    "Ah, perfect. On our way then?"


    They left the same way they had arrived the evening before.


    A coach waited for them when they entered the street. Harbend must have taken care of that detail as well.

 Chapter two, Verd, part two

    Harbend noted how Arthur hardly gave the shining streets a look before climbing their coach, and realized Arthur had once again sunken into the peculiar apathy he displayed from time to time.


    Sighing, Harbend shrugged. Now he might become a lucky merchant. He''d managed to get over two parts of a hundredth more in commission than most did, and Arthur''s cargo represented a substantially greater gross value than anything Harbend had seen an outworlder bring in earlier. Arthur might be a strange one, but if he was worth half again as much as any other trader, why bother?


    He joined Arthur and they were on their way.


    In early daylight one strange aspect of Verd became almost painfully clear, literally so. All streets as well as the foundations of most buildings shone as if an army of cleaners had gone over them with water and brushes the previous night. Still he knew nothing of the kind had happened, and he''d grown accustomed to the powerful, yet muted magic making this impossibility of a city work.


    All the dirt and offal produced by far more than half a million people living here vanished nightly and reappeared on fields almost a day''s ride from the city. It was the same with water. It just arrived, and the city cisterns were always full with clean water. By now he also accepted that the outworlders took most of it for granted, but at least the shining streets usually caught their attention.


    They crossed a large square and he nudged Arthur to attention. Here was a sight worth seeing.


    #


    Arthur shook himself from his thoughts when he felt several tugs on his sleeve and looked up.


    What now? Oh, oh.


    A huge, open space crowded with birds, humans and wagons all on their separate business.


    Now there''s an opening shot. By God, what is that?


    A dreamlike castle, not as overbearing as the hotel, but far, far larger. Rising, never ending, climbing on itself into heaven. Soaring as if alive.


    A skyscraper, but beautiful. How the hell did they build that thing? It should fall in on itself.


    Walls like silver and gold, supporting spires so thin they were balancing like a tightrope walker. Two great wings stretched sideways trying to embrace the square, and sunlight playing on their roofs, each reflection depicting a scene from myth or legend.


    Give me a fly cam to the left and one right above us. Holo scanners need bloody fliers to ring it! Damn if I''m sure the scanners could take it all. It''s so big, and it''s changing. One episode, or two if I stretch it.


    "What is that?" Arthur asked awestruck.


    "That is Ming Hjil de Verd, loosely the emperor''s Verd in your language."


    Arthur nodded.


    "Once it served as the imperial castle but today it serves the Council of Twelve."


    "Your local administration?" Arthur asked without turning his attention from the view.


    "Well, not mine," Harbend answered with a chuckle, "but yes, I guess you could call it that. In the left wing you will find the library, the largest in the known world containing almost half a million volumes of all kinds. It is the pride of Keen. Even those who work in other fields of fine art admit that."


    Arthur sighed.


    So beautiful. I didn''t know a building could be alive like that.


    The coach crossed the square, passing by peddlers and farmers selling their wares from carts; each salesman loudly announcing the excellence of what he or she had to offer, and some of them caring for the occasional customer. And there were children, hordes of children, walking, running, playing or being carried by parents.


    He turned his attention to the castle again. The roofs covering the magnificent building weren''t tiled but rather a continuation of the walls curving to cover the interior. As they neared the end of the square the wonder changed again, gold turning to glimmering red and all silver transforming into an ocean of blue. Then a cloud of flying pigeons obscured his sight and they were once again riding down a wide street.


    "That was, that was beautiful!"


    "There is some great magic in this place," Harbend agreed. "We are soon at our destination. I shall introduce you as my client. A chair is waiting for you. Please stay seated until I call you."


    Arthur nodded.


    "Each trader shall display a sample of their wares, one at a time and apart from the local merchants you saw when you first arrived there shall be others," Harbend continued, and Arthur nodded understanding again. "You, however should act as if you have brought all of your wares here as you have nothing stored elsewhere. Most of the local merchants present shall be agents representing houses who did not get a permit to represent one of you directly."


    "Permit?" Arthur asked.


    "Yes, you arrive sixteen at a time once every three eightdays and there are more merchants who want to represent one of you directly than that number."


    "Uh um," Arthur said when Harbend fell silent and only the rumbling of the wheels disturbed the peace. "I''m familiar with your week being eight days long."


    "Good," Harbend said approvingly. "One eightday before a group of your kind arrive there is a lottery held in the trade hall and sixteen names are drawn. Exceptions are made whenever one of you requests to be represented by someone special."


    It made sense. Arthur knew only a couple of hundred traders made the journey here each year, and from what he had learned almost all participants involved in the business parted ways very satisfied with what they had gained.


    Metal was scarcer here than in Terran space, or at least less available, but precious stones more plentiful. Simple things as clothes, weapons and art the traders brought back to Earth and sold for outrageous prices constituted another source for profit, yet another way to keep up the charade of adventuring gold diggers. In reality most of the Terran traders had to be spies waiting for the day Otherworld was ready for business on a scale the inhabitants here probably were unable to grasp.


    The price Harbend indicated concerning the gold, silver and platinum came as a great surprise though. To Arthur that was proof the traders he paid for information were less than honest about how much extra they made from trading precious metals in addition to the more mundane metals that were the base for the trade. More than a little extra lining their pockets, he guessed, and why not. How else to convince anyone to accept the sometimes yearlong round trip time over and over again.


    Memories of a different kind stirred in his mind. "You, know, on our way here I saw something that got me worried."


    "Yes?"


    I know you lack a lot we take for granted, but I didn''t think you starved."


    Harbend turned. "Starve? No that was a very long time ago. At least here. The midlands, Chach and Wherdin most often, is where you may see famine."


    "Strange, I saw several people, mostly..." Arthur frowned. "No, all women with swollen stomachs."


    Harbend laughed back. "All you first comers say the same thing. Pregnancy. You are familiar with the concept? Giving birth."


    "But, but... oh," Arthur nodded to himself. Then the full horror struck him. "But that''s..."


    "Barbaric, yes I know you think so," Harbend filled in. "We do it the way the gods meant. Please accept that your way is foreign to us, foreign and awful. We grow vegetables the way you grow children."


    Arthur shook his head. He should have known. Otherworld lacked the knowledge to save women from the atrocity of childbearing. Probably lacked the means to regenerate limbs lost to accidents as well. Arthur thought of other horrors anyone living here had to accept. Uninvited plans for several seasons¡¯ worth of Otherworld Disclosed came to him, but that was another life, one he had given up.


    Their coach stopped, and the doors opened. This time Arthur had time to see the back of the man bringing the wooden block of stairs. Arthur climbed out relieved one small mystery was explained. He stood still to make way for two middle-aged women occupied in agitated conversation before examining the building they''d arrived at. The wall and stairs facing him belonged to a construction far older than the hotel where he lived. It seemed to be taken care of with great love and the entire whitewashed facade was spotlessly clean. Just like the streets.


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    They entered and arrived in a great hall sparsely lit and somewhat gloomy. Windows much narrower than in his suite. Two chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and several lamps fastened to the walls added some light to the hall. The walls weren''t painted. Age had worn them to a dark, brown tan as it had with the two rows of benches lining the walls on each side of him.


    At the end of the hall Arthur saw several chairs of a much more recent date. He counted. Sixteen, of course.


    The floor was separated into two sections with the one closest to the entrance a gray stone and the other wood so old it was worn to an almost papery white. Above the benches symbols wrought from metal covered the walls from the level of his height and almost all the way to the ceiling some six meters up.


    The very air smelled of ancient history and he could almost taste the endless years of gatherings here. He wondered what it had been used for before space ships had disturbed their world.


    Trade, understanding slowly told him. We''re merely new trading partners to them. They must have conducted business here when slaves were brought to Rome in chains.


    Almost reluctantly he was filled with respect for an ancient culture with its own splendor, the second reminder in just one morning.


    "I guess we''re early," he said when he found his voice again.


    Harbend didn''t answer. He just pointed at one of the chairs and chose a place on the right hand bench for himself.


    Having nothing better to do Arthur went to the appointed chair hearing the sound of his steps change as he left stone behind him and entered wood. He sat down facing the entrance, and watched how in ones, twos and threes people entered the hall, a few coming for the chairs but most taking a seat on one of the two rows of benches.


    As the hall filled, the noise of people talking to each other became louder, bouncing between the walls and making it all but impossible to pick out any single conversation. Only the traders from Earth were eerily silent, as if too busy taking in what was happening around them or too aware of being part of an exhibition, sitting as if on display like pieces in a museum. Now that''s an amusing comparison.


    When all sixteen chairs were taken, and with only a few places left on the benches, the noise subsided, and the men and women on the benches turning their faces to the entrance as if waiting for someone to enter. Eventually it turned out it wasn''t someone but rather a group of four. All wore plain black robes, but with them standing there, light from the entrance in their backs he couldn''t make out any more details.


    Slowly striding further into the hall they became individuals with distinguishable features rather than dark silhouettes. To the leftmost a stocky, middle aged woman with streaks of gray in her hair, yellow jacket and white skirt hidden under her robes. Next an old man, still tall and unbent, almost bald with a long, white beard and yellow silk showing from time to time as his robes moved. Then two more women, twins Arthur guessed. They would have been in their early hundreds on Earth but he guessed they were at least fifty years younger with the level of medical knowledge available here.


    When the quartet reached the center of the hall they halted, backs to each other so every person seated would face at least one of them.


    The old man slowly spoke in the local tongue, so slowly and clearly Arthur picked up a word now and then. The merchants on the benches murmured in response and Arthur could hear from the cadence that it was a well-rehearsed ceremony. It came to an end with four boys carrying chairs which they placed within a hands grasp of the group in the center of the hall, and each of them grabbed a chair and sat down, still facing in the same direction as before.


    One of the twins bowed, clearly indicating one seated merchant, and Arthur saw a young man in red and blue rising to return the greeting. The man stood straight and started to speak: "William Anderson, you are called to display your wares," he said in broken English.


    Arthur rose to let the lanky Martian pass while listening to the words being translated.


    William wore a fluorescent, marine blue business suit with more than a touch of pink, always the pink of Mars.


    Part of the wooden floor before them detracted and a system of elevators brought boxes to their sight.


    William awkwardly entered the platform, heels loudly clicking against the floor, halted just before the boxes and bowed facing those sitting on the benches, ripples of blue slowly running over his suit like waves crashing on a pink beach never seen on the surface of Mars.


    "What you see are samples of what I have. The warehouse of house de Khalinan contains the rest," he said.


    Young de Khalinan nodded in response and translated. The old man in the center of the hall awarded him a question, and again the tone told Arthur it was all ceremony.


    "What do the samples represent, and what quantities have you brought?" de Khalinan asked, still standing erect as if on parade.


    William bowed and answered, "All measurements in standard Terran units. Tin, three tons. Iron, twenty tons. Copper, six tons. Beryllium, five hundred kilograms. Lead, two tons. Silver, seventy five kilograms. Gold, forty kilograms."


    It was translated, a question added and immediately translated before anyone could answer.


    "Does anyone want to start trading for these wares now?" the young, native merchant asked.


    No one answered. A statement with a translation followed, "Then we of house de Khalinan welcome any of you during the eightday to follow."


    De Khalinan sat down and Arthur once again had to make room as William returned to his seat.


    And so it droned on for most of the morning. Arthur noticed that the more experienced traders were called first and realized he would probably be last.


    He caught his breath and looked up. His right foot hurt. From his right William Anderson grinned. "Your call, rise," he whispered.


    Arthur stood, toes aching where William had put down his heel. Arthur realized he must have fallen asleep halfway through the procedure. He saw his four crates and two boxes he didn''t recognize on the platform and went there. He cleared his throat and met Harbend''s amused stare. Harbend wasn''t the only one. William''s wakeup call hadn''t passed unnoticed.


    Damn if I''ll be the show without running it! Arthur thought. Let''s give them a taste. Back straight, an inkling of a bow and then my trademark, ironic gaze. Ah, they just had to meet it. Got them now. So apprehensive, just waiting for my message. That, dear Harbend, is how you grab the attention of your audience.


    "What you see is what I have brought," Arthur said remembering there were no more wares waiting in a warehouse.


    Harbend translated and a slow murmur of surprise spread along the benches. They must have expected the normal display of samples. Arthur used the time to open his crates and both boxes.


    Ah, clever bastard, he thought after discovering the contents of them. He should have thought of bringing some of the precious metals himself, but luckily Harbend had done the thinking instead. Arthur counted the bars. Over half of it here.


    "What wares have you brought, and what quantities?" Harbend asked from across the hall.


    "All measurements in standard Terran units," Arthur said remembering how his fellow traders had answered. "Silver, two hundred kilograms. Gold, two hundred kilograms. Platinum fifty kilograms."


    Harbend translated and some brows were raised before Arthur could continue. "Oxford Press, Oxford Dictionary Terran English, fifty volumes, current edition. Harlington Press, Terran English Grammar and Spelling, fifty volumes, current edition..." Surprised outcries drowned him, and Arthur was unable to hear himself and waited silently for the bedlam to abate.


    It was obviously a breach of convention, but there had to be a first to everything, Arthur thought. Silence finally fell, and he was able to continue, this time until he finished declaring his goods, all in all some two thousand volumes.


    Harbend winked at Arthur who finally grasped what was coming.


    Oh hell, no! You bastard! he thought, but there was nothing he could do.


    "Does anyone want to start trading for these wares now?" Harbend asked, voice breaking more than a little, apparently barely able to constrain himself from bursting out in guffaws.


    All hell broke loose.

 Intermezzo

    "Are you telling me he managed to disguise himself as a trader and go through the Gate?"


    "Technically, no, but for all practical purposes I''m afraid so, Clayton. He made some clerks at Migration and Commission for Belt Trading very wealthy."


    Both men walked along a riding lane in southern France, beautifully shaded by the canopy of trees above them but, most importantly, not within earshot of anyone.


    Clayton wore his usual black suit as if he believed his office required him to stay, if not invisible, then at least as unobtrusive as possible. The man at his side wore the red uniform of a high ranking naval officer.


    "And this is confirmed, without a doubt?"


    "Yes, he even biosigned his autograph for a fan working at the launch port."


    Clayton winced at the news. "Then it''s too late to deny it. How long can we keep the newscasters out?"


    "Normally I''d say half a year, but you know how bad he hurt FHC when he sold out to Red News."


    Clayton nodded and sighed. "Yes, I know. There''s something dirty behind that story, but we can''t prove anything. Christina Ulfsdotir probably has murder on her mind. If she can get back at Wallman with her dwindling resources she''ll do so?"


    "Yes, I''m afraid that''s the case," the taller of the two men confirmed.


    Clayton stopped, reversed his steps and sat down on a stone bench they had passed earlier and leaned against the tree trunk behind it. He felt very tired right now. "Two months before she acts then?"


    "At most. Six weeks more likely. They''ll make surface another three months after that."


    "Erwin, we have an agreement with them."


    Clayton knew Rear Admiral Erwin Radovic didn''t have to be told who them was. He''d known when to keep his mouth shut as a young lieutenant and since eight years he was part of the first diplomatic corps the Terran Federation had really needed for over five centuries.


    "But they never demanded that we only send traders there. That''s a decision we made."


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    "That''s a decision we made because we know what makes the newscasters tick," Clayton retorted sharply. "They''ll never be able to hold to the agreement we made about knowledge, and you know what happens if we''re blamed for breaking that deal."


    Erwin slumped. "So, what are you going to do?"


    "I''ll send in a group to bring him home before we have an entire news team lose on that planet."


    "You mean to strip Theta 47?"


    "No, I''ll take one group from Gatekeeper."


    "We have a translator there?"


    "No. I''ll provide them with a recorded message."


    "Can''t we just stop her from going through the gate?"


    "No, the government can''t be seen to break the laws. There''s nothing forbidding anyone from traveling there as long as they can guarantee their way back."


    "What?"


    "It gets worse. On the other side anything goes. Formally it''s not Federation space. Only the implied threat of losing all major contracts have kept corporations out."


    Erwin sat down beside Clayton. The day had begun with bad news, and Clayton knew he was rapidly making it worse for the young admiral. If humanity was blamed for breaking the deal they would close the Gate.


    "It''s a dirty thing to do to a man who''s lost as much as he''s done," Erwin said.


    "I know," Clayton muttered. "But he was the only one with the guts to make use of my report after our insanity." Clayton sighed. ¡±Damn! I''ll never be able to prove it, but if Arthur Wallman hadn''t run his Otherworld Disclosed we could still have suffered a bloody military coup. He had the guts and after what happened to him, I don''t dare to have him running around on Otherworld." Clayton stared unhappily into the air. "Especially not after what happened to him," he whispered.

 Chapter three, Change of Plans, part one

    After the memorable trading session Arthur became something of a celebrity among the local merchants. He also gained a lot of respect among his traveling companions, enough to be seen as a fellow trader.


    During the three months on the ship he''d been looked upon with a mixture of awe and distrust by the other traders. Creating a new market and making a fortune at the same time changed that.


    In ten years of trading no one had thought of selling anything but the metal wanted here. That would change when news returned back to Earth. Well, it was only to be expected. Even leaving his old life behind him he was news in the making.


    The days took on a routine of their own with Harbend already waiting in Arthur''s living room when he woke but never sharing his breakfast. After that they''d go out and Harbend showed him various parts of the city.


    This day started no differently and by midmorning they sauntered past a peculiar building displaying an enormous entrance but almost no windows. The first three floors were made of the smooth, white stone Arthur had come to expect, but above that another two wooden stories rose, and he could see they were recently added.


    He crossed the street passing nimbly between coaches running in both directions. Coming to the sidewalk Arthur peered across the street to get a better view of the strange building.


    "Splendid construction, eh?" Harbend said, coming up to his side.


    "You know what it is?"


    "Theater. The finest there is. They change the top floors for each play. Something to do with decor, but I would not know. Never been into the business myself. Have you?"


    Arthur basked in the thoughts of immersing himself in the fantasies created by an author from another world and didn''t listen to Harbend''s last question.


    "Have you?" he repeated.


    "Oh, not really. Yes, in a way, but not with a famous script, or no, that''s not entirely true. I''ve never been part of an ensemble or had a major role in a play if that''s what you ask."


    Harbend gave him a surprised stare in return. He apparently hadn''t expected such an elaborate answer. "I could get us an invitation."


    "Yes, yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you, please, if it''s possible."


    "You do realize you probably shall fail to understand the play?"


    "I know. It doesn''t matter," Arthur answered, still spellbound by the opportunity of being part of an audience rather than standing in the limelight.


    #


    They spent most of the day obtaining clothes more suitable for a visit to the theater. That meant Harbend leading Arthur to different tailors, leaving him with the instructions to say nothing and move whatever body parts the tailor wanted moved, while running away on errands of his own.


    When Arthur was left to the all too personal manhandling by the fifth tailor in quick succession his temper began to turn ugly, and he forced Harbend, when he finally returned, to explain what was going on.


    "They are tailors. Unlike you outworlders we do not have warehouses where prospective customers can wander in and choose some clothes never fitting properly anyway."


    "I understand that," Arthur responded testily and tried to pretend he didn''t feel the hands taking measures of his legs. "But why do you have to drag me around half the city like this?"


    Harbend stared back in surprise. "I told you magic is banned in Keen."


    Arthur didn''t understand. "So?" The hands neared his crotch and he barely avoided a twitch.


    "Gods! You want me to bring you to the theater this evening. As a trader you of anyone ought to be familiar with the logistical phenomena of production time."


    Understanding finally dawned on Arthur. "And they each make one piece?"


    Harbend declined to answer the question.


    #


    Harbend led his client through a maze of narrow streets. He had one last errand to finish before he could devote himself to preparing Arthur for the evening.


    They cut through the southern parts of Verd choosing a route he''d never shown Arthur before, and there was good reason for it Harbend thought grimly. Magical wonder of the world or not, the city still had its poor majority. Right from the planning of it, thousands of years earlier an emperor, more practical than idealistic, had ordered it built with just that in mind.


    The few boulevards here were not laid out for beauty but to contain fires should they occur. The streets between them were narrow and crowded with loudmouthed, uncouth people, animals and the occasional cart, all smelly and all dirty. The very buildings were darker, gray rather than the granite red and marble white that was the hallmark of the capital. The streets themselves were flawlessly clean though. This was Verd after all.


    Harbend recalled Nachi, his own faraway capital. Larger than Verd and with access to several of the finest magehealers Khi had educated. Dirt everywhere despite a huge workforce employed to transport the unwanted garbage out of the city, dumping it on stinking piles burning perpetually.


    No matter how many magehealers made their living there death tolls from diseases were always greater than what he''d seen in Verd during his years here. Only the rich lived longer in Khi, but then Verd had no magehealers to ease the dangers of advanced age.


    Eventually he dragged a bewildered Arthur from yet another narrow street to the open place just inside the southern gates. Krante Gates, referring to a large town an eightdays days ride or so to the southeast, attributing more of its fame to legend than any advantageous attractions it had to offer now.


    Farmers were bringing in their wares through the gates. Mostly food of different kinds but also bales of linen, leather and wood that would eventually find their way to craftsmen who would turn it into clothes, shoes, furniture and a mass of other items to be sold here.


    A squadron of the Holy Inquisition in red and black made their way through the gates cheered on by children staring wide eyed at the display, and a larger infantry unit, all in yellow, waited for their turn to march in the opposite direction.


    The regiments prepared to vacate the exercise grounds south of the gates, and soon the last of the soldiers would be sent out to help with harvesting, infantry and cavalry alike.


    Stables west of the gates, the only buildings almost perpetually dirty despite the magic of Verd, waited for the only eightdays during the year when they were clean and used as storage in preparation for the great market marking the end of summer. With only Inquisition troops and the Imperial Guard left in the city it would take on an almost unnatural absence of uniforms.


    Arthur trailing his steps Harbend walked straight to the enclosed area where every visitor was searched for magic and followed the road to the outer gates. One of the few places where he wasn''t pestered by peddlers wanting to make a customer of him. As always during daytime the gates were open and he passed under the archway and started searching for the female courier he knew would be waiting. Ah, there she was. He ran between a few carts to meet her and gave her a small package.


    "To Hasselden as usual. It should cover their expenses the coming three eightdays. Send my best wishes."


    "As you command, sir." She turned her horse and rode down the road.


    Harbend stared after her as she headed for the western leg of the highway. With the money he made from selling Arthur''s books maybe, just maybe he''d be able to send enough to last half a year rather than a few eightdays.


    He''d have abandoned his office in Hasselden years earlier, but honor demanded otherwise. Winter storms forcing prey close enough to the coast for sea hunters to catch made it possible to keep it. The tender meat alone covered much of the expenses of a business no longer visited by traders from Khi. Much, but far from all.


    "Now, my dear Arthur, we should have the rest of the day to ourselves," he said turning to his client who, he knew, by now was building up his frustration again. "For my store in Hasselden, and my employees running it for me."


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    "I see," Arthur said, and Harbend noted how the mounting frustration was gone in an instant.


    Good man, he thought. The outworlder obviously knows the importance of taking care of his own.


    Harbend made to return through the gates and caught himself smiling. "Arthur, I thank you for your patience. You must be starving. Let me show you the difference between a tavern and a restaurant, with you searching for dining halls early in the mornings and all."


    Arthur''s stomach rumbled in agreement and they were about to return when he pointed. "What''s that?"


    Harbend peered at the construction above the gates. Enormous square frames draped with cloth, linen he knew, painted either black or yellow. "That is the farwriter."


    "Farwriter? Sounds familiar." Arthur squinted as he looked up in the air. "Oh, it''s a telegraph!"


    "Telegraph?" Now it was Harbend''s turn to be confused.


    "Same word, different origin. Telegraph is the correct one though," Arthur explained.


    Harbend digested this as they watched one set of frames being taken down while another was winched up, displaying a different pattern of yellow and black.


    Arthur slowly turned, but Harbend, anticipating it, stopped him.


    "No idea." Harbend grinned. "You need to be standing on the battlements, and you need a..." He searched for the word, "a televiewer."


    "Telescope." Arthur laughed suddenly. "Far seer! Well why not? Makes sense I guess. Now, Harbend, my stomach and I would very much like to see this restaurant of yours. How far is it?"


    "Some one hundred lamps or so."


    "Lamps?"


    "Yes... oh sorry. Local measurement of distance. Took me a while to get used to as well. All lamp posts are placed at equal distance along roads and streets."


    "I see," Arthur said and started examining two nearby lampposts.


    "One lamp should be around forty or fifty of your meters," Harbend answered the unspoken question. "Too long for a hungry walk anyway. I shall get us a coach."


    Well inside the gates they started for the main boulevard when Harbend was suddenly pushed aside. He staggered and when he found his balance again he stared into the face of an officer in the yellow and green of the Free Inquisition. He was about to retrace his steps when the man grabbed his shirt and pulled him close.


    "Watch where you go you bastard!" the officer growled.


    Harbend tried to pull free, but to no avail.


    "Not so brave are you now?" another soldier laughed. "Should have stayed home in Khi where you don''t trouble decent people."


    "And the meaning of this outrage?" Harbend asked hiding the mixture of anger and fear rising within.


    "No need we have of magic loving whores your kind thief of food from starving children," a third answered, accent and grammar declaring him a former citizen of magic loving Ira.


    The most dangerous kind. Anger gave way and left fear as uncontested ruler of his mind. Outcasts turned fanatics were always welcome to join the Free Inquisition, and here he was surrounded by the very unit Arthur had humiliated at the sky port.


    "... devil take them or I''ll start breaking arms," Arthur''s voice shot in and the sudden need to translate the meaning of outworlder words snapped Harbend out of his rising panic.


    "Just angry soldiers," he said. Relief flooded him as he recognized the protection of Arthur''s presence, then only stunned disbelief as the soldier from Ira drew and attacked the outworlder trader. Time slowed as he watched the saber descending.


    No sound, no smell, only a bitter taste of metal in his mouth, and then Arthur sliding towards the soldier in a fluid motion ending only when he was too close for the bladed weapon to be of any use. Grabbing the sword arm with both hands Arthur twisted, forced the soldier up, around and down in a vicious circle ending with an ugly, meaty sound as he came crashing down on the street face first.


    There was silence.


    Arthur continued moving across the prone body.


    Silence gave way to a horrible, cracking sound as he forced the arm over the back of the soldier, and then only a shrill scream of pain.


    Time returned to normal.


    "Oh, sorry, didn''t mean that," Arthur gasped as the arm fell limply to the ground, sword clattering out of reach.


    Oh, he just lost balance, understanding dawned on Harbend, and then used the arm as leverage to avoid falling over. Harbend had wondered, and now he was gratefully convinced that the rich and mighty of the outworlders received at least some proper training befitting men of their station.


    He stared at the fallen soldier, numbly noticing the Staff master doing the same, and in the meantime a crowd slowly gathered.


    "Go! This is a matter for the Inquisition," the officer ordered.


    The crowd, more fascinated than afraid, slowly started to disperse.


    Bad, very bad! They pretend we''re mages and we''re in trouble.


    "Halt!" A different voice this time.


    "Go screw your horse!" the Staff master responded.


    Harbend dared turning. A staff displaying the winged swords of mounted infantry rose into the air. Dragoons, only found in Keen, and with harvest festival only eightdays away Harbend didn''t need to identify the insignia to recognize the presence of the Imperial Guard.


    "I''ll confer those words to the council, no, better yet, you shall do so," the newcomer said, and now Harbend could see a graying officer riding up beside the standard bearer. "Escort our uniformed guests to the gate."


    A growling murmur of laughter followed by the clattering of hooves announced more soldiers making ready to obey the order to round up Inquisition troops. There was no love between Imperial Guard and Free Inquisition -- only the Holy Inquisition held their foreign counterpart more openly in contempt.


    Harbend let out a long sigh accepting that they were safe.


    "Any witnesses?" the officer demanded, and at that the crowd melted away. No one was interested in wasting half a day waiting for a questioning.


    "I saw what happened," someone shouted from behind the horses.


    And of course the singular idiot to prove you wrong, Harbend mused. He raised his face to his rescuer, but the graying officer was searching for whoever had volunteered.


    "Oh, you." Turning his stare back to Harbend the officer smiled thinly. "You should leave unless you have a statement to bring before the council."


    Harbend blinked. The officer didn''t move. Unwilling to push his luck Harbend grabbed Arthur''s arm and led the bewildered trader in search of a public coach.

 Chapter three, Change of Plans, part two

    Arthur recognized the uniformed monkeys from the day of his arrival, but accustomed to long years of benefits given to the famous he paid little heed to the twist of fortune allowing them to leave a scene of violence in which he''d taken part. He did expect Harbend to explain or explode, but as the merchant declined to do either during their ride to the restaurant Arthur decided to leave the episode in silence as well, and it wasn''t long until they reached their destination.


    Whatever he''d expected this wasn''t it. Deeply hidden among great villas in the far northwest of Verd, where the very rich lived, a building crouched in a tree covered garden.


    Walking nearer he saw that the trees closest to the walls were no trees at all but the work of artisans of almost unimaginable skills. Fastened to the branches, high above them and hugging the trunk of each tree a small brown, wooden cottage with thatched roof seemed to grow as part of the tree itself. Slender bridges of what looked like crystal connected the cottages to an open platform on the roof of the main building, almost like a terrace, but Arthur couldn''t see much of it from where he stood on the pathway.


    He smiled in wonder and was still smiling as they entered the building.


    #


    Harbend had always enjoyed coming here from the very first time he was invited years earlier. Not only was it quaint in extreme but the artificial seclusion also allowed him to forget the noisy city for an afternoon, and this one had been busier than he cared for.


    Grateful that the partial immunity clinging to the outworlders had extended to himself this time he wanted to celebrate his luck in style. He intended to show Arthur how civilized men enjoyed their meals.


    Even though they had certainly eaten together the past few days they still had never dined together. He''d been forced to watch Arthur simply approach the nearest stand selling roast fowl, or meat and once even a bland soup. Harbend, unwilling to let his client look like a fool, then had to buy himself something as well and eat it standing on the sidewalk like a simple laborer.


    They chose the westernmost tree cottage he preferred and entered its single room, a table already laid with sweet fruit, chilled water and thin crisps of white bread awaited them.


    The cottages were of different size. One large enough to host ten diners, but most built to accommodate four. The walls surrounding them glimmered with blue and green as if they were sitting in an open forest a summer day. Whatever magic magecrafters had wrought here all those years ago before they were banned still worked its charm making him feel genuinely welcome and wanted.


    Arthur stared in amazement and Harbend enjoyed the childlike happiness sparkling in his eyes. If Arthur was so easily moved by simply coming here there was little doubt he would be thoroughly happy when they had eaten.


    They ate their dinner in silence broken only by the muted sounds of steps when a servant brought in a new course, and this was repeated two more times. At the end only Harbend, who knew what to expect, had enough of an appetite left to truly give the last course justice.


    "This is better than street food, eh?" he said when the last of their platters was finally carried out. They were left with a crystal goblet each and one bottle of red wine, a vintage Harbend had chosen carefully.


    "Heaven!" Arthur sighed. Childish happiness spread over his face, and suddenly the outworlder looked twenty years younger.


    "Truly, I cannot abide by the things you have had the misfortune to mistake for a proper meal. You have a stomach like a millstone."


    Arthur, apparently misunderstanding the friendly barb, got serious at once. "We have magic of our own where I come from. At least I believe the field of medicine we call genetics would be like magic to you. I could probably digest anything short of a synthetic poison with little ill effects."


    Harbend carefully analyzed what he had just heard. "Do not explain this genetics of yours. I will probably fail to understand. However, what does synthetic mean?"


    Arthur looked back, smiled and explained. "By the way, I expected to see more people with swords, other than the soldiers that is."


    Harbend frowned at the memory of their encounter with the Inquisition. Well, it wouldn''t do lingering. "You all say that when you come here the first time. I fail to understand where you got the notion." Harbend raised an open palm to indicate peace. "No civilized city allows everyone to carry weapons. Brawls would get dirty. Only soldiers are allowed to have them. Now, what constitutes as soldiers may vary between cities, of course."


    Arthur seemed to be content with the answer. He merely sipped more of his wine to allow Harbend the next question.


    Harbend grabbed the opportunity. "Now, something I should have asked the first outworlder trader I represented. Your days are shorter than ours I have heard. Is that not a problem for you, or is it solved by this genetics of yours?"


    Arthur laughed and put down his goblet on the table. "Interesting idea, but I''m afraid the answer is far simpler." He looked thoughtful for a while. "It takes many, eh, eightdays, to journey here. The ship has no windows so all light inside is artificial. During the journey from Earth to here they make each day a little bit longer than the previous."


    "I should have guessed." How elegantly simple. "Almost a pity it was not one of your technological wonders though."


    They spent the rest of the afternoon there, comparing notes about things unimportant, both of them carefully avoiding any topic of potential danger. Neither of them told enough to compromise their positions and both told more than they were aware of, which is the natural way of sharing words in the company of fine wines. When the bottle was empty, and another as well, Harbend ordered a coach and they returned to Two Worlds. He told the driver to wait for Arthur.


    Harbend made sure Arthur''s new clothes had been delivered and went to the closest bathhouse while Arthur prepared himself in privacy.


    #


    The entrance hall was filled with people, all dressed up for the evening, but Arthur didn''t recognize any of them. He was among people without Harbend to translate for him for the first time since his arrival and felt a bit handicapped.


    He had rushed to the theater to enjoy some solitude for a while, but now it didn''t seem such a good idea any longer. The crowded entrance was hardly a place to be alone in. Then he saw a familiar face and pushed his way to the stairs where the man was standing, muttering excuses no one would understand to anyone he pushed aside.


    "Arthur? What a pleasant surprise."


    "I was about to say the same, William," Arthur admitted. "Beginning to feel like an idiot."


    He gave William Anderson a long glance. Like almost all Martians he was tall and thin, as if the lower gravity there made humans soar when they grew. He had taken to wearing local clothes, short, yellow jacket and red trousers both sporting pink details to honor his origins.


    The man was a professional trader, one of the few true adventurers who made a living from trading with Otherworld. Famous enough for Arthur once to dedicate an entire holo show episode to the daredevil''s slightly illicit pursuit of a trading license, and he didn''t know how William would take this attempt at striking up a conversation.


    "Strong legs," Arthur tried, suddenly at a lack for anything else to say. Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth he wished them unsaid.


    Damn, facing a person isn''t always as easy as facing the camera.


    William straightened his blue, silken coat and grinned.


    "Spend most of my time on ships and very little planet side on Mars. Wouldn''t be able to stand Earth otherwise."


    Arthur smiled thinly in response. He didn''t have anything to talk about, and hinting that clumsily at the difference in gravity between Mars and Earth was impolite enough to make him feel like an idiot.


    "Don''t worry. No affront." William chuckled at Arthur''s discomfort. "Feeling alone are we? I''ve been here dozens of times and still feel shut out."


    "You tell me," Arthur agreed recalling the days that had passed. "How much of their language do you understand?"


    "Very little. Enough to make myself understood and to get a general feeling about what they''re talking about, but not much more." William moved aside to allow an old man in blue and green to climb the stairs.


    Arthur thought about what William had said. Harbend was always there to translate, and only Arthur''s interest in anything having to do with language made him pick up bits here and there. He looked at William only to meet a wide grin.


    "You''re a fast one, aren''t you?" William said. "Can almost see the wheels spinning in your head. Wasn''t until my fifth visit here I understood they''re deliberately keeping us away from other people." He raised a glass of wine, sipped a little and continued: "Yes, we''re led around and meet people, but the merchants here do all the talking for us."


    "That''s bloody awful!"


    "That''s sound," William retorted flatly. "This way they control our movements and if we stray we can''t communicate with anyone anyway. That''s the real reason we can''t bring any communicators here, or at least the result of that ban."


    Arthur looked at the man with new respect. There was something still untold.


    "But you''ve found a way around it?"


    "Sure as hell I have." William laughed. "To begin with I never ask for a specific house. That way I''ll be represented by different people every time I''m here."


    "Why would you want that?" Arthur wondered.


    A liveried servant passed with a platter containing dried fruit and Arthur mutely accepted one and sent the woman away with a nod.


    "Because then they won''t learn my habits." William paused to swallow the piece he''d grabbed for himself. "Always hire an extra translator who doesn''t belong to any of the trading houses here, and I intend to keep that a secret for as long as I can."


    "How''s that possible?"


    "Merchants are not omniscient. May seem so to us, but they''re not. Keen has a system of houses for all kinds of business. One for making weapons, one for writing and printing books and so on."


    "Guilds."


    "Guess you could call them that. I''m a trader, not a historian. Word''s familiar to me, but it''s ancient history anyway."


    Arthur laughed. "Important history for the likes of us, but I won''t pursue the matter any further."


    William gave him a quizzical look and shrugged. "Whatever. Anyway, there''s a money trader''s house, or there has to be more than one, but one I know of. They''re not part of the trading houses but run their own internal system." William made as if to let Arthur squeeze in a question.


    "Go on, I''m listening."


    "Very well. As such they''re cut off from any direct contact with us. At least they were until I lucked out and got in contact with one of them." William paused and looked thoughtful. "I''ve got the gold and silver they''re interested in and they''ve got the alternative source of information I''m interested in. Don''t think they''ll sell me out."


    Arthur pondered the information for a while and shook William''s hands. "I''d very much enjoy your company at a later day as well. I''ve been shown a truly marvelous restaurant and if you wish we could dine there later."


    "Take it your Harbend''s arriving here now." William nodded at the entrance and Arthur looked over his own shoulder.


    "You''re correct. I live at Two Worlds. You can reach me there. I suspect you''d prefer not to be recognized by Harbend here."


    William grinned in agreement, returned Arthur''s handshake and climbed the stairs leaving Arthur to his own thoughts. He strode to the entrance with a newborn awareness and met Harbend just inside the great doors.


    "There you are, Arthur. I hope the waiting was not too tedious for you," Harbend greeted him. "There are some people here I absolutely must introduce you to," he continued and led Arthur away to an elderly couple standing by a marble statue at the edge of a small fountain.


    Arthur followed him and enjoyed the charade with new eyes.


    #


    Halfway into the play the motions of the actors stirred memories in him, and Arthur stumbled from their loge muttering a lie about an intensive headache caused by too much sunshine.


    He found a corner where he could hide, racking in sobs. When his head cleared a little, and he was able to lock the emotions inside him again, he found the small fountain he''d seen in the foyer. It took him another few minutes to wash his face and when he returned the play was almost over.


    Harbend said nothing except expressing his sympathy for Arthur''s bad luck and hastily added some polite nonsense about the dangers of having a cold bath after a warm day. It was all too evident that Harbend suspected something but was also too well-mannered to say anything about it, and they both spent an awkward time waiting for the play to finish.


    They left quickly, only pausing to allow Harbend to exchange polite words with some dignitaries interested in the presence of an outworlder and parted ways at Arthur''s hotel.


    #


    The following morning when Harbend, true to their morning ritual, suggested a visit to the battlements, Arthur, remembering his conversation with William the night before, feigned tiredness and received Harbend''s best wishes in return. He deliberately made the entire scene as uncomfortable as possible by being uncommonly silent. Playing on Harbend''s obvious unwillingness to dwell on neither the assault nor the failed visit at the theater the previous evening it was all too easy. There wasn''t anything to say, and he watched as Harbend simply closed the door on his way out.


    Arthur had made up his mind and he decided to stroll around Verd on his own to learn more about the city by himself. The tours he''d been given this far had been just a little bit too convenient.


    #


    Harbend opened the door to his small office and called on the main lights. He''d chosen quarters in the western, older parts of the city, and the buildings here showed their heritage by displaying narrow slits rather than the more modern wide windows that allowed more daylight in. The slits were glassed of course. An addition to all old houses several hundreds of years earlier, but one that increased the need for lamps.


    He''d bought several oil lamps in order to be able to work during evenings when the main lights didn''t quite suffice. Late work was a must here where the days grew considerably shorter during winter.


    The rooms were generally smaller in this part of the city as well, designed during an age when defense was more important than luxury. Great wars had raged then, some almost reaching the city itself when it was but a fortified display of power, a provincial capital when Keen was still part of an ancient empire now long gone.


    Harbend used to feel the shadow of that empire looming closer when Hasselden was his center of operations. From there ships could take him to the southern tip of the Ming peninsula in a day or two, and visiting traders sometimes still boasted of Ming Hjil de Vhat and La, the ancient capitals from where emperors had ruled all of the northern world.


    Now all that remained of the twin capitals were an insignificant fishing town to the far north on the peninsula and a mass of haunted ruins on the isthmus, the latter half a day''s ride from a small town usurping the name of the once great city.


    But he wasn''t in Hasselden now. He was standing in his office in Verd, and sounds came from a back room that should have been quiet. He rounded his desk and made his way through the doorway to find out who had intruded on his privacy.


    The sight made his heart jump.


    "Uncle! And Horse-lord Kanir, what a pleasant surprise!" They stared back at him in disdainful incomprehension and he caught himself. Quickly he repeated himself in his native tongue.


    "You have been here long indeed when you greet your family in such a harsh language." The words carried a barb, but Harbend could see the affection shining in his uncle''s eyes. He looked old, but then he''d always seemed old to Harbend. Beardless now, but with long, white hair. He''d become thinner as well since Harbend last saw him.


    Ramdar Garak, Harbend''s uncle, was by far the oldest of three brothers and as such head of their family and therefore responsible for leading the noble line. He already had two married sons securing the continuity of the line.


    The sensation of listening to words spoken in Khi filled Harbend with joy. Years had passed since he last had a chance to hear it.


    "You are right, of course. I apologize most deeply for my bad manners." Harbend bowed, as was expected from him.


    When he rose he saw the horse-lord still keeping his steely gaze. A hard man in his fifties he commanded all cavalry under the noble line of the Garak family, a line Harbend was more than satisfied he wasn''t part of. Vildir Kanir wore the long leather coat coming with his position, and he''d worn it for as long as Harbend could remember. Horse-lord Kanir was large, large the way a predator loomed over its prey before striking, and Harbend assumed he had very little fat hidden under the clothes. There was gray in his black hair now though, and new lines streaked his face. Change came even to this pillar of stability.


    "When did you arrive, and how?" Harbend asked.


    "We sailed for Rhuin. They still keep their coasts clear with the help of Nijan and us, but there we learned that the only way north was by land. We were fortunate enough to buy passage in Ira."


    "Ira?" Harbend drew a mental map. It didn''t make sense. "But the caravan route from there to Kastari takes ages!"


    "We didn''t join a caravan."


    "But how... Oh. But you abhor the jump towers"


    "Yes." The old man smiled. "I was sick for days after we arrived in Chach, but we made a season''s worth of travel in a day." The frown on Ramdar''s face belied his tone of satisfaction. "Then crossing the Narrow Sea," he continued, and Harbend could almost see the worry they must have felt when taking the dangerous sea route with westerners roaming virtually unchecked. "The roads on this side are fantastic so we sold our horses and paid for the use of a truly excellent coach service. From Chach to Verd in less than a moon. I would not have believed it possible had I not traveled the part myself," Ramdar finished, and there was real wonder in the old man''s face.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Harbend already knew about the network of roads so he was more interested in the implications for such a journey.


    "Now I know how you made your way here, but please enlighten me as to why."


    "There is something you ought to know." Ramdar sat down on a bench in the back of the room and Harbend, guessing the news could be nothing but bad, did the same. Only Vildir remained standing.


    "Tell me."


    "We are here on behalf of your father, but there is more to it so I had better start at the beginning. Our family is very large for a minor family, too large, and it has been for the last two generations."


    "I was never told," Harbend said surprised.


    "Deliberately so," Ramdar said. "We are making a bid for full clan status."


    Harbend was mute. He''d expected bad news, maybe even the news of his father''s death, but this piece of information rocked his world.


    "The Rikar family is undermining your father''s economy," Ramdar continued relentlessly.


    That piece of information made sense, painfully so. The noble line of a mere family couldn''t be seen transferring resources to the lesser lines, but a clan failing to help each of its families would lose their clan status.


    "But, uncle, each clan must symbolize something unique, something that breaks with tradition, and we fail to... Oh, no, you are not seriously..."


    "I am very much so. Your father has known all along. That is the reason your restless mind was never disciplined. That is why you have been allowed to play the merchant half a continent away from your home."


    Harbend was too astonished to feel cheated of what he had believed to be the result of his firm determination and not part of an elaborate plan. "What do you expect me to do?" he whispered.


    "When you made your intentions clear I started to read about Keen and how politics work here." Ramdar gave Harbend a warm smile. "You might have forced the issue and traveled here even if I had not found out what I did." Ramdar sighed slowly. "You were always the impatient one, but as it turned out I did find a use for your wishes. I want you to found a trading house."


    "With what funds?" Harbend asked, still far too surprised to be angry. The resentment would come later.


    "Have you not made funds of your own?"


    "Yes, but the last four years have been ghastly. My skills at trading have barely enabled me to pay for my store in Hasselden and my office here. The raiders..."


    "That was bad news, very bad news. I do not accuse you of the western devils'' doing. I know better than that, but you should know your line faces execution should your father go bankrupt."


    Harbend didn''t need telling. He''d studied more of the politics in Khi than his uncle knew. Normally bankruptcy was a disgrace, but for a family making such a bid for power there would be no excuses. Khi had no use for a clan only managing to gain power but failing to wield it wisely. Ramdar had been kind enough not to tell all of it. Harbend''s father and sister would meet the gallows, but not until after every living member of the noble line was hunted down and killed.


    Harbend stared at both of his visitors. He didn''t know what to think. Finally his anger caught up with him and he wondered what had really happened to make Ramdar play the desperate game. Still, loyalty to family overshadowed anything else, and Harbend knew his raging wouldn''t help them. Then an idea formed out of memory, one that would give them a way out while still allowing him a stinging retort.


    "It would seem there are those who think I have overstayed my welcome here, and combined with your journey it gives me an idea. I do not know if it will work, and if it does, our entire family will be indebted to a stranger," he said silently. The smile he kept for himself.


    "That is an unacceptable disgrace and a breach with all our family stands for," Horse-lord Kanir said, breaking his silence for the first time and swallowing Harbend''s bait whole.


    "Yes, that would definitely shine in stark opposition to all our values," Harbend said looking at his uncle. They sat in silence for a while staring at each other and then Ramdar laughed loudly.


    "Gods! You are learning already. Your father has much to be proud of. Now, tell me more about this stranger of yours."


    #


    For the first time in years Harbend locked his office going out. Burglaries were almost unheard of in Keen, but the waiting relatives had him deciding against leaving his home open to anyone who wanted to enter. Making it a habit to leave it locked in the future was an easy way to avoid unnecessary surprises, he thought, coming up to a woman standing behind a cart. Harbend almost passed her by, but driven by a sudden impulse he halted and reversed his steps ending up in front of the woman selling flowers.


    She could have been his own age, maybe a few years older, sun tanned face and hands. She stood on the sidewalk, a pallet behind her for when there were no potential customers in sight, and the cart still half full with flowers of different colors and sizes. This close the mixed scents were overwhelming.


    "Flowers sir?"


    "Yes. Long ones. One red, one blue and one white." He pointed at the flowers he wanted, not knowing their names.


    She looked up and squinted at him. His singing accent gave him away as a foreigner more clearly than his dark complexion. "A girl waiting for you, eh?" she teased, all business again.


    "No, a man."


    She glared disapprovingly at him.


    Harbend stepped aside momentarily to give way for a passing couple. "Where I come from we sometimes buy flowers just to show respect."


    She frowned and squinted at Harbend again. He realized she must be nearsighted.


    "I''m sorry, sir. I shouldn''t have assumed. He a foreigner just like you?" she asked.


    "Yes, yes he is," Harbend said thoughtfully, and without knowing why he bothered telling this stranger on the street, he continued barely audibly: "but most of all he is a very lonely man."


    #


    Arthur sat waiting in the restaurant he''d made his second home. He''d even managed to get a private cottage for two by himself. Most of the words and expressions he knew came from the world of merchants, and the amused response from the servant told him he''d probably tried to buy a room measuring two standard Terran units or something equally hilarious.


    Harbend wanted to meet him here for a purpose that apparently couldn''t wait another day. Otherwise he''d simply have waited for Arthur to finish his breakfast next morning as usual.


    There was a certain appealing touch to the habit of serving diners their meals in separate rooms. Arthur had never thought of it before, being used to the large dining halls on Earth. Of course he knew of the custom, but it was more a local color adding spice to the experience of some regions and most commonly found in Japan, but nowhere as elaborate as here. He hadn''t expected to find a place like this in a surreal version of a fairytale Vienna indefinitely placed somewhere in time a millennium or so earlier.


    He was drumming his fingers on the table when Harbend arrived with a few flowers in his hand. He looked haggard, as if he hadn''t slept well and Arthur worried about what could have changed him so since morning. He was sure to bring some dire news. That, however, to Arthur''s great joy, was not what happened.


    #


    A cool and clear morning greeted him, with the worst of the heatwave abated. During the night rain had put glittering jewels for the morning sun to play on in the streets, and the air was fresher than in days.


    Now Harbend sat in the trading hall waiting for the traditional eightday meeting to start. It had to be done this day. The next meeting would be dedicated to handling any complaints before the outworlder traders departed and to assign those who would represent the traders arriving next.


    Merchants started to arrive, not as many as an eightday earlier, and when the four finally arrived less than half of the places along the walls were occupied.


    "Are there any matters to be resolved involving all of us present today?"


    That was his cue. "I have come here with a request to be accepted as a full house." A low murmur filled the hall and the other merchants looked at each other in apprehension.


    "It''s not often we have the honor to bear witness to the founding of a new house." This time it was the oldest of the four who made his voice heard. "Would the sponsor please step forward?" Now all the merchants present looked around, searching for who among them had agreed to sponsor a foreign merchant''s founding a new house.


    "You are aware that you need a sponsor?" The old man''s voice showed clear surprise at the absence of a sponsor.


    Harbend was the only one anticipating the shadow falling over the doorway and rose. "My sponsor is Arthur Wallman."


    An outcry came from the bench opposing Harbend, and a tall woman, the same age as Harbend rose. "This is an outrage. Everyone knows that only those representing a house may sponsor a new."


    Almost immediately two men rose, one of them resembling a darker version of Harbend and the other ebony skinned with curly hair the color of terracotta. "That is a lie," the latter said.


    "But..." It was clear the woman saw how she was losing ground almost at the onset. "But that was almost a hundred years ago."


    "Are you saying we do not represent a proper trading house each?"


    "No, no of course not."


    Harbend smiled. Thank you for that help. He well knew how two merchant families, one from Khanati and one from Rhuin, had put aside the enmity grown from perpetual wars fought between their countries, and, shocking the merchants of Keen, sponsored each other.


    "Then, Harbend Garak, please proceed." Old Master de Verd again.


    "No! I refuse to see this happen! He''s an outworlder," the woman yelled.


    "You know that the law only requires the sponsor to be a merchant, and Arthur Wallman has indeed sold his wares in this very hall."


    The woman sat down staring sullenly at the black man closer to their four leaders. Then she gave Harbend a dark look and a cunning glimmer reached her eyes.


    "So be it, but by the same law he must personally make it clear that this is what he wishes and that he hasn''t been coerced into the sponsorship."


    Harbend blinked.


    What is she planning now? Then truth dawned on him and he realized that if he as much as said a single word now his request would fall.


    #


    Arthur stood between the lines of benches listening to angry voices bouncing between the walls, desperately trying to catch the meaning of the quarrel. That he was playing a part was clear, even what part. Almost as quickly as the shouting had started it subsided and he turned to Harbend.


    "I hereby make it clear for each and everyone that I will stand as sponsor for Harbend Garak. I also declare that this is of my own wish, and that I intend to pay the fee requested only because I personally want to do so; because it amuses me to play this prank on you." They had agreed upon the last part to make his declaration sound a little more personal.


    He waited for Harbend''s translation but none came.


    What the hell now? No explanation from Harbend who only rigidly stared at the woman who''d started the row. Something was amiss, but what?


    Arthur started sorting through the memories of their planning. Slowly he guessed the reason for the silence in the hall. Only a guess, but it had to do.


    "House de Garak ... Harbend called welcome... Arthur Wallman, I... ," He faltered. "I trade standard unit... buy Harbend de Garak I wish and... wholly satisfied thereby," he continued remembering the phrase used when a deal was struck.


    Damn, I can''t run a good show without knowing the language. Simply doesn''t work that way. Bloody awkward failing to master what I should do best.


    He fell silent. The old man facing him grinned almost exploding with anger. No, not anger. He was laughing so hard he was shaking and Arthur had misunderstood it for wrath.


    #


    Harbend couldn''t believe what he was hearing. The grammar was awful to say the least, and the pronunciation had a strange singing quality as if spoken by someone... He blushed. As if spoken by someone from Khi. The man was a wonder, learning that amount of De Vhatic in a single eightday.


    "You can''t accept that as a formal declaration of sponsorship." The whining voice cut through his thoughts. By all gods unholy! Of course it was the same woman again.


    "I think he made his intent clear." Master de Verd had turned on his feet and was now facing the female merchant.


    "But, Master de Verd, he clearly has no idea of what he''s saying. They must have repeated this earlier." The dismay was clearly showing in her eyes.


    "I believe that may be true, but he was clear enough that even I could hear him naming the new house. I''m certain he understood what he was saying, and I refuse to believe they deliberately rehearsed that horrible parody of our language."


    "But..."


    "That will be quite enough!" He turned to Harbend. "Now, Harbend de Garak, I advise you not to show the declaration of your house to other than those you trust with your embarrassment. The law is clear. As your sponsorship was spoken so shall it be written. Let it be clear for all who come after us to know at what time, in what manner and with whom present your house came to be. We welcome House de Garak to our ranks."


    Harbend groaned. Master merchant Glarien de Verd could hardly have twisted the knife harder than he did by ending the matter in the traditional high ceremony, but still, it was done. He was representing a trading house. He was Harbend de Garak.


    He glared at the master merchant and received an amused stare in return. Almost giddy with relief he hardly noticed Arthur walking to the center of the wooden part of the floor.


    While Arthur paid the insane amount of money required of a sponsor Harbend eagerly waited for the finishing question that procedure required. As if teasing him Master de Verd made a show of displaying a benign interest in Arthur''s growing stack of jewelry, silver and gold.


    "Well, Master de Garak, most recent of our houses. Each new house must show in deed as well as intention why we should not revoke the title granted. Even though I''m personally inclined to think you''ve already done so..." He was interrupted by a growl coming from the woman he ordered silent earlier and disarmed her with a smile that made several of the gathered merchants laugh.


    "Oh well, I had to try, didn''t I?" she exclaimed dramatically and joined the laughter even though it was clear to them all how forced it sounded.


    "So, what are your plans for making a lasting impression among the trading houses of Keen?" Master de Verd said. "Other than what you have already done," he added, drawing further laughter from the seated merchants in the hall.


    "Master de Verd. Considering the impact the western raiders have on trade I mean to reinvent methods normally found lacking in efficiency," Harbend answered trying to keep his voice level.


    "Would you care to elaborate?"


    "I will reopen the old caravan route between Erkateren and Braka."


    A murmur of surprise greeted him.


    "While I agree your proposal is sound at the present time when we''re virtually cut off from that source of metal, the cost for setting up the first caravan seems, how shall I put it, somewhat steep. How could you possibly raise the funds needed?


    "The funding for this venture is already secure. Let me introduce you to my partner, Arthur Wallman."


    This time the murmur only displayed appreciation. The source of money needed had been clear all the time, but they wanted confirmation and now it was given.


    "What''s up?" Arthur asked when he heard his name mentioned.


    "They just wanted me to confirm the means necessary for the caravan."


    "Ah, yes. Tell them that their consternation is all I sought. Amusement has a value, and that''s all the profit I crave."


    Harbend translated. He was rewarded with a chorus of guffaws and clapping hands.


    "Well spoken. The arrogance and airs of a true merchant among equals. He''ll do well," was the finishing response from Master de Verd before the merchants present rose to greet their newest member.


    Harbend slowly realized that he''d been accepted formally as well as emotionally, and Arthur had carried the key to open a door Harbend expected to stay closed for years to come.

 Intermezzo

    An idyllic path on the Baltic island of Gotland saw Christina Ulfsdotir walking with three men and a woman trailing her steps. Usually Christina was an uncommonly beautiful woman with her fifty years barely showing. A lithe body and a developed taste for expensive clothes combined with a sunburned, freckled face usually radiating youthful innocence normally made her a very pleasant acquaintance.


    Beautiful, though, was hardly what came to mind whenever one met her the last months and they didn''t need to see her face to know she was fuming with rage. Shoulders raised high and neck rigidly erect she could as well have roared at them. They also knew she was far more dangerous silent than when she aired her wrath.


    "Report!" she finally said, never turning around.


    Her four followers all hesitated until one of the men decided her command was aimed at him.


    "TF officials know we''re chartering a ship and they should know that we''ll be able to launch within two months."


    "Less if I have anything to say about it."


    Christina turned to face the African woman who''d spoken last. "And how much earlier if I may ask?"


    "Five to six weeks."


    "Good, that should give them something to think about. The nerve! The God damned nerve!"


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    Her four followers knew she wasn''t referring to government officials any longer.


    "How the fuck did he dare selling to Red News?" she continued. "That he didn''t get the first lesson is one thing, but the second should bloody well have made its mark! How the hell does he dare selling out to the fucking incompetents in their pink little rat hole and then just take off like a dandy tourist!"


    No one answered.


    "Jessica, you take care of the diversion. We may still need it if the sucker manages to pull some other surprise from his sleeves."


    "Diversion, Madame?" the man who''d spoken first asked.


    "Christ! I really have to spell it out to you my dear little naive Chairman of the Board, don''t I? The Terran Federation government may all be rosy faced dreamers, but they have people who aren''t idiots. I want them to concentrate on our ship while the real business is taken care of."


    She gave the man a false smile. He was a caring darling and very competent when it came to handling business within the confining bonds of law. It was time he started to learn something about reality.


    "I''ve already sent three from Gatekeeper to solve the problem. They should land there in about two weeks."

 Chapter four, Departure, part one

    During the days that followed Arthur was left to his own means most of the time. He dined with William on two occasions and made certain to meet with a few of the other traders from Earth. Questioned about his sponsorship he simply told them one half of the truth. He could make more money by making his money work for him. Another deed breaking with custom, he knew. It would be months rather than years before Terran traders started sponsoring each other, but that was hardly his problem.


    He used William''s help to set up a totally different kind of business. William was more than helpful for all the wrong reasons and Arthur decided not to disclose the entire truth. He knew he was playing a dirty trick on Harbend when he hired a translator in secrecy.


    Day by day, after Harbend had left to cover a day''s worth of errands in preparation of his venture, Arthur stole out to meet his new contact. There had been preciously little time to plan what he had in mind, but within hours discreet spies reported what Harbend was doing and Arthur copied the actions as best as he could.


    He was being used by everyone he hired, paying double or even triple the amount of money he should for the services he bought. It mattered little at the moment. Gambling that his position as an outworlder would protect him from anything more sinister than a scam, Arthur poured out coins making sure those receiving the excesses never learned that what they stole from him was less than what he had sometimes spent during a single day on Earth.


    In two weeks he would have been forced to go back, but then Harbend''s problems arrived like a gift from heaven. When that day arrived Arthur intended to be missing, and Harbend, even though he knew nothing about it now, would have much more of a trading partner than he had bartered for.


    The frenzied activities served another purpose as well, one Arthur avoided thinking about. The days were always better than the nights. The days carried small problems he could solve rather than the nightmares he could but endure while he slept.


    He even managed to set up a kind of bank account with one of the money houses making business with the traders'' hall. It had been touch and go a couple of times, but his experience from long years of buying expensive services paid off, and even though he never knew if he was overplaying his part of a haughty outworlder trader he was secure that neither did his counterparts.


    Less than a week after he started his underhand affairs reports told him that Harbend apparently was finished. Arthur promptly paid his hirelings off and booked a room for two in the excellent restaurant he by then paid a daily visit to. Harbend at least deserved to get the dismaying news in a stylish environment with a precious bounty of gorgeous food to cushion the strike.


    On his way out from the hotel Arthur paid a messenger to run with a request for the meeting and briskly proceeded down the streets whistling happily to himself. He paid no attention to other pedestrians giving him surprised looks when he passed them by, leaving the unfamiliar tune like a whiff of perfume behind him. It might have been unfamiliar to them but it was immediately recognized by a majority of the fifteen billion populating the Terran sphere of influence as the theme framing all of his Golden Secrets shows, and Arthur only saw it as fitting on his way to a meeting where he would indeed disclose a golden secret.


    The day was pleasant. Summer giving way to early autumn and not even the hours around noon were uncomfortably hot now. Feeling a bit lightheaded he picked up speed. He raced along a shortcut he''d found the day before and bumped into a group of children playing precariously close to the busy street. He excused himself but they didn''t answer and scurried away shrieking with delight.


    Suddenly suspicious he looked down and saw he was lacking his purse. That was the second time since he''d started to wear local clothes pickpockets had made away with his money.


    He never thought of using the small handgun all traders were now equipped with after an especially ugly mugging several years earlier. He felt uncomfortable carrying a weapon among people, and like most traders he usually left it in his room.


    It didn''t matter as he only kept several copper and a few silver coins, matching the looks of his expensive outfit, in the purse he had dangling at his waist. Most locals carried the coins called shields, valuable enough for most casual transactions, in such purses. Arthur had a waistband where he kept most of his silver shields and all the gold marks he decided to bring.


    He slowed his pace and started searching for a shop that could fill his needs. A few blocks along the street he found what he was looking for and purchased one velvet and one leather pouch to have a spare one.


    The conversation with the shopkeeper was awkward to say the least, but with broken De Vhatic, shrugs, smiles and a lot of pointing he made his wishes known. He pocketed the leather pouch, dropped a few coins into the other and tied it to his belt. Hopefully he wouldn''t run into another gang of pickpockets in the course one day, but nevertheless he felt a bit uneasy having more silver than copper hanging by his side. The real danger, he had been told, lay not in losing a few coins, but rather in loosing coins of too high a denomination. That could turn a cutpurse into a mugger.


    Unfortunately there were no money traders in the part of Verd he was in so he decided to take his chances and he sauntered away in the general direction of the restaurant.


    #


    Colonel Trindai de Laiden sat slouched in a chair, posture belying his station in the imperial army. After twenty years of active service in the assault cavalry he had advanced to the lofty rank where he only gave orders to his desk and the papers cluttering it. Two inconvenient secrets disclosed and a demotion from general to colonel later he was, to his own immense relief, transferred to a special command.


    Now he took orders from Madame de Felder, Keen''s spy master, holding a position where he could do a real soldier''s work. One, he admitted to himself, from which he no longer undermined other operations where too many prying eyes could see the flaws he pointed out. All in all a very satisfying solution to a shared problem.


    He was clad in worn leathers revealing nothing of who employed him.


    "... volunteers are reassigned?"


    Trindai smiled. "Yes, the Feeble Incompetents are indeed reassigned." He put on the airs of a green recruit. "Being but a lawful citizen of Keen I dutifully reported what I witnessed at Krante Gates."


    Mairild de Felder glared at him and he returned the favor with a growl.


    "General de Markand had the idiots transferred to do their holy duty hunting practitioners of the forbidden arts along the coast south of Hasselden," Trindai ended the report.


    Madame de Felder winced. "They''ll encounter problems operating outside of our jurisdiction."


    "They''ll encounter swift and certain death at the hands of the raiders," Trindai added mirthlessly. "Just as you would have it. This way it''s a military matter. No traces will lead back here."


    He watched the older woman''s tight smile. Where he was a soldier she was a predator, expertly equipped for the underhand machinations he disliked. Disliked but acknowledged the need for. Keen needed both kinds, as she needed craftsmen, scholars, farmers and traders.


    Rigid adherence to ideals left nations open to scavengers. Like poor Chach that was torn apart by factions commanding enough swords to temporarily gain control of a county or two only to have that power wrested from them a generation later.


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    He even suspected she employed wielders of the forbidden arts whenever need was great enough, but as long as no one openly displayed the use of magic within the borders of Keen he was satisfied.


    "The sky port?" she asked.


    "Will be guarded by the Holy Inquisition henceforth," Trindai answered. "De Markand made it clear he wouldn''t risk de Saiden''s reputation by having that piss poor excuse for a military unit endangering our relations with the outworlders."


    "Good. With that matter closed we''ll proceed with the next item."


    Trindai let go of his posture of tired disinterest. Now they were finally approaching the real reason for his presence. "Yes?"


    "How soon can you have your men ready?" Madame de Felder asked making ready with pen and paper to jot down information and orders.


    "Within a day, apart from Major Berdaler''s squadron around Roadbreak." Trindai summed up the number of relays in his head. "With the use of the farwriter and another two days for rounding up the men, ah, four days before he can act on orders I send him."


    "Excellent! He''s to ride to Ri Nachi and escort traders to Braka."


    Trindai smiled as the glimmer of interest grew to anticipation. "Ri Nachi is almost a season''s travel from here, not to speak of Braka. May I ask for the reason?"


    "More than that," de Felder answered. "You''ll have a field command again," she added, giving him what he had hoped for. "An independent merchant has been sponsored into a full house. His name is Harbend de Garak, and he''s reopening the land route to Braka for trade."


    "Sounds expensive," Trindai thought aloud. "Especially if you plan to use my full command as escort."


    "It is, and I am," she responded affirmatively, but there was a tired quality to her voice that had him worried.


    He shot her a quizzical look.


    "Look, harvest''s been decent. Better than decent, but that still doesn''t make the raiders go away."


    Trindai waited patiently. Madame de Felder sometimes explained her reasons when all but the best of officers would have stayed silent.


    "House de Garak is setting up a major caravan. With luck he might even squeeze a profit out of it, but as far as Keen is concerned it''s nothing but grand theater."


    "Yes?" Trindai said no longer certain he wanted to know.


    "We desperately need that show. At the end of the festival I''ll have a pompous declaration made to enforce the impression that Keen knows how to take matters in hand." She offered him a harried expression.


    "Or else?"


    "Or else you and de Markand along with most of our senior staff will be commanding troops against our own within the year. The Ministry of War as well as the Ministry of Commerce gives us two years, three at most, before the border provinces starts revolting."


    Darkness! "I have the utmost respect for Olvar de Saiden, but the greedy bastards in commerce, well..."


    "I''ve had the estimations confirmed by, let''s call it external sources," de Felder countered.


    When the need is great enough, Trindai thought, and for the first time in years he was discomforted by the fear of the unknown. Still, there was a part to play he knew well enough. He rose. "I take it you''ve arranged for the guaranteed absence of any mercenaries apart from my men," he muttered as he left in order to gather his men.


    Madame de Felder nodded. The silence was only broken by the ringing of his heeled riding boots on marble floor as he marched out.


    #


    Harbend knew he was being followed. He hadn''t, for a day or so, but after Ramdar insisted that Vildir help with the acquisitions of weapons and traveling gear it hadn''t taken long before the horse-lord pointed out a number of customers who seemed strangely out of place. Some of them were very good, not only copying the motions of buying wares but paying and leaving with the chosen items as well.


    Harbend suspected they had both missed some of their watchers, but Vildir assured him there was nothing truly dangerous about the situation, and after a couple of days Harbend dismissed it all as an irritating method one of the other houses employed in order to check his whereabouts.


    In the end he bought a crossbow, two quivers filled with quarrels to go with it and a rapier, the closest he would get to the slender swords favored in Khi. A leather jerkin was all he would carry as armor.


    When it came to choosing riding gear and equipment for spending long periods of time outdoors Harbend bowed to Vildir''s superior experience. Axes, knifes, sharpening stones, fire starters in waterproof containers, a large tarpaulin and, of all things, a large bell filled the list of essentials. A multitude of other items Harbend was more familiar with were added and lastly Harbend started placing orders for items of trade.


    The roles of expertise were turned and Vildir only showed a passing interest as they walked in and out of shops selling perfumes, books and a wild variety of small items displaying the mechanical prowess of Keen, like hand held clocks, instruments for measuring exact distances and regulators for gases and liquids.


    Harbend quickly ran out of money. When he received a message requesting his presence at his favorite restaurant he was relieved Arthur had called the meeting. It would be awkward anyway to remind him of the money needed for purchasing horses, wagons and the bulky furniture meant for the market in Braka.


    Hiring armed men for protection would be hideously expensive, but without those in place no one in Erkateren would be willing to join the caravan and share the expenses.


    Around noon, Harbend locked the door to his office behind him, something he made into a habit after finding his relatives in his home. Uncle Ramdar and Vildir had taken rooms in Two Worlds. With trade as it was Harbend even managed to wriggle a discount from the unhappy manager, but still, lodging his relatives in the way the family name required depleted his already strained resources in a dangerous way.


    Harbend shuddered at the thought of what could have happened back home in Khi and took to the streets waving to get the attention of a nearby coach.


    "The Tree," Harbend said to the driver and climbed inside. Every coach driver in the city knew the location of the famous restaurant and with a tug the coach started moving.


    The streets passed in a blur, not because of any dangerous speed, but because Harbend was too busy counting how many days it would be before he ran out of money. He grimly realized he was acting out the perfect copy of Arthur staring out the window without seeing anything he passed by. The ride took but a short while and he found himself walking down the path in the garden before he came to himself enough to care about his surroundings.

 Chapter four, Departure, part two

    Arthur smiled when he saw Harbend enter the dining cottage. This very cottage had become something of a daily refuge to Arthur.


    He was still unused to taking part in his own business, but hopefully he was learning fast enough. Now he had to take care of the unpleasant business with Harbend as well, but Arthur had laid his plans carefully, and he''d caught Harbend in a trap. There would be protests, no doubts about that, but eventually the result would be what Arthur wanted.


    "I hope you don''t mind my ordering the courses," Arthur said as Harbend took his seat.


    "Not at all," Harbend answered frowning.


    Arthur suspected Harbend couldn''t have cared less about the courses ordered, but an outworlder client being able to communicate anything that complex was reason to be worried, and Arthur needed Harbend to be off balance for the entire dinner. When the servant arrived to make sure both guests were ready Arthur spoke before Harbend had a chance.


    "We would like to start with the cold dishes and a bottle of your best white wine," Arthur said in De Vhatic owing more to rehearsal than any real understanding.


    The servant replied and Arthur waved her away. He hadn''t grasped more than one single word of the reply, but Harbend didn''t know that.


    Arthur faced Harbend again. "Now, I think we should converse in English. My grasp of De Vhatic is basic at best." He savored the stunned silence that followed.


    The dinner continued much in the same way with Arthur placing increasingly specific orders in De Vhatic, and during the courses they shared pleasantries with each other, both men carefully avoiding the topic they wanted to touch.


    When at last a bottle of strong, sweet wine arrived together with chilled fruit and cheese they were both ready to breach the subject they had been thinking about all the time. Arthur allowed Harbend to open the real conversation. Counter strikes would be more effective than going on the offensive from the beginning.


    "About the financing of the caravan. I have made all the preparations, and we need to be off in a couple of days." He waited for Arthur to say anything, but Arthur declined the offer. "There is still the matter of buying the real cargo as well as the means to carry the load. Not to mention hiring the escort."


    "Ah, yes?"


    "Eh, my resources are currently sadly lacking, and if you could join into the investment as previously agreed..."


    Perfect! As Arthur had been informed Harbend was close to bankruptcy and now needed the money to proceed.


    "That shouldn''t pose any difficulties. As you understand I''ll need to oversee the handling of my investment."


    Harbend frowned slightly. "I fail to see any problems with that," he agreed carefully.


    "Great. Then we''re still in agreement. I''ll make the money available for you before we leave."


    The relief Harbend expressed was so great Arthur almost felt sorry for him.


    "Wonderful! The core wagon train should be on the road in three days..." Harbend ground to a halt, understanding dawning in his face. "We? You cannot come! You have a sky ship home to catch within eightdays. The caravan will be on the roads for seasons."


    Arthur decided to end the feinting there and then. "I''ll not go back home without my money. If it stays, I stay where it is. I''ve deposited almost all of it with the de Felder money traders." Color rose in Harbend''s face, but the merchant was a defeated man.


    "It would take you several days to get your personal gear, and that will be too great a delay," Harbend said grasping desperately for a way out.


    "My personal gear is already stored away. You may inspect it if you like, but I doubt that you''ll find anything wrong with it." So easy, delivering the coup de grace. Harbend deflated in front of him. Then, slowly as if remembering something, Harbend started to grin.


    "Why not, just one more tradition smashed to splinters. You are welcome to join the ride, partner." He laughed, more to himself than for Arthur''s benefit. "But how did you know where to buy equipment for the road..." A startled expression grew in his face and he glared at Arthur with something like amused respect glimmering in his eyes. "You... you... you ill begotten son of nameless parents! It was you who had me followed!"


    Arthur merely smiled and raised his glass in acknowledgment. Harbend laughed in response and filled his own.


    "This should be very, very interesting," he said, still laughing. "You have to tell me how you did it. You have wrought more changes to us than any other outworlder trader I know of. Gods! More than all of them together."


    Arthur sipped his wine, almost as sweet as the taste of victory.


    #


    "No, no, no! I shall see no stallions in my caravan. Give me your good mares if you lack geldings." Agitation rose in Harbend. They needed to be on the road in a day but still lacked several horses. At least hiring men at arms had been easy thanks to Vildir.


    Harbend turned on his heels and faced the horse trader. "Do you have any good horses left at all, or do I have to find one of your colleagues?"


    The man winced. Losing a buying customer was usually a bad thing, and Harbend was buying a very large quantity of horses, so his threat was substantial.


    "Of course I have, sir. It just takes some time to round them all up," the trader said, freckled cheeks reddening visibly. "Sir, you''re not exactly asking for plough horses you know."


    Harbend did. Vildir had personally examined each of the creatures offered, and while he wasn''t looking for war-trained beasts he made sure Harbend didn''t end up with weak creatures not capable of lasting the long days to come.


    The trader they were buying the horses from was supposedly one of the best, and most honest. Vildir had only placed his veto once and Harbend suspected it had been more for show than any solid reason. The horses were good, but now the trader tried to sell him the uneasy stallions he had available rather than fetching more horses from fields where they still grazed.


    Harbend liked the smell of horses. Not all men did, but you didn''t grow up with a man like Vildir Kanir around you without learning to appreciate the graceful animals, stupid as they all too often were.


    "Sir, I can have another five mares here this afternoon, but you''ve already bought all my geldings. I''m sorry." Desperation tinged the voice, but to Harbend it was like listening to music.


    "Five? This afternoon?"


    "Yes, sir." The trader''s face brightened at the prospect of closing an affair of such magnitude.


    Harbend knew he''d save the trader the cost of long months of stabling with food and grooms adding to the renting of stables. Five horses. He needed another four. An idea struck him.


    "Do you have mules?"


    "But, of course, sir. How many do you need?"


    Genuine relief coursed through him. He beamed at the man. "Six of them, at a discount."


    The horse trader hesitated for a moment.


    Harbend stared him down. Relief was no reason to allow unnecessary money to escape his grasp.


    "I''ll have them here this afternoon as well. Actually I''ll bring eight for you to choose from." The trader''s expression was almost comical to see. So eager to please now he''d forgotten some of the basics of trading, and Harbend realized he wouldn''t have to pay much for the mules.


    "That will be excellent, my good man. I shall return here later. My man will accompany me, of course," he added nodding towards Vildir. There was no reason to make the horse trader feel too comfortable.


    They parted, but not before Harbend had seen the trader throw Vildir a sullen stare. Harbend strode away forcing himself to hide a wide grin threatening to spread all over his face.


    "Vildir," he called in their shared language, "time to leave. We need to meet Arthur."


    Merchant and horse-lord converged just outside the corral.


    They were south of Verd, outside Krante gates. Whore''s Crotch as the fields were called by the poor referring to the highway splitting in one easterly and one westerly leg and the city gates open to anyone with goods to sell or money to spend.


    A temporary town grew here late summer each year. During two frenzied eightdays, just before the harvest festival, a gigantic market took place on the exercise fields when most of the four cavalry regiments stationed in Verd were away in small groups to help farmers with harvesting.


    Harbend shuffled along the dusty ground with Vildir beside him. They were thirsty and tired, and a late heatwave had caught them wearing clothes far too warm. Harbend wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and stared longingly at a tent they passed. They served cold beer there, but Arthur had seated himself in a pavilion at the edge of the market so they still had some distance to walk.


    "What do you think?" Harbend asked, mostly to turn his thoughts from the alluring promise of a thirst quencher.


    "Horses are good," Vildir admitted.


    "Horses are good," Harbend echoed, a tinge of scorn in his voice. "Gods! Horses are superior would be more correct. We do not have these beasts in Khi, and you know it."


    "Nothing wrong with our horses," Vildir countered defensively, but Harbend could see the calculating mind of the horse-lord working. No doubt he was trying to find a way to buy and transport several of the stallions Harbend had refused to have anything to do with. As studs they would be perfect.


    He repressed a smile until he saw Arthur. He was no longer sitting at the table where they had left him. He wasn''t sitting at all. A group of children and some young women had dragged him to an opening between the tents and were teaching him one of the local dances while a crowd of spectators cheered them on with whistles and rude jeers. On a dais an older woman in plain, linen clothes played a flute and beside her a youngster hammered away on two drums. One jester threw wildflowers over Arthur and the girl he currently danced with, while another tried to collect money from the audience.


    Harbend winced slightly and Vildir looked at him in alarm.


    "Mock wedding," Harbend explained.


    "Arthur does not know?" Vildir asked, just a bit too gravely.


    "The man does not know at all," Harbend agreed gleefully. He looked at Vildir and saw the usually somber horse-lord biting back a grin.


    "She would make a strong wife," Vildir sputtered.


    They both burst out laughing, and taken by the air of festivity they threw themselves into the dance to the approving cheers of people around them. More joined, both musicians and revelers, and Harbend soon found himself with his arms around the waist of a very pretty, very young woman laughing wildly as they swirled round and round again.


    #


    Arthur examined the horses while he absentmindedly counted his coins. No copper or silver shields this time. He was still sweaty and happy after the impromptu celebration he''d taken part in earlier. A large quantity of weak beer had cooled him down somewhat, but he still felt a bit giddy. Years since he danced the last time and he was pleasantly surprised he hadn''t forgotten the motions.


    Arthur opened his right hand to Harbend who accepted more money. They had bought over eighty horses and a few ponies, or mules. Arthur wasn''t certain about the latter.


    Sixteen wagons already on their way to the eastern gates, driven there by the men they hired. All in all a massive undertaking. Several hundreds of the gold marks had changed owners, enough money to buy a number of large farms with livestock and all, and the expensive part was yet to come. The men had to be paid two weeks, or rather eightdays as they counted time here, in advance. Hundreds, if not thousands more of the coins would flow before they reached their final destination, and then they needed to come back the same way.


    Arthur continued studying the horses closest to him. Mares and geldings he guessed. Brown or gray all of them. Sedate, but to his untrained eye they looked healthy enough. He searched again.


    That one, the brown with kind eyes. "Harbend, I''ll ride the brown one, to the right."


    "Ride? Should you not be on a wagon instead?"


    "To begin with, yes. We don''t want anyone recognizing me on our way out of Verd, but after that I''ll ride."


    Harbend glared angrily. "This is a real journey. I do not have the time to break in an untrained rider."


    "No need. I spent a lot of my youth on horseback." Arthur didn''t lie. He fondly remembered long treks in the Canadian wilderness. Harbend didn''t seem convinced though.


    "A lot? I thought you outworlders did not use anything as mundane as horses."


    "At home that would be exotic, not mundane, but you''re right." Arthur laughed. "My grandfather bred horses for rich people to use in their spare time. We call it tourism. I''ve spent weeks riding cross country, but I admit it was a long time ago."


    Harbend''s stare grew milder. "And you have not forgotten how?"


    "How could I?" Arthur decided to take a chance. "I''m a trained initiate. Even have a healed broken rib as a reminder of where to stand around a horse," he said grinning.


    Harbend grunted, but Arthur could see he was satisfied nonetheless. Arthur sighed in silent relief. He hadn''t forgotten the shaky ride from the terminal building to the train station the day he arrived. The wagons they had bought now didn''t have the metal shock absorbers all carriages and coaches used in the city boasted.


    "Well, I think we are done for today. Let us go back to your hotel," Harbend said.


    Arthur yawned. It wasn''t late in the afternoon, but they had started early and he was tired already. "Agreed," he said, and they marched away spreading dust with every step. Vildir caught up with them and together they made their way back to the city.


    The day had begun with clear skies and a blazing sun, but the afternoon was overcast. The sweltering heat continued however, with humidity as an added torture. Arthur pressed his temples to ease a slowly spreading headache.


    They walked in silence. The next day would see their formal parting with Harbend''s relatives, of whom Arthur had only met Vildir, and Arthur could see that Harbend was uneasy. He hadn''t spoken much of them, only that the man he sometimes called uncle and sometimes Ramdar was the leader of their family. From what little Harbend had told Arthur got the impression that Khi was a clan based, feudal society.


    Vildir, the stern follower who preferred listening to talking, was obviously a military commander of some kind. High ranking, if Arthur''s guessed correctly. Vildir had showed some sense of humor earlier, but it was the first time Arthur saw an expression of joy in the silent soldier.


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    During earlier conversations it became clear that Arthur was in reality paying Harbend to save his family from some trouble. Arthur wasn''t sure Harbend had meant him to know though.


    Striding past a weaponry Harbend asked them to wait and went inside. Arthur could hear him talking with someone inside, and then Harbend returned with a package in his hands.


    "Wait until you reach your rooms," he said when Arthur gave the package a quizzical look. Arthur shrugged and they continued.


    The streets were busier now. Everyone seemed to prepare for the eightday of festivities ahead and long strings were already stretched between buildings, adorned with small flags. In one corner a man and a woman, both in bleached linen, laid the finishing touches to a stage they''d been busy erecting over the last few days. In another tables and benches occupied most of the sidewalk where a tavern had moved outdoors.


    They had to push their way through the crowd when they weren''t pushed aside themselves. All very chaotic, but a friendly chaos tinged with humor and anticipation. Not without a certain pang of regret Arthur realized he was going to leave all this behind, but Harbend had told him that during the coming eightday the roads would be clear and travel easy. After that people returned home clogging the roads for a full two eightdays, and Harbend wanted to reach some point along the road before autumn turned to winter.


    They approached another temporary tavern, one of many springing up everywhere, occupying a large portion of the street for the eightday to come.


    Now this is perfect. Cameras, three on the street, two in fliers and one hidden behind a hole drilled in the wall. Arthur grinned. Now just add myself on that bench and I''ll have the audience scrambling to their feet. They''ll die to be here with me. The scene was so perfect Arthur decided he no longer was in a hurry and sat down on the bench he''d marked mentally.


    "Friends, the day is far from closing, and my thirst is great." He winked at his companions and nudged a woman at his side to make place for another thirsty reveler. She smiled shyly at him and moved away as far as the crowded bench allowed.


    "Mere thirst?" Harbend teased after he translated Arthur''s words to Vildir.


    Arthur made a show of growling at Harbend. The woman moved away further than Arthur first thought possible. An angry voice from the end told him that he''d been correct and he had to think rapidly to keep the fun from turning ugly.


    He rose, looking Harbend in the eyes and shouted, "Today is my lucky day. I''ll buy each of you one mug or cup of whatever you fancy here. Only one, mind you, you greedy ones."


    Harbend translated loudly and the anger turned to happy cheers. Arthur had to accept a rain of hard slaps on his back and shoulders. He threw a glance at the man who had been pushed out from the bench. He was grinning happily from where he was leaning against the wall. A free drink seemed to have been compensation enough for losing his seat.


    Arthur studied the people surrounding him. There was a mix of clothes he didn''t recognize from just a few days earlier. Not only the bright colors of the rich and the gray, black and white of the majority who made their living in the city, but also brown and muted green. Farmers, timber men and others who lived outside the city, their faces more tanned and weather-beaten than the city dwellers, hands large and calloused from long days of labor. All come together in celebration, and it dawned on him that there was far more to Verd than the city itself.


    Suddenly there was a flurry of running legs and swinging skirts around them when servants came out with the beverages he''d ordered. Tankards, cups and glasses of all sizes hit the tables. It was going to be a lot more expensive than he first planned, but to hell with that. Tomorrow was adventure, today celebration.


    He smiled at the woman beside him and was rewarded with a grateful grin as she raised her glass, saluting him briefly before returning to her conversation with a friend sitting across the table.


    A commotion behind him had him turn to get a better view. A jester climbed the table and shouted to get the attention of those present. It was slow going, but by sheer persistence he eventually managed to attain his goal. He could have been thirty or so, Arthur guessed. Short, red hair, blue eyes and a face that would never tan, but rather turn painfully red if it was ever exposed to too much sun. He wore the linen and leather of a farmer and a wide brimmed hat hung from a string around his neck.


    "... friends gathered... generosity." He pointed at Arthur and loud voices of agreement rose together with mugs and tankards. "... true value of generosity... valued in gold..." Arthur only understood broken parts of what was said, but when he looked around himself for a translation Harbend only shook his head. The man continued for a long time, meeting laughing interjections with retorts bringing more laughter before he continued.


    Arthur knew he was watching a show, and the man on the table displayed a reasonable talent for the art. He could have performed professionally on a small club anywhere on Earth. Arthur leaned back and enjoyed the performance even though he was unable to grasp what it was all about. When the man finally came to an end a roar of appreciation greeted him. Several in the audience called servants to attention, and the man received more than his share of beverages soon enough.


    "What was that all about?" Arthur asked Harbend when the noise had subsided to a more reasonable level of cacophony.


    "A story well told," Harbend answered, still grinning.


    Even Vildir looked as if he had enjoyed the show, and from what Arthur knew Vildir''s grasp of De Vhatic was virtually nonexistent.


    "Lucky coincidence then that everyone seemed to enjoy it."


    Harbend gave Arthur a confused glance. "Eh?"


    "I mean, what if they had preferred to drink and talk undisturbed instead?"


    Harbend just shot Arthur another blank look. This was definitely an interesting turn of events. Another grain of knowledge.


    "Why should everyone, everywhere just accept a joker like that, funny as he may be?"


    "Sometimes you outworlders never cease to amaze me. The man you call a joker is a storyteller. A decently good one as well. The art is... how do you call it... ah, yes, sacrosanct in all the lands I have heard of."


    Arthur started to understand. "Like our glorified view of the medieval bard?"


    "No, not a bard. Songs and music may be welcome from time to time, but storytelling is, well, storytelling," Harbend said with something looking like agitation.


    "Explain more to an idiot truly unfamiliar with this world."


    Harbend looked confused again. For a short while he stayed silent as if grasping for words.


    "Storytelling, my friend, is the lowest form of the art, but holy, or inviolable, or whatever a man may prefer to call it nonetheless. The higher form is called tale telling, and on that level the art brings memories of our past to us. It keeps us connected to our history, to our world in a way no written words can do."


    "I think that I..."


    "You shall not interrupt me. You asked for an explanation. The highest form of the art is the Weave, but taleweavers are rare. Only a few live at any given time. They have the gift to bring our history here so we can live it through their words. In a sense they are our history."


    Arthur was baffled. Otherworld was truly different. He understood the experience of taking part of a good story, be it told in a good book, a musical masterpiece or a holo show brought to perfection. He couldn''t have imagined a place where people believed such an experience could be limited to one art form only.


    "Then I apologize for my ignorance," he said to avoid dampening the mood. He was still having a good time and didn''t want them to break up just yet.


    Harbend smiled back. "No need. What you do not know, well, you do not know."


    "Have you seen any of these taleweavers?" Arthur asked politely.


    "Only once," Harbend answered, and there was a sense of awe to his voice. "One Ken Leiter de Ghera is supposed to be the finest there is, but I have yet to earn that honor."


    "And he''s working at the theater?"


    "No, no." Harbend laughed. "They always work alone. As I said, they are very few. As legend has it he journeyed overseas, with the westerners, in search of more of his own kind over a generation ago."


    Harbend raised his glass and Arthur did the same. The wine wasn''t too bad considering the price, and he called to get the attention of a servant.


    "I trade one standard unit of this item," Arthur said in De Vhatic.


    Harbend laughed loudly and clarified the order.


    "You are catching up, my friend, but not everything is measured in standard units." He proceeded to explain the differences between jugs, glasses, mugs and tankards, and Arthur greedily absorbed the words and their meaning.


    The air cooled slightly while they emptied a jug, and then one more, of wine, and late afternoon turned to evening. Streetlights came on as darkness fell but people showed no interest in returning to their homes as they usually did at this hour, and they drank and sang together late into the evening.


    Harbend occasionally translated the words accompanying the tunes, but mostly Arthur was satisfied singing along not knowing the meaning of what he drunkenly bawled.


    #


    There was a hammer and an anvil, and there was his head caught between them. He heard horses and coaches rumbling like thunder outside his window, and then someone threw open his door in the adjacent room and crushing steps hammered across the floor. The sliding doors crashed open and Harbend peered in.


    "Rise, my tired partner. Rise. We have a long day ahead," the voice thundered.


    Arthur groaned and staggered to his bathroom. Then he came to think of the small med kit he had brought.


    "Give me a few moments," he called weakly. He chose a harsh treatment and pressed the injector to his throat. Almost immediately he started to sweat and his temperature rose. He vomited several times before he felt sure his stomach had calmed down. After a short bath he had his hangover under control. It seemed his earlier boast of being able to cope with poisons had been a bit exaggerated, but then again, the amount of alcohol he''d drunk last evening had indeed been impressive.


    Arthur sat down at his breakfast table, and he knew from sidelong glances that Harbend was checking his surprise. Still, the treatment had cost Arthur a lot of energy and he needed the food. Indiscriminately he gulped down everything on the table.


    "On our way then?" Arthur asked when he was finished.


    "I could have sworn I would have needed to carry you out from here," Harbend said no longer trying to conceal that he was impressed.


    "I told you we have some magic of our own," Arthur teased.


    Harbend grunted. "Well, there is one thing left before we go. I have seen you carrying that rapier you bought, and it just shall not do. Bring it by all means, but carry this instead to begin with." He showed Arthur the package from the weaponry they passed the day before.


    "What is it?"


    "Open it and see for yourself."


    Arthur did so. He grabbed the handle of a short, lightweight club with a metal head. A mace.


    "Why?"


    "Hopefully you shall never have to use it, but if you do, this is easier to handle. Waving that rapier of yours without proper training shall only get yourself killed," Harbend explained mercilessly.


    Arthur realized the assessment of his skills as a swordsman was correct and kept his silence. He hadn''t known what to buy when Harbend''s acquisitions had been reported to him, and while trying to wear the weapon he''d soon found out he risked tripping himself. The mace he could hang by his side without fearing it would interfere with his walking.


    "Thank you. I appreciate that."


    Harbend nodded.


    "I have your gear on a wagon outside. Your rooms are paid for and I have given Ramdar what he needs to secure our absence."


    "How much?"


    "One hundred and seventy gold marks. It should more than cover any expenses he could possibly encounter on our behalf."


    Arthur agreed silently and they departed. A wagon waited as promised. As it was covered with cloth Arthur changed his clothes inside while Harbend drove to the eastern gates. Closed in as he was Arthur didn''t see anything when they drove through the streets. The ride was less bumpy than he feared, but he had the excellent streets of Verd to thank for that rather than the wagon.


    Arthur sat down on a chest and pulled on a pair of leather boots. He couldn''t see much of himself in the muted light. Thick, linen trousers, the sleeves of an uncolored silk shirt sticking out from his jacket, some intricate patterns woven into the wool.


    He found a leather coat in the chest, but it was still too warm to be used and he let it lie there.


    Arthur missed the cotton from Earth, but it didn''t seem to be available here. His clothes itched in a way he wasn''t used to. He had his own underwear, but they wouldn''t last very long without the treatment only available at home. He picked up the soft hat and hung its string around his neck. When he finally could leave the wagon he wanted something to protect him from the sun.


    The wagon came to a halt. He knew they were passing the walled in part of the gates where the Inquisition checked travelers for magic. He heard Harbend exchange some bored words with them and they left the city walls behind them.


    Loud voices greeted them and Arthur could hear the creaking of wagons getting into motion. Horses shuffled along on both sides of him, the noise of clinking metal telling him the riders were armed. He would get to know them better later, but for now it would have to wait. He''d agreed to Harbend''s request that he wait for half a day before he mounted a horse of his own. They didn''t want to chance an unlucky encounter before they were well away from the city. Harbend would have to take his farewell of his uncle with Arthur still hiding in the wagon.


    Arthur sighed and decided to catch up on some of the sleep he should have gotten last night. Making a bed from his cloak and some spare clothes took but moments, and he soon fell asleep, gently rocked by the moving wagon.

 Intermezzo

    It was a dark and stormy night. Actually it wasn''t. It wasn''t even dark, but Payola Kambene preferred a certain sense of drama.


    She peered around the corner to make sure she didn''t lose sight of the man she followed. Still there. She waved Gideon closer and they both swaggered across the square towards their prey. The streets here were less well-lit than the domed cities she was used to, but lamps gave adequate light if nothing else.


    Now she was only interested in drawing as little attention to herself as possible, and skulking around corners among revelers on the streets was a sure way of making them both stand out. No one noticed a pair walking in the open, but she couldn''t get too close to anyone they met. Her black skin would give her away as a foreigner even this late in the evening. That and her height. The people living here were far shorter on average compared to home, and being a Martian she was as tall as most men on Earth.


    Gudrun guarded the passage south making sure they would at least know if their target left the hotel after they entered by one of the back doors.


    Their prey had turned out to be just as elusive as they had suspected. When he didn''t arrive on Theta 47 together with the other traders, Gideon, Gudrun and she simply assumed their roles as traders again and boarded the returning shuttle bound for the surface. After going through the motions of trading and selling the usual amount of metals, they found the local merchants to be a lot more close mouthed than expected.


    On top of that they seemed to have landed during some kind of major festivity and no one was doing what they were supposed to. Gathering information had become more difficult as a result, but not too difficult. Payola was relieved that this was her third trip to Otherworld in the disguise of a trader and not her first. Gudrun was doing her fifth run for Christina Ulfsdotir''s benefit, but Gideon was here for his first time.


    The man they followed disappeared and they increased their speed. When they arrived at the street he''d chosen they could see him as he walked through the doors to his hotel.


    Payola signaled Gudrun and ran down a side street. With Gideon tagging along behind her she quickly found the back door she looked for. Before she tried it she checked the windows.


    Third floor, all others dark. He must be somewhere on the third floor.


    She stole into the archway and prepared her primitive picklocks. After a few tries the door opened and they made their way to the stairs she knew would be in the center of the building. They climbed them and found themselves in the middle of a long corridor. Gideon took to the left and Payola chose the right.


    Most rooms were dark, but every time she saw light escaping from under a door she put her ear to it and listened. There should be an audible conversation. The information they had gathered told them Arthur Wallman lived here and that a black haired trader named Harbend Garak represented him. Apparently they met in Arthur''s rooms most late evenings.


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    She came to the end of the corridor. Nothing. Back again then. Gideon should be standing outside the right door by now. He was.


    Now for the last part of their mission, the part that required Gideon''s presence. Payola didn''t mind doing dirty work if the pay was right, but she admitted that she lacked Gideon''s practice at what lay ahead.


    "We sneak in, you to the right and I take the left." She drew a gun from her shoulder holster. At her side Gideon did the same.


    She tested the doors. They weren''t even closed and swung open soundlessly. Silently she entered, crouched slightly and sped to the sliding doors she saw at the end of the room she had entered.


    She raised her gun and prepared herself.


    There was a sound like a bag of sugar dropping on the floor behind her. Then followed a muted gurgling and she spun. Gideon was falling backwards with an arrow protruding from his chest. She fired twice in the direction the arrow must have come from and bolted for the doors. She was almost there when she felt a searing pain across her back. She fell, fell and turned.


    "A sword! Who the hell carries a bloody sword indoors?" she croaked.


    #


    "Now, what have we here? Assassins! One from Khanati and one from Rhuin."


    "No, Vildir, this one may be as black as those from Rhuin, but they are both outworlders." Ramdar Garak bent over the woman beneath him. She stirred. He cut her throat. She wouldn''t have survived the night anyway. "I believe young Harbend has more problems than he knows of."


    "His partner?" Vildir asked.


    Ramdar nodded. "With outworlder assassins stalking the streets, yes. I did not anticipate this."


    "When plans meet the enemy..."


    "They seldom survive, but outworlder interference is more than we bargained for," Ramdar finished.


    #


    When morning came Gudrun gave up all hope of ever seeing Payola or Gideon alive again. A small detachment of troops entered the hotel she watched and she decided to leave. She even managed to recognize the man she had watched the previous evening. He stood in the entrance to the hotel, a man beside him talking with the soldiers. If he was alive and soldiers were needed there was no hope left.


    Getting away to the launch port shouldn''t pose much of a problem, but she didn''t look forward to reporting their failure to Christina Ulfsdotir.

 Chapter five, The Caravan, part one

    Arthur gazed at the road from atop his horse. It had taken a day or two to get used to riding again, and he ached in places he didn''t remember had muscles.


    There was a smell of travel. The distinct odor of sweat, horse and earth, even though none of the last could be found on the road. That was as meticulously clean as the streets in Verd. As if it was nothing but an extension to those streets. At close to twenty meters wide it looked strangely deserted as they slowly added kilometer after kilometer to the days travel. The road looked more out of place here. A glittering white line contrasting with everything as it cut through farmlands and fields with grazing horses and cattle.


    By now Arthur understood why they used lamps as a way to measure shorter distances here. The lampposts were still lining the road making traveling in the evening a pleasant experience.


    Arthur recognized the uniform ahead of him and rode to catch up with the escort captain.


    "Captain Laiden."


    "M''lord?"


    Arthur chose not to visibly notice the stiff use of a title he didn''t have. It was, he guessed, just Trindai Laiden''s way of speaking.


    "I wonder ... road good quality many... ah, standard unit time?" Arthur hoped the captain would be able to understand the question.


    Trindai looked back, and Arthur could see him trying to make out the meaning of the words.


    "Four days, M''lord."


    That answered the question, but if Arthur wanted to expand on the conversation he needed Harbend. Sighing Arthur gave up the attempt to socialize and fell back to the wagon he shared with Harbend. It would be a long journey if he didn''t learn some more De Vhatic. Long in a way he''d need time to accept, time suddenly available only to idle away. A far cry from his crammed schedule where each minute was a resource to be used for the benefit of Arthur Wallman in his role as an industry but all too seldom for himself. Now all he could do was to sit in his saddle and mentally try to scratch the itch of inactivity.


    Been scratching it since I met Harbend, he admitted.


    He remembered the first of the meetings with Harbend when the caravan became a possibility. He recalled the flowers drooping lower to the table as the evening proceeded while his trust in the man Harbend Garak rose. Of course he didn''t trust the businessman Harbend Garak, but then he never trusted any businessman implicitly.


    Still, Harbend, even when lying had conferred truth and a trust that reached to Arthur.


    It had, Arthur mused as he rode on, been the starting moment of a growing friendship.


    #


    A few days later Harbend watched as Arthur rode back along the road.


    You know how to handle a horse, but you''ve never fought from horseback.


    It was all too clear Arthur came from a very different world were such skills weren''t much in demand. Harbend wistfully wondered what such a place would be like.


    For ten years now he''d been a trader and a traveler. Had seen great Rhuin with their black skinned, proud people, taken ship to ancient Kenlad. Even had a short glimpse of powerful Khanati before trading his way back west and then north, through the petty states west of Kenlad and then Ira, where magic was as mundane as any other craft. Followed the old caravan route to Kastari and settled there for a season.


    He''d enjoyed the sight of the great beasts they tamed there, but trade was why he traveled, and apart from the busy trade around the great iron square in the capital where metals magically arrived from far away Braka they didn''t show much interest in his goods.


    He rode his horses through Chach, declining Chach with their knightly ideals confronting an ever changing world inevitably breaking over their borders causing outbursts of civil war that had come and gone for almost two hundred years. There had been an uneasy peace when he bought passage across the Narrow Sea.


    He journeyed through the southern De Vhatic states paying only token obedience to the capital of Keen and then he entered the main network of roads along which Keen ruled supreme.


    Brought up in a nation part island and part mainland colonies he settled down in Hasselden, the southernmost port in Keen. So many years ago.


    He had, Harbend realized glumly, stayed in one place for far too long, and then sudden elation soared through him. He was on the road again.


    He shot Arthur another glance. They were both saddle sore during the first few days, but Arthur hid his grimaces almost as fast as Harbend did, and now none of them rode with any visible discomfort.


    Harbend felt his horse move under him. She was tiring. He dismounted and climbed the reserve a groom had already made ready for him.


    Close to Roadbreak now.


    The main road ended there at one end of the small town and on the other side lay the former duchy of Vimarin. He needed to talk with Arthur about it.


    "Friend, over here," he called.


    Arthur rode closer and used the pause to change horses himself. "Yes?"


    "Over there is Roadbreak."


    "Doesn''t it have a name in De Vhatic?" Arthur asked nonplussed.


    Harbend thought for a moment. "Yes, yes, I guess so, but it is translated into Khi as well. Known for what it is rather than its name." He shrugged. "Anyway, you can see the telegraph from here." Harbend pointed to the black and yellow squares clearly seen even from this distance.


    Arthur squinted to see better. "I should have brought a pair of binoculars," he complained.


    "Binoculars?"


    "Eh, the equipment you use to read the telegraphs with, but portable."


    "I have one." Harbend dismounted and walked to his remount. The groom had only begun to remove the harness and it was still saddled. Harbend opened a pocket on the saddlebags and returned with a pair of field glasses.


    "Cost me a fortune," he said as he gave them to Arthur.


    Arthur put them to his eyes and looked in the direction Harbend pointed. "Ah, I see them now. Your eyes are better than mine."


    Harbend shook his head. That was an impossibility. A man had to be half blind if he didn''t see the telegraph from this distance. It was easy to see beside... He mentally apologized to Arthur. A long line of brightly yellow trees grew behind the telegraph.


    "You see it now?"


    "Yes, even without the glasses. The apple trees fooled me, but now when I know where it is I can almost see the pattern with my bare eyes."


    "How do you see they are apple trees?" Harbend was genuinely shocked.


    "That pale yellow just has to be summer fruit."


    Harbend was still shocked.


    "Or, it could be the wind blowing from that direction and the entire road stinks of cider. They''ve got a brewery over there." Arthur gave Harbend a friendly clap on his shoulder and grinned.


    Harbend frowned. Then he caught the faint scent of sweet apples. He mounted, grinning back at Arthur.


    "Anyway," he said, "the town marks the end of the roads you are used to. From there on the roads are battered by weather and use and in poor condition. No more well-kept road inns each half a day. We shall need to tie up our cargo and I will buy more horses and wagons." He pointed eastward and put his horse in motion, cold saddle creaking under him. "That is the last proper breeding ground this side of the mountains and we shall have to buy grain and other food as well."


    Arthur nodded. "Want me to talk with the escort captain?"


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    "Please do. I have a shopping list to write."


    #


    Roadbreak turned out to be a dirty, smelly but rather lively place. Smaller than Arthur expected a town to be. Stone buildings dominated the center. A wall circled them and from the gates, like two long arms, rows of one and two stories wooden houses stretched outwards along the road running through the town.


    With townspeople, farmers and several soldiers in yellow and green milling around Arthur almost missed the organized elegance of Verd. A feeling of unease clung to the town like rain in autumn though, and he noted almost all of the soldiers were dressed like those outside the space port. Inquisition troops. It did make sense in an uncomfortable way.


    Here he came to a border town and if magic was banned in Keen then that implied it wasn''t banned somewhere else. Now he stared at such a thin line between Keen and a potential somewhere else.


    The sun was setting when they reached the town and Harbend hurried to make sure they all got rooms in the inns. Arthur wondered why everyone was in such a hurry, but after dusk, when the lamplights he''d expected didn''t come on apart from a few blocks surrounding the road inn supporting the telegraph on its roof, he understood. The streets were dark. Had it not been for the moon he''d have been hard pressed to see where he put his feet. He never strayed from the main street and after a short while climbed the stairs to the porch outside the inn where he was to spend the night.


    The escort captain sat draped over a chair staring into the darkness. They exchanged a few polite words of greetings.


    Arthur picked a chair for himself at the other side of the front doors. Sitting down weariness crept up his legs. A long day, riding and walking, riding and walking. He snorted at himself. It had been a long eightday. There it was.


    I''m already starting to think in eightdays rather than weeks, and each day is longer as well. Twenty five hours and thirty six minutes to be exact. Three hundred and sixty of those to a year. A bit more to be exact.


    Every eight years they had to add an extra day. He assumed that was one possible reason they were so fond of the number eight.


    Stretching his legs he bent his neck to get rid of the stiffness. Almost twenty years since he demanded this much of his body.


    But I haven''t forgotten, and that made him feel at least a little bit proud of himself. Untrained still, but weeks on the move would change that. He''d forced himself on Harbend and didn''t want to be the one who delayed the caravan. That there wouldn''t ever have been one without his silver and gold didn''t matter.


    Stars glimmered above him. One of them was new, man made, but he''d never cared to learn which one was Theta 47. He probably ought to learn. As long as he didn''t travel too far east it should always point approximately to the south, placed in geostationary orbit around the equator as it was.


    Settling back in his chair, he stayed for a while, allowing the day''s travel to drain out of him. It wasn''t until he started to feel stiff from the cold that he rose and stumbled in through the doorway. He entered almost at the foot of the stairs to the second floor but chose the narrow corridor beside them and came into the tavern.


    The room was smaller than he had suspected, with only six tables and three or four chairs around each of them. He saw Harbend at one and sat down beside him. The merchant had almost finished his meal and didn''t seem to be in a mood for talking, so Arthur waved for the innkeeper, pointed at Harbend''s bowl and ordered the same. When the food finally arrived Harbend had already left, and Arthur ate his evening meal in silence.


    #


    Harbend growled. They''d lost a full day in Roadbreak and when the horses finally arrived they were fewer than he''d hoped for. Now he was left with ten new wagons and only twenty new horses. He''d need another twenty, but those couldn''t be brought in before another two days had passed, and that was time he didn''t have.


    He''d be forced to take his chances and buy horses as they passed farms, but he didn''t dare to stay much longer. He was an unknown foreigner here, much more so than in Verd, and if this town was anything like Hasselden then the ever present Inquisition was probably as unpopular. Sooner or later either someone from the local population or a soldier would take out the irritation on the easiest target available, and Harbend didn''t plan to be anywhere near when that happened.


    He was about to leave the corral when a young woman arrived with five horses and a couple of mules.


    "Hi, heard you needed beasts," she called.


    He looked her over. Long, brown hair hidden under a soft felt hat, freckled, suntanned face. Somewhere in her early twenties. She wore a leather jacket open in the front, so he could see that both shirt and trousers were made of the same rough linen, probably even from the same bale.


    Well formed.


    She''d carry children without much damage, probably already had a couple. They bred early out here.


    "Yes, that is correct. I could do with the mules as well," he said when she came closer. He''d been wrong. She probably was in her late teens.


    "You''re setting up a caravan?" Her accent was oddly unfamiliar, but they were as far from Keen proper as was possible.


    "I am. That should be rather obvious. How so?"


    She looked at him and smiled. "Care for company?"


    "Merchant?"


    "I''m not, and neither is my mother, but she wants to join anyway. We could help you get more horses along the way. We know the farms."


    Harbend recognized when he was being mildly blackmailed, but he didn''t care. Each addition to the caravan was good for him, and if they could get him horses more easily then that was a bonus.


    "You shall be welcome, but there is a fee."


    "You handle that with Mother. I''m just to leave the horses here. Got to pack, you see." With that she left the animals to one of his grooms and rode off.


    Mother turned out to be a woman not much older than himself, clad in almost identical clothes as her daughter. The owner of the brewery and wanted to know if she could get better prices for her wares elsewhere. Harbend soon lowered her expectations concerning the cider, but the brandy had aged well and would fetch a handsome revenue as close as Erkateren, and they were soon haggling over the horses and the admittance fee Harbend demanded.


    Sitting in the tavern they both looked up when Arthur entered. Harbend waved him to the table.


    "Arthur, meet Lianin, our first partner."


    Arthur bowed and took a chair for himself.


    "You make... me honored. What wares do you have for display?" Arthur said in De Vhatic.


    Harbend translated her answer and explained further.


    "She shall bring six wagons of her own, and she just sold me five horses and four mules. I have bought the brandy she could not bring herself. There is also twelve wagon''s worth of strong cider, but I think I shall sell most of it on our way to Erkateren."


    Arthur smiled in return. "Are we leaving tomorrow then?"


    "Gods! No, we shall be off as soon as people finish eating. This remarkable woman even knew where I could find a cooking wagon, and she shall bring her daughter to drive it and run the cooking as well."


    The remarkable woman frowned, and Harbend translated.


    "He''s a foreigner?" she asked.


    "Foreigner, yes. Mage, no. So you have no need to worry."


    "If that had been my main concern I wouldn''t have asked to go with you to Erkateren, not to speak of Braka," she replied with an amused glint in her eyes.


    Harbend laughed. "I admit defeat."


    "Now, what was that?" Arthur asked, and Harbend translated again.

 Chapter five, The Caravan, part two

    Two days from Roadbreak Arthur came to understand the peculiar name of the town. They were on the highway running west to east, from Keen to Erkateren, and only splotches of gravel told him someone did care for the road at all. There was dust everywhere, and he began longing for rain even if Harbend had warned him that rain was what would turn the road into a muddy quagmire. At the moment Arthur didn''t care. The dust crawled into his eyes, ears, nose and mouth, and every time he took off his jacket a cloud of the ever present dirt enveloped him in an instant.


    They''d bought the beasts of burden they needed at farms the girl led Harbend to, even though most of them turned out to be oxen. It mattered little. As draft animals they were stronger than horses, and with a wagon train speed wasn''t important. Especially on a road like this where they only managed to cover half the distance each day compared to back in Keen.


    A caravan, and by now it looked like one. Almost forty wagons in total and over a hundred horses, mules and oxen unaccounted for. Two grooms and two cooks hired in Roadbreak as well as a carpenter. With drivers and escort they were well over a hundred men and women traveling on the road. All the animals and humans in one place, always moving, made a noise Arthur wouldn''t have believed possible outside of a city.


    He wasn''t surprised when people came out from their farmhouses to watch the strange train passing by. Some even approached them asking for news from Keen and that usually resulted in a little bit of trade and the caravan swelled with livestock in exchange for cider and clothes made in Verd.


    #


    Trindai wiped grime from his forehead. He preferred riding with the vanguard, but responsible for the escort as a whole he couldn''t indulge in spending all of the day scouting ahead in friendly territory. Each mission was different and knowing how people acted and reacted was key to its outcome.


    He smiled as Major Terwin returned with his scouts.


    "News?"


    "Dust and bumps."


    "Sounds exciting. Get some food and rest. Rearguard next. Tell them to catch up with us and water their horses!"


    "Sir!"


    Trindai watched as Kalvar Terwin led his group to a nearby farm. They''d water their horses there while waiting for the rearguard to arrive.


    Peaceful this far at least. Luckily enough the greedy merchant and the oversized outworlder both turned out to be decent horsemen. Better yet, neither of them complained. A far cry from the horrid mission when he''d escorted a bunch of fat merchants from Dagd to Vratistak. One of Madame de Felder''s less successful assignments. One squadron babysitting lazy idiots never tired enough to cease complaining while at the same time collecting taxes long overdue from the client states they passed through.


    He shivered. Collecting them hadn''t been half as bad as returning the coffers safely back to Verd.


    Well, eightdays yet before he''d have anything real to worry about. Major Berdaler was the one with the problems this time. With the orders Trindai sent was a letter of debt covering the costs for mustering enough soldiers to swell the escort in Ri Khi. The Minister of Commerce had added another letter confirming that the caravan was an official De Vhatic trading mission.


    Trindai wondered how much weight it would carry in Ri Khi. Enough to attract a significant number of traders? Enough with the message about Lord Garak leading the caravan? A half-truth, nothing more. Harbend de Garak was a titled house, and as such a lord of sorts. Ramdar Garak was a full duke of Khi, the kind of lord people from Khi, or Ri Khi for that matter, would follow into a war zone.


    Wiping more grime from his face Trindai rode on. Next rotation he''d be part of the vanguard and he planned to change clothes before his respite from the dust.


    #


    To Arthur the weeks took on a monotonous routine. Waking at daybreak to the sound of metal clanking at the cooking wagon, then eating porridge, saddling a horse and away checking the road while the wagons were made ready. After that an entire day covered in dust, with only a short break for the midday meal, before it was time to make camp again. Riding with the vanguard was the only way to keep the worst of the dust away. Riding with the vanguard, unfortunately, also required him to don some pieces of leather armor which turned out to be heavier than he suspected, and a lot warmer.


    To his dismay he quickly learned that his attempts to communicate with anyone but Harbend still failed because of his inability to properly use De Vhatic. Words, he desperately hungered for new words. It wasn''t as if he disliked Harbend''s company, not at all, but he wanted to be part of the caravan as well.


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    The feeling of not belonging was strongest during the evenings, especially the evening following bathing day, the last of each eightday, when the caravan stood still and people spent the time making small repairs and washing their clothes. That day closed early, and great bonfires were laid in preparation for the coming feast. The evening meal one worth the name rather than cold leftovers or trail rations. A cow or some sheep were slaughtered and they all ate and drank until long after dark.


    One of the guards had a knack for storytelling, and Arthur was shut out from the happy laughter unable to understand more than occasional words. That hurt, hurt almost as much as his nightmares, but he forced himself to learn more despite the small voice telling him to give up.


    One morning Arthur tried to make notes on what he had caught of De Vhatic the previous day, and as always jotting down words on his notepad turned out difficult as he was riding. He''d thought of using a microphone rather than a pen, but that would cut down the lifespan of his power cells to less than half, and he didn''t know if he could ever get new ones.


    He was interrupted by the unfamiliar feeling of water on his face. Not a downpour but rather a steady drizzle, and Arthur was grateful when the ever present dust slowly settled.


    #


    Harbend swore as more and more wagons got mired. It was one of the hazards with a caravan he''d only heard about but never seen. A few wagons would never have been caught this way, and only the trailing wagons got into problems as the road softened. It took days of rain for a single wagon to get stuck.


    He ordered their reserve horses and all oxen to be added to the last wagons in an attempt to keep up speed. Now he could only hope the rain wouldn''t get much worse, or they''d start losing yet more time.


    Turning his horse he rode along the caravan until he met Arthur and the escort captain, a silent man named Trindai Laiden who, with Vildir''s approval, had picked the men to be in the escort.


    "Arthur, how is the road further on?"


    Arthur growled in response and Trindai answered instead.


    "Road''s impassable, M''lord. Creek turned river, but we can ford it if we follow a game trail Lord Wallman found. I guess it must have rained more further east."


    Harbend looked at Arthur. Gods! He wasn''t just wet from rain. The man must have fallen into the water, which would explain his less than cordial greeting earlier.


    Hold there! I asked my question in De Vhatic, but he must have understood it anyway.


    A marvel of a man, a very wet marvel at that. Harbend laughed and the captain shared his mirth, even if in a more silent manner.


    "Well, Arthur," he said, in English this time, "I see that you keep to your high standards of hygiene."


    "You be silent or you''ll bloody share it when we pass that river," came the sullen response.


    "Now, now, do not start complaining. You wished for a change in weather. You have it. I shall call it a fair trade."


    Arthur started grumbling again but was cut short by the sound of rustling wings when a large bird of prey passed over them and struck an animal no more than fifty paces away.


    "What was that?"


    Harbend glanced after the bird struggling with its prey. "An eagle. They are rather rare."


    "That''s no eagle. Maybe not even a bird."


    "It is an eagle. One of you outworlders taught me the word less than a year ago when we saw a bird like this circling over Verd."


    "But, Harbend, it''s got teeth and four legs! That''s a lizard''s head, not a beak."


    Harbend stared at his partner. Strange reaction from a man who supposedly had seen most of his own world. "So, some birds have beaks and some do not."


    Arthur didn''t answer. He just kept on staring while the eagle devoured its prey.

 Intermezzo

    Vivian McAdams, commander of Theta 47, Commodore with an admiralty within reach, received the complaint from the launch port but didn''t pay it too much attention. She had more to worry about than an unscheduled shuttle drop


    Hovering beside Theta 47 the TSS Hammerhand looked menacing despite its comparatively small size. Theta 47 was twenty kilometers across and the ship less than two hundred meters, ringed living quarters unaccounted for. The circling torus was well over a kilometer in diameter, but most people measured the size of a ship in the length of the solid center carrying the engines. The Hammerhand was more of an armed transport than a fighting vessel.


    She watched it on her screens. Both of its shuttle bays open and empty and she knew that within half an hour there would be more to complain about planet side. A different kind of complaint than those she had barely managed to keep to herself when a man from the past brought black memories to her a couple of hours earlier.


    #


    "I understand you don''t follow normal procedures, Major, but our capacity is limited to one launch every twenty-four days and either you are going to be grounded here or some traders will be very unhappy if you force them to wait on Theta 47."


    Heinrich Goldberger stared at the launch port commander but said nothing.


    Guess you''re not too happy having me here. Stay unhappy, fine! Just do as told!


    A few hours earlier he''d had to face Commodore McAdams on Theta 47. A meeting he hadn''t exactly looked forward to, not even with unease softened by the barrier of years passing since she''d been his only link with Earth. Now he had to deal with a clerk made officer, but at least this time there were no personal debts to be considered.


    High above them a bright star grew in the daylight.


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    "Another shuttle drop? Mercy of God, it''s huge!" The shuttle seemed to discard parts of itself and soon eight large tubes gently drifted to the ground carried by large parachutes. "Drop tanks!"


    "That''ll be all for now. I want you to tow in the second shuttle and bring the tanks here. We''ll need them if we are in a hurry launching."


    "This is unheard of..."


    "That will be all, I said." Heinrich left the commander and entered the terminal building he''d been part of constructing over ten long years ago. He was surprised he didn''t feel more returning here. Maybe he was just too busy carrying out the orders he''d received from his old lieutenant, Rear Admiral Erwin Radovic now.


    Erwin kept them alive when everyone else had died and if he sent an order, Heinrich wasn''t going to question the reason behind it. He did, however, question every single detail concerning how it was supposed to be carried out, and he knew the admiral trusted him to do so. The two men had become friends on Otherworld. They had never ceased to be professionals. Now that was a difference from the average Terran Federation official. The idiots had been quick enough in sending down good soldiers to act as spies, and how well had that turned out? Not a sound from those poor souls, not a single one.


    Heinrich shrugged the thought away. Now he had to instruct his men, and he turned to do so.


    Hurry up and wait, boys. We do that a lot, but not for too long this time. Must have scared the honorary captain into some semblance of efficiency.


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    Within minutes their gear arrived and they climbed into exoskeleton body walkers and trampled outside.


    Towering over three meters high each of them looked like a nightmare come alive, but to Heinrich''s surprise the cavalry unit waiting at the arrival gate kept their discipline. He saw the red and black uniforms, and something stirred in his memory.


    What happened here? This is not the Free Inquisition. What made them assign an elite unit to guard service? He swore silently.


    A recorded message was all he had in terms of explanation to hardened soldiers. Now he desperately wanted a translator, but he had to wait for one until they arrived in Verd.


    They had been isolated during the years he spent here earlier and never had the chance to learn the local language properly. Well, that couldn''t be helped now. He punched a button on his holo viewer and placed it on the ground.


    #


    Kandaren de Has, captain in the Holy Inquisition, was not a brave man. Brave men tended to go from temerity to rashness with all too obvious results. While dead troops sometimes could defend a position, they never delivered timely information to other units depending on them. Calculating, stable husbands made out the core of Keen''s finest. Adding a bit of imagination and a lot of caring to the equation and you had one of their officers.


    Kandaren loved the men in his squadron like a father loved his sons, not that he was above scolding them when they made dangerous mistakes, quite the opposite. But he was adamant in his belief that members of an elite unit should be limited to receive verbal trashing if at all possible, and he didn''t fancy the prospect of collective suicide.


    He recognized the hard eyes peering out from the visored helmet facing him. He saw them every day in his mirror when he shaved. There were seven more of the armored men. All of them experienced professionals from the look of the crouching semicircle. All of them carrying smaller versions of the weapons mounted on the roof behind them.


    Kandaren knew then that he would not give the orders to fire at the outworlders, not today. Horses whinnied and some started to back away and he barked an order to keep them in line. One of the strangers dropped a device well within range of the Staff master and a semitransparent representation of a man suddenly floated above it and started to talk in De Vhatic.


    "We are here to bring back one of our own. These men have orders to destroy any forbidden equipment they carry and will do so unbidden before they depart. We wish you no ill. When we have found our man we will bring him here and none of these men will disturb you any longer." The figure disappeared.


    One by one the two legged monsters arrived, ripped something from their helmets and crushed it in their mechanical gauntlets before dropping the remnants on the ground. The hard eyed commander faced Kandaren and said in broken De Vhatic, "No train use. We walk."


    They all turned and Kandaren could only watch in amazement as they started striding away towards the ridge, each of their great suits whizzing with the sound of a beast from legend breathing angrily. After a short while they reached what seemed to be their marching pace keeping the speed of a horse in full gallop all the way until they disappeared behind the crest.

 Chapter six, On the road, part one

    Arthur spent the evening alone. He didn''t care about being cold and miserable. Now he had proof that the official reports about Otherworld were less than accurate. If flora and fauna were identical, then that was somehow fine. Parallel universe, magic or divine intervention. If it was only partially identical, well that opened a totally different array of possibilities, and he fully understood why the government wanted to keep the lid on it for as long as possible. What Harbend called eagle had never existed on Earth, but most everything else was familiar. What if the finding of the Gate hadn''t been first contact at all?


    He needed to check his translations more carefully now, and observe more closely what he saw around him. The journey turned out to have more surprises than he''d thought from the beginning. After all he''d fled from pain rather than starting on a journey of exploration.


    Arthur studied his notepad where he''d written down his observations. Now he did have a deadline. The power cells would last him a year, maybe a couple of months more if he was careful. After that everything he''d written down would be gone until he could lay his hands on a power source unless he started to make paper copies.


    Plants, the thought sparked a nagging memory in him. Adding species could also mean subtracting them. Cotton! He remembered complaining about the lack of decent underwear. Of course cotton might grow unused, but they did have silk after all, even though what looked like silk could just as well come from some kind of spider for all he knew. He sighed. Too many guesses and too little real knowledge. Besides he was getting tired from reading and writing in the poor light of his wagon.


    He stripped, hung his wet clothes on a pole running the entire length of the wagon just beneath the waxed cloth covering it, and crept into the bedroll he bought in Roadbreak. Damn Harbend, planning a camping trip without buying a bedroll. Almost as if he''d been preparing for some kind of strange survival exercise.


    ***


    Again days came and went, two eightdays in total, and Arthur, true to himself, made an effort watching what grew, flew and walked in the landscape. He still wasn''t sure about plants and trees, but most animals previously unknown to him turned out to have wings with the exception of a large six legged lizard brought in for food.


    He spent a couple of hours each day trying to talk with the drivers and the men in the escort, but he made most progress with mother and daughter Termend. They weren''t as preoccupied as the rest, apart from when Chaijrild had cooking duty of course, and Lianin showed real interest in his questions. One even led to her taking up part of her old occupation as well. A complaint rather than a question, if he was honest, and recognizing an opportunity in the absence of taverns she converted one of her wagons into one.


    Knowledge is good for business, she once explained to him with the help of Harbend. Arthur liked them both, even though he found Chaijrild to be just a little bit too much of a flirt, but he gave her the rights of youth.


    The caravan passed through the entire length of Vimarin. They never saw anything larger than a village, but also very little real wilderness. Almost always farmed land was close by with the main difference from Keen being fewer horses and oxen used as beasts of burden instead.


    The dry yellow of late summer gave way to glittering gold and red of autumn. Then the landscape changed again, small groves in the open farmland became forests as they crossed yet another border.


    ***


    "Camp''s silent tonight," Trindai noted.


    "It''s the trees," Kalvar said.


    "Not much in the way of forests back home, unless you count the plantations around Krante."


    "Sir?"


    "You didn''t know? It''s all planted. Most forests in Erkateren are as well, but there''s a bastards lot more of it here."


    Major Terwin shrugged, but Trindai saw the discomfort in his eyes. He sympathized with his officer. Apart from a few missions on the Ming peninsula he had little enough experience with forested terrain himself. A few men under his command, all scouts of course, were familiar with the absence of free sight. They came in handy when rooting out troublemakers, but this was an escort mission and he didn''t expect to hunt down reluctant taxpayers or some hothead who''d inherited grand delusions together with a title when a family elder died in one of Keen''s client states.


    Stupid way of running things. Hereditary rights. Keen made away with the idiocy over seven eightyears earlier.


    "Darkness cursed work crossing the mountains," Kalvar said, interrupting Trindai''s thoughts.


    "Berdaler''s squadron will help, and we''re hiring more men in Ri Khi."


    "We need more than two squadrons, sir?"


    "With the political bribe accompanied with a choice set of lies we sent to Ri Nachi, yes," Trindai answered.


    "Sir, that was a little more information than I needed."


    Trindai growled. "Think like a commander, not like an officer! If I choke on the piss they call wine here you''re responsible for seeing this charade safely to Braka and back."


    "Right, sir!" Kalvar straightened, but he was smiling. "No one''s listening, so spit it all out," Kalvar demanded, "sir," he added almost as an afterthought.


    Trindai grinned back and started explaining. He''d give Major Berdaler the same information when they had some time alone.


    ***


    Maybe Erkateren wasn''t less populated than Vimarin, but with fewer farms and more woodlands it filled them with a sense of desolation. It was with some relief they reached the first of the towns along the road. They saw it after reaching a crest from where the road gently sloped downwards to open ground. The forest opened up and in the middle of a wide valley before them a walled town sat hugging a narrow river. A few stone houses rose above two stories wooden buildings that were in majority. The wall itself was more of a wooden stockade than a proper city wall, and Arthur guessed the town only housed a few thousand.


    Really nothing more than an over sized village.


    As they came closer he saw that people here favored leather and wool rather than the ever-present linen and occasional silk he was used to from Verd.


    Their presence caused great stirring here as well, but by now Arthur was used to it, and they needed to draw as much attention as possible or they would have to spend an extra day searching for traders. Now the traders would come looking for them instead.


    Passing the gates and entering narrow streets Arthur was first surprised to see them unpaved. Soon enough the ever present smell of manure told him the futility of such an effort. The magical cleanliness of Verd seemed more and more like a distant dream, and he noted the total absence of lampposts. That probably translated into the need of being indoors after dark, especially as the day was overcast. He didn''t want to stumble along the streets with only his hands as eyes.


    Inside the city walls he got a better view of the people strolling around the streets. Some of them looked old and bent, but he had traveled too much not to recognize the signs of hard work and what it did to the body if health care was lacking. He guessed them to be not much more than sixty, or even less. Hygiene, it had to be the stark contrast in cleanliness compared to Verd that did it. The town was dirty in a way he couldn''t have imagined if he hadn''t seen, or rather smelled, it for himself.


    He decided against strolling through the streets on his own and followed Harbend to an inn after they managed to get their animals stabled. It was built like the road inns they visited while still in Keen. A tavern in the bottom floor, behind stairs leading up to a narrow corridor feeding small rooms on the second floor. Dirtier than he remembered the road inns to be, but after long weeks on the road still a very welcome change having a real room with solid walls and a bed to sleep in.


    The woodwork, though, was magnificent. Walls, doors, everything of wood finely crafted, and his hopes for the furniture they were to buy here later soared. Someone must have put a lot of effort in finding wood already shaped as they wanted it, because he saw almost no seams anywhere.


    There was no bathhouse, but with the help of Harbend he managed to find a bathtub in the backyard, and as darkness fell they''d all taken turns in it to the great amusement of the stable boys.


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    ***


    "It''s beautiful!"


    "Now, do you believe me?"


    "Of course. I''ve seen its like in Verd, but do you think there''s enough to warrant a caravan?"


    "Gods! Arthur, Erkateren is famous for its furniture, famous for most everything that can be made out of wood."


    Arthur caressed the smooth, hard surface, adoring the gorgeous sheen and inlaid details. He stooped to examine the other chairs on display.


    "Damn! They''re almost identical all of them!"


    Harbend smiled. "And each a masterpiece."


    Arthur looked at the chairs again. They were perfect.


    "I don''t understand. The skill needed. How can there be so many carpenters here who can do it?"


    "We are not in Keen any longer."


    Arthur didn''t understand and fell silent.


    "Many artisans here are magecrafters. Limited in their knowledge, but magecrafters nonetheless," Harbend explained.


    "You mean they use magic?"


    "They do, but they only know how to work wood. Still, it enables them to remove flaws and change the wood to their needs. I fail to fully understand how, but the best furniture I have ever seen is made here."


    Arthur didn''t know what to say. Partially he''d been expecting magic, but thus far he''d seen nothing but alternatives to common engineering. Where was the real magic?


    "How much do you think they have to sell?" he asked after a while.


    "I hope some traders will join the caravan, but there should still be enough to fill eight or ten wagons. Add another twenty wagon''s worth of items of somewhat lower quality. More than we can load anyway."


    "I can see why you wanted to come here. This is what we should buy for the metal we sell here. You can''t imagine what people back on Earth would pay."


    "We?"


    "Eh, traders from Earth."


    "Sounds like an interesting market," Harbend said, a mixture of greed and thoughtfulness marking his voice. "Talking of which, I shall be needed for some interviews."


    Arthur smiled and watched Harbend leave.


    ***


    Harbend nodded at the woman facing him. He had difficulties understanding her. The dialect spoken in Erkateren was very different from the one he was used to from Hasselden and Verd. He rephrased his question.


    "Are we agreed that you shall pay the fee for each wagon you want to bring?"


    She looked at him and smiled. "Yes. I bring six wagons, yes? And pay for six, yes?"


    "Good. We leave tomorrow. From the gates."


    She nodded and left.


    They were using the town hall for the interviews. A new caravan to Braka qualified as an important event just as he had hoped. Now another five traders with a total of thirty-two new wagons had joined the caravan. Word must have gone ahead, and he only needed to send couriers to the four towns in Erkateren they wouldn''t visit.


    Harbend grinned. Arriving with a well armed escort had been the magic key. He''d expected more arguments, but in the end the local traders gave in easily enough. They needed another market, and he knew that. Keen, especially a slowly strangled Keen, wasn''t enough. Prices were already falling, and furniture, no matter how finely crafted didn''t pull ploughs. More importantly, the people here desperately needed iron for the making of those ploughs.


    With a bit of luck they might see the train swelled by another seventy wagons when they left Erkateren behind them. Add yet more wagons from Ri Khi joining them. He''d hired couriers for that mission earlier, and now there wasn''t much more to do. If he could bring a total of a hundred and twenty wagons to Braka the venture would break even, and after that, with wagons and horses already paid for, each caravan would bring a profit.


    ***


    Harbend stirred. Someone was knocking on the door. He got to his feet and stumbled in the darkness. When he opened the door he felt the scent of perfume.


    "Who is it?" he asked.


    "Shh, let me in." The voice carried the sensation of alcohol.


    "Chaijrild? What are you doing here?"


    "Don''t be a bore, let me in!"


    "No, I shall not do that. You should go to your mother''s room and sleep."


    "Don''t you tell me what to do or not. Let me in, or do you think I''m too ugly for you?"


    "Gods!" Harbend was momentarily at a loss for words. "You are very pretty and also very drunk. Now go away and get some sleep."


    A stinging sensation on his cheek told him his refusal hadn''t been well taken. She muttered something and staggered away in the darkness. He closed his door and returned to bed. It had been a long time since anyone tried to seduce him, not that he minded, but she was the daughter of a trading partner.


    ***


    Arthur woke to the sound of angry words. He left his bed and walked to his door. When he opened it and looked into the corridor it was empty save Harbend. A very angry Harbend.


    "What''s going on?" Arthur asked.


    "She came to my room last night and now she has bedded Captain Laiden."


    "Who did?"


    "Young Termend."


    "Oh, and now her mother''s in a fury?" Arthur didn''t like the consequences. An angry partner could stir up tensions later on, especially as this was the very first partner Harbend had signed on. "Why did you allow her in?"


    "I... I did not. Told her to get some sleep elsewhere."


    "Thank God! Then I can''t see the problem. She''s old enough to pick a partner among the rest, don''t you think?"


    "You fail to understand."


    "I understand perfectly. She felt spurned and went for second best. So? The only problem would''ve been if you''d slept with her."


    "But... Maybe you are right," Harbend finally grumbled.


    Arthur shook his head and reentered his room to get dressed. There was no point in trying to grab any sleep now. Dawn was breaking. They needed to be on the road as early as possible with all the additions to handle. He pulled on his boots and went in search for breakfast.


    ***


    The wagon train had definitely swelled with the hopeful traders who joined them. By now it looked like a caravan should according to Arthur''s childhood imagination. Of course, no camels and very little sand, but still. It took them the better part of the morning to leave Grendevrat behind them and it was time to make use of the men Harbend had hired the day before.

 Chapter six, On the road, part two

    They waved to the couriers.


    "Make good speed to Ri Nachi. We shall be waiting for you at the Roadhouse. Four eightdays from now, no more," Harbend shouted.


    He watched the riders vanishing on the north bound road while the wagon train continued eastwards.


    "You think we''ll see many of them?" Arthur asked Harbend as they started catching up with the wagons again.


    "Not sure. Dyed silks, toys and instruments usually, but with sea trade cut off they shall have little silk to dye." Nagging worries yelled at him for a moment. "Twenty wagons maybe. An addition." Unable to shrug the unease away he brought his horse to speed.


    They were one day behind schedule, which wasn''t too bad, but he knew bad luck could have them falling back much more and was eager to leave the Roadhouse before winter hit the mountains. An early snowstorm could force them to turn back and then they''d be stuck at the Roadhouse for the entire winter. That was his greatest fear. One winter without moving and he was sure to lose most of the traders who signed on.


    The next eightdays saw them passing through two more of the seven towns in Erkateren. The wagon train swelled at each town and Harbend had to prepare the Roadhouse for the huge amount of people and animals they brought. That meant riding in advance and he invited Arthur to accompany him two days after they crossed Erkateren''s eastern border.


    ***


    They took off in the morning, Arthur, Harbend, six horses and one wagon. Harbend drove. Arthur looked back, watching the wagons behind them until the road took a turn and they were between trees again. He enjoyed the silence, broken only by the creaking of wagon wheels and the muted sound of hoofs hitting dirt beneath them. About to ask Harbend how much time they needed to spend on the road a smattering from above caught his attention. He looked up but didn''t see anything. Behind him Harbend halted the wagon.


    "Rain. You better get your cloak," Harbend said.


    Arthur just sat in his saddle. "But I don''t feel any raindrops."


    "You will. The leaves are sheltering us. Hurry up!"


    Arthur obeyed and climbed into the wagon in search for his chest. He found his cloak and grabbed Harbend''s on his way out. They both got into the heavy leather and strung felt hats to their necks. Arthur still didn''t feel much of the rain, but then the wind caught up and started shaking the canopy above them, and within moments cold water poured down. Arthur yelled in surprise but Harbend only guffawed in response.


    Half a day later, with wet clothes and a cold wind chilling them through whenever they rode out from between sheltering trees, their mood had changed for the worse. It didn''t help that Harbend started whining about his relations with the Termend women and the infidelity of the daughter. Not able to believe what he was hearing Arthur eventually couldn''t stay silent any longer.


    "So, you turned her down and she slept with the captain instead. What''s the matter? She''s hardly your property. Don''t you think I haven''t seen you look at anyone who''s not a fellow merchant as if they were nothing but servants or someone you could squeeze a good price from?"


    "You fail to understand. I would..."


    "If you say you''d have paid well I''ll bloody smash your face in!" Arthur interrupted.


    "I was not thinking anything like it!"


    "Oh, no. Probably only something like taking good care of her, or making sure she gets a good life, or something else where the solution is money. Can''t you see that not everyone values life in coins?"


    Harbend colored. "Do you not value money and the freedom it brings?"


    "Hell, no! My money bought me a golden prison for twenty years. I didn''t own my money. It owned me, or rather any source of wealth owned me. For the first time I''m deciding what to do with it." Hearing his own words Arthur finally accepted that such understanding had taken him a journey to another world to reach.


    "And now you have the resources to do so," Harbend said with a quality of whining to his voice Arthur didn''t care for.


    "I stopped caring about my so called resources four years before I decided to come here, and I don''t bloody plan on allowing them to run my life again."


    There was no response. Harbend just gave him a sullen glare and they didn''t speak with each other after that.


    He didn''t understand why Harbend had even breached the subject. Chaijrild was still only a child and Harbend had done right by refusing to share his bed with her. Arthur didn''t even want to think about the problems they would''ve had with her mother if it had become known that the master of the caravan took advantage of his position in that way.


    You did right. No bloody reason to start sulking now!


    They continued in uncomfortable silence all the afternoon and early evening.


    ***


    Setting camp turned out being more difficult than they had imagined, mostly because of a hard wind threatening to carry away anything not nailed to the ground. At least the rain had subsided, but Harbend was still miserable, cold and wet. It took several, frustrating failures to build a small fire. If it rained for a few days more finding dry twigs to mix with the tinder he''d brought would become increasingly difficult, but that was a problem yet to come.


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    He looked at Arthur in sullen silence. Arthur''s earlier rebuke still stung, and as he had chosen to remain silent for the entire afternoon neither of the men''s moods improved. Being tired and hungry after climbing the narrow track in drizzling rain hadn''t helped neither, but Harbend bit back on his irritation while they were still on the road. Now, when they had finally managed to get their camp in order he turned to his companion feeling a childish need for petty revenge.


    "So, I understand you got tired of being everyones'' property, but it still fails to make sense," Harbend said as if half a day hadn''t passed since any of them last spoke.


    Arthur gave him a tired look but refrained from answering.


    "I fail to understand. You are, what, fifty-five years old but from what you have told me earlier you tired of your fame almost five years ago," Harbend continued. "Then just one day you take off for a journey that may last for years. Do you not feel any responsibility? At your age you should have a woman and children." He suddenly saw raw pain in Arthur''s face, but resentment forced the rest of the words into the air. "Do you not care about the family you left behind you in your heartless selfishness?"


    Arthur was silent. With a sinking feeling Harbend knew he shouldn''t have finished his accusations. Rather than wait for a defensive outburst he vanished into the wood gathering more firewood as an excuse to be gone from their camp. As darkness had fallen so had the wind and in the heavy underbrush beside the track getting a fair amount of dry wood was easy work and he soon had to return to the fireplace.


    Arthur was still sitting in the same place and he was crying silently, tear brimmed eyes reflecting the flames. Harbend sat down, sharing the silence and waiting for the explanation he knew would eventually come. He added some sticks to the fire for extra light and warmth and started rummaging through their bags for some food when Arthur suddenly rose.


    "I did care for my family, you know," he said and spread his arms as if excusing himself. "Five years ago my wife and son died in an accident. I almost gave up then, but I still had my daughter to care about so I continued with my shows." He took a few steps around the fire before resuming his words. "Much later I got to know a competing newscaster wanted me out and that it hadn''t been an accident."


    "How do you know?" Harbend asked.


    "They thought I would be so caught up in my grief I simply had to quit."


    "But how do you know?" Harbend repeated, this time with a feeling of unease.


    "They killed my daughter half a year ago."


    A coldness like a blanket of ice ran down Harbend''s face and he knew all color must have left it. "Gods! How old was she?"


    "Ten."


    Harbend didn''t have any children of his own, but his sister did. He turned to Arthur, a question still unanswered, but Arthur answered him before it could be voiced.


    "They sent me pictures from both kills to make sure I understood the message."


    "I am sorry," Harbend said suddenly at a loss for ways to express his sympathy. He mentally groped for words with which to wash away his shame, but none came forth. He had duped his friend to reveal a painful secret, no not just duped but forced him into submission. And it had been wrong and ugly to do so.


    ***


    That night Arthur slept better, even though he wept from time to time. It hurt, but it was like a festering wound opening, and even though he didn''t understand it himself he was taking a giant leap towards healing. He dreamed of his dead family. This time, though, the dreams weren''t nightmares but memories from a time when they had been laughing together and nothing bad seemed possible.


    He woke early, stiff and cold in the morning. As the days grew shorter each morning seemed to be a little colder and a little more damp than the one before. A long day lay ahead of them. It would be a harsh ride with very little to eat, but the prospect of a hot meal, a warm bath, and a soft bed was alluring enough to bring a thin smile to his lips.


    Dreaming of his loved ones had soothed him somewhat. It still hurt, would probably always hurt, but at least he admitted he was in pain, and healing took yet another step forward. Maybe coming here was the preparation he needed, more so than Harbend''s outburst the night before, maybe not, but with healing pain as a companion he finally allowed himself to journey to another world, an inner one but more exciting than any a space ship could reach.


    He checked his horses while Harbend went over their wagon. One wagon and six horses. Arthur was glad it would be over after the day. He hadn''t understood how much work the wagons added until now.


    The mare he saddled whinnied and he gently stroked her. She''d turned out being just as easy to ride as he''d hoped. He started whistling and was still whistling when he was finished and ready to take to the road again.


    Harbend gave him a suspicious look, but Arthur just grinned as he helped his friend. They didn''t talk, but the mistrust from the day before was gone, and with rising spirits they started moving.

 Intermezzo

    Mairild de Felder, member of the Council of Twelve, Minister of Arts and as such, by tradition, Spy Master of Keen, turned to the two men waiting for her to continue.


    "Glarien de Verd, we appreciate that you''ve decided to give this piece of information to us. We appreciate it even if you''ve allowed most of a season to pass before coming to your senses."


    The Master of Merchants cringed visibly under her icy stare.


    "However, fortunately not all need as much time as you to receive the gift of understanding, and we''ve been quite aware of the problem since just after the failed attempt to murder an official guest of the state."


    Glarien rose from his chair and started to protest but sat down immediately again.


    "Olvar de Saiden, by happenstance the namesake of one of your most valued houses, has been able to act upon the information we''ve gathered."


    "Madame." Olvar de Saiden, another member of the Council of Twelve and Minister of War, stood. He was a giant among men, but only a fool mistook his size for that of an idiot''s. In fact his knowledge of matters military far outweighed his massive body. "Master de Verd, the actual reason you''re here is to receive information, not to gift us with any. You''re to act upon the information with the utmost discretion and yet use it to help both the new house de Garak as well as the outworlder Arthur Wallman in any way you can. This is a direct order from the Council of Twelve. Have I made myself clear?"


    Glarien squirmed. "Yes, absolutely clear."


    "Madame."


    "Thank you, Olvar." Mairild smiled warmly at her colleague. "The outworlders have landed an armored group here. They left the restricted area immediately. Consider each of them wearing your choice of legendary High Kordic Armour from the ancient wars with Gaz."


    "They use magic, in Keen?"


    "Not magic, but with their engineering knowledge it could as well be. Now, they also carry weapons of great destruction. As a group they could easily take on any ship raiding our coasts, from a range out of reach of their cannons. They are searching for this Arthur Wallman of theirs. You are to make sure they search the coast for as long as it takes them to be attacked by a raiding group. With some luck they should be able to sink every ship in it." This plan was, as usual, Olvar''s, but she doubted Glarien cared.


    "I don''t like this dangerous politics of yours," Glarien protested.


    "Your dislike has been noted. However, you''re not here to approve of the decisions of your superiors, but to carry out our orders." Once again Mairild''s voice cooled. "To ease your conscience I have decided to tell you that the mercenaries Harbend de Garak hired should be more than able to protect his caravan."


    "How would you know?"


    "The escort captain is Trindai de Laiden. A colonel originally from the assault cavalry."


    "Originally?"


    "Minister Saiden had him transferred to our joint forces. Colonel de Laiden is in charge of our two escort squadrons. We made certain that Harbend de Garak only hired men from those squadrons. All of them to be more precise. He just doesn''t know it yet, but he''ll get additional troops when he reaches the Roadhouse."


    "I''m afraid the units are unfamiliar to me," Glarien responded.


    Mairild decided an explanation couldn''t hurt. The expedition was for upholding the trust in Keen''s ability to keep up trade after all. "We move a few men from our regular forces each year. Those who are better suited to irregular operations are transferred to special units. This is one."


    This time she saw understanding in Glarien''s face. An improvement, but she guessed he hadn''t reached his position by being stupid. She wasn''t going to try bullying him in a situation where items of great value changed owner. Especially not as he was the most likely replacement to the rapidly aging Minister of Commerce, not that she would ever tell Glarien of the council''s preparations in advance.


    "So, you''re making de Garak''s caravan a military operation without telling him?"


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    "Yes, for your benefit as well. We need that source of metal. What the outworlders bring here is simply not enough now that the sea lanes are cut off. We intend to make this caravan route permanent even if the westerners cease harassing us."


    "Ah, that would be excellent!" Glarien exclaimed in a voice telling her exactly how much, or rather how little, he valued the prospect of slow caravans between Braka and Keen.


    But you''re diplomatic enough when you need. Yes, definitely the strongest candidate to become one of us. I can see why you''d like the independent traders caught up in the middle of nowhere where they don''t compete with you. "I''m happy you approve of this part of our plans at least," she said instead. "You may leave us now."


    She watched the doors close behind Glarien de Verd and waited another few moments. A narrow door opened behind her.


    "Duke Garak, you are welcome."


    "You honor me Madame. The correct title is Clan master Garak, Ramdar of Traders, if you absolutely have to be formal." The old man grinned at her.


    "No need." She smiled. "We were worried when the outworlders tried to have you assassinated, even if it was Arthur Wallman who was their target. I never saw that coming."


    "Do not lie to me. We both knew this could happen sooner or later, even if it may have taken me a few days longer to reach that conclusion." He glared at her. "I have hidden from my own nephew in this very city for more than half a year without him ever suspecting it for a moment. You underestimate me."


    "I never would."


    "At least you never should." Ramdar changed his tone to a more businesslike one. "Our contacts in Khanati and Rhuin are ready to move, but you have to give the order. It is your territory after all."


    "I know, but I never expected it to come to this so soon," she sighed.


    "That may be true, but now you have outworlders interfering here. You shall never get this chance again."


    Mairild groaned silently. She was playing a dangerous game, but the situation had become far too desperate. Another two years of naval blockade and Keen would see riots and worse for the first time in a century.


    "So be it. You may tell Rhuin they can use the Amonrasuk on our territory. I''ll invite the Hand of Wrath from Khanati."


    "Thank you for that decision. I honor your courage."


    "There is no honor, only need. I have set Glarien de Verd on a mission to keep the outworlder unit running along our coast. Don''t use that route."


    Ramdar laughed. "Now, that was a dirty trick! Thank you!"


    "Don''t laugh too much. The sky ship that brought your assassins didn''t carry many real outworlder traders. They tried to sneak in another four spies as well. I had them well received and sent them on their way south."


    "South, but the highway south ends at the Narrow Sea?"


    "Oh dear, how clumsy of me. With a bit of luck they''ll take up swimming lessons in a couple of eightdays or so."


    "That was particularly nasty," Ramdar acknowledged. "Remind me to warn you before I send an informer here who is not already well acquainted with the land."


    Mairild took no note of his comment. "You should be able to destroy the raider fleet in the Narrow Sea while the rest of their ships are busy handling outworlder weapons between Dagd and Hasselden. Olvar will have you informed when you can move your joint forces there." Mairild bowed as if finished, but on an impulse she changed her mind. "Send in your magehealers as well. There''s going to be more mages in Keen than we''ve seen here for six hundred years, and a lot of people will be hurt. I''m not going to compromise our promise to the gods without at least having some of the benefits of the forbidden magic here as well."

 Chapter seven, The Roadhouse, part one

    Late in the evening Arthur and Harbend finally made their way to the gates. From a distance it looked like a small fortress on a low hill, but now the walls loomed over them like a dark giant.


    A cold wind had been tearing into them since darkness fell and it was only thanks to their warm clothing they weren''t chilled through.


    The stone walls seemed impregnable and impossibly high. Climbing the winding road Arthur realized it was far steeper than he first imagined. No trees or cliffs to hide behind and anyone on the walls would be able to spot travelers long before they were close to the gate. Arthur guessed anyone on the walls would be able to do much more than that.


    Like pointing something sharp at me. And I''d never even know what happened.


    "There at last," Harbend muttered. He turned to his companion and smiled. "During wartime they would have hailed us a long time ago." Accent still peculiar, but his grasp of English far better than Arthur''s fledgling attempts at De Vhatic. "We are a bit later than I would have liked," Harbend continued, smiling. Arthur groaned silently at the understatement. "Let us hope they still have rooms for us. Otherwise I guess we shall have to make do with the stables. Well, first we need to find out if they will even open the gate at such a late hour."


    This time Arthur groaned loudly. His legs ached from the long ascent and he was ravenously hungry. Horses tired as well -- he''d been more or less forced to pull his disobedient animal the last kilometer. He gave Harbend a sour look and was met by a teasing grin.


    Harbend knocked on the gates, still smiling, and within moments they swung open soundlessly, revealing a narrow courtyard and two armed men. They quickly waved the weary travelers through and into the walled space where yet another gate beckoned. They passed the second gate and were inside the walls.


    Arthur sighed with relief and noted how much he''d missed being in a town where he didn''t have to rely on moonlight or a travelers lamp. A man arrived and Arthur listened to a smattering of words exchanged between Harbend and the groom. After that a few coins changed hands and their horses were led away.


    "What about the wagon?" Arthur asked.


    "Will be taken care of," Harbend answered. "Now we should concentrate on a hot bath, an evening meal and a warm bed. Enjoy yourself. You have traveled better than I dared hope, so you are entitled to a good time now."


    Arthur knew embarrassment then. He was being praised for doing something Harbend probably saw as just another unavoidable part of life as a traveling merchant.


    "No, I mean it," Harbend said as if guessing Arthur''s thoughts. "Most people from Verd would not be able to handle themselves during a long journey. You told me you live in a city in your world so I expected you to behave like one city born. I am happy to say that you are a fast learner."


    "Thank you, I guess," Arthur stammered, uncertain of what to say. He still felt uncomfortable, but something in him very much enjoyed Harbend''s acceptance and in the end he just smiled gratefully.


    For a while he just stood there, silent, remembering the journey and taking in his surroundings. Stables nearby, to their left, and men talking while grooming their horses. At least he assumed it was their horses. The pungent smell of manure almost welcoming, a reminder they were no longer forced to sleep with the sky as their ceiling. To his right a closed store, its wooden shutters telling him it was very late and that he ought to find a place indoors. Stomach loudly agreeing he caused Harbend to give him an amused look before leading him towards the houses further away.


    Most small one and two stories buildings. Having expected a fortress Arthur was not prepared for the mass of wooden houses, some even with thatched roofs. A few of the buildings they passed were erected by simply laying layers of logs on top of each other and sealed with what Arthur thought was moss, but most the work of a proper carpenter, some even displaying large, glassed windows. He noted lamps of the same kind as those used in Verd, only much smaller, and it was all too clear that this was not the bustling city he''d spent his first few weeks in. Neither noise nor smell those of a large city and the narrow streets almost deserted. He slowly understood that the nightlife making Verd strangely familiar to him also made it very unique in this world.


    They rounded a corner. Arthur almost knocked over a couple of empty barrels left for the night and Harbend stepped under an archway leading to a closed door. Without knocking he pushed it open and entered. Arthur followed him into a corridor ending in a large room with several rough tables and chairs along three of the walls. The smell of spicy food was strong here and Arthur''s mouth watered as his stomach once again loudly complained about dinner being far too late.


    The ceiling was awkwardly low and forced him to bend to avoid banging his head on the beams as they made their way further into the room. Less than half the tables occupied. Apparently most of the diners had already finished and gone to sleep. A few heads rose to see the newcomers but no one seemed to recognize him.


    Arthur sat down at a table, waiting for Harbend to place their orders.


    Even before Harbend was finished talking with the bearded man in the kitchen a serving girl came up to the table with a jug and two glasses. Pretty, with a slightly exotic face Arthur couldn''t place, wearing a brown, woolen jacket and a heavy, striped skirt from under which a pair of no nonsense boots protruded. He smiled at her.


    "Many great thanks... your services to me welcome," he said to her and shrugged apologetically when she didn''t seem to understand. Watching her depart he slowly became aware of the room being far warmer than the night outdoors and he pulled off his heavy coat. He''d just placed it on an empty chair when Harbend returned to the table.


    "They have rooms for the night. One for us each, and there is a bath house just behind the kitchen. If you want we can get clean before we eat." Harbend was still pointing at the door next to the kitchen.


    Arthur, even though famished, began to realize how dirty he was, tiredly left his chair, grabbed his bag, slung the coat over his shoulders and staggered away in the suggested direction. The stone floor felt very hard to feet almost adjusted to the thought of resting and his hips ached from a long day spent riding and walking.


    The bath was heaven.


    ***


    Harbend smiled at the sight of his friend shoveling food into his mouth. A full season after his arrival he no longer looked like a festival clown. Hair showing a lot of brown beneath the faded blue and a face now belonging to someone in good shape. Most of the fat had gone and muscles were building. Harbend was surprised a man of Arthur''s age could trim his body so fast. Some of the lines criss crossing his face were gone but others had come in their stead. There was more determination to be read there now, a stability grown during the journey.


    Harbend was more than content with the events leading to him being coerced into bringing such a strange friend along on the journey. Smiling Harbend paid some attention to his own food. The smell of peppers, salt and mutton made him dig his knife into the stew. Only after stilling his worst hunger did he feel how boiled tomatoes and horseradish mixed with local spices added life to the meat.


    He leaned back, raised his glass and drank a deep draught of wine. A decent wine, nothing special, but not the awful swill too often served when one left the main roads in Keen.


    Looking up he saw traces of soot on the ceiling revealing the presence of a large fireplace hidden around a corner where his eyes couldn''t reach. Wherever it was, it evidently saw much use during winter.


    Late evening broke into full night and he guessed the innkeeper wanted them to depart for their rooms. They both swallowed the last of their wine, thanked him and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Harbend bade Arthur goodnight and made for his room.


    It was small but clean. A narrow bed with a brown, woolen blanket clung to a wall and in the only window he saw his own features reflected in the imperfect glass. The walls were bare apart from a hanger for his lamp and in a corner a small wardrobe hid in the shadows.


    He quickly undressed and rather than spend time hanging his clothes in the wardrobe he simply threw them in a disorderly pile on a lonely chair standing beside a worn table. Almost naked he blew out the lamp, fumbled for his bed and lay down on linen sheets. Shortly afterward sleep claimed him.


    ***


    "Are you sure there have been no travelers from Ri Khi here the last eightday or so?"


    "I''m sorry. Can''t help you there sir. Only local hunters and a peddler from Erkateren."


    Harbend swore silently. So much for that addition. Well, it couldn''t be helped. The wagon train was still almost as large as he''d hoped for when he started planning back in Verd. He smiled at the merchant.


    "I shall buy one barrel of salt and as much dried meat as you have."


    "Sir? That''s more than a wagon''s worth."


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    "I have a wagon train coming in two days from now."


    "Wagon train, sir?"


    "Yes, we are bound for the mountains later. I am reopening the caravan route to Braka."


    The small man stared at Harbend as if struck.


    "But that''s fantastic, sir!"


    "Yes, yes, could you spread the word. Over a hundred wagons coming in. A lot of hungry men and women. Horses that needs tending."


    "Will do, sir. Most certainly!"


    A glimmer of greed suddenly flared in the eyes of the local merchant. It couldn''t be helped. They''d need the people here to start preparing to feed and lodge more men and horses than any of them had ever seen in this place. He had to talk with the innkeeper to get to know which houses could take in guests for a few nights, and of course to prepare the residents to take up cooking as a temporary profession for the same time.


    ***


    "What''s that?" Arthur said as they passed a door just before their own inn. It had a sign hanging over it he didn''t recognize.


    Harbend threw a glance in the direction Arthur pointed. "That is the Taleweaver''s Inn."


    Arthur was perplexed, trying to remember, and Harbend laughed.


    "Yes, you have heard the expression earlier. Remember our last evening in Verd?"


    "Yes, but we didn''t go to a place with this sign there."


    "There is one, but you are right. We did not. I told you about tales and their value."


    Now Arthur remembered. "But that''s bloody marvelous! Why don''t we go in and listen to a tale here then?"


    "Because we cannot. It is open only for those in the profession."


    "Oh. Wait a minute. Damn it, I''m of that profession." Arthur saw Harbend''s expression. "Sorry, minute, measurement of time in English. About the time it takes you to walk a hundred paces." Harbend still wore that look on his face. "What is it?" Arthur asked.


    "I know what a minute is, approximately at least, but you are saying you should be allowed into a Taleweaver''s Inn. Now that is what I call overconfidence."


    Arthur felt resentment rankling in him. "Now my dear Harbend de Garak, merchant superior with your own trading house. I''m Arthur Wallman. I entertain with words of wonder. Whenever one of my shows is displayed back home more people watch it than live on this world. My Golden Secret shows have an audience so large the total number of souls that ever inhabited this planet from times forgotten to today doesn''t even come close." The tingling of excitement that usually came just before a performance suddenly crept through him. "Where I come from I''m not just a taleweaver. I''m the taleweaver all rising stars are compared with in the feeble hopes they may ever ascend to my status."


    Harbend backed away and Arthur resolutely knocked on the door. It opened and he saw a wrinkled face peering out at him.


    "What do you want here?" The question was basic enough to understand even though it had been spoken in De Vhatic.


    Arthur turned to Harbend. "I could need some help with translation."


    "Forget it," Harbend answered and shook his head. "If you fail to even make yourself understood well enough to be let in then you should not be let in at all. I shall have a meal." He quickly vanished into the doorway to their own inn.


    Arthur started to feel stupid. How did he expect to understand anything told even if he was allowed inside? Damn! He''d show Harbend anyway.


    "My wish license to enter."


    "This ... is open for ... only. You ... not enter."


    Arthur considered giving up, but persistence wouldn''t allow him.


    "I ..." He searched his mind. "I taleweaver by profession. My wish to enter."


    The old man in the doorway gave him a look filled with scorn, but he did step aside to give room for Arthur. He entered.


    "Now, bold stranger, would you care to explain that obvious lie to me."


    Arthur started. The words were in English. No they weren''t, only as if they''d been spoken in English, but he somehow knew he was hearing De Vhatic as if it had been his own native language.


    "How? Why?"


    "You come to our door with a ridiculous claim, and you want to ask questions?" The face split in a smile. "The edict forces me to allow entrance to anyone who claims to carry tales, so come in. Who are you to speak a language I don''t know? Not De Vhatic, nor Khi or Kordic. With your face you could have spoken Hirgish, Kastarian or even Vratistaric unlikely as that may be, because you don''t look like the son of a hunter of the seas. However, you use none of those tongues, so I must assume you are one of those we call outworlders."


    Arthur listened to the convoluted question. "I''m from Earth, yes," he answered after a while. "My name is Arthur Wallman. Before I came here I ran a newscaster with myself as the anchor. Before that I made my living, a very successful living, mind you, talking in front of a camera."


    The man looked confused, and for a while Arthur was afraid whatever magic worked this place didn''t handle English.


    "I understand what you''re saying, yet not. The knowledge of concepts cannot be translated to the mind unless grabbed, but that''s a violation not to be committed by anyone."


    Arthur wasn''t sure he''d understood fully, but it made sense that some things he took for granted wouldn''t be understandable even if his words for them were.


    "I am what you call a taleweaver in my own world." He had to hope the explanation would do. The language magic here was a wondrous thing. Maybe he''d be able to chat with some locals after listening to a story or two.


    He remembered something Harbend had said earlier. Damn you! There was a place like this in Verd. A place where he could have made himself understood, but then again, William Anderson had made it quite clear that was exactly what the merchant houses didn''t want.


    They went further into the building, passing through the narrow corridor Arthur had seen in all inns and entered the actual tavern. A few window slits allowed daylight into the room and he saw there were very few tables. All chairs were aligned in one direction, and he saw what could best be described as a small stage rising slightly from the floor. A fireplace was to the left of him and he guessed it shared the same chimney as the one in his own inn. The stage began just beside it.


    They were alone.


    "Doesn''t seem to be a lot of traffic here," Arthur commented slightly disappointed.


    "Rest assured that this room will be full long before nightfall." There was an evil glint to the man''s voice, but Arthur decided not make anything out of it. He''d more or less barged his way in here anyway.


    "You wouldn''t by chance serve meals in here? Being a tavern and all I mean."


    "Your meal is ready and will be served shortly."


    "Thank you. I guess it''ll be a surprise." Arthur smirked. He didn''t fancy cold food, but he wouldn''t start complaining now.


    The man said nothing. He bowed and disappeared, probably to stand watch by the door again, Arthur guessed.


    It was a strange place. The tables were more elegant than he''d have suspected from a tavern. The one in the inn where he lived had simpler furniture even though they were of high quality, but he wouldn''t have expected less this close to Erkateren. Here he was sitting on chairs as exclusive as anything they were bringing to Braka, leaning his arms on a table in the same style. The walls were bare, but the woodwork was decoration enough.


    He sat there admiring the workmanship when he heard a noise and looked up. The same serving girl he''d seen the previous evening came with his food. Sensible thing to share personnel, he thought. She set the large plate on his table and he gaped in disbelief. A T-bone steak made exactly like he wanted stared up at him from its place on the plate, simmering in a spicy sauce. There was no way anyone could have cooked the meal this fast, and he''d never even said anything about what he wanted.

 Chapter seven, The Roadhouse, part two

    "Master Achnai, a message from the Roadhouse. An outworlder taleweaver will share the joining there."


    Trai er Achnai Khar looked up from the scroll he''d just finished.


    "You bring marvelous, wonderful news. Tell Escha I''ll be at the jump tower as soon as I can walk there."


    Trai ran from the room. Outworlder taleweaver, now that was news indeed. He took the steps three at a time and continued into the night. This was going to be a very long night. He''d only planned to finish his scroll before going to sleep when Eri, his seneschal, came with the news, and Erkateren was on the other side of the continent. It would still be light when he arrived there, and he was well aware of the time it took for the body to adjust to such a long travel westwards.


    He sat waiting on the jump shield when Escha arrived. Lovely Escha, more than a brother and a friend, gorgeous in his slender strength and unmarred body. Unmarred in difference from Trai who bore the marks of every fiery spell gone astray. He sighed at the sight of his heart mate, his perfect slave and the most powerful of all Jump Khars in Khanati.


    Master and slave since ten years, bond brothers for seven and lovers for four, they jumped five times to arrive in Ira, the width of a continent to the west, and Escha only needed a short rest there before casting the spell just a handful ever dared and only he mastered. Trai marveled at the power streaming through them both when Escha unleashed the mighty word that bore them all the way north from Ira to Erkateren unaided by any receiving jump tower.


    ***


    Arthur noted how people started to arrive. He saw a maddening variety of clothes, but four of the arrivals almost sent him screaming through the door. One resembled a nightmarish carnivorous gorilla, large tusks clearly meant for ripping meat apart, and Arthur was already rising from his seat when he registered that no one else seemed to care. The other three shorter, standing barely a meter in height. Something primitive in Arthur''s mind yelled at him to run and hide.


    Damn, they''re scaring everyone else as well!


    Three walking lizards, scales glimmering and each wearing a perpetual grin showing long lines of sharp teeth.


    Arthur fought down the ghost in his mind, a ghost helping his ancestors to survive long before they could even grasp the concept of mankind. The sight of sentient reptiles made him want to crawl away never to be noticed by them.


    "Such audacity!" a voice behind him hissed.


    He turned and saw the giant ape glaring at the lizards. Even though he understood what it had said he also realized it had spoken in a language he''d never heard before.


    "Why is that?" he asked in an attempt to bite down on his rising panic.


    "Raiders from the west. You''re lucky not to have seen them before. They burn and kill. Only good teeth or the gift of tale telling will save you."


    So that was it. The naval blockade that made Harbend swear. Arthur groaned at the irony. The very reason making it possible for him to escape returning home was here making him long desperately for the safety of Earth. He shuddered, but curiosity got the better of him.


    "But if they are raiders from across the sea, how can they be here now?"


    "A very good question, very good indeed. You have raised an issue that needs looking into," the ape answered as if Arthur had revealed an important secret.


    He was about to rephrase his question when a surge of air and a soft boom caught his attention. Two men materialized out of thin air on the floor just across the table. They had their backs to him but still sat down on a chair each as if they had known beforehand they would be there.


    "What the bloody hell..."


    Arthur was cut short. "Escha! By the thousand gods, you never jump inside a building!" A black skinned woman in shirt and skirt, both the color of bone, closed in on the table. Fury shone from her eyes.


    "What a darling reception! So fiery yet so to the point," the leftmost backside spoke. Arthur still hadn''t seen their faces.


    "Are you totally out of your mind? You could have killed us all you idiot!"


    "Ah, you''re so beautiful when you show your feelings. There has to be certain advantages to living so close to the ocean, so far from the jungle. Darling, you have to send my greetings to your relatives in the trees there."


    "You Grank" Arthur heard the word but didn''t understand it anyway. "smelling soldier''s whore! I''ll tear your lungs out of your perfumed body!" A spinning wheel of static charges started to form between her outstretched hands.


    "Enough!" The roar silenced the room. Arthur reeled from the pain inside his head. The old man who''d received Arthur stood in the doorway. "You''ll not use the gift while in a Taleweaver''s Inn, or, by the gods, I''ll have your name struck from history and your life''s content undone for all generations to come!"


    Now that''s a way of threatening someone! Arthur had to admire the man.


    "You, Trai, stop harassing the woman! You''ll not bring your petty war here! If all men were like you there''d be no Khanati today."


    Not a single word was spoken for a long while, and the serving girl busied herself with bringing food to the latest newcomers. As always she brought it long before it could humanly have been cooked, but Arthur had already seen something impossible this evening and his sense of wonder was dulled. Only after all had eaten did the visitors start to exchange polite smalltalk with each other, but they were soon interrupted by the old man who climbed the stage beside the fireplace.


    "I have sent the calling required by the edict, and tonight is more than a mere storytellers night. More even than the gracing of a traveling tale teller. Today we are visited by no less than a self appointed taleweaver. Unknown to all of us this outworlder comes with the gift to share with us, unknown as of yet, but after he has Woven he shall most assuredly be well known amongst us all."


    Arthur smiled despite the insult. If mister senile wanted to play a game then he would get one.


    Arrogant bastard! So, no bloody being nice. He''d give them one of his Golden Secret shows. First rate, no cheating. He rose and entered the stage.


    Pity I don''t have my crew here. Well it can''t be helped. I''ll just pretend. Cameras four and five, pan in, steady, slow forward and time for the perfect smile. "Welcome, welcome, ladies and gentlemen. I welcome the rest of you as well." That brought laughter from all but the three lizards. They only stared at him with their cold, hungry eyes. "I am indeed what you call an outworlder, and as such I share my name with others of my kind." By now Arthur knew the story he would tell, and he closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again he was once again in the familiar landscape of between, the place he needed to be in whenever he wanted to bring a listener into what he told, and he knew that this would indeed be one of his Golden Secret shows.


    "This is a tale from ancient times, but not from the history you know. Long before we came here we learned to treasure the legends from times when maybe things were as here, yet different in many ways. It was a time when the old had to give way to the new. This is the tale of a hero and a king, but it really begins with his father. Now it should be known that Uther Pendragon had fought a long and bloody war."


    Arthur spoke, and it was as when he stood before a camera those early years when he still had to prove himself, and as he had done then he climbed into himself, immersed himself in his own words so that he was more a vessel from which they poured rather than actively choosing between them.


    He heard mighty Merlin help Uther with his betrayal. He was there, watching a Camelot that had never existed, yet it was real for him. Unseen he walked its great halls listening to secret meetings. He was flying like a falcon disturbed in its hunt by the thunder of two shining men clashing into each other, each carrying a lance one of which broke. He saw the queen torn between love and loyalty, and he knew the moment when love won and gave birth to yet another betrayal. The murder of children haunted him, tore his heart apart, and he was aghast to learn the evil deed had done nothing to prevent what was foretold. Sitting, crying, on the battlefield where the kingdom was broken.


    Standing, standing in a room where window slits allowed a gray dawn to enter and bring cold light to replace the fire that had slumped to nothing more than red embers. There was an eerie silence where each breath was a barely audible acclaim to the legend itself. Faces unmoving in a land between worlds, still living out the destiny of the greatest king who had never lived.


    He had emptied an entire jug of watered wine without noticing. A little drunk and tired beyond reasoning, he was, like the jug, a vessel spent.


    And silence. I can hear them breathing, afraid to break the spell. Like statues.


    Arthur staggered towards the door glancing at the faces in front of him. They were all sharing the same expression of awe and a little fear, and he knew he must have put on one of the best shows in his life.


    "I have never for thirty years... not since Master de Ghera." It was the old man who had tried to deny him entrance the night before. Only this time he was whispering in a voice suiting him far better than the arrogance only an ignorant man could show.


    "I told you I was a taleweaver by profession where I come from," Arthur said, satisfied he''d made a proper impact on his audience. He smiled despite his fatigue, and on weak legs went in search for his bed.


    ***


    Harbend stared in utter disbelief as wagons arrived through the gates. He hadn''t expected the train to arrive for another day and was mildly surprised when the calls went out from the battlements. The creaking train that arrived was not the one he had left. The wagons were those he hoped would join from Ri Khi, and he was still watching them arrive through the gates when darkness finally fell. No planning could have prepared the people here for this. Almost two hundred wagons, and they were still passing through the gates when he was forced to go inside for a meeting with the traders joining the caravan.


    ***


    "Well met, Lord de Garak."


    Harbend looked up. The evening had turned into a bedlam and people were running and yelling, grooms desperately trying to stable all horses and the commander of the fortress occupied in a screaming contest with the master of the caravan about whether or not to let all two hundred wagons stay within the walls. Of course Harbend was made responsible for it all, and a moment earlier he''d been standing with his face in his hands after receiving a verbal beating when he explained that another hundred wagons were to be expected next day.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    He gave the stranger a tired look. At least she was speaking Khi with the unmistakable dialect of those living in Ri Khi.


    "Well met honored stranger," he answered, politely requesting a name.


    "My name is Nakora, of the noble line of the Weinak family. I act as escort captain."


    A female soldier. The people in Ri Khi retained none of the high standards in Khi. They must have lost all sense of honor after they left their homeland, but that was to be expected from the descendants of bastards intermingling with impure De Vhatic blood.


    What am I thinking? Adapting to some of the more unpleasant sides of my father''s values. Had better watch out for those thoughts. Unworthy.


    He broke the silence before it became uncomfortable. "Yes, and your reason for addressing me is?"


    "I wish to relinquish command of your troops."


    "My troops?"


    "Two days ago some forty men joined our escort. Their commander, told me they were to meet you here, but that they would be more useful adding to the escort immediately."


    What is she talking about? I never agreed to swell the escort. No matter. I''ll need all trained men available to protect a caravan three times the planned size. Any available woman as well, he agreed sourly to himself and decided to let that matter drop. "I see. Send them here," he answered as if he''d known in advance.


    She bowed and marched away.


    Well formed hips. Women definitely should do other things than carry weapons, but he had to admit that an active life obviously had worked wonders on her body. He admired her as she vanished among horses and wagons in search for the escort commander he assumed was waiting somewhere closer to the gates.


    Harbend smiled for the first time in hours. Maybe, just maybe this was going to be a very good day. He crossed the open space and stared after Nakora, of the noble line of the Weinak family.


    ***


    Arthur peered out on the street. Late to bed, late to wake he''d been told as a child.


    Not bloody late enough.


    He hardly had a chance to step outdoors before he was surrounded by three people. If you''re kind enough to include an over two meter tall ape in the concept of people. He guessed he had to, no one else had complained the night before.


    "What do you want?" he asked irritably.


    No answer. A gigantic, hairy hand pointed at the door to the Taleweaver''s inn. A telling gesture, and rather than start asking questions in halting De Vhatic Arthur nodded in agreement and joined the trio. He knocked on the door and didn''t have to wait for long before they were allowed in. They chose a table in the tavern close to the stage where Arthur had made his performance.


    "So, could you please tell me what you want?" he requested, anticipating the strange feeling of understanding spoken words as if they were native to him.


    "We would..."


    "I''d be honored..."


    "Please, one at a time," Arthur interrupted. "I''ve had far too little sleep to do multiple conversations."


    Silence.


    "Oh, well, you first," he continued and nodded at one of the two men.


    "Ah, wonderful, such splendid tact displayed by one in distress."


    "Get to it!" Arthur growled.


    "Yes, indeed, most definitely. I shall lay forth our humble wish immediately."


    Arthur sighed. There was far too much embroidering and too little content in the man''s speech for his taste.


    "Last night''s Weave has left us in a state of awe, a recognition of our shortcomings we could only have reached by means of sharing the Weave with a true master of the art. We have come to the decision that we must ask, no, humbly beg you, most wondrous of taleweavers, to accept our presence in your magnificent caravan."


    Arthur tried desperately to cut through the flowery flatter and finally came to a conclusion. They wanted to join him because of his previous performance.


    Bloody great! Now I''m supposed to bring along a mobile fan club.


    "I don''t see, how I could stop you," he answered tiredly. "You have to be aware that it''s not my caravan. I''m just one partner. Harbend de Garak, wherever the gentleman is at the moment, has to accept you, and he''ll request that you pay a fee just like everyone else."


    The man bowed deeply and raised both of his hands so that his face was eventually hidden behind wide, brightly colored silk sleeves.


    "I thank you, most gracious of men. We shall both proceed to set up a meeting with Lord Garak." They rose and backed away from the table. Deep bows and they headed for the door.


    Damn, I''ve seen both of them, but who are they? Yes, of course, the men who appeared out of nowhere in the tavern and almost caused a fight. He shook his head. Oh well. He had done this to himself after all. Time to pay the consequences. He was about to rise when he remembered he was not alone.


    "I''m sorry. And you wanted?" he asked.


    "I''ll use fewer words. I share their sentiment. I wish to join you, help in any way possible in exchange for an opportunity to learn how to master the art."


    Arthur groaned mentally. His troupe of fans was rapidly changing into a menagerie.


    "And what would that help be?" he asked, desperately trying to avoid offending something at least twice his own weight.


    "I''m a mindwalker."


    "Mindwalker?"


    "Yes." The monster hesitated so clearly Arthur was able to catch the tone of uncertainty. "I walk with minds."


    "Hold on, let''s slow down a bit. I''m an outworlder, remember? Explain as if to an idiot."


    "You''re not an idiot. Treating you like one would be the gravest insult and a breach of honor."


    "Thank you." Now what? He wanted to know. "Try to explain this to me as to an outworlder inexperienced in the ways of this world."


    "You are an outworlder. There is no denying that."


    I''m getting nowhere. He began to rise.


    "I''m sorry. I insulted you."


    "No you didn''t. Please just explain to me."


    "I am a Mindwalker. I can bring minds together over great distances. I can make those who do not share a spoken tongue understand each other as if they did."


    Arthur brightened. "You mean you can duplicate the magic of this room?"


    "Not really, but the part making us able to speak with each other, yes, I can do that."


    "Consider yourself hired."


    "Hired? I''m no mercenary."


    "Now I''m the insulting one. You are more than welcome to join us. In fact I''m greatly honored by your presence." He hoped the last sentence would smooth over whatever bad feelings he''d invoked. Another thought struck him. "Would you mind telling me what you are, apart from being a Mindwalker, that is."


    "I usually work as a scout."


    "Oh, no I mean what you are."


    "Forgive me my slow understanding. I know your kind does not easily see the difference. I''m female."


    That was a piece of information he hadn''t expected, but it still didn''t answer his question. "Eh, no I meant, what do your kind call yourself?"


    "Humans, of course."


    What the hell? He thought rapidly. Why would she refer to herself as a human? She was... oh, no he was the one in error.


    "What do you call our kind?" he asked to confirm his suspicion.


    "We have several words for you. Skinless, dwarfs, halfmen, oath breakers and cowards are the most used."


    "Now that''s... that''s just... ," he roared with laughter. "That''s hilarious!" he finished when he got his breath back again. "Lovely! So, what do our kind usually call you?"


    "Humans."


    Arthur peered at her to find out if she was baiting him or not. Then he had an idea.


    "Could you please repeat that word again, slowly?"


    "H-u-m-a-n."


    He listened and tried it himself. "Khraga."


    "Yes, that''s correct, human," she confirmed.

 Intermezzo

    Christina Ulfsdotir noted with some consternation that the TSS Hammerhand still hung in space close to Theta 47.


    Her paid traders had never reported back and she assumed they had failed with their mission. What had started as a diversion was now the only plan she had left.


    Behind her, on Earth, Red News was using Arthur Wallman''s newscasting corporation to carve large chunks out of her media empire. She lost market shares by the month. Visibly so. So visibly in fact even smaller, local independents dared challenging her.


    For the fucking second time! The asshole stole my audience with his damn Otherworld Disclosed, and now this!


    It had to stop, but as long as Arthur Wallman was believed to be alive it would never stop. People were already saying she''d lost it when they thought she didn''t hear. She would show them the real loser.


    She used the fact that while taking a ship through the Gate was strongly discouraged it wasn''t explicitly forbidden. Shuttle dropping without a way to return was. That meant they were forced to bring drop tanks at an added, outrageous cost. They had.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    They shuttle dropped Five shuttles, three carrying men and women and two for the drop tanks and the highly illegal equipment she had brought. Illegal on Earth, but not illegal here. The idiot laws even forbade that she be tried in court for bringing weapons she obviously must have bought on the other side of the Gate. Well, coming to Otherworld certainly killed any chances she had to get another of the juicy government contracts, but Red News were doing a good job at that anyway.


    When they made surface she would make sure they found the little worm. A force of forty men and women ought to be enough to avoid anything as awkward as the rumored incident in Verd. She toyed with the thought of having Gudrun killed but in the end Christina decided against it. If the surviving assassin was found the girl could come in handy on this mission. After all, killing her could wait.

 Chapter eight, Mountain Pass, part one

    Harbend felt pride soaring through him. He''d managed to get everything sorted in the end, and now he led well over three hundred wagons toward the mountains. Hiring scouts almost handled itself. Four hunters were headed for their winter cabins and didn''t mind taking a long detour in exchange for some money. Luckily coins minted in Verd were universally well accepted. He even managed to split the escort into two separate units with Captain Laiden in overall command without hurting anyone''s feelings too much.


    Arthur''s new associates were another matter though. They had paid the required fee to join the caravan, with the exception of Gring, the Khraga, who worked as a translator for Arthur. They even bought one wagon and two horses to go with it, but it was painfully clear that they knew nothing of driving it, and in the end Harbend forced them to hire a driver and buy another pair of horses. A male couple from Khanati, and one of them had to be a Transport Khar. There was no other explanation for them being here. Master and slave if Harbend was right. Well, Arthur''s idiocy had paid off in a way. Three battle mages from Rhuin opted to join the escort after Harbend promised to pay the Transport mage from Ira who brought them here.


    Then there was the Khraga. She should have been the least of the problems. Harbend knew an entire tribe of them lived in Ri Kordari, and from what he had heard they were held in very high esteem. But he should have known he could always trust Arthur to find a harder way to solve an already difficult problem. Of course he managed to attract a Khraga from Gaz. Gods! That man wasn''t picky to say the least. Why invite a hairy giant who made most of the men uneasy when you could invite a hairy giant who was sworn to the ancient enemy of those who weren''t already unsettled?


    As if that wasn''t bad enough, Arthur now spent most of his time with the female Khraga. So much time in fact some mercenaries from Ri Khi had hinted at a conspiracy when they believed Harbend couldn''t hear them. He''d been forced to hammer them out of that misconception as harshly as possible before things got ugly. They didn''t complain after that.


    Yes, he definitely had a reason to feel proud of himself.


    They were on the road again, if the narrow trail deserved the status of road, that is. Three full days from the Roadhouse with a caravan so vast half a morning passed between the vanguard reaching a milestone and the rearguard leaving it behind.


    Trees still grew tall here, something that would change as they meandered their way upwards during the days to come, but at the moment they were still surrounded by a forest somehow looking wilder than those they had passed through in Erkateren. The trees here were not planted, not as straight and ordered in long lines as those he''d seen earlier. This was not a supply for timber men and carpenters.


    Harbend slowly started to accept that he was heading into unchartered territory. The last caravan had trudged its way from Braka to Verd over a hundred years earlier, and a lot could have happened since. He knew that from the moment they parted with their scouts he could no longer trust any knowledge he thought he had. Not until they reached Braka itself, which meant spending over a season in the unknown. They were testing the borders of that unknown now. Not even the mercenaries from Ri Khi knew their way around here, and the hunters hired as scouts only used this trail sparsely.


    He dared his horse into a slow gallop. If he could catch up with the vanguard he would get the latest news of their progress, even if that news was only reports of yet more trees. As it was it didn''t turn out that way.


    He found Captain Laiden overseeing the hacking and sawing of a great log fallen across the trail.


    "Windfall, Captain?" Harbend asked the stern commander.


    "No, just old age, M''lord. We''ll be through soon."


    "Good to hear. Anything else?"


    "Not really, M''lord. My man, Terwin," Trindai pointed at a heavyset man handling one end of a huge saw. "thinks someone''s watching us. I don''t know. Want me to tell you when I''m more certain, M''lord?"


    "Do so. I have absolute confidence in your judgment when it comes to matters military."


    Trindai gave Harbend a speculative look, and Harbend wondered what had earned him the thoughtfulness of the captain.


    "Will do, M''lord," Trindai finally answered as if having made his mind up about something during the silence.


    Harbend rode back along the line of wagons and grabbed something to eat. He''d become a lot less concerned about eating among people since leaving Verd, but then you could hardly expect a private room while on horseback. He watched as soldiers departed to replace the vanguard and noted Arthur and the Khraga joining the troops riding away. So did Chaijrild.


    The girl flaunted an interest in Arthur that Harbend realized grew out of spite, but there wasn''t much in his powers to do about it, and he no longer harbored any interest in trying.


    A while later Captain Laiden returned with his men and reported that the log was cleared away and made into firewood. With little else to do Harbend joined the captain in hope of passing time a bit faster.


    "There''s something out there, but I don''t know, and I don''t like not knowing, M''lord," Captain Laiden said almost as soon as he saw Harbend coming.


    "And your suggestion?" Harbend looked at the captain.


    "I''ll sweep both sides of the caravan. With your permission, of course, M''lord," he added almost as an afterthought.


    The scouting missions resulted in nothing but unpleasant rumors among the mercenaries from Ri Khi, and Harbend marked his dissatisfaction with the new problem in a way that had Captain Laiden growling before he ordered his men to be ready. Harbend was about to counter that order when a glimmer of threat shone from Trindai''s eyes, and Harbend quickly rescinded his decision and rode on.


    ***


    Trindai de Laiden, Imperial Colonel in the forces of Keen, rode along the track. He was disguised as a lowly mercenary escort captain but he''d experienced worse missions.


    Harbend de Garak''s interfering with how to organize the escort a few days earlier had played right into his hands and now Trindai was in command of two full squadrons of crack troops. Berdaler and Terwin were able enough to command each of them independently, thank all gods for small favors. With the addition of a company''s strength of half-assed thugs acting out a sorry excuse for a military unit he''d need to spend most of his time helping Captain Weinak keeping her men in line. That required manipulating her so he didn''t seem to be usurping her direct command.


    Bastards own luck, he thought, I throw away a good third of my pay to escape a darkness cursed office command with a fancy title attached to it. Now I have a whore son''s load of paperwork dropped in my lap out in the wilderness instead.


    He sighed and spat. One captain and two lieutenants, neither of whom would ever have been entrusted an officers responsibility in Keen, to command a full company headed for dispersed duty. That would need reorganizing.


    He''d been ordered here to command half that number. However, with a major and two captains for each of his squadrons, not to mention the lieutenant and two noncommissioned officers handling every half squadron, he had ten times the command capacity available. A necessity for a mission where they had to cover grounds normally assigned to a regiment.


    Trindai led his horse along the track musing over his bad luck. A full company of heavy cavalry and almost no remounts. Out here in the cold mountains he''d hoped for more than the half cooked brain who''d come up with the idiocy of parading out into the middle of nowhere with short lances and arbalests without as much as a thought to the realities of warfare. Well, it couldn''t be helped.


    At least Captain Weinak seemed competent enough. She''d done better in Keen, assigned a proper command instead of the band of thugs in uniforms she''d brought. He''d help her by arranging training missions as soon as they were on the plains. Berdaler and Terwin would have to explain the real reason for those sessions to the men, but they''d complain anyway. Darkness! He''d have complained if forced to excessively tire the horses on stupid exercises every day when even a half trained recruit could see that resting made more sense.


    He spat again and mounted.


    The trees grew denser around them here, and with his mind off longterm planning Trindai could afford to share the discomfort his men had given voice to earlier. Something was out there prowling the caravan. He commanded some of the best scouts this side of Kastari and relied fully in their ability to give him correct information. Darkness would fall soon, and they were still far from ready to make camp. It didn''t matter any longer. They''d have to make do on the trail. Driving the wagons after nightfall was too dangerous.


    He disliked forests. Too many places to hide in. As if to prove him right, a shadow of something moved between the trunks. He tried to get a better look and then he identified the lurkers.


    "Dragon pack!"


    Trindai dropped from his horse and rolled on the ground. Soldiers followed his example, and with a coordination taking years of training and hard won experience they met the attack. Trindai backed away and began counting the creatures. Twenty, at least. Dragonlings, not as intelligent as their brethren raiding the coasts, but just as fierce.


    He heard, rather than saw, a wall of flames spreading out in a semicircle. So, the gaudy foreigner from Khanati was a Fire Khar. Hissing screams marked whenever a dragonling was consumed by the roaring fire, and Trindai afforded himself a grim smile. They would only need to cover one flank. The men were already dispatching dragonlings with the efficiency he expected from them, and he concentrated on what was happening further along the caravan. He saw Harbend throwing his horse into a gallop, choosing the left side of the road where there were only charred remains of their attackers.


    A movement to his right caught Trindai''s eyes. Arthur! The outworlder idiot was riding into the fray.


    "Turn back! You can''t do anything." Too late. Arthur was already behind the dragonlings waving his right hand. A sound like nothing Trindai had ever heard before cut the scene to a halt. Soldiers and dragonlings, several of them already locked in combat, froze like statues, and then the awful noise repeated itself again, and again, and again. Trindai forced himself into action and moving closer to the outworlder he watched the ghastly display of blood and gore as the dragonlings'' bodies burst open before they fell.


    "You ...! Die! Die damn you!"


    That was an untrained madman screaming, not the arrogant but gentle outworlder he''d come to know.


    Trindai stared and now he could see how whenever Arthur pointed his hand at a dragonling the roar of death called into the air and the creature exploded in a wet shower of red and white. It was over in moments, over for everyone but Arthur who remained screaming in madness while he continued kicking at the remains of a dragonling.


    The men pulled back, removed themselves from the deadly apparition turned up among them. Trindai saw their faces. There had been grim determination there before. Now they only showed naked fear. He saw Harbend approach Arthur. Someone had to. They couldn''t have the men living in fear of one of their employers.


    "Arthur, stop! Arthur!"


    There was no visible response.


    "Arthur, listen up!" Harbend yelled again. Nothing. He chanced coming closer, and in a final act of desperation he slapped the outworlder. "Wake up!"


    Harbend and Arthur exchanged another few shouted words in the outworlder language and in the end Arthur stopped kicking at the broken carcass and sanity slowly returned to his eyes.


    Searching for the Khraga enabling him to understand the foreign words Trindai watched as Harbend breathed in relief and embraced Arthur, knowing before the outworlder what was about to happen. Harbend barely managed to close his arms around Arthur before the older man broke down in sobs. They stood there for a short eternity. There should be another reaction soon. Harbend stepped aside and turned away when Arthur finally emptied his stomach on the ground.


    Harbend must have seen combat before, but for the outworlder it was a first kill. The proficiency he''d shown in Verd when attacked by the inquisition soldier had been training without experience after all. Maybe next time Arthur would be in control of himself, and there would be a next time, maybe more than one. Trindai wasn''t about to start fooling himself into believing all of them would emerge unscathed from the journey. He could only hope not too many of them died. That had always been the reason caravans paid off well -- for those who survived. That had been the reason for ships to dare the dangerous waters closer to Braka. Danger raised the price of wares sold.


    ***


    Sitting around a campfire. But for the madness earlier Arthur could almost have believed himself exchanging exaggerations with the tourists he guided over thirty years earlier. Almost, but no tourist had been a two meter tall monster.


    He smirked at the memories. So young then, guiding the rich and the famous, long before he became one himself. Some of them he remembered with vehemence, and the last few days had convinced him Gring ghara Khat, or that was as close as he came to pronounce her name, certainly didn''t play the part of a monster the way some of the tourists had. He liked her company, liked her ways and how she taught him to relax when she wove the strands of magic around him allowing him to talk with the others. It wasn''t the way he once thought of a woman but the way a man might grow fond of an acquaintance becoming a friend. There was of course something inhuman about her, but anything else would have been impossible for someone who was obviously born a predator.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    He sat with a small box in his lap and a manual in his left hand, trying to read it in the flickering light from the flames. Soon he''d put the manual away and start cleaning his gun. The people who once equipped him with the weapon were adamant about that. Never, ever use the gun without cleaning it afterward. Not unless you were absolutely positive you had fingers to spare.


    Sure requires more work than the mace Harbend bought me, but that one hasn''t seen any work.


    Once more he shuddered at the memories of what had passed nor even an hour earlier, and in an attempt to dispel those thought he bent over his manual. Reading the last passage to make sure he understood what he was supposed to do he picked the weapon up. It was warm in his hands, smooth and shiny except for the handle formed to give him a better grip. The handle also held the biochip grown from his own cells.


    A mixed blessing. He couldn''t lend the weapon to anyone else. It wouldn''t function in the hands of another. There was still violence and theft of course, but mostly in the form of fistfights and outright piracy; two extremes surviving any change to human society, and the occasional small scale war. Humanity defined herself by wars, but at least the Federation never got involved with its disgusting capacity to destroy any opposition. Wars these days were confined to the petty states declining to be part of the Terran Federation.


    Arthur dismantled the gun in silence. A silence he knew he would have to break. They were waiting for an explanation, and he had a question as well, but for now he was happy with the calm lasting since they set camp after the ambush. It took longer to clean the gun than he''d expected. He knew it could be done in a couple of minutes, but he hadn''t handled one for decades.


    Then he was finished and there was no longer an excuse for him to stay mute. He looked through the flames in search for a face he knew would be there, patiently waiting. One of the women from Ri Khi, a medic of sorts.


    "How is she?"


    "She will recover. She will be fine."


    "You''re certain?"


    "I am a magehealer. I may not be as skilled as some, but she was not badly hurt. It looked worse than it was. Bruises mostly and a bad cut to her scalp. Bleeds a lot."


    He gave the woman a stern look.


    "And a broken arm," she admitted. "It will heal. Two days, no more, and you shall fail to see there has ever been any damage."


    He shuddered. Chaijrild''s arm hadn''t been broken. It had been crushed between the teeth of a lizard before the female escort captain killed it. Two days was amazing though, almost... He suddenly laughed. Not almost. It was magic. Magic instead of science, or, if his suspicions were correct, mere science to those invested with the powers and magic to all the rest. In a way very much the same as home. Arthur shrugged the amusing thought away.


    "If the soldiers hadn''t reacted so fast we wouldn''t be sitting here now," he said, remembering how close it had been, and the mirth left him.


    Arthur looked at the magehealer again. She was the only one from Ri Khi who accepted his presence, or rather accepted Gring''s presence, but as the Khraga seldom went far from his side it was effectively the same. All the others shunned him, some out of fear and a few seemingly out of a hatred he couldn''t understand. He tried to ask Gring, but she avoided the question and he let the matter fall. She''d tell him at a time of her own choosing.


    The sound of footsteps startled him and he looked left, over the towering shape of Gring beside him, and saw Harbend smiling as he walked closer. Captain Laiden followed in his steps and Arthur knew this time he would answer questions rather than ask them.


    The men sat down on a log he''d dragged out of the forest earlier to make some extra seats in anticipation of the interrogation he suspected would follow later.


    Trindai looked at the reassembled gun in Arthur''s hand. That was a question clear as any.


    "It''s called a gun, or a pistol," Arthur started. "It''s a weapon," he continued.


    Trindai smirked and Arthur felt like an idiot. As if Trindai needed to be told that something causing the deaths of half a dozen attackers was a weapon. Arthur swore silently. Should he attempt to increase his reputation by explaining for the professional soldier that a mace was something you tried to bludgeon people with?


    "I apologize," Arthur said.


    The captain grinned, and after a while the grin turned into a smile.


    "Let me try again." Arthur held up the gun to let the flames throw light on it. "This weapon is in a way similar to the crossbow you favor here. The main difference is that instead of quarrels this one uses something called stub needle micro grenades, and until they are launched they are very small." Arthur paused to see if they were following him.


    "Go on, M''lord," Trindai said.


    "On Earth we have something called high explosives. I don''t know if you have anything like it here, but it''s used both for propelling the projectile as well as expanding it when it enters a target."


    "We don''t, but the raiders do," the captain answered and scratched an unshaven cheek.


    "They do?"


    "Yes, we''ve experimented with compressed air to replace our current stone throwers, but we can''t make the gases expand fast enough to make a working cannon."


    Arthur had to reevaluate his view on the people in Keen. He glanced at Trindai. The captain had a peculiar way of lapsing into different modes of speech. The almost subservient way he used with Harbend was all but gone now. "How so?" Arthur asked.


    "First thing first, M''lord," Trindai said. "The raiders use some system involving combustion, a little like throwing a bottle of strong brandy in the fire, but much more efficient. We believe it''s done with magic."


    Gunpowder? Arthur thought for himself. "Maybe, maybe not," he answered the unvoiced question.


    "Anyway, we haven''t found a way to create an explosion that''ll throw an object far enough and fast enough without resorting to constructions too large and with too low a rate of fire to be of any practical use," Trindai said, in turn answering Arthur''s second question. "Now you show up with a weapon that can be carried around by one man with a penetration power greater than our crossbows and a relaunch rate we can only dream about."


    "So of course you''re interested," Arthur finished Trindai''s line of thought.


    "Yes. I''d like to know the reach of that weapon."


    A loud crack was followed by a hiss, and bouncing embers announced the fire was falling in on itself. Arthur added some branches to it after making sure he had caught nothing in his lap. Then he turned back to the captain. "Ah, let me think, less than a lamp, maybe sixty paces. This weapon is constructed for personal protection. It''s not military issue."


    Trindai''s face showed clear disappointment. "That''s less, a lot less, than a crossbow."


    "It is," Arthur agreed. "We have portable weapons that could easily reach from one end of Verd to the other with pinpoint accuracy. I even believe there are some that could reach between two of your telegraphs, eh, far writers" That piece of information apparently stunned the captain. You don''t need to know of guided missiles reaching all over this planet should the damn military ever place their deadly toys here.


    "And it''s portable?"


    "Not exactly, but in a way. One man operates it and moves with it, but it''s too heavy for a human to carry around, so we have to use a mechanical contraption to move both soldier and weapon." Arthur saw the magehealer frown disapprovingly. That was natural, he guessed. She healed people and here he was talking about equipment killing them.


    Trindai brightened. "I''ve seen those moving armors of yours. Ten years ago, after you came here."


    After we came here. Also a way of describing it. The captain must have been present during the invasion attempt. "That''s not something we''re very proud about," Arthur said.


    "Why not? We''re very happy you chose Keen. Of course the relations may be strained from time to time, but the exclusion of any other land is a great honor to us."


    "What?"


    "But of course. Please don''t mistake our ways for anger. Protectionism and a certain amount of greed, yes I have to admit that, but we''re grateful you haven''t started to fly your sky ships from elsewhere."


    A moment of shock followed by revelation. The captain didn''t know about the Terran Federation''s insane attack! Maybe most living here didn''t, but how?


    "Oh, I see. You''re thinking of that unfortunate episode. It was a mistake trying to take your installation by force, and your weapons made us pay dearly," Trindai continued, apparently mistaking the reason for Arthur''s silence.


    Arthur didn''t know what to say, and only returned Trindai''s stare. They sat in silence around the flickering light of the fire until Arthur decided it was his time asking questions.


    "The things that attacked us today, what were they?"


    "Dragonlings," Gring answered. "They are quite common where I come from."


    "They''re very rare here," Trindai said. "I don''t know about these mountains, but we don''t see many of them west of Erkateren anyway, and I''d be surprised if there are that many there."


    Harbend nodded his head in agreement with the captain. "He is probably right. From what I have heard they are hunted more or less to extinction. A different matter on the other side of the mountains though." Harbend looked at Gring.


    "Very different," she agreed. "Hunting dragonlings is forbidden there. Defending yourself is allowed of course, but no hunting."


    "Why?" Arthur asked.


    "I don''t know," Gring admitted. "You die if you try, so people just accept it''s forbidden."


    "Who kills the hunters?"


    "To begin with there has been no hunters of dragonlings for a very long time. Well, not on the eastern side of the pass anyway. To answer your question, we don''t know. Legend has it a hunter just dies. Accident, sickness, killed by animals, anything. Never takes long though."


    Arthur wasn''t getting anywhere and he tried a different approach. "Why is it forbidden to hunt them?" he asked. "And why only on the other side of the mountains."


    "I can answer the second question," Trindai offered. "We''ve been given the land where we live, but we''re not allowed to bring our own rules across the mountains," he continued.


    Arthur digested the information for a few moments. "So, and my first question?" he asked.


    "I thought the answer would be obvious," Gring said, and Arthur could see how all around him gave him looks of utter surprise.


    "I''m afraid I''m the foreigner here," he explained.


    "Dragonlings are the young of dragons. I thought everyone knew that."


    Excitement stirred in Arthur. "Dragons? You have dragons here?"


    "There hasn''t been a sighting of a dragon in hundreds of years, but of course we do. Don''t you?"


    "No, we don''t. No dragons where I come from."


    "You are the strangest of people," Gring said. "You say you don''t have dragons where you come from, and yet you seem familiar with the concept. No wonder we call you halfmen and oath breakers when you so obviously lie to yourself," she concluded.


    Arthur could only listen in amazement as Gring was joined by a choir of murmured agreement.

 Chapter eight, Mountain Pass, part two

    Drizzling rain made the ascent slow progress. Horses slipped on the wet ground. Harbend swore. Wagon wheels were the only things never slipping in the mud. Oh, no. They got stuck instead and brought the caravan to a halt.


    He added a groan to the oath. He still remembered the last wagon to get mired. A groom was lying stretched out in a wagon now, a broken bone and a torn back tormenting him after a fall under the wheels when they finally managed to get the wagon moving again. Harbend sighed silently and forced his horses to drag the wagon yet another few paces forward. They were closing to the highest point and the track was becoming steeper and steeper. They weren''t late, but the weather played a dirty trick on his plans and he could feel the rain slowly turning to snow.


    He started to get worried. Discomfort was close to turning into real danger. Earlier, in Erkateren, he''d been concerned they''d be forced to turn back if snow caught them, but now he knew they were no longer able to do so. Too much of the track behind them was destroyed by wagons passing over it, and so they needed to push forward across the summit and down into the relative shelter beneath it. How long before they were there? Half a day, a day or maybe more?


    He struggled forward with his wagon again. Stumbling and slipping in the mud he almost fell. The temperature was dropping fast now, and he was almost numb with cold before he realized the wind had caught up, beating wet snow against his already soaked clothes. He staggered on for a while and was surprised to see night falling. Far away in the distance he heard a voice. Then it was closer and he found himself face to face with a screaming Arthur.


    "Get in you bloody idiot!"


    "What?" Harbend tried to shake off Arthur''s hands.


    "Get in and change clothes! Hypothermia."


    "What?" Sleep. Sleeping would be so good.


    "No matter. Get the hell into your wagon! Now! You''ll freeze to death. I''ll handle your horses."


    Harbend was too tired to argue and allowed himself to be dragged to the wagon. After a couple of failed tries he managed to climb into it. Another dark shape followed him and helped him strip. It was strange. He knew he should feel cold standing naked with only thin cloth sheltering him. He allowed himself to be helped into dry clothes and was too numb to complain when he was wrapped in more cloth. After a while warmth came, and with warmth a peculiar stinging pain, but somehow he managed to fall asleep anyway.


    ***


    "Everyone fine?"


    "Yes, M''lord. I think ... accounted for. We''ve sent ... to look for ... missing."


    Arthur grimaced to Trindai. "Need Gring. I you fail understand."


    "Yes, M''lord. I go ... her ... now."


    Trindai departed. Hopefully in search for the Khraga.


    The blizzard was worsening now, and Arthur appalled with their escort failing to see the danger. Only those who spoke little or no De Vhatic seemed to know how to handle the weather, and most had already taken shelter before he found himself in command of the caravan.


    Harbend was asleep in his wagon. The idiot had walked on in wet clothes without any concern for his own safety. It was as if he never understood the danger.


    Arthur searched his surroundings. They were still beneath the summit, and the mountain gave them some shelter at least. If they''d been halfway on the other side some of them would be dead by now. He shook his head. Primitive world apparently didn''t mean everyone was an outdoors man.


    Tugging his cloak tighter around his neck he changed his mind. Maybe they were simply not outdoors men used to cold winters. He wouldn''t have been of much use if they''d been traversing a desert. Harbend did look as if he came from a warmer climate, so there might be a valid reason for his stupid behavior. Arthur swore. Valid or not. Nature seldom cared, and Otherworld seemed to share that aspect with Earth. Dead is dead, no matter how good an excuse you have.


    Denser snowfall now, but without the rise in temperature he''d expected. Turning his horse he rode back along the column of wagons. He needed to get to Harbend''s wagon and tether the horse to it before the last light vanished.


    With the wagon train stretching for miles there was no way of finding out if everyone was safe. Arthur realized they''d probably spend the better part of the next day finding out what had happened to everyone. Maybe a scouting party could be sent to the other side of the summit, but he doubted they''d make much progress. Still, they had to. Setting camp here for too long would be as dangerous as climbing the trek, but without the benefit of reaching lower, more protected grounds. He spat in disgust and rode on. When he reached his wagon Gring was already waiting for him. A tingling around his temples told him he would be understood.


    "How is he?"


    "The magehealer is making sure he''ll recover. Nothing dangerous," she answered.


    "Do you know if anyone''s missing?"


    "No, I don''t. I could search if you want me to."


    "I don''t know if that would be much help in the darkness."


    "I can smell a halfman carcass until it''s but bones. The scent of live ones is even stronger. I can search," she responded.


    "What about the cold? You must be freezing."


    "I''m not like you weaklings. This is nothing."


    Arthur smiled. "If you would, please?"


    He watched her leave into the darkness and shook his head. Hopefully all would be accounted for, but he doubted they''d all be alive. There was nothing he could do about it now, and he needed to catch some sleep.


    ***


    Veric, thank the thousand gods for small favors, was a second language to both of them, and the only one they shared with the magehealer directing their moves.


    "Escha, my love, she''s cooling too fast. I need you to jump blood from her veins to her outer arteries so I can warm it before it returns to her heart."


    Escha growled, concentration forcing sweat to his temples.


    Trai knew he was asking a lot from his slave, the impossible from anyone else, but he trusted him fully the way he''d done since even before brotherhood grew into love.


    "A little bit more." Weak throbs of power in perfect harmony with the slow heartbeats of the merchant mistress told him Escha was doing the impossible again. "And less again." Trai threw tiny strands of heat around the woman.


    Not too much. Warm, not boil, or I''ll kill her.


    He withdrew his spell for a moment to let Escha jump more cooling blood to where he could warm it before it could reach the central organs and kill his unconscious patient. She''d live. He could see that in the eyes of the awestruck magehealer who had directed his powers with her knowledge.


    "Trai, I''m losing it."


    "Let go. I can''t do more now. Hard work handling so little of the gift at a time, eh?"


    "What would you know? You''d conjure a firestorm for a mother''s stove," Escha growled in mock anger.


    "I love you too," Trai responded. "Now you may flaunt all your powers at will. Memorize this location. I need you to jump all of them to Ri Nachi."


    "Why of course, Master."


    "And be quick to find a magehealer. I don''t want you to waste your time in a tavern while they freeze to death in their own capital."


    "How could you ever suspect that from me, your humble slave. Forgive me, my pillar of wisdom!"


    "Go. Be on your way!"


    Escha bowed to obey, but no matter how dark the interior of the wagon was Trai could still see how drained he was. Escha had used his gifts continuously for far too long, and the danger of a backlash where he was consumed by his own powers was looming closer.


    "Don''t stay there, you good for nothing. Away!"


    There was a swirl of power as Escha gathered his gift in a nexus connecting two or more sleeping gods in a tight loop of nowhere and everywhere, and he jumped. The beds were empty and Trai was alone with the magehealer.


    "Why did you do that?" she asked. "He was almost drained and you forced him to use even more of the gift with your ugly words."


    Trai didn''t answer. He was weary beyond recall, and already he could feel tendons in his body scar as they slowly burned, fueled by his own gift.


    "Gods! You are as uncaring as arrogant. He did not need to. I could have healed them."


    The searing heat wrought agony to Trai, but he forced it away. "Silent woman! I saved his life, and he knows it. He''s too strong to use so little of his gift for so long. Jumping the wounded to your home allows him to release the surplus." Trai grinned." And he''ll get some rest there trying to find your colleagues in that city of yours."


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Understanding dawned in her eyes, and grabbing him she transferred all damage from his burning body before he lost consciousness. That gave him the time he needed, and he released his own gift in an uncontrolled burst tearing away the entire side of the wagon, melting snow and rock alike when it caught the mountainside.


    I live to see tomorrow, he had time to think before convulsions forced him to empty his stomach over the side of the wrecked wagon.


    "Idiot!" a voice from outside growled. Gring, the Khraga, bringing in two bodies slung over her shoulders. "If you make your vehicle skinless like yourself, how will the half dead halfmen I brought survive?"


    Behind him the magehealer groaned as she healed herself. By the thousand gods, she was a skilled one if she was able to voice her pains so shortly after taking his damage into her body.


    "Honored Khraga, please bring me something to cover the wagon!" Trai begged, and to his astonishment Gring only nodded and left after unceremoniously dumping the men she carried onto the beds Escha had just vacated.


    Trai shrugged and began administering the frostbites of the new arrivals.


    "Not that way, you clumsy oaf!" The magehealer must be fully healed then. "And I agree with the Khraga," she murmured as she started redoing Trai''s inept attempt at doctoring.


    "I can warm him," he offered.


    She glared at the open wagon side and shivered in denial.


    "There''s no danger now. Not until midnight, at least. I promise to be more careful and release any built up powers well before I''m spent."


    She nodded approval, and once again he let tendrils of heat envelope cold limbs wherever she pointed.


    "You could have died," she said after both men were safe.


    "It was rash, I admit," Trai answered.


    "Yet you had the foresight to send a mere slave to safety."


    "That mere slave is the love of my life. I''ll die before I see him harmed."


    The wagon shifted suddenly, and he looked up. It was Gring throwing a heavy tarpaulin over it. She fought the storm and fastened it to the sides of the wagon with spikes.


    Trai melted the snow inside and forced the steam outside.


    "Healer! Three more. Fool soldiers from Keen sleeping on the snow with nothing under them."


    Trai groaned.


    Gring helped lifting the bodies into the wagon, and then Escha climbed inside.


    Back already? Has it been so long?


    "Their ale is weak and the mutton even worse," he said before bending over their most recent patient.


    "Lazy slave, didn''t I tell you to stay clear of alehouses?" By the gods, he''s tired! "I should sell you to the first buyer."


    "Bah, you''re too incompetent a trader to get a decent price, oh master of idiocy."


    "A bitter chance of fortune the day evil fate forced you upon me." Trai winked at the magehealer. "Madame, could I interest you in a servant? I''ll even pay you good money to get this sorry specimen off my hands."


    They continued their abusive bantering while the magehealer prepared their next patient, but this time she only shook her head in wonderment and smiled.


    The exchange of insults and laughs helped a little, but the never ending stream of arriving bodies promised an agonizingly long night.


    ***


    Harbend woke late in the morning. Arthur watched him stirring and left the wagon. He was back in a moment and offered Harbend a cup of steaming tea.


    "Welcome back."


    Harbend groaned and shivered. "It is freezing! Where are we?"


    "We''re where you fell asleep yesterday, and you''re happy to be freezing," Arthur answered.


    "We have to get going. How late is it?"


    "It''s late, but we''re not going anywhere today. There are a couple of funerals to be taken care of first." Arthur was surprised by the coldness in his voice.


    "Funerals?"


    "Yes, a soldier and a trader froze to death during the night before Gring could find them. A few others suffer frostbite but they''ll recover."


    "Frostbite?"


    Arthur explained, still feeling strangely detached from what he was saying. Somehow he couldn''t accept that Harbend, who he had trusted to know everything about this world, could have made such a dangerous mistake. Somehow, if he was honest to himself, he couldn''t accept that a friend he trusted didn''t know everything there was to know, and the thought shamed him. He had no right to expect Harbend to handle all dangers they encountered. After all, the man was close to twenty years his junior, and Arthur, not Harbend, was supposed to know how to travel during winter. That lack of foresight cost a man and a woman their lives.


    He turned away so as not to have to meet Harbend''s stare.


    "Arthur, thank you."


    "Thanks for what?"


    "I thank you for saving my life."


    Shame grew even stronger, and Arthur only nodded before leaving the wagon.


    He started to untie his horse but decided against it. Instead he climbed the trek to where he knew people were making ready to mourn. He needed to see what his negligence had cost others.


    He was almost at the burial when he met his two human self appointed apprentices. Both men were wearing no more than the silks they had donned several days earlier, and Arthur wondered why he didn''t see any signs of frostbite. Probably some more of their strange magics. He examined the man closest to him. Trai of the Achnai family, and titled Khar, just like his companion, Escha. They looked tired.


    "What are you two doing here?" No response. Arthur was about to repeat his question when he realized neither of the men would understand a single word he said if Gring wasn''t present. He bowed stiffly and continued past them.


    ***


    They crossed the summit two days later. It was slow and dangerous, but with the worst of the blizzard behind them they had to move on before the trek turned into an icy hell impossible for horses to climb.


    The descent was a sombre affair. Two lives lost so soon after they left the Roadhouse was more than enough to remind them of the dangers ahead. It was no longer the tedious but safe journey between Keen and Erkateren, and their lack of respect had already cost too much. The evenings were silent, and only a few campfires saw people laughing at stories told. Arthur knew the mood was turning low, but he couldn''t find a way to remedy the dangerous situation. It wasn''t until Gring and the two mages from Khanati cornered him one day he was forced to acknowledge his own importance. He agreed to attend different campsites strewn out along the track. He told stories, none very long, but the prospect of listening to a taleweaver was enough to keep away complaints from all but the most angry.


    Some made big eyes at his three followers, but most of the scared stares were aimed at him. The rumor of his use of a magic device of death had spread through the entire caravan, but still, he was a taleweaver, and it was apparently a thing rare enough for anyone to ever listen to one that not once did he hear a complaint or a comment of fear voiced. At the cost of much needed sleep Arthur managed to give the escort their respite. When he finally became too tired to ride during daytime and talk people into laughing after nightfall, the soldiers had managed to enforce discipline again.


    Despite his earlier resolve to find anything unusual about the flora and fauna on Otherworld Arthur only managed to identify gigantic bracken he suspected grew nowhere back on Earth. Pines and firs were less common on this side of the mountain range. Of dragonlings there wasn''t even a trace.


    Arthur forced his horse to catch up with the vanguard one late morning. The air had something new to it, a freshness it had lacked during the descent into the woods on the eastern side of the mountains and he was eager to know what it was. He heard gasps and when he rounded a corner he was stunned as well. A mat of whiteness stretched out into infinity, almost like the surface of a moonlit sea. He sat on his horse, fully enjoying himself for the first time in days in a stillness broken only by gusts of winds running through the trees around him and bending the high grass like waves on an ocean. Yes, it was definitely amply called the Sea of Grass.

 Intermezzo

    Christina Ulfsdotir was less than satisfied with the response from the fortification. She ordered her men to fire upon the walls to make the idiots understand the meaning of superior firepower, but small arms fire made little impact on stone. A missile brought a more satisfying destruction to the walls. She watched how the explosion caught men on the battlements and threw them to their deaths.


    "Take the damn doors out and get us in!"


    Another missile sent the wooden gates expanding inwards in a cloud of hot gases. She saw splinters burning through the breach, but there was yet another pair of gates to be forced before they could enter. Two more missiles brought destruction to the gates and she smiled as the lights of the town center inside became visible.


    "Let''s go in. Can''t have the fuckers waiting for us, can we?" She started walking while her men disassembled the missile launchers and put them back onto one of their hovercraft.


    When she was almost at the gates a few soldiers with crossbows tried to stop her, but a barrage of high explosive ammunition threw their exploding bodies backwards and she walked in unmolested. She forced the translator they had hired in Verd to her side. "Tell them that I want to know where Arthur Wallman is!"


    He obliged but no one seemed to answer. She ordered the closest house to be destroyed and repeated her request.


    Six houses were burning by the time a woman dared to come forward. She was blabbering incomprehensibly in fear and Christina turned to her translator. He translated.


    "Tell her we want to know how long it was since they were here."


    "She says it was almost a season ago."


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    "And she''s sure it was Arthur?"


    "She says an outworlder was part of a caravan passing through here and that she has never seen any other outworlder."


    Christina digested the information. It made sense. So once again her intuition had been correct. Further east then.


    "Ask her where they are heading!"


    "She says they have to pass through Vimarin, Erkateren and that if you don''t hear about them in the Roadhouse they have probably turned north to Ri Khi."


    Christina walked to face the woman.


    "Tell her I don''t have any more questions."


    The woman was giddy with relief and started running away.


    "Translator! Tell her that I hate cowardliness in a woman."


    The woman turned when addressed. Christina shot her in her face.


    "We''re leaving this rat hole. What the hell is its name?"


    "Roadbreak, Madam," the translator answered.


    She watched the burning houses until one of then caved in.


    "Nice town," she said.

 Chapter nine, Sea of Grass, part one

    Another circle of wagons. Coming out in the open at least allowed them to gather together during the evenings. Now they camped with their wagons as protection against the ever present wind. During the evenings and early mornings, at least, they looked like a group rather than an infinite line of wagons struggling one by one to go on.


    Arthur dismounted and walked into the circle of trampled snow and grass. Almost waist high and very brittle the grass was used instead of firewood.


    It was time for his performance in the dark as it had been almost every evening since they started descending down the mountains.


    The darkness was what disturbed him most. He didn''t remember it being so dark when he sat with groups of tourists around campfires all those years ago. Then those groups hadn''t been over three hundred wagons strong of course. Even if they split into thirty circles they were still over thirty humans trying to make room around each cooking fire, and Arthur, in his youth, had seldom led a group larger than ten and never one as large as twenty.


    He smiled at Trai beside him. Escha and Gring were there as well. The trio followed him whenever he was about to go tale telling, but he couldn''t complain. That was their reason for joining the caravan after all, and by now they had all more than proved their worth by saving lives during the blizzard.


    A slight buzzing around his temples he was by now familiar with announced Gring employing her powers.


    "So," he said, gazing at the wagons covered with cloth and hides to block out the wind that would otherwise have passed unhindered through the wheels, "shall it be Zeus, Odin or even Robin Hood taking the center of the stage tonight?"


    "Such a choice is yours alone, master of wonders from times when honor and glory were still unsullied."


    Arthur glanced at Trai. Gring''s magic with languages could never fully be preparation enough for such a mode of speech. Damn, the dark skinned man talked that way even when he asked for a cup of water. Arthur wondered how they ever managed to get anything done in Khanati when they spent all that spare time expanding verbally about what they were going to do.


    They walked around part of the circle and entered through the narrow opening downwind.


    "Still, a suggestion. What kind of tale?" Arthur persisted.


    "Whatever comes to your glorious mind. No recollection of yours could possibly be too small or insignificant to be worth listening to."


    Arthur digested Trai''s words but looked at Escha instead. Trai''s follower glowed with pride. Apparently Trai had made a good answer.


    "They need no tale. The need is of you," Gring said.


    "How so?"


    "It''s cold for you halfmen out here. They want hope."


    Arthur gave her an interested look. "Please elaborate!"


    "What you say is less important than what you are. They need the taleweaver, or at least the knowledge that one is traveling among them."


    "I take it you want one of my special performances."


    "Yes. Otherwise I would not speak to you this way."


    Arthur was silent. Again Gring had proved herself to be far more than an over sized monkey who could speak. He would honor her request and once again become Arthur Wallman, the greatest in holo casting the Terran Federation had seen in decades, if not centuries.


    He walked into the flickering light of the fire.


    That night Arthur once again journeyed into himself, crossed the border between the present and the could have been and led an army through a hostile nation, overcoming impossible odds and human fears, borrowing words from another weaver of tales over a thousand years dead. Alone he filled the night with wonder the way Shakespeare had needed an entire troupe to do. Arthur rode with that army, and glancing over his shoulders he saw in the faces of his loyal men the traders and soldiers of the caravan following him high in hope that he would lead them safely back to England.


    That night, even though Arthur was unaware of it, the legend of a new taleweaver started to spread.


    ***


    "And wing! Wing, I said, not spearhead."


    Nakora sighed and rode to catch up with her soldiers. They got it wrong again.


    "Wing, young Takarak, means you wait for those further back in the column when they break to form the line, or you shall be alone when you charge."


    The soldier, more a boy than an adult shot her an irritated glance. Too young to accept a female commander she knew he still didn''t dare to openly challenge her. Until married she was in all effects lord of the Weinak family. That legal status would vanish on her wedding night when the new lord took possession of her body as well as title. At the moment that was a minor problem.


    Gods! Even mercenaries from Keen are better trained than we are.


    She threw a longing gaze at Captain Laiden''s troops as they routed her flanks in the mock battle.


    Both sides returned to their starting positions and she had more time than she wanted to mull over her precarious command. A nagging suspicion started to take its toll of her, had for eightdays now. Would her soldiers follow her lead if the disciplined mercenaries from Keen didn''t show her their respect as openly as they did?


    Maybe she ought to get married after all. That left the awkward question of a suitable husband. Lord Garak? Nakora smiled. Clan lord Garak from Khi would definitely be a suitable choice, but by now she was certain he wasn''t Clan lord Garak at all. A younger son perhaps. Lord, though, he was, of one kind or another, and he still held a certain attraction. That thought made her blush slightly, but met with her approval nonetheless. It made her more moral somehow. Her wants, not merely something suitable.


    Is that really what I want?


    She blushed again.


    ***


    The day was cold. Not the windy hell they''d encountered in the mountains but a brisk, quiet cold he remembered from childhood. Arthur saw his breath rising in small clouds when he exhaled. Almost like one of those glorious winters from home, but here there wasn''t anyone to call if he got lost. This wasn''t a cold he could chose for a weeks travel, safe in his knowledge that someone would come to his rescue if an accident happened. Memories of his failure during the blizzard still clung to him and hurt, but as with memories of his family they were no longer raw, and a long talk with Harbend and Gring had eased the worst of his shame.


    He sniffed, almost like Gring. A gust of cold wind crawled inside his coat and made him shiver. It played with his hair, seeped into his nostrils and teased him into a sneeze. He looked up just in time to meet Chaijrild''s disapproving glare. She was still avoiding Harbend and made a show of seeking Arthur''s company as often as possible. He''d even tried to talk with her mother, but that attempt only met with rough laughter. The matron told him in no uncertain terms that if he had any problems with the girl he''d better bring them up with her directly.


    "... day here. The ... makes me remember when I was a child," Chaijrild said, breaking his thoughts.


    "I''m sorry. I didn''t understand it all."


    "Beautiful day. ... brings ... back to me."


    He realized she had tried to rephrase her earlier sentence.


    "One word I can''t understand. The, eh, liat?"


    She gave him a bewildered look. Then she dismounted and gathered snow in her hands. He pointed at the whiteness around them and she nodded. So, liat was snow. He barely had time to finish the thought before a ball of it caught him full in the face. He shook off the stinging cold.


    "You bloody little wench. I''ll teach you about snowballing!"


    She stared at him, an expression filled with incomprehension spreading over her face, and he realized he''d spoken in English. He dismounted and slowly explained in De Vhatic while at the same time squeezing a ball of snow in his hands. She giggled and ran away shrieking in delight when he threw it at her. Some things were the same on both worlds he mused as he mounted his horse again.


    He was about to give her chase when he heard voices calling. Nakora Weinak, the commander of the escort from Ri Khi, was riding towards him at full gallop, Gring running beside her horse, matching its speed without any visible strain. What could be important enough to risk both horse and rider in snow covering anything that could trap them both? He watched them coming closer and blinked away the stinging light of the sun reflected in the snow.


    They were between the vanguard and the long column of wagons. A day earlier he''d ridden the entire stretch along the caravan. Close to ten kilometers, an undertaking of a magnitude he could never have guessed that day in late summer when Harbend told him about his planned enterprise.


    The escort seemed insufficient to protect the endless line vanishing behind the horizon if you rode at one end of it. He seemed insufficient as well.


    His reputation as a taleweaver spread in the caravan, and he had to stay at a campfire each night to tell a tale or two before going to sleep. Still, less than half had been given a chance to hear him, and he somehow understood he needed to give them all an opportunity unless some of them should feel offended. Some would anyway. He''d heard rumors of dissatisfaction concerning some of the traders from Ri Khi.


    Gring, Escha and Trai still followed him whenever he went to spin a tale, and even though it had been but once more that he had done what they called a Weave they followed him with dog-like loyalty. Of course he wouldn''t be much use without Gring. It was, after all, her magic that allowed him to tell his tales. Arthur wondered what to tell this evening. Even though there was no lack of heroic tales he was still stunted by the need to come up with a new and fresh legend each night.


    Once again he blinked away the sunshine from his eyes, and when a cold gust of wind tempted him to open them. Nakora and Gring were both almost there, and he felt the familiar tingling as Gring cast the spell crossing almost all borders set up by languages.


    "Why such a hurry?" he called out, both as a question and a greeting.


    "Tomorrow night, or the night after, we eat hot food and some may even feel the luxury of a warm bed." Nakora was grinning as she spoke.


    Arthur favored her another glance. She was sweating around her temples despite the cold. It must have been a hard ride, but her glittering eyes told him she had enjoyed it. "Have you found a town large enough to host us all?" he asked.


    "No, not that large. It will not happen until we reach Belgera at the end of our journey. However, we have found a town, and I guess it shall be a welcome rest for the caravan."


    He thought about it. A bed, yes that would be good, but a bathhouse, now that would be fabulous. He wondered if the people here had such luxuries.


    "You didn''t see any lakes or a river close to the town?" he said, voicing his private thoughts in a question.


    Gring gave him a glance. "No, we were too far away to see a river, and a lake would only look like more snow covered grass.


    That made sense. He was used to winter, but he''d never ridden through open terrain like this with nothing but snow around him.


    "There is something else as well. Gring thinks we saw a dragon pack in the distance," Nakora said.


    Arthur shivered. "How bad is that?"


    "I would not worry too much. There are large herds of horses on the plains, and gherins. Dragonlings usually hunt easier prey than humans."


    "Gherin?"


    Nakora pointed across the snow.


    What the bloody hell is that? A dinosaur, glittering scales shining even at this distance, and as all other strange lizards they''d caught earlier, six-legged. Huge, easily the size of an elephant. "Dangerous?"


    "If you stand in front of it, yes I guess. I have heard they breed them in Braka, but here it means food. Lots of food. Today we hunt."


    Arthur was still not entirely convinced. "So you say that there''s no danger?"


    "I would not go that far. Always keep an eye open. Especially if you are alone."


    Not a very comforting thought. "Should we ride in advance and join with the rest then?" Arthur asked.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Nakora gave him an amused look, and looking past her shoulder Arthur saw the rest of the vanguard approaching. He smiled back.


    "I guess not."


    ***


    Trai kicked snow from his feet. Melting it would have been faster, but he seemed to use his gift all day long in the wintry horror surrounding them. Horses and oxen needing easy grazing, starting fires for cooking and heating cold wagons. Sometimes mundane means were better, even if for no other reason than avoiding Escha''s anger.


    Care, it really was care. Trai knew the results of a backlash from his own experience, but the gift was like a fine wine, and he never got tired of feeling it coursing through his body. Escha, well Escha was always the careful one, never to use any when it was not needed. Unless when bringing a message down hard on those who needed to fear his might, like he had done when jumping them both inside the Roadhouse. It would be a year or more before any battle mages from Rhuin dared sleeping in their own barracks without two of them standing guard inside in addition to those patrolling the walls.


    A pity none but Escha mastered the ability to jump safely into a building without guidance from someone on the inside. Well, they didn''t know that in Rhuin.


    The reason for his fierce pride came up from behind.


    "Bad feelings running rampant," Escha said.


    Trai searched for listeners but found none. "No lessons tonight then?"


    "Afraid not. Tomorrow maybe."


    Trai nodded.


    "You know, I quite liked the courtly expressions Lord Wallman used the other night," Escha said as if reminded of their tale telling lessons."


    "I guess so," Trai admitted sourly. "It''s a bastard''s work keeping appearances up, though," he continued, thinking about the real reason for his prolonged stay away from home.


    "The need is absolute. We''ll continue to learn from the tales for as long as Lord Wallman will have us. There''s no better teacher than a Weave with kings and courtiers."


    Trai grimaced. "I''ll start vomiting on my own words soon. I''d hoped for a tale well told before returning home, not a season freezing my butt off in the wilderness becoming one."


    Escha laughed and hugged him. "I love you, master of mine, but you need to be seen as nothing but a pleasure seeker."


    "I still hate it. Why can''t I just take my position among the dukes and be done with it?"


    "Master, please," Escha pleaded. "I didn''t dig up the sun storm gift. You did. Now you have the powers to reduce an entire city to cinders."


    Trai''s eyes widened. He rapidly made the calculations in his head. The result disgusted him.


    An entire city? Unholy gods, dear Escha, you''re wrong, my love. I could wipe all of Ira from living memory. "I''d never..."


    "I know that, and you know that. Our neighbors don''t. Be patient. Ten years or less and the gift of reduction will be common enough knowledge to release you from the needs of this charade."


    Trai waited for the patient lecturing to continue. It was schooling of another kind, and somewhere deep inside he admitted he wasn''t exactly a master of politics.


    "Enough Khars must learn how to disable the casting of sun storms. That disgusting gift should never have been rediscovered in the first place. Please play the petty lordling and keep everyone in the belief that the only glowing suns you''re interested in are the jewels on your costumes."


    "I still don''t like being laughed at behind my back," Trai sulked.


    "You''d better learn to savor that feeling. We don''t want Dragonwrath all over again. Once that gift is used..." Escha shuddered. "More could master it. I don''t doubt for a moment Khars from Rhuin could reduce Khanati to ashes should the wars ever escalate to the point where we no longer restrain our use of the gift in battle to insignificant battle mages." Escha''s voice went softer. "At least we''re in this together."


    "At least that, my love," Trai murmured.


    "And Lord Wallman''s tales are well worth sharing," Escha added.


    "They are," Trai agreed, "and he kept our hopes up," he said, remembering how winter had closed its hand around their hearts after claiming the lives of the unlucky and careless. He would play his part, and who knew, maybe one day he would master the art of tale telling himself -- a taleweaver he would never be.


    The sound of horses closing in on them made him let go of Escha. Time again to prove he was learning well. Trai turned and bowed low enough for his sleeves to sweep the ground.


    "What brings you here Lord Captain. I''m honored by your arrival on such a kingly steed, a magnificent beast well befitting a lady of your station."


    Captain Weinak bowed ironically in her saddle. "Just patrolling, Lord Achnai."


    She passed him with her men in tow. He suspected most didn''t understand the Veric he had used, but some sneered at him nonetheless.


    ***


    The meeting was a shambles, but at least Arthur got to know he had the two mages to thank for more than he''d realized. A few angry exchanged outbursts from the men assembled were enough for him to realize that without them they would have buried even more people after the blizzard in the mountains. Trai had apparently almost spent himself utterly by warming those rescued before cold blood from arms and legs could stream to the center of their bodies and kill them after they were brought back to camp. Over a dozen lives were saved that way.


    The meeting, though, was still a shambles.


    They stood in the open, a large ground of stamped snow ringed by wagons to provide shelter from the wind. Although the shouting had gone on for some time now people still arrived to take part in it. They wore more sensible clothes now than they had when departing from the Roadhouse. Heavy cloaks and coats, some furs and thick leather jackets. Almost all were gloved and most of them also covered their heads in one way or another. The mages from Khanati were the only ones walking around in silks only, but Arthur knew they donned heavier clothes when out of eyesight. Some stupid display of appearance and arrogance, but that was not his business.


    One greybeard, in his early fifties as far as Arthur could measure, walked to the center to get attention.


    "I say we turn around and end this stupid mission." His bearded face was immediately surrounded by a cloud of his breath, settling to add some more icy crystals to his beard and hair. "I say we return home before more of us die."


    The rumors of dissatisfaction were true after all, Arthur registered with a sigh.


    "And I say we don''t." The retort came from Arthur''s right, and he turned to see who had spoken.


    "Why not?" This time from his left. He gave up finding out who said what and concentrated on trying to understand in what direction the arguments would eventually turn.


    "No one promised us it was going to be easy. No one." It was the same voice Arthur had tried to find earlier, and this time a woman stepped out in the circle to be seen. "The mighty Khars are here to help us, and with their help this is as easy as it''s ever going to be."


    "Their help? Dandies from Khanati both of them."


    "What about it? My wife would be dead if Khar Escha had not jumped her to Ri Nachi." The voice was filled with emotions, most spelling gratitude and awe.


    "Khar Escha! Bah! As long as fagot Achnai finds his pleasure with this journey he shall order his little boy slave to do anything that will buy our sympathy."


    "You ungrateful son of a whore! That slave is the only reason you are able to stand here today and voice your filth."


    Arthur searched for his companions. He was worried Trai might do something horrible, and one question needed an answer. Slave? Could that really be true? Across the circle Escha met his eyes, but instead of displaying any rage he patted his temples with both hands and looked skywards with outstretched arms in a show of great melodrama Arthur had come to recognize as a part of gestures usual to the men from Khanati. It still helped Arthur to know the insults meant less than nothing to them. But, slaves? The concept was abhorrent to Arthur, and he was surprised all the same he hadn''t considered the possibility. After all, slavery hadn''t been abolished on Earth since after his ancestors had advanced far beyond the people here.


    A roar caught his attention.


    "Go home coward! Go home but go alone and don''t shame the rest of us!"


    "You dare to call me coward? You, a filthy bitch who fail to keep silent among men?"


    "Yes, I do. I''m not afraid as your excuse for wives are. I''m proud of my husband, and he can be proud of me. We don''t use marriage as a substitute for slavery in Erkateren!"


    "Dirty whore! Do not call my wife a slave! She is a proper woman, not a loudmouthed piece of filth like you!"


    Arthur walked away in disgust. They were not making any progress, and the insults had reached a level where he didn''t even want to listen to them any longer. There wasn''t a semblance of interest in talking about the matter at hand now, and with so many people armed here he didn''t want to witness any fights arising if they decided insults weren''t enough. They were all primitive. Primitive in their minds rather than lacking technology.


    Damn them all! Damn you to whatever hell you believed in.


    He angrily broke snow under his feet as he tried to find anyone who made sense, but the only member of the caravan he truly trusted to behave like a civilized human walked at his side and was an ape looking like a monster considering herself the only human present. At the moment he was bound to agree.


    ***


    Arthur looked up from the fire as Harbend arrived. The man looked grimly satisfied. At least something good must have come out of the meeting earlier.


    "And?" Arthur asked before Harbend had a chance to sit down.


    "We continue tomorrow. We are going to visit the town the scouts found."


    Arthur slowly sighed with relief. So they''d managed to come to a constructive conclusion after all.


    "And all are happy?" he asked more as a joke than anything else.


    "Of course not, but everyone continuing has promised to work for the same goal."


    "Then I guess some are returning."


    "No, no one shall return. We came to an agreement on that as well. A bit costly, but we decided we could not have anyone undermining the positions of the remainders."


    Arthur nodded. Some politicking he could understand.


    "Then I guess the ones forced to continue will make little noise from now on?"


    Harbend shrugged uncomfortably rather than replying, and Arthur gave him a quizzical glance. When Harbend refused to answer the silent question Arthur frowned and voiced it. "And? How are you going to keep them from making trouble in the future?"


    "It has been taken care of." Harbend rose and left the dancing circle of light. Arthur started to get to his feet but changed his mind and sat down again. He looked at Gring, but she said nothing. They sat in silence until long wails in the distance forced Arthur to his feet. The cries were almost inhuman, almost. He made for the darkness but a heavy hand on his shoulder forced him to turn.


    "Sit!" Gring hissed.


    "But, don''t you hear?"


    "Yes, I hear. Better than you do. Three of your kind and six dragonlings."


    "But what''s happening?" Arthur tried to pry himself free, but Gring''s grip was too strong.


    "Master Garak promised you that the problems had been taken care of. For an oath breaker he is strangely honorable."


    Somehow Arthur knew what was going on, but his mind denied it, and he refused to believe it could happen, refused to believe it was happening right now, but from the darkness the wails of fear, pain and desperation continued until they subsided into a silence possibly even more ghastly.

 Chapter nine, Sea of Grass, part two

    Late in the morning the caravan slowly resumed its snaking trail across the plains. Traders and drivers were silent; subdued but also looking ahead with eyes that shone with a new firmness.


    Arthur could see the resolve they had gained, and it made him sick. Only those few who had joined them early on seemed to share his sentiment, but they were too few and too frightened to voice their thoughts about the justice meted out the night before.


    He spent as much time as he could with the vanguard, especially when the escort under Captain Laiden had the duty. Arthur knew he was trying to avoid Harbend as much as possible.


    Of the soldiers, those hired in Verd and the smaller contingent arriving together with Captain Weinak''s men, hardened as they might be, talked little about the horrid executions. In difference from the more heavily armed soldiers making out the majority of Nakora''s command they boasted nothing about them at all.


    They rode in silence, slowly ascending and Arthur could see apprehension in faces that had been grave and solemn, and after a while he also started to share their enthusiasm for whatever they expected to see on the other side of the summit. They reached the crest and for the first time Arthur could see for himself where they were heading. Far, far away a town spread out like a dark rug on the snow. It was surrounded by walls, wooden most probably. The town was closer to the mountains than they were and he guessed the mountainsides were covered by trees here as well. The palisade looked small and insignificant, but so did everything watched from a distance out here. He guessed it would tower above them when they came close, but from here it promised heat, blessed heat, and shelter from the wind.


    Not all of them would be allowed inside of course. At least not at the same time, but he hoped the people living there would want to make some money and sell them food. If they were lucky there might even be a tavern or two somewhere inside.


    He rubbed his beard with the back of his hand. Short enough to be coarse through the leather of his glove, it was still a beard; the first he had sported for over thirty years, unkempt, dirty and rough, and he wondered when the stubble had found time to grow so long. His wife would never have agreed to his appearance, but on days like these anything covering his face was protection much needed.


    It took them the better part of afternoon to get there, and daylight was giving way to dusk before he could get a close look. During the day anticipation grew in the caravan. It was almost tangible, a feeling of increased safety. It was as if they all forgot what had happened less than a day earlier, and Arthur slowly accepted that some things were very different on Otherworld.


    They rode closer, snow creaking under the hooves, and as he had guessed the stockade grew to dominate his view when they came close. A closed wooden gate, flanked by two watchtowers, was the only entry point he could see. This close he could see that there was indeed a narrow river flowing through the town. They would have fresh water after all, and maybe, just maybe hot baths. He would pay a lot for a tub with steaming water even if they had no oils or aromatic herbs.


    When they were almost at the gates they opened and riders rode out to flank the wagon train. Startled Arthur wondered about the reception, but as he looked backwards he could see that not all of the caravan had made it to the crest where he''d first seen the town. The seemingly endless line of wagons, however familiar to him, with its armed escort was a threat to anyone not expecting the sight.


    Arthur started searching for Gring but couldn''t find her. He wondered if the people here spoke any language they could understand. Then Captain Weinak suddenly was beside him.


    "I talk with ... to ... caravan," she said to him in De Vhatic, and without bothering to make certain he had understood she moved forward and addressed someone he assumed she had identified as being in charge. They spoke for a while in a language that had to be Khi, but apart from a few words Harbend had translated for him, Arthur was too unfamiliar with the language to be certain.


    After some time Harbend joined them, and from his expression when he joined the conversation Arthur could see that if they did indeed speak Khi, it must be in a dialect very difficult for Harbend to understand.


    Arthur gave up any pretense of being useful and withdrew to the rest of the escort where they stood as ready to either respond to an attack or enjoy themselves if they were finally allowed on the inside of the stockade. In the end they were let in, and while Harbend and Nakora haggled about the terms with the man Nakora had addressed earlier Arthur rode in search for an inn.


    The streets were not paved at all, but sidewalks of wood allowed people to walk along the streets without getting too muddy. The streets themselves were a dirty, smelly mix of manure, mud and straw, and only the cold kept them from being too soft for the wagons.


    He sniffed. The cold probably kept the worst of the smell away as well.


    Arthur watched people milling around the streets stopping as they passed by, and for the second time in a short while he was reminded of just how large the caravan was. Even though only a small portion of them had been let in almost a hundred traders, guards and servants spread out in the town with wagons and horses already taking up more space at the gate than it was built to handle.


    It was clear most of them would never be allowed in at the same time, and for a while a town would grow up outside the gates.


    Almost like the market outside of Verd, Arthur remembered.


    He saw a sign possibly depicting food and decided to take his chances. It wasn''t as if he was doing anything dangerous anyway. Two traders and Captain Laiden followed him with several soldiers trailing them. Arthur dismounted and tethered his horse to a wooden rail. The entire town made him feel like visiting a holiday hub on the American plains, one dedicated to an earlier era of exploration, but the houses here were smaller, and some were clad in large mosaics of hides as additional protection from the wind, something he''d never seen before.


    Arthur entered the building and came into a narrow, short corridor ending at yet another door. It made sense. He looked over his shoulder.


    "Close door. I open door second," he said in De Vhatic.


    He waited for the door to close, opened the inner one and crossed the threshold. A large room, sparsely lit by torches and open fires, already half full with men of all ages busy talking with each other or eating. Maybe not an inn, but definitely a tavern of some kind. It wouldn''t be too long before Harbend found his way here, or at least someone from Ri Khi who could translate their needs for the night. Until then Arthur planned to stay indoors and get something to eat and drink.


    "This tavern high quality? We stay standard unit evening and trade dinner?" he asked Trindai.


    The captain nodded and sat down at a table, and as Arthur did the same they were joined by the two traders. Pointing at the other guests and his stomach and mouth Arthur managed to order something. It would be a surprise, but then anything would''ve been, even if he''d been able to speak their language.


    Soon steaming mugs were placed on their table and Arthur tried to get a better look at his surroundings. He was sitting on a bench, resting his feet on earthen floor and with a mug of what he hoped was heated wine in his hands. It smelled strongly of alcohol anyway. He caressed the mug and let the heat seep through his fingers. It didn''t matter what it was as long as it was hot enough to banish the ever-present cold. Arthur tried a mouthful. If it was wine it was of a kind he''d never drunk before. There was a salty tinge to it that wasn''t unpleasant. Altogether it tasted somewhat like a consomm¨¦ mixed with strong liquor. Not bad. Not bad at all. He emptied the mug and belched. One more of these and he''d feel life returning.


    Hides covered part of the walls, or more probably, window slits to keep winter outside. Several fireplaces lined the center of the rectangular room, kettles hanging from hooks over the flames, and Arthur could see the fires were built on stone with what had to be ovens in the middle of each. As if to confirm his assumption a heavyset man grabbed a long shafted baking peel hanging on a wall and fished out a loaf of bread, placed it on a nearby table and put a large piece of kneaded dough on the spade before inserting it into the oven.


    Arthur looked up as Trindai returned with a tray full of mugs and small bowls.


    "Food and drink. Now we ... !"


    Arthur didn''t need understanding it all. The happy grin spreading over Trindai''s weatherbeaten face was explanation enough, and the four of them were soon busy eating and drinking, a joy needing no spoken words.


    The bread was excellent, and the horseflesh, well at least it was better seasoned than the animals brought down by the escort. Hunting horse and six legged lizards, now that was another difference from Earth.


    ***


    "Nakora, are you done with your troops yet?"


    She turned before answering. "Almost done. Wait for me at the gates."


    Harbend did so. He looked her over again as she swaggered away in the direction of one of her officers, hips moving alluringly with each step. She really was a fine looking woman, even when covered in fur hiding most of her features.


    Harbend looked forward to getting indoors, as Arthur surely must have done by now. Gods! Sometimes it would be good to share the responsibility, but then Harbend''s future depended on his being able to see the caravan becoming prosperous. The shocking numbers of wagons coming from Ri Khi told him more than his personal future depended on the success of the caravan. The diminishing trade with Keen must have struck harder than he''d realized. It was bad enough for Erkateren, but Keen was to a larger extent a pass through market for wares produced in Ri Khi as well as goods imported, and so the blockade hurt them twice as hard.


    They would succeed. They had to. No matter the cost.


    Somewhere deep inside him Harbend accepted he was trying to avoid the memory of the executions he''d allowed himself to order. The years in Keen must have made him soft. That thought brought a picture of Arthur to his mind. In ways he was weak, maybe even weaker than those in Keen. But weakness was not the right word. Arthur could be harsh when he needed to, and only an idiot would call Keen weak. They just handled things differently there.


    Nakora returned and with her presence Harbend''s gloomy thoughts gave way.


    "I have ordered them to set camp outside the gates and leave a wide path free," she said with a toothy smile unexpectedly making Harbend''s stomach jolt.


    "You do know we shall be staying here for some days?" he asked.


    "Yes. The town is large enough for some of us to trade here. A market?"


    Harbend agreed. A market would be good for their reputation.


    "Some of us will return," Nakora continued.


    Harbend halted, turning towards her as he broke stride. "I know, and I believe it is good. People back home need to know they can trade over the mountains, and we shall fail to be back until summer. I hope smaller caravans will be on their way by then." She wasn''t only very pleasant to watch, but there was a perceptive mind there as well.


    "Gods! If he could have waited two more days!" Nakora grimaced as they passed through the gates.


    Harbend didn''t need an explanation. Two more days and three traders would still be alive. If the troublemakers had just waited two more days he wouldn''t have been forced to order the grizzly executions. They could have turned back with the traders who would return home. He swore silently and his black thoughts slowly returned.


    They walked in silence until they reached a building with several saddled horses tethered close by. Grooms were stabling them one by one.


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    "Ours?" Harbend asked.


    "Ours," Nakora confirmed. "From Erkateren," she added. "This place should be as good as any other. Hungry?"


    Harbend smiled. "Yes, very."


    They entered.


    ***


    Just as Nakora had guessed the camp quickly became a market. Harbend was strolling around, listening to traders and townspeople haggling, buying and selling. He walked around a wagon and nodded to a pair of traders from Ri Khi.


    "... see the pelts? The size of those scales?"


    "Cannot dye them, but the Khraga in Ri Kordari will pay a fortune anyway."


    "They should. Not like the lizards are commonplace in our woods."


    Harbend smiled and continued. Affairs were good with all parties firmly believing they received a bargain. He stopped just within earshot of a married couple from the town and slowly followed them when they left a carpenter.


    "I don''t care. That good for nothing sister of yours can stay in her tent. I want a civilized home."


    "Silent, dear. You embarrass us."


    "I''ll talk as loudly as I want. Buy another pair of chairs! That should pay for bows as well as pelts. Maliander bought a cupboard and a bed, and they''re our neighbors! I won''t have it!"


    The man sighed, but Harbend could see that he was defeated. Grinning widely Harbend made his way to another part of the market. Yes, affairs were progressing well.


    ***


    Harbend managed to organize a meeting with the self styled king who in reality handled the duties of a mayor. With a multitude of luxuries entering the town in exchange for hides, furs, heavy winter''s clothes and a large amount of bows and arrows it was a very satisfied king he met, and they broke the meeting with mutual promises of friendship and future trade.


    An eightday passed before it was time to resume their journey. It took a full day to break camp, and when the caravan finally headed east thirty wagons took the trail back again escorted by a small group of Nakora''s soldiers.


    Two days later Harbend found time and resolve to talk with Arthur about the executions. It was clear he''d avoided the subject, and Harbend wasn''t happy about them growing apart because of something that had to be done.


    Early in the morning he saddled a horse and rode in search of his friend. The cold had changed and become drier and the perpetual winds were not as harsh as earlier. It was almost pleasant to ride as long as he didn''t bring his horse to a gallop. He continued, always keeping the wagons to his right until he finally found Arthur.


    "I think we need to talk," Harbend said after they had exchanged greetings.


    Arthur looked back. "About what?"


    "I need to know if you understand what happened that night before we came to the town."


    "I know. Captain Laiden told me, or rather explained it to me. I heard perfectly well for myself what was happening, and the remains told me what I hadn''t guessed already."


    "It had to be done, you know."


    Arthur didn''t answer, and the steaming clouds of breath between them soon became a barrier that had to be torn down.


    "I did not like it, but it was necessary," Harbend tried again.


    "I don''t care if it was necessary. It was inhuman and barbaric. Nothing you say can make me accept it. Understand, yes, accept, never."


    "But you do understand?"


    "Yes, and that shames me. Now, if you excuse me, I''m going to find a place where I can think this over in private. I''m not angry with you. Ah, no. That''s a lie. I am, but I understand that this is what you are, or rather what this world is, and I need some time."


    With those words Arthur rode ahead along the column. Harbend watched him join a patrol heading for the vanguard. Gring ran with them.


    Harbend saw the need to leave Arthur with his thoughts. Maybe it was better this way. Arthur had always come around in the end. Harbend rode back. He wanted something to drink. Cider perhaps. Well, that meant paying Lianin a visit, and there was worse company to have.


    Getting there didn''t take much time, and he could see her wagon from a distance. It had become a tavern on wheels of sorts, and there was always a small group of customers trailing alongside.


    The company did indeed turn out well enough and Harbend was still leading his horse along her wagon half a day later when she sought his attention.


    "Look, riders!" she called and pointed.


    Harbend followed Lianin''s fingers with his eyes. There were several riders out there. Men or women, he didn''t know, but he assumed they were men.


    "They are coming here. I wonder what they want," he asked, more to himself than to Lianin in her wagon.


    "I don''t know. Maybe they''re just curious."


    "Wait here! I shall ride ahead and ask Nakora. She should be making her men ready to relieve the vanguard by now." He didn''t wait for Lianin''s answer but mounted instead. He forced the horse into a slow gallop, passing by the wagon train to his right.


    Hopefully the riders, still approaching, were just curious, but Harbend wanted to be certain. He had almost caught up with Nakora when he saw Trindai coming back with his men. Nakora rode to meet him, and whatever decision they made they did so without earshot of Harbend.


    The way Nakora raced back along the column with her men startled Harbend. They passed him without so much as a greeting, and shortly ahead of him he could see Trindai deploy his own troops. Harbend''s feelings sunk.


    "Lord Garak, You should take cover." Captain Laiden''s voice.


    "Why? What if they just want to talk?"


    "No talking, M''lord. Look!"


    There were hundreds of them, and even to Harbend it was clear they were charging. How could they have come so close so fast? Human predators, dangerous in ways dragonlings this side of Keen''s coast would never be.


    "Stay behind your wagons! Regroup on my order!"


    Harbend saw Trindai concentrating on measuring the distance to the charging riders.


    "Ready! Aim! Loose!"


    A small swarm of quarrels met arrows speeding in the other direction. Most of the arrows stuck harmlessly in the wagons but as far as Harbend could see almost all quarrels felled a horseman. Then the riders were through the line of wagons.


    "Regroup!" The soldiers rolled under the wagons and came up on the other side. "Reload! Aim! Loose!"


    Another swarm of quarrels met the riders as they were charging back. Then the endless snow was suddenly replaced by a roaring wall of flame and only burning remains of horses and men emerged through it.


    That must be Trai''s work.


    Muted screams echoed from further back along the caravan. Not all of them had been as lucky.


    He rose from his cover between the wheels and followed the trail of wagons with his eyes. Sharp lances of fire and lightning in the distance told him where the battle mages had taken a stand and long before he''d made his mind up on how they could survive the onslaught most of the escort where already on their horses racing in support of the beleaguered wagons. Hopefully they''d get there in time to make a difference.


    Still watching the riders he heard someone moaning close to him. A woman. Not all of the arrows had missed their targets. She held her hands to her throat clutching a long arrow. He doubted if she''d live, but decency if nothing else forced him to try comforting her. He sat with her head in his lap, giving her empty lies of hope until she died. Afterwards he rose, weary beyond reason.


    In the distance he saw Trindai riding towards him. The captain was flanked by soldiers, some of them obviously wounded. Harbend stood beside the wagon where he was easier seen and waved to the riders. He remained standing there until they were within speaking distance never even bothering to cover himself against the biting cold.


    "Captain, what news?" he called.


    "M''lord! Those who didn''t flee are dead or dying. We lost a few as well, but it could''ve been worse."


    "How many?" Harbend demanded.


    "Five dead and ten wounded, M''lord, two of whom we don''t know if they can be helped by our magehealers."


    Harbend swore and pointed behind him. "Make that six dead."


    Trindai bowed his head in respect. "Still, could''ve been worse," he said silently.


    "You are right, I guess," Harbend said tiredly. "Where is Arthur? I thought he was riding with you in the vanguard."


    "He was, M''lord, but chose to stay behind when we rode back to change."


    Harbend made a mental calculation. That must have been well before the attack. Arthur was alone somewhere ahead of them waiting for Nakora''s troops.


    As if reading his thoughts Trindai spoke again. "The Khraga''s with him, M''lord, and the girl, Chaijrild."


    Of course, Gring would accompany Arthur, but the girl. That was unwise. "Chaijrild?"


    "Yes, we met her on our way back here."


    The little idiot! Riding away alone like that. Gods! Some people just never learned.


    "Captain, send out a patrol to tell Arthur what has happened." Harbend looked away. "No, bring them back instead. They are safer here."


    "Yes, M''lord. Will do."

 Intermezzo

    "How does it feel to be back again?"


    Erwin smiled weakly. "It''s been a long time. Strange, place seems larger now. Is usually the other way around."


    It had been a long time, over ten years since he was in command of the construction of the launch port. He''d been a lowly lieutenant then, and life somehow easier.


    "That''s because it is larger now. We''re expanding the launch port. Should be able to launch twice a week within the year. At least that''s the plan."


    Erwin looked at the insignias on the uniform. A major. By the looks of the man he had to be some bureaucrat given rank to continue turning papers here.


    "Are you within schedule?"


    "As of now, yes, but you know how it is with a construction project. Anything that can go wrong probably will. Especially here."


    Erwin grunted in response.


    "Admiral?"


    "Any accidents?"


    "Accidents? Ah, no, this time we''re expanding with the leave of the local government. Actually they''re requesting we do so."


    "And why would that be?"


    "Come with me. They can explain for themselves."


    They left for the terminal building. It had been expanded as well. Most of it had to be rather recent. Well, it would be needed if they were drastically increasing the number of shuttles handled each month.


    When they entered Erwin was surprised to see the luxurious furniture. Definitely an improvement. He was approached by a middle-aged woman when he noticed that the major had left him alone.


    "Pleased to meet you," she said and bowed.


    The woman knew English. Maybe she could explain what this was all about. Erwin stared down at her and smiled back. "My pleasure." Forgot how short they are here.


    "Please have a seat. I''m Mairild de Felder. I''m representing the Council of Twelve, what you would call our government."


    "Erwin Radovic. I''m a Terran diplomat with the rank of admiral."


    "Excellent! My position is Minister of Arts."


    Erwin sat down in the chair offered to him.


    "I''m pleased to meet you, Mairild de Felder. Minister of Arts you said?"


    "I did."


    "And for what reason are you negotiating with me. I may be a diplomat, but my background is a military one. I have little to offer if we are to discuss cultural exchange between our worlds."


    Mairild smiled. "I have, ah, other responsibilities as well."


    "How so?"


    "Let me put it this way. In Keen all information is considered to be of interest to the Ministry of Art."


    Erwin considered this for a while. "I''ll be damned," he growled. "You''re just like Clayton."


    "I don''t know who this Clayton is, but from your reaction I guess he or she is your superior."


    "Just like Clayton," Erwin murmured.


    "Well, if we''re in agreement that I''m indeed the person to negotiate the matters at hand, could we please proceed?" She smiled at him and he wondered who''d taught her English. Well, if she was in intelligence she probably had access to the very best of any resources available here.


    "Yes, yes I guess we should," he sighed. Damn Clayton! You''ll pay for this surprise later.


    "First, there''s the matter of your taleweaver here."


    "Taleweaver? Oh, sorry, yes Arthur Wallman. How did you find out he was in newscasting?"


    "That was quite evident after he paid a visit to the Taleweaver''s inn in the Roadhouse."


    "Are you telling me that the idiot made a public announcement?" At least he''s still in the capital if she has news of him.


    "I''m not entirely familiar with your terminology, but yes, I guess you could call it that."


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    "Bloody hell!"


    "I understand that you want him to return."


    "Oh yes, very much! We apologize for the problems he''s caused you." Erwin smiled faintly. Let Arthur Wallman loose for a couple of months and he managed to become a national calamity.


    "No need to. I''m here to tell you that we''ll not accept your forcing him to return against his own will."


    "What?"


    "I fail to see my being unclear." There was a hardness in her tone making Erwin wary.


    "He''s a Terran citizen," he tried.


    "He''s also a human being, and more importantly for our negotiations, he''s an honored guest here."


    "I can''t promise you anything, but you''ve made yourself perfectly understood."


    "Good. Now there''s a more pressing problem to be handled first."


    "Go on. I think I know."


    "A mercenary band of yours is stalking Arthur Wallman, and they''re all but discreet."


    "That would be Christina Ulfsdotir, I guess."


    "We don''t know the name of their leader, but we want all of them gone as soon as possible."


    "I''ll send your request to my government."


    "That''s not good enough. I demand that you send troops after them immediately."


    "Why the hurry?"


    "They''ve already burned down one town and killed hundreds of our citizens."


    "What!" Oh my God! I have a bloody military conflict on my hand!


    Memories came crashing down on Erwin. He''d been wrong. Life had not been that much easier back then.


    Minister Felder gave him a quizzical look before she continued. "I suspected you might not know. Anyway, you''re permitted to send in whatever troops you need to hunt them down before they kill more people. As you may have noticed we''ve agreed to let you increase the number of sky ships you can handle here should an event like this ever occur again."


    "I see." Damn! The first piece of news was bad in itself, but this was a first class disaster.


    "It''s our hopes that after this incident is cleared up we''ll see more trading and other exchange between our cultures."


    "As is ours," Erwin agreed, silently relieved the local government wasn''t in more of an uproar than it was. "As for extracting Christina Ulfsdotir and whatever personnel she''s brought along I think the troops we sent here earlier should do."


    "That might, ah, how should I put it, present a minor problem."


    "How so?" Erwin asked with a sinking feeling in his stomach.


    "They seem to be busy elsewhere."


    "Elsewhere?"


    "We learned that they were sent here to hunt for Arthur Wallman, who, I earlier did state, is considered an honored guest of ours, and we had to divert them."


    "Divert them? Where?"


    "To the coast, I''m afraid."


    "But bloody hell! Your entire coast is a war zone!"


    "I know. Your troops have made splendid work of breaking the blockade."


    "Are you telling me you got them involved in your internal affairs?"


    "Not at all. We only made certain they were present there. They got themselves involved without any coercion from our side."


    "Oh hell!" Erwin buried his face in his hands. Goldberger, you''d better get your sorry ass out of there damn quick!


    "You should know that we consider them heroes. We are very grateful for your unsolicited assistance."


    That was small consolation. Clayton would have him skinned for this. Erwin deeply regretted ever coming here, but now it was far too late, and he could only make the best of the shredded remains of his diplomatic mission.

 Chapter ten, Renegade, part one

    Gring sniffed in the air.


    "Something wrong?" Arthur asked.


    Gring didn''t answer, and it wasn''t until he identified the lack of tingling around his temples he remembered that she needed to cast her magic to understand him. He rubbed his temples to make her do so, but she just kept on looking ahead. Something had caught her attention. Behind him he heard a horse coming up. Chaijrild. Her continuous presence was becoming unnerving, and he pretended interest in whatever Gring was watching. She had to be watching something, or by the look of her face, smelling something.


    "What is it?" he asked. Again there was no answer.


    He squinted to see what she had already noticed, and not for the first time he regretted not having asked Harbend to lend him the binoculars. Without them Arthur only saw an endless blanket of white stretching out on all sides of him with only the distant, bluish mountains to their southwest breaking the monotony. In theory anything should stand out as dark blots against the snow, but irregularities made it difficult to see anything as small as a human from far away.


    There was nothing more for him to do but wait until Gring agreed to tell him whatever she had sensed. In the meanwhile he might as well lecture Chaijrild about the dangers of riding alone. He retraced his steps and faced her.


    "Damn you idiot!" He searched for the right words. "This place... too dangerous for... be alone."


    "I know how to... a horse," she answered sullenly.


    "If horse falls it... be hours before you found, if ever."


    "Hours?"


    He stared at her. Ah, hell. "Measurement, Terran standard unit time." He had to stop mixing De Vhatic and English. Well, he hoped the message had come through anyway.


    Gring was still staring out into the whiteness, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn''t see what she saw. Then he felt the tingling telling him Gring intended to speak.


    "Problems. Big problems."


    "What do you see?"


    "Riders. I smell them. Hundreds of riders coming."


    Something cold crawled up Arthur''s spine. "Dangerous?" he asked.


    "Very. I can smell their tension. They will attack soon."


    The caravan would have no head warning. "Hell, we need to warn them!" Arthur shot out.


    "No. We hide. We can do nothing. The wagons are too far away."


    Arthur knew her to be right, but he hated being helpless when something bad was going to happen.


    "Are you sure there isn''t anything we can do?" he asked in desperation.


    "I am certain. We can do nothing appropriate. I only know Captain Laiden well enough to send him a warning, but he''s from Keen so there is much dishonor in forcing the gift on him."


    Arthur looked at her in surprise. What did honor have to do with their companions being in danger? Beside him Chaijrild stood silently watching Gring. The girl had paled as Gring told what was about to happen.


    "They''re in danger. You must warn them!"


    "No. Captain Laiden would never forgive me, and he''s displayed more honor than I''d expect from a halfman. He''d hate you and me both if I did."


    Arthur gulped down an angry retort as he reluctantly accepted what Gring was saying. He turned to Chaijrild. "I''m sorry, but you know Gring would never lie to us."


    "I would, but not about this. That would be dishonorable," Gring countered his statement deadpan.


    Arthur glared at her, and then he went to his horse, unstrapped a small shovel and started digging in the snow. Chaijrild followed his example. He guessed she wanted to have something to do, and they worked in silence. The snow was easy to dig into, and he was certain they would soon have a hole big enough to cover them all. Then a thought struck him.


    "Gring, how do we hide the horses?"


    "We do not. Continue digging. Chaijrild will help me with the horses."


    Arthur didn''t answer, but did as told. From the corner of his eye he could see Chaijrild leave him to join Gring. He concentrated on the job at hand, and within minutes he was warm enough to discard his armored coat. He looked around just in time to see Gring sending their horses back to the caravan.


    "I hope you know what you''re doing," he murmured as the horses vanished.


    "The only way," Gring answered. "I can''t promise it''ll be enough."


    "What do you mean?" Chaijrild demanded.


    "The horsemen. They live here. They can still find us even if we hide. Let us hope they don''t. Now, dig!"


    Arthur had to laugh despite their situation. Practical as always. Chaijrild gave him a dark look and he swallowed the last of his mirth and continued to expand the small cave he''d created. If Gring was correct it would have to be big enough for all three of them very soon.


    "Quick now! I smell riders close."


    They dove into the hole and Arthur covered it from the inside with the coat he''d put aside earlier. If the riders came at them from this side they were bound to notice either the dark leather or the traces leading here, and he understood Gring''s misgivings.


    They were silent. No one had to be told, and they waited. The entire world became a cramped cave of half day, half darkness. They waited until Arthur was stiff and cold, and he dared giving Gring a questioning glance, but she made it clear with only a look that they couldn''t move yet. So close to each other each breath was a scream, every movement a thundering avalanche giving away their position to anyone stalking them on the outside. No real darkness and yet blindness. A brittle cave of snow turned prison and fear clawed itself into his nostrils and he was unable to discern if it was for real or just the smell of damp clothes.


    Suddenly Chaijrild started. "No more!" she yelled and threw aside the coat before bolting.


    "Damn!" Arthur swore and threw himself after her, but Gring held him back.


    "It''s safe," Chaijrild called from the outside, and he was no longer caught in the iron grip of the Khraga. He slowly crawled outside and had to blink in the bright sunlight. Gring followed shortly after.


    "Look, nothing." Chaijrild giggled.


    "You should not look ahead of us, but behind us," Gring stated calmly.


    "But there''s only the caravan behind us," Chaijrild protested.


    "Not any longer. Look!"


    Arthur squinted in the direction they''d come from. Yes, there were riders, but he couldn''t see if they were the patrol to replace the vanguard or others.


    "Are you sure they''re not ours?" he finally asked.


    "I''m certain. They ride on a line, all horses breaking snow. Our escort always rides in a column. Stupid riders. They tire their horses. Even you know better."


    As the riders neared Arthur''s hope slowly evaporated. It was soon evident they were not part of their escort, and with a growing lump of coldness in his stomach he started to grab for his gun. The riders came with bows drawn.


    "What do we do now?"


    "We fight, and then we die," Gring answered.


    Arthur fell to his knees and spread out on the snow, right hand in his left palm, gun as steady as it could be, and prepared for the worst.


    Bloody thing still can''t hit anything at a distance. Well, better than trying to club them with my mace, I guess.


    "Stand you coward!" Gring hissed.


    Arthur didn''t answer at first. Death had seemed a welcome release for close to a year, and he''d become so used to the idea that even now when he found a new value in life the thought still failed to scare him. Instead he felt a peculiar calm mixed with gratitude that he''d awakened to enjoy living again.


    "Stand I said!" Gring repeated.


    Ah, she thinks I''m hiding. "Where is the honor in dying without leaving an impression. I intend to take as many of them with me as possible."


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    "How? Lying like a scared animal on the ground?"


    "If I don''t try to teach you how to fight with your weapons I expect you to leave me to handle my own. Be certain that when this is over I''ll have slain more than you." Arthur hoped his boast would be enough for Gring to let him be.


    She grunted and drew her own bow. With something that could have been respect she whispered as she went to her knees, "You are right. You have shamed me."


    Arthur shook his head in disbelief. "Chaijrild, you are weaponless. Take cover!" The explanation was mostly for Gring''s benefit. No need to have her angry over a perceived cowardliness.


    To his relief he saw the girl crawling to the other side of their snow mound. She''d present a smaller target from there. He turned his attention to the riders ahead of them. Just out of bow shot they halted and one of them called out.


    "Khraga, we want you. You walk with us. The other two die."


    "Skinless ones, I dare you to take me alive!"


    A moment''s silence. "You don''t have a chance. Give up!"


    Gring answered with an arrow. Her hulking frame allowed her to use a far heavier bow than the riders and one of them fell to the ground.


    "Don''t make this more difficult!" The voice held anger now.


    She loosed another arrow, and this time she hit a horse. They charged.


    She sent yet one more arrow into the air before the charging bowmen were within range for his gun. He fired four shots in rapid succession felling two men. The sharp sounds sent them reeling. Probably as much as seeing two of their own falling to the ground with holes the size of their heads.


    Momentum, a word he''d been taught long ago. He rose to his feet and strode toward the horses pulling the trigger as if he was training on a firing range. High explosive rounds tore through four more riders before they fled screaming. Chaijrild wailed. Gring hadn''t lost the opportunity brought by the aborted charge, and the retreating horsemen lost two of their own to her arrows.


    "Maybe we don''t die today," she growled.


    Arthur checked his weapon. "Don''t count on it. I only have eight rounds left. That''ll be enough for four or five of them, no more. The gun isn''t very accurate."


    "Rounds? As in arrows?"


    He nodded.


    "Then we fight well and..., what?"


    Arthur followed her look. "What do you see?"


    "Human!"


    Arthur was about to ask why this was suddenly so important when he remembered how her magic worked. He stared ahead of him until he saw the frame of a Khraga trampling its way closer to the riders. It was huge. The Khraga came up beside a rider and spoke with him. Rider on horseback and standing Khraga speaking face to face and the former looking up. They seemed to come to some kind of agreement and after a while the giant stepped closer.


    "That is a true man, walking so close to death without a weapon," Gring said, and there was pride in her voice.


    He favored her a surprised stare but kept his silence. I''d better just wait and see what happens.


    The giant Khraga came a little bit closer before checking his steps.


    "I am Kharg dhara Braugdi. You fight well," he boomed.


    "I am Gring ghara Khat. You are brave. The halfman with me fights with honor."


    "I am told there are two halfmen with you. Only one fights."


    "One is a weaponless child. She does not know the way."


    "I can agree to kill only her."


    "That we cannot accept."


    "Hell no," Arthur added. "Wait, I have an idea." He walked closer to the giant. "How do you want to die today?" he yelled.


    "What do I care about how many of these," Kharg gestured to the riders, "die. You cannot win this fight."


    "Win? Do you really believe I''m concerned with winning? Why should I care about wasting my life on the sorry excuse for soldiers you''ve scraped up in a smelly dung heap when you present such a marvelous prize yourself?"


    "Foolish oath breaker! Do you believe you can harm me?"


    Arthur grinned. The Khraga had taken the bait. "Look at the bodies and answer your own question. I promise I''ll bring such destruction to your body your riders will have to dig five different graves to bury it in."


    Kharg turned over a corpse to have a look at it. It didn''t take long.


    "Gring ghara Khat, if you give up your weapons you will all live."


    What a cold hearted bastard! As if he didn''t even see those wounds. "Can we trust him?" Arthur asked and was rewarded with a furious glare from Gring.


    "Your ignorance is what keeps you alive, halfman! That and your being a taleweaver. Kharg is human. Kharg has said we will live."


    "I have shamed myself." Arthur wasn''t sure he wanted to trust the stranger, but he had to trust Gring, and using one of her expressions to make his own error known was one way to start.


    She didn''t respond but turned to Kharg instead.


    "I will come as you demand, and so will the girl. The halfman, Arthur, will come by his own consent."


    "Why? He should come as I demand." There was consternation in the voice.


    "He''s a taleweaver."


    "I see no taleweaver. I only see a battle mage who fought well."


    "I say he''s a taleweaver."


    "Still he will come as I demand. I say he has deceived you into believing him. You would not dishonor yourself willingly."


    Gring hissed between her tusks. "I saw him Weave in the Roadhouse, and later. There is no deception."


    "The Roadhouse belongs to the oath breakers. Who knows what dishonorable tricks they will play on us humans?"


    Arthur could see that Gring was raging by now. "That is shameful! The Weave is inviolate. Not even oath breakers would stoop as low as you suggest."


    Kharg took a step forward. "Enough! You have said you will come, and so you will!"


    "So I have, and so we will, but know that you have brought shame upon your family as well as mine this day."


    Gring unstrung her bow, and following her example Arthur shut down the primer on his gun before holstering it. He didn''t understand all that had passed, only that Gring had attempted to use his status as a taleweaver to give him some kind of advantage, but of what kind he couldn''t even guess. He walked back and picked up his coat. Standing still was colder than he''d suspected.


    They''d be disarmed, that much was certain. He looked down on his wrist.


    They''re bloody not going to get my notepad! He tried to hide it in his pocket, but it was too large, made as it was to fit around his arm. Now what? Maybe, yes, it fits in my holster. He pocketed his gun instead.


    "What happens now?" he asked when he returned.


    "We go with them, but as prisoners," she answered.


    Well, that much he could have guessed himself. There had to be a meaning to her words, but he was unable to grasp what. He was still standing there when the horsemen took his mace, bound his hands and tied him to a horse. For a short while he was afraid they''d all be forced to run behind the horses, but then he was ordered to mount it.


    Chaijrild screamed, but when it was clear they wouldn''t be hurt immediately she turned quiet and only gave him a frightened look as she was forced onto a horse. He barely dared to return it with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The glance he shot at Kharg''s back was far darker.

 Chapter ten, Renegade, part two

    Arthur bounced down onto the back of the horse again. He was used to riding, but being bound to the back of a horse was a jarring experience he never wanted to be part of again. It seemed to go on for an eternity. Time was a subjective blur of pain. Three times, at least, he''d seen darkness fall, and during the entire time he''d been allowed off the horse less than a dozen times to relieve himself. Three days then, or maybe a little more. They even slept on the horses and he was sore in a way he didn''t believe possible after all the time he''d spent in a saddle the last months. There had to be an end to the torment, and from the looks of the other horsemen they seemed to be nearing it. Arthur tried to look up, but he was too tired to keep his concentration long enough to analyze the small tidbits of information he managed to scrap together, too tired and too hungry. They hadn''t been fed even once during the ride.


    When they finally halted he failed to notice even that. Someone untied him, but he fell asleep before he was dragged off the horse.


    ***


    Gring woke. She sat up and stretched her sore muscles. They were in a cell, more of a pen than a proper prison. The wooden bars were not thick enough to hold her, but the thought of abandoning her companions held her more firmly than any wall could have done.


    She would make sure Kharg paid for his dishonor when they encountered civilized beings again. They were still surrounded by oath breakers, and the only human apart from her made his very best to behave like a halfman himself. That shamed her, that and the fact he''d displayed his dishonor in the presence of halfmen.


    She rose and started walking to bring warmth to her legs. Carefully. She didn''t want to wake Arthur and the girl. They were weak, as all halfmen were, but at least Arthur had shown a resolve that was promising. He couldn''t help being caught in an inferior body, and as long as his mind was strong she had no right to despise him. To do so would be to diminish the honor he''d earned for himself.


    The halfmen intrigued her, had always done. They were weak and fickle. Never to be fully trusted, and yet, sometimes they shone brightly with an inner light as strong as any human. If she hadn''t known better, and darkness knew she''d been given a proper upbringing, she could have thought some of them were almost worthy of being called humans. Not always, of course, but still. That suspicion nagged at her, shamed her at times and made her wonder if she was indeed behaving in an honorable way. Who was she, after all, to question the wisdom of her elders?


    It was curiosity and the need to learn more that had driven her to follow the halfman taleweaver when by all rights she should have started trekking back to Gaz to receive new orders before spring arrived. Well, she were headed in the right direction. She wouldn''t be many eightdays late if she left the caravan at the Brakish border. If she left the caravan, she corrected herself. They were prisoners now, and darkness only knew when she could go back home again.


    She managed another six full circles before her misgivings finally gave way, and then she sat down to meditate. They would be called for when it suited their captors.


    That time came sooner than she believed. Arthur and Chaijrild were still asleep, and Gring had to force them awake. They complained weakly before following her on stiff legs when they were let out.


    A temporary village, what the halfmen called a camp. Tents were erected to create a pattern of streets rather than for easy protection. Stupid, but that was only to be expected from the skinless ones.


    In a distance she saw a pyre. Apparently they burned their dead. They had some decency after all. She sniffed. The air was filled with the smell of burning flesh. The pyre must have been burning for close to half a day.


    Gring saw halfmen around her, some of them women. They gave her looks filled with hatred mingled with fear. That was good. They should fear her. She may not be a warrior, but they must still have known she could kill many of them long before she was brought down.


    She growled at a man who came too close, and it was with some satisfaction she caught the odor of barely controlled fear as he frantically tried to move out of her way. Gring willed her glands to pour out more of the predator''s scent and locked eyes with those facing her. They scattered.


    "Why the show? They are hardly worth it."


    Gring growled. The smell of Kharg was becoming all too familiar by now.


    "Have you forgotten that we used to hunt them?"


    "No, and nor that we were all but wiped out as a result," he replied.


    "Bah! Numbers, nothing else!"


    "You''re not a warrior. Any weapon will do in war. A womans womb is as good as any other weapon. They may be inferior in combat, but darkness, they do know how to breed."


    "Our ancestors should have killed them."


    "Maybe, but this is a war we can no longer win, and so we share the same lands."


    "Share? Do you call making borders like an oath breaker sharing?"


    "I do now," he replied with a sharpness surprising her. "You should know better. You walk among them."


    "I walk with a taleweaver. That''s different." She wrinkled her nose as she passed one of the tents. Living beings surrounded by the skins of dead animals. The skinless always killed to get what they lacked themselves. That made them less than the animals they preyed on. Skinless parasites, a disease spreading its symptoms everywhere it showed up. Some of that infection had even got a hold of humans like herself. Didn''t she carry a bow to kill from a distance, and wear armor made from leather? A disease!


    "You say he''s a taleweaver," Kharg said. "I still say you''ve been deceived. As a Mindwalker you''re susceptible to the tricks of the oath breakers."


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    Gring hissed slowly. He was bordering on questioning her honor, but he was also clever enough to always imply she was merely ignorant, and so she had no real reason to challenge him.


    A sobbing sound behind her made her stop. Chaijrild. The child was crying. Had she been hurt? Gring bent down to get a better look. Chaijrild cringed but paid little real attention to Gring''s examinations. No damage. Gring was confused until she saw that the child was staring intently at the pyre. It made no sense at first, but then Gring remembered the skinless were often skinless inside as well. Some of them couldn''t stand the sight of their own dead. They were weaklings. Gring turned and resumed walking. Arthur had come up beside her, and she could see that he was ill at ease as well.


    They continued through the camp, a soft wind following them at all times. It was a comfortable day, but for the ever-present stench of unwashed halfmen. The wind brisk and the day clear above them. That, of course, didn''t stop the halfmen from behaving as if it was cold, but that, at least, wasn''t a fault they could remedy. They were skinless after all.


    Their captors led them on through the streets, if those could be called that, until they finally arrived at their destination. It was an open area, almost like one of the squares the halfmen were so fond of. The snow was trampled and yellow stalks of grass could be seen in spots.


    Only a few of the halfmen were present, and the reason soon became apparent. Kharg hadn''t been alone, and nor had she expected him to be. Warriors usually went in groups of five or six, and his men were standing, evenly spread out, at the edges of the empty space. Their dark leather armor glistened in the sun and all wore heavy swords strapped to their sides.


    This had to be where she would know the reason for her capture. It was about time. She walked to stand in the center, Arthur and Chaijrild following in her steps. They looked worried, and tired. Arthur was facing the hunger better than the child, but Gring knew they were both dangerously dehydrated. Thirst could be deceptive in winter.


    "I demand water for these two," she said to no one in particular. "The skinless can''t last long without drinking, and you should know better after keeping company with them."


    "You are not here to demand." Kharg''s voice.


    "We lay down our weapon at your behest. Honor, at least, demands that you treat them accordingly."


    He waved at one of his men who ran away.


    Arthur asked her something, but Gring decided it was not the right time to make him nor Chaijrild understand what was said. That whatever he said was unintelligible was a price she had to pay. An unfortunate one. Arthur had fought bravely at her side and laid down his weapon in her honor. He deserved to know what was going on, and her decision put a stain on her. She would have to repay him later.


    She faced Kharg again. There was something disturbing about him, something sinister. It was as if he was planning or even scheming, but such were the ways of oath breakers, not humans. The feeling made her uneasy. Gring wondered what a band of warriors were doing together with skinless riders when the usual contact would have been a skirmish between the two.


    A faint scent caught her interest. There would be water after all. An improvement. The warrior Kharg had ordered away did indeed return with a pair of buckets which he left at her feet. Gring hoisted one of them and offered it to Arthur. The other she greedily emptied herself. She was done long before Arthur had had his fill, and she watched him almost forcing Chaijrild to drink. Together the two of them barely managed to drink half a bucket, and Gring drained the rest.


    Arthur burped with a satisfied grin spreading over his face and wiped it with his sleeve. After that he examined Chaijrild and wiped her face dry as well despite her weak protests. Gring growled approvingly. He obviously knew the ways of winter as well as any halfman could be expected to do.


    She turned her interest to Kharg who''d been watching them silently while they drank. He didn''t seem especially happy with her forcing him to bring water to his honor bound prisoners. Another strangeness she didn''t like.


    "Now," Gring began, "could you tell me why we have been dragged outside to stand here as if this was a formal questioning?"


    Kharg grinned. "That is closer than you might have preferred. This is not a formal questioning. That will come later."


    "What reason is there for me to face such a questioning, and if this is not one, what is it?"


    Kharg growled, a dangerous, angry growl telling her he was preparing to attack. "Enough of that insolence!" he roared.


    Gring backed away. A threat never scared her, but his behavior did. Kharg reacted, not like a human should, but like a human who''d lost all control.


    "I have a right to know why I am standing here," she stubbornly demanded to the silence following his outrage.


    "You stand accused of being a renegade."


    "On what grounds?" she asked. "How dare you question my honor?"


    "I''m not the one questioning you honor. I''m your captor. Others will determine if you have shamed us or not."


    "You? You who have shamed us with oath breakers witnessing?"


    "Quiet! Take them away!"


    "Where are you taking us?"


    No one answered.

 Intermezzo

    "Can we make it in time?"


    "I don''t know," Ramdar answered ruefully. He really didn''t know, and Vildir, well Vildir handled horsemen on the battlefield. He didn''t plan campaigns involving thousands of battle mages, especially not a campaign that had already started to fall apart. It would have been impossible to gather battle mages from only one of the warring empires. Neither trusted the other enough to move that kind of destructive capacity anywhere without keeping the other in check. Now they were able to do just that, battalions of them, but that didn''t make mages from Khanati and Rhuin love each other any better. Nothing but a shared need to hurt the western raiders kept them from each other''s throats.


    Ramdar fervently wished for the presence of Olvar de Saiden. A war in Keen should be led by the warlord from Keen, not a foreigner. Ramdar rode on. He regretted laughing in agreement when he first heard the plan, but at that time they had all expected small flotillas; not an invasion fleet, and now the entire western coast was stripped off defenses. There was small consolation in the knowledge that the southern raider fleet had suffered a devastating defeat at the Narrow Sea, hammered between two full regiments of battle mages and the powerful stone throwers Keen had brought there. Small consolation indeed.


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    The latest news arriving told him the westerners raided villages at will along the western coast and that they had already set up a fortified camp on the southern tip of the Ming peninsula, just across Hasselden. Now the only mobile defense left was a small unit of outworlders fooled into a wild goose hunt for Arthur Wallman along a burning coast he had never visited, and that unit didn''t have any reason to fight a war that didn''t belong to them.


    And then there was politics, always politics. They weren''t allowed to jump to or from any position they held in Keen because the power surge could be noticed in Verd.


    Ramdar laughed bitterly at the idiocy. They had to lumber around cross country, awakening the curiosity of local farmers as they passed by, just to avoid aggravating the Inquisition, and if they arrived in time to protect anything at the coast they were supposed to let loose a magical firestorm that would be noticed half a continent away.


    Gods, what a wasteful stupidity!

 Chapter eleven, Alllies, part one

    And now we bring bad news to Harbend again. Gods! They all want Lord Garak, Master Garak or Harbend de Garak representing our shared interests with Keen. Is there no one to see how tired he is?


    Sighing Nakora shrugged and returned inside the canvased group of wagons serving as their barracks. Emptier than unusual. She had ordered night patrols doubled since the attack. Come morning she''d receive complaints from tired soldiers.


    I believe you have no such worries, Captain Laiden. What have you seen together? I see your men look at you as an older brother or father. Paid mercenaries. I wonder.


    Suspicions or not. Captain Laiden still had no way of understanding the ways of Khi. Had no personal interest invested either, she admitted sourly. Did she really care so much?


    Gods! Someone has to lessen the blow.


    She wrapped her cloak around herself and went back into the dark coldness outside.


    ***


    "What do you mean they''re gone?"


    "There are clear signs of an attack, M''lord, but we can''t find any bodies. My guess is they''ve been taken."


    Harbend gave Trindai a helpless look. "So what do we do now?"


    "I can send out scouts tomorrow, M''lord."


    "Do you believe they can catch up?"


    "Maybe, maybe not. But we should have a better chance knowing if anyone''s planning another attack."


    Harbend nodded. Sound thinking. "Do so," he said at last.


    Trindai rose and left.


    Harbend waited until Trindai was out of sight before leaning forward, face in hands. Now what? Arthur and Chaijrild both gone. Lianin would be livid when he told her. As for Arthur. He didn''t even want to think about the repercussions when they finally returned to Verd. If worst came to worst they''d probably encounter a band of Khraga blaming him for losing Gring as well.


    "So, what do we do now?" he asked himself and was surprised to get an answer.


    "We go after them or we continue, or maybe even both."


    "Who?"


    A figure slowly became a visible contour against the night sky. Nakora! Gods! For a moment he thought he''d seen a ghost.


    "I hope I did not scare you. I never intended to."


    "No, not at all," he lied. "Have a seat." He pointed at the low chair Trindai had occupied just a little while earlier.


    Nakora gracefully accepted his offer.


    "Are you not cold?" he asked to break a silence starting to become awkward.


    "Cold? You must be joking, Lord Garak," she laughed. "You have made a fine fire here, and with the tarpaulin all around us there is no wind."


    Harbend silently agreed. She still wore her leather coat and he sat here in his shirtsleeves. "So, what to do?" he asked, more to change subject than to listen to her repeat what she had already said earlier.


    "Send a search party. You have to. The rest continue to Braka."


    "Do I have to?"


    She looked at him quizzically and nodded. "Yes, I believe so, but can you?"


    He returned her look and sighed. "I do not know. I honestly do not know."


    "Find a way, for your own sake. At least this you can handle the way you prefer. They shall not demand your sacrificing your conscience to prove yourself being one of us again. Not with a taleweaver involved at least."


    He stared out into the darkness. In his mind he followed the long line of circles of wagons stretching out behind them. Ten wagons to each circle, thirty circles, and one out of five of the men and women who depended on him would want him to make the human decision. Only one out of five who wouldn''t ask him to abandon his friend even if none of the others would ever dare to voice that to his face. Gods! He was guilty of losing a taleweaver to who knew what kind of destiny.


    "Are you sure?" he asked, and a coldness having nothing to do with winter crawled down his back as he waited for her answer.


    "I am certain. Not this close to the executions. Who knows, it might be a matter of a couple of days that is needed this time as well."


    "I do not know," he whispered hoarsely. "I really do not know."


    "You must decide. The law requires it. Good night, Lord Garak. I leave you now." The softness in her voice belied the harsh words, and Harbend knew he had an important ally.


    ***


    Trindai de Laiden was eavesdropping. He lacked the moral restrictions against getting information in such an underhanded way, a lack he was well aware of. None of his superiors would care about how he got his intelligence, but all of them would most certainly come down on him if he failed to find out what he should have known.


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    At the moment he was trying to handle a problem, one that had currently not reached anything like a satisfying conclusion. Arthur Wallman had to be found and rescued. That, at least, was what Madame de Felder would want, but then she didn''t have all the facts. She''d charged him with keeping the outworlder celebrity safe while at the same time making certain the golden opportunity to make a show of increasing Keen''s trade didn''t fail. She had no possible way of knowing that the creepy outworlder had turned out a taleweaver. The Roadhouse was too far away from Keen for that, but, he thought sourly to himself, he didn''t have the benefit of ignorance.


    Now Arthur Wallman had to be found and rescued before news about his capture reached kings, councils and other untranslatable bodies of governments deciding to set up rescue missions of their own. Those could, if poorly handled, grow into a conflict that would make the perpetual war between Rhuin and Khanati pale in comparison.


    "And I''m the unlucky bastard with this shit in my lap," he muttered silently under his breath. Well, shit or not, it wouldn''t do to be discovered here.


    Trindai edged himself between the wheels under the wagon where he was hiding. He didn''t like what he was hearing. Some traders were apparently not as interested in heroic rescue missions as in protecting their own coffers, and at the moment two of them were voicing their concerns to a group of their colleagues.


    You idiots! Why can''t you keep your greedy thoughts to yourselves? I don''t need a mutiny on my hands now.


    Trindai crept back and silently made his way to the horse he''d left far away enough from the circle of wagons not to be seen from it.


    A short ride, a few barked commands and a couple of questions later he sat down in the wagon where the Vimarin brew mistress had set up her mobile tavern. The other guests scrambled to their feet and left the wagon as fast as their feet could carry them when he made it clear he wasn''t above using his saber on anyone overstaying their welcome. All but one, that was. Trindai had to physically prevent Harbend from joining the exodus.


    "We have a problem, M''lord," he said after he''d forcefully turned a startled Harbend to face him.


    "We, or you?" Harbend asked regaining some of his composure.


    Trindai grinned. He had to give the master trader the credit of being more coldblooded than the average civilian. "We have, or more precisely, you and I have."


    "How so?"


    "There are traders who don''t want to stay put while we send out patrols to find Arthur Wallman."


    "Gods! Not you as well. Yes, yes, yes, I want to find my friend and get him back here. I just do not want to order more executions in order to do so."


    "I want to make one thing absolutely clear," he growled. "I don''t care a bastards fate about your friend, but darkness, it''s imperative that we bring the taleweaver to safety."


    "I know," Harbend murmured, "but how?"


    "That, M''lord, is your decision, but to make that decision easier you should know that I''ll leave this caravan with all my men if something doesn''t happen very soon."


    Harbend looked as if he was going to explode, but then a smile crept up his face. "That," he began, smiling even wider, "is an argument I believe my fellow traders will have no problems understanding."


    "Good. Then I have things to do." Trindai made as if to leave.


    "Why the hurry?"


    Trindai sat down at the unexpected question. There had been an edge of command to it he didn''t like.


    "Captain, if you are indeed a captain, what is your role here?"


    Something cold ran down Trindai''s spine. Darkness, have I blown my cover?


    "You''re not a mercenary escort captain, and your troops are not a bunch of men you happen to command for this trip, long as it may be," Harbend continued relentlessly. "You act with the coordination of professionals. Gods! You somehow made me hire an entire unit rather than random men at arms."


    "I don''t understand, Lord Garak." Darkness, Mairild will have my skin for this! "What do you mean?" I failed to keep a secret even to a civilian.


    "I saw your reluctance at the executions. Tired of killing civilians are you?"


    "Huh?" Now Trindai was honestly surprised. Where was this going?


    "Too many years spent in the glorious Inquisition doing that dirty work? Captain, are you escorting us, or are you running from your superiors?"


    Oh, oh he believes... Lucky day of mine. "You''re too perceptive for my taste, Lord Garak. Does it make any difference what we were before you hired us?" Trindai barely managed to keep from sighing with relief.

 Chapter eleven, Alllies, part two

    Harbend made it clear he would join the rescue mission, a decision that met with several protests early on, but he insisted and with the help of Nakora he eventually managed to convince the other members of the caravan he wasn''t needed to personally oversee the slow trek towards Braka. That honor fell to the oldest of the traders coming from Ri Khi.


    Harbend noted, with some satisfaction, that Captain Laiden was always absent from the meetings, but for those not in the know it was maybe not so strange.


    Lastly Harbend chose the two mages from Khanati, who had followed Arthur around earlier, to accompany him. After all they had played the role of heroes during the blizzard in the mountain pass, and the one named Escha was the only one with the gift to jump.


    They left early in the morning, winter chill biting their faces and even the slightest puff of wind an icy razor of cold. Harbend couldn''t imagine a place colder, but he had been told that the farther east and north you traveled, the colder winter became.


    They walked. The Transport Khar, Escha, didn''t want to jump with horses, and with him available, horses wouldn''t make much of a difference anyway. Harbend glanced at his companions. Different now, both of them. Less and less of the arrogance and more of the hard professionalism required of anyone rising in a society where war was a part of daily life. He corrected himself. They must have changed during the journey, but he''d been too preoccupied with his own business to pay them proper attention.


    Trai had saved lives on more than one occasion without ever claiming any glory for it, and Harbend had been too ungrateful to recognize the valor of a man he considered to be nothing more than a fop. Gods! He needed to be more observant, especially now when he was placing his life in the hands of men he previously discarded as little more than useless.


    "There is something you should know," he said silently, as if his unease wouldn''t allow him to admit failure.


    "Your thoughts, Lord Garak?" Trai asked.


    There was no turning back now. "I have been less than the host you deserve."


    "How so?"


    "You saved us in the mountains. Twice probably, and you were there when we needed you during the attack. It shames me that you have not received any thanks. I want you to know I appreciate all you have done even when unasked."


    "There is no need to ask, Lord Garak," Trai said with a smile. "I know we are but strangers here, and I know you have no reason to make enemies of your own people on our behalf."


    "I want you to know anyway."


    "Now I''m told, and I''m grateful, Lord Garak."


    Strange, he talks like a normal being for once. Embarrassed or just angry I waited this long with common decency?


    They continued walking in silence. Muted rumbling of hooves broke that silence. A single rider was catching up. A messenger? No, it was Nakora, but she wouldn''t have ridden out herself only to bring a message. Then what?


    "Master Garak, do you think you can escape me so easily?" Her face was red from the hard ride.


    "I fail to understand what you mean," Harbend responded. Unfortunately he suspected why she was here, despite his words to the contrary.


    "It means I am joining you. You are not doing this without any kind of military experience."


    Harbend groaned. So he had guessed right. He played with the thought of starting a discussion or even giving her an order to return, but at this distance he saw her flushed cheeks probably were not only the result of straining herself during the ride. He allowed his groan to turn into a sigh.


    "I guess we could use your expertise."


    "Do not guess, Lord Garak. Just do!"


    Harbend spread his arms and stared at Trai. A bemused smile was the only response Harbend received.


    "Then we are four. I assume that shall not be a problem to you, Khar Escha?"


    "No horse."


    Harbend looked questioningly at Nakora. She was already emptying her saddlebags.


    "No horse," Harbend agreed.


    Nakora returned with her weapons, a quiver, some bags with food and a blanket in which she wrapped her water skins.


    "I am ready. Are you?"


    Harbend smiled and nodded. "Khar Escha?"


    "Come closer, both of you. I''ll jump us to where we can get a view of where they are."


    "Why not directly to them?" Nakora asked.


    "Escha, wonderful and mighty as he is, still needs to know where to jump," Trai answered affectionately.


    They jumped.


    Gods! The power! Trai may have been prone to flowery language and exaggerations, but all boasts concerning Khar Escha were understated if anything. Harbend blinked. Where? Ri Nachi, the capital of Ri Khi?


    "Why?" Nakora asked before looking around her in wonder.


    "Because such are the laws for jumping," Trai answered as if he hadn''t noticed that they were several eightdays worth of travel from where they had started. "In order to jump safely a Khar needs to know the destination, and only the mightiest of Khars can jump to a destination seen only in the mind."


    "I fail to understand," Nakora admitted. "And why are we here?"


    Harbend smiled. "A guess?"


    "Of course, Lord Garak."


    Harbend faced Trai. "You want to find us a Mindwalker."


    "Lord Garak, you''re a dangerous man. Do you have talents you haven''t told us about?"


    "No, at least not the kind you think I have. There was a Mindwalker where I grew up. She showed me many places in Khi before I was old enough to go there myself."


    Trai smiled in response.


    "Master, shall we find one to help us?" Escha asked.


    "Of course, my love. Captain Weinak, would you care to lead the way?"


    Nakora bowed and started walking.


    They were at the outskirts of the capital, almost where a jump tower had once been erected, but that was a hundred years ago, before it was torn down during the last major conflict to hit Ri Khi. Harbend guessed only tradition made the Transport Khars choose the site these days, but then tradition was always a strong power in itself.


    He gave the walls an appraising look. The second time he was here, and years spent in Verd made them less impressive than he remembered. He suspected the town itself would disappoint him, home to a mere twenty thousand or so. Still it lacked any competition in size for eightdays of travel around it, and apart from Verd few towns in Keen housed more.


    Street peddlers offered them food, cloth and other items. Harbend wondered if selling was the main reason for the gawking and shouting -- the Khars from Khanati, in their unfamiliar garbs, attracted their fair share of attention.


    Children played in the snow and an old crone passed by close enough that he could see her shocked expression when she stared at the two Khars.


    Some new houses had been erected since his previous visit here, and as was the way with wooden constructions, a few demolished as well. The town was alive in a way Verd wasn''t. Verd didn''t have an outer town. Apart from a few official buildings nothing was allowed to be built outside the city walls, and somehow Verd was always the same. Here a long stretch of the southeastern road from the town had become a town of its own with narrow streets feeding blocks of houses further away from the road that had become the main street.


    They walked along the muddy street until finally coming to the bridge leading to one of the gates. The city on the rivers. Not really accurate, but descriptive. The river flowing through the town had been diverted, split into two arms joining again south of Ri Nachi with canals crisscrossing the entire town.


    Gates flung open, only guarded by a couple of men who lazily eyed those passing by, and Harbend soon walked upon the paved streets of Ri Nachi. There was a certain glory to the town, a peculiar mixture of efficient Keen and aesthetic Khi. The streets regular, but the houses allowed a personality never seen in Verd apart from a few grandiose monuments built to put visitors in stunned awe.


    Even a few half houses built in the way typical to Khi. They rose like stairs, or a terrace so that each story would have a small garden on the roof of the story below. A reminder for aging soldiers who maybe never gave up hope of coming home one day.


    Harbend wondered how many of them had lived out their days here; maybe even with new families, and still never managing to think of this as home, dying in the belief that they were in a foreign land. He shook the thought away. It made him depressed, and it was just a little bit too close to his own feelings.


    "Captain Weinak, do you know where we are going?" Harbend asked, mostly to change his line of thoughts.


    She smiled back. "Should our mighty mages not know that?" she answered nodding at Trai.


    Harbend frowned at her.


    "Sorry, Lord Garak. I can find the way here easier than any of you," Nakora said.


    "Thank you, Captain."


    "The magehealers should know where to find a Mindwalker."


    With those words she took the lead and guided them over a bridge separating two districts, through the next one and over yet another bridge. They had entered the district of mages.


    "Silent, is it not?" Nakora asked as if she''d heard his thoughts.


    "And large," he agreed. "It serves all of Ri Khi?"


    "Yes, and Ri Kordari as well. Sometimes we have people from as far away as Erkateren here."


    "And some of the magehealers journey to the more distant parts of the land I guess."


    She laughed quietly. "Maybe we are not that far removed from Khi then if you are so familiar with procedures here."


    "Maybe not," Harbend affirmed.


    "Well, this should be as good as any other place," Nakora said cheerily. "Should I go in and ask for directions?"


    "Please do," Harbend answered, grateful for something to interrupt his thoughts. The town brought strange and troublesome musings to his mind.


    She ran up a short flight of stairs and vanished into a doorway. The three remaining men waited, and rather than face more of the uncomfortable silence Harbend explained what had happened to the Khars. Speaking Veric was cumbersome as always, but he had some practice from his journeys. All educated men in Khi got at least some schooling in Veric as Khi traded with Khanati as well as Rhuin.


    Of course, there were some people in Khanati who resented the use of Veric as Veraike had been little more than a Rhic province for several eightyears, but it was an ancient culture, far older than either of the warring empires and open complaints were few and far between. He knew better than speaking De Vhatic. That offended anyone living around the Sea of the Mother, but then the people from Keen aggravated almost anyone with their peculiar hatred of the gift.


    They waited some more until Nakora returned. She was smiling as she ran down the stairs.


    "Are you ready?" she asked as if they hadn''t been waiting for her all along.


    "Yes, is it long?" Harbend replied.


    "No, just a few houses." She pointed at a building further down the street.


    "I did not know magehealers and mindwalkers shared quarters."


    "Neither did I, but apparently at least two of them do. We are to visit Irika Hankar, the magehealer whose house it is and her companion, Nerika Havik."


    She took the lead. They made their way close enough to the river turned moat that Harbend could see it was flowing slowly enough to have started freezing over. Thin sheets of ice covered the surface, still brittle enough to give way should anyone try to walk across. There was still some defensive magic in work here then. It was cold enough for the moat to freeze solid. Old magic, no longer of any real use.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    This part of the world hadn''t seen full scale wars for hundreds of years, and a hundred had passed since the last major unrest. That one had been bad enough though, Harbend recalled from lessons. A fanatical, religious movement, set on bringing the end of the world. Originating in Erkateren it spread to Ri Khi, Ri Kordari and Vimarin. It had taken Keen''s intervention and over thirty years of bitter fighting to finally crush it, and the process had given birth to the Free Inquisition, as unwanted a boon as any could be.


    Preoccupied with his musings Harbend almost walked into the back of Nakora when she suddenly halted in front of him.


    "Here we are," she said with a cheerfulness that seemed to cling to her this day. Maybe she was just happy to be back home again, even if only for a short while.


    Harbend tilted his head to get a better view of the house. Almost circular. He frowned at its peculiar design. First floor made of bricks or stone and the second wooden, as if the builders had run out of money halfway through its construction. The roof barely jutted out from the walls, and splotches clearly showed that whenever it rained water ran down them rather than falling to the street at his feet.


    "Are you sure?" Harbend asked, and realized his voice must have shown the disdain he felt. "I apologize, of course it has to be here," he added in a feeble attempt to remove some of the sting.


    He still received a hurt look, but Nakora didn''t retort. She just climbed the stairs and knocked on the door.


    Trai and Escha followed her up the stairs, and both glanced at him as they passed. Even though they couldn''t have understood what he said, his tone and her silent reply surely told them something was amiss. Gods! He didn''t need to invent new ways to alienate those around him. Harbend slapped himself mentally, closed his eyes, exhaled and took the first step up the stairs. Before his third step the door ahead of him opened, and a man in his early twenties beckoned them to enter.


    The entrance opened into a wide hallway, two staircases climbing to the second story and a short corridor between them leading into whatever rooms were hidden on the first. He followed Escha into the corridor. Harbend came into a room, round as the building itself. Behind a desk, close to a window behind it, a figure sat framed by the daylight streaming in through the glass.


    Deliberate or not, the light shining into the otherwise dark room created a halo surrounding the shape in the chair.


    "Welcome, I have waited for you." The voice belonging to the shining figure was female, distinctively so. Harbend could feel the tingling sensation at his temples signaling that he was in the presence of a Mindwalker activating her gifts. As she walked closer to them she illuminated the room with a soft light streaming from her body.


    Both Khars prostrated themselves on the floor. Harbend met her gaze and stared into a pair of golden eyes. Lifetimes of experience lived there. At that moment he knew, and bowed low.


    That voice! Words more ancient than any human history, and he was allowed to bask in the glory of hearing them, no, to be one whom they were addressed to. He wanted nothing more than to please the wonderful being who had so graced him.


    "Enough of that!"


    Harbend looked around, ready to slay the rude offender.


    "I said enough!" This time the harsh order thundered from all over the room. Escha, no a multitude of him swirled around the room. Steady, pulsing, almost rhythmical waves of power crashed around them. "Glorious as you may be, there is little need of playing such tricks on mere human minds. Not all of us are ready to face your beauty in mind and presence. I say hold!" all the Eschas roared simultaneously.


    Once again an abrupt surge of power and suddenly blinding daylight surrounded them.


    Impossible! I am flying. Outdoors, close to the river and hovering the height of a full grown man over the ground, but he could still feel the floor beneath him. At least it felt like the floor, but he could see right through it, and that was a dizzying experience. More of Escha''s display of power. Still on his knees Harbend clung to the solid nothingness under him afraid he might fall off the unseen platform if he moved. From the gasps around him he knew he wasn''t the only one feeling uneasy.


    "Could we please return indoors?" the golden female who had addressed them earlier asked.


    "Of course, my lady. If you refrain from your games," Escha''s answered.


    "You are a very rude man."


    "I am a very rude Khar."


    "Please, love, leave her be." Trai, from somewhere behind Harbend.


    "As you wish, Master."


    As suddenly as they had found themselves outdoors they were inside the house again. Harbend let out a deep breath of relief. With a floor he could see under him again he dared standing up. The room was not as dark as he''d believed when he first entered it. The window was one of many, but he only had eyes for the woman rising from behind the desk. Long, silvery hair cascading around a face that still showed signs of bewilderment. A silken gown shifting in blue and green. She was beautiful, and tall, almost as tall as Vildir.


    "Who are you, lady?" Harbend asked when he had gathered his thoughts.


    "I am Neritan Hwain, or at least that is my name."


    "Where is Magehealer Hankar?" Nakora asked.


    "On an errand. Midwifery."


    "Mindwalker Havik, then?"


    "Ah, that''s a bit different. She''s here, in a sense."


    Harbend shook his head. "Where, my lady?"


    "Present and nowhere."


    "Please, my lady, I have little time for riddles. A friend of mine is in danger, if not dead already."


    "Nerika Havik is a convenience. It''s a name I use to avoid prying ears. Call her my second life if you wish."


    Harbend''s hope sank. "That is bad. We came in search of a Mindwalker."


    "I am one."


    "But you live with a Magehealer!"


    "I am one as well."


    "I did not know you mages attempted to master two fields of the gift."


    Neritan flashed him a boyish grin. "It used to be quite common."


    How old is she? Ancient one moment and a boy-girl the next. Body and face spoke about a woman somewhere in her early twenties, but with those golden eyes she could be hundreds of years old.


    "I am older that that." Her eyes became icy and hard as she stared at Escha. "I don''t want to hear any comment about intruding. He could as well have shouted his question."


    Harbend blushed. Well, she was a Mindwalker. That was for certain. He studied the silent duel between two mages, a fight where the gift wasn''t used at all, but where two minds obviously used to be in mastery of those present measured each other. Then simultaneously they smiled.


    "You are strong." Both voices at once.


    "And skilled," Neritan added.


    "And experienced," Escha acknowledged.


    An expression of fierce pride grew in Trai''s face, but Harbend had expected nothing else. The Fire Khar loved his slave. A strange companionship, but they were all strange in Khanati.


    Nakora giggled nervously as the tension released. Harbend sympathized with her. No sane man, nor woman for that matter, wanted to be near mages when they were angry enough to test their powers against each other.


    "You stated you had been in wait for us," Harbend said to turn attention to himself.


    "I did so."


    "Why?" There was no reason to ask how she could have known they were coming.


    "A friend of mine asked me to, as a precaution. I''ve been ready for a long time. The moment, however, didn''t present itself until today."


    Harbend disliked the sound of that. The caravan was less his own enterprise than something more important if people powerful or rich enough to trade favors with a golden born mage got themselves involved.


    "No matter the reason," he started, "I am grateful you are here. We need to find friends lost to us."


    "I''ve sensed as much."


    "Then, could you show Khar Escha where they are?"


    "Maybe, but first you must eat, and then you must rest."


    "But we need to be there in time, my lady," Harbend pleaded.


    "Now, my young man, acting rashly has its own risks. I haven''t done that in a very long time." Neritan smiled, but he could see a bitter glint in her eyes. "The last time I acted without precaution something very bad happened. We wouldn''t want that to happen again."


    Harbend didn''t dare ask her the reason for her caution. He had a sinking feeling that whatever bad had happened must have been outright awful, and if she deemed his questions too intrusive she might punish him by giving him the full answer.


    "As you wish, my lady," he answered meekly.


    "There is another reason for the delay as well. I need to prepare myself for the travel."


    "There is no need for you to come with us. I am grateful and honored, no offense meant, but we would not dream of demanding your presence on a dangerous mission like this, and..."


    He knew he was babbling when Neritan laughed. It was a silvery laugh removing all tension and doubt. It was the happy sound of a child seeing the first flowers of spring, and Harbend could only stare dumbfounded at her.


    "Young man. You are most refreshing, and I appreciate that. I am going to accompany you. That''s something I''ve promised my friend, not you, so you need not worry you shall end up too much in my debt. Besides, I''ll be hard pressed to help the Transport Khar otherwise." Harbend blushed and wanted to protest. "No, no, silence my hasty friend. No more words that walk astray and wander aimlessly before you can take them back. I beg you."


    She clapped her hands, and the doorman who''d been silent all the time left the room.


    "He''ll make sure you get food and drink. There are beds on the second floor you can use after your meal. Please, get some strength. I''ll need to draw a lot on it later."


    There was nothing left for them to do but oblige.


    The food was excellent, as was the weak wine that went with it, and even though it was still morning they soon fell asleep on the beds assigned to them, and it wasn''t without a certain amount of regret they were awakened later that afternoon.


    The doorman led them to the room where they had first met Neritan, and she walked away with Escha. Harbend could see them talking with each other for a long time before returning to the center of the room.


    "Please, stand close to us," Neritan said. She locked eyes with Escha. "I can''t promise that they are still there, but I can show you where they have stayed long enough to make an imprint clear enough for me to see."


    "That, my lady, is all I ask. Whatever location you can clearly show me I can bring us to," Escha said.


    "You''re not a little bold."


    "There hasn''t been a Khar like me for a hundred years, and I don''t expect another one for the coming one hundred, at least." There was little of boasting in his voice. The words were those of a braggart, but Harbend heard that Escha was only stating a well known fact.


    Neritan smiled. "Then, if you are ready?"


    "I am."


    Harbend saw them lock eyes again, and soon there was a sense of elsewhere in the room, as if they were at two places at the same time. Then suddenly he felt power flow through his body as Escha released his gift. There was a short sensation of nothingness and then they were on the Sea of Grass again.

 Intermezzo

    They would die for this. Damn the dirty pirates!


    This time he would be in time to exact revenge. This time he wouldn''t be too late. Not like twenty years earlier when he watched his dying parents vanish into the darkness surrounding the mining station he would never again call home. That was the real reason for him joining the military. Somewhere deep inside he knew he''d abandoned the professionalism he used to share with his old lieutenant, but what he had seen, what they had all seen...


    "Cease fire!" Heinrich Goldberger called and searched the waters with a satisfied smile.


    Broken pieces of wood floated on the waves as far as he could see, some of them still burning. Now that was one hell of a good ambush. The sailors apparently never expected anyone from land to be able to reach them with weapons. Well, they were proved wrong. The fifth time now. It was almost like target practice, but he didn''t mind. He drew in a deep breath and allowed the smell of seawater to fill his lungs before he turned to his men.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Move it! We''ve got work to do further south."


    "Major, we shouldn''t... well you know... get any more involved." The young subaltern looked uncomfortable. He even managed to cringe in his exoskeleton body walker.


    Ah, damn. Their own little self appointed lawyer again.


    "You saw what those bastards did to that village, didn''t you?"


    "Yes, but we have orders."


    "Ah! That''s right. Orders, yes! I''ll check with HQ if I''ve misinterpreted my orders." Heinrich dramatically patted the side of his helmet where a com unit had once been. "Ooh, look, no ears! Sorry, can''t verify. Guess we have to stick with my way of reading our orders then. Now move out you lazy little pigs! I want more burning ships by nightfall."

 Chapter twelve, Khraga, part one

    Arthur groaned tiredly as they were led away. He didn''t need to understand the words to grasp their meaning. Whatever was going to happen to them wasn''t going to happen here, and he desperately wanted more than a few hours of rest before being tied to a horse again. The cold bit harder now.


    Lack of food, he thought. Less energy available for warming my body. Less left for thinking clearly as well.


    Arthur glanced at Chaijrild at his side. She had to feel the same way; miserable, cold, hungry and afraid. At least he had his curiosity to divert his thoughts, and he was curious. More so than afraid, or maybe he was just too tired to be afraid. Whatever the reason was for their capture he didn''t seem to be the one they wanted. Gring was at the center of their interest. Something she had done, or her family had done. If Khraga had families the way humans did.


    Arthur understood he''d grown dependent on her without getting to know her very well. A fallibility of his. Too many question asked about her place in his world, and far too few about his in her.


    A very good way to never learn what really matters to another being, he muttered sourly in his own mind. I''m too damn used to the world circling around me.


    They walked along the streets, back to the prison pen, but as he suspected horses were already waiting for them. There would be no rest. The distant screech of a bird reached him, if it was a bird. Well, it had wings, something he wished he had as well. Soaring high into the air, flying all the way back to the caravan. Now that would be a surprise for Harbend to chew on. Arthur smiled grimly. Wishful thinking. He didn''t even know in which direction the caravan lay, and a look at Gring and Chaijrild made him feel a bit guilty. He wouldn''t abandon them. Not now, even though he doubted his ability to be of any real help in the situation they were in. Arthur shrugged away his misgivings. Giving up on their options wouldn''t help neither.


    He arrived at the horse chosen for him. Sedate, just like the mare he''d ridden a few days earlier. It was smaller though, but so were all the horses their captors rode. A rugged rope was laid around his arms and he was soon tied. He sighed and resigned himself for what was ahead.


    The maddening ride started again. At first the cold wind shocked him, but long before the camp disappeared from view Arthur was too numb to feel it any longer. His world turned into a bouncing horseback and an infinite whiteness all around him, and there was no time and no destination, only the white now that stretched out forever.


    A day and a night passed with the only difference being that the white hell became black after the sun set. They must have changed horses, but Arthur couldn''t remember when, or even how many times. It was morning again when he was untied, so weak that when they allowed him to dismount he fell to the ground. He was too tired to notice what happened to Gring or Chaijrild, too tired to recognize the Khraga standing in front of him.


    Arthur could feel himself being lifted to the back of another Khraga, and then, by some wonder he couldn''t understand, he was indoors. He knew that, because the wind was gone, as were the bleak rays of the morning sun. He was too weak to care about anything other than a single sensation. It was, he realized after an eternity, warm here.


    He barely noticed being stripped; cloak, coat and boots still stiff with cold. There were voices around him. Hard voices speaking in a language he didn''t understand, but Arthur didn''t allow that to disturb him as his body grabbed for the blissful warmth in the air.


    He was carried away, but he never knew where. The cradling motions of being carried combined with being warm again for the first time in ages relaxed him, and he fell asleep.


    ***


    It was still dark when he woke. For a moment Arthur wondered if he''d slept an entire day, but then he could see white spots on a wall where window slits let daylight in. He remembered he was indoors, more than remembered. The stinging cold that had become an unpleasant companion was no longer present, nor was the cutting wind. Arthur rose on aching legs and started to examine his surroundings while dressing in his damp clothes.


    "Awake at last," Gring commented from somewhere.


    He searched and found her sitting with her back to a wall, black fur less tidy than he remembered from their days with the caravan. It was still fur, probably warmer than his clothes.


    Or Chaijrild''s, the little demon of responsibility in his head added accusingly. How do you think she feels?


    "The child is still sleeping. She''ll be fine," Gring continued as if reading his thoughts.


    Arthur relaxed a little, but guilt still clung to him. They were together then, but where? "How?"


    "They jumped us here."


    Arthur blinked away the last of his sleepiness. "Who did what?"


    "Human mages. Of the same kind as mage Escha. We met them late yesterday. The halfmen riders didn''t follow of course."


    "Why are we here?" Arthur asked, too dizzy to understand what mages from Khanati were doing here, wherever here was. Aw, hell, human mages mean monkey mages.


    "I stand accused of betraying my own," Gring answered never showing if she''d guessed his last thought.


    Arthur stared at her. "In what way?"


    "I don''t know. Kharg accused me before we were led away. There is a questioning ahead. I''ll know then."


    "But that''s ridiculous!"


    "To know?"


    "No, to go to these lengths for capturing one person, unless you''re more important to them than you''ve told me."


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Gring studied him. A dangerous glint in her eyes told him she was getting angry. "You dare call me honor less like an oath breaker?"


    "What''s honor got to do with anything? They attacked the caravan with God knows how many men. Either they''re insane or you''re indeed that valuable to them."


    She stared at him. "I don''t know why they''d want to capture me. The attack on the caravan was probably payment to the halfmen riders. They are still nomadic and live off their own relatives who have settled down. Little more than brigands."


    Arthur sat down in the straw covering part of the floor. He''d never fully understand the ways of the people living here.


    "No, I don''t accuse you of lying to me, but I still wonder why they''d use so much resources to capture you. It makes me suspicious and I hope you can understand that," he added in way of consolation.


    "Your suspicion is an attempt to stain my honor."


    "That was never my intention." Arthur sighed with dejection. Gring had her priorities wrong. He steeled himself for a verbal trashing. "You don''t understand. Honor can''t be important enough to rule out everything else."


    "Now it''s you who don''t understand. What is life without honor?"


    "Honor can''t be everything. Yes, it''s important, but so is decency and caring. Without them, how could we help those in need, and why should we? I''ve seen honor become arrogance and self-importance too many times to trust it fully. It''s a notion far too easy to abuse."


    Gring grunted but at least she didn''t argue. Arthur turned away sullenly. He was still cold, and the damp air didn''t help.


    He wondered when they''d be fed. At least they''d been given water, but quenching his thirst only reminded him how hungry he was. How long since their last meal? A week? No it must be less than that, but he was feeling dull enough to know it had been too long. The headache tormenting him at first was gone as well. Another bad sign. Pain was a sensation forcing him to think. How long would it be before he was too weak to care? Surely they didn''t mean to starve them to death. That made no sense, unless of course the real reason was to weaken Gring so whatever plight they were to endure would be more than she could handle. Incoherent thoughts wandered through his mind until he heard Chaijrild groan. She must have been disturbed by the angry conversation earlier. She looked worn.


    Arthur waited until she was fully awake, and dressed, before trying to catch her attention. "How are you?"


    "Where are we?" Her voice was weak from fatigue.


    She looked dirtier than he remembered, but then he probably wasn''t looking his best either. A mirror would be good to have. He thought of it again and suddenly the idea didn''t seem as alluring any longer. Better not to know what he looked like when he wanted to at least pretend to be strong.


    "We are with my people," Gring answered instead of him. "We were jumped here."


    "Where is here?" Chaijrild''s voice was still weak, but this time a hint of fear was mixed into it as well.


    "Further east from where we were. Not much. We could have made the distance in three or four eightdays, including the boat trip of course," Gring answered flatly.


    "Boat trip?" Arthur asked, paying no heed to his protesting stomach.


    "Yes, the sea cuts in all the way to Braka."


    "You mean like the Narrow Sea?" Chaijrild asked.


    Gring grinned and licked her tusks. "Yes, I suppose."


    The two women continued to discuss geography Arthur already was vaguely familiar with from satellite maps. Of course those maps didn''t come with any of the names or borders the people here took for granted. At the moment he didn''t care. The smalltalk was a distraction from their situation. After a while the conversation turned to differences in names, and then it became too abstract for him with uncertain guesswork from both Gring and Chaijrild as they tried to explain the reasons for different names.


    Arthur sighed, silently so Chaijrild wouldn''t hear. They were caught by people more distant to them than a mere measure of relative distance would ever explain, and Chaijrild was more a frightened child than a woman. It wasn''t enough that Gring always seemed solid like a mountain. Chaijrild would expect nothing else from someone looking like one. Hell, he wouldn''t expect anything else. Privately he wondered though. There had to be weaknesses Gring didn''t show. She was human after all, even if her concept of human differed very much from Chaijrild''s. Did it differ less from his own? He hoped so.


    Arthur leaned back in the dirty straw. Maybe he could shoot their way out of here. He fumbled after his holster. Empty. Of course. They wouldn''t have been allowed to keep their weapons. If they only had some food! He needed something to eat to think more clearly. Hell, they all did. Nothing much he could do about their situation now. They were locked in and would probably be called for whenever their captors wanted. If Gring didn''t seem more worried than she was there was no reason for him to add to their misgivings. At least he could pretend to be calm. Again random thoughts came and went on their own volition, and tiredness called on Arthur.


    At least I''m not afraid of the night any longer. Guess living the nightmare sets your priorities right.


    He curled up in a ball to keep warm. If he could do nothing else then at least he could try to make himself as comfortable as their surroundings allowed. He listened absently to the chatter between Chaijrild and Gring. It was nothing important, but it kept them occupied, and he was glad for Chaijrild''s sake. She needed the diversion. At least he wasn''t afraid of sleeping any longer. He drifted into an uneasy sleep but was never truly sleeping, and from time to time he could hear the voices of the two women. They had changed topics which made it clear to him he had dozed off after all, and the last time he looked at the window slits before he fell asleep for real they offered nothing but the night.

 Chapter twelve, Khraga, part two

    Arthur stared at the over sized furniture around him. It was a place for Khraga not humans. The round hall was huge as well, almost like an ancient stone church. This was, however, not a religious building. It looked more like a fortification of some kind. A citadel perhaps. Symbolic decorations lined the walls, but Arthur saw no pictures. It reminded him somewhat of an orthodoxly decorated Islamic building, but the symbols here were hard and angular rather than the smooth forms he remembered.


    He turned his attention to their captors when a harsh voice called Gring forward. She obeyed, and when she finally stood close to the three other Khraga present in the hall he saw how small and fragile she looked in comparison to them. She didn''t wear any of the heavy armor they sported, only a leather jerkin not much thicker than his own. In their dark armor their captors stood as tall as a soldier in a body walker, and they looked almost as invincible, but for once Arthur knew it was only an illusion. A body walker would tear through them in an instant. He''d like to have one now. Wistful thinking. He''d wanted adventure, and now when he was in one he longed for an easy solution out of it.


    Too soft, we''ve grown too soft. Always knowing that you can call for help doesn''t do much for initiative, does it?


    He drew a deep breath and sighed again. As if he could take any initiative now.


    Then there was something in the air intruding on his mind, and when he saw Chaijrild cringe and throw herself to the floor he could feel the panic spreading through his body. The fear causing scent had to be deliberate. This time he was better prepared than he had been in the Roadhouse, and centuries of genetic engineering on Earth had made previously impossible feats possible. Arthur drew a deep breath, willed his body to obedience and with a controlled amount of adrenaline pumping through his body he took a defensive stance and glared at the armored Khraga with what he hoped was a defiant stare. Of the tiredness and hunger there was nothing left. He wasn''t surprised when he was awarded a look almost amounting to shock and disbelief. He wanted them to see resistance, and it mattered little if it was wise or not. Arthur wondered what he would need to do to look even remotely as menacingly as the Khraga in their black leather. Grow another meter, to begin with, and then?


    Facing the warriors he saw they didn''t look like three copies of each other. None of them had the jet black fur covering Gring. Dark brown with different shades of gray were shared between two of them, and the third had a reddish tinge to his black making his fur look perpetually dirty. Kharg, he wasn''t as black as Arthur first had thought.


    He met an angry growl with one of his own. He wouldn''t back down now, not when his adrenaline filled body was strong enough for him to punch through armor and ribcage if need be. Slowly, very slowly, Arthur calmed down and studied the three warriors in front of him. He assumed they were males, but what if Gring just happened to be a dwarf among Khraga? The thought of a hairy, giant dwarf made him laugh despite his fear, and his amusement drew a growl from another one of the three.


    I am literally laughing in the face of my enemy. Damn, it feels good! To hell with precaution! Elation brought even more mirth to him, and he could hear his laughter carrying a tone of confidence having little in common with the desperation he ought to feel.


    Well done, little one. You carry yourself with great honor. I''m proud of you.


    He could hear the voice inside his head. It had to be Gring. So, mindwalkers had more tricks up their sleeves than just making translations unnecessary.


    Arthur continued laughing until the seriousness of their situation came back to him. He might feel better now, but things hadn''t improved for anyone but him. Maybe a little. Chaijrild wasn''t curled up on the floor any longer. That made him feel good as well. He wasn''t totally useless then.


    Gring spoke to Kharg. To Arthur''s surprise it wasn''t all gibberish. He tried listening in to the conversation, but he didn''t understand more than a few words. Whatever they spoke about a conclusion was soon reached, and as a result the prisoners were led in the direction of a doorway. Arthur had very little time to notice any details in the rooms and corridors they passed through, but as temperature dropped and he could feel a weak draft he realized they were probably heading outdoors. He was proved right and they went down a flight of stairs, a wide, ugly crack visible through the snow running from top to bottom, and once again he stood upon white snow.


    The daylight blinded him for a while, hurt his eyes, but he adjusted and searched his surroundings. They were standing in an open place with smaller buildings surrounding them. The houses were alien to his eyes. Over sized and windowless they were arranged in circles with the doorways facing the fortress he''d just left.


    Arthur saw a few children, or at least what he assumed were children, playing roughly with each other, growling rather than laughing. Predators, they were predators by nature. There was no questioning some of them were badly hurt from time to time the way they were playing. It must be a hard society, but even the children looked hardy. He didn''t see any old Khraga. Hell, he didn''t know what an old Khraga would look like if he saw one. Maybe it was only his own presumptions telling him he shouldn''t expect anyone to reach advanced age here.


    Arthur wondered how much of his knowledge was really knowledge and how much was just assumptions based on prejudice.


    We''re so fond of organizing. Everything must be in a labeled box. Can''t have anything outside the frames of our understanding, can we?


    He tugged his cloak closer around him to keep the wind out. The cold just made his hunger more acute. Arthur sniffed. There was something more here as well, a peculiar smell in the air he didn''t recognize.


    Gring watched him sniffing in the air.


    "It doesn''t feel like the Sea of Grass," he answered her unvoiced question.


    "We''re closer to the sea. You smell the water."


    So that''s what it is?


    Arthur didn''t have much experience of the sea, not even from home. It was a place he visited from time to time and maybe sailed upon once every second year or so. "What''s it like?"


    "Wet."


    "I mean, more than that."


    "Cold."


    He smiled. "Everything is cold here, isn''t it?"


    "Not always. Sometimes during summer it becomes very hot. Too hot, but the sea is always cold."


    "You don''t seem too fond of open waters," Arthur commented.


    "Proper humans are not supposed to be there. Creatures that swim live there."


    "You can''t swim?"


    "Why should I?"


    Arthur stared at her. "I just assumed. It''s supposed to be handy knowledge where I come from. There are a lot of us who enjoy the sea. Some even live off it."


    "Then you halfmen are the same wherever you come from. You travel on boats all the way from Keen, and sometimes those boats never come here, and yet you persist with this stupidity."


    "Don''t you have any ships of your own?"


    "We have, but not the big boats. Only for crossing rivers."


    Arthur smiled again. She''d call a barge a boat. Maybe their big, furred bodies didn''t take well to water, or maybe they simply couldn''t learn to swim very well. A gust of wind forced itself inside his clothes and he shivered. Once again he was reminded of hunger. The fresh air had only fooled him into forgetting how weak he was.


    Why the hell are we treated this way? "Gring, why don''t they feed us?"


    "I don''t know."


    "Chaijrild can''t take much more."


    Gring smiled at him, yellow tusks clearly visible. "And you can?"


    "Have to, or she''ll just give up."


    "You are brave. You show honor where we do not. It''s a disgrace the way we treat you."


    "We?" Gring never ceased to amaze him. "They make you a prisoner, and still you consider them to be your own."


    "Of course. We are human. You are not."


    Arthur shook his head. "You place too much importance in looks. You''ve proved to be human, but I consider myself one as well."


    "You could never be, halfman, even if you sometimes behave as one."


    Arthur gave up. It was more than simply a difference in culture.


    He wondered what was going to happen now. There had to be a reason for them leaving the fortress. A trial? He drew a deep breath.


    Damn them! Couldn''t they at least tell us why? The reason for their capture for example. Maybe they''d been told. Gring no longer used her powers all the time, and there''d been too much talking when he wasn''t allowed to understand what they were saying.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Arthur felt, rather than saw, Kharg and his two companions pass to the left and join a crowd that was slowly growing. Then Gring''s presence was gone again.


    Arthur swore silently. More secret conversations then. He listened absentmindedly to the talking when it started. It grew heated, and a lot of pointing at him proved he apparently was part of the discussion he wasn''t allowed to take part in.


    Then Arthur felt the familiar tingling signaling that Gring had invited him to understand what was being said. So now it suited her to let him in. Not knowing what was expected from him he looked at her for support.


    "Kharg goes too far. He openly accuses you of not being a taleweaver."


    Arthur stared at her. "And what of it?"


    "You behaved with honor in there. It''s no more than right you get to defend yourself."


    That didn''t exactly answer any questions of his, but she seemed determined he spoke. "If it makes you feel better."


    How should he make his case? The answer came to him almost immediately. Then another realization. There was indeed something in this world allowing him to deliver one of his special shows almost at will.


    Arthur briefly considered telling them about the short battle ending in capture, but not wanting to show the Khraga the function of the weapon they''d taken from him he decided to tell them something else. Something they could never have experienced.


    Home! My everyday home is grand magic to them.


    He gathered his thoughts, and for the first time he was acutely aware of his Weaving. There could be no better word for it. Strands of memories mingled with each other until they became a living tapestry he shared with everyone listening to him. He invited them to a ride on a mag train He walked them through a game of football where the audience alone amassed more humans than any of them could possibly have seen together in their entire lives. He brought them on a flight from a launch port so they could see the city spreading out over an area he guessed was larger than their entire nation, if they even used the concept of nations.


    It was easier this time, and not as exhausting as the night at the Taleweaver''s Inn in the Roadhouse, not even as tiring as when he had Woven at cook fires earlier. It was as if knowing what he was doing made him spend less while adding more detail. They filled in all scents and the distant views themselves, and he had a feeling he was cheating a little. It was, he decided, mostly tricks of the trade. The exactness was not as important at the meaning, and at this occasion he only needed to convince them that he was what Gring had said him to be.


    Arthur studied them when he had finished. Most were awestruck, but Kharg still kept his cold stare. That one would be hard to convince, but Arthur was at a loss how to do so. He had Woven, and he knew nothing more to do. He allowed his breathing to calm down. It had been exhaustive after all, and he was still weak from hunger. Cold through as well. They must have stood here for the better part of an hour. Chaijrild stood shivering beside him now when the impossible world of foreign wonders he''d shown lost its grip on her. Coming back must have been doubly hard on her. Maybe it hadn''t been so wise to pick a late April''s day, but he''d wanted them to experience the greenery of the parks in the city.


    "Lies, it''s all lies!" Kharg broke the silence.


    "There may be some pretense in my world, but I would hardly go as far as to call it lies," Arthur said at last, growling stomach slowly giving way to rising ire.


    "What was that?" Chaijrild asked. The sound of her voice told him she was still dreaming herself away from here.


    "An ancient city called Paris. It''s one of the largest on Earth. Dirty and beautiful at the same time. More people live in that city alone than in all but the largest of your empires here I''d guess."


    "I''d like to see it."


    "Maybe one day." Arthur smiled.


    "He''s playing oath breaker tricks with your minds," Kharg accused.


    Irritation rose. He''d faced Kharg inside the fort, and the hulking frame seemed less frightening now.


    "That''s no trick. I admit such huge cities are not that common on Earth, but we have a fair share of them. I have visited that place several times, and on the landmass we call Europe it''s rivaled in size by no less than six other cities." Arthur had the feeling Kharg didn''t look for proof. Gring had hinted at something else, even though she probably didn''t know Arthur had caught any such meaning from her comments.


    "Still, I say he lies. I can prove it," Kharg announced to the Khraga assembled there.


    "How can you prove a lie where there is none?" Arthur retorted.


    "Silence, skinless one!"


    "I''m allowed to speak whenever I want!"


    Gring tugged at Arthur''s clothes, and that, rather than anything Kharg said made him silent.


    "I will make you all know the falsehood of the oath breaker," Kharg continued.


    "How?" Gring asked.


    "Not how, but where," Kharg answered.


    "What do you mean by that? Are we not humans who can decide for ourselves what is truth and what is not?" she retorted.


    "You are a renegade who travels with an oath breaker for reasons only benefiting yourself."


    Gring growled, and other Khraga stepped forward as they heard the accusation.


    "Kharg, if it is as you say, then we should question her." One voice from the crowd, but Arthur couldn''t see who had spoken.


    "No, we must go where the halfman mage cannot play his false tricks on our minds."


    "That is not our ways."


    "That is what I say," Kharg answered.


    "Gring is not sworn to us. You would have our laws imposed on her anyway?" Now there was anger in the voice, and a Khraga marched forward to be seen by them all.


    "I will and that is what I order. We will go and find out the real truth behind all this. We will jump with the prisoners," Kharg responded.


    "That is not our ways. Your deeds carry little honor."


    "You dare oppose me? I am sworn to our laws. I am a sworn leader among us. I decide how to handle a renegade."


    "You do, and yet you bend our laws to bring great danger upon us."


    "Then oppose me or be silent. I dare you to break the law by opposing me."


    There was only a dissatisfied murmur in response and Arthur sighed, a deep, desperate sigh.


    "Again?" he asked Gring.


    She bowed in affirmation.


    "Where?"


    "I don''t know. We''re prisoners. They don''t tell prisoners what we don''t need to know."


    "Why?"


    Gring nodded at the Khraga around them. The air was still buzzing with angry words. "They don''t know what to do. Kharg is war chief. His word is law. You''re a taleweaver. Your safety is law."


    "I don''t understand."


    "No matter what happens they break the law. You are protected by a law from the outside. Kharg is here. They know it brings disaster, but Kharg is the law present, and they will let him take us."


    Arthur shook his head in dismay. They bloody needed to know what was happening to them, but of course their captors didn''t share his sentiment. They didn''t have to. They weren''t led around like cattle to slaughter.


    "Damn them all to hell!"


    "I don''t understand."


    He laughed. "Sometimes, Gring, you''re just too sweet and innocent for your own good. Did you know that?"


    "Of course not. Only a halfman would consider me innocent," she replied, confirming his thoughts without understanding she did.


    "You are, truly," he answered. She really was, and he marveled at meeting such refreshing sweetness in a hairy monster who could crush every bone in his body without even exerting herself.

 Intermezzo

    "This is the famous Roadhouse?"


    "It is, Madame," the translator answered.


    Christina gave the walls a long stare. They should come down as fast as the last ones had done.


    "Mount the guns and invite us there!"


    "Should we not talk with them first, Madame?"


    "They''ll talk whenever I demand."


    "As you say, Madame."


    The tripods were assembled almost as quickly as the gates fell. The rest should have been slaughter, but the barbarians defending the fort had weapons Christina didn''t recognize. In the end they failed to force their way in, and she even lost one of her two launchers and a hovercraft to a flamethrower before they could return fire with shrapnel grenades.


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    She had to satisfy herself with shelling the fort from a distance where her troops were safe. After a couple of hours they had depleted almost a third of their grenades, but at that time the flames from inside were rising so high she could see them over the walls. They shot anyone trying to escape through the gates until the idiots inside finally learned the lesson.


    "You can stop firing now," Christina said after she had made her mind up about leaving.


    They returned down the road, but not faster than that she could personally oversee the deploying of mines over the entire road for more than two kilometers. The monkeys needed some more education. There was always a price for denying Christina Ulfsdotir what she wanted.

 Chapter thirteen, Friends, part one

    Nakora stared in disbelief. She knew about jumping, but it was a totally different thing to experience it. She''d expected something else, or at least something more than the sudden feeling of a strong wind inside her body, a moment of nothingness and then standing out in the open again. She tried to find something allowing her to guess where they were, but the plains were just as white and nondescript as she remembered them. There was nothing but the bluish mountains to their west, but at this distance she couldn''t make out anything distinct enough to give her a hint of where they''d arrived relative to where they''d started their strange journey.


    The first time Escha had jumped them to Ri Khi she''d been too occupied with their mission to prepare for the experience, but this time she had at least tried.


    The ever present wind wailed silently around her, already trying to coat her cheeks in a thin, biting sheet of coldness, and with the cold came the peculiar absence of smell. The short stay in Ri Nachi had reminded her of how much she took everyday pleasure for granted. She brushed the back of her hand over her face in a futile attempt to bring some warmth back.


    Gods! Did it only take me one single day to get so used to a warm room and hot food? I''ve become lazy! She shook the thought away. She had insisted on coming with them, and she did have the fighting experience they lacked. At least the experience three of them lacked. It was hard to know about the golden one. Neritan was ancient, maybe older than Ri Nachi itself, and that city had some places reeking of age.


    Nakora shrugged. There was no point in guessing at the knowledge the golden amassed during their ages long lives. They looked human, but their eyes, their golden, too old eyes mirrored a disdain for time that was far from human. It made her uneasy. The thought of someone speaking with ancestors she didn''t even know about seemed wrong somehow. They were aloof as well. Humans were tools, or in the best of circumstances, acquaintances to them.


    Nakora sullenly ransacked herself once more. She hadn''t earned her birthright by lying about her own reasons. Her resentment of the golden woman spoke of other reasons, and beauty was the least of them. Ri Khi wasn''t Keen. The acceptance of skill alone never substituted birth back home, or sex for that matter. She''d fought bitterly for her station; spent years overcoming the prejudices of a kingdom where leadership belonged to men alone and no woman was truly accepted among the troops. Now Neritan Hwain, ancient mage and a glorious wonder by her own heritage alone, just walked into their mission without as much as a single complaint voiced by the others.


    Some people gets everything easier than others.


    The wailing grew to a shrill scream and a gust of wind rudely threw snow in her face. She wiped the cold away and turned her thoughts to their mission again. "Where are we, Khar Escha?"


    "Sea of Grass, honored Captain, but exactly where I don''t know. I have jumped us to a location given to me. Mindwalker Hwain should know."


    Nakora waited for Neritan to speak.


    "Actually, I don''t know. If you say we are on the Sea of Grass, then that''s where we are. I only know that this is a place important in one way or another for those we seek, and I know they were here reasonably recently."


    Nakora groaned mentally. So much for a clear answer. For all their powers the mages behaved like two blind dotards leading one another.


    "It''s not that easy," Neritan said.


    Gods! Mindwalkers really didn''t care about invading the mind of another human. How much more was she prying?


    "Our gifts work in very different ways," Neritan continued heedless of Nakora''s mental complaint. "He needs to see a place physically, or as if he had seen it for himself. He''s the one who can tell you about distances and directions. I can''t do that. My gifts only concern the mind and the body. I can feel the imprints of a mind, but that doesn''t give me knowledge I don''t have." She hesitated for a moment. "Just as if you''re looking at a painting depicting something meaningful to the painter but not to you. You see it, but you don''t understand."


    Escha nodded. "That may be true, glorious one, but we are a long way from Ri Khi, and the place you showed me is very close to where we started from. Too close to be of any difference, even if it feels longer if you ride or walk for a few days."


    "Gods! Am I surrounded by morons?" Harbend yelled from a distance.


    Nakora could see him standing a bit away glaring at a small mound of snow. He must have gone in exploration of the place while they were talking.


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    All of them rushed to his side.


    Nakora frowned, trying to understand what Harbend had seen. There was something familiar here. Then she realized where they were.


    A place of importance to those we are searching for. "Escha! We have been here already. This is the place where they were attacked." As she looked closer she could see traces of hoof prints the wind hadn''t covered with snow. Five full days, and they were back where they had started, with the caravan far ahead of them.


    "We would have been closer if we had continued to ride in pursuit of them," Harbend complained.


    Nakora didn''t need the gifts of a Mindwalker to hear him swear mentally. In her thoughts she joined his cursing. She gazed across the whiteness around them.


    "Suggestions anyone?" she offered. It wasn''t a fighting decision anyway.


    Harbend growled. "Well, we can hardly walk from here." He turned to Escha. "Can you jump us to where they are from here?"


    Escha gave Neritan a quizzical look, but she shook her head. "We have to wait here and search for them, Master Garak," he said after a while.


    "Like we did in Ri Nachi?" Harbend retorted angrily. "I think not. Jump us to the caravan, if you can find it."


    "It''ll take time and energy. I''ll need more time to locate those you seek if we jump to your caravan first," Neritan said.


    "Listen to me. It shall be dark soon. I am not sitting out the night in the middle of nowhere with dragon packs prowling around us." Harbend kicked at the mound until it caved in.


    Harbend makes sense. We are useless out here. Nakora kept her silence though.


    "Master Garak is in charge of our honorable mission as well as the daring trading prospect. We would do well to listen to his advice," Trai said, and by doing so decided their course of action.


    Neritan sighed unhappily, more so than Escha, but together they managed to locate the caravan, and as darkness was about to fall Escha jumped them there.


    Nakora decided not to intervene. She was both irritated they''d spent an entire day in vain and more than a little relieved they would at least spend the night in decent quarters. She would get a chance to plan ahead with Harbend as well. Better planning was needed, and the company could be worse.


    ***


    "Master, should we have listened to the golden Khar instead?"


    "Dear Escha, that decision was Lord Garak''s alone. Now, come my love and let us be comfortable with each other instead."


    Escha followed Trai away from the cook fire. He loved his master, but sometimes Trai didn''t think things through. The scars on his body were proof of times when he''d used his gift without proper precaution, and in the years passing Escha had convinced Trai to be a little bit more careful. That only worked to a degree. An act that didn''t present direct danger was still nothing Trai could be bothered to think through in advance. Probably the main reason Trai would never rise very high among Khars despite his awesome powers with fire.


    Tomorrow they would start searching for Arthur again. Always for Arthur. Taleweaver or not, Escha didn''t like the implications. It was as if the Khraga and the girl didn''t count. He didn''t understand that. They were fellow members of the caravan as well, and yet the executions earlier had proved how the people here cared less for free men than masters cared for their slaves in Khanati.


    It was a strange land this. Cold and desolate without any of the beauty he was used to. He was certain it was a reason the people living here wore barren hearts as well.


    Escha frowned. They needed strong Fire Khars here to warm their miserable lives, just like Trai was a fiery, lovely light in his, but Escha could never remember his life being miserable, even before he met Trai. It was good to have a master caring for your needs though, and Trai, for all his sweet shortcomings, was a very good master.

 Chapter thirteen, Friends, part two

    Neritan and Escha sat face to face, in deep concentration when Nakora arrived. Escha''s dark skin contrasted to Neritan''s creamy white, his black hair and her silver. Throbbing waves of power radiated from them, but not as if from two sources. They were joined as one single entity, using their gifts together.


    Nakora wondered what it was like, and sometimes she wished she had the gift herself. It was taxing, she''d heard. Long use tired the body the same way a hard march did, but there was no benefit like the body learning and growing more resilient to hard wear. They''d never grow strong unless they spent time with physical training. Those who did had to work twice as hard, and she knew a lot of magehealers slept very little.


    Nothing to do but wait, and wait she did until Harbend finally showed up. There was another who had to work long days.


    So worn! When did he eat last?


    Everyone expected him to solve their problems, or at least listen to them. A lord from Khi, their true homeland, and it was as if anyone from there had to be able to be, well, more able. She wasn''t clear why. Maybe a residue from a distant feeling of failure, but that was ridiculous.


    Seven hundred years had passed since her ancestors failed to return home to their lands and families. By now it was more of a legend than anything else. Only the golden had any memories, but that sufficed to remind the humans of what could have been.


    She left the mages to meet Harbend.


    You look so lonely. It is a strange thing I care so much. What is happening to me? Realization crashed down on her. No, it shall not be! But it was, and she had to force her racing heart to slow down before she could speak.


    "They are making ready," Nakora said as she came closer.


    "Good. When we have found them and brought them back I shall have a talk with Arthur about the wisdom of walking about alone in the wilderness."


    Nakora grinned in response. Harbend was right. None of this would have happened at all if the outworlder had come back with the rest of the vanguard. If he didn''t know, then the Khraga should have.


    "We shall find them," she assured him.


    "With three mages of that magnitude helping us we had better."


    The comment hurt her, but she pretended it had not. He couldn''t know how she hated any part of a mission she couldn''t control, or at least influence.


    Or because it comes from you.


    "Should we go to them?"


    "Yes, I think so. Escha seems to prefer us being close to him when he jumps."


    Harbend was gifted with strong hands, and a handsome face. He had thrown her long looks earlier. She was surprised the thought didn''t disturb her more. They walked across the patch of trampled snow, dirtied from many feet crossing it. She gave him another glance. His side knot wasn''t in very good order any longer, but he hardly had any time to keep his hair properly dressed out here. Smiling she sat down beside the mages.


    When Trai arrived Nakora knew they were ready, and she prepared herself for the jump. It came and went, and they arrived at another open place where days of walking had turned the snow a grayish yellow. She saw huts around her, enormous huts, and then she heard Neritan cry out behind her.


    Nakora wheeled, sword already drawn, crouching to meet whatever the golden mage had seen. Nothing.


    "Khraga! You never mentioned Khraga," Neritan said.


    "Gring is with us," Nakora explained after making certain none of the dangerous giants were close.


    "No, you idiots, this is a Khragan settlement. How did your outworlder friend get involved with them?"


    How did she know? Oh, must have been on Harbend''s mind.


    Nakora smiled at Neritan. "Gring''s a follower of Arthur''s, just like Khar Achnai and Khar Escha."


    Neritan stared at the mages.


    "It''s true, glorious one. We accompanied Master Garak''s bold venture in the hopes of learning from Lord Wallman," Trai answered the unspoken question.


    "Learn?"


    "Yes, your golden grace. Ever since he Wove we''ve come to..."


    "Wove? The outworlder''s a taleweaver?" Neritan stared at them.


    Into us, Nakora realized.


    "You incompetents managed to lose a taleweaver?" Neritan continued.


    "I think more of him a a friend, but yes," Harbend admitted.


    "I don''t care if he''s your lover. He''s a taleweaver and you never even had enough sense to tell me. I joined your rescue mission to relieve the caravan from tension, not to rescue you from political repercussions your underdeveloped minds can''t possibly understand!"


    "Whatever, we''re here. Now we get Lord Wallman back." Trai glared at Neritan with eyes dark enough to make anyone understand he didn''t take well to being called mindless. Then he made for the stairs.


    Idiot! You have to turn her insult into truth. Nakora turned to stop the Khar from his idiocy, but too late. Harbend and Trai were already on their way up the stairs, Harbend carefully keeping the doors in sight to be ready for whatever might be waiting there and Trai just trampling ahead as if there was nothing to fear at all.


    Nakora didn''t mind bravery. It was needed from time to time, but she abhorred stupidity, and at the moment Trai excelled in the latter. Anyone guarding the place needed to be blind not to see him rushing ahead like that.


    Thank you for giving us away like that! We are not exactly coming in force.


    With the moment of surprise lost she rushed after Trai and Harbend. Now they needed numbers more than anything else. Numbers they didn''t have. If the entrance was indeed empty she meant to keep Trai in check before they advanced further into the building.


    Nakora reached the doorway. Both men already inside. She had nothing to do but rush in after them. She could hear Escha running behind her. He probably thought she had everything under control and blindly followed her into whatever madness she was leading him into. Gods! She''d skin Trai alive if they managed to get away from here.


    One short corridor and then suddenly an entry hall. It was almost circular in shape with three corridors leading away from it, one of which they had come through. Running steps came from both of the others. Had the idiots separated already or did one set of running feet belong to whoever lived here?


    Flickering torches on the walls and a lonely oil lamp on a wooden table desperately tried to lighten up the gloomy interior without much success. Nakora crouched, weapon ready, as she tried to decide which way to go. Escha breathed hard from running. Neritan was there as well.


    The thumping of feet against stone from the left came closer and Nakora chose the right corridor. She ran, as silently as she could, and soon entered yet another circular room very much alike the first they had arrived in. The fortress was turning into an uncomfortable maze.


    Speed now. If we''re fast enough we can still surprise them.


    More on instinct than anything else Nakora headed for the left corridor so as not to hug the outer wall for too long. A few rooms later she was totally lost, but they hadn''t encountered anyone, not even heard any sound but for their own steps and breathing, and she didn''t want to tell her two companions she didn''t know where they were.


    Irritation caught her mind as she continued her search, not only for the people they were looking for, but for two of their own as well. Two more rooms and then she finally found herself in what could only be the center of the building. A large hall, better lit than the rooms they had passed, with a dais in the middle.


    This time they were not alone. Four giant Khraga in leather armor stood, one each, at the other entrances to the hall she could see. Nakora rolled forward on the floor.


    Just a bit too close.


    A movement in the air as something heavy had passed over her. Coming to her feet she turned. She faced the Khraga her reflexes had already told her must be there. She held her sword. The guard was just standing there, eyes glazed over.


    "Left!" Escha roared.


    She cut low, twisting her body and threw its weight into the strike. The sword cut through leather and flesh. She sidestepped, backwards to the left and thrust slightly upwards. The Khraga fell over her sword and she abandoned it. Whipping out a dagger instead she stabbed down. Blade penetrating the neck the Khraga crashed to the floor. Nakora put a foot to the carcass and pulled her dagger out. After turning the body she retrieved her sword.


    Escha, Neritan where?


    There was a sense of wrongness to the hall she couldn''t place. Another two Khraga yelled and converged on their target.


    Only two of you? And where are you going?


    They ran towards her but rather to an entrance across the hall.


    Escha, you cunning bastard! You jumped me here. Poor guard never had a chance.


    Cunning or not, he still left Neritan and himself without protection.


    Something moved behind her. She ducked and almost cut through Harbend''s crotch before staying her sword. He gave her a surprised look soon replaced with relief. Then, staring across the hall, he dashed for Neritan and Escha. He wasn''t graceful, running like a charging bull without any concern for what dangers could be lurking here.


    Nakora swore and ran after him. Fools, she was on a mission surrounded by fools, and they were doing their best to get themselves killed. She made sure she wasn''t followed while she crossed the hall.


    Giving a short, thankful thought to whatever gods protected idiots she saw Neritan bolting back the way she had come. Escha just vanished. At least he had the means to escape.


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    Two Khraga followed Neritan, but one remained unmoving. Harbend chased after them, each at least twice his size, without as much as even bothering to check if the remaining one was about to engage him.


    Nakora studied the Khraga as she neared the opening. It was still standing there with unseeing eyes. Neritan must have done something. She was a Mindwalker after all. Satisfied it posed no immediate danger Nakora rushed after Harbend hoping she''d be able to catch up with him before he ran into the Khraga he was chasing.


    No problem in choosing corridors this time. The sounds of feet and shouts led her way. She just had to follow the alarm. That, at least was the theory, but arriving in one of the seemingly endless rows of circular rooms Nakora accepted she had lost them.


    She sheathed her sword and unhooked her crossbow. A quarrel would at least give her the benefit of a wounded opponent before she had to engage in Pelee with something far too large for her to handle without the advantage of surprise on her side.


    A heavy weapon. Not the slender yet powerful tool for killing favored by the troops in Keen. This was Kordic design, made for penetrating heavy armor no longer used by anyone but the most rigidly conservative of the Kordic heavy horse. Still, Ri Kordari had been a neighbor for long years, and now the preferred distance weapon in Ri Khi was a monster taking ages to load instead of the heavy, recurved longbow her ancestors had first carried with them.


    Nakora groaned as she winched the reloader until the click told her it was ready for fitting with a quarrel. It was too big for her, but she had been too stubborn to discard it. By now she was almost proficient, at least if she could steady it on something when loosing.


    Weapon ready, she stole through the corridors, hesitating before she had to enter any room. Even though she realized the exit must be close Nakora felt like walking aimlessly for an eternity. All the time waiting to be ambushed.


    Then, when she feared she would spend the rest of her life marching up and down empty rooms and corridors, she heard noises again. It was the sound of fighting, not metal ringing on metal, but steps and breaths in a pattern she recognized all too well. Nakora sprinted ahead. She almost dashed into the back of Neritan and fell to her knees to find a target. Neritan moved making it impossible to get a clear sight. The golden mage sidestepped a blow, Khraga towering above her. Again it trying to cut her down with its weapon. Neritan continued her dance with death, and Nakora had to crawl back to avoid standing in her way.


    Gods! She moves like a warrior. Mage and warrior, is there nothing she has failed to master?


    Whenever the Khraga attacked, Neritan simply moved away from where the cut or thrust was aimed. Armed with daggers only she had to. Blocking the weapon would have been futile. It still was a very one sided fight. The Khraga attacked and the mage moved out of harms way, but she never struck back. There could eventually only be one outcome.


    Frantically Nakora searched for a way to intervene without getting in the way, and an opportunity did come. An opening emerged, and with one hand over the quarrel she dove and rolled past the combatants.


    The missile was still in its place as she got to her knees. She steadied herself, aimed and pulled the trigger. At such close distance it was impossible to miss, and the quarrel penetrated leather armor at mid abdomen. The Khraga grunted in pain.


    Neritan gave it a hard stare and the Khraga reeled over as if struck.


    More Mindwalker powers.


    Neritan closed with her weapons. When the Khraga sluggishly turned its attention to its new assailant she slashed with her sword.


    She panted heavily and examined the corpse. Blue black fur dirtied by blood and clad in dark leather armor it still managed to look menacingly, almost as if it would rise to strike again. She glanced at Neritan, unsure what to say, but the golden mage only nodded back at her.


    "Lucky. We were lucky this time."


    Nakora agreed. "How long?"


    "How long before he would have brought me down or how long I fought it before you arrived?"


    "Both, I guess." Nakora blushed when she realized her answer might be taken as an offense.


    "Longer than I''d care to repeat," Neritan responded after a while. "I heal and help people. Killing I try to leave to others."


    They met each other''s gaze as the aftershock slowly subsided and silence enveloped them both.


    "Have you seen the others?" Nakora asked when she had calmed down.


    "Trai got a lead on me, and I had to distract him," Neritan pointed at the corpse beneath them, "before he could turn and cut Harbend down. He tried to come to my help, but I ordered him to continue."


    "You saw Trai?"


    "Yes. Somehow he managed to come up behind us on our way in here."


    Nakora didn''t need Neritan to explain more. Of course the maze of corridors had to double back on themselves.


    "I saw Escha jump after you ran. We had better get out of here before trying to find Arthur," Nakora suggested.


    "He''s not here. I can''t feel his presence any longer. He was here yesterday though."


    Gods! Then this had been for nothing. Nakora used the silence to ready her crossbow, and when it was loaded she turned to Neritan. "I suggest we remove our presence from here as well."


    Neritan nodded in silent agreement and they started searching for the right way out. As earlier, it turned out to be easier in theory than in deed, and they spent another eternity walking around in circles. It wasn''t until Nakora thought of grabbing a torch to mark the way on the walls she made out their bearings. After that they made better progress.


    Close to the main entrance they stumbled into problems again. Five Khraga came running down one corridor just as Neritan followed her out into one of the circular rooms. Nakora had to dash blindly into another corridor. She could hear Neritan following her, but foremost the roars of their pursuers rose behind them.


    Nakora was close to exhaustion when the world around her turned red and hot. Briefly she wondered if she''d been cut down. Years of training forced her to continue down the corridor and out into a room before she turned to meet her pursuers. Neritan sprinted closer and passed her, and then the Khraga came rushing down on them. Nakora desperately backed into the corridor Neritan had chosen.


    Now I die.


    Then a streak of fire caught the closest Khraga full in the face, and it stopped dead.


    Nakora didn''t understand what had happened, but she cried out with relief. Then she caught sight of Harbend crouching in the third doorway leading into the room she had just left.


    A spear flew her way and she barely dodged it. She had to get away from the opening. Nakora backed away even further into the corridor as another Khraga charged after her.


    Another lance of fire stabbed into the doorway.


    Ah, Trai made it after all.


    That was the first good news she had received during the entire dismal day. Nakora decided to wait a bit longer. With the support of the Fire Khar she might be able to hold the corridor until Harbend found a way to reach her.


    "Harbend, hurry! They are not here and nor should we be."


    There was no answer and she had to duck as another spear came flying.


    "Down, Nakora!" Trai''s voice.


    Now that was a novelty. Trai might be a powerful Fire Khar, but he still had a lot to learn about fighting. If she had waited for his warning before she ducked she would have been impaled. She rolled and came up swearing. The crossbow was useless now. Strung but with no quarrel. It had fallen out.


    A scream and a wave of heat made her flinch, but she groggily held her position. In front of her a shape writhed in flames, still screaming and clawing at itself in a futile attempt to flee from the fire. She gagged at the sight.


    Then another shadow behind the quickly thinning, fiery curtain grew in size. It was Harbend dashing for safety.


    "Where is Escha?" he yelled.


    "With Neritan, outdoors." Nakora grabbed Harbend''s sleeve and led him away. "Trai, get out of here!"


    They ran. She was grateful they had all made it away from the awful place, but she could see the disappointment in Harbend''s eyes. He had all but promised they would find Arthur here, and failure must weigh heavily on his shoulders by now. She hoped he wouldn''t blame himself too much later.


    He yelled something to Trai as she ran for the arced gateway leading out.


    A wave of hot air followed her out and threw her to the ground as she finally came into the open.


    Gods! Trai is powerful.


    Screams still, but none from behind her. She didn''t dare to look, didn''t want to know what had happened. She staggered to her feet and let her legs decide again.


    Away, just away from here!


    Escha there, and Neritan, but she couldn''t see the others. Then, at once Harbend with a nightmare behind him. It had to be Trai, but the figure was embraced by flames, blazing and writhing in agony.


    Neritan screamed, and Trai. Escha, Escha stood mute but with a pain in his face a roar of despair more deafening than any scream. Harbend was the only one acting rather than staring. He removed his coat and covered the burning body with it as he grappled with it, rolling on the snow until the flames went out.


    Harbend peeled off his ruined coat, and she turned away from the sight. What she saw instead was, if possible, even worse. The fortress flowed. Made of stone it burned anyway. Like molten glass it moved over the ground. The air was thick with smoke and steam, and distantly, as if part of a bad dream, screams still surrounded them.

 Intermezzo

    "What are those?"


    Vildir stared at the skeletal figures ahead of them, and a glint of fear, and uncertainty he hadn''t shown ever before glimmered in his eyes.


    "I think they are the outworlders we are looking for," Ramdar answered.


    "They look more like something from a dream of darkness to me. Monsters of legend." Vildir shuddered but fought for composure again. "Well, those could be fought. What are we waiting for?"


    The air of confidence was back in the man, and Ramdar was happy to have that support, because he fervently wished they didn''t have to meet the strange creatures. A nightmare come alive. Vildir''s assessment was spot on as usual.


    Ramdar dared himself to pull a leg forward forcing himself to slowly walk closer while his brain screamed at him that he only brought himself that much closer to his own doom.


    With a metallic hiss one of the creatures turned to face him, and Ramdar barely managed to will himself to continue. He desperately wanted to turn and run until he could run no more. Anything but being this close to walking death.


    Suddenly the monster went dull. It stopped humming as well. A click broke the silence.


    Is this how it ends?


    Vildir drew his sword and then the apparition opened up.


    "Hold, Vildir!"


    A man climbed out of and down from the thing. So it was only a mechanical device after all.


    For a moment Ramdar thought Vildir was going to attack, but the horse-lord held his weapon.


    The man they faced wore clothes clearly marking him an outworlder, and his eyes, hard as Vildir''s, gave away his being a veteran soldier as well. He spoke. A short stream of unintelligible words.


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    Ramdar answered before he realized nothing he said was understood. They stared at each other, and after a short time of uncomfortable silence Ramdar knew he mirrored the strangers expression of stupid incomprehension. The tension deflated like a pierced water skin and they both laughed.


    "Vildir, you had better ask our companions if they have a translator, or better yet, a Mindwalker among them."


    "Excuse me, Lord Garak?"


    "We have established diplomatic contact, but it seems we are sadly lacking any means of communication."


    Vildir groaned but obeyed.


    With nothing better to do than wait Ramdar turned his attention to the smell of fires that had clung to the area the entire time. He sniffed and the outworlder soldier must have seen him doing so, because he raised his arm and pointed in the direction of the seashore. Ramdar looked in the suggested direction. He saw nothing but the beach, waves and some reefs, and in the distance the port of Hasselden. He shrugged, but something stirred in his mind and he looked again. Beach, yes. Waves, yes. The reefs however moved with the waves, at least some of them.


    The outworlder soldier bent down and grabbed a twig from the ground. Then he pointed at the sea and broke the twig between his hands.


    Shipwrecks! They weren''t reefs but the broken remains of ships. Ramdar scanned the coastline and gasped. It was littered with debris of what must once have been a entire fleet of ships.


    A growl and a satisfied laughter caught his attention. The soldier patted his walking armor with an affection explaining better than any words what had happened here.


    Ramdar answered him with a bark of laughter and a grim smile. Now, at last, they had conveyed a message to each other that needed no translator to be understood.

 Chapter fourteen, Gaz

    They jumped. The strange sensation of nothingness followed by the shock of suddenly being elsewhere and Gring was certain they had arrived wherever their captors intended them to. A jump tower this time, but as they all looked the same it didn''t reveal their destination. Then the smell, the all too well known smell. She was home again, home in Gaz. The thought carried little comfort, but also very little fear. She had done nothing to sully her honor. Someone had though, and she wanted to know who. She would know who.


    Something new. Khraga plotting like oath breakers. Disturbing, but maybe not the machinations of a Khraga after all. There were others in power here in Gaz. Mages, some of them terrible, but not all, far from all. Most were true to their word, and someone would listen to her.


    The treatment of the taleweaver embarrassed her. Such lack of honor displayed by one of her own. Things changing in ways she didn''t approve of. Changes were inevitable of course, but they could at least be honorable.


    Gring growled. Kharg behaved like an oath breaker. He was like an honor less man driven by something, or someone, no human should pay any heed. Gring couldn''t understand how one of her own had sunk so low. It shouldn''t happen.


    What is it to be human if we start to behave like halfmen?


    The question disturbed her even more, and she decided not to pursue it any further.


    She sniffed. Scents were different here. The presence of golden halfmen strong. The short lived ones smelled different. That meant they had arrived at a palace rather than close to one of the large cities infested with dirt and disease.


    Sweet whiffs of winter roses coated the air, and she knew they must have jumped far away from the outlying territories where humans ruled themselves almost independently and lived according to tradition. Here, in Gaz, they preferred some of the ways of the halfmen, at least those visible to prodding eyes. Mostly clothes and how to keep a house. Indeed the lure of a strange culture was what had once made her leave the village where she was born and move to Gaz. Now she wasn''t so certain of the wisdom of her choice any longer, but she was since long oath-sworn to the empire.


    During the time it took her to wander through her memories they were transported down from the jump tower they had arrived on. Gring threw a glance backwards at the slender construction rising into the air. Golden mage halfmen had made them a long time ago, and she knew of no more being constructed since. Maybe the knowledge was lost, or maybe they simply decided there was no need of any more. She didn''t know.


    They were led along a narrow road descending through a valley between low hills. Kharg and two of his warriors escorted them and one of the human jump mages, the latter being the one who had jumped them here.


    Gring frowned at failing to recall his name. She ought to know the identity of a fellow mage, especially a human one.


    The wind was funneled by the hillsides, and Gring briefly wondered if Arthur and Chaijrild were cold. Even though the thought of freezing in the mild climate appalled her, the two halfmen were still her responsibility, and so she had to be aware of their weaknesses. Now she had to protect them from the possibility of human weakness as well.


    She glared at Kharg and made yet another attempt at feeling his reasons, but as earlier his mind was covered by a flexible yet strong blanket of power. She could read nothing more than his overt want for food and something to drink.


    She had started to try reading his thoughts after he proved his own dishonor. Anything else would have cast a shadow on the honor of her own. She had failed thus far. The strands of power surrounding him were unfamiliar to her, inhuman and strange. It probably meant they were golden in origin. Normal halfmen magic she recognized by now. She''d encountered it often enough during raids into Braka and even during her training here in Gaz. Training years so far removed now she accepted she couldn''t rely on her experience from them. She''d been far too unskilled at the time, and what she remembered might very well be mixed up with what her mind wanted her to remember from her youth. Only an idiot trusted childhood memories to be true representations of the time when they were formed. An idiot, or someone blinded by a fanatic belief in any ideal acquired to replace experience and decent traditions.


    Gring willed herself to look away from Kharg. The thoughts coming to her mind were so strong he didn''t have to be a Mindwalker to feel what she was thinking.


    They struggled on in silence broken by winds and the chirping of small birds only heard near farmlands, or at least a mansion where the birds were fed.


    Gring gazed ahead of them trying to see the first signs of fences, planted trees or any other visible sign of what kind of community they were finally going to arrive at, but the hillsides still obscured her sight, and she had to satisfy herself with a silent growl at one of their guards to vent her frustration. She received a disapproving stare in return from the warrior, but she didn''t care and glared back.


    All warriors were taught what Mind walkers could do to their minds if they scorned the weaker bodily strength of a mage. In war all weapons had to be respected, and more than one warrior had spent long nights plagued by constant nightmares to teach them proper manners. Shooting Kharg an angry glance she decided not all warriors learned enough.


    The valley widened and she could see they were indeed heading for a country estate. The property of a wealthy golden halfman by the look of it. None of the sturdiness coming from the wish to make an impregnable fortress such as those the oath breakers preferred to live in. The golden were almost as trustworthy as humans, and maybe they didn''t need to protect their lies as readily as other halfmen.


    A garden hid beneath a thin layer of snow with bare splotches where winter roses grew. Gring guessed it continued behind the mansion as well. Long rows of fruit trees grew as protection against the wind as much as for their more obvious use.


    This was part of what she called home, yet it still was more strange to her than the plains and mountains where her brethren lived by their own laws. A discomforting thought. Disturbing in a way she hadn''t expected. She growled in resignation. The visit to the human village had brought too many memories from childhood to her, and those memories made her homesick, longing for a way of living she''d chosen to discard. She was still growling when they were led inside and locked in.


    ***


    Arthur hardly had time to take in what he saw as they were forced through halls, up a few stairs and into a room with bars but no panes in the only window. At first it seemed better than the cell where they''d been kept earlier, but he soon noticed there were no beds here and it was almost as cold inside as outdoors. Someone had brought straw too dirty to be left in a stable and the meaning was all too clear to him. They were less than creatures to their captors. A way to confer an insult he''d never encountered before, but he was too tired to care.


    The continuous lack of food made him tired as well as cold, and he knew he slept much more than he would normally have done. Anything to conserve strength he guessed, but he didn''t complain. Sleeping meant less time spent feeling miserable, and if there ever came a chance for escape they would need all the strength they had.


    Arthur curled up in the straw and prepared to wander between waking dreams and an uneasy sleep when Chaijrild started crying. He turned away wishing she would stop, but as her sobbing continued he sighed and moved so he could see her.


    "What is it?" he asked. He was surprised at how irritated he sounded.


    "I''m cold."


    Well, he wasn''t the only one angry then. "So am I."


    "And I''m hungry."


    "I''m sorry, but I have no food."


    "I don''t want food."


    "What do you want then?" Did I really ask that question?


    Of course she wanted the same as he did. To be away from here and among friends again. Chaijrild just stared at him, and he almost expected her to slap him, but she just sunk back and looked down at her feet.


    "I''m afraid. I want this to stop," she said in a small voice.


    Suddenly at a loss for words Arthur caught himself feeling next to useless. He hadn''t been able to do much since they were caught, and now Chaijrild expected him to make their problems vanish.


    "If you have nothing more important to discuss I''m going to rest my gift now. It''s draining and we need to be strong." Gring''s voice. Always practical and always just a little bit too void of emotions for him to really understand. Now she''d managed to make him embarrassed. He didn''t know her powers were taxing. She''d never told him -- he''d never bothered to ask.


    He turned on the dirty straw and tried to sleep, but sleep didn''t come to him. He was cold and miserable from long days of neglect. Wet as well. The damp excuse for a mattress didn''t agree with him at all.


    Chaijrild stirred beside him.


    "What is it?" he whispered. De Vhatic was less awkward to use now.


    "I''m afraid."


    Arthur almost admitted he was afraid himself, but something told him she didn''t need to hear that now.


    "Come here. Everything will be fine." He didn''t know what else to say.


    Chaijrild crept closer and together they were warm enough to get some sleep.


    ***


    Arthur dreamed. Home, in his winter cottage, and happy, and his wife beside him. They were strong together, always able to handle whatever life threw at them, and she was beautiful. He accepted his need for her, a need emotional as well as physical, and now it was definitely physical. His desire grew strong. He held her close, moving with her, caressing her to wake her passion as well. He rolled on top of her and pulled down his trousers. She smelled so good, so close. His need grew. When he felt her feet on his back he pushed forward and down. They moved together, rhythmically. He looked down and met her eyes, Chaijrild''s eyes, not his wife''s, but desire was too strong and he continued moving inside her until he was spent with release.


    Arthur lowered himself, resting on his elbows. Too long, it had been too long since he''d been with a woman. Woman? The girl wasn''t even half his age. At the moment it didn''t matter, and he was content lying on top of her, still inside, listening to her breathing in his ear.


    She was still hugging him close to her when he tried to roll over, afraid he was too heavy on the thin layer of damp straw. She rolled with him, apparently not satisfied yet, and with but a small pang of shame he lay with her again. It had truly been far too long since he last lay with a woman, and his needs were greater than his conscience.


    I''ll regret this, but not now. Once again he drifted into sleep, this time curled up in an embrace as if he was afraid of letting go.


    Waking up was an embarrassment for them both. Arthur felt relaxed in a way he hadn''t in years, but as revelation of what he had done washed over him shame filled him as well. He could see Chaijrild''s eyes mirroring what he felt and turned away. Gods! What a thing to do. He could as well have raped her. Forcing himself on a sleeping child. What had he been thinking?


    Not thinking at all, Arthur admitted sourly to himself.


    "It took long enough for you to couple," Gring said suddenly, and when he looked at her he could swear he saw amusement in her eyes.


    Arthur blushed violently, sharing the sudden coloring with Chaijrild. If Gring wanted them to feel warm she''d succeeded all too well.


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    "You heard?" Chaijrild gasped.


    "How could I not? You skinless are not silent like decent humans."


    Arthur knew he must be blushing enough for the red to show through the dirt in his face, and embarrassment competed with shame. No matter which feeling would win out in the end it was an internal struggle he was sure to lose.


    "I didn''t know she was in season," Gring continued unabashed. "She didn''t smell as if in heat."


    "Stop!" Chaijrild cried out.


    Arthur cringed at her outburst, but silently he shared her sentiment.


    "Honestly, I didn''t." Gring persisted. "I''m very surprised. I usually never fail to smell when a female is ready for mating. Very odd."


    Arthur glared at her with embarrassment slowly mixing with surprise. "Please, no more. We hum... halfmen don''t have mating periods," he added as an explanation when he saw she was on the verge of saying something more.


    Gring gave him a nonplussed look but kept her silence to his relief


    ***


    They were fetched some time after that. How long after, Arthur didn''t know. He''d been drifting in and out of sleep and he was no longer certain if days or hours had passed. Guards led them down the stairs they had climbed when they were brought here and then Arthur found himself in a hall that at first reminded him of an ancient cathedral. Columns of stone soared into the air supporting a roof impossibly high above them. The pillars should have been crushed under their own weight alone, but Arthur had seen impossibilities in Verd before. This was another place built with magic.


    Magic, always magic instead of engineering. He wondered which was most efficient. Memories of roads and towns outside of Keen made him decide in favor of engineering. He didn''t care if he was unfair. Hell, he wasn''t bloody obliged to care. He was hungry and afraid, and being transported from place to place without a single word of explanation made him angry as well.


    Arthur didn''t even know why they were being held prisoners. Well, that wasn''t really true, but they hadn''t been told the real reason. Unless of course Gring wasn''t some kind of traitor to the Khraga, but Arthur was more and more certain that the one named Kharg played a game of his own.


    They were led across the grand hall, and as they walked it opened up even wider at the far end. Someone waited for them there, someone who looked human. They were still too far away for Arthur to see any distinct features. He grinned. Maybe now they would meet someone sensible. At least they''d get to know why they were here. Knowledge was one form of comfort, small as it may be, but Arthur desperately grasped for anything making their situation look a little brighter. He knew he was clinging to straws of hope, but he didn''t care any longer.


    The march over the floor lasted for an eternity, or so his tired legs tried to tell him as he sluggishly forced himself forward. He was so very tired, and now he slowly felt the last remains of dignity slipping away. Maybe that was what their captors had wanted all along. He was soon brought out of his indifference though. Struggling forward like an automaton he caught sight of the face watching them. Arthur stopped dead in shock. The man had yellow eyes like a cat, and there were lines in his face, silvery, like spider webbing, and strangely inhuman.


    He bowed and spoke. "My name is Vailinin ad Rhigrat. I am a truth seer and a judge."


    "I am Gring ghara Khat and I would know why we have been brought here." Gring took up position beside Arthur.


    "You will, as will the one you follow and the other following him."


    "He is Arthur Wallman, halfman taleweaver, and he''s been treated dishonorably by Kharg dhara Braugdi, our captor."


    Vailinin shot Kharg a quizzical look. "Is that so?"


    "That''s what she claims. I say the oath breaker is a mage and a trickster who''s blinded her with his lies."


    "You know that is not so. He Wove when you were present," Gring bristled, defiance radiating from her like an extra layer of donned armor.


    "He played some pretty tricks, yes, but I don''t know that he did indeed Weave," Kharg shot back.


    "Have you no honor? You know that''s not true."


    "Interesting and disturbing. A lying Khraga. I didn''t think that was possible," Vailinin interrupted.


    Hell, does he never show an expression? He''s not human, that''s for certain.


    "Kharg is the dishonorable one," Gring spat.


    "That is beyond my knowledge. What I do know, however, is that you, Gring ghara Khat, is a renegade and a traitor," Vailinin responded.


    Gring took a step forward as if to attack, but at the last moment she restrained herself. "I am not."


    "But you are. Mindwalker, search your own mind for once. Use the powers given to you on yourself and you will find that what I say is true."


    Uncertainty spread over her face, and in the end something that could only be a mixture of shock and despair.


    "But he''s a taleweaver. They are sacred to us. There can be nothing wrong in protecting one."


    "Whether he is a taleweaver or not remains to be seen. Kharg claims he is not and you that he is. That is irrelevant though. If he is, you are right in what you say, but you are not merely protecting him."


    "In order to protect him I had to..."


    "No, you chose to. For a different reason as well. You had no right to follow him. He is not of us but of Keen, our shared enemy, no matter where he originally comes from."


    Gring lowered her head in shame when Vailinin finished. There was no doubt whatever the yellow-eyed man had said somehow rang true to her. Arthur couldn''t let it pass.


    He coughed loudly to get the attention of all present. "If you excuse, but I''m not from Keen. I''m a visitor there as well as I am here."


    "That is not true. Here you are a prisoner, not a visitor. As for Keen you ceased being a visitor when you decided to embark upon this journey of yours. If you search yourself do you not admit that returning to the world you claim as your own hasn''t been of great importance to you."


    Arthur could feel those eyes seeing straight through him.


    "The caravan is a matter of importance to Keen, and your involvement in it makes you a matter of importance to Keen as well. Do you deny that?" Vailinin continued.


    Arthur was silent. Technically Vailinin was right. Damn it, more than technically Arthur admitted to himself. He could hardly deny he understood there would have been no caravan at all if it hadn''t been for his gold.


    "My interest is economical. I''m an investor," he offered.


    Vailinin smiled. "Now that is false as well as true. You may be an investor, but you have no interest at all in the money. Isn''t that so?"


    Arthur bit back a heated retort, but he realized there was no keeping the truth from the man he faced. It wasn''t as if he knew what Arthur was thinking, only if what he said was true or not.


    "My reasons are still personal. I don''t care for Keen," Arthur sulked.


    "That is true, but personal or not your reasons for your deeds don''t make those deeds less a part of what Keen wants, and that makes you one of Keen. At least for now."


    Arthur shivered involuntarily. A bloody politician who knew what he was talking about. This man was dangerous. Not in the way Kharg was. The Khraga was muscles, but this one was brains only. At least Arthur hoped it was brains only. Anything else would be too much.


    "I''m a taleweaver though," he protested sullenly.


    "Now, that is true."


    Kharg protested, but Vailinin silenced him with an angry glare.


    Vailinin turned his attention to Gring. "The punishment for treason is death, but as you never intended treachery you will not be stripped of honor."


    "I thank you for your mercy," Gring answered, head still hanging in shame.


    Arthur couldn''t believe what he was hearing, but as he was about to cry out a protest Vailinin continued as if he had never noted Arthur''s outrage. "As for you two things are more delicate. The woman is of little concern and will suffer the same fate as Gring, but you pose a problem."


    Chaijrild sobbed loudly at the death sentence but Vailinin continued mercilessly. "No one may lay hands on a taleweaver," Arthur could hear Kharg growl in protest. "but it''s Gring who''s been proved a traitor, and thus I am forced to rule that she is the liar," Vailinin continued.


    "I said so!" Kharg exclaimed jubilantly.


    Vailinin whirled, rage streaming from his face like an icy wind. "Silence you dirty creature! Something foul covers your entire being. Nothing but great danger can come from threatening the taleweaver, and you know that as well as I do. He speaks the truth when he claims to be what he is, and yet the scent of rottenness that covers you prevents me from putting the lie to your filthy words!"


    Kharg didn''t answer. He radiated triumph. He wouldn''t take any chances now when he had got what he wanted.


    Gring spoke, and suddenly Arthur no longer understood what she said. He cursed inwardly, but there was no way he could force her to use her powers. He could only stand there and listen to an argument concerning him. Frustration at not knowing what it was about filled him until he forgot the graveness of their situation.


    "If you talk about me you bloody well let me in on it!" he yelled.


    It was like shouting at a wall, and Vailinin, Kharg and Gring continued their own shouting match as if he didn''t even exist.


    Eventually Gring fell silent with a grin that could almost have been a smug smile, and they were led away. Behind them Vailinin and Kharg continued shouting at each other. There was a feeling of finality to it, especially as Gring had withdrawn her magic during the end of the yelling. Maybe she was trying to spare him, or maybe it was for the benefit of Chaijrild. Arthur guessed the latter.


    He could hear loud shouts in the distance, as if people were cheering. It was getting warmer as well. Unasked, visions of Earth came to his mind. A darker Earth, over a thousand years ago, when cruelty was still a tool in the hands of rulers. They had feared magic then, and hunted practitioners of the art. Witch hunts and fires. Somehow he knew he wasn''t to die, but thoughts of watching Gring and Chaijrild in flames was almost worse than the prospect of sharing their fate.

 Intermezzo

    Erwin Radovic waited in the grand reception room. He had been sitting for a while, looking at the marvelous artwork displayed.


    Long days had passed since his arrival, most spent walking the streets of the capital. The city was far larger than he expected, and no surveillance reports could change that. Running water and central heating made him reevaluate the ability of the people living on Otherworld, but then Verd was supposed to be an exception. Exception or not, the mere existence of the city proved what could be done, even if the inhabitants here had chosen not to repeat the wonder elsewhere.


    Erwin leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. They were finally coming to an understanding where the Terran Federation would be allowed to drastically expand the capacity of the launch port in exchange for some military help, and the offer was too good to be discarded. Besides, Clayton had put him in this mess. Clayton could bloody well clean it up afterwards if he didn''t like the deals Erwin struck here.


    One of the first meetings with the local officials had resulted in couriers being sent in search of the assault group Heinrich Goldberger commanded. They were apparently needed elsewhere, and at least that need was one Erwin fully supported. He wouldn''t go home without handling Christina Ulfsdotir''s insane rampage with hired thugs in some kind of vendetta aimed at Arthur Wallman.


    Now the locals had promised to transport the entire assault group by means they wanted to keep secret, and today''s meeting would handle the extraction procedure.


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    More details, but details Erwin was content to discuss. There was very little he could do now, but the prospect of launching several shuttles per day within a few years was worth his playing at being a diplomat. Earth desperately needed a lively relationship with Otherworld. The actual trade was of little worth, but Otherworld presented something of much higher value.


    Surveys during the eleven years Theta 47 had been an orbital station revealed what he''d suspected all along, and now they were sending probes through the multitude of gates present in Otherworld space. Two of those probes had entered other solar systems with planets habitable. None Earth-like, but with decent gravity. Atmospheres not too corrosive combined with temperatures well within those on Earth. Interstellar travel was a dream come true after all, even if in a way no one could possibly have foreseen.


    Colonists and traders would need a resort midway through their journeys, and Otherworld was perfectly suited. Close enough, Earth like, and with a magic of its own that would attract millions of humans. An attraction enough to make people strike out as pioneers once again.


    Who knew? Sometime in the future the trade might become worthwhile in itself, but that was a future generation or more away, and Erwin concentrated on matters closer at hand.

 Chapter fifteen, Lovers, part one

    Harbend recalled staring at Trai''s ruined body. The fire mage was still alive. Harbend knew, somewhere deep inside he ought to feel elated, but there was only an empty void. Trai should have been dead now, but Neritan had used her powers, and now she looked lifeless as well. Harbend shivered at the thought of any wound severe enough to force a Magehealer into unconsciousness.


    Someone had to bring help, and he should be that someone. This was when he needed to be strong, but that emptiness held him hostage. Right now he wanted someone else to take command.


    Harbend forced himself to take a step forward. The snow was darker now from days of feet trampling it. The caravan must have waited for them. He wondered if they were worried. What a strange thought.


    Of course they are not. They believe I''ve brought Arthur back. I should have. It was my responsibility.


    There was another problem he had brought upon them. While they were searching for Arthur the caravan wasn''t moving, and even with the help of the escort sending out more hunting parties supplies were getting strained. A few more days and complaints would spread rampant as food had to be rationed.


    He crossed the dirty snow in search of his own wagon. Maybe he''d be able to change his clothes without causing another disaster. He found his wagon as he had left it. It was all too orderly to offer any substantial amount of diversion for him, and he was soon standing on the ground again knowing he had to return to the accusing looks.


    This was, as his father would have said, what happened if you didn''t lead a proper life, and Harbend knew his had been all but proper. Then the memory of his meeting with Uncle Ramdar nudged at him, and Harbend admitted that at least the head of their family had decided this was indeed his proper path. Small comfort right now and here.


    Unable to delay the inevitable questions he and left. He had brought them to this. Now he would have to take responsibility for it. Somewhat strengthened in his resolve he went to find Trai. The wounded first. Questions could wait until later. Trai ought to be among the magehealers, and Neritan with him.


    Harbend found his horse and saddled it. Without Escha he needed to ride all the way to the circle of wagons were the mages from Ri Khi camped together.


    Mind still full of his own failure Harbend arrived at one of the rearmost circles and dismounted. He walked the last bit with leaden steps, and when he climbed the wagon shown to him by a young, black haired groom Harbend didn''t know what to say.


    The scene did nothing to dispel his dark thoughts. Escha crying, despair seeping through the Khar. Nothing left of the mighty mage but a frightened child.


    I have never seen him like this.


    Harbend wanted to comfort Escha, but how? Harbend looked down at the prone body. A miracle Trai was still alive. Harbend couldn''t understand how anyone had been able to gather such a mass of scars, but memories of the burning Khar more than hinted at the reason.


    Neritan had yet to awake, but at least she had been joined by another Magehealer.


    Harbend wondered briefly what kind of people Arthur had managed to surround himself with during their short stay at the Roadhouse. Mages, all three of them, and powerful ones as well. Still, Trai''s body told the telltale signs that power didn''t always come with invincibility.


    "How is he?" Harbend asked.


    "He will survive. Magehealer Hwain is very powerful. None of us could have done what she did."


    Harbend studied the woman who had answered his question. A Magehealer, and one he didn''t know by name. That added to his discomfort as well. He should have known. Apart from Neritan they were only three, and any mage who dedicated her life to the healing of others at the cost of her own pain had the right to command more respect than to remain a nameless resource.


    He''d become his profession and lost some of his humanity in the trade. Was it too late to revert that transition? He searched his surroundings to distract his thoughts. Magehealers didn''t crowd their wagons with goods the way other traders did, and they weren''t supposed to. Most of their earnings were made during the journeys they embarked upon for different reasons, and the caravan was no exception.


    Despite this Harbend could make out crates obviously meant for trade, and even though he couldn''t be certain he guessed their contents to be dried herbs unusual or nonexistent in Braka. magehealers were a kind of their own, and Harbend assumed the exchange would be on an herb for herb basis rather than money. As healers they were certain to want more items for their profession than any amount of wealth. Healing people wasn''t a career anyone chose for becoming rich, and he couldn''t imagine a more uncomfortable way to make a living. From what he''d learned they didn''t really heal their patients. Rather they gradually transferred whatever had befallen the one in need to themselves and then sped up their own healing process. No wonder they preferred herbs in cases not requiring such a ghastly treatment.


    Beds and stretchers lined the wagon, and one of the former was occupied by a woman who must have had some kind of serious mishap during their travels. He didn''t know of what kind, and he didn''t care to ask.


    Then, all of a sudden, Neritan rose as did Trai.


    "That was, ah, unpleasant," she said.


    "What... where am I?" Trai murmured, unsuccessfully trying to raise his arms.


    "I have sedated him. We''d better explain where we are before he tries to attack anyone. He still believes us where he went unconscious," Neritan explained when Escha gave her a worried look.


    "Trai, we are safe. You are with the caravan." Harbend felt strangely compelled to be the one who came with the reassurance. He smiled weakly at the mage and turned to Escha. "I will leave you two alone now. You can call upon me at any time you wish."


    Receiving a grateful look he didn''t think he deserved Harbend left the wagon and climbed out into the wintry cold. Rather the cold of outside than the one freezing his heart. He put one foot in front of the other with a determination sprung from desperation and headed away from the circle of wagons.


    Alone, he needed to be alone with the snow and the sky. Maybe there was redemption, but he would have to find it for himself. If it existed he didn''t know, and if it did he was even less certain he deserved it.


    It was late afternoon but still light enough for him to see the tracks from wagons driven to form the circle. He struggled further away until he had to trample unbroken snow beneath him and no longer saw any of the wagons. The pillar of smoke was still visible behind him though. Harbend knew it would be night and morning again before he could walk far enough not to see it any longer. This had to do. He was alone enough to be able to contemplate his deeds and decisions, and he slowly walked aimlessly with his misgivings and the sound of snow breaking under his feet as his only companions.


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    ***


    "How did you do it?" Escha''s voice was hoarse with fatigue born of fear.


    "I transferred his wounds. He should be fine. Better than before as I didn''t bother to sort out which scars fresh enough to heal he had received from previous mishaps," Neritan answered.


    "Those were burn wounds. The pain should prevent you from concentrating enough to use the gift." Escha shifted uneasily on his seat.


    "Let me make one thing clear," Neritan said, her voice taking on a sharp edge. "You may think yourself to be the greatest Transport Khar in living memory, and as far as you short lived ones go it may very well be that you''re correct, but I''ve met mages with powers you couldn''t imagine." Neritan gave him a tired smile while she gathered up hair that had become tangled during her healing sleep. "I may not be the greatest Magehealer living, but I still have few peers. It wasn''t easy. If I hadn''t been here he''d be dead now."


    "You risked killing yourself?"


    "Don''t be stupid. If there had been any risk to my life I would have let him die. I''m far too valuable to my people to die for one of you, unless you''re a taleweaver, like the one two anointed Khars and hundreds of soldiers managed to misplace."


    Escha stared at her. There was a coldness in her scaring him, and now he knew why some of the golden mages were thought of as arrogant. They were rumored to consider themselves peerless, and now he had seen that rumor come true.


    The finest of the magehealers were to be found in Khi, but he knew she hadn''t thought of any of them when she referred to her peers. All golden mages were associated with either the tower in Kastari or the one in Gaz. The tower of Khars in Khanati were only occasionally visited by one of them.


    "I thank you nonetheless, Khar Hwain," Escha said at last, uncertain if it was the correct title or not.


    "As you should do."


    Escha decided against saying anything in response. Instead he turned his attention to Trai who still looked disorientated. His face did indeed show fewer scars than before. There was love there as well, and relief. Escha forgot where he was and who were there with them. With desperation pushing away all sense of proper behavior he went to his knees and hugged Trai to himself afraid to ever let go.


    Too close, he''d been too close to losing the only one who really mattered, but for now everything was good and life smiled upon the two of them again. The shock, and anger, Escha knew, would come later.


    "I''ll never understand your kind," Neritan said as she rose to leave. "There are beautiful women enough in Khanati for the both of you. Well..." She shook her head and climbed out of the wagon, the other magehealers following her.


    ***


    Harbend bowed as Neritan entered. "What is the reason for your presence this late?"


    She bowed in return, more of a nod than a bow, but at least a token admittance that she was a guest in his private quarters, as private as they could be in a simple wagon.


    "I would have your help in locating the taleweaver," she said after she''d seated herself on a chest.


    "Of course, even though I fail to see how I can be of any help to you."


    "You know the man better than anyone else here. I''ve already got a picture of where he must be, but I need to know how his mind is working to know more exactly."


    Harbend frowned. Did he really know that much of the man he considered a friend? "I will try to help, but I cannot promise it will be enough."


    "I believe that I''ll be the one to decide if your help is enough or not. Your promises are of little concern to me." She displayed an air of self-confidence he hadn''t expected, but then who knew what to expect from one of the golden?


    Harbend looked away, knowing his eyes would have shown a sour enmity had she seen them.


    "Your view of me is of little concern as well. I need your help, not your approval," Neritan said as if she had read his mind. Gods! She probably had.


    "What do you want me to do?" he said, more to let words fly than wanting any answer to his question.


    "I want you to sit still and keep your mouth shut. Your insignificant ranting disturbs me, and I need to be concentrated for what I have in mind."


    "Listen here, madam, I am not..."


    "Silence, I said. Think of a good trade or something else your limited mind is capable of grasping. I don''t have time for the shortsighted wantonness of your kind."


    Harbend wanted to lash out at her in any way possible at that time, but recognition of his failures intervened, and he did as told.


    They spent a long time in silence. He didn''t know how long, and afterwards there was nothing but dreams and vague memories telling him it had ever happened. What he did know, memories or not, was that the golden mage knew more of his secrets than maybe he himself did after they were done. Altogether it was an experience he didn''t care much to have repeated.


    "Find the others! You can tell them where we go now," Neritan said when she was finally done, and with those words she left without devoting a single moment of explanation to him.


    Harbend felt drained, but eventually he did her bidding and rode in search of Nakora, Escha and Trai.


    ***


    "I think I know where they are," Harbend said. "We are needed again."


    Escha threw him a look, turned to Trai and they shared a glance before nodding. That only left Nakora. Harbend almost didn''t dare to meet her eyes.


    "Well, are you going to ask me or not?"


    He did.


    She hugged him in response. That was a welcome surprise. A warm surprise for a frozen heart.


    "We trust you. I trust you," Nakora whispered.


    Her words were balm to his mind. Harbend found strength in that trust.


    "Escha, we are ready when you are," he croaked.


    "Then, Lord Garak, we jump."

 Chapter fifteen, Lovers, part two

    Only two of them, and Harbend didn''t even know where they were. He didn''t mind his company, but separating like this could be nothing but stupid. Harbend didn''t like it, but Neritan was adamant, and eventually he had agreed. Trai and Escha would accompany her so at least she wouldn''t be defenseless. When Escha had jumped the three of them away Harbend shrugged and gave Nakora an uncomfortable look.


    "So, what happens now?" he asked.


    "We wait a while and then I guess we start walking."


    "Where to?"


    "Lord Garak, you are in the lead. I think you should make that decision."


    "In the lead. A leader should inspire trust in his followers," he added moodily.


    "And you do not?"


    "How could I know any longer? Who would care?"


    "I would."


    Harbend looked at Nakora in surprise. "Why?"


    "For the same reason you care about me," she answered, her voice suddenly very small.


    Harbend felt a punch in his stomach, a very pleasant punch. "Truly?"


    "I hope so."


    You have beautiful eyes. Did you know that? She really was a fine woman. Fine woman! What kind of expression is that? She is wonderful! He dared himself to pull her into an embrace. They stood there for a long time hugging each other with a fierceness born out of desperation, but he felt only relief, and joy. He caressed the back of her neck, allowing his hands to explore the wonderful softness of her hair. It smelled so good. He laughed at himself knowing she probably smelled of sweat and long days without washing to anyone but him. He didn''t care. There were only the two of them, and he wanted the feeling to last a bit longer. They remained in each other''s arms until the stinging wind reminded them it was too cold to stay unmoving outdoors.


    Harbend didn''t want to let her go, but they were here for a reason. He suspected he wouldn''t be able to bring them along for another dangerous search in unknown territory so they needed to act in a timely way. Slowly they walked towards the darkness ahead of them. That had to be the place. There was nothing else emitting such a feeling of despair, and once more Harbend wondered what kind of trouble Arthur had gotten himself into.


    Harbend was happy to have Nakora at his side. She seemed to be able to dispel the constructed darkness ahead of them, or at least lessen his fears of it. Peculiar to rely on someone else, even if he didn''t say it aloud, but admitting something that unfamiliar to anyone else would take time, a lot of time.


    He broke snow beneath his feet as he struggled ahead. One good sign if nothing else. They had to be the first to take this route, at least since the last snowfall, whenever that had been. Behind him Nakora followed in his steps, and her presence was more than just reassuring. Whatever befell them they would face it together. Harbend knew the giddying elation to be foolish, but he didn''t care.


    They hadn''t walked for long before the darkness surrounded them and soon after Harbend noted that it wasn''t as absolute as he''d first believed. There were shadowy shapes visible in the distance, and as he turned around he could see a white curtain of light from where they had come. It was like walking around in a cloudy night, and but for the border to daylight he could have thought himself having overslept an entire day.


    The oppression, though, was nothing he''d experienced earlier. Whatever magic caused the night here also carried a sinister addition, and Harbend doubted he''d be able to carry on alone. The wind was gone as well, and so they trudged on in an eerie silence bringing a different kind of fear to him as he could imagine what kind of sounds he ought to have heard.


    A while later he felt rather than saw planted lines of trees. Apples or pears, he wasn''t sure which, but the presence of something as ordinary as an orchard calmed him somewhat. The darkness must be something temporary then.


    They had almost made it all the way through the orchard when Neritan suddenly appeared together with Trai and Escha. Harbend didn''t need to ask by what means. Escha''s smug smile was broad enough to be seen even in the darkness surrounding them. A sense of reassurance covered Harbend, and for once he was happy to be the target of whatever magic Neritan used.


    "They are in the main building," she said.


    Harbend squinted but couldn''t make out any features revealing anything like a building.


    "You''ll see when we get there," she answered his unasked question.


    He shot an irritated glance her way but refrained from saying anything.


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    They moved closer to wherever Neritan wanted them to go and before long a building appeared before them. At first he couldn''t believe what he saw. There had been nothing telling him they were nearing a town, and now a castle soared up into the darkness far beyond his reach of sight.


    "Almost like one of the towers," Neritan whispered beside him.


    Harbend turned. "The towers of learning?"


    "Yes, but this is not one of them. I would know."


    Harbend didn''t ask how. He merely forced his way over the thin layer of snow hoping his feet wouldn''t get tangled by something on the ground. It wasn''t right. The snow should have glistered white even in the night, but then this was hardly a natural darkness.


    "Mage Trai, could you make us see our way here?" he asked wistfully.


    "Of course, Lord Garak. A simple spell that will keep us warm as well."


    "No lights, you fools!" Neritan hissed behind them. Nakora added a sigh of relief at the intervention.


    "Why not?" he asked at the same moment he understood how stupid his question was.


    "Why don''t we all start singing as well. We wouldn''t want any blind guards to fail noticing our coming, would we?"


    "Sorry, I didn''t think."


    "That, Master Garak, hardly needs any confirmation."


    Harbend groaned in response and returned to fumbling his way to the building. A fine example of a leader he was. But there is something in the air, something sinister, bringing out the fool in me.


    The ground was slippery under his feet and hands as he crawled on, but he didn''t dare walk here. The temperature had risen slightly and he was sure to slip and fall should he risk standing.


    As they came closer he could see narrow windows letting out light, and at least a few of the lower lights had to be entrances. Now he only needed to pick one of them so they could go inside.


    Then what?


    "Where to?" he asked Nakora.


    She was silent.


    "Just go on. I''ll tell you when we''re close enough," Neritan answered instead.


    He did as bidden, and a while later she asked him to turn right, and not long after that he found himself watching wide stairs climbing to a grand pair of doors. They were wide open, yellow light streaming out giving life to the stairs and a narrow strip of ground below them. The opening beckoned to him. A light promising refuge from the chilling darkness surrounding them, and he almost ran for it without thinking.


    "No! Please be careful this time!" Nakora''s voice held him back.


    What did he think he was doing?


    "Mistress Hwain, is he in there?" Once again Nakora using her mind before they headed further into the unknown.


    "Yes, and he''s close enough that I can keep track of him as long as he isn''t jumped from here."


    "I can lead if you give me directions, or can you sense him and yourself at the same time?"


    Neritan''s teeth showed white in a surprised grin. "You are a quick one, aren''t you, Captain Weinak?"


    "I was just guessing," Nakora answered with a mixture of embarrassment and pride in her voice. "I always send out my scouts in pairs if we are close to our target."


    "Good for them," Neritan muttered, and Harbend could hear her laughing under her breath. Some joke the two women shared although he couldn''t understand how they had had time to get to know each other well enough for that. Women! he thought grimly. They were a kind apart. Gring, Arthur''s hairy companion, probably hid most of her strangeness in her womanhood rather than in her being Khraga.


    "After you then," Neritan said.


    "As long as you lead," Nakora answered.


    "Of course. As long as we lead we should be able to find Arthur and our own feet at the same time."


    Golden mage and beautiful captain started forward as one, and Harbend could swear he heard them giggling in unison.

 Intermezzo

    Something stirred. Something ancient and foul. It didn''t know anything of the concept of foulness though, only that it needed to feed, and there had been many lives spent to the north and all that death made it hungry. It would send someone to gather the leftovers always to be found when many died together. If it had known the ways of the living it would have called those leftovers residual emotions, ghosts or even lost souls, but it didn''t and it was content with the devouring.


    It hadn''t fed well for some time now. Almost thirty years earlier, and it did know what a year was, there had been a feast to the southeast. It had been good, and even though it wasn''t truly familiar with the concept of battle it was learning. The deaths to the north were of the same kind, but this time at lot of the dying had happened in the great water it somehow grasped was the sea.


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    That was well. It would be easier for its minion to gather what was needed without being noticed. Being noticed was bad, especially when some of the prying eyes belonged to the awful dragons. It hated the dragons. They were powerful enough to hurt it, and it was afraid of being hurt.


    There had to be change, and there was some. High above it something new had arrived, something with a power of its own, and maybe the hated enemy would be too occupied with the newcomers to pay much attention to the feeding. Maybe, but it would still be careful.


    It called. Within a season a gatherer would come.

 Chapter sixteen, Escape, part one

    The light blinded him at first when he entered. For a few dizzying moments Harbend was only aware of the sudden pain before his eyes got used to the change. After that he was able to discern differences and saw several sources of light. Great lamps hung from the ceiling and a multitude of smaller ones cast their flickering lights from the walls they were fastened to.


    They were in a large hall with a shining floor made from polished marble, and that stony mirror reflected and magnified glittering candles and the steady, yellow, light from bulbs of glass or crystal.


    Magecrafters had been at work here. That much was certain. Skilled ones at that. Translucent statues slowly moved in eternal dance, almost lifelike. The beauty stunned him, and the ever-present trader in him struggled to value what he saw. He knew he really shouldn''t translate art into gold when he could simply enjoy it, but he''d spent too many years trading to avoid it.


    Harbend briefly wondered if he was so far gone he would eventually try to set a fixed price to Nakora and the repulsion following the thought was greater than his fear of being here. He gave her a guilty look and was grateful she couldn''t read his mind.


    Startled Harbend looked at Neritan, but she only gave him a strangely amused stare and shook her head.


    I won''t tell. I''m not that cruel. The words were inside his head, and he knew she''d spoken silently to him. He sighed. The Mindwalker showed some integrity at least.


    With a feeling of unease Harbend crossed the hall. He fought the urge to draw his weapon. Better to appear as inconspicuous as possible if they should meet anyone.


    Movements at the far end of the hall caught his attention. At first he thought he saw more of the beautiful statues, but then he realized they were men in white robes.


    Are we to fight our way in here? Harbend thought in dismay.


    He hoped not. He tried walking through the hall as if he had every right to be there with the others trailing him. It was of course not to be. He never knew what gave them away, but one of the robed men cried out in alarm and pointed at them.


    Nakora broke stride behind Harbend and ran for the closest exit while Neritan used her powers, and the men facing them started walking aimlessly around the hall, sometimes bumping into each other.


    Harbend caught up with Nakora and he heard Trai or Escha breathing hard behind him. This time, it seemed, they would stay together.


    They came out in another hall, a smaller one this time, but no matter how much Harbend had hoped for it to be empty he was soon disappointed. They sprinted across the floor. Bad, very bad. The castle was too well guarded. They could as well have sprung a trap around themselves, even though somewhere in his mind knowledge lingered telling him that their presence hadn''t been known to those living here beforehand.


    Nakora, help me!


    She was the expert in matters like these, but she seemed to be following him into the madness rather than taking the lead, and he had no idea of what he was getting them into. He chose a corridor at random.


    Then a sound surprised him. Singing in the distance. Well, why not? Whoever lived here apparently appreciated art. It didn''t matter much to him though. They didn''t have time to admire whatever beauty was to be found here any longer.


    "Nakora, where to?"


    "To the singing," Neritan answered instead. "That''s a ritual beginning, and I think it involves those we search for."


    Harbend looked for confirmation in Nakora, and when she nodded he took to his feet again. There were no grand halls here, not even small rooms to pass through, only endless corridors with doors lining their sides, all of which had no other exit apart from their windows. Harbend had tried a few of them just to be certain.


    They continued running. Rounding a corner Harbend skidded into an armored man. They both fell to the ground. Before Harbend had time to realize what had happened Nakora ran the soldier through with her sword. After that there was only chaos.


    ***


    Angry yells and the sound of fighting disturbed the sinister procession. To Arthur the disturbance was all too welcome. Members of their escort broke away to meet whatever was attacking the castle, but to his dismay most of the armed men kept their discipline and stayed close.


    Arthur swore between gritted teeth. There had to be a way. He searched for the source of the sound of fighting, but it had to be in another part of the castle. It did, however, sound like it was coming closer.


    "What''s happening?" Chaijrild asked.


    A glimmer of hope glistened in her eyes. So, she''d come to the same conclusion. Good, then she would at least be a little bit prepared if a chance to escape materialized.


    "I don''t know. Better than waiting."


    "Should we run?"


    Arthur gave their guards a worried look, but it didn''t seem any of them understood what they were saying. He looked at Gring and was met by what had to be a smile. She must have changed something with the magic that allowed him to speak with people no matter what languages they knew.


    "Not now," Arthur said turning to Chaijrild again. "Just be ready to follow me later." If there is a later.


    He couldn''t afford to trash her hopes at this moment. She needed to believe.


    Sudden pain of hunger knifed him. A good sign. If he was able to ache for food again he might be able to act as well. Too much time spent in apathy. It was more painful to feel afraid, but with pain came the urge to stay alive. He started to search for opportunities. Nothing.


    Something itched at his armpit and he scratched it.


    My gun? No, they took it.


    He thought of bringing out his wallet to bribe his captors, but they probably didn''t take federation money here. The absurdity of the thought brought a crooked smile to his lips while he fingered his waist pocket -- and then it hit him.


    Bloody hell, that''s not my wallet!


    He groped under his jacket. He still had his gun. How? He was certain they''d been disarmed, but he admitted his memories of the last days weren''t all too clear.


    There should still be a few rounds left. Armed with artificial self confidence Arthur staggered along with the procession waiting for the first moment to add to the confusion he now clearly could hear was coming closer.


    ***


    Between them Nakora and Trai made short work of the soldiers they ran into. After that the wild rush through the corridors continued. Three times they met armed men, and three times Trai and Nakora displayed their deadly skills with fire and steel. Then the corridor opened up ahead of them.


    Harbend didn''t even bother with peering out into whatever room or hall they were entering. Nothing could have prevented anyone there from hearing their approach.


    He ran out into a long hallway. Threw himself flat on the floor to avoid being cut down by men coming their way. He rolled.


    Arthur! Gods!


    Finally they had managed to come to the right place.


    "Trai, archers to your left!" Nakora''s voice cut through the noise.


    A red, hissing inferno raced away. Battle cries of men running to meet them in combat turned to screams of fear and pain.


    A man in bone white robes faced him. Harbend slashed wildly with his sword. Killing was not as important as to make room now. The man fell. If struck or not Harbend didn''t know. It didn''t matter. He continued towards Arthur.


    "Arthur! Run you whore son!"


    Chaijrild struggled with one of the robed men. Arthur wheeled low on his feet and kicked the legs out from under the closest guard before throwing another to the floor. In a few moments the outworlder had managed to free Chaijrild and ran to Harbend with the girl in tow.


    Gring didn''t struggle with her guards. She tore them apart limb by limb.


    Gods! Mother slaughtered chicken like that!


    Arthur managed to cover the distance to him. Then robe after robe went up in flames. Trai had put his powers to a ghastly test.


    Suddenly Arthur staggered and almost fell. He caught his balance and limped all the way to Harbend, Chaijrild still in tow. An arrow stuck out from Arthur''s lower leg.


    Arthur came to his knees. Suddenly, accompanied by short roars of death, men dropped with blood spurting from exploding torsos. With hands clasped to his ears in a vain attempt to shut out the awful sound Harbend recognized the disgusting device Arthur had used in the mountain pass.


    Resolve wavering the guards fled. Harbend, sick with the killing, could only watch helplessly as Trai threw long coils of fire consuming anyone caught.


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    "Arthur, we should go. Follow Neritan."


    "Not bloody going anywhere without Gring!"


    "Gods! Take the girl and follow Neritan! We shall get Gring for you."


    To Harbend''s relief Arthur did as told, and Harbend could concentrate on making good on his promise. He followed Nakora and Trai in pursuit of their enemies.


    "Help Gring and get out!" he shouted, but they only continued running.


    Striding over the battleground he caught sight of the Khraga. She was breaking the back of a man in leather armor and seemed oblivious to what was happening around her. Harbend looked for more dangers, but they were alone, if he didn''t count the broken bodies littering the floor.


    "Come back! I have her." No answer. "Gring, Gring!"


    At last the Khraga had the sense to listen. She looked down at him, took a few step, and for a moment Harbend was afraid she''d mistaken him for yet another target. Panic rising in him he wondered what it would feel like having his bones crushed by her immense muscles. She stopped.


    "Where is Arthur?" she asked.


    He wouldn''t die, not now at least. "Neritan, a friend, is helping him and the girl, eh, Chaijrild out of here."


    "Where?"


    Harbend pointed at the corridor from which they had come. "Protect them."


    "I will." Gring strode away.


    Harbend stared after her. How appropriate. The only one who followed his orders without questioning them was the hairy death machine. He shook his head in bewilderment and shrugged.


    Escha came up to his side.


    "Now we find Nakora and Trai and then we return," Harbend said.


    Escha gave him a nonplussed stare in return. Harbend started to explain and stopped himself. Gods! Without a Mindwalker when he desperately needed to be understood.


    "Fetch our partners?" Escha asked in Veric.


    Harbend sighed with relief. "Always a pleasure to work with educated men."


    Escha grinned and they started in the direction Nakora and Trai had taken earlier.


    How come that lost in the middle of an enemy stronghold the only thing he could think of was how much he''d come to respect the silent mage at his side. Harbend knew, deep inside himself, he ought to be fearful, but he was strangely reassured. Escha had proved himself time and time over again. Maybe that was it, the knowledge they could be out of harms way in moments should the mage deem is necessary. Harbend frowned at the thought. No, there was more to it. Strange as the men from Khanati were, their loyalty was no less strong than any he had seen in Khi, or Keen for that matter.


    Harbend smiled. When they were out of this he would give the mages the respect they deserved, visibly so. Tradition be damned. Out here, where you could trust nothing more than deeds done, vague promises of optional help at a later time carried little worth.


    He was, Harbend realized, slowly reevaluating which traders back in Keen he would consider friends in the future, and he was glad that there still were those he would call friends when he came back. If he came back.


    Harbend''s line of thought was cut short by approaching steps. Several feet coming closer. Nakora and Trai must have run into trouble.


    Trai suddenly burst into the room. He shouted something Harbend didn''t understand.


    "Shield Khars. Mages reducing magic," Escha explained quickly.


    "Here, Trai. We have them," Harbend shouted.


    Trai didn''t answer. He didn''t move. Strangely still he flashed a stupefied smile. Harbend stared, searching for the reason. A horrible gurgling sound forced his attention from the pursuing Khraga behind Trai. A spear point stuck out from Trai''s neck.


    Gods! When?


    There would be no surviving that.


    So much blood.


    It ran down the arms as the mage desperately clutched his throat in a futile attempt to save himself.


    "Trai!"


    Harbend threw himself flat. The anguished voice behind him carried a threat of death. Never stand in the way of an angry mage, and Escha had to be far beyond mere anger now.


    A wave of power radiated through the hall.


    Are we jumping?


    When he looked up he was still there.


    Roars of disbelief and fear had taken the place of power now. The charging Khraga stood on their knees, bleeding. Harbend looked again and screamed at a sight that would plague his nightmares for the rest of his life. Escha had used his gift to jump after all, but in an awful, horrible way. The warriors charging them weren''t standing on their knees. Most had fallen over now, and there was nothing left below their abdomens, nothing but gaping holes from which blood and intestines flooded the floor. Yells of shock and fear from further away in the castle told Harbend where their lower bodies had gone. He heaved and heaved until there was nothing left to throw up.


    He had to get up. They were far from safe yet. Unsteadily he stood and struggled for balance as if many hours drunk. He turned. Behind him Escha screamed madly, all sense of humanity gone from his eyes. Only the raging fire of an animal in intense pain remained there.


    "Escha, we need you. Please come with me!"


    Escha didn''t answer. Harbend hadn''t expected him to. This would take more than only one try.


    "Escha, please!"


    Still no reaction, only those raging eyes staring in incomprehension at Trai''s body. Maybe this was what Arthur had experienced when he found his family murdered. It didn''t matter. Without Escha they would be caught here, wherever here was.


    "Escha, we must jump!"


    "They have to die! All must die!"


    "Escha! They are too many. If we stay there is no revenge, only us dying."


    "They must die!" There was no reasoning left in the Khar, only a mad hunger for revenge fueled by the loss of a lover.


    "Escha, please!"


    Another surge of power. Parts of the building crumbled around them. Harbend didn''t even have to guess what had happened, and so he just ran to be elsewhere before the roof collapsed over him.


    Legs working on their own accord bore him away from the crumbling room. Harbend was still running when a deafening sound announced that the columns had given way and the roof came crashing down behind him. Harbend never saw the corridors and halls he passed through, and no one opposed his flight as he escaped the collapsing nightmare.


    Then only cold darkness. Harbend staggered out into winter. Temporarily safe he finally had time to turn his worries from his own situation to the others.


    Nakora! Where was she? He swiveled, but there was no one there.


    He recalled then that he''d never caught sight of her. Had she died before they met Trai or was she another victim of Escha''s rage? Harbend sunk to his knees in despair.


    Then a steely resolution paying no heed to the futility of his decision filled him. He had to go back for her.


    He made it through the entrance hall and was about to run into the maze of collapsing corridors when he suddenly heard Nakora''s voice behind him. Harbend turned in surprise.


    "What are you doing?"


    "You were lost, I went in search," Harbend stammered.


    "Idiot! Not alone, will you never learn?"


    Harbend just stared at her. "How?"


    "No questions, come!"


    He followed her out the way he had entered. "How?" he repeated when he was surrounded by darkness once more.


    "A window. Found mage Hwain. We have Escha."


    Harbend still didn''t understand, but he followed Nakora nonetheless.

 Chapter sixteen, Escape, part two

    Watching Harbend running into the horrible, collapsing castle almost unhinged Nakora, but she managed to find enough courage to go in after the fool trader.


    Now she led him to where the others were. The window had been pure good luck. Without it she''d never have known how close to the main entrance they had found Arthur. Climbing down the wall had been easy, and to her relief Neritan had the brains to lead Arthur and the girl out.


    Gring had been there as well. Then the surge of power from inside the castle and Neritan demanding that Gring help her climbing the very walls Nakora had come down. They came back with Escha, and they had done something to him.


    Now they were all gathered close to the orchard.


    Escha spoke, no it was Neritan who spoke through Escha. Nakora looked at him, her. It was unnerving to recognize the golden mage in the body of the dark skinned Transport Mage, and Nakora missed part of what Neritan said.


    "...so strong. Can''t promise I can hold him. We should jump approximately to where the caravan is, but they will know." With the last words Escha, Neritan in Escha''s body, looked at Gring who nodded in response.


    "What is it?" Nakora asked.


    "We were brought here by jump mages. They''ll come after us," Gring said.


    In a flurry of wind the world became nothingness. It was different from when Escha had jumped them earlier, but Nakora knew they were indeed jumping. Away from the nightmare.


    The world was white again. The whiteness of snow and open plains. She could never have guessed that the sight should fill her with such relief. It was almost like coming home, almost.


    She turned, looking for the relative safety of the caravan, but it was nowhere to be seen. Approximately, how close was approximately? The rest of the day? Another days walk? One full day away and the caravan could as well be back home in Ri Khi, at least if Gring was right about pursuers jumping to catch them.


    Harbend stood at her side. Stupid, loving Harbend who''d come to her rescue never knowing she needed none. He''d risked his life for her, not at her orders. No one had done that before.


    He did have a noble face, a very dirty noble face, but it was hers to admire. The gaze he gave her sent a wave of pleasant warmth through her body. Tonight, maybe, if they were still alive by then.


    "They are here." Neritan''s tired voice broke Nakora''s thoughts about lovemaking.


    "Who?" Nakora asked already knowing.


    "I don''t know exactly, but I felt them jumping here. They are close."


    Nakora groaned. What could they do now? Trai dead and Escha in stupor. She met Gring''s eyes. No, not her as well! There was something defeated in those large eyes, and the Khraga looked less like a death bringing nightmare and more like a child who was afraid of getting slapped for being naughty.


    Gods! I don''t need this. We don''t need this. Where is the warrior?


    "Gring, we fight and then we die. No dying without fighting."


    Nakora looked in despair at the Khraga turned child. Then the sound of soldiers closed in on them.


    ***


    The fight, if it could even be called one, had turned sour from the onset. They were too few to meet the enemy head on, and when Neritan promised they were indeed close to the caravan they decided to flee, and now Harbend was crouching between two heaps of snow having lost sight of his friends.


    Arthur had killed one man with his device, and the sound had been enough to give them some well needed respite, but then Arthur said there would be no more thundering help from his side.


    A rumbling from behind spelled either more trouble or some much needed help. Hopefully the latter. The escort should have been here by now if it would ever come to their aid.


    Harbend ducked and rolled in the snow. Nowhere to hide out here. The snow crept inside his clothes and started to melt. The cold was agonizing, but he didn''t dare to move before he knew what was happening.


    Another roar from behind. This time he decided to take the risk. Nothing to lose any longer. Harbend stood on his knees trying to be ready to fight back, but weaponless there wasn''t much he could do.


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    It was the escort. The battle mages he had hired but never got to know during the journey threw lances of fire over his head aiming for targets he couldn''t see. If they were here men on horses couldn''t be far away. A wave of relief washed through him. They were safe, or as safe as they would ever be this far from Keen.


    Captain Laiden roared curses at full throat, and the incredibly foul language filled Harbend with a warmth that would have had his mother frown in disgust at him if she had known. Then the thunder of hoofs passed on both sides of him as the escort joined the fray.


    Harbend staggered to higher grounds.


    Ahead of him Trindai''s men loosed their crossbows while charging. Then they rode into the disarray they had created, slashing with drawn sabers as they rode through the thin line of soldiers. They wheeled their horses, line almost unbroken, and charged back. The third charge scattered the enemy who retreated, and when Nakora''s troops joined the fight the retreat turned into a rout.


    Once Horse-lord Vildir Kanir had told Harbend that a soldier must fight or break, and that fighting was surviving. He hadn''t understood it then, but as he watched the slaughter in front of him he wondered where his uncle''s cavalry commander had learned the lesson. Harbend had experienced a skirmish, even seen men killed as a young man, but nothing like this. Khi didn''t war on anyone, but there were clan feuds, and Harbend had a sickening feeling the word feud didn''t really describe what happened when two clans failed to resolve their differences with diplomacy.


    He stared out over the battlefield and saw the soldiers from Ri Khi dispatching wounded men begging for mercy. Only the escort from Keen refrained from the butchering, and he could almost feel their distaste for the sight they shared with him.


    There had never been much of a battle, and now it was only murder.


    The screams were almost as awful as the sight. Harbend helplessly watched wounded men having their arms and legs cut away before they were finally killed. Soldiers cut off fingers to get rings from men still alive and screaming in pain and shock. The snow, once even and white was now trampled and dirtied by blood and the scattered remains of bodies.


    Harbend knew parts of his own history. Once the armies of Khi had earned themselves a very bad reputation. Apparently some of the reason for that had become a damning tradition still upheld by the descendants now living in Ri Khi. He turned in disgust and walked away. The relief he once had felt was gone and there was only revulsion left.


    ***


    Free! They were free again.


    It was wonderful to be alive.


    Arthur staggered into the waiting arms of a woman he didn''t remember seeing before. Somehow he knew they must have jumped and he finally dared to believe they were safe again.


    Safe. No longer a prisoner sentenced to death. He relaxed, and with relief came some kind of absolution, and he lost consciousness.


    ***


    Harbend faced Trindai. He felt as if he was the one reporting to the captain rather than the other way around, but he was too tired to bother.


    "We got them all back," Harbend said tiredly. "Any more trouble?"


    "I think we made it," Trindai answered.


    "We did, but please, find someone to take care of Escha!"


    "What happened?"


    "They got Trai, and we failed even to bring his body with us."


    "Oh, darkness! How?"


    "A spear. They were too many."


    Harbend didn''t want to say that Trai had been too careless, that he had taken an unnecessary risk. Why sully the memory of one already dead? Maybe Trai had challenged danger too overtly, but it had still been Harbend''s decision to rescue Arthur. Nothing would change that. The responsibility would always remain his, and for the second time since they left Verd he''d allowed people who trusted him to die because he deemed it necessary. His wants. His needs. Always what he thought was for the best -- as if he had any right to choose who got to live and who had to die.


    Harbend turned in search for Nakora. He needed someone sensible, someone who didn''t look at him in awe or gratefulness, and of the three who didn''t, Nakora was the only one he had the strength to meet.

 Intermezzo

    A hole in reality. A very cute hole in reality, just fluffy enough to tickle the observer a bit, and make her laugh. What other reason could there be for a hole in reality?


    One such possible reason crawled out of the hole and made her giggle. Such a sweet little darling! A truly miraculous darling.


    She sensed the one who unknowingly had dared to make jest at her so very long ago. A man he had been at that time, but not any longer. Now he was one of them, as were all she had any clear memories of.


    "Come closer, my dear," she urged.


    "I am humbled in your presence, most glorious of mothers," he answered instead of doing her bidding.


    "Oh, you flatter me," she smiled. "You were always good with words, more so now than earlier."


    He had chosen human form, maybe to honor her, maybe as a prank. It didn''t matter.


    "I am obliged to. How else would my jokes come as the surprise you deserve?"


    "How else," she admitted laughing.


    "I am here at your calling."


    "So you are."


    "I am here to make you know there are new strands in the Weave."


    "There will always be new threads added. They make our future."


    "The Weave is spreading as well. New futures from Outside are intermingling with our own."


    "I know. It is a change, just like any other change." She grinned happily. He was so innocent, so beautifully ignorant.


    "This change spreads like a disease. It infects everyone coming in contact with it."


    "Change does. That is part of the nature of change."


    "The sanctuary is violated."


    "I know, my dear. It had to happen, but our gift has still not been used there. Maybe, at least, that will not happen."


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    "They allow weapons from Outside to be used there."


    "They have a right to do that. My wonderful darling, we cannot live their lives, nor can we decide how they live them."


    "But those weapons are as ghastly as the misuse of the gift."


    "We are not to interfere," she laughed, deliberately adding a chilly sharpness to her mirth.


    "They are killing our small ones," he protested.


    "We are not to interfere."


    "They have brought our gifts into their self imposed haven."


    "We are not to interfere."


    "They allow those from Outside to spread like Grabbed ones."


    "Yet we are not to interfere."


    "One Weaves what has not been."


    "And still we shall not interfere."


    "One who is not from here."


    "We know, yet we do not act."


    "We could talk to the one."


    "To act directly would be to interfere."


    "We know one who may interfere on our behalf."


    "Him you may visit, but remember, we are not to interfere."


    "I will do so, great mother."


    "You will do so, loved son."


    "We will meet again, great mother."


    "We will."

 Chapter seventeen, Braka, part one

    It was the first meeting after the escape, and as such it had much of a war council over it. Harbend was there, as were both of the escort captains, but neither Escha nor Gring were present. They were in the care of the magehealers, apparently headed by a yellow-eyed woman who had joined the caravan in a way Arthur was still unclear about.


    At the moment, though, she was not with her patients, and he wondered what made her important enough to take part of the meeting. He didn''t mind. She was pleasant enough to look at as long as you didn''t take into consideration eyes that seemed to have seen too much. Arthur would have guessed her age at the late thirties despite her youthful appearance, but something he was unable to put his finger on hinted she was older. If the notion hadn''t been so ridiculous he would have said she was older than himself, maybe by several decades.


    Captain Laiden spent most of the time before the real meeting started with giving Captain Weinak uncomfortable glances she paid no heed. She in her turn looked at Harbend with eyes so hungry Arthur couldn''t help laughing.


    Chaijrild, Arthur thought, should have been allowed to take part of whatever was going to be said, but her mother had refused to leave the side of her daughter for as much as a moment, and Arthur could hardly say that he didn''t understand.


    Thinking of the girl made him uncomfortable. He had no wish to meet her mother anytime soon. How could he answer questions from her? Chaijrild was sure to have told Lianin about what he had done.


    Hell, even the mother is younger than I am.


    Arthur tried to rise, but his right leg wouldn''t carry him and he sat down on his pallet again. The magehealers from Ri Khi had done something to his leg so it didn''t hurt any longer, but it was still too weak for him to stand on. At the moment he was happy he''d been unconscious when they pulled the arrow out. It would probably have hurt otherwise, even though he couldn''t even remember being hit. There was a lot he didn''t remember from his capture, and from the time after the rescue. They''d been badly starved he was told, and he did remember waking dreams of being fed.


    Arthur gazed at those present waiting for someone to begin. Captain Laiden did, ah, Trindai, yes that was his name. Trust Trindai to be the first to act, even if only to speak.


    "Both escorts are out searching for enemies. We need to know if we''re going to be attacked again."


    Harbend snorted. "Not likely I say. It has been three full days since we returned."


    "That''s less than the time I''d need to gather troops if I wanted to return in force, M''lord."


    "Why should anyone want to?" Arthur asked.


    "Because anyone stupid enough to take a taleweaver prisoner and not releasing him or her immediately must make certain the incident never becomes known," the yellow-eyed Magehealer answered.


    "I don''t understand."


    "Arthur, what have you been told about Keen and magic?" she asked smiling at Trindai as if sharing a secret.


    "Enough to know they don''t agree very well, apart from Verd in itself that is."


    "If I assume a full regiment from Keen would gladly ride out alongside battle mages from Rhuin or Khanati should it ever be known that someone had targeted a taleweaver, how wrong would I be?"


    The captain gave her a crooked grin. "I don''t know about gladly, but it would be a sad day if we could only muster a single regiment," he agreed.


    Arthur looked at them in bewilderment. "That''s insane! Why use that kind of resources for the sake of one single individual?"


    The Magehealer smiled back. "Yes, why indeed?"


    Arthur suddenly had a vision of frantic activity in the orbital docking station circling the planet. He didn''t need an explanation for that activity. After all he''d made sure to pay enough bribes to prolong the pursuit knowing well enough that federation officials would come after him sooner or later anyway.


    "But that''s... different."


    Harbend shot him a surprised look. "What is different?"


    "She," Arthur pointed at the Magehealer, "did something so I saw my own people."


    "Is that true, Neritan?" Harbend asked. So that was her name.


    "Yes, but it''s hardly the point. I wanted him to understand that more than one empire takes interest in the destinies of certain individuals."


    "Ah, I see."


    "Now, we need to know the identity of the one who ordered you captured," Neritan said.


    "I still don''t understand, and I was just a bonus I guess," Arthur answered sullenly.


    "A what?" Trindai asked.


    "Oh, he didn''t want me. He was after Gring."


    Several stares were exchanged before Neritan spoke again. "Who did, and why?"


    "We were captured by horsemen from the plains led by a Khraga chieftain named Kharg. Gring fought bravely before we were captured. I think she''d want that to be made clear."


    "Kharg?" Neritan looked at Captain Weinak.


    "I''m not familiar with the name, but we don''t meet enemy Khraga that often," she answered.


    "So, this Kharg of the Khraga captured you, or rather Gring, is that correct?"


    "Yes," Arthur muttered. "Chaijrild and I just happened to be there." Well, that wasn''t entirely true. He''d been accompanied by Gring for most of the journey since they left the Roadhouse, and Chaijrild had made more than her fair share of attempts to follow them around.


    Neritan smiled, and he could feel her smile inside his head.


    Damn, she''s a bloody Mindwalker, just like Gring.


    "Yes, I''m a Mindwalker as well as a Magehealer," she confirmed aloud. "Now, why would this Kharg want to capture Gring?"


    Arthur remembered all too well. "He accused her of being a renegade, a traitor of sorts."


    "Oh," Neritan said. "Oh."


    "What?" Harbend asked. "What''s so important about that?"


    "I know more of the Khraga than I think any of you do. In their eyes there could be no greater offense to their own than a traitorous Khraga. Well, hunting a taleweaver would be worse, I guess, but not by much."


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    "Are you saying we''ll have an army of vengeful Khraga on our backs?" Trindai growled.


    "I''m afraid so, unless we can convince them that capturing Arthur was a greater crime," Neritan answered.


    "They wouldn''t believe that," Arthur said silently.


    This time he was the sole target of surprised stares.


    "And why is that?" Neritan asked, her voice cutting the silence like a sharpened razor.


    "This Kharg, he didn''t believe I was a taleweaver. I tried to convince him in the fortified village we were brought to. I''m not sure I can describe where it is."


    "No need, we know," said Captain Weinak and shuddered.


    Neritan gave her an irritated glance and turned to Arthur again. "How did you try?"


    Those eyes! Those horrible, ancient eyes.


    Their yellow light cut through him like a beacon through glass. There was nothing he could keep hidden from her.


    "I Wove," he whispered, terrified she would slay him on the spot if he didn''t give her the answer she wanted.


    Neritan was still like a statue, but Harbend drew his breath.


    "And the bastard didn''t believe you?" Trindai hissed.


    "No. He must have thought I was a Mindwalker or something, because he said I was only playing tricks with their minds."


    "Arthur, are you certain? Inside the village? There must have been witnesses." Neritan this time.


    "Yes, I''m sure, but most of them looked unhappy."


    "They are going to look a lot worse than unhappy when the expedition arrives," Captain Weinak shot in. "We should be able to get help from Braka if we get there."


    "Please! I''m not from here. Someone explain to me." What was going on? More strange secrets of this world?


    "If this village agreed to this then we truly have renegades on our hands."


    "But they didn''t," Arthur protested. "Kharg forced a decision and had us jumped to a place Gring called Gaz."


    "Gaz! I should have known! Why did you not tell us, Harbend?" Captain Weinak cried.


    Arthur looked at her. He ought to know her name, especially if she had become the love interest of Harbend.


    Captain Weinak, Captain Nakora Weinak.


    "Would you have come? Sorry, I take that back. Escha did not think it was important. There has been very little problem with Gaz for centuries, and besides not even they would violate that law," Harbend answered in a barely audible voice.


    "But they..."


    "Quiet!" Neritan shouted. "Quiet all of you! Harbend is right. Gaz, of all empires, would never do such a thing. Believe me! So, you were brought to Gaz. What happened there?" Neritan nodded at Arthur.


    "Kharg wanted us to be interrogated by a questioner or something like that," he answered.


    "Well, that should definitely remove all doubts whether you were a taleweaver or not," Neritan said with something sounding like relief filling her voice.


    "Well, it didn''t turn out that way. We were sentenced to death by the questioner."


    "What!"


    "Yes, but he seemed bloody angry as well."


    "Did this questioner have a name?"


    Arthur tried to remember. "Yes, Vailin, or something like that."


    "No family name?"


    "Uh, yes, yes, now I remember. He said his name was Vailinin ad Rhigrat."


    The silence that followed was absolute.


    "What is it?" Arthur asked when he could bear it no longer.


    "The son," Harbend whispered.


    "Yes, but he''s reputed to be nothing like his father," Neritan answered weakly.


    "Who could possibly be?" Nakora asked and looked as if she was going to be sick.


    "Again, I don''t know what you''re talking about," Arthur said.


    "His father, Kakad ad Rhigrat was a monster. If his son has turned rotten then there''s nothing we can do. If he decides to wipe us out before we reach Braka then we will die. He''s a truth seer, an interrogator of a kind who are supposed to be fully dedicated to truth and nothing else. With the reputation and power he has he could order a large portion of the military force Gaz has available just to hunt us down."


    "The last I saw of him was him having a shouting match with Kharg. Ask Gring, she can tell you more, but I''m certain he wasn''t too pleased with ordering us dead."


    "Are you telling me he didn''t want you dead? Please, be very careful with what you say."


    Arthur looked Neritan straight into her eyes. "He did not. I''m as certain as I''ll ever be. As I said, ask Gring. Don''t even remember actually being sentenced to death myself."


    Neritan nodded and left the meeting.


    "What do we do now?" Arthur asked to no one special.


    "Nothing," Harbend answered. "We go on to Braka. This is beyond me. Neritan is of the golden, and so is Vailinin. This will be solved elsewhere, unless we get killed first." With that he also left, Nakora trailing his steps.


    "Great, just great!" Arthur muttered.

 Chapter seventeen, Braka, part two

    It was a strangely subdued caravan continuing its snaking trail towards Braka. It was as if they could all feel Arthur''s mood, and he spent the days practicing his skill with De Vhatic, catching up a few phrases in Khi on the way, but he didn''t take up his earlier routine of telling tales during the evenings.


    Any result from the meeting was kept from him, and he didn''t bother to ask. Empires and strange laws was not what he wanted to get involved in, and as long as no one specifically told him he needed to he intended to keep as far away from it as possible.


    He concentrated on mastering De Vhatic instead as he no longer had a Mindwalker at his side at all times. Working on the language was far easier now. Spending all the time with Gring must have made him used to the patterns of thought people used when talking, and he realized he was becoming close to fluent with the language in an impossibly short time.


    Within a few weeks he was once more sitting around cook fires telling people about life on Earth, but now he spoke without the help of Gring, which would have been impossible anyway. She was occupied together with Neritan trying to bring back Escha to sanity. He was the only one who had lost anything that couldn''t be replaced.


    Trai, brave Trai. The dandy had become a hero, and now he wasn''t among them to hear the praise. Arthur guessed he would have smiled and bowed with his arms outstretched in one of his outrageously flamboyant gestures had he been among them to listen.


    ***


    "I hate being locked up with my mother!"


    "She nearly lost you, child," Nakora responded.


    "Don''t call me a child!"


    "I didn''t mean to..." Gods! The brat is two years, three, older than I was when father died. "offend you," Nakora lied when she sensed Chaijrild noticing the silence.


    "You weren''t there. Now Arthur won''t even talk with me."


    Nakora frowned. She had been there, but never as a captive. Still, this was her first opportunity to talk with Chaijrild since the rescue. "I understand. It must have been a harrowing experience."


    "Harrowing?"


    "Yes, the horror of it."


    "Horror? He was satisfied enough when we slept."


    Oh? Oh! The conversation had definitely taken an unexpected turn. "No, I meant... ah. Does he still have his stamina?" she continued to turn the conversation to a direction she was supposed to know better than weapons, tactics and logistics.


    "Oh yes! For a man his age he..."


    Nakora smiled despite discomfort creeping all over her. Taking part of the gossip was something she by now had agreed upon, and thinly disguised among unspoken rules lay her own evaluation of Harbend''s nighttime skills. Not that she had anything to complain about, but talking about it, well.


    Another overly graphic description reached her through her thoughts, and smiling, this time for real, she threw caution aside. "You really mean that? Now, I have heard of this herb..."


    ***


    An endless snake, not of scales, but of men, horses and wagons. The train seemed to go on forever. They were almost at their goal now, and news about their arrival were sure to be buzzing around the capital. So close to Braka, maybe already there. Borders were not as clear here on the plains as closer to Keen, but there was a hint of salt in the air, and birds he hadn''t seen since he last visited Hasselden flew past them from time to time, and all those signs told him they were closer to the sea now.


    Braka boasted a small port, the only of its kind in human control this side of the mountains, and he hoped to reach it within a few days. From there it should be little more than an eightday to Belgera, the inland capital of Braka.


    Harbend decided to leave the rear of the column and ride ahead. They had very little livestock left and would need to buy some when they arrived at the port. Maybe they could get a fair volume of fish. That would certainly be a treat after too much horseflesh and lizard. Only Arthur got exited when they brought in a lizard, but he displayed an inappropriate interest in anything with six legs.


    Arthur, dear Arthur. After all this, and when he was finally safe he complained about losing his electrical book. Something about important notes lost. Harbend shook his head. He continued riding for a while. He didn''t expect to meet up with Arthur, Gring and Escha as they probably rode with the vanguard now when both of the mages had received enough mental healing according to Neritan.


    Chaijrild stayed with her mother most of the time, but she was young enough to discard some bad memories and grow back into her usual insolent, cheerful self. Escha, that was another debt unpaid. A man lost, and even though Harbend would never understand the love between two men he respected the Transport Khar too much to deny it had been there.


    Harbend slowly shook his head. What should they do with Gring? Only recently released from the care of Neritan and once more running with the vanguard. Outcast from her own. He wondered if the Khraga living in Ri Kordari would accept her, and if she would accept them. Another debt.


    Pushing the thoughts from his mind Harbend rode in search for Nakora. She would know how to divert his thoughts to more pleasurable paths. He smiled as he willed his horse into a slow gallop. Thinking of her made it easy to smile. There was more than joy in the thought, he admitted. He was falling in love with the radiant captain from Ri Khi, had been for a while now, and there was nothing he could do about it, nothing he wanted to do about it. She made him feel like the man his father had wanted him to be, or more than that. She made him feel like the man he wanted himself to be, which was far, far more important.


    Maybe Uncle Ramdar had known more than Harbend had been willing to admit. There had been an undertone to the words about a unique quality each clan needed to display, an undertone that slowly made sense. Each person had to provide something more than obedience to traditions, or the traditions themselves would grow stale. Enough reason for such a peculiar demand as every clan represented something each family strove to become.


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    The snow around him still spelled winter, and winter it would be for some eightdays yet where they were. Harbend sighed. Keen was sure to show the first signs of spring already, especially Hasselden. The port was the first to throw off the clutch of winters never very cold to begin with.


    It would be good to be somewhere warm now. Harbend longed for flowers and the fragile green of spring. Snow had once been an uncommon reason for joy, but now he had had enough of it to last a lifetime. He failed to understand how anyone in their right mind could want to live in a cold, barren wilderness. Always the snow covered plains with hardly a tree to break the monotony, only the wooded mountainsides painting a blue line far to the southwest.


    At least riding banished some of the cold from him. A little while later, when he finally caught sight of Nakora, he felt a peculiar warmth streaming through his body.


    ***


    They reached the first of their planned destinations a day later. It was the port where ships from Keen had once landed their wares before raiders made shipping all but impossible.


    Harbend saw stone walls rising higher than any of the rooftops inside, and they had to pass through the gates before he could see any of the houses. The town was smaller than he expected. For all the important trade once passing through it was very little more than a harbor with some houses attached to it. Two, maybe three thousand souls made this place their home, and only if he included the surrounding farms. Harbend couldn''t imagine why anyone even bothered with walling an over-sized village like this.


    He looked at the harbor. It lacked the defenses of Keen''s ports, but he couldn''t see any signs of damage. The raiders apparently didn''t sail here, but why should they? With no ships coming from Keen it was of no use for anyone but the sea hunters, and from the size of the town there couldn''t been enough of them to justify warships to come here. Gods! If he didn''t know it was here all traders to Braka sailed there wasn''t anything justifying anyone sailing here.


    That was one more reason to continue with the caravans. That and the people living on the Sea of Grass. An unexpected bonus, and they were closer to Keen than Braka. Close enough to swell any caravan going to Braka with traders from Ri Khi and Erkateren who didn''t want to be away from home for too long. Those added wagons would pay for the extra escort needed for climbing the mountains, maybe even for setting up a smaller roadhouse on the Sea of Grass. That would make the mountain pass as safe as it would ever get.


    Harbend would like that to happen. Every roadhouse away from the main roads eventually gave birth to a small town, and they all served as hubs for hunters, travelers and of course traders. One built on the plains would become something of a port if given enough time. It could happen during his own lifetime. He smiled at the thought. It would be something to be remembered for. The indirect founder of an important trading town.


    ***


    "Would you like me to scratch your back?"


    "Mm, yes, do," Nakora murmured and turned in the narrow bunk. She stretched and smiled, allowing herself to enjoy Harbend''s hands on her back. Cramped or not it was still a luxurious feeling, and she intended to the most out of it.


    "Like it?"


    "Uh um."


    "Want me to again, later?"


    On the verge of lazily answering him she heard the edge in his voice and caught herself. "How much later?" she asked with apprehension and a little fear.


    "As much as would please you," he answered.


    "When we return?" Now, she had said it.


    "Yes, I think I would enjoy that very much," Harbend whispered, and digging his lips into her back he fell very, very silent.


    Tears came to her eyes. Would she dare sharing her life with him. Would she dare not to? But in the end the answer gave itself as she finally admitted what she had known for some time now. "I love you."


    Harbend hugged her closer before echoing her words.


    ***


    Harbend thanked the harbor master and mounted his horse. The trade had been good, and he didn''t mind transporting wares from the port to the capital in exchange for a slightly better price for the goods he sold here. They even managed to buy a fair amount of livestock, and he was already longing for the change in diet. Nothing wrong with horseflesh and lizard, but a change, any change was more than welcome.


    They snaked slowly through the landscape. The progress was fast enough for him though. Within an eightday they would reach Belgera, the capital of Braka, and there the real trading would take place. It would be the reward everyone in the caravan waited for.


    Harbend smiled and hoped no one saw him. He probably looked as if he was growling. They were all happy now, looking forward to reaching their goal, but he knew there would be a return journey as well, and it was bound to be just as slow and time consuming as their way here.


    Would there be protests, the same kind that had forced him to order the executions? No, probably not. They would be on their way home then. Harbend hoped he was right. Never again would he give the order to kill anyone just because they voiced a different opinion than his own, no matter how dangerous such opinions were. You didn''t kill people for saying out loud what they were thinking. That wasn''t right.


    Harbend smiled again, a more honest smile this time. He must have spent too much time with Arthur. Soft Arthur from his soft world of strange powers. Then Harbend remembered the weapon Arthur had used in the mountain pass and later in the mad rush for freedom in Gaz. If such things were made for personal protection there was no end to what they could make for aggression. There was nothing soft behind curbing that kind of power.

 Intermezzo

    Mixtla watched the devastation in the harbor. Remains of a once proud fleet. He had known that the towns were defended with stone throwers, but couldn''t imagine the amount needed to bring such a total destruction to an entire fleet. The surprise must have been absolute and the aim infallible. Not a single ship had escaped, or at least none they had met on their way back from the patrol.


    He had a choice between returning to Mina and report what he knew of the disaster or continue patrolling the waters here, but with only ten ships, and only one of them large enough to take on anything that could be launched at them from the coast, he would need to be very careful. Even though they had subdued all navies mustered by the coastal powers along the northern half of the landmass he simply didn''t have enough ships to risk an encounter with what little remained to pose a threat. He had a responsibility to the less than thousand strong defending their gains on the peninsula.


    He clicked his jaws. Hard. It was not right. Ages passed and the soft skinned apes spread like wildfire across the world, and now, now not even the seas were safe any longer.


    He heard the clattering of claws closing and turned.


    "Supreme one, a scout has arrived."


    "About time!" Mixtla said.


    He waited for his subordinates to bring the informer. Hopefully something could still be salvaged. Mixtla stood still, anticipating whatever news he would be given, and then a broad legged kin was facing him. The wings flickered with self assurance beneath his robes, and Mixtla knew the messenger to be more than merely a scout.


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    "Supreme one. I am First of the Mother."


    A priest. Welcome surprise indeed. "First, I am honored. What are your gifts of knowledge?"


    "I have seen those destroying our ships. They have weapons beyond our reach, but they are gone to meet others of their kind. I last saw them marching inland before I jumped here."


    Mixtla licked his teeth. "Do you mean we are safe from their weapons?"


    "Supreme one, I am."


    "And the other ships, are they safe as well?"


    "I am afraid there are no other ships."


    That confirmed Mixtla''s suspicions. Unfortunate, but nothing he could change. "Then we sail for Mina." He looked at the town that had killed so many of them. "First we send a message. Starboard cannons!" He heard the rumbling of gun ports opening as the crew made ready to fire. "We give them a broadside each. After that we turn and leave. Make sure the line holds so we can fire our port guns on the way out."

 Chapter eighteen, Belgera

    The city rose above them like a shadow of death. Stone, stone, everywhere stone, and a large portion of the walls seemed to be hewn directly from the mountain side. Harbend could see the city climbing the mountain until it ended at the base of a cliff wall soaring into the mountains above. It was ugly beyond belief and yet majestic in its compact greyness.


    The road climbed steeply to the city walls, but first they had to pass through the outer city. It was a little bit like the one outside of Ri Nachi, but as Belgera hugged the mountain there was no way to avoid going through the outer town. It was called Downtown for a good reason. Almost all of it lay literally beneath the city walls with not a single house erected closer than two lamps from the walls so nothing could climb the earthworks under the base of them without being seen.


    They were still a far distance from the town when people started to gather along the road to watch the spectacle. Most were silent, but some cheered as the wagons passed by. The people here looked more like those in Keen or Kordar than those from Ri Khi. Light in complexion, blond or sometimes red haired. Children played in the dirt, but the sight of the caravan soon caught their attention and they joined their elders watching the wagons in wonder.


    Harbend sat up straighter. If they wanted a show he wasn''t going to be the one to make them disappointed. He waved at the faces he saw and was in turn greeted by waves and shouts of encouragement. It must have been a long time since they saw anyone who didn''t live here, and the ships probably never allowed their crews this far inland.


    He rode on feeling somewhat like an item on exhibition, but it only made him feel better. They had struggled for so long to reach this goal, and he didn''t intend to allow the modesty his station demanded to interfere with his wellbeing. At the moment he enjoyed the cheering intensely. Tomorrow there would be business to take care of, but now was a proper time for celebration. The elation was intoxicating.


    ***


    It took the better part of two days to settle the members of the caravan in the city, and when they were done all inns were filled to capacity. In reality most traders were housed with families who wanted to make some unexpected money from the arrivals, something Harbend had told Arthur was a very lucky turn of events.


    That didn''t need any explaining. After months spent with the wagon train Arthur was more than tired of going to sleep dirty and cold. The capture, awful as it had been, had still broken the endless monotony of the journey, and he had a dim memory of something happening. Most of the traders had not even seen the battle where they finally broke off any further attempts at recapture.


    Arthur grimaced with ill hidden distaste. He''d seen very little of the fighting itself, but he had seen the grounds where it had occurred afterwards. It must have been a bad fight, and he was surprised so few of their escort were killed. So many bodies in the snow, most of them badly mutilated. Arthur wondered what could have made the soldiers from Gaz so desperate they continued fighting after loosing limbs. Fanatics, they must have been filled with some mad warrior''s ideal, or possibly something even worse.


    Arthur sighed. Warrior''s ideal. Gring why don''t you tell me what happened?


    She never answered when asked and he had to satisfy with her refreshing frankness in all other matters. He asked Harbend, but he knew nothing, and asking the golden mage was out of the question. She was an uncomfortable acquaintance at the best of times.


    For the moment Arthur was happy enough to explore the city by himself or in the company of friends. He did appreciate it as a city even though it wasn''t large enough to be a suburb on Earth, but the last months had taught him something about proportions, and now he walked among the gray stone houses with the same feeling of wonder as if he had just arrived in one of the many exotic capitals at home.


    Another thing gave him pause. Earth was home, but he thought less and less of it in those terms for every month he spent here. This was a violent and barbaric world, filled with death and disgusting deeds, but somehow it still felt more alive than the placid world he''d grown up on.


    Apart from the silent parts of the central city this place was vibrant with life, almost like Verd, but in a very different way. Belgera was built in a harsher part of the world, and even though it shared some of the magical wonders people here still had to fend for themselves more actively.


    Most streets needed cleaning, and water had to be brought from wells. Apart from a few broad avenues Belgera was a maze of narrow streets ending in small squares with a well in the middle and shops strewn along their sides.


    Then, of course, there was the immense cliff climbing into the clouds walling he city on three sides. Arthur didn''t know how many hundred meters of vertical stone it was. Maybe thousands, and it all blocked any chance of the sun ever reaching here. It was a shadowy world, constantly lit by lamps and the occasional torch. In a city of dusk and night people made out their lives and created things of astonishing beauty, but sometimes Arthur longed for some greenery.


    He had to admire anyone who managed to bring more life to this vastness of stone than he had ever met on Earth. Only the arrogant inhabitants on Mars kept up a similar show, but then they were all supposed to be a little crazy. Arthur wondered if the proximity of death was needed to give life a meaning. Now that was a depressing thought.


    One morning he strolled around with Harbend after they had managed to shake off the demands of traders, both members of the caravan as well as traders local to Belgera. They were in search for a late breakfast when they got lost and found themselves at the city wall. Arthur was about to turn when something caught his interest. A small sign bolted to the wall itself. He leaned closer to give it a better look. He could almost see the letters, but had to wipe them with his sleeve first. They were readable, faint but still readable. He turned in surprise.


    "Harbend, it''s in De Vhatic."


    Harbend retraced his steps at Arthur''s words. "Yes, so it would seem," he said after studying the sign. "What about it?"


    "But I thought you said they don''t speak De Vhatic here, and I don''t understand a word they say unless Gring is with me."


    "They do not," Harbend replied, smiling.


    "But?"


    "You forget that Keen has been one of the most important trading partners Braka have, if not the most important, since I fail to know how long. Long before World War anyway."


    Arthur gave Harbend a long and sullen glare. "World War?"


    "Yes, World War, God War, the Great War, Mage Wars, Dragonwrath or a dozen other names. You have listened to enough heroic tales from that time to be familiar with it by now." Harbend shrugged, and Arthur knew it would take him years yet to unveil secrets that were everyday knowledge to others. The thought brought another revelation to him. Otherworld was slowly becoming home to him in a way Earth hadn''t been for more than half a decade. Years, yes years, was what he saw coming, and the prospect of spending a long time, if not the rest of his life here didn''t seem disturbing at all. A wave of relief and satisfaction slowly spread through his body and he smiled back to his friend.


    "You have to tell me of those events some day. I would like to know more about your history. Now, though, I would like to know what it says here."


    Harbend bent to read the faded inscription.


    "It fails to say much. It is old. Honor the valor of Krante. Something like that."


    "Krante? I''ve heard that name before."


    "Yes you have. A large town southeast of Verd. Boring place, but with a well known legend about its regiment."


    "Saying?"


    "You really should hear it from a storyteller, but in short they were called upon to scout through the mountains around here. Very few survived and those who did were received as great heroes when they came home. There are songs about it as well, quite melodramatic ones. The theater has had plays based on the story of course."


    "The charge of the light brigade," Arthur murmured silently.


    "What did you say?"


    "Nothing, really. Just a memory from home."


    A buzzing around his temples made him look up and he noted Gring coming their way. A bearded man in heavy leather coat and a broad brimmed hat accompanied her. He was short and stocky, bordering on fat. They closed while talking to each other and Arthur wondered how she''d made herself a companion here where her kind was widely hated.


    The man glanced at Arthur and the sign he''d tried to read. "Interested in history, are you?"


    "Well, yes, a bit. I just read this." Arthur pointed at the sign.


    "Ah, for Krante."


    "Yes, they still honor their memory in Keen from what I''ve heard."


    "In Keen? That''s strange."


    "How so? Krante isn''t far away from Verd, and the soldiers apparently did something very heroic."


    "Oh, yes, all honor to Krante. I just didn''t know it was part of Keen. Especially considering how events unfolded."


    "What events?"


    "Well, to begin with they were sent out to die, and from what I know several of those who survived anyway were hanged."


    "What?"


    "Oh, I''m not sure. I guess if you''re lucky enough to run into a taleweaver one day you''ll know what really happened. It''s ancient history. Only they know, or anyone who''s listened to one of them."


    Interesting tidbits of information. So there was history revision here as well. "You don''t happen to have one of these taleweavers living here, do you?"


    "No, no," the man laughed, "we don''t see any of them very often. Five years or more since the last time I''d say."


    Arthur shrugged. Asking didn''t cost him anything. "If I''m not too bold, may I ask you where to find a meal here? You would of course be very welcome to join us."


    "Thank you. I think I''ll accept." He gave Gring an uneasy glance. "You do know you''ll be asked to vouch for her on the pain of your own lives?"


    Arthur followed the look. "Eh, isn''t that a bit strong?"


    "He''s right. My brethren in the mountains still war with the halfmen here."


    "Halfmen?"


    "They are the only humans to themselves. They need to call the rest of us something else, and they are much larger, don''t you agree?" Arthur hastily interjected as explanation to avoid an unpleasant exchange of words. "I''ve been impolite. My name is Arthur Wallman. I''m what you call an outworlder."


    The man tugged at his hat with his fingers. "Karia Graig." He looked at Gring and suddenly roared with laughter. "Halfmen, that''s what you call us? I''ll tell the rest, with your permission of course," he added, irony spicing his mirth.


    "Of course. What do you call us? Twicemen?"


    Karia laughed even louder. "No, no, you''re just Khraga to us."


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    "Yes, we are human. I know that."


    Arthur could see the confusion in Gring''s face. He could almost imagine why. In a way she was a lot more straightforward than any human. There was no deceit in her, but she did expect it from almost anyone who wasn''t Khraga, and he could see how she tried to find out the hidden meaning in the laughter she faced. Arthur guessed there were not many who laughed in the face of a Khraga, or at least not expecting to live afterwards.


    "Khraga, what is your name? You know mine, and I dislike talking to a nameless face." There was a hint of a threat to Karia''s tone, but Arthur had the feeling it wasn''t directed at anyone. It seemed more like a natural extension to the man''s character.


    "I am Gring ghara Khat, Mindwalker, messenger and scout."


    "You would be, of course. Then, Gring ghara Khat, when you are once again among your own, tell your brethren you''ve spoken with Karia Graig. I am maybe only a halfman then. A scout myself, but mindwalking is not a gift of mine."


    "If you want me to, I will."


    Karia laughed again, a friendlier laugh this time.


    "Tell them we halfmen will be twice as ready next time we meet", he added, and once again there was a dangerous edge to his voice.


    Arthur gave Karia a second look. Under all those layers of heavy clothes only muscles were evident. Not fat, only muscles, and he''d said enough to make it clear he must have fought Khraga more than once. Arthur wondered what it took for a man to seek battle with the monstrous giants, but looking at the city he suspected that any people building such a forbidding place must have added more than a little of their personalities to it.


    It was a silent group walking through the narrow streets, silent as the city itself. Belgera might be populated by humans like himself, but they were severe in a way Arthur hadn''t seen anywhere else, astonishingly beautiful art aside. He realized he''d only seen children playing in the outer city. This part was almost lifeless. It was not that it was empty. Hard faced men strode down the streets, always looking as if they had a goal in mind, never strolling aimlessly, and there were very few faces to be seen showing any joy. It was a depressing place for depressed people, Arthur decided. The absence of women among the stony faces they met disturbed him as well. He wondered if they were locked up or simply had the good sense to avoid this part of the town.


    Arthur began to have second thoughts about the wisdom in choosing to eat here instead of in the outer town which promised to be much more lively. And with more women to lighten up the atmosphere, he added as an afterthought.


    Not that he had any interest in women. Especially after what he''d done to Chaijrild. That memory still clung to him, but he''d been lonely at the time. There would be no repeating of it. The self made promise made him feel stupid. As if he''d been the only one to grab relief available. She had seduced Captain Trindai after failing to bed Harbend earlier. He, though he believed himself to come from a world far more civilized than this place of violence, on the other hand, had forced himself upon a girl less than half his age when she was still asleep, and there could be nothing forgiving that. Still occupied by his thoughts he almost failed to notice when Karia stopped and bade them enter.


    Arthur cast the man a grateful glance. Finding a good restaurant in Belgera, no matter if it was somber or not, would have been a quest in itself for someone who''d never been here. Arthur suspected Gring''s presence wouldn''t have helped either.


    He followed Karia over the doorstep and found himself in a building looking as much as a fortress on the inside as from the outside.


    Damn, these people must be a depressed lot. He fervently hoped the food wouldn''t mirror the dark, stony interior and the few grave faces already occupying a few tables.


    A heavily muscled man blocked his way and pointed at Gring.


    "The Khraga goes with me." Arthur said. He''d been expecting something like this from Karia''s previous comments.


    The man, owner of the establishment or a guard, it was hard to tell, looked at Karia who nodded, and they were let in.


    Arthur looked into the room he entered and was met by startled gasps. Well, they were probably aimed at Gring rather than at him, but it made little difference. To his relief the diners made no attempts of acting but verbally to their surprise. He stared back at them.


    Marching between tables he had time to take in more of the nature of the people dining here than he wanted to. Arthur had no problems guessing what the peculiar racks standing beside each table was for. Weapons of all kinds belonging to the diners were placed for easy access so that not even during a meal a man should be unable to immediately rush into action. Arthur''s mood sank even further. What he saw didn''t match Karia''s previous assertion that the capital was so impregnable no enemy would ever dare to attack it.


    The food, to Arthur''s great relief, didn''t turn out so bad after all. It was a far cry from the fantastic meals he enjoyed in Verd but still tasty if a bit too salty. Mutton and what tasted like potatoes made up most of it, and it was accompanied by a generous assortment of bread and dried fruit. He tried two kinds of ale and a hot beverage strong in alcohol and spice. The ales were decent, but the liquor lost most of its appetizing qualities as its temperature dropped.


    Arthur turned his interest from his food to his companions at the table. Gring was, unsurprisingly, trying to look indifferent to the hostile glances she received from the other guests, and Arthur couldn''t but help sympathize with her. Here she was much more of an unwanted stranger than he was. He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile, but she hardly seemed to notice him.


    Harbend was involved in a discussion concerning trading opportunities with Karia, and the topic obviously didn''t interest the latter.


    In an attempt to rescue their invited host Arthur broke into the conversation. "Karia, concerning the distance between Braka and Keen, why is the relation between you important enough to warrant our presence. Your point of view, of course."


    Karia shot him a surprised look. "Wasn''t that obvious from the plaque you read earlier? We were allied during that war for historical reasons even then. We still are."


    "I''m sorry, I don''t understand, but excuse someone who''s unfamiliar with your shared history."


    Karia shook his head. "Braka was settled by people from around Keen in ancient times. We''ve shared a bond ever since." He raised his glass in an ironic toast.


    "And that bond is only one of trading?" Arthur grinned at Harbend to make his friend understand it was only friendly banter.


    "Today, yes, I guess that''s the case, but earlier it was more than so. We even founded Harkiler to ensure that the bond wouldn''t break."


    "Harkiler?"


    "That''s the town at the sea. Coming here with ships was very dangerous before the harbor was built."


    "It still is," Harbend shot in.


    "Yes, I know, but we don''t have a sailing army the way you do, and the ships from the west don''t trouble us much."


    "Why not?" Arthur asked before he realized his question could be answered in more than one way.


    "I don''t know. Perhaps they can''t find anything to fight." Karia shrugged.


    "No, what I meant is why don''t you have a fleet of your own?"


    Karia didn''t answer and his face showed only incomprehension.


    "A sailing army," Harbend added helpfully.


    "Ah, well, it''s too far from here to the sea. We only built the town to make sure ships from Keen would continue to come here."


    "Too far?" Arthur asked.


    "Yes, it takes an eightday to travel there, and most of us live close to Belgera."


    "You mean the time it takes for anyone to travel between this harbor town of yours and Belgera is the only reason you haven''t developed the opportunities a good harbor would give you?"


    "Yes, I guess so. It''s been a matter of discussion for as long as I can remember, but you can''t do much about distance unless you have jump mages willing to take up a permanent position to transport people between two cities."


    "That''s stupid," Arthur said and almost immediately regretted his words.


    "You''re not from here, so I''ll forgive your impoliteness," Karia responded.


    "I''m sorry, but distance is about time rather than anything else, wouldn''t you agree?"


    "Of course. As I said, this has been a matter of heated discussions for a long time, but Harkiler is simply too far away from here."


    "But you could avoid all that with a good road to the harbor."


    "Now that''s an expertise I didn''t expect from your side. What''s your profession?"


    Arthur thought for a few moments before he answered. "I''m a taleweaver."


    Karia exchanged looks with Harbend, and apparently the men made a silent agreement. About what Arthur was not sure of.


    "You did say earlier you''re an outworlder, didn''t you?"


    "Yes," Arthur answered not knowing what direction the conversation was taking.


    "Now, that''s novel. What do you mean about the road?" Karia asked, evidently wanting Arthur to explain further.


    "Well, you do agree transports within the city walls take a shorter time compared to in the countryside? Especially during rain or snow."


    "Of course." Karia smiled.


    "You of all people should be able to quickly lay a paved road all the way to the harbor."


    "Why?"


    "I''ve seen that you deposit stone in great heaps around Belgera. From mining?"


    "Yes. The rubble is a waste product from tunneling."


    "You could as well use it for road building. You don''t even need to open up a designated quarry."


    "Are you certain?" Karia asked.


    "Hell, yes!"


    "That''s interesting. My father sits in the city council. Would you mind speaking with him?"


    "No, of course not," Arthur answered without thinking.


    Karia exchanged a grin with Harbend. "Good. I''ll set up a meeting between the two of you, and maybe a few more." Karia smiled, and when Arthur saw the calculating eyes glittering he knew that once again he had embarked upon something he couldn''t back away from. He sighed and gave Karia a crooked smile in return.


    "I''m looking forward to it," Arthur said hearing a strain in his voice that surely must tell Karia he wasn''t.

 Intermezzo

    Close, so very close now. Christina Ulfsdotir growled. A growl of satisfaction. Smiling was something she''d almost forgotten.


    She would have satisfaction. Months of hunting almost over and her prey so close she imagined she could smell him. Tracking him had taken longer than she expected, the unfortunate episode at the Roadhouse her greatest setback. Weeks searching for anyone who knew his whereabouts until she got hold of rumors about a caravan. Finding someone crazy or greedy enough to brave crossing the mountains in winter had taken a few days as well.


    Christina shuddered at the memories. Climbing the mountains with their gear had been hell. Reactor in her remaining hovercraft almost overheating before they made the summit. Two men dead in accidents as well, but they did make it. Descending the other side was almost as bad.


    The scout they hired turned out brave enough to stay her arm when they arrived at a small wooden town. She''d have killed him but for the months spent together in the wilderness. With difficulties came an awareness of leadership she somehow failed to grasp during all those years back on Earth.


    Unfit. The word her father used when her brother died trying to claim Otherworld for the federation. Unfit. Ever in the shadow of her brother, even when he was dead and she in command of the largest newscaster in the entire federation. Unfit. And her father never understanding how much she had loved her brother, never envious of his success. Unfit. Not good enough for the father she always tried to make proud. Then he died in an accident smelling strongly of suicide. Grief disrupted by that bastard, Arthur Wallman, sullying the memory of her lost family with his Otherworld Disclosed. Calling her brother''s death an exercise in criminal stupidity and the corporation she inherited a lapdog sniffing up the legs of the highest bidder.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    She broke then. Remembering her father''s death she''d lashed out at the hated swine in blind rage. Only bad luck killed his wife and child instead. Christina had hoped he''d break as well, but he persisted in his dirty lies. When his remaining child died in a highly public accident a few years later she had nothing left but a desire to make him feel the pain he''d inflicted on her, and she passed him a stinging reminder. Maybe he did break then, but not until after selling out to Red News. A final act of vehemence tearing holes in the only living memory of her family.


    There was no going back after that, and with what little resources she had available she bought her vengeance.


    Ulf, I owe you that much at least. I''ll make you proud yet, and Sigurd will not have died for nothing.


    Close, so very close now. The city mere hours away, and how come satisfaction came with such a bitter aftertaste. What would she do when Wallman was dead, when there was nothing more to live for? Was she even in command of her own troops any longer or just a hostage held in anticipation of fulfilling the contract she signed with her paid killers? A lecture in leadership, one she barely held by being nastier than anyone around her. Should there be nothing more to command than fear? Sigurd would have said no. She was certain of that. She had met his men, even had a fling with one of them, short as it was when she understood he loved her brother more.


    Close now. They would force their way through the gates, and paid killers or not, she''d make certain they didn''t suffer unnecessary casualties this time. The hired scout had been a better teacher than he ever knew, and maybe, just maybe, there was yet time to earn more respect from her men than could be won by fear and payment alone.

 Chapter nineteen, Closing a Deal

    A large part of the fields surrounding the road leading out of Belgera had been turned into a temporary town with wagons instead of houses, and that town was soon becoming the major market in the capital.


    At first Harbend had been afraid local merchants would turn sour, but it was all too evident that resuming trade was something all had longed for. He received almost no complaints at all, and the few reaching him were mostly about traders celebrating their stay here too lively. A couple of fights over girls were inevitable, but as the reveling men brought more money to empty coffers the innkeepers only sighed, cleaned up the broken furniture and happily counted the money Harbend paid for the damage.


    As furniture, cloth and instruments found their way into the capital a steady stream of metal bars, sharp blades, horse shoes and a multitude of farming tools, all metal, went in the opposite direction. The mechanical devices Harbend bought in Verd paid off handsomely, as did the brandy and the furniture from Erkateren. With the wares he bought in exchange he was certain to make enough profit selling it back home to pay one full years rent in advance and still have his wagons and horses. One more caravan and he''d be able to pay back the money he borrowed from Arthur and keep a modest fortune enough to buy goods for a third.


    The traders from Ri Khi would be better off. Many of them had brought their own wagons and goods they had produced themselves, as was the case with those from Erkateren who dared the journey. The thought didn''t bring any dismay to Harbend. He still needed each caravan at least a hundred wagons strong to be economically sound, and the best way to keep numbers up was to have traders returning a lot wealthier than when they departed.


    Right now he needed to make sure they had everything they needed for their safe return to Erkateren and Keen. And safe meant increasing their escort. He''d already paid Captain Trindai and Nakora several eightdays in advance. Armed soldiers were better at guarding money than he was.


    His mind wandered to a picture of Nakora and laughing children. Wishful thinking to say the least. It didn''t matter. He wanted to show her Verd and Hasselden, and he longed for an opportunity to settle down somewhere with her at his side. She returned his feelings, and if he didn''t anger her too much, well maybe, some day.


    Harbend walked through Downtown in search for the traders he''d assigned command during his hunt for Arthur. They retained some of that role even after he returned, and he wanted to plan the journey back with them. With some luck they''d all be on their way home within an eightday.


    He hoped for a short meeting with the traders. Arthur was expecting him for some kind of meeting planned at late afternoon or early evening. Harbend wasn''t about to miss that. It probably had something to do with Arthur''s spending time with Karia, and Harbend was curious what it was all about. One thing was certain with Arthur. There were few boring moments when he got an idea and decided to carry it off.


    Harbend grinned and a woman made a surprised face as if he''d addressed her. Harbend twisted his grin into a smile and bowed, but his mind was elsewhere. There were few boring moments whenever Arthur was involved. The man had a way of getting involved in interesting events even if he didn''t intend to. Outworld must be an exciting place to produce men like Arthur. Maybe one day Harbend would be able to visit it himself. He smiled at the thought and made himself ready for his meeting.


    ***


    A few others! Damn Karia! It had to be the entire city council in the room. Of course Karia himself wasn''t anywhere to be seen. Well, it was too late for second thoughts now.


    Arthur took a deep breath in preparation for a speech to replace the promised conversation. The cunning bastard! Karia must have known all along. Hell, he probably planned it this way from the beginning. Arthur let out his breath in a long sigh. He almost wished Gring hadn''t been there. Without her he could have used his speaking no Brakish to force a smaller meeting with those who understood De Vhatic, but there would be no such escape now.


    He glared at his audience to be. All men, all old. At least they looked old, but in a place as harsh as this he couldn''t be certain. A few might even be older than himself. All of them though, that much was clear to him from reading their expressions, were far more experienced than he in matters of everyday reality of ruler ship. They led a city, or possibly an entire nation, dependent on the decisions they made whereas his experience was that of making dreams, legends and history come true to listeners wanting to escape that very reality if only for a short while.


    Arthur sighed again and waited for the noise of conversations to subside into a low murmur. He had accepted a responsibility he wasn''t certain he could shoulder, and he''d only get one chance.


    "Gentlemen," he began. "I''ve been asked to describe for you how roads and other means of transport could make your lives easier and maybe even a little less dangerous."


    Arthur watched for signs of interest or scorn in the men facing him. It was more difficult than he thought. Most of them preferred full beards hiding their expressions. Maybe deliberately, he thought.


    "Karia Graig, a scout of yours," Arthur searched for the face until he remembered that Karia wasn''t present. "came to me earlier with this request."


    "Truly his father''s son," one bearded face spat. At least one who didn''t hide his scorn, beard or not.


    "What do you mean?" Arthur asked.


    "Lord Graig has tried to convince us for decades. That he would stoop as low as to involve a foreigner I didn''t expect."


    Another face reddened visibly. Arthur could see enough of Karia in it to recognize the father.


    "I don''t understand," Arthur said, hoping to defuse the situation before it got too tense.


    "Graig estate begins two days on horseback north from here. Of course he''d want a road to further his business."


    Arthur groaned silently. So there were personal politics involved as well.


    "All would gain," Arthur tried.


    "Says you. How much have you been paid to deliver this message, errand boy?"


    Arthur didn''t pay any heed to the insult. As such went it didn''t carry much weight to one used to the far more skillful barbs thrown by rich tourists deciding that offending their guide was part of what they had paid for. He did need to counter it of course, but how? Arthur thought frantically while the smile grew wider on the man who''d proposed he''d been bribed. The answer came, and with it an opportunity to pay back the insult in a way that would benefit them all.


    "I''m not aware I''d need your money. In fact I''m certain that with the money I brought for this trip I could buy the Graig estate and yours." He had them listening now.


    "That''s ridiculous. I''m a city count of Belgera. Half the rural duchies are poorer than my fiefdom," the man shot back.


    "Ah, of course," Arthur said smiling evilly. "Belgera is a different matter. To buy Belgera I would need to dig a little deeper in my pockets."


    "Do you take us for idiots?"


    "When it comes to money I never take anyone for an idiot, especially not myself." Arthur deliberately added steel to his voice. "Make no mistake. With the money I have at my disposal I could buy this town you call a capital and probably the rest of Braka as well." He stared the man down. "But then, of course, I come from a world where good transportation is taken for granted," Arthur finished.


    He was rewarded with nervous laughters. Spreading his arms he took voice again. "I promise you. You can do this. All your mines produce stone that has to be disposed of anyway. That stone can be the foundation for a network of roads, and with the amount of iron you have available here a proper railroad is another possibility." He paused to catch his breath. "With an effective connection between Belgera and the harbor you could cut transport times between the ships and your capital to less than a day." Gasps told him he had their full attention. "You could even start building roads on the Sea of Grass, if the people there would allow you of course." Arthur stared at the faces around him. They had to see the benefits. "With a good road all the way to the mountain pass you''d never be dependent on one single route for trading again."


    There was silence for a while, but eventually one of them grasped that he wasn''t set on continuing his speech. "The cost of hiring Magecrafters on the scale you suggest would ruin us," he said.


    They were listening, but they were still not convinced. He could see it in their faces, and why should they be. He was a foreigner, even less known here than he had been in Verd.


    Ah, Verd of course. Capital of their most important ally. Keen, who''s power was defined by an enterprise in magic on a magnitude that must have been worthy of an empire. How would he make them understand it wasn''t needed? He took good communications for granted, but that was another world. Here most roads were nothing more than a well used track, a muddy hell when it rained and a dusty one when it did not. No wonder people avoided traveling.


    Arthur inhaled deeply. How? How could he possibly make them understand. How to make them believe there was no need of magic to build good roads? He searched their faces. Stern all of them, all but Harbend''s and Gring''s. Arthur smiled despite himself. If he could identify Gring''s different expressions he must have grown used to her presence indeed.


    "I tell you that you stand to gain immensely from this." He was on the verge of giving up. "Ah hell, dammit, if you could only see..." He looked at Gring and she nodded approvingly. "I''ll make you see!"


    The faces showed a bit more interest now.


    "I''m Arthur Wallman, taleweaver, and I''ll make you see what I have seen, how it''s been done, why it''s been done and what benefits a good network of communications can bring."


    Now the faces showed more than just interest. Only a few of them knew of his claim to be a taleweaver, and as such he had to be a rare novelty by himself. Now he''d promised them a tale, even though a very strange one.


    "You do have a Taleweaver''s inn here where we could go?" A redundant question if any. Arthur already knew the answer.


    "Yes." It was a thin voice, already breaking with old age. "It''s only open for those of the craft though."


    "I''m not too familiar with the procedures. May I, as a taleweaver, invite guests for whom the Weave is meant?"


    "I don''t know. You''re the taleweaver. You ask."


    That was to the point if anything. Arthur smiled. Perpetually depressed or not, he liked one aspect of the people here. They were deceptively simple, but most of it was just the dispensing of everything not necessary. Uncouth some would call them. Honest and blunt was his impression, and he didn''t mind at all. They reminded him somewhat of people he met in northern Europe.


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    "Then I think we''d better get going, don''t you?"


    There was a murmur and some loud protests, but in the end they all filed out and entered the streets.


    Arthur took the lead. He knew the general direction to the Taleweaver''s inn, and he hoped he''d recognize its exact location when they were closer. Besides, he had promised he''d bring them in as guests, and the least he could do was to find his way there. He would. He''d been able to make them listen to him now, and he''d make them see as well.


    Arthur walked along the silent streets of stony Belgera, always keeping in the general direction where he knew the Taleweaver''s inn to be. It wasn''t long before he saw the telltale sign over a door.


    He did hesitate then, but with so many following his steps he didn''t dare to show his misgivings. With an air of resolution he didn''t feel he strode to the archway. He knocked quickly so as not to allow any second thoughts to stay his hand.


    The door opened, and a man who could have been the twin to the one at the Roadhouse peered out. "Your errand?"


    "Ah," Arthur hesitated, "to Weave." he answered smiling as the obvious thing to say came to his mind.


    "Then enter."


    Arthur did as bid, but when he saw the man starting to close the door behind them he halted his steps. "They enter as well."


    "They have no errand here."


    "They do. They are to experience the Weave."


    "They do not share the profession. They may not enter."


    "I am a taleweaver. I define the profession, and I say they may enter. Now hold that door open! I command it!"


    Arthur received a disapproving stare, but the door stayed open, and one by one the city elders of Belgera filed in behind him.


    He took to the stage and waited for his audience to find seats for themselves before he spoke. "I''ve gathered you here to see for yourselves how transportation and communications made it possible for my own home to evolve far beyond what you would believe possible."


    Arthur stared at their faces. They looked as if they wouldn''t even believe he could show then anything to begin with, but he was confident enough in his own ability to know that would change.


    "First, though, you shall eat and drink while we wait for other guests to arrive."


    Arthur didn''t intend to break more with tradition than he''d already done. He waited for his meal and the pitcher of watered wine he suspected would arrive in preparation for his Weave. Thirsty work lay ahead, but first he would gather strength from his food.


    He idly wondered what kind of people would show up this evening. Some were certain to catch his interest, but he doubted anyone would make quite such a colorful entrance as Escha and Trai had done all those months earlier.


    Remembering Trai soured his elation, but he shook the thought away. It was a violent world, and the mage had chosen his way of life, and in doing so his way of death. That had never been the case with Kyoko, his own wonderful wife, or with his children. They''d done nothing to warrant their ends. That thought soured him even further, and unable to lift his mood this time he simply gulped down some wine and hoped he wouldn''t find any more reasons to sulk. The death of his family was in the past. It would never cease to hurt entirely, but they deserved more from him than his self pity.


    He ate, alone among his audience, and when he had almost finished his meal the first invited guests started to arrive. A man and a woman with the same yellow eyes as Neritan sat down right in front of him, staring at him disapprovingly as he swallowed the last pieces of food. He wondered what he''d done to aggravate them. Maybe the door man had said something to spite him. He returned their glares with an arrogant smile. They''d learn, as had all done who''d doubted his ability on the stage. Well, Kharg excepted, of course, but this was his world nonetheless, and it was a world he mastered fully.


    Arthur pushed away the plate and leaned back in his chair. Half an hour or less before broadcast. That was far more time than he''d ever needed for a holo show.


    This time he had a topic he knew by heart rather than some of the more risky attempts at teaching he''d sometimes embarked upon. Often in front of an audience knowing more about his subject than he did himself. Those times he relied on his ability to spellbind any listener with his performance. This time he only had to confer something he truly believed in. It would be a good evening, and he knew that once again he would give a show he could be proud of afterwards.


    Arthur settled down more comfortably in his chair and waited for the last of the guests to arrive. They did. He rose.


    "Honored guests. The tale I have for you tonight is one of wonders and heroism. It''s about the bravery to change minds and by doing so to change a world. You''ll learn how with simple tools and hard work my ancestors created the foundation my world rests on today."


    Then Arthur Wove. He made them watch railroads laid out on barren ground eight hundred years earlier, and he allowed them to sit in a train passing horsemen and horse drawn wagons. He showed them the network of roads connecting cities to each other but carefully edited away the disastrous consumption of fossil fuels that had followed. Earth could sell them cleaner vehicles until the day Otherworld knew how to manufacture them without foreign help.


    He knew he''d caught their undivided attention when he saw awe mixed with greed in their faces, and he even found time to smile as he Wove.


    ***


    Arthur woke with a sense of satisfaction. The previous night proved he still had every bit of his capacity well in hand. Today he''d speak with Karia. He hadn''t been invited to join the council or the Taleweaver''s inn and would want to know how Arthur''s performance had gone.


    Damn that cunning man!


    Yet Arthur realized Karia had what was needed to become part of Belgera''s ruling body one day or another.


    Arthur dressed quickly and even had time to get some breakfast before he heard the expected knock on his door. He rose and let Karia in.


    "Good morning, Lord Wallman," Karia said.


    Arthur smiled back. Thank God the man knew De Vhatic. It would have been a short conversation otherwise, at least until they managed to find Gring.


    "And a good morning to you, Lord Graig."


    "I believe we can dispense with formality now. You know why I''m here."


    "I do, and I''ll try to tell you everything that..."


    The harsh screech of a detonation hit their ears just as the shock wave punched them backwards.


    "What the bloody hell was that?" Arthur stammered.


    They stared at each other, but no one answered the question.


    Arthur ran for the window. He didn''t want to believe it. Kharg''s reach must be longer than he''d thought possible. The Khraga must be mad to launch an attack in the middle of a city populated by people who took pride in fighting Khraga in the wilderness. Here, with all the fortifications such an attack must be suicidal.


    "Damn! That Khraga has got some guts," Arthur admitted loudly.


    "Khraga? No Khraga would dare to attack Belgera. They''d die before they reached the walls, and as for jumping into the city itself the attempt would kill anyone not born human. Magecrafters of old made sure of that."


    It had to be Kharg, or could the city have become besieged by the plainsmen? Suddenly uncertain Arthur searched Karia''s eyes for support.


    Karia shrugged in response. "You know, it could be some accident. You''ve seen too much fighting lately. Besides I don''t know any kind of weapon making a sound like that, but I''ve seen the results of a careless magecrafter."


    Two muted detonations followed by yet another close by answered the question for Arthur, and the unexpected chain of smaller explosions gave him an impossible solution to who the attacker was.


    "Damn, that''s people from home."


    "Keen?"


    "No, my home. That''s the sound of modern weaponry, or rather the sound of missiles impacting. We have to find the others."


    "What are you talking about?" Karia yelled over the sound of gunfire, but he followed Arthur all the same, and together they sprinted down the stairs, Arthur leading the way.


    Bloody hell! Arthur thought. They must be really angry with my stunt to put on a show like this. Damn! I''d never believe the police to go this far when they found out where I went.


    He shook his head as he ran. He should have known better. They''d been trigger-happy when they first found Otherworld. Why shouldn''t they be now? Still, this was insane, even by military standards.


    Arthur swore as he ran. He swore at himself. How could he have doubted the military would refrain from an opportunity to behave like the idiots they were. They were, after all, equipped with weapons to substitute their ineptitude at social skills.

 Intermezzo

    An impossibility rose in front of him. Nightmare or dream, he couldn''t say. Heinrich Goldberger had dreamed about dragons as a child, but seeing one was a different thing altogether. It was huge, immensely so. Gold and silver glimmered among its scales and there was a cloud of electricity surrounding its body.


    "Human! Halt and listen!" The voice boomed through his head.


    Behind him he heard sharp cracks as soldiers fired their weapons. Heinrich braced for the blast waves, but none came. He fired his own weapons spreading armor piercing grenades in a covering arc. The dragon was no longer there and his grenades detonated in the dirt far ahead of him.


    "Cease fire!" he yelled.


    "Interesting." Another booming thought in his head. He whirled and saw the dragon behind them.


    How the hell did it get there?


    "Interesting and very dangerous." The dragon swallowed something held it its claws, and Heinrich suddenly understood it had to be one of the grenades. The dragon gulped and Heinrich followed the lump traveling down its throat, and he could see the dragon expand as the grenade detonated. "Sharp, but a bit spicy for my taste." The dragon burped and the soldier in Heinrich took command and felt much more at ease. A rude display of force. It was a language he was familiar with.


    "What do you want?" he demanded, knowing the glimmering monster didn''t intend to fight.


    No response at first. The head, larger than his body walker, came closer. "You dare asking me?"


    "I dare. Kill us or get the hell out of my sight if you have nothing important to say!"


    "I would dearly appreciate the opportunity to kill you for your insolence, but that is not the reason for my being here, puny one."


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    "So, what is?"


    "You are bold, as bold as your brethren here. One of you is acting in a way that is unacceptable."


    "Who?"


    "You call her Christina Ulfsdotir."


    Heinrich swore. Yes, the bitch was well known to act just merely within the limits of laws, and if Erwin was correct, she usually acted outside of those bonds whenever she could get away with it.


    "What about her?"


    "She has killed her way to the man you call Arthur Wallman. Now she''s spreading death in a city of humans."


    Heinrich was bewildered. "How?"


    "She has brought men like yourself, with weapons like those you carry."


    "Now what the hell! That''s forbidden!"


    "I''m glad that you share such a sentiment. My mission here is to bring you to where you can act upon her atrocities."


    Heinrich looked at the dragon. He followed its sleek body and rested his eyes on its wings. "Are you going to fly us there?"


    "That is an amusing notion, but no. I will jump you there."


    "Jump?"


    "Your mind would call it teleport. Wrong, but for all practical reasons it amounts to the same thing. Are you ready?"


    Heinrich looked at his men. One even managed to shrug in his body walker and it was obvious they had all heard the conversation.


    "We are ready."


    They jumped.

 Chapter twenty, Battle of Belgera, part one

    The silence! How could it be so silent after that horrible sound?


    He stared at the rubble where once the gates to Belgera had stood. Bodies twitched there, mouths open in moaning, some screaming and yet all mute. He heard nothing. The world was filled with dust, smoke and above all, silence.


    It was market day, like all other days since the caravan arrived, and he needed to get to Downtown. He had good coins in his pocket, borrowed from his sister, and if he didn''t go he''d lose an opportunity to make a good deal. He didn''t want to do that.


    Furniture from Erkateren. He must buy a new bed, and a cupboard to go with it. Elina would want him to, and the children were grown enough to have a bed each rather than share one. They would be so disappointed if he failed to come home with one.


    If he could only pass that wall of silence.


    Something wrong with his legs. Strange. He couldn''t see his legs. If he could but find his legs he might yet have time to reach Downtown before someone bought his bed. He had to find his legs. Elina wanted a new bed, and he had good coins in his pockets.


    ***


    "Mama, what is he doing on the street?"


    "He''s tired, dear. Now come away from the window."


    Michain wouldn''t obey, but she could have dragged him away if only she was able to close the shutters. Impossible. She needed to watch, needed to see the remains of the balcony across the street from which their neighbor had fallen two stories head first. Now his body was still, just as if asleep, with the balcony draped over his legs like a winter blanket.


    She hoped he wasn''t cold. It was still winter, but maybe covered like that he was warm enough. Tears ran down her cheeks.


    Darain, you never told me it was like this. How do you stand the campaigns? Darain, I love you. Please come home!


    She continued staring blindly out the window long after soldiers cleared away the corpse and the sharp cracks of destruction were muted thunder several blocks away.


    ***


    They weren''t well armed, but the devil spawn were everywhere.


    Hua Chang ducked another quarrel and returned the favor with a burst of needle grenades.


    Damn the bastards! Didn''t they understand they didn''t have a chance with ancient weaponry against automatic weapons? As if leather armor would do them any good!


    Idiots! They were fools all of them, just like his relatives back in China, destroyed in the last rebellion to fail bringing the nation back into the federation.


    He, at least, was fighting on the winning side this time. Not like his father taking part in the incessant wars liberating or forcing Beijing back and forth from the folds of the Terran Federation almost every generation. Currently it was Free China, and maybe it would be again when he was old. The endless cycle of liberal rule and stark oppression revolved since over a century with thousands killed each turn, and Hua, long since disgusted with the never ending wars, for the first time fought for something that promised personal gain. Not a grave benefiting but the few who ordered the peasants to attack the city, or the other way around depending on if Beijing was breaking away or not.


    Something came his way. A spear this time. Curse the fools!


    Hua strapped a crowd buster to his launcher. He liked killing defenseless humans no more than anyone else, but sooner or later someone would get in a lucky shot.


    The wall, behind the corner. High explosive shrapnel. Dirty weapon, but it would do the job. He aimed. He fired.


    ***


    "Get moving monkey food!"


    "They''re too strong, sir!"


    "Strong? You call that strong! Get your ass moving or you''ll lose the opportunity to get clubbed by a Khraga come summer!"


    That made it. Somehow the prospect of getting slaughtered by the giants in the mountains had the effect he needed.


    "You heard the captain. We regroup. Fast, you sorry bastards or you''ll earn being called halfmen, by the gods!"


    It wasn''t fast. They crawled away from the deathtrap. Rising and running was suicide. He''d seen what happened to the gate guards.


    Almost across the street now. Then he had to try burying his face into the stone pavement when the whiplash of projectiles tore the very air apart over his head. He turned. The remains of a building covered most of the street in the direction of the attackers. Collapsing walls meant death to some poor bastard in the house, but the rubble of stone was all he needed to get to the corner. They''d make it to safety yet. Just around the corner, a new defensive position, and if they survived the next onslaught he might be able to see his men following him into a summer''s worth of fighting against Khraga.


    "Strong! I''ll give you strong," he muttered as he crawled. Twice the height of a man the Khraga still gave you a decent chance to strike back.


    ***


    Trindai looked at the golden mage at his side. He was never comfortable with mages around him, but neither did he belong to the category who hated everything magic with a fervor sometimes bordering on fanaticism. At the moment he needed her peculiar abilities to help him organize some kind of resistance against whatever troops had arrived here with their horrible weapons.


    "Are they safe?" he asked.


    "Not yet. Khar Escha will jump them away from here. I''ve seen her mind. She''s mad! The only thing she cares for is the destruction of the taleweaver. Mad! Still she is like him. Where they come from they compete for the favors of the audience, and she means to win that competition by any means available."


    Once again the man made thunder roared through the streets. It sounded much like the cannons of the westerners, only much closer. Trindai forced his nerves under control again. The cannons might be invincible from the ocean where they had the advantage of greater distance, but here among the narrow streets he had a chance to lead his men to places where their crossbows could reach the enemy.


    He turned to his fellow escort captain who silently trailed their steps. "Captain Weinak, find the battle mages and have them cover the squares. We clean out the streets. Your men defend the citadel. I''ll lead charges and force the enemy to your positions."


    She turned to obey, but he could see her hesitate. It was time to drop his role. He needed her absolute trust as well as her obedience.


    "I''m Imperial Colonel Trindai de Laiden, not an escort captain. I''ve commanded raids since before you first saw a sword. I''ve orders to keep Harbend de Garak safe no matter the cost."


    "Orders?" There was still some suspicion and disbelief in her voice.


    "From the Council of Twelve. Will you help me?"


    A moment of hesitation, and then relief. "Colonel, I will."


    She ran.


    Trindai turned to the Mindwalker. "We need to move Arthur Wallman out of harms way. The Council of Twelve just doesn''t know it, so I make it an order of mine own. Madame, can you help me?"


    "A little," Neritan answered. "I can keep you away from ambushes and disorientate some of those we encounter."


    "A little? That''s more than I hoped for." He gave her a crooked smile. "Please don''t tell anyone that you''re helping us with magic. Some of my men would be, ah, uncomforted."


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    She flashed him a beautiful smile. "We wouldn''t want to discomfort them, especially not those with a past in the Inquisition."


    Trindai was at a loss of what to say. He clasped her hands. "I thank you," he said hoarsely. "I sometimes wish things were different. Maybe another day."


    "Maybe another day in Keen, but today, far away from your home." She met his gaze. "We don''t hate you. You should know that. At least not all of us do. Keen is a sanctuary. There has to be one."


    Trindai suspected she could feel his gratefulness as they walked in search for his troops. They needed to face an enemy unlike anyone they''d fought before. Outworlders, he was going to try fighting the impossible, but the thought of narrow streets and corners of massive stone reassured him a little. Maybe not impossible, but it would be a hard fight.


    "Madame, can you find out how many they are?" he asked.


    "Yes, I think so. Why?"


    Trindai nearly stopped in his track and stared at her. "To know what we''re fighting, of course, or at least their numbers." The golden mage might be able to read minds, but did she lack one of her own?


    "No, I''m not mindless, but warfare is not what I''ve been trained for."


    She definitely could read minds.


    "It''s a vast advantage to know as much about your enemy as possible before you engage in combat." Trindai thought again. "Warfare''s a lot less about dying and killing than it''s about surviving and make your enemy believe they''ll do all the dying. The best battle is when your enemy gives up with as little bloodshed as possible," he added, quickening his steps to a steady trot.


    They almost ran into an ambush, but Neritan tugged at his arm before they rounded a corner. Trindai peered around it and stared into the faces of outworlders coming their way. He barely managed to duck before something smashed into the wall where his head had been a moment earlier. Fragments of stone rained around him. He grabbed Neritan''s hand and ran back the way they had come.


    They couldn''t face those weapons without him having loaded his crossbow first. Maybe not even then, but that was a later problem he planned to solve, and to do so he needed to stay alive. Now he had to get in contact with his own troops, but first with whatever local mages were available in the city. After that, well, who knew. Battles, when they were engaged, were too chaotic to plan well beforehand.


    ***


    One down. The enemy wasn''t numerous, and each kill counted.


    It had better. Karia stared at the shredded remains of his command. They lost enough men for each street defended to make up for an entire season''s worth of fighting Khraga, and now he was fighting alongside one. Defending her, to be more correct. She carried a monstrosity of a longbow, almost as heavy as the ballistae mounted on the city walls, and was the only one able to reach the enemy at their preferred engaging distance.


    Halfmen, I''ll be cursed! She had dragged more of his wounded to safety than he cared to admit. Her curses were as vile as any he knew, but as long as her uncanny ability to sense deathtraps worked he wasn''t the one to complain.


    Threatening to eat one of his men on the spot she forced enough courage into him to make the sprint across the street when they got separated.


    Karia grimaced as they retreated, projectiles ripping stones around them as he dove for cover. He''d have his father screaming down his throat when the lord learned his son had offered free access to the capital to one of their sworn enemies.


    Gring wheeled and the first enemy to turn around the corner was flung backwards by the force of the arrow hitting him.


    Another down. Eat shit, dear father, I''ll have her as the guest of honor at our own dinner table once we get out of this. Ugly as a gherin, but by all gods unholy, does she know how to fight!


    Karia threw himself into the protection of an alley. A girl, not even in her eightyear stared at him.


    He slapped her. "Run, you piece of shit!"


    She fled.


    Whatever it takes to save a life, he thought. Whatever it takes to save this city, he added grimly when her wailing reached him through the thundering madness.


    Wiping dirt and blood from his face he recalled committing high treason a moment or an eternity earlier. Yielding overall command to a foreign soldier, signing the order with the seal of the council he''d stolen before taking command of his men could be nothing less. Who cared? The council would have a sporting chance to stay alive as a result.


    "To my side! Down the sewers! We regroup at Count Haratar''s estate."


    Karia hoped Gring would fit in the tunnels. Thank all gods she wasn''t as huge as the Khraga he knew from summer campaigns in the mountains.


    ***


    Trindai made his way to the mage hall high up in the city center. Mage Hwain did have access to some useful powers, especially in the field of intelligence. Trindai stormed through the doors and raised his voice before giving anyone inside a chance to speak.


    "Find Arthur Wallman and detain him!"


    "What?" One mage apparently had the guts to question his authority.


    "I''m Imperial Colonel de Laiden. Your city council has put me in charge of the immediate operations here."


    "Can you prove that?"


    "Of course. Your colleagues can verify my credentials after you''re dead. Now find the taleweaver and do as you''re told!" They''ll be dead before they have time to call my bluff anyway, Trindai thought grimly.


    The mage paled, and in a much more proper tone he asked. "How, and why?"


    "I want him safe and preferably a long way from here."


    "I''m not certain we can convince him."


    "Use whatever means necessary. Order him around until I can get the mage Escha to where he is. I''ll send Lord Garak as well. That man has some sense in him, and he seems to be a friend Arthur trusts."


    "But does he trust you?"


    "I don''t need Lord Wallman''s trust, only his obedience. Bully him! He expects me to behave like one anyway. I''m a soldier after all. Muscles instead of a brain and all that. Use it!"


    Trindai growled. He wasn''t used to explaining his orders more than once, but mages apparently belonged to an especially dense part of humanity. Too much time spent learning theory and too little thinking of how to put it to practical use he guessed.


    Trindai headed for the door without waiting for his orders to be obeyed. They would be, of that he was certain now. With a bit of luck the mages were more scared of him than the outworlder enemy on the streets, and he wasn''t about to change that now when they were finally forced into action.


    The enemy, Trindai sighed, would be his problem. That and the losses inflicted on his men. He cursed his bad luck, but it was an obvious risk coming with his profession. He wondered if the golden mage had truly believed him when he said a good commander avoided all battles not necessary.

 Chapter twenty, Battle of Belgera, part two

    "What do you mean leave Belgera?" Harbend asked.


    The golden mindwalker stared back at him, into him, walked unseen lanes in his mind and crossed borders of privacy with an ease Harbend would never forgive.


    "You will obey me! Escha is on his way, and together the two of you will remove the taleweaver from this madness."


    Futile as it was Harbend still clung to the remnants of his dignity. "But the caravan? Nakora?"


    Again Neritan sang in his inner world of thoughts. There was a sense of a memory lost, as if something important had been stolen and then even that was ripped out. Pain, but no recollection of the reason.


    Harbend left the building with a pulsing headache. A feeling of urgency nagged at the edges of his mind, as if he had forgotten something important. Then truth flashed through him. He had to find Arthur and make certain he was jumped away from the capital turned battlefield. Aghast he hadn''t thought of the possible repercussions of a dead taleweaver Harbend ran in search of Escha. Gods! Better a late revelation than none. He shook his head wondering why no one else had come to think of the need to evacuate the taleweaver.


    Now, if he could only find Mindwalker Hwain, locating Arthur shouldn''t turn out too difficult.


    ***


    There was fighting a few houses down the street. The men of Belgera had gathered and charged their outworlder enemy. A storm of outworlder weapons screeched. Not even the shrill cries of men cut to shreds managed to be more than barely audible over the constant hammering of gunfire.


    Trindai ordered his men back. They could do nothing on the wide main street, and for all the bravery of the defenders, neither could they. The charge never even made it across the street. Just before he headed for cover Trindai could see the ghastly dance of bodies not yet understanding they were dead; arms and legs moving rhythmically to the percussions of outworlder thunder.


    Trindai ran down a side street with a group of his men following him. Behind him the shattering roar continued. There was nothing he could do for the dying defenders. They attacked the outworlders with swords, daggers and spears.


    Two thousand had died ten years earlier home in Keen charging over an open field. On the wide streets and squares here the outworlders ruled supreme.


    A woman ran out from a house, cradling a child in her arms and followed his group in search for safety. Trindai could see her face white with fear, but there was no safety where he was heading. They quickly left her behind. In battle he had no time herding civilians.


    He turned left at a square and followed another main street. Several houses uphill he saw half of Nakora''s troops positioned behind a barricade of furniture, doors and bed clothing.


    Idiots! That''s a deathtrap, not protection.


    Trindai heard screams behind him. The outworlders must have caught up with some of the civilians trying to escape. No matter how well equipped the outworlders were they were not very disciplined, firing indiscriminately at anything they saw. He wouldn''t have time to regroup with his men if he tried to take them all the way to the barricade.


    "Colonel!"


    Trindai threw a sideways glance. Ah, Major Terwin, excellent! And he has a group with him. "In here! Load crossbows! Lose at will when they pass!"


    He turned sharply to the right and unhooked his crossbow. They would get one chance at the flank if the outworlders stormed blindly ahead.


    Waiting was, as always, unnerving, and cold. Running had been hot work, but winter made itself remembered as they prepared for the ambush.


    Nothing, no gunfire, no running steps. Just an eerie silence broken only by far away wails when survivors discovered the destruction the outworlders had wrought. Then a dull boom shortly followed by a sharp explosion. It was repeated twice. Trindai waved his men back as he crawled back to the main street.


    Peering to the left he saw the outworlders taking potshots at the barricade with a large gun, almost like a raider ship from the west. Within range of a crossbow from where he was. The mercenaries from Ri Khi were too far away from the gun emplacement. Not even the over sized crossbows they used could cover the distance. Trindai waved his men to him.


    "To the left. Nine men, one raider gun. On the street, two lines, one volley and back here. Go!"


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    They rushed out on the street, two groups, one group kneeling and one standing behind. Sixteen quarrels flew and they scrambled back to safety, but not before the attackers had taken a toll. Terwin dragged a wounded soldier to safety.


    Darkness! Did we get any? Trindai peered around the corner. Yes, three down. Then several more outworlders came into sight and they started advancing up the street continuously firing blindly ahead of them.


    "Fall back!"


    They retreated. Two men fell. There was nothing they could do to match the superior weaponry available to the outworlders.


    Trindai swore as he sprinted to relative safety while outworlder weapons tore chips of stone from the wall above his head. He''d already lost five men trying to rescue Nakora''s troops from getting annihilated.


    Lazy mercenaries. You should have trained when you had a chance.


    A few more steps brought him over a heap of rubble and he threw himself flat on the other side of it. There had been fighting here as well. A flash of fire told him they had managed to lure the enemy into another ambush. The battle mages Neritan must have led here quickly had to retreat when weapons were trained at them.


    A sudden roar sucked all breath from Trindai. When he came to his senses again something heavy fell on his back. He grasped behind him and held an arm in his hands. The rest of the body was gone. Dizzy from the blow Trindai groaned, dizzy and weak from having had all breath beaten out of him.


    It doesn''t matter if we''re better trained. We can''t stop them.


    Another detonation threw him backwards and he crawled behind a corner after he landed. It was protection of sorts he noted, but not for long. The outworlders had weapons that could tear down a building.


    There would be no escape from a battle he had already lost.


    ***


    Harbend ushered Arthur inside a room where Escha already waited.


    "We are leaving."


    Arthur stared at his friend. Hardly explanation enough for what was happening. Behind them he could hear running feet closing, and he had a brief moment to wonder who had followed them through the maze of corridors before Harbend spoke again.


    "Can you jump us from here?"


    "I can," Escha answered with a calmness sounding very much out of place in the madness the city had become.


    Arthur stared at the men in bewilderment.


    "What''s going on?" he demanded.


    "As I said, we are leaving."


    "Not without me!" a female voice called. Chaijrild, it was Chaijrild who had followed them. She was the last additional disturbance Arthur needed at the moment.


    "Keep her out of this!" Harbend said. "We have to leave the city. Neritan''s orders."


    "Why?"


    "Do you care to question her reasons to her face?"


    "I''ll bloody question anyone I want! That''s people from Earth out there. Makes it my problem." I can Weave the damn troops into submission. I have to try. Arthur made as if to leave, but Harbend held him fast. "Let go of me, damn you!" Arthur yelled and started to break away from Harbend''s arms. The trader was simply too small to resist Arthur''s heavier build.


    "Escha, can you jump us to a Magehealer?" Harbend asked between heavy breaths, but he never let go of his hold.


    Arthur saw Escha''s face over Harbend''s shoulder, an expression of grim determination growing.


    "I can. Do what you must."


    Harbend''s grip broke and Arthur started to turn. Then there was only a fiery pain spreading from his stomach. He looked down at the dagger where Harbend had stabbed him. The trader twisted the dagger. There was a shrill scream from the doorway. There was darkness.

 Intermezzo

    They arrived.


    Heinrich was disorientated from the dizzying experience. Then reality came crashing down on him. A grenade tore away the rooftop across a small square ahead of him, and he could hear the smattering of small arms fire. Suddenly a spear of fire stabbed into a corner of the square he couldn''t see and he ordered his men to spread out.


    Another explosion removed the wall behind him and he knew where the gun must be placed. He turned in time to see another line of fire streaking towards the hideout he was targeting.


    Heinrich was striding out into the square when one of his men started to launch missiles into the gun emplacement. The roar of explosions had yet to reach his ears before he joined the onslaught with a barrage of antipersonnel high explosive rounds aimed at the gunners he saw crouching in the corner. They went down, but not before a missile impacted in a body walker, tearing machine and soldier apart.


    "Cease fire!" Heinrich raised his visor. "Cease fire!" he repeated. "Status?"


    The whizzing sound of a body walker came up behind him. "Joseph down, sir."


    "Anyone else?"


    All reported in. All but Joseph. He would never complain about broken rules again. Heinrich blinked away tears from his eyes.


    Damn! All the way here and we get killed by our own. Bitch! I''ll get you! "Bitch, do you hear me? I''ll get you!"


    ***


    When dreams come true you wish they are not nightmares. When dreams came true, they were. Marching down the streets of Belgera in search of an enemy. Seven demons from hell striding through opposition and bystanders alike. Whoever raised a weapon against them went down in a hailstorm of grenades -- those who fled lived to tell about the nightmare when outworlder justice was meted out in the fortified capital of Braka.


    Such was the harsh wrath of the metal wraiths that children and soldiers alike ran from the apparitions among them. The mages, even the proud battle mages of Belgera, fled when facing the rage of the outworlder demons, and that had never happened before.


    ***


    Heinrich had ordered his men to rest, but he was still wandering aimlessly around the streets in his body walker an hour later when he finally found Christina Ulfsdotir.


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    She looked smaller than he had expected. Far from the monster who''d awakened the battle rage in his assault group. Tired and scared, stumbling along a street as if sleepwalking with empty, unseeing eyes. Unreal it would all end like this.


    A voice disturbed his thoughts. "We''ve been told she''s your responsibility." A monster out of legend came out of the shadows and Heinrich swirled, weapons ready to fire. The clicking sound of barrels slowly rotating echoed between the houses. Yes, it was the monster who had spoken. Larger than a gorilla but upright in a way no monkey was. Potentially a threat.


    "I''d advice against attacking an ally." That voice came from behind him.


    Heinrich decided to lower his weapons. The fury fueling him earlier was long since gone. "Who are you?" he asked into the air, not even bothering to ask why he could understand their language and even less to question why a hairy, giant ape was an ally.


    "I''m Imperial Colonel Trindai de Laiden." The voice became a figure as a man strode to stand beside the over-sized monkey. "She," the man pointed at Christina, "is an outworlder renegade. We demand that she be extracted and put to trials. We also demand that she never returns here." Middle aged, still strong and with the airs of a veteran. Torn clothes showing he''d taken part of the battle here earlier.


    Suits me, Heinrich thought. "She''ll be tried on Earth."


    "Acceptable. Just make sure to get her out of here as fast as possible."


    "I will." Heinrich kept his attention on the officer, but it was impossible not to glance at the monkey towering behind. "Who''s you ally?"


    "I am Gring ghara Khat and I don''t need a halfman to speak for me."


    Heinrich threw Trindai a bewildered look but only received an amused smile in return.


    "No offense meant, sir," Heinrich said uncertainly to Gring.


    Gring bowed. "I''m not offended. How could I be by one who needs armor to stand straight?"


    Heinrich shook his head. "If you excuse, I''ll take care of the newscaster now," he said before scooping up Christina Ulfsdotir in his arms. "Hello sweetie. You''re going home." He saw the hatred in her eyes. "I always preferred Red News anyway," Heinrich muttered. It was a petty revenge, but why not. "Now they''ll give decent coverage to your former markets as well. I''m sure you''ll be able to watch it wherever you''re dumped."

 Chapter twenty one, Homecoming, part one

    A swirl of wind and a sense of power everywhere. It was like when they had jumped to Gaz, but much, much more powerful. He wanted to throw up and then the sensation was gone. They were -- elsewhere.


    He stood on a shining platform. It looked like glass, a deep blue and green glass almost alive with faint stars slowly blinking inside. Harbend looked up. They sky was overcast so the lights did come from inside the platform. Warmer than in Braka as well.


    "Where are we?"


    "Your home. This is Nachi."


    "You jumped us to Khi?" Harbend croaked.


    "I am, as I have said, the greatest Transport Khar living." There was neither irony nor boast in his voice, just a tired quality as if he''d been forced to explain the obvious once too many.


    Harbend shook his shock away. "Arthur, when he wakes?"


    "I''ll fetch a Mindwalker. He won''t remember," Escha answered.


    They jumped again, and this time Harbend recognized the magehealers'' quarters seen through an open window. They were inside a room and an old man was rising from his chair with a stunned look on his face. Arthur was already stretched out on a table, dagger still protruding from his abdomen.


    "Heal him! I shall pay," Harbend barked. He didn''t have time with explanations.


    The Magehealer complied.


    ***


    They were standing on a glassy platform. Arthur couldn''t place the sense of disorientation he experienced. It was as if he''d slept, and even though he understood they must have jumped he had no memories of how it had happened, only fragments of a dark dream. He shook his head and turned to Escha.


    "We are going back to Keen, I think," Harbend said. "I am sorry, but the taleweaver must publicly be known to be safe before Keen sends soldiers to the Sea of Grass."


    Arthur nodded absently. He needed to go there as well. With his reputation he might force the Terran Federation to stop any escalation of their military intervention. Even if it meant being forced back to Earth.


    Escha grimaced. "You are going back to Keen. My kind is not welcome there."


    That was as clear a farewell as it could be to Arthur. "What will you do now?" he asked uncomfortably.


    Both men looked at each other for a long time, and Arthur could feel that Harbend beside them didn''t dare breaking the silence.


    "After I have jumped you to Chach?"


    "You don''t have to jump us from here, but yes, after we part ways." Should have known he knew De Vhatic all the time, Arthur reflected.


    "I will..." Escha hesitated, and then he grinned, face shining with genuine happiness for the first time in months. "With the money I receive after Trai, blessed be his memory, I''ll become my own master, and you, Lord Garak, will pay the full fee for the transport to Chach."


    "I would have it no other way," Harbend answered. "Master Escha."


    "I''ll become Escha er Khanai, no longer slave, and with the money you pay me I''ll buy myself a slave to do my biddings and train."


    Arthur looked at him in dismay.


    "Lord Wallman. This is not Earth, nor Terra, or what you call your strange worlds of home. This is Khanati, and what''s proper here is what I''ll do. I''ve seen for myself how those you''d call free are treated."


    Arthur guessed what he meant. "But that was people from Ri Khi demanding those executions. I saw nothing of the sort in Keen," he protested weakly.


    "What''s proper in Keen is not the rule followed in Ri Khi, and it''s not the rule in Khanati. Maybe one day the rules will change in Khanati as well, but until then I''ll take my responsibility as a free man."


    "You still haven''t told me what you''re going to do." Arthur said, unwilling to continue in the direction the conversation was taking.


    "I''ll teach. I''ll teach those with the gift how to use it, but more importantly, I will teach them when to use it."


    Arthur clasped Escha''s hands. "I don''t have to like all ways of Khanati, but I respect you. Always know that! I expect you to take better care of your slaves than we did of our fellow traders that night."


    "Always."


    At least Harbend had the decency to look uncomfortable, Arthur thought. All of them needed to learn something from their experiences, or else the cost would have been in vain.


    "What happens now?" Arthur asked and shook some of the dizziness away. He gave Harbend a suspicious look. "What happened?" Arthur asked again.


    "We jumped," Harbend answered, but he averted his eyes in a way Arthur didn''t like.


    "There were soldiers from my home back there." Arthur frowned. There was something he didn''t remember. "It was my responsibility forcing them to stop."


    "It was Lord Garak''s to prevent you from dying while trying," Escha interjected. "The decision was taken from you. You have no reason to put blame on yourself for something you couldn''t change."


    Arthur looked at Escha, and the Khar responded with a cold stare.


    "You are a taleweaver," Harbend started. "Your life belongs to the world now."


    Arthur locked eyes with his friend. "No," Arthur said.


    No, not any more. I didn''t travel this road just to become the richest slave in the known universe again. Free, finally free as I have always been. The shackles were my own doing. I''ve lived a coward''s life, but no more.


    Tension ran away from him like a dam breaking and years of frustration broke forth. He wanted to lash out but then revelation followed realization. The shackles were mine and mine alone. Freedom carries responsibility. What right do I have to punish others for my own cravenness? He sighed and straightened his back.


    "I''m a taleweaver, but my life belongs to me alone. You can''t make me Weave, only I can." He put a finger to Harbend''s chest. "I choose when to Weave and when not to. I choose to become what I am, not you and not the world. That choice is mine alone."


    Harbend bowed his head in understanding -- and respect. "You are right. I apologize. Can we undo what we have done?"


    "I have as little right to force Khar Escha to jump us back to Belgera as you have to force me to Weave. There will be no undoing. Are we going home now?"


    Harbend and Escha exchanged glances of relief. They must have shared something Arthur wasn''t part of.


    "If you want to go home I''ll jump you there by the jump towers. Well, not your home, Lord Wallman," Escha said smiling.


    Arthur grinned in response. "That would be no mean feat, but no, I''m quite satisfied if you can bring us as close to Verd as possible."


    "The jump tower at Friedhafen will be fine," Harbend muttered.


    "Do you mind if we stay for a meal in Ira? I''ve jumped far and would need something to strengthen me on the way."


    "Not at all," Arthur said. He had no idea where Ira was. He had no idea where he was at the moment for that matter. A day or so over some maps when he was back in Verd seemed appropriate.


    "No problem. It''s not like it''ll delay our journey much," Harbend said. There was still something in his voice making Arthur look at his friend.


    "What is it?"


    "The caravan. All the people. We deserted them in the middle of a battle."


    Arthur thought for a while before he answered. "Uncomfortable as it is they still have to fend for themselves."


    "But they may not know. There are people in danger there right now."


    Arthur finally understood what had made Harbend getting second thoughts. "Nakora makes a living from being in danger. You can''t take that away from her."


    An expression of dismay spread over Harbend''s face -- as if he''d been caught stealing candy in a shop. It amused Arthur that Harbend believed no one had noticed the growing relationship between Nakora and him.


    "Gentlemen, if you are ready."


    They both broke their conversation at Escha''s words. He smiled at them, and they were surrounded by the feeling of nothingness again. Four times this was repeated and then Escha jumped them down from the glassy platform they had arrived on.


    Arthur gazed at their surroundings. The sun shone from a clear morning sky, and it was already hot. He could see a walled town some distance away, and a well-trodden path led there. There was no telling him where they were, and he gave up on asking. A name would mean nothing to him without a map, and even with one it would only tell him the relative distance from Verd. Once again he felt the need to learn more about the world, and a growing suspicion a lifetime of learning wouldn''t suffice grew in him.


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    "Gentlemen, from here we walk. They don''t take kindly to strangers who jump into town," Escha said.


    Arthur smiled. "Seems to be the way everywhere."


    The walk was the first opportunity for him to calm down since their hasty departure from Belgera, and long before they had arrived at the city walls he discarded the heavy winter clothes he''d wore for so long. Wherever this was it had to be far south from Braka. It was good to be outdoors in the warmth. He''d almost forgotten what it was like, and with spirits rising he entered the town.


    ***


    The afternoon was cooler than their stay in Ira. Harbend had to pull his coat on again, but it wasn''t cold enough to merit his buttoning it up. They''d arrived in northern Chach a short time earlier, and Escha was probably already halfway back to Khanati by now. Harbend wished the mage a happy homecoming. A strange friend, but a true one in his own way. A friend with secrets as well. He''d never have guessed the mage knew De Vhatic. The language itself was anathema for anyone with the gift.


    Harbend smiled. I seem to be good at gathering strange friends lately.


    He wondered if he was as strange and outlandish in their eyes as well. He laughed at the thought, and a mixture of relief and happiness filled him as he walked to the harbor. He was still laughing when he arrived there, and more than one person he met on his way shot him the odd glance. Harbend hardly noticed, and accompanied by the sound of his feet he turned right at a pier and crossed the narrow beach until the occasional wave reached his boots.


    Harbend gazed across the water. Almost back now. Only a short fare on a ship across the Narrow Sea. It should only take a day or two, and usually the trip was safe, but with the raiders present you were never safe anywhere on the seas.


    Harbend sighed and walked away from the shore. There wasn''t any choosing left now. Tomorrow they''d cross the waters and travel a few days until they reached the magical roads making Keen so powerful.


    Maybe Arthur was right about his project for the Sea of Grass after all. Roads built power, not armies. Harbend hadn''t looked at it that way, but Arthur was adamant. He refused to believe in troops being anything but a tool for destruction. Harbend wasn''t prepared to go as far. Troops were needed to protect what you built, but he did believe Arthur to be right in that the use of soldiers were destructive.


    It had been a long journey, and very different from the sedate, sluggish march from Braka they''d expected. Now Harbend only longed to be back in Verd. He''d have liked to avoid any kind of travel for a very, very long time, but that was unlikely to happen. Anyway, dreams were for free and Harbend intended to enjoy this one for as long as possible.


    Dusk had fallen when he entered the tavern, and he ordered only a light meal in anticipation for the dinner they would have later that evening. Thoughts of coming home swirled in his mind, and thoughts of debts as well. He owed Arthur more than just wealth, and Arthur had made it clear he needed to find something, but what he hadn''t said yet.


    Harbend chose a table as far away from the fireplace as possible.


    I''m still used to the cold. Why shouldn''t I be. Yesterday we were walking the streets of Belgera.


    He sighed. Had it only been a day? What would happen to the caravan caught in Belgera?


    He ate in silence, wondering. Neritan had been all but forthcoming with information when she told him he needed to leave Belgera together with Arthur.


    Harbend grinned at the memory of how they''d convinced Arthur to show up in a timely fashion. Captain Laiden must have spent most of his impressive resources of bad will to make Arthur obey so fast. There definitely was more to the captain than he showed, desertion with his entire command from the Inquisition being the least, and when they were back in Verd Harbend would make sure to find out what it was, one way or another. If there was time, of course. Harbend still had something of a promise to Arthur to keep, even if he hadn''t told him yet.


    There would be time to worry about the caravan later, but now there was nothing he could do, and when he reached Verd he''d have to rely on couriers for information. Well, he could probably send one here with enough money to use the jump towers later. Now he could only sleep for a while. It was, after all, not that much different from the worries he had when he sent a ship with cargo to distant Khi.


    Harbend finished his meal and left the tavern for their room. He wanted to take a nap before Arthur arrived. The day had been longer than he expected. Time distortion from jumping east to west, Escha had explained earlier.


    Harbend climbed the stairs and went directly for his bed. Not bothering with his clothes he lay down and slept until the door opened and Arthur entered.


    "Sleeping already?" he said before he closed the door.


    "Not really. I was waiting for you," Harbend answered as he sat up and faced Arthur.


    Arthur looked back. "Something happened?"


    "A lot has happened, but that is not the reason. We need to talk about what is going to happen." Harbend combed the sleep out of his hair with his fingers.


    "What do you mean?"


    "We are a few eightdays from Verd. I cannot hide you there."


    "I don''t plan to hide in Verd," Arthur answered with a thin smile. The prospect of passivity apparently still ired him.


    "Are you going back home?" Harbend asked in an attempt to lead the conversation in a direction where he could get an opportunity to pay his debt.


    "I''ve given that possibility a thought, yes."


    "And?"


    Arthur didn''t answer, and Harbend found himself hanging on the next word to come.


    Arthur grinned mischievously. "There are still tales to be told and even more to be heard."


    Harbend stared at Arthur. "So, you are going to live here as a taleweaver?"


    "Yes. I believe that''s at least one reason I''m here. If possible I hope to stay here."


    "You do know that you need to exchange tales with others first?" Now when it was out in the open it was easier for Harbend to proceed with his questions.


    "No, but I suspected as much. Well, I''m used to long journeys. One more or less won''t make much of a difference. I''ll start when I''m ready I guess." Arthur smiled, but it was a tired smile.


    "I see. I shall think about how I can help you."


    Harbend made his decision then. He''d wait with telling Arthur about it until later, but the decision was made, and in a way that was a relief. There would be another journey, but this time he''d be the one following Arthur''s steps. No money made the next time they took to the roads, but Arthur had saved his family and received a dagger in his stomach in return.


    Harbend sighed slowly, and when he noticed Arthur giving him a suspicious look he turned the sigh into a deep yawn. It was easier than he would have thought and a while later he fell asleep.


    ***


    They boarded the ship early in the morning. To Arthur, who hadn''t stood upon the planks of a wooden ship previously in his life, it was a novel experience. This was more the kind of adventure he preferred, but he''d been warned that the waters were unsafe around here, and it was with mixed feelings he went to inspect his cabin.


    It turned out to be smaller than he''d expected, smaller even than the cramped quarters he got used to while still with the caravan. Two bunks and a narrow table bolted to the far wall took up most of the space. Below the bunks there was hardly space enough to stash away a travelers luggage, not that they had much of it.


    Their departure from Belgera had been far too hurried. Their flight from Belgera, Arthur corrected himself. This far very little of his travels had turned out to be uneventful in the truest sense of the word, and by now he fervently longed to be bored for a few days.


    They set sail, and to his pleasant surprise Arthur didn''t feel anything of the seasickness he''d heard stories about. Arthur snickered. He probably had told viewers about it during one of his shows. He''d told so much of what he didn''t know of from own experience during the years on Earth.


    Arthur spent most of the morning watching the harbor grow smaller behind them, getting used to the movement of the ship under his feet. There was a sound of sailing, a creaking and heaving he''d only been told about, but he had never before been on board a wooden sailing ship. The shrill shrieks of seagulls were familiar to him though.


    They were on their way home. Strange that he would consider Verd as home, but it was the only place where he''d spent some time since his arrival here. Arthur shrugged the thought away. There would be more time to decide what was a home or not later, but until then he was satisfied with looking forward to feeling the stone of the magical capital under his feet once again. Maybe he wouldn''t be extracted, but he held little hopes.

 Chapter twenty one, Homecoming, part two

    Harbend de Garak?


    Harbend wheeled, but there was no one there.


    Harbend de Garak? The voice, no, not voice, but thought came to his mind as if placed there. Ah, Neritan. She was sending him a message.


    "What do you want?" he said to the wall in his cabin.


    The caravan is safe. It was an enemy of Arthur''s who attacked. It''s been taken care of. I''ll accompany the caravan back to Erkateren. You should greet your woman there.


    The presence was reassuring, but Harbend still had questions. Neritan must have known it, bridging the gap between Belgera and the Narrow Sea, and she continued. Outworlder soldiers took care of outworlder problems. Arthur''s no longer hunted by his own. Tell him as much. Be careful when you arrive at home. The Council of Twelve knows much more than I can tell you.


    Harbend chose not to make any more questions. He didn''t know how the golden mage could have found him here, and he didn''t dare to aggravate her by asking. Knowing the caravan was safe, that Nakora was safe had to be enough.


    Harbend smiled as the presence vanished. Now only returning home remained, and at least this last leg of his journey he could spend without worries.


    ***


    There was one last surprise as Harbend learned that they were heading directly for Hasselden rather than straight across the Narrow Sea. A battle had been waged along the northern coast of the Narrow Sea, a battle the western raiders lost, and shipwrecks made the harbors unsafe. Apart from the change of destination the voyage was uneventful, with the possible exception of Arthur''s relief when he learned about how things had turned out in Belgera. Half a year together and Harbend had never known Arthur believed himself a hunted man.


    Less than an eightday later Harbend recognized the coastline they were hugging. He balanced his way to the starboard side. Only a few days on a ship, but he was already becoming used to the constant movement under his feet as the wood heaved and sank rhythmically with the waves.


    He longed for some luxuries, like a hot bath. Now that was something to look forward to. A wonderful bath with scented oils, and massage afterwards. To be able to sleep in a wide bed of his own at the time he chose, feeling as relaxed as only a good massage could make him feel.


    Harbend stared longingly at the coast. The first sign of Hasselden would be pillars of smoke from the shipyard where they repaired ships that got caught when their crews dared going sea hunting despite the risk the raiders posed. Well, some never came back, but most did as they never ventured far from the town. A few new ships were built as well, but not as many as when he''d first come there.


    The smoke pillars would have different colors dependent on if the craftsmen were boiling wood or oil.


    There! He could see the smoke now. Home! They were close enough to see it. Harbend stood on his toes as if that extra height would make him come closer to Hasselden. If only it could, but he''d have to accept over half a day of waiting before his impatience could finally be curbed. Something about the smoke caught his interest. At first Harbend thought the wharfs must be especially busy, but as they slowly came closer his curiosity was replaced by despair.


    Smoke was everywhere, smoke and soot. He fervently wished they''d taken a coach instead. Hasselden was a ghost, still burning in places and the entire harbor a maze of shipwrecks that would take a long time to clear up. It would be cleared up, eventually. Keen was too practical to abandon their southern port to a disaster, but Harbend knew, without doubt, the wounds would take years to heal, and for those still living who had lost most they would never heal.


    Arthur came up behind him. "The captain says we can''t make landfall here. He wants to go further north." Harbend hardly noticed the hand Arthur placed on his shoulder.


    "I know," Harbend said. He rubbed a hand over his eyes as if that would banish the sight. "I can see the wrecks in the harbor. What happened here?"


    "I don''t know. I''m sorry. You said you used to live here," There was silent respect in the voice, and fingers gripped harder in unvoiced support.


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    "I did. I wonder what has happened to my people," Harbend whispered, no longer able to keep emotions away. Tears crept to his eyes, and he had to wipe them again.


    "Family?"


    "No, employees. You remember I sent money with a courier when we were in Verd?"


    Harbend could see Arthur searching his mind but finding nothing. "Not really."


    "The day you asked about the farwriter," Harbend explained, knowing he was rambling. Talking was better than watching.


    "Ah, yes, the telegraph."


    "I have a storefront here. It is not close enough to the harbor for us to see from here, so I would fail to know if it is still there. I hope so, and I hope both my men are safe."


    Harbend looked across the water again, but there was nothing he could do. It would have to wait. Gods! He''d made the voyage here without being seasick, but now the sight of his first home in Keen forced bile to his throat, and he heaved and heaved. This, at least, was not of his doing, he thought when his stomach was empty.


    ***


    They made landfall later that day, but they never traveled to Hasselden. Instead they spent two days trekking inland to avoid meeting any raiders. Harbend didn''t speak much during those days. The awful homecoming had a profound effect on him but what occupied most of his thoughts were the implied threats in the message Neritan had sent. The Council of Twelve could only mean politics, and he had no wish to become involved in such matters. It was bad for business and it was sure to draw unwelcome attention to him. To Arthur as well. By now the rumors of the outworlder taleweaver had to have reached the capital.


    When they reached the highway and caught a coach for Verd it was too late for sharing his misgivings with Arthur. With Hasselden in ruins Keen was sure to have spies everywhere and the only places Harbend trusted to have no unwelcome ears was his office and the Tree.


    Arriving in Verd one late evening Harbend and Arthur made their way to the small office where Harbend had met his relatives an eternity earlier. He was back again. Back in a place he never thought he would call home, but in a sense it was. This was the home he had made instead of the one he left.


    Less than a year, a shorter journey than some he''d undertaken earlier, and in a way a more straightforward one. And still, how was it possible it felt like the longest of them all? So much had happened, so much pain and grief to fulfill a need he''d barely seen when he embarked upon the project. Now he had in a way finished it, even if the caravan had just started its long trek back.


    So good to stay here, for a few eightdays at least, but if Neritan was right Verd would be a dangerous place, and besides, he''d made Arthur a promise. He owed Arthur that much. At least that much.


    Harbend sighed and turned. "Well, Arthur, now I have been home."


    Arthur gave him a look full of sympathy, but didn''t answer.


    "Arthur, you decide this time."


    "Do I have to?" Arthur asked, no longer able to avoid speaking.


    "Yes, I am afraid so. This journey is yours from the beginning."


    "Then I say we ride for the Roadhouse, turn north to Ri Khi and gather supplies there. Might even hire an escort there as well," Arthur said and gave Harbend an amused glance.


    Harbend felt his cheeks heat. Thank you Arthur, thank you for making me remember that priceless gift instead of my misgivings. Harbend coughed to hide his embarrassment. "As you say," he responded after a while.


    "You''re the one who said I need to find a taleweaver to learn from," Arthur said. "I won''t do so by sitting in Verd, and Ri Khi is as good a start as any. Tomorrow then?" he continued.


    "Tomorrow," Harbend agreed.

 Postlude

    She was still a young woman, and very beautiful. They told her she had the most adorable accent, and she had made the most of it these last ten years. Now she was where she''d aimed for since her arrival here. The first show a success and now she only had to carry on. She smiled at the man beside her and asked the prepared question.


    "So you mean they just went home without knowing what happened to Hasselden?"


    "No. The pictures taken from a drop shuttle clearly show the fires. As you can see there''s very little left of the town center." As the man placed the pictures on the table a clip showing them was inserted on the screen. The entire town center was a smoking rubble, and shipwrecks in the harbor could be seen as well. "There''s very little doubt they knew what happened. What we don''t know today is why none of them reacted to that knowledge in any visible way. Well, it''s only been ten years and maybe one day..."


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    "I think we''ll be able to fill in that blank," she interrupted as rehearsed. "Next time, same time, we''ll have professor Nicholas Wang here with the latest updates." She shot a wide smile to the camera. It was time to round it off. "This was brought to you by Red News. You have watched the reinstallment of Wallman''s Otherworld Disclosed, a view from above. I am, as always, Chaijrild Termend, your guide to Otherworld. See you again, next time, same time. And don''t forget, never settle for a week when you can have an eightday."

 Epilogue

    Some things look like coincidence, and truly as they happen they are indeed, but what was to happen now was eventually bound to be. A few more years could have passed, maybe only a few seasons, but sooner or later another coincidence would have brought it to pass.


    The room was surprisingly well lit considering the lack of oil lamps, but apparently the intricate construction of mirrors reflecting bonfires outside the building was enough to fill the room with a warm light bright enough to read by. The flaming logs in the fireplace did add warmth, but as a source of light they were only decoration.


    Ken Leiter de Ghera, traveler, Protector of the Geralin islands but foremost a taleweaver sat at a table waiting for the storyteller to arrive. The warmth of the room, a hot stew and a goblet of heated, spiced wine made waiting a pleasure. His rapier hang together with his coat on a wooden peg behind him and he''d stashed his backpack under his chair.


    Ken stretched his legs under the table. They were still sore after his evening''s walk, a walk he remembered without fondness. Having mispronounced the name of the town he was heading for he''d fooled the carriage to drop him off at a nearby village. The walk here had taken the better part of early evening and his feet were blistered. He wiggled his toes and for a moment considered ordering a bath instead of listening to the storyteller. The spicy smell of stew quickly made him reconsider.


    "Bah! If I took this pain to get here I''ll be damned if I''m not going to hear the story." he murmured to himself and swallowed another sip of wine. He knew a town this size was likely to have a Magehealer anyway, and he had enough coins to pay for healing anything short of a broken backbone. His feet could wait until morning.


    Ken turned to his evening meal and ate with an appetite born from his unplanned exercise. When he was finished he ordered another goblet of wine and started to look around. People were arriving, alone or in small groups and from their clothing he assumed most were local craftsmen and merchants. Some were travelers like himself and at least one nobleman with bodyguards had entered the tavern.


    That makes us two noblemen, Ken thought to himself. But I hardly look the part. He grinned.


    He watched with silent resignation how the bodyguards forced a group of merchants to leave a large table in the middle of the room, and soon thereafter the nobleman sat down. The merchants grumbled but fell silent when a few coins were thrown their way. Disgruntled they picked them up but knew better than to start arguing with armed men and quickly found another table closer to the entrance. Most of the customers gave the episode even less notice than Ken, and he guessed it wasn''t too uncommon.


    He turned to watch the stage. It was facing the fireplace, and the mirrors on the roof concentrated most of the light on the stage. Made of brick and worn wood it was clearly a permanent installation, which was a good sign.


    The tavern obviously had some reputation for its visiting storytellers and he was looking forward to hearing a new story coming all the way from Nimambata. If rumors were correct, it had traveled there from Keen. Some of those rumors even said it originally was a Weave.


    Ken knew he risked spending the evening listening to a bleak reflection of a Weave he''d once Woven himself told by a mere storyteller, but even so, if the story really came from Keen it would still be a reminder of a place he hadn''t seen for over twenty years.


    Traveling there was abysmal and news from home almost never reached the lands here so he planned to have a private talk with the storyteller in the hopes of getting whatever piece of news or rumors he had scraped together.


    Ken took another sip of his wine realizing his goblet was empty and rose to order another. Doing so he noticed that the temperature had risen with all the arrivals and when the innkeeper caught his eyes he changed his mind and asked for an ale instead.


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    The innkeeper smiled knowingly and within a few moments a young boy arrived carrying a tankard so large it looked ridiculous beside his small face. Ken grabbed it, afraid the boy would spill its contents when setting it on the table. Ken hoisted it to his mouth and swallowed a mouthful of the stale ale he''d become familiar with during his travels here.


    He noted that all of the tables were occupied now, but people were still coming in, ordering wine or ale and just picking a place along the walls were they could stand.


    The light dimmed and he wondered briefly if the fires outside had burned low, but then he realized that someone had turned the mirrors so the light was more focused on the stage. He felt apprehension rising, and finally the storyteller entered the stage from behind a thick curtain Ken had failed to notice earlier.


    The man was short and deeply tanned, brown hair tied in a knot on top of his head, almost a short ponytail. The innkeeper, with the help of a woman Ken guessed was his wife, struggled with a square table they placed on the stage and the young boy who''d brought Ken his ale unceremoniously dumped a pitcher on top of it. The storyteller fished up a cup from a bag he carried slung over his shoulder and poured a clear liquid from the pitcher into it.


    "Boiled water. If you can believe it," he said smiling.


    Ken could see a couple of men smirking.


    "Well, welcome all of you, and a great pleasure it is to see so many gathered here to listen to the ramblings of a storyteller. Words that concern not us but the people who live over the ocean." He had a deep baritone carrying over the room and the noise of voices subsided to leave room for the storyteller''s alone.


    "Mine is the gift of this tale, a gift given to me by a storyteller from Nimambata who in his turn heard this tale from a man captured during a Minish raid on the coasts of the lands beyond even the Great Islands." The storyteller turned dramatically to his audience, waiting for them to feel the distance from home. "Now I have been told that in those lands there is a place called Erkateren, and in Erkateren there is a fortress never called anything but the Roadhouse."


    Ken gasped. The details proved to him the storyteller would indeed have some news from Keen.


    "This prisoner, I was told, belonged to a select group of fortunates who are allowed into a closed part of that fortress and that part goes by the name Taleweaver''s Inn. One evening he was there listening to a master storyteller, and those masters are all called taleweavers there, even though I suspect they are what we know of as dream casters," the storyteller continued.


    By now he''d caught Ken''s attention fully. When he left Geralin Goldovin he was one of only ten taleweavers living, the four dream casters he hadn''t known of unaccounted for, and he knew what a rare experience it was for most people to ever experience one.


    "Now this is the tale he heard, a grand saga from lands far away with customs unfamiliar to us. This is the tale of a hero and a king, but it really begins with his father. Now it should be known that Uther Pendragon had fought a long and bloody war."


    Ken stood up, face ashen and icy cold, slammed some coins onto the table, grabbed his gear and ran out into the night yelling for a carriage with only one thought echoing in his mind. "Holy Christ, sweet Jesus in Heaven I''m not alone!"


    The End