“Prima, as you know, is missing a staff member. One of his wagon masters suffered some chest trauma, and his heart stopped working recently. The fellow died,” the leader went on. “Prima is most upset, and misses the man, of course. And I’m sure he was a fine chap,” the speaker’s voice seemed less than convincing on that score.
“However, the man was handling a wagon and a mule that carry some particularly important cargo that’s bound for other regions, and that’s why we’re all gathered here,” the point of the monologue suddenly came around to the six people who sat in the room.
“Botton tells us that you were able to handle the mule of this particular wagon very well just a couple of hours ago, and he also mentioned your village background and your ability to travel through mountains. So,” the man seemed to pause momentarily, “we are going to assign you to an extended leave of absence for the next few months so that you may travel with Prima’s caravan up to Ivaric, and then down towards Amenozume. By then, Prima should have a replacement suitable to take your place, and you’ll be able to return to campus here.”
“So,” Silas struggled to put together the pieces of the unexpected assignment with the promise he had received from Krusima, “do you want me to go see the priestesses of Krusima immediately – to visit the caverns – before I leave with the caravan?”
Botton burst out with loud laughter, a high-pitched, staccato series of notes that Silas secretly thought sounded a bit like a mule’s bray. The other men in the council stared at the instructor, or shook their heads silently.
“No, Silas,” the head of the council replied. “We can’t send you to the temple before you’ve passed your examinations, of course. We’ll merely suspend your studies until you return.”
“But by the time I return, there’s no way I’ll be able to catch up in time to go to the cave at the end of the school season. I’ll have to wait another year,” Silas protested.
“This Council has spoken,” one of the two men who had escorted Silas spoke up. “You may have a few difficulties to overcome, but that falls in everyone’s life. In the meantime, the focus here will be on the work you do for Prima, and the good will you build for the Guild.”
“But,” Silas began, his eyes roaming from one face to another – any face but Botton’s – looking for a sign of sympathy and understanding. There was none to be found. The old men of the Council had found an easy and satisfactory solution to a problem, and Botton had found an effective way to push Silas further behind in his effort to become a Wind Word Speaker. It left Silas feeling angry.
“We’ll take you back to your room to pack up some belongings, then we’ll be on our way to the caravan, to introduce you to Prima and his crew,” one of the two escorts began to rise as he spoke.
“I don’t want to; this isn’t right,” Silas said stubbornly, standing up.
“Either you leave the Guild campus to assist Prima, and be assured that you’ll be allowed to return, or you can leave the Guild campus,” the director spoke forthrightly. “Those are your two simple options.”
Silas stood at the end of the table, his face pale with emotion. “You’re really going to force me out? You’re going to let this asinine Botton do this to me?”
“Speak respectfully!” Botton demanded sharply.
“You should show respect for your elders,” the council chair agreed mildly. “Now, you must decide. We’ve promised Prima a new staff member, and he plans to leave the village at sundown. If you’re not going to accept your duty to the Guild, we need to find a new candidate.”
“Alright. Fine,” Silas saw no alternative, at least not at the moment. He could always leave the caravan later on if he was dissatisfied, he decided.
And in the meantime, he’d pray some awful prayers to Krusima, he thought darkly to himself. He’d tell the god what he thought about making false promises. Krusima could hardly do much to make Silas’s life worse.
He walked in stony silence to his dorm room with his escort trailing close behind.
“Just pack a few basics. We’ll have the rest packed away and saved for your return,” one of the escorts told him.
Silas snorted in disgust, but packed a few items in his pack, then turned to the waiting men.
“Let’s get going,” he told them.
“I know this seems unfair; it is, for you,” one man said as they left his room and entered the hall. “But it’s good for the Guild, and it’ll be made up to you in the end.”
“Will Botton still be here?” Silas asked rhetorically. “Because if he is, it’ll never be fair for me.”
The two men were silent, a lack of argument that Silas took as acknowledgement of the reality of his opinion.
Chapter 10
Silas and the two senior Guild members walked through the crowded festive market that was pulsing with energy and activity, in the field where the trading caravan had made camp. Wagons were arranged with sides that opened up, and awnings that extended upward, creating shopfronts along grassy lanes in the field. Crowds of people shopped and browsed and socialized happily while looking at the objects – both mundane and exotic – that were displayed and being haggled over.
His escorts led him the length of the long lane of wagons, and around a corner of the impromptu settlement, to a quieter collection of vehicles that remained closed, without displays of wares. They knocked on the door built into the rear of one such wagon, and a man stooped over as he emerged from the interior of the vehicle. He stepped down and straightened into a tall and thin figure, one who’s face immediately took on a warm and friendly expression.
“What honor does the Guild offer me?” he asked with a voice that was on the edge of a laugh. His green eyes twinkled with mirth.
“You said you needed a new waggoneer, so we’ve brought you this young volunteer,” Silas’s escort placed a hand firmly on Silas’s shoulder.
“He looks positively thrilled with the proposition!” the man from the caravan laughed. “My name’s Prima, and I’m the head of the caravan; we’ve traveled the length of the continent five times now and been more profitable with every trip. Come on board and learn the life of luxury and ease we enjoy.”
His self-depreciating manner made evident that he spoke in jest, and he was including Silas as an insider who knew the meaning of the joke.
Despite himself, Silas instinctively liked the man. Prima stuck his hand out to shake in greeting, and Silas accepted the grip.
“So you’re a regular wizard at handling animals?” Prima asked Silas directly, his eyes examining Silas as his fingers remained wrapped around Silas’s hand.
“Not really,” Silas answered. “there were some farm animals in my village, but my family didn’t have any ourselves.”
“So you don’t know how to handle mules?” Prima asked. His hand still gripped Silas’s. “I was told I’d be given someone who could step right in and help,” his gaze shifted to the men who had brought Silas.
“Minneota, step out here please,” Prima tilted, his head back and spoke loudly into the entrance to the wagon behind him.
“Good friend, we understand the boy is accomplished and will serve you well,” one of the escorts replied defensively.
A woman stuck her head out of the wagon. Her hair was long and dark, curly and springy so that it spread into a mane that hung down to her shoulders. Silas had never seen anyone with such a full head of hair. It was attractive and mesmerizing. He studied it intently, then looked at the woman’s face. She looked familiar, though he couldn’t imagine why.
“Do you want me to have a portrait painted of her for you?” Prima asked Silas, making the boy blush and return his attention to the caravan leader.
“He’s the one, Prima. Handled the mule like he knew what he was doing. Got out of the way when it let loose with the messiest spray I’ve ever seen! You should have seen the one that took it all!” she cackled with a voice that was rough and ill-mannered, at odds with the refined appearance that Silas fancied her
hair gave her.
“That man was madder than a bear in a beehive with no way to escape!” she laughed again.
Prima looked at Silas, then at the two men escorting him. He studied them, and his eyes narrowed.
“Your grip tightened quite a bit when Minnie told that story. It wasn’t a happy tale for you, was it? Is that why you’re being exiled to the caravan?” he asked Silas as he finally released his hold on the boy’s hand.
Silas nodded. He wanted to speak up to answer, to tell the whole story of the indignity and discrimination that Botton had heaped upon him, but he wasn’t going to do so in front of the escorts who stood off to the side.
“Where are you from?” Prima asked.
“Brigamme,” Silas answered simply, causing Prima’s eyes to widen in surprise.
“Really? You want to be a Tracker and a Speaker? That’s an interesting plan,” the caravan leader murmured. “I could see some real value in that. I wonder why no one’s tried it before.”
“I couldn’t track, and now I won’t get to Speak,” Silas shook his head. “I’m going to be an animal handler,” he said sourly.
Prima surprised him by throwing his head back and laughing loudly. “We’re the worst of all possible jobs, are we?” he laughed again. “You two are dismissed. I thank you for the jewel you’ve given me. We’ll take young,” he paused, “what’s your name?” he asked Silas directly.
“I’m Silas,” the boy answered.
“We’ll take Silas. You’ve held up your end of the bargain. Go back to your Guild and tell them I’m satisfied,” Prima snapped his words off crisply as he spoke to the escorts.
“Minnie, take young Silas here around to find everything he needs. We’ll be pulling out tonight, so have him prepared,” Prima spoke in a softer tone as he addressed the woman behind him.
“But I thought,” she began to interrupt.
“Do as I asked,” Prima reconfirmed.
“You go with Minnie and pay attention. You’ve got a lot to learn,” the caravan trader finally spoke to Silas. “We’ll see how this turns out,” he spoke in a softer tone, more to himself than anyone else.
The two men from the Guild looked at one another uncertainly.
“Good luck, young Silas, we wish you well,” one of them said.
The other nudged his companion with an elbow in the ribs.
“Caravan master, we are glad we were able to serve,” he said, before they bowed, then backed away, turned, and left the wagon, disappearing into the flow of passersby in the main course through the temporary marketplace.
“Come along, and welcome to the caravan,” Minneota told Silas. “Let’s take a walk.
“Have you ever been branded before?” she asked as Silas took his first steps with her.
“What?” he asked in startlement.
“Minnie, don’t scare the boy!” Prima admonished the woman, with a laugh. “There’s no branding, don’t worry Silas. That’s just her strange sense of humor.”
Silas cast a sideways glance at the woman with the exotic hair, while she laughed and blew a kiss to Prima. She was unlike anyone he’d ever seen before, entrancing with her bold sense of humor, her unrefined manner, and her attractive physical appearance.
“Let’s start at the most important place, the animal stables,” she told Silas. She took his hand unexpectedly, increased her pace, and started to weave through the crowd of shoppers.
“Give it back, Moochie,” she snapped at a man as she passed him in the throng a moment later.
“He just dropped it. I was going to give it back, honest,” a shaggy-haired man with a stoop replied sullenly.
“Well, do it,” Minneota snapped back, then she swiveled her head to observe the thief’s actions as she continued to lead Silas.
“He’s new to the caravan. We just picked him up on the way from Barnesnob. I’m not sure he’ll still be with us when we get to Ivaric,” Silas wasn’t sure if she was speaking to herself or to him as she muttered the words.
“Now,” she led him between two wagons with a sudden swerve out of traffic, just as Silas thought he spotted Jimes and Lenee strolling among the vendors in the festival space, “here’s our stables, she gestured to the square formed by a formation of posts and cables that held a large number of animals enclosed together. “And over here is the animal you may recognize from earlier today; he’s the one with the white blaze on his chest.
“His digestion goes funny if you give him the wrong mix in the morning, in case you hadn’t noticed,” she spoke with a straight face. Silas had been staring at the mule, but turned to look at her.
“Oh, you did notice?” she asked slyly.
“That’s why I’m here. That instructor got me exiled,” Silas answered with a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Because of what the mule did.”
Her expression changed. “I’m sorry to hear that Siler,” she said sympathetically.
“My name’s Silas,” he immediately corrected, surprised that she had mistaken his name after hearing it several times.
“I know,” she gave a cunning grin. “I just want to keep you humble. You may think that you have problems, but the fact is, you’re just a hired hand in a trader’s caravan, and no one’s going to care. You’re going to be invisible to the rest of the world. Any problems you think you have, any injustice you think you’ve suffered, any slight you think you’ve received – they’re all missed, ignored, and forgotten by the rest of the world, because you don’t count for much beside animal handling.
“So forget about your bad luck, and focus on your animal and your wagon, and doing your job,” she bluntly put him in his place, shocking him with her plain talk.
“And don’t worry, because the rest of us in the caravan will actually care for you and watch out for you,” she spoke after a pause that let her words sink in. “We’ll be your family now.”
Chapter 11
Minneota spent the rest of the afternoon taking Silas around the caravan site, showing him the wagons that were offering goods for sale, introducing him to people who worked for Prima on the caravan – his new family, as she called them – and showing him the wagon that he would be responsible for operating along the roads of Ellan Sheeant as the caravan traveled from nation to nation.
Silas’s wagon was not offering any goods for sale to the public.
“That’s not just because you weren’t here to set it up and make your pitches,” his guide explained. “This wagon,” she patted the wooden side of the contrivance, “is mostly carrying some custom-ordered goods to Ivaric; it doesn’t have much of anything to offer to the public. And it’s fragile to boot.
“We wouldn’t ordinarily ask a rookie to handle a wagon like this, but it would be disruptive to try to assign you to a different wagon, then reassign that driver to this wagon now, in the middle of the session – at least, that’s what Prima says,” she explained. “So this is your wagon.”
“What’s in it?” Despite his dissatisfaction, Silas was curious about the contents of the vehicle he was assigned to.
Without speaking, Minnie untied the knot of a leather thong that held a large piece of canvas in place. She lifted a corner of the loosened flap of heavy canvas – canvas that had been waxed to become waterproof, Silas saw.
Beneath the covering was a wooden crate, one built with widely-spaced slats for its side, revealing the contents of the casing. Inside the narrow crate were fabric covers, which Minnie quickly slipped open along an outer edge, to finally reveal the cargo that was contained in the first of the many narrow crates that were tied securely into place in the bed of the wagon.
There was an ornate, gilt frame, wide, deep, detailed with sumptuous patterns of plants and birds. Beyond the frame, giving it its purpose, was the shiny, reflective surface of a mirror. The crate was large, indicative of a large mirror, one that would be large enough to let a person see themselves from head to foot.
“It’s a beauty, from Renitia, made in the factory there by the b
est artisans on the continent,” Minnie explained casually. “The Scourge of Ivaric commissioned it and we’re delivering it to the filthy beast. We really should have traveled straight from Barnesnob to Ivaric, but Prima insisted we could make a little extra money by detouring up here into the mountains and trading along the way,” she voiced her candid opinion. “There’s a matching set of them mirrors, and some extra small ‘uns as well,” her hand fluttered to indicate the other crates in the wagon, then she let the canvas cover fall back into place.
“And it’s your job now to make sure they travel safely,” she looked Silas in the eye. “Which shouldn’t really be too hard,” she added in a more relaxed tone, as she began to lead him away from the wagon. “Prima may be greedy, but he’s no fool, and he’s the best caravan leader working the ways of Ellan Sheeant. You won’t have any rough roads to handle.”
They walked around and among the wagons, Minneota describing so many things that Silas lost track, and it all became a blur, while the crowds began to dwindle, and the sunlight began to diminish.
“Alright folks, it’s time to get on the road!” Prima’s voice suddenly thundered. Silas saw merchants cease selling their wares and start packing their wagons for travel.
“You don’t have to hurry,” Minnie assured him. “Your wagon rides in the back of the pack, so you can wait to fetch your mule.” She left him then, hurrying off to tend to her chores.
Silas worked his way over to the corral of mules, and waited as the other drivers collected their animals and led them away from the posts and cables. His mule with the blaze on its chest remained standing placidly on the far side of the corral. When more than half the other animals were out of the restricted area, Silas circled around and hopped over the fence, using a stack of hay bales to help him ascend the cables so that he could land inside the enclosure and take hold of the mule’s bridle.
The animal was reluctant to move. Silas tugged at the leather straps of the bridle, then pulled harder. He grabbed a handful of the animal’s mane and tried to pull it along, but in all cases the stout animal only swayed slightly in his direction, without doing more than shuffling its hooves slightly. Reluctantly, he moved around behind the mule and leaned his shoulder against its hind quarter, finally causing the animal to slowly start to move. Afterward, he led the mule back out to the wagon with the fragile mirrors, and hitched the animal to the vehicle as other parts of the caravan began to move into place.
The Mirror After the Cavern Page 7