The Lost Star's Sea

by C. Litka

01

  The plain of Zandival spread out to the blue horizon beneath us. Ahead, the provincial capital city of the same name rose from the flatness in the middle distance. We rode the Rider dragons to within 20 kilometers of the city before the Kandivarians circled and fluttered the Rider dragons down like lumbering leaves, towards an isolated pasture. The lopemounts that we'd ride to the outskirts of the city - and hopefully back - with their attendants, were waiting discretely under a clump of trees.

  'How did you come by the lopemounts? Are you lopemount kidnappers as well?' I asked PisDore, as I warily stood by the tall mount I was to ride which, I was assured, was the most resigned and unenthusiastic lopemount of the pack.

  'Naw, we just borrow them,' he laughed. 'The folk around here are always willing to lend us some when we need them.'

  'Sort of like your road toll?' asked Py after eagerly leaping to the saddle of his mount.

  PisDore laughed. 'No, no, not like that at all. We just borrow them from friends and relatives.' And seeing a look of disbelief on both of our faces added, 'You can't capture wives from the Zandival plain for a hundred generations without ending up with a lot of relatives on this side who'll loan you a lopemount or two when you ask.'

  'Without cohesion?' asked Py.

  'My dear in-laws live a couple of leagues up the road. We visit them quite regularly. Both sets of grandparents live within a half an hour ride from here.' He spread his arms wide. 'We're all family in this part of Zandival! I dare say that anyone who's lived on these plains for a couple of generations has Kandivar blood in their veins, just as every Kandivarian has Dajara blood in theirs.'

  Py looked puzzled. 'Still, you kidnap your brides...'

  'These days, kidnapping is just a ritual. No one gets carried off without giving their consent? Oh, maybe a few bad eggs try, but if they're identified, they pay the price with their life. No, the old days of carrying off a struggling pretty maid are 50 generations gone.'

  ''Why bother? Aren't there girls in Kandivar?' Py asked.

  'Well, pretty young maids are rather thin on the ground in Kandivar. Kandivar isn't everyone's cup of tey. They tend to wander off to visit their cousins on this side and don't return. We have to carry them back. So, your young buck comes a courting on the bright side, and finds a pretty mate, if he's lucky, the usual way - she's a friend of a sister or a cousin. And we court them Dajara fashion. Only when they're ready to say yes, do we carry them off to Kandivar on your dragon - for a little while. Once the first bright shine goes off the apple of love, our wives tend to spend a lot of time with their families here on the bright side. There's a lot of bachelor of one kind or another herding dragons in Kandivar.'

  Py looked skeptical, or perhaps disappointed, so PisDore continued, 'We're not your typical Shadow Land tribe. Too many brides from the bright side, I guess. But, if you're looking to lead people to the path of the Way, you won't have far to look in the Shadow Lands. Plenty of unenlightened barbarians there. Why I'm a shining beacon of the Way when I'm in the shadows!'

  Py nodded, and smiled. 'I'm sure you are, PisDore. It takes a brave man to be a shinning beacon of the Way in the darkness of a savage land.'

  PisDore gave him a sharp look, but seeing that he was serious, smiled. 'I try. Believe it or not, I'm Teacher Tey Pot's greatest success, which tells you a lot about the Shadow Lands. Though his teachings - and 50 generations of bright side brides - have had their effect on even the most unenlightened Kandivar herder, though they don't realize it. Still, it is hard to strictly follow the Way when the bolts are flying your way...'

  Their discussion had to end as everyone had mounted their lopemounts and were ready to ride. We kept up a long, loping pace down the narrow lane to Zandival as timing was important. And time in Windvera, as in the Pela, was an elusive thing.

  We pulled up in a small wooded copse on the outskirts of the city, where the farm fields ended and the small parks of scattered country estates began. Nothing was said, but it was likely the property of one of those uncles, aunts, or cousins that the Kandivars had scattered about in great numbers. We were within walking distance of a large walled public park that partially surrounded the palace-rock of Zandival - a rather stunted fallen-rock towering above the typical fortress-buildings of the city that spread out beyond the park. Here we were met by one of the Kandivar agents who brought us the latest information and, more importantly, the time in Zandival. The further away from the hourly bells of Zandival you were, the more abstract Zandival's time became. Timing was of some importance - since it was far more pleasant to pass a few hours playing cards under the trees than huddled in a dark cave-room in the palace while waiting for the rest watch.

  The bells of Zandival were ringing in the distance, for the third time when MossRose impatiently rose and said it was time to set out. Looking up from his cards, PisDore cheerfully wished us luck, and then played his last card, winning the round and the small pile of copper coins on the saddlebag card table.

  Since PisDore and his crew were guarding the Lopemounts, I was included, reluctantly, by Naylea, in the rescue party. I wasn't all that happy myself, but I had my trusty sissy, so what the Neb.