When the River Ran Dry

by Robert Davies

  Where the forest ended abruptly on the high side of a wide glen, Landsdon appeared down a long slope, hugging the contours of a stream wandering diagonally through the high grass and islands of berry plants. Maela counted 22 distinct structures, some built above ground and crafted from ancient, blackened timbers. Others showed only hand-hewn, shake rooftops hiding a below-surface dwelling.

  Wattle pens for goats and scurrying hordes of chickens littered the grounds between proper, split-rail corrals where pack mules and draft horses rested in a mild, summer breeze. Small children chased each other, delighting in sudden, deliberate screams but the older ones shifted between chores as necessary laborers and no different than the adults in their required duties. Everywhere, the powerful smells of an agrarian world seemed to come at Ricky and Maela in a relentless medley.

  When they drew close to a huddle of two-story buildings at the center of the settlement, Bartholomew motioned for them to stop. At once, a sizeable crowd gathered, mostly to see a city dweller up close, but others were more interested in the van, inspecting it with obviously discerning eyes. Perhaps they looked on in wonder, Maela thought, or were they sizing up the machine with envy? One or two clearly understood enough to look in the right places, she noted, likely drawn to a wagon that didn’t rely on steam for its power.

  Bartholomew waved away some of the children prying between grownups for a better view, but it was clear he waited for another. At last, the group parted as Felicitas Bielmann went slowly to where Ricky stood.

  “This is a surprise, Mr. Mills; to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

  “It’s nice to see you again, Felicitas,” Ricky replied. “We’re on the way to Veosa, but I wanted to speak with you.”

  “Veosa?” she replied; “I’m astonished to hear such a thing, given your city’s relationship with them.”

  “Things have changed.”

  “I certainly hope so. Why are you bound for Veosa?”

  “We’re just looking for a friend.”

  Felicitas motioned them to walk with her, but a silent expression Ricky didn’t see told the others to follow at a distance.

  “If I may ask, who is this person you seek?”

  Ricky knew the information was irrelevant to Felicitas, but her query was an important gesture given under the guise of simple curiosity and intended to establish trust. If he balked, or fumbled with a lie, it would color the relationship immediately.

  “Her name is Valery Sharma.”

  “I don’t know her.”

  “We’ll find her when we get there, but getting through the wall is going to be tricky and we were hoping you’d be able to give us some direction or advice, since you’ve been there and you know how it works.”

  “I see. Then we may presume you’ve never visited Veosa?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Yet you said this woman is a friend.”

  Ricky felt the sudden tension and he was sure Maela did, too.

  “Well, it would be more accurate to say she’s a friend of a friend.”

  Felicitas stopped and turned. Her expression changed, suddenly blank and without emotion. At once, Ricky feared his words carried meaning he hadn’t intended. She looked only at Ricky.

  “It is unusual for city dwellers to venture so far outside the borders of Novum, Mr. Mills, and stranger still to hear you are bound for Veosa. It has been some time since I encountered anyone in your position, and I hope you will forgive my curiosity, but what has compelled you to make this effort?”

  Ricky feigned indifference, if only to ease his own unsettled nerves.

  “We wanted to see Veosa, but also to speak with Valery on a private matter. It’s nothing to do with those old issues between the cities, if that’s what you meant.”

  Felicitas smiled, just enough to demonstrate both her resolve and an unwillingness to let the matter go.

  “It wasn’t, but you must see your journey appears quite odd to us, Richard; no one goes from the cathedrals to Veosa by land anymore…unless they wish to avoid being noticed.”

  She now used Ricky’s first name, Maela thought silently, but the quiet conversation had taken an abrupt turn. Elden’s cautionary note to avoid the mag-rail trains or an air car meant something to Felicitas, too.

  “Well, flying is really expensive and the trains…”

  “Aaron Anthony sent you?”

  Ricky felt his face go red. In a mere second, Felicitas cut away the thin veil he hoped would hide their intent, but the effort proved useless.

  “Elden Fellsbach sent us.”

  Felicitas smiled and nodded.

  “I see.”

  “He thought you might be able to help us get inside the wall without causing trouble.”

  “Ah,” she nodded; “that explains much. Do you carry a message to this person in Veosa on behalf of Elden’s interests?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  “But he is a wealthy and influential man; surely he could make the trip on his own much easier than sending others all the way across the Broadlands. I wonder why he would put you to this task?”

  “I’m sorry to tell you this,” Ricky said softly, “but Elden died very recently.”

  Felicitas closed her eyes, but her expression didn’t change.

  “I hadn’t heard. May I ask the cause?”

  “He was murdered,” Maela said abruptly.

  “Ah. Well, your city can be a violent place.”

  At last, they watched the sadness overtake Felicitas, even as she struggled to hold her bearing. She turned away from them, likely to hide the sudden emotional impact Ricky guessed until they saw her wipe a tear from her eyes. She turned, speaking only to Maela.

  “That is your role in this, Detective?”

  “Yes; I’m trying to find his killer.”

  “And you believe this Veosan is the murderer?”

  “No, not her; she isn’t directly involved, but…”

  “She may tell you things to narrow your search.”

  “We hope so,” Maela replied, uncaring for the lie and unwilling to reveal the true nature of their need to reach Valery.

  “But just now, you said Elden sent you to find Miss…”

  “Sharma.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Elden left a note for Richard; he needed us to contact Valery. He knew his life was in danger, Felicitas—he understood and asked us to complete an important task for him.”

  “To what purpose?”

  “We’re not sure, to be honest. He told Richard to find you, follow your instructions and then move on. There was little else in his note.”

  “Very well. I will tell you how to gain discrete entry, but understand the Veosan people are intolerant of strangers who do not abide by their laws, especially two who have arrived from Novum.”

  “But you have been inside?”

  “Not regularly, but often enough.”

  “We would appreciate any help you can give.”

  “I may be able to help, but what you ask will demand something in return. The others in our community would not be comfortable if I gave you direction without an equitable exchange of goods, you see.”

  Ricky knew what she meant.

  “I remember, and we do have some items in our truck your people might find useful.”

  She nodded slightly toward the group and the old man moved quickly to join them.

  “Perhaps the Detective could show some of your supplies to Bartholomew while we talk?”

  “Of course,” Ricky replied and Maela understood at once, gesturing Bartholomew toward the van. Ricky waited until they were gone before turning again to Felicitas.

  “Elden said you have the secrets that will get us through.”

  “You won’t have to employ secrets.”

  Ricky followed her into a musty, communal dwelling where Felicitas lived. Furnishings were sparse and utilitarian, but on the walls, ornate, hand-carved frames held chalk or ink renderings that w
ere strikingly beautiful. Ricky went to one—a landscape of willows on the banks of a stream at sunset.

  “This is lovely,” he smiled; “who’s the artist?”

  “My sister, Grace,” Felicitas answered; “she trades them with other villages, and sometimes with your people, too.”

  “I admire her talent.”

  “Thank you, Richard; I’ll tell her you said so.”

  Ricky waited until Felicitas showed them to a small room he guessed was her private quarters and likely a benefit of her status in the community.

  “I haven’t been to Veosa in years, but you should be able to gain entry from the southern approach without difficulty.”

  “Is there something special about that particular place?” Ricky asked.

  “If discretion is your preferred method in this endeavor, the southern approaches would be best. The sky rails enter the city through the eastern portals, but if you tried there, they would delay you with endless administrative requirements and perhaps turn you away entirely, knowing you’ve come from Novum without a train pass. At a gate on the southern side of the city, and by land as well, you will appear no different than an ordinary miner, perhaps seeking supplies. When the security officers see you are from Novum, they may ask a few questions, but nothing like the reception you would get at any of the portals on the eastern side. If you are detained, tell them you have my sanction. The guards there know me, so it won’t seem unusual to them and sufficient to get you through.”

  “Why are they so relaxed at the southern approaches, Felicitas?”

  “Most land travelers come up from the mines south of Veosa, hoping to cultivate trade opportunities perhaps. At some point, all run out of the things they need to survive and they end up in Veosa. The guards came to regard them as nomadic and not a threat, so they lost interest in delaying them. On the eastern side, it’s different; those of your kind who enter there are not always on innocent missions, you understand. Most who come in from the mines have travel documents, but since you do not, it is important that you refer to me by name or they will likely deny entrance.”

  Ricky remembered Elden’s instructions, smiling with silent gratitude their journey to find Valery Sharma could end abruptly without the weight of Felicitas’ name. Maela was finished trading with Bartholomew and she joined them. Ricky turned to her and asked quietly, “Are we all set?”

  “I think so,” she replied with a satisfied smile. “Bartholomew was happy to see the selection of gears and bearings, but also some of the hand tools in the green crate.”

  “Felicitas, you were saying?”

  She nodded and pointed to a crude diagram of the city walls—two separate barriers divided by a broad lake that looked to Maela to be an overdone moat.

  “Once satisfied you are only visitors, you will be admitted with a pass to get you beyond the secondary and tertiary security stations. A grand arch through the big wall will be your last barrier but when you’re through, you’ll be free to search for your friend. From that point, there is nothing more I can do for you.”

  “I’ve always wanted to see Veosa,” Ricky said as he offered his hand to Felicitas. “I know we came at you out of nowhere, but thank you for helping us do this.”

  “It was my pleasure,” she replied, “and I am truly sorry to hear of Elden’s death; he was always a friend to this community and I will miss him.”

  “I will, too,” Ricky said.

  “Elden said this road goes all the way to Veosa?” Maela asked.

  “Yes,” Felicitas nodded; “stay on it and you will reach the barriers. Since you have a power cart, it should take little more than a week to cross the western Broadlands. When you reach the first hard road, there will be a checkpoint and directional signs; turn right and follow until you see a portal called ‘887A’. Make your entry there, but ask them for a street guide; Veosa is a confusing place if you don’t know where you’re going.”

  “Thanks again, Felicitas,” Ricky said. “Perhaps we will have time to stop and visit on the way back?”

  “You are always welcome, Richard.”

  Maela spun the van around slowly and aimed it up the hill toward the forest. In minutes, they were once again on the path and heading west. Ricky sat in silence until Maela noticed and said, “They seemed very nice, and not at all what I was expecting.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve never met an Agro, so…”

  “They can be a little hard to take sometimes, but most of them are decent people.”

  Maela nodded and said, “We have a long way to go, but we’re moving in the right direction.”

  Ricky nodded as Maela increased their speed, chasing the sun where it crept ever lower in the western sky.

  The days passed slowly and each took their turn at the controls. Occasional steam carts passed them by, heading eastward beneath wisps of thin smoke and laden with grain from other settlements, or mineral ore the Diggers pulled from open-pit mines far to the south, yet none chose to stop. At first, Maela seemed grateful for only stares from drivers as they moved slowly past, but after a while, their disinterest seemed odd and mildly insulting. Had others from Novum crossed the Broadlands often enough so that encountering one had become no special event to the elusive Agros, she wondered? By the fifth day, traffic was noticeably sparse, leaving them the sole occupant on the hard-packed road for countless kilometers.

  The pace had been mostly steady, interrupted by a few hours in the darkness each night and hidden behind a hill or stand of trees to rest. They passed the time with small talk and the exchange of personal histories, but Ricky’s description of his Walk left Maela silent and reflective. The fascination with Challenge shows, or debtors running headlong to their deaths in a Walk always eluded her and hearing about it from one of the few who survived only reinforced her belief the practice should’ve been outlawed altogether.

  She watched him as he recounted that terrible night, listening to his tone change with each memory and brutal demand placed on him by the will to survive. In his words, she heard the voice of regret for the lives he took on that terrible night, but nothing could change what had been. When the sun reached its zenith on the sixth day, they eased through the flatlands where oceans of grass stretched to the horizon in every direction. Modest stands of trees dotted the fields and within them, the occasional collective where small herds were tended as they grazed, often for just the milk and not always doomed to meet their fate on the dinner table of a nameless Upper.

  Where the road crested a gentle rise, it turned sharply around a grove of pines, signaling a sudden change from open spaces and back to forested, rolling hills Ricky guessed were the last before the approaches to Veosa. He moved quickly around the crates and containers, wakened loudly from a brief nap when Maela stopped the van suddenly. As he looked up, she pointed toward a group of men on horseback, clearly waiting at the roadside.

  “That doesn’t look good,” she said.

  Ricky squinted against the sunlight through the windscreen, shielding his eyes with an open palm.

  “Were we expected?”

  “I can’t see how,” Maela replied. “We can go a lot faster than any of them.”

  “The bigger settlements have radios, so somebody at Landsdon must’ve sent a message ahead.”

  “What the hell for?” Maela asked loudly. “We didn’t give them any grief!”

  “We only met with Felicitas and Bartholomew; others might’ve had a problem with us and made a discrete call.”

  She pulled her gun from its holster and made a quick operational check. Ricky knew better than to comment as she eased the van closer. At once, a second group of riders closed the distance with a slow canter, stopping directly in front of the truck to block their way. The tension was building, but only one dismounted and walked toward them with a wave.

  “Here we go,” Maela said, pushing a button to withdraw a side window.

  Suddenly, Ricky moved to crouch beside Maela’s seat.

  �
��Let me handle it,” he said quickly. “Agros this far out from the city don’t speak the way we do.”

  “Fine with me,” Maela muttered.

  A moment later, the first man stopped next to the van.

  “You come a ways out,” he said.

  “Long ride, that’s no makeup,” Ricky replied.

  The man nodded and moved closer, satisfied his words had meaning.

  “Joshua Latham.”

  “Ricky Mills; she’s Maela Kendrick.”

  Joshua paused for a moment, sizing up the van as it idled.

  “Nice cart,” he began. “You headed out to one of the mines?”

  “Yeah,” Ricky lied.

  “Which?”

  “Ain’t decided yet; maybe all of them. You got sibs out there?”

  “Nah; just wondered. We heard you’re aimin’ for the coast; maybe all the way up to Veosa?”

  Maela felt her face flush at the words. How could a remote settlement know of their plans, she wondered?

  “Could be, but not settled yet.”

  “Ain’t seen no one from the cathedrals since the graders drag the road after spring soak,” Joshua said, still eyeing the van.

  Ricky ignored the comment.

  “Pretty hot today; were you standing on us?”

  Joshua smiled as he looked back at his companions.

  “The sender at Landsdon, he said you was coming our way; thought maybe we could do some trading.”

  “You holdin’ good and clear?” Ricky asked, even if the answer was obvious.

  “Have to sit and chin wag, you know? See what whacks up.”

  Ricky nodded his head slowly and said, “That rings nice, but we’re slack on time, so…”

  “You ain’t heard our offer,” Joshua said.

  “We weren’t asking for one,” Maela countered suddenly.

  At once, the air thickened with the possibility of something much worse and Ricky moved quickly to head off the confrontation he knew was coming if they pushed her further.

  “Might be interested,” he said quickly, ignoring Maela’s glare. “Your hearth close-by?”

  “Just there,” Joshua answered, “other side of the hill. If you abide, we’ll show you the way.”