"Good journey" Leeta began.
"Well, little one, what do you wish of Aff-tug the merchant"
"I see that you are the dealer in fine pelts. My master has a particularly fine dakor which he will consider selling."
I saw she was using the same strategy that had worked--even if he did try to kill us later---with Gutan.
"From time to time I buy a quality pelt if it comes to me on reasonable terms. But, a single drakor pelt? I couldn’t even make a coat for a Resheed (a race or legendary pygmies, similar to Ireland's leprechaun) with only one drakor. I prefer to buy in lots of a dozen or more."
"Perhaps then we should wait until this shopkeeper" she said gesturing to a sign hanging above the adjacent stall. "He may have use of a single pelt." she shot back.
"No need to wait little one. It happens that this is not a busy time of the day. Perhaps I will take a moment and if the hide has not rotted since it was taken I'll make you an offer. I bought 12 drakor hides from some rivermen yesterday. Perhaps I can use another. . . "
With 23 brass and a dozen copper coins jingling in our bags Leeta and I were in good spirits as we made our way back to the taverns near the main (south) gate. Each of the brass coins was one "hist", each of the variously sized copper coins represented a fraction of a hist (i.e. 1/2, 1/3, 1/4, or 1/12 hist). Each coin bore the figure of a rampant Veeder beast on the obverse and what appeared to be a coat of arms on the reverse. The interesting thing about the arms was that they bore what could easily have been the stylized representation of a space ship! We were later told it was part of the great seal of the nation.
We took an alternate route back toward the riverfront. From balconies above us the morning wash was being hung out on lines criss-crossing above the street. Here and there a few less savory items, carelessly tossed, landed near us. Overall though the town was relatively clean. Beneath grates in the middle of the streets I could see water rushing. Apparently there was a fairly elaborate sewer system. It likely used water diverted from the river from somewhere upstream and dumped back into it somewhere below town. We rounded a corner on the street of the food venders and turned southward.
"Peter"
"PETER, LEETA!" The whispered shout came the second time. Turning we saw Lady Camille, one of our bags still strapped to her back, in front of a tavern.
"What happened to you. We looked for you for days. Are you well, we were so worried".
Our questions flew. The lady's only reply was to Shussssh us. When we stopped speaking she began.
"I stopped for a moment to adjust a bag which was falling from the load. When I turned back you were gone. I came rapidly in the direction we had been going but you must have altered course. I continued on a little but decided it would be safer to stop and wait for you. At dawn I searched the area and began to circle wide in hopes of catching you on your way down river. Two days later near sunset I was dining in a small meadow (Read this eating everything in sight), when a party of 5 beings like yourselves came upon me. Later I found they were oarsmen from a riverboat who had camped for the evening. They were looking for game and firewood when they found me.
As they approached I heard one tell the others that they should shoot with the weapons they carried because I would run from them and then they would not get any valuables that might be in these bags. Another said that since I was obviously a stray pack animal I would be tame and could be approached.
Peter, I was not sure what to do so I pretended once more to be an animal and let them approach me. One made a rope from a bit of stout vine and then they led me back to their camp. There they opened our things and divided them among those who had found me.
The one who had put the rope around my neck claimed me as part of his share. He told the others that a useful pack animal ought to bring a fair price in Mon-Ton.
The next morning they tried to force me into the boat but of course I refused to go. They tied a scrap of cloth around my look-far eyes and tried to lead me in but again I would not go. They beat me with sticks but I could not be made to enter their craft.
At last Jeramp said that he would take me back by land. The others said they needed no help to row downstream. They taunted him that I probably would not bring a price high enough to compensate him for the blisters he’d get on the long walk back. Two days ago, late in the evening we arrived here. I managed to still my fears long enough to cross the river in the larger boat.
Jeramp is waiting for the animal market tomorrow to try and sell me! I've had scarcely enough to eat since he left me here and my coat is a mess. I decided that this evening I would untie this teather and go off on my own. I was so happy to. . . Shussh here he comes"
"Fine looking beast ain't she" came a voice from the tavern doorway. She's for sale you know."
Attached to the voice was a tall human with dark hair, framing his face in greasy ringlets. A blind man could have picked him out of a crowd by smell alone. He's obviously not been in town long enough to seek a bath. One of his front teeth was broken across the middle and the rest were stained and rotting.
"Yes, she is" I replied without thinking. "We lost this creature and all the supplies she carried up river from here several days ago."
"That's just where me and my mates found her alright" he said motioning to a half dozen companions which had followed him from the Tavern. "Can you prove that she's yours. Any earmarks or brands on 'er?"
"Nothing like that but I think I can show you she belongs with us."
"I'm an honest boatman if nothing else mate go ahead".
I slipped the teather from where the Lady had been tied and moved off a few paces. "Come here Lady" I called. Without hesitation she came and stood beside me.
"That's fine mate, but can she do any thing else".
"Turn around Lady"
She did, of course, not once, but twice.
Carried away with the success of the moment I couldn't resist showing off. I just hoped Lady Camille would go along with the gag.
"This is probably the smartest pack animal ever" I boasted quite truthfully. "She can even add!”
By this time a mixed crowd of curious on lookers had gathered around us. My next trick should wow them I thought.
"Lady Camille If a hunter killed six zeraxes on Jothsday, and three more on Frenatsday how many would he have all together?"
Camille came through like a trooper. After a dramatic pause she tapped out 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9 on the cobblestones with her padded foot. A buzz of excitement rippled through the crowd and a small shower of copper and bronze coins descended on us. Leeta hurried to pick them up.
Proudly I turned back to the viking of a man who had found Lady Camille.
"You've made your point. She is the smartest beast what ever carried a load. I'll figure to keep her myself.
He strode forward and said to Lady Camille "Turn around". She stood looking dumbly at him.
"If Jaramp kills 3 zerax today and two tomorrow how many will he have?".
Lady Camille remained dumb as the proverbial post.
Jeramp was becoming irritated. "Turn around or I'll take a stick to you. . .Ya dumb beast".
The Lady remained immobile.
"Friend, Jaramp, a word", I intervened. Perhaps our performance earlier mislead you. You see, in truth took many years to teach her these simple tricks. We've been together so long she works for none but me.
My bubble burst, all my showing off had accomplished was to convince this guy not to part with the Lady cheaply. What a dunce I'd been.
"Look, she belongs to us but we could give you something for bringing her in. You and your friends have already had all the goods in the load she was carrying. How much more do you want?”
"The man what rescued her from the wilderness ought to be well paid for his efforts." Jaramp suggested. "We boaters ain't fond of walkin and I bout walked me legs off because this creature of yours wouldn't get in the boat. I won't part with her with for less than 24 hists. Not a demmit less. If you don't
like the terms we can see the magistrate and let him decide who she belongs to. Like as not he'll decide that an animal found loose in the woods belongs to the (untranslatable malediction), "gub’ment".”
Whether he was bluffing or not I had no idea but I didn't dare risk any situation that might part the Lady from us again.
"Done" I said
Leeta was already opening the pouch that contained our money. Twenty-three bronze hists we had gotten from the fur dealer, one that had been tossed by an enthusiastic bystander during the show and about 450 in copper demmits (l44 demmits= l hist).
We counted out the money and the "viking" handed us the rope still trailing from around the Lady's neck, and disappeared with his friends back into the tavern.
Leeta walked beside Lady Camille while I brought up the rear. They turned the corner into a sort of alley that opened into a courtyard filled with barrels and leather goods. The smell from the tannery behind it was further ruining the appetite I had earlier. Once out of sight in the alley Leeta and the Lady both turned to me. I braced for criticism.
"Thank you Peter. I really didn't want to spend the rest of my days as a pack animal. I don't know how I would have managed on my own."
"You were fine Pe-tar." Leeta chimed in. Her eyes were shining with what sure looked like sincerity."
"How can you both say that?" Because of my showing off we just had to part with almost all the money we had."
"How else were we going to get Lady Camille away from that giant? He and his friends would never have just let us take her. Once you attracted that crowd they couldn't very well deny that she was ours. You allowed a stronger opponent to save face in front of his comrades by demanding a high price for his efforts. And, in fact we might never have seen the Lady again if it weren't for him.
"On my world we have a saying Peter 'One cannot dine on last seasons grass'. This matter is finished. What shall we do now. I, for one, am still hungry. "
"Ok, OK, I get the point let's forget my foolishness and get some breakfast."
They both nodded agreement, each using the gesture common to their cultures, Leeta nodding sharply to the right twice, and the Lady lifting her chin to show her eyes and the manipulating members beneath.
We entered the first eating establishment we came to.(Rather, Leeta and I did, we still thought it wise to maintain the illusion that Lady Camille was a mere animal even if it had backfired a bit on us just now.)
With the little money we had left we found that we could still get breakfast. While we waited for if to arrive I took what we had left and rejoined Lady Camille who was pretending to be tied up outside. This being a river town there were not a many of animals in the town proper. Still we managed to find a dealer in feeds and seeds. I showed him the little money I had and he showed me several types of grain and hay that we could exchange it for. The lady silently nodded to indicate the things we wanted and we were soon on our way back to the tavern.
While Leeta and I had sausages, a boiled vegetable similar to a potato, and large chunks of some whole grain bread the Lady feasted on half a bushel of something that looked like cracked corn and an armload of dried fodder. After breakfast we would do our bit to uphold a time honored tradition among those who are out of money. We would look for work. If John Carter could only see me now.
CHAPTER 12
“The Cornered Vanu" was a cut above the rest of the riverfront dives, but its customers weren't exactly the tearoom set. In the month we'd worked there each of us had grown quite fond of Urs dan Roh and his wife Modran. From the first they had recognized us as babes in the woods. Seeing that we needed help they had opened their lives to us. I don't know if Urs really needed workers that first day we had come around asking for work but he had told us that his kitchen girl had quit to have her baby and moved back with her parents, and that his swamper had floated off to look into a gemstone strike down river.
Even the Lady had found work hauling supplies for the tavern from various places around town or occasionally hauling luggage for one of those few guests who had actual “luggage” with them. We weren’t paid much but we did have room and board in a place where the three of us could be together.
Urs knew that we were headed west and had convinced us that even the low passes were closed this late in the season. It would be at least four months until the high trails were passable again. So. . . while Leeta learned the finer culinary arts of scraping and chopping vegetables with Modran and Soltan the jovial cook, I waited tables, cleaned out the place and helped with any other duties Urs gave me.
Winter was his busy season and it was fast approaching. The boatmen spent less time on the river as there were fewer loads to haul. Consequently they spent time ashore putting their boats in top shape for the coming season and spending money they had accumulated when work had been more plentiful. One event which kept the midnight oil burning in warehouses and boat yards all along the riverfront was the intense preparation going on for the Winter Festival and the races held in the slack part of the freight season.
Mon-ton was the northernmost port of size in the twin river system. Up river there were a few landings where boats occasionally collected cargos, but this was the last/first real town on the river. Below the town the river too was the "Monton", named both for the town and the rivers that spawned it.
Downstream were two rival ports, Omos and Seestra. Below them was the capital city of Llhaven. Crews from Omos , Sestra, and Monton were the chief competitors during each cycle’s Winterfest. Teams from these towns along with occasional entries from other communities competed each cycle (year) for honors in contests of boating skills, cargo handling, and other events derived from everyday activities of the boatmen. Bragging rights, and colorful banners for display in the winner's homeports were the only prizes, but the betting was intense and the honor of the home community was on the line. Most prestigious of the events was the race among the boats representing the major cities along the river. In rapidly approaching preliminary heats boats and crews would vie intensely for the honor of representing their cities in the final competition.
Local merchants and politicians often bet heavily on the event. They also financed boat construction and the crew training out of "loans" from their personal funds. Crews that won had all these "loans" forgiven and were showered with financial favors as well. Losers were most often expected to re-pay money spent on their unsuccessful attempts.
The great festival moved each year to a different city. This year Mon-ton was the host.
In less than half a season (about 50 days) every inn, and private quarter in town would be filled with spectators here to see the races. It would be a great boost to Urs' business. He was also a great fan of the local team and was delighted that this year he would get to see them row. The Inn would be closed before race time and not re-open until after the event. Closing was no great financial loss as literally “everyone” would be at the waterfront watching the races anyway.
His boat team was the "Questals" (a fast water bird that hunted by swooping low over the river and flicking a fish out in the wink of an eye). I was never much for spectator sports but it was easy to get caught up in the anticipation the townspeople so obviously felt. Local champions would be chosen in an elimination race just two (12 day) weeks before the main event. That left precious little time for the competing crews to prepare.
Mon-tan had claimed small honors in some of the individual competitions last year. A chef from here had won the alviso cooking contest. Soltan had been working on a new secret recipe of for his own entry. From time to time he would invite us to taste it. He would ladle up a steaming bowl from a large pot suspended from a swinging boom above the cook fire. Leeta and I each would prepare ourselves to consume yet one more sample. Its taste was indescribable. I have no idea how “alviso” was supposed to taste, but for me Soltan's concoctions were largely unpalatable. To avoid hurting his feelings I usually forced down a few bites and claimed that as a foreigner I had no taste for
the finer local dishes. It looked like a sort of heavily seasoned stew. I could see pieces of some unrecognizable meat and bits of chopped tubers and herbs. The main sensation one had while eating was that it was laden with hot pepper.
"Let's go Pe-tar" Urs called one evening just as we were closing down for the evening. "I have a surprise for you."
"Go where? We're practically the last place on the wharves to close tonight."
"You'll see". He said with the two-fingers-to-the temple gesture which I had come to understand as a sign of being in the know on some inside joke or information.
I stripped off my leather work apron, draped it over one of the wooden pegs at the back of the dining/drinking room, and pulled on my stocking cap. The cap had been a gift knitted/crocheted by Leeta under instructions from Modran. We picked our way out among the rough tables and benches and through the front door. Urs turned, bolted the door behind us, and locked it with a crude, but effective iron lock that must have weighed a good kilo.
Without another word he set off in great long strides through the dark cobbled streets and lanes he knew so well. The air was crisp and cold. Overhead I could spot a few familiar star patterns. Here and there the lights of some of the public houses were still burning but most had closed the doors to all but the sleeping quarters. We passed a hand full of pedestrians, a night watchman making his rounds, and a lady of the evening still looking for a last customer. In some regards this culture and those of old earth weren't that different. After a walk of 10 to 12 minutes we arrived at a large warehouse on the Mon side of town. A burly man at the door lifted a lantern to identify us as we approached. He nodded to Urs who responded "He's with me."
Inside were a dozen or more men working by lamplight. To one side of the main room a man in a blue tunic with carefully cut blond hair examining a sheaf of papers with an older man dressed in a leather vest and fur hat. They looked up momentarily, exchanged nods with Urs, then turned immediately back to their work. Occupying a central position in the warehouse was a flat-bottomed riverboat which had been drawn up on rollers through large double doors on the riverfront side of the building. From the elaborate paint job and the purple and rose pennant on a short staff at the stern it was obvious this was no ordinary river boat.
The Ways Between Worlds: Peter Cooper Page 10