Fire-heart (Tales of Alterra, the World that Is)

by C S Marks

  Gaelen approached her animal, a grey filly. But as she did so, the filly took a tentative step…she was lame. She stopped with one foreleg off the ground, and was reluctant to even place it down. Gaelen shook her head. “I am sorry, but this one is lame. I dare not ride her; it will only make her worse,” she said. Upon hearing those words, every man who had bet against Fima relaxed.

  Fima heard chuckles coming from behind him as he sat on the fence-rail. “Remember, my stout friend…all twenty must be ridden before sundown, or you will lose the wager. I surely hope that you will be able to cover your debt. Your friend will not ride the lame one.”

  “Excuse me for a moment,” said Fima, hopping down and approaching Gaelen and the filly. “Gaelen…please, may I speak with you? It’s…it’s very important.” He looked nervously at the ridge, where the sun was beginning to set.

  Gaelen ran her hands over the filly’s leg, trying to calm her so that she could be examined. The filly started back, and Gaelen glared at the dwarf. “Stay away from her. She is not ready…keep your distance.”

  Fima was literally dancing, shifting from one foot to the other. “Gaelen…you need to get on her back. Don’t ask me why, but if you care for me at all, get on that horse!”

  “She’s lame. I cannot ride her until I know why,” Gaelen replied simply, lifting the mare’s leg and examining her foot with interest.

  Fima looked into the grinning faces of the spectators. They were counting their money already. “Please, Gaelen. You said once that you could never repay me for the…ahhh…the eight gold pieces I gave for Finan. Now you can! Just get on that animal and ride it, for the love of heaven!”

  Gaelen looked at him, seeing the panic in his face. Then she turned back to the filly, and pried a stone from her foot with strong fingers. When she set the foot back down, the filly was still lame, but at least she would now bear weight upon it.

  “I don’t know what sort of mischief you have gotten into here, my good dwarf, but I do owe you a great debt, and for your sake, I will ride.”

  The sun was still visible, but barely, when Gaelen climbed aboard the grey filly, turning, stopping, even trotting a little. A great cheer went up from the observers that had not wagered against the Elves, and even from a few that had. They had not seen such a feat before, and most likely never would again.

  Gaelen and Nelwyn dismounted and led the last two horses to their holding pen. Gaelen returned to stand before Hari. “That filly has a stone bruise; she will need a good soaking for many days. We will return tomorrow to collect our fee, if it please you.”

  Hari did not know what to say. “You are entitled to 200 pieces of silver, my friends. But, will you remain in my employ? Together we could turn such profit that we could all retire wealthy in a few years. Will you not stay?”

  Gaelen and Nelwyn smiled. Hari was quite likeable, and it was no surprise that he wanted them to stay and aid him. “We cannot, O Provider of Horses. Yet we will be in the Sandstone awhile, and until we leave, we are at your service. We shall come tomorrow for our payment.”

  In answer, Hari handed them a heavy bag of coins. “In the southlands we learn that tomorrow is uncertain. Here is your promised payment…in case you wish to make merry tonight. You will have earned it!” He smiled broadly at them. “I believe folk would come from far and wide, and pay a great deal just to watch you two break horses. If only I had thought to charge them for the use of my fence-rails today!”

  Nelwyn looked thoughtful as she held the heavy bag of coins in her hand. “Will these coins absolve your horse-breaker from his debt?” she asked.

  “Ah! You mean my former horse-breaker, the one who cannot seem to stay away from the gambling-tables? In truth, he owes more…fifty gold pieces that will take months to earn, and the interest mounts. I doubt he will ever repay it.” Hari shook his head. “He has finally learned his lesson, but too late. I would pay it for him, but I cannot afford such a sum and stay in business. It is a shame.”

  Gaelen looked sidelong at Fima, who was even now collecting the profit of his wagering on their abilities. “We know of one who might be able to aid him,” she said. “Allow us to speak with our friend for a moment.”

  “Fima, when you are quite finished collecting from your associates, will you please come and parley with us?” said Nelwyn in an unassuming tone. Fima had suffered considerable anxiety and doubt of his future health in acquiring this gold, and he would not relish parting with it. Finally he nodded to the last disappointed victim, shoving coins into his already bulging pockets. He approached Gaelen and Nelwyn with seventy-four gold pieces, two beautiful jeweled daggers, and the papers declaring him to be the owner of two dromadin. He beamed as he showed them to the Elves. “See, my friends, what your skill has earned!”

  Gaelen held up the heavy bag of silver. “No, Fima. This is what our skills have earned. This other is ill-gotten, and you must not keep it, for it will only encourage you to risk again, and you may not be so fortunate. Better you should remember your panic when it seemed that you would lose the wager.” She quirked a sly smile at him. “Did you think I did not know? You were in fear for your very life! That is what you should remember.”

  Fima held a blank expression for a moment, as this revelation made its full impact. “So…you toyed with my life just to teach me a lesson? You…you insufferable Elf!” He began to growl and bluster. “Fine. I go to all the trouble, plus risk my very neck just to provide wealth for our needs, and you think it necessary to increase my anxiety! Well, I shall need to think harder before I part with my gold on your behalf the next time. Don’t count on me to get either of you out of your difficulties!” Fima meant only about half of what he was saying, but he was annoyed at having been frightened nearly to death.

  Nelwyn shook her head. “Small wonder that gambling is such a disease, when you can gain so much in such a short while without earning it! And then, you turn on your friend, regretting the most decent thing you have ever done for her. Do you see what this does to people? Why not learn from your near-disaster, as Gaelen suggests? You will be happier.”

  “I very much doubt it,” Fima replied, though he had lost some of his bluster.

  “Do you know how our friend can now be truly made happy?” said Gaelen.

  “I do,” said Nelwyn. “We must take fifty of your gold pieces, Fima. Please hand them over, so that we may absolve another poor soul lost in the mire of debt, one who has now learned his lesson. We may only hope that you will learn the same.”

  “I thought you were seeking to make me happy,” said Fima. “Taking fifty of my gold pieces will not make me happy. That will, in fact, sadden me considerably!” He drew back, his hands over his pockets.

  “Ah, you may not think so now, but think of the good feeling you will get each time you remember the man that you saved from terrible trial, while at the same time relieving yourself of ill-gotten wealth that will bring naught but trouble,” replied Nelwyn with a rather impish smile.

  “Come on, Fima, hand it over,” said Gaelen. “You know that Nelwyn is right.”

  “I know of no such thing,” grumbled Fima, reaching into his pockets. “I have enjoyed the fruits of wagering many times in my life, and only rarely have they brought trouble. Generally they bring food, and drink, and entertainment, and fine things. Yet I know that I would not have gained this wealth were it not for the two of you, so if you feel compelled to pick my pockets I must comply. Here!” He counted fifty heavy gold pieces, the majority of his winnings, into a bag and handed it reluctantly to Nelwyn. She practically had to pry his fingers from it. He was still upset with Gaelen and would not look at her. “I despise you,” was all he would say.

  Gaelen was not dismayed, for she knew this would not last. Fima was a beloved friend and always would be. He just did not like being outsmarted.

  The Elves now approached Hari and handed the gold to him. “For the horse-breaker,” said Nelwyn, bowing. “May he soon break horses once again.”

  “
And may he have truly learned his lesson, and not inconvenience our new friend Hari by getting himself into further difficulty,” said Gaelen.

  Hari bowed. “And how shall I explain his good fortune to him? I should probably not say that his debt was paid with money gained from wagering, after all.”

  “Say only that the gold was given by those who wish for him to be able to earn an honest living,” said Gaelen.

  Hari bowed solemnly before the Elves. There were no words to reply, and none were needed.

  Gaelen and Nelwyn bowed in return and then made their way back toward the now-quiet marketplace with Fima in tow. The dwarf, though still smarting from the loss of his wealth, admired the Elves for their consideration of Hari and the horse-breaker. Besides, he still had twenty-four bright gold pieces, two dromadin, and the jeweled daggers. He would offer these to Gaelen and Nelwyn, and he had already decided that when the markets opened in the morning, he would go to a honey-vendor and purchase the finest, largest container he could find.

  Although most of the men who had witnessed the Elves’ display of skill were filled with admiration, there were those now mired in darker thoughts. These were of the Ballali, and they of all the Ravani-folk were the least tolerant of strangers and strange ways. Grim and forbidding, they accepted nothing outside their own narrow system of beliefs, which they defended with a fervor bordering on fanaticism. This had worsened since the Plague; the survivors had been taught that they had only been spared because they carried the “pure faith,” and any who strayed would be stricken down.

  They were not liked by any of the other Ravani-folk, therefore they kept to themselves, ever on the watch for unbelievers and those they felt would bring evil among them. They now had seen two females, uncovered, besting men in a profession reserved only for men—there were no female horse-breakers—and there had been wagering, probably at their direction. The Ballali considered gambling to be evil, and naturally no woman was ever allowed to expose herself or parade before men in such a manner. These newcomers were the embodiment of demons in their opinion. If everyone in the crowd had been of such mind, all three would have been stoned to death.

  Now the men made their way to the tent of their High Holy Man, the spiritual leader known as Asaad. He was very old and could no longer walk on his feet, but was borne on a litter on the rare occasion that he ventured outside his high sanctuary. He lived as did all the Ballali, spending much time in prayer, foregoing worldly pleasures, handing out judgment. The Plague had increased his power and influence considerably. He led his people in prayer thrice daily, his deep, rich voice speaking words both comforting and controlling. His followers both loved and dreaded him.

  They bowed before him, prostrating themselves on the stony floor, and begged leave to tell what they had seen. Asaad extended his right hand, bidding them sit and give their news. When they had finished, Asaad’s black eyes were stony in his ancient face. What sort of evil has come among us? One of the men heard the white-bearded one referring to one of the women as “insufferable Elf.” What can it mean? Asaad had already been told of the bright-eyed stranger speaking so brazenly in the marketplace, dressed in black but with her face uncovered! Now the men before him declared that it was likely these were of the same folk, for their eyes had seemed unnaturally bright.

  “Bright with hell’s fire,” said Asaad. “Obviously, they bewildered those animals with dark powers. Yet we should wait for a time to be certain, as they will have gained allies in the settlement. We cannot allow them to remain long, for they will infect the people with their unseemly ways.”

  “There are many who dislike them, for they lost much in wagering,” said one of the followers.

  “As they should have! Only evil folk gain from wagering. It is further proof that these newcomers are of evil,” said Asaad with an all-knowing smile.

  One of the men nodded. That made perfect sense to him.

  “But, if they are of evil, why did they return their winnings in defense of the horse-breaker?” asked another.

  “Because they wanted to encourage him to remain evil, and not receive his just punishment for gambling,” replied Asaad. “The poor man is now lost, for this ill-gotten gold will allow him to wager again, to the further detriment of his soul. These devils know what they are doing.” He looked at his followers with hooded eyes, daring them to disagree.

  Of course, no one did. When one was in the presence of Asaad, all things became clear. He was surely the wisest man in all the world, and the one who would save his people from evil in this life, that they might enjoy divine pleasures in the next. They would do whatever he asked.

  Asaad dismissed them to sit alone in the cool, candle-lit darkness. “Avinashi,” he muttered to himself. “I am nearly certain of it.” He had not really thought them to exist, except in tales, but these strangers fit the description. If they were Avinashi there was no knowing their age or their origins, but Asaad knew they would bring nothing but trouble to his controlled, orderly world. Avinashi would not die naturally, but they could be killed, oh, most certainly! Yet these had made allies, and rumor held that they were merely passing through these lands. So he would wait for a time, relying on his minions for news. If these Avinashi brought strife and dissention among his folk, the Balalli would eliminate the evil from their midst. Asaad had many righteous assassins at his command...the unwitting fools would never see them coming.

  Chapter 8: THE FESTIVAL

  “I would say our fortunes are improving,” said Fima, lifting his ale tankard against Rogond’s. “Just compare them to those of yesterday, when we had almost no money, few friends, and our Wood-elves going about in black shrouds. We now have enough money to serve our needs for a fair while, provided we are frugal, and we have our Gaelen and Nelwyn back. They have many new admirers, and even a friend or two. Nearly everyone was dreadfully impressed with the skill of our comely horse-breakers.”

  “And why not?” put in Galador, raising a glass of dark, sweet wine. “Even I am impressed, though Nelwyn never fails to impress me in all things.” So saying, he gave Nelwyn an affectionate embrace with his left arm.

  “Are you all quite finished congratulating yourselves?” said a voice from behind them. “I would warn you that not everyone witnessing the afternoon’s horse-breaking incident was impressed in the way you would desire. There were undoubtedly some who were most unfavorably impressed.” Sajid emerged from the shadows, a grim smile on his narrow face.

  “I have heard many things already concerning this matter,” he said. “There are those in the Settlement who have not taken kindly to your Wood-elves. They should never have gone against my advice and removed their proper clothing. They went about shamelessly, uncovered, in front of sutherling men. Then they engaged in horse-breaking, which is most unseemly for a woman—unheard of, in fact. Some folk have accused them of using dark magic to subdue the animals. Beware! Next they will think you are all in league with evil forces. If that happens, they will kill you before you can even react.”

  “We are not of the Ravani,” said Gaelen. “I can hide my ears, but I cannot pretend to be what I am not. More folk were offended by my trying to pass as a sutherling woman. Why can I not simply mingle among these people as myself? I have seen such great variety here, and not all women are shrouded in black! The eastern women dress as the men, and they are accepted without question. What is so offensive about a simple Sylvan hunter-scout?”

  Sajid’s eyes narrowed. “I have neither the time nor the patience to explain the intricacies of our beliefs and ways to one so obviously single-minded, Gaelen Taldin. Just be warned, all of you. There are folk here who are very, very dangerous. The man known as Asaad, for example—he who leads the Ballali people—you risk grave peril in offending him. Supposedly he is a very spiritual man, spending much of his time in thoughtful meditation, but the truth is that he cares only for controlling the minds and hearts of his followers. He won’t take kindly to your unseemly antics at all.

  “It
seems they would control or exterminate anything that threatens them,” said Galador. “Otherwise, why would they suppress their women-folk as they do? Only so that they need not fear losing control of them, or being controlled by them…at least, that is the way it appears to an outsider.”

  “Again, I will not defend our ways to you,” Sajid replied. “You are a guest in our house now, Tall One. These are sutherling lands; even the Anori-folk know that they must take care not to offend one such as Asaad. The peace between our peoples is uneasy at best. Please, my friends, take care that you do not tweak the tail of the tiger while you are inside his cage. If you would not fail, our ways must prevail.”

  “I thought I asked you not to do that,” Gaelen muttered as she stiffened beside Rogond. The jubilant mood had quite gone from the Company, as they were all wondering about Sajid’s warning. “You Ravani-folk confound me…I would have thought that, with so few spared by the Plague, you would place less importance on your differences, and be less easily offended by them. I would expect you to value your women all the more, for without them, you will not increase. One thing is certain—I will leave this place before I put on that horrid black shroud again.”

  Sajid knew that Gaelen would never understand his view of the world. Many of the desert folk cherished their women. Their laws were in place to protect them from harm and temptation, to keep them from straying into peril. Yet Gaelen had seen only frightened, submissive creatures who were afraid to lift their eyes to men. It was no good trying to convince her. He shrugged his shoulders and glanced sidelong at her. “Just be careful, little flower. Hide your light from Asaad and his folk, as they will not be at all shy about extinguishing it forever. Do you take my meaning?”

  “I do,” Gaelen replied, “Though they may find the task more difficult than that of beating their wives or their daughters. This flower has thorns!” She drew one of her throwing-knives and cast it into the floor a hair’s breadth from Sajid’s crossed legs before he could draw his next breath. He jumped, startled and fearful, then threw an angry look at Rogond.