by C S Marks
Gaelen looked levelly at him before turning her gaze to Sajid. “I will,” she said, “but only if I may bear my weapons beneath my garments. I will not go unarmed into such a place.”
Sajid nodded. “You should take your weapons in case of difficulty, but you will need to observe our customs, and stay quiet at all times. The moment you speak you will be known as a stranger, and not of these lands.” He looked over at Rogond. “Being silent does not appear to be one of her virtues,” he said.
Galador and Rogond both smiled. Sajid had a point. “She will do what is necessary, do not fear,” said Rogond.
Soon Gaelen and Sajid were on their way, and Gaelen’s abilities would be sorely tested. She was required by custom to follow Sajid, and to allow him to lead her mount, as women of Sajid’s tribe were not allowed to ride freely. “Remember, you must never walk before me, and you must remain at least five paces behind when we are in public,” Sajid admonished her. “And never, ever open your mouth to speak, at least not until I’m certain we will be safe. Do you understand?”
Gaelen gritted her teeth and nodded. This would not be easy for her. She mounted the little Kazhi pack-horse, who had been well trained to follow behind. He would suffer her to ride him after only a few moments of her touch and her voice—it was the Elvish way. Sajid rode Siva, who looked thoroughly confused at the sight of Gaelen trailing behind on the little brown pack horse. Gaelen and Nelwyn had named him Faladinn, meaning “hill pony.” Finan was most unhappy with this arrangement, and had to be tethered to prevent his following Gaelen, for he would ever remain with her. He shook his head and squealed in frustration as she was led away behind Sajid, twenty empty water-skins dangling from the pony’s harness.
Gaelen turned back toward the Company, concealed once again by her black shroud, and raised her right arm in farewell. Then she reached down and felt the comforting touch of the long knives tucked into her tall boots beneath the black silk. “Laugh if you will, Cuidag, only give me a reason to use these,” she muttered. It would be a long and difficult morning.
They returned with full water-skins as the sun rose high, having spent only enough time to make certain of their welcome. This, as it happened, was not certain at all, and Sajid had learned that the incident in the Sandstone had become known to the inhabitants already.
“Ill news flies fast on the desert winds. Many would still have you pay for your sins.”
“And what sins are those, I wonder,” said Nelwyn to Gaelen, for she would not speak to Sajid directly. “Perhaps he refers to the unpardonable sin of escaping with our lives.”
“No doubt he does. Yet not all of us were successful,” said Gaelen, whose sense of humor had evaporated long ago. “Elraen most obligingly died anyway, and thus would have been absolved in their eyes. I’m sure that would have brought her great comfort.”
She turned to Rogond. “We did bring back plenty of water, but I cannot vouch for Sajid’s trustworthiness, as I could not understand him. Of course, I was forbidden to speak and gain enlightenment for myself. He could have told them anything. My effort was largely wasted.”
“Not entirely, little flower,” said Sajid with a smile that was genuine, but mean-spirited. “I derived great enjoyment from your silence for those few hours. I expect they will be the last afforded me.”
Gaelen smiled back at him as she removed her black garb. She crossed her arms, reached down to her boots, and drew both of her bright blades, twirling them expertly. They glittered in the sun, singing ominously as they spun and flashed. “Sometimes,” she said, “words are not needed.”
The Company decided to make camp where they were, on the far outskirts of the oasis, in the shade of tall rocks. Fima could not venture into the settlement, for it was well known that a dwarf traveled with the fugitives from the Sandstone. Rogond, Galador, and Sajid would go back to buy more provisions and learn what they could of Hallagond while Fima, Gaelen, and Nelwyn remained in the encampment. Gaelen was not anxious to return to the oasis, forced to behave as a woman of the Ravani, forbidden to speak.
In truth, Sajid had spoken falsely. There were many women of the southlands who enjoyed most of the freedoms afforded men, but Sajid had delighted in inflicting as many restrictions as possible upon Gaelen, who, of course, knew no differently. So she had sat with eyes downcast, listening to Sajid ramble on and on in his strange tongue as he laughed and joked with the men of the oasis. A couple of times he had addressed her in a commanding tone, and naturally she did not respond, for she did not understand him. He would then mutter under his breath in the common-tongue, telling her to fetch him water, or to wait outside, or to see to the horses, and be quick about it! “And don’t forget, you must always bow before me whenever I address you, and wait until you are dismissed,” he had whispered through his sly smile.
Gaelen had complied for the most part, for she did not wish to disappoint Rogond by removing Sajid’s liver on the spot, no doubt earning the suspicion of the local inhabitants. There would be time for this activity later, she told herself. For now, let him enjoy the illusion that he held dominion over her.
“One thing I will not do, web-weaver, is allow you to leave my sight,” she had said. “Ask anything but that. My only purpose here is to ensure that you do not stray, and this I shall do. If you would have me see to the horses, you must go to them first yourself. I will not allow you so much as a breath outside my watchfulness.” She had bowed before him then, as would a submissive wife.
Fima looked forward to spending time not on the back of a horse, as well as relaxing, eating and drinking, and sharing stories with Gaelen and Nelwyn.
Sajid, Rogond, and Galador left just before the next sunrise, taking all the horses save Gryffa, Finan, and Réalta, who was still healing. Galador would ride Malvorn until his favored mount was sound again.
Eros had been unusually solicitous of Réalta since his return, allowing him to stand beside his hindquarters so that he could wave the flies away with his tail, since Réalta’s was nearly useless. He even stood back from the best fodder so that Réalta could eat of it first, to the amazement of Rogond. Normally, it was unwise to stand between Eros and a meal if one wanted to remain un-trampled.
Gaelen and Nelwyn had done what they could to heal Réalta, and he responded well to their experienced hands. Yet, as with Finan, this healing would take time. For now they would enjoy relaxing in the shade with Fima, who had expressed proper indignation at the manner in which Sajid had forced Gaelen to behave.
“Never mind, little Wood-elf. One day we will be rid of that weasel, and will all return home to where the soft rains fall upon our faces. With luck, Rogond’s brother will be with us. You will never need bow to anyone again.”
Gaelen and Nelwyn both turned away, and Fima realized that the mention of the soft rains made them both miss the Greatwood so much that they were overcome for a moment. He cursed his lack of sensitivity, and tried to cheer them at once. “Come, then, and let us play a game. Who enjoys guessing at riddles?”
Naturally, they all did. For the next hour, they attempted to confound each other with the most challenging riddles they could remember. Fima was quite good at this game, for he was very learned, and Gaelen and Nelwyn could not best him. “I can’t think of anything more,” said Gaelen. “It’s as though my memory has deserted me.”
“Well, you’ll have to think of something,” said Nelwyn. “It’s your turn.”
Gaelen thought for a moment, her eyebrows drawn toward each other in concentration.
“This loathsome creature is not as it seems,
It is the stuff of frightful dreams.
As slippery as an oily snake,
Casting sticky threads in its deadly wake.
With words of honey from a poisoned tongue,
It beguiles enemies and friends as one,
And when it believes it has earned their trust,
It lays them low with a venomous thrust.
You may think the answer has come unto
you,
But instead of eight legs, this one has but two.”
Rogond had promised to return before sundown, but that was many hours away. It would be a long day for those left behind. Gaelen held a feeling of foreboding that simply would not leave her, though she tried to dismiss it. She did not want to upset Nelwyn; after all, Sajid had been given plenty of opportunity to make mischief at the oasis already, should he have wished it. Gaelen did not understand his words, but she was very perceptive as to meaning and intent, and she had detected nothing dark in them. It seemed that Sajid had done exactly as he promised.
There was nothing for them to do now but rest in the shade of the stones, for they had left the yurut behind. Hari the Horse Provider had given them a silken drape that could be suspended with cords to form a sunshade; it was of a practical golden-sand color, and had proven very useful. They sat together beneath it, sharing a water-skin that had been filled with water from the Chupa. This water was clouded with mineral and held a strong taste, so Sajid had mixed a quantity of honey in it for flavoring.
As the faint sweetness filled her mouth and soothed her throat, Gaelen relaxed a little. A dark thought crept into her mind concerning the water, and she shook her head to banish it. After all, Sajid had drunk of it—she had seen him. She settled beside Nelwyn as Fima began a new riddle. They would spend several pleasant hours playing games and telling tales before the pain took them.
“Where is Sajid?” asked Galador, as he returned from seeing to the horses.
“I thought he had gone with you. I have been right here, enjoying the shade and the conversation.” Rogond possessed a great gift for languages, and the longer he remained in the Ravani, the more familiar he was becoming with the difficult sutherling tongue. He had spent enough time in sharp observation of the people, listening intently to their speech. He could probably get along well enough to survive, though he was still a long way from truly mastering it. He sat now in one of the better gathering-places of the Chupa oasis; a tidy, white dwelling where they served food and drink, but no liquor. It smelled wonderful, and the few patrons appeared to be clean and well-mannered.
He reassured Galador. “Sajid has no doubt gone to see to affairs of his own. I expect this establishment is too respectable for his liking. The oasis is not all that large, and he should be easy to find. In the meantime, relax and try some of this…I have never had the like of it.” He held forth a clay mug filled with a strong, dark liquid. Steam rose gently from it, carrying an enticingly rich aroma.
Galador inhaled the steam, and his face softened with pleasure. “It smells marvelous, but it’s hot! Who would drink hot things in the desert?”
“I would,” replied Rogond, “if they had the same effect as this. Try it!”
Galador raised the steaming mug to his lips and took a small sip of the dark fluid. For a moment his expression was difficult to read. “This is another one of those acquired tastes, isn’t it?”
“Keep drinking,” said Rogond. “You’ll warm up to it soon, trust me.”
Galador took Rogond’s point a short while later, as he had finished his first mug and started on the second. He was brighter and more energetic than he had been in days; all the weariness seemed to flow away, and he was replenished. “Small wonder you are so cheerful,” he said, looking appreciatively at Rogond. “What is this called?”
“The sutherlings call it ‘kaffa.’ It comes from very tall mountains far to the southeast of here, where they say it rains every day.” He called to the proprietor, a friendly man with dark hair and a dark moustache. “If it please you, El-morah, will you tell my friend the tale that you told me earlier?”
El-morah was only too happy to oblige, after refilling Galador’s mug and offering a fresh one to Rogond. He wore black robes with just a small bit of golden embroidery on the left breast, in the shape of a spreading fig tree, which was the emblem of his house. As with most merchants he was fluent in the common-tongue, and in a warm, gentle voice he told the story of how men came to drink of the kaffa.
“Kaffa is a divine gift, but because it was bitter no one would partake of it. So Aontar sent goats to eat of the fruits and leaves, and they began dancing happily. When the men saw this, they knew that the fruits were blessed, and they learned to roast them and brew them into drink, so that they might also dance.”
El-morah smiled at Rogond and Galador. “I can see that you now appreciate the dancing goats,” he said. “Do you travel with women-folk? If you do, then please accept this gift from my wife. Women find this irresistible…it will cheer them when nothing else can.”
He looked back over his shoulder to make certain that he was not heard by the small, neat woman who was bustling about preparing food and drink. Apparently, she was his wife. “Believe me, this has saved my life on more than one occasion,” he said under his breath, with a knowing look at Rogond. “One day it might save you as well. I will say no more.” He placed a small package on the counter and returned to his duties.
Galador placed the wax-wrapped package in the pocket of his robe. “That fellow is very intuitive,” he said to Rogond. “He must have met Gaelen already.”
Rogond smiled. “Or someone very like her,” he said, casting an eye toward the capable woman behind the counter. She was comely, with dark eyes and hair and a beautiful white smile, but her expression indicated that she would brook no foolishness. There was little question that she had an equal share in the governing of that household.
Rogond and Galador rose and bowed to El-morah before going in search of their guide, who, as Rogond had predicted, was not difficult to find. Sajid had gone straight to the seamiest tavern in the place, and was already in a drunken stupor. He would be of no help to them for a while.
“It’s only mid-morning,” said Galador in disgust.
“Apparently, in Sajid’s world it’s never too early,” said Rogond, prodding Sajid’s limp, senseless body with his toe.
The proprietor, a short, beefy man with a scar across his nose, bustled up to them, stating that Sajid had run up a considerable debt in his establishment over the past several years. He had been allowed to drink today only because he had assured the proprietor that he had friends who would pay.
“What will it take to absolve him of his debt?” said Rogond with a weary sigh. The dancing goats were fading from his mind already, to be replaced with the normal sinking feeling associated with Sajid.
The proprietor growled . “That man has not paid for his drink in a long while, and he always seems to disappear at inconvenient times. It will take five gold pieces to absolve him. He has sworn that you will pay, but in return, he has charged me with giving you some of the information you require. Does that make parting with your gold easier?”
“Five gold pieces! I suppose I should thank him, for I now have another excuse to wring his neck,” said Galador with a venomous look at Sajid. Rogond held up a hand to silence him.
“Never mind. Let’s just pay it and hear what this man has to say.” He drew forth the coins and counted them into the proprietor’s hand. Sometimes it was just wiser to give in.
The proprietor, named Haifa, was familiar with Hallagond, who had in fact been a frequent patron of this very establishment. Yet he had not been seen in this place for years. Rogond’s heart sank, for his hopes had risen that his brother might not be far away.
“You should speak with a man named Kamal. He has traveled here from the City of Fómor, and has seen Al-amand there. Kamal will be here, probably before long. In the meantime, why don’t you go to the market and replenish your supplies? They will be open for a few hours yet, though, naturally, they will close during the heat of mid-day. That will be the best time to return here and speak with Kamal. I warn you…he will want payment for the information. I hope this has been of help to you.”
Something in Haifa’s sly smile made Rogond uncomfortable. Galador, whose entire body had tensed from the minute the proprietor approached, shared the sentiment. With a last loo
k of disgust at their drunken guide, they left for the marketplace.
As soon as they had gone, Sajid roused himself. He was, in fact, quite sober. He turned to Haifa. “Do you see how easily they are beguiled? When they return, merely tell them that your patrons found me offensive, so you dragged me away to sleep it off somewhere. They will not doubt you, as they always find me offensive.”
Haifa laughed and nodded. “I will not find you offensive, Sajid, so long as you allow me to collect payment for liquor that you did not even drink,” he said. “Where will you go now?”
“Ask me no more questions, and you need not conceal the answers,” Sajid replied, leaving the establishment without another word. He stole quietly away, unobserved by anyone in the marketplace. Search for me all you like, you fools, he thought. You have seen the last of me…except in bad dreams!
When the markets closed for mid-day, Rogond and Galador returned to Haifa’s tavern. “We took Sajid to a place where he can sleep it off,” said Haifa. “He smelled rather strongly.” He ushered Rogond and Galador into a small antechamber, instructing them to wait there for Kamal.
Soon, a tall man with a greying black beard entered the room to sit before them. He was dark-skinned, but his eyes were an interesting shade of light green. He introduced himself as Kamal, lately of the city of Fómor.
“I understand you are seeking news concerning a man named Al-amand,” he said.
“We are,” replied Rogond. “What can you tell me of him, and what is the price of your aid?”
“First I will tell you what I can, and then you will decide whether my words have worth,” said Kamal. “Haifa tells me that you are trustworthy. Take some wine, Northman, for you may have need of it. This is not a happy tale.”
Kamal spoke for a long while. He told Rogond that his brother had gone to Fómor, had fallen in with pirates, and was now living as one of them. He had lost himself in drink, and in other things that were far worse. “You had better travel there at once if you want to aid your brother, for life among the Corsairs is short and violent. I heard rumors that his band of pirates were planning a raid on the city of Castalan in the autumn. If Hallagond refuses they will almost certainly kill him, if they haven’t already.”